#I acknowledge I may be the only person excited by this idea

[fioreofthemarch]

I can’t shake this terrible feeling that the villain of Tears of the Kingdom is not this guy:

It’s THIS guy:

[signedreality]

Hello hello! May I request a fic that's been a brain worm of mine for awhile?

So it's reader and Alastor's first time sharing a bed. Alastor puts pillows to block reader from invading his space. But in the morning, Alastor and reader wake up, only to realize that he went to reader's side to cuddle– apparently he's clingy in his sleep. Fluff/embarassment ensues

Enjoy your trip to Colorado!

-(can i be 🌾 anon?)

𐙚       CLINGY

        alastor x reader

⟢ synopsis ; the excitement you had when you and alastor were going to a share a bed for the first time was immediately shattered once you both were separated by a pillow—for you were informed he wanted his personal space—but once you woke up, you would soon learn that when it comes to alastor, there is no such thing as space.

⟢ warnings : romance, petnames, sharing a bed with alastor, and the destruction of an innocent pillow.

⟢ missive ; we're back on the air, and it's lovely to be back! i'll add you to my anon list, and i do hope you enjoy this broadcast!

now airing ; rises the moon - liana flores

when you and alastor started dating, you were immediately acknowledged about how much he despised touch.

the only time he'd allow you to touch him was if he was holding your hand, or you were holding his arm during outings—other than that, you never initiated physical touch.

so, it was understandable when alastor put a pillow in between you both when you first started to sleep together.

"just in case you decide to move around while resting," alastor spoke as he situated the pillow, "this will be here so you don't end up hitting me or whatnot..."

despite his words deeming that it was because he didn't wish to be hit, you knew that it was truly due to the fact he didn't want to be touched. and once again, you understood.

you both went to bed with the pillow in between you, and you fell asleep with the idea that it would still be there when you woke up.

but the morning only proved you wrong.

the dull lighting of alastor's bayou was what you woke up to as your vision tried to focus from its morning blur, and you were almost perplexed once you felt a heavy feeling on your chest. maybe the hotel's cat had snuck in?

while it was doubtful, you wouldn't be shocked if the cat had managed to slip its way in when you and alastor were entering the room to get ready for bed. the cat was a slick little thing when it came to entering rooms.

yet, you were shocked when your eyes flickered down—the sight you viewed being one you didn't expect.

instead of seeing the cat you had assumed was resting on you—the fur resting against your cheeks only feeding the thought—you were introduced to the figure of alastor resting beside you.

his arm was wrapped around you while his lanky legs had tangled with yours, and his body was pressed against yours with no sign of discomfort. did he move the pillow?

you looked around as much as you could without moving, for you didn't want to wake alastor, and you ended up succeeding as your eyes landed on the pillow that had originally been used as a divider.

it was torn on the ground with its fluff sprawled around the ground—bits of it being everywhere as it poured through the claw marks.

ones that were clearly made by alastor.

you could only let out a quiet chuckle as you brought your attention back to him, and you examined the calmed expression on his face.

his head rested in the crook of your neck while his ears slightly twitched with each beat of your perished heart—the fluff on them grazing your skin as you partially smiled.

you slowly moved your hand to the back of his head as your fingers ran through his hair, and it wasn't long before his eyes peeked open.

the crimson in his gaze appeared soft—the usual bloodlust being replaced by the desire to just be held. it was a look you had barely seen, yet it was one you cherished anytime you viewed it.

"good morning..." you spoke in a whisper to ensure you didn't startle him, and it appeared to be working as he nuzzled his head into your neck more. "good morning..."

a few moments passed with him peering up at you with lidded eyes, and they closed for a second until they opened as wide as saucers.

alastor pulled away from you as you raised an eyebrow at him, and he sat up next to you while a slight scowl was on his face.

"didn't i inform you that i wished to have my space?" despite his clear rage, you were aware it wasn't pointed at you—why would it be? his question was one he already knew the answer to, and he knew that you weren't at fault.

but instead, he was the one who went against his own wishes.

"al, i'm still on my side of the bed, no?" you spoke as you gestured to where you were laying, and a gentle tint of red flushed on his face while you softly snickered. "and you're the one who tossed the pillow away..."

"i did no such thing!" alastor spoke in a defensive tone until you gestured to the pillow that still remained on the ground, and the demon's smile only strained at the sight.

"this isn't amusing, cher—" he mumbled while gripping his temples, to which you just raised a hand to place it on his shoulder with a slight bit of hesitence. when he still appeared eased, you spoke up. "in my opinion, it is."

your taunting only made him grumble before you sat up, and you scooted closer to him as you rested your head on his shoulder.

alastor partially tensed at your action until you tilted your head so you could kiss his cheek, and his eyes peered into yours.

while his gape held irritation, yours feigned innocence that he couldn't help but relax at.

you felt his arm wrap around your waist before he forced you back down onto the mattress, and you let out a wheezed laugh as he rested on top of you.

your arms wrapped around his back as alastor kept his head in the crook of his neck, and once you started to scratch his back, a sigh of contentment escaped his lips.

"i believe charlie can manage on her own without us for a bit, can't she?" he teased in a low tone before lifting his head, and his forehead rested against yours while you smiled at him. "she's the princess of hell—i'm sure she'll be fine..."

"lovely to hear, my dear..." his lips pressed against yours as soon as his words were finished, and you hummed into the kiss while your hands moved to the back of his head.

your fingers gently rubbed his scalp, and his ears flattened against his head—a smile sprawling onto your face at the action. it always amused you each time his ears flattened due to your actions.

and it amused you even more when you heard a soft bleat escape his lips as you deepened the kiss.

you pulled back with a taunting grin while alastor only lightly scowled at you in humiliation, and you shifted underneath him so you could place a kiss on his temple.

"that was adorable..."

"if what occurred in this room ever gets out, i will—"

you cut him off by moving your hand to scratch under his chin, and another bleat left his throat while you snickered. "you'll what, al?"

you were left without an answer as alastor forced his face into the crook of your neck, and you let out a sigh of contentment before closing your eyes.

⤷ word count ; 1,155

©SIGNEDREALITY

☁️        reblogs + hearts + comments are appreciated !

listeners : @simpingoncarmensandiego @ari-hatake24 @heartfeltcherie

[mindfulstudyquest]

❥﹒♡﹒☕﹒ 𝗯𝗲 𝘀𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗿 ( 𝗮𝗰𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗯���𝘁 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 !! )

𝟭. improve your writing skills ( ✒️ )

i feel that not everyone has the perception of how important it is to know how to write. you don't have to be a poet, nor the new emily brontë, but fluid, conscious, rich writing makes the difference. really. you could write a page without saying anything at all, but if that damn page is written good and smoothly, then you can be sure that you will get extra points. take the time to improve your writing skills, the best advice i have for doing so is reading. read as much as you can. read novels (non-fiction in this case doesn't help because the content is preferred rather than the form), read contemporary authors – you don't necessarily have to read sophocles' tragedies, but read quality stuff. expand your vocabulary, your knowledge of syntax, learn to use punctuation! and then write, tell stories, write love letters, write reviews of films, books, cultural festivals, open a blog on tumblr and write to practice, reread what you write ad nauseam, until it is perfect, until the form of your essay is pulitzer prize worthy.

bonus some of my favourite authors (tell me in the comments about yours!): ian mcewan, banana yoshimoto, haruki murakami, george orwell, josé saramago, albert camus, khaled hosseini, hanya yanagihara

𝟮. develop critical thinking ( 💭 )

if you have always studied passively by absorbing information and vomiting it onto a test sheet then you have wasted your time. taking on information is not enough, you need to know how to rework it and develop your own idea about it. especially in the arts and literature one may disagree with certain information provided by a textbook. developing critical thinking is not easy, especially due to the school system that teaches us to standardize thinking. always consult all available sources on a given topic, compare them, analyze contradictions. it might be difficult and tiring – our brain spends more energy processing two conflicting pieces of information than processing two pieces of information that agree – but it will be worth it. by practicing critical thinking and improving your argumentation skills, you will not only be able to improve in your studies, becoming able to present complex topics and make interdisciplinary connections, but also in daily life, you will become much less influenced and manipulated by external information.

𝟯. find yourself an interest ( 🌷 )

it could be anything, but find an interest that excites you and you enjoy and do research about it. watch videos, documentaries, read articles. it doesn't have to be school-related, it must be an external topic that you are passionate about and that allows you to rediscover the joy of studying and learning every time school seems to suffocate it. sometimes i'm not in the mood to study for exams, so i dedicate myself to my personal research and finally find my spark, my seek for knowledge. for example, my interest is true crime, it has always fascinated me since i was little, but yours could be wild animals, makeup, comics, ships, planes, ocean flora, literally anything. there is no constraint.

𝟰. analyze your mistakes and recognize your wrongs ( 🫒 )

there is no shame in making mistakes. everyone makes mistakes, we are human, but the real sin is getting bogged down in mistakes, refusing to acknowledge them, and continuing to make them again and again. we should be continually growing, continually discovering ourselves, both intellectually and emotionally. how many of you were the "gifted kid" when you were little and then grew up into burned out high school / uni students desperately seeking academic validation? there comes a time when talent isn't enough, you have to put in the effort, and this doesn't make you less intelligent or gifted, in fact, quite the opposite. dedicating time and attention to your personal and intellectual growth also means having to ruminate on your mistakes. it's scary, but it's the most effective way if you really want to improve. take a notebook and at the end of the day reflect on the highlights and the wrongs, what you could have done better, where you would like to push forward tomorrow, what you achieved today. did you make a mistake? first ask yourself why and then look for a way to solve the problem, make every bad moment a lesson, a brick on which to build the version of you you wanto to become tomorrow.

𝟱. don't be afraid of doing researches ( 🧃 )

the amount of fake news and misinformation online is appalling. opening any app like tiktok or instagram we are inundated with information that is often (not always, but not so rarely) inaccurate. don't be afraid to conduct your own research, if you have time to mindlessly scroll through tiktok you will also have five minutes to read an article regarding that information provided. don't know the meaning of a word? look it up before using it. not sure about a piece of information? check it before using it in your argumentation. in the age of immediate access to data we have no excuse to be superficial.

𝟲. master communication ( ♟️ )

mastering communication is essential in both personal and professional realms. it's the cornerstone of building meaningful relationships, whether it's conveying ideas effectively in academia or fostering connections in the workplace. developing strong communication skills not only enhances your ability to articulate thoughts but also empowers you to listen actively, empathize with others, and resolve conflicts constructively. ultimately, honing these skills cultivates confidence, credibility, and success in all aspects of life.

𝟳. push yourself out of your comfort zone ( 🧸 )

build your confidence. confidence is uncomfortable. don't be afraid of it. you are young, this is the right time to experiment, take risks, discover who you really are. this is the best time for you to do those things that you would otherwise never do, you don't want to regret later in life that you didn't accept that scholarship, that trip abroad, that job opportunity, because you didn't feel comfortable enough. do things that take you out of your comfort zone until everything becomes your comfort zone. go on solo dates, be a social butterfly, tell the girl at the bookstore you love her t-shirt, go to the theater alone, eat at a restaurant alone, take that trip. if it goes badly, you'll only have one funny story to tell.

𝟴. stay informed about the news (but not too much!) ( 🌍 )

this might be controversial, but: stay informed about the news, just don't overdo it. personally, i am an easily influenced person and i realized that being constantly exposed to the bad things happening in the world had drained me and made me terribly depressed. don't get me wrong, you need to be informed about what's happening in the world and in your country, just being constantly surrounded by horrible news repeated ad nauseam on TV programs is of no use. be aware.

[winterspellsfrozenkit]

So, I LOVE Epic: This Musical and I'm excited for some of the songs in the Circe Saga, but one of TWO songs that I absolutely DESPISE in this musical is coming out and I'm so stressed out about it.

"There Are Other Ways" and "I'm Not Sorry For Loving You" make me so frustrated because it looks like they fall into downplaying the coercion and abuse Odysseus went through because the abusers are women. AND I HATE THAT.

"There Are Other Ways" is a song between a person who has power to force a person into doing what they want (Circe) and their victim (Odysseus), who can only comply. And from what I've read it has the line "There's no puppet here."

It's really clever writing because if you know the story, you know Odysseus is in a precarious situation and he was told by Hermes that when she asked to sleep with him, he needed to do it. Here's three different translations of the moment Hermes tells him "Don't you tell her no" with the warning from Hermes bolded:

"'And I will tell thee all the baneful wiles of Circe. She will mix thee a potion, and cast drugs into the food; but even so she shall not be able to bewitch thee, for the potent herb that I shall give thee will not suffer it. And I will tell thee all. When Circe shall smite thee with her long wand, then do thou draw thy sharp sword from beside thy thigh, and rush upon Circe, as though thou wouldst slay her. And she will be seized with fear, and will bid thee lie with her. Then do not thou thereafter refuse the couch of the goddess, that she may set free thy comrades, and give entertainment to thee. But bid her swear a great oath by the blessed gods, that she will not plot against thee any fresh mischief to thy hurt, lest when she has thee stripped she may render thee a weakling and unmanned.’

“ ‘And I will tell you of all the wicked witchcraft that Circe will try to practice upon you. She will mix a potion for you to drink, and she will drug the meal with which she makes it, but she will not be able to charm you, for the virtue of the herb that I shall give you will prevent her spells from working. I will tell you all about it. When Circe strikes you with her wand, draw your sword and spring upon her as though you were going to kill her. She will then be frightened, and will desire you to go to bed with her; on this you must not directly refuse her, for you want her to set your companions free, and to take good care also of yourself, but you must make her swear solemnly by all the blessed gods that she will plot no further mischief against you, or else when she has got you naked she will unman you and make you fit for nothing.’

"I will tell you all Circe’s fatal wiles. She will mix a drink for you, blending drugs with the food, but even so she will fail to enchant you: the powerful herb I will give you will prevent it. Let me tell you the rest. When Circe strikes you with her length of wand, draw your sharp sword and rush at her, as if you intend to kill her. She will be seized with fear. Then she’ll invite you to her bed, and don’t refuse the goddess’ favours, if you want her to free your men, and care for you too. But make her swear a solemn oath by the blessed gods that she won’t try to harm you with her mischief, lest when you are naked she robs you of courage and manhood.”’

He had no choice in the matter. It was a "you will have to sacrifice yourself OR you will never get your men back and you won't be safe if you don't do it" moment. While Circe's not telling this directly to Odysseus, it's still COERCION because he knows if he says "No, I want to be faithful to my wife" Circe will harm him. But a lot of people don't know that and are going to continue to perpetuate the idea that Odysseus cheated on his wife. 😒 And they're going to use that line of "There's no puppets here" as "proof" that Odysseus cheated.

If you can sympathize with Ovid's later adaptation of Medusa as a victim of Poseidon, but refuse to acknowledge Odysseus was as much a victim of Circe AND Calypso and claim he's cheating... Please, ask yourself: why is that?

[cici-sunshine]

I just had (in my opinion) a fucking amazing idea for a story after looking at this post (which is amazing by the way)

Okay just imagine this… Sukuna x Reader but with the AU in which sukuna is yuijs older brother.

So now there are two different “scenarios”

1. Sukuna and Yuji have a relatively small age gap. You’re one of Yujis closest friends and hang out at his pretty often. Yuji is just such a sunshine, just a positive person in general. His older brother how ever not so much. He’s just a troublemaker through and through. He got his face pierced, smokes and even got some tattoos behind his parent’s back (also may I add he’s 100% a biker or drives an amazing black car). Sukuna and Yuji have a pretty typical sibling relationship. They both care for each other but don’t get along that well (typical around that age I guess). You first meet Sukuna when you have a sleepover at Yujis house. He invited you (and Megumi and Nobara) because his parents were gone for the weekend. At around 2 am you still lay awake on the mattress in the living room, the others are already fast asleep. Suddenly you hear the jiggling of keys in front of the door. At first you’re scared, cause who the hell is at the door at this hour. Then the door opens and Sunkuna in all his glory is standing just a few feet away from you…

The second scenario is 100% inspired by THIS

2. This time Sukuna and Yuji have a big age gap alright. So you’re in Sukunas class. You don’t necessarily get along that well but you’re not on bad terms either. You both just don’t acknowledge each others presence more than necessary I guess. Everyone is living in the dorms except for Sukuna. At first everyone wondered why and some even came up with the weirdest theories as to why. The school year is almost at its end so that means it’s time for a school trip. Everyone is excited except for Sukuna. That wasn’t necessarily weird considering that he never showed his emotions much in general. What made you suspicious is the fact that he stayed behind after class to talk to the teacher (Gojo duh) even tho he’s usually the first one out the door at the end of class. Being the curious person you are, you stay behind too and eavesdrop on their conversations. Sukuna says something about not being able to go to the school trip and the teacher knowing why. To which the teacher only responds with words of understanding and support. That only confuses you even more. You follow Sukuna home (Funking stalker tf) because you’re determined to find out what he’s hiding. You follow him thinking he’ll just go straight home or to some shady place of sorts. But to your surprise he heads to a kindergarten!? You wait outside just to see him walk out of there with a much smaller copy of him. Only problem is that this small copy is looking directly at you. You quickly try to walk away and act like you’re just there by accident, but it’s too late. The little guy is pointing directly at you and before you can really react you can hear Sukuna say “what the hell are you doing here?!”…

Okay so that was that lol. Im so sorry for my grammar English is not my first language.

Do these “scenarios” have fanfic or oneshot potential or am I literally the only one that’s a sucker for big bro sukuna

I’d love to write a whole fic about the second one because I have literally so many ideas but I’m not sure if it would be good or if literally anyone would enjoy it haha.

I’m always open for feedback, suggestions and responses 🩵

[also just to clarify in advance I’m sure this isn’t that much of a original idea but I’d still love to write something like that (maybe lol)]

~Rules~

[creative-crybaby]

Fly on the Wall

PAIRING: yan!timeskip!Sakusa Kiyoomi x fem!reader

GENRE: smut | dark content (18+)

Minors DNI

TAGS + WARNINGS: yandere themes, noncon, stalking, somnophilia, semi-public masturbation (m), nipple play, fingering (with leather gloves), dacryphilia, cum eating, creampie, size kink, breaking and entering, panty stealing, basically Sakusa is a perv

Let me know if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 8.7k

SUMMARY: The new Black Jackal’s manager catches Sakusa’s eye. Unfortunately, whatever distance, physical or otherwise, is between you two, is too far for his liking. All characters are 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Not meant to be a Christmas gift, but my timing does wonders, I guess :/

© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify

The Black Jackals getting a manager didn’t excite him the way it did his teammates. The idea itself didn’t bring him dread, of course, but the knowledge that certain players may get distracted–or worse: rowdier–brought more stress to him than he’d appreciate. 

Bokuto and Hinata were already babbling on to each other about what you might be like, reminiscing their high school days when they both had two managers on their respective teams. Atsumu joined in, whining that Inarizaki wasn’t as lucky to have a girl manager, let alone two attractive ones. He also bet that you’d be cute—Sakusa could only roll his eyes at the exchange.

You carried yourself with a grace often unfound in volleyball when meeting the team, offering a polite smile as you introduced yourself. Even when bombarded with questions from the boisterous ones (you know the ones), you didn’t falter, even assuring Meian that you didn’t mind the energy: “It’s nice to know I’ll be supporting a passionate team.”

Pretty, Sakusa thinks. You didn’t blow him away, but it was enough for him to acknowledge upon first laying eyes on you. Even he found himself momentarily frozen when you two made brief eye contact. 

Regardless, you’re not here for a modelling contract; you’re here to help the team grow to its full potential. The wing spiker may not be praying for your downfall, but he certainly isn’t going to celebrate your arrival too soon, either. 

Anyone can refill water bottles and hand out clean towels to sweaty giants. The same goes for taking notes on their progress, especially since you should know how volleyball works. From what Sakusa has observed, you do more than well in that department, too, always ready to correct someone’s form or have a report prepared for Meian in no time. You’re organized, punctual; it helps that you also sprinkle in some encouraging words when necessary. (Certain members are more than happy to gain that praise, which means more headaches on the ravenette’s end.)

It doesn’t take long for you to get him to accept you into the team—in his own way. He doesn’t avoid you like the plague, per se; he merely never saw any reason to put in as much effort to get to know you the way someone like Bokuto or Atsumu would. He was just glad to have one more person to give him some proper feedback. 

That distance Sakusa created is seemingly one-sided. There’s no special occasion, either: it was after a practice that partook a few days after a game against the Tachibana Red Falcons. A close match where the Black Jackals managed to pull through, though that wasn’t precisely what consumed the wing spiker’s thoughts at the time. You handed him a neatly folded towel during the athletes’ break, and he nods his thanks. You stay before him, and he peers up at you curiously after wiping his face. Stretching your hand to him, you carry a mini hand sanitizer pack. Nothing special: it’s a standard bottle in a dark red and attachable case. 

“Noticed you weren’t a fan of the gifts from some of your fans and would look grossed out when a kid would touch you,” you explain, offering a small smile. “Hope you don’t already have one of these. This was the only normal-looking one I could find. Wasn’t sure how you’d feel about having a giraffe case dangling from your bag.”

You offer a sheepish laugh that Sakusa would refuse to admit is something he’d want to hear again. Not wanting to leave you hanging any longer than he already has, he takes your gift, eventually muttering his thanks. 

It’s like a boy clinging onto that one compliment he got a few years back because it’s all he received. A rational voice in his head dismisses your observation as something someone on the team probably mentioned to you—maybe Atsumu made a joke about him being a germaphobe, and you took it seriously. 

Still, that’s not a possibility the wing spiker wants to entertain. Not as he goes on with the rest of practice, not when he’s in the changeroom, not when he’s attaching that case to his gym bag, not when he gets home, and certainly not when he goes to bed that night. A small gesture, one probably wouldn’t overthink, lingers in his thoughts until Occasion #2 appears. 

Coming back from an away game is one of the few opportunities the volleyball players get to recharge. After packing everything into the bus, each member sits in their unassigned-assigned seat. Or, at least, most of them would. Some chose to sit wherever it was convenient for them: they wanted to carry on their conversation with one of their teammates or maybe get some shut-eye. Sakusa was the latter, opting for a window seat far away from his boisterous colleagues as possible. Ready to close his eyes, he only got a few seconds of relaxation before he sensed some shifting next to him. With furrowed brows, he opens his eyes, ready to tell Atsumu off (let’s be honest, it’s always Atsumu), only to find you making yourself comfortable in the spot next to his instead. 

You turn to him somewhat sheepishly. “Hope you don’t mind. I wanted to get some rest, and you’re pretty quiet, so I figured having you as my seating buddy was my best shot.”

You don’t say anything afterwards, waiting for him to tell you to leave him alone. To his surprise (and yours, he’s sure), the wing spiker mumbles a stoic “Go ahead,” his eyes trailing towards the window as he readjusts his mask. Even with his gaze no longer on you, he could hear the smile in your voice as you thank him. 

For the next several hours, Sakusa remained awake, thinking about everything and nothing all at once as he’d glance over to your sleeping form every few minutes. Even people like Bokuto and Hinata lost enough energy to fall asleep, but the ravenette didn’t notice. If anything, his entire world dissolved into nothingness as soon as your frame unconsciously leaned on his shoulder. His whole body froze, but surprisingly, not out of disgust. Awkward, perhaps, but he didn’t feel the need to wake you up, let alone push you away. 

His senses heightened. With you so much closer, his eyes scanned every detail your face had to offer, every reaction you had in your sleep, from stirring after hitting a speedbump to sighing whenever Saksua dared to take a breath too deep. Speaking of breathing, even with yours being so shallow, he can hear the steady rhythm loud and clear, despite Bokuto’s snoring somewhere in the distance. Your scent attacked his nose, even with the mask shielding most of his face, and he can at least admit to himself that it was refreshing to smell something that wasn’t a bunch of sweaty athletes. It’s just your head on his shoulder, but the ravenette felt you burning your mark into his skin, one he didn’t ever want to wash off. Every sense except for taste—

A speed bump. The last thought retreated as fast as it invaded. The remaining hour and a half to return home flew by with his guilt as a distraction. Even when Atsumu woke up and teased the wing spiker for trying to get close to you, Sakusa didn’t feel the need to reply. He merely looked down at your still-sleeping form for several seconds more before eventually trying to wake you up. He’d rather he didn’t, but something about others seeing you in such a vulnerable state irked him in a way he can only describe as filthy. No amount of water and hand soap can scrub away that dirt, but as soon as your eyes opened and met his before anyone else’s, that itch got scratched. He didn’t register your profuse apologies until a couple of other teammates decided to join in on the teasing, and suddenly Sakusa found his voice. 

“It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine. And it still isn’t. Maybe you forgot about it or saw that moment as a funny story to share over drinks with friends, but it’s different for the wing spiker. He knows it shouldn’t be, yet here he is, replaying every minor interaction between the two of you. There was a reason for him keeping his distance from you when you first started: you both stick to your tasks during practice and games, only interacting when progress and strategy are the focus. Otherwise, the athlete is back in whatever vacant corner he can find, shrinking his almost 6’’4 frame as much as he can in hopes that he can avoid possible interactions. (And if that means he gets to watch you laugh at something Atsumu said or go over strategy with Meian, then those times in his hiding spot have come with new benefits.)

But he’s not in a corner right now: he’s at Onigiri Miya with his team and EJP Raijin, eyes boring into your frame as his cousin says something he doesn’t quite catch. 

The ravenette hums. “What was that?”

“Your new manager’s pretty cute and all,” Komori starts, not too loudly for others to hear, “but if you keep staring at her, you’re going to look like some creep.” Sakusa’s head snaps to the libero, who sheepishly smiles as he scratches the back of his neck. “I mean, I get that you were never all that good with girls, but even you should know this stuff by now.”

The wing spiker scoffs at his cousin’s joke, opting to take a bite out of his onigiri instead of replying. You’re listening to whatever story the blonde Miya twin has to share, laughing whenever the younger one butts in with commentary to embarrass the former. Now you watch in amusement as the two lookalikes bicker, and it makes Sakusa realize something: besides the few moments he recalls oh-so fondly, you don’t interact with each other much outside of volleyball. 

He glides his thumb across the nori on his food in irritation. The moments shared between you rarely involve anything outside of the sport. For someone as observant as him, the ravenette is almost ashamed he let his very few one-on-one memories of you two distract him from such an obvious (and somewhat embarrassing) fact. 

You’ve probably spent more time with a handful of his other teammates. Sakusa recalls Bokuto and Hinata inviting you to a movie marathon at the latter’s place on your day off, though through all that excitement exchanged between them, all he could do was mutter under his breath about them wasting your time. It probably doesn’t matter whether or not you accepted their offer; they still approached you. 

The same goes for whatever Atsumu says to you that makes you two snicker under your breaths. Inside jokes, Sakusa is sure of it, though it doesn’t make him scoff any less. If anything, his mood grew sour with every interaction you had that wasn’t with him. Another fact he wasn’t aware of until the blonde setter asked him if the stick up his ass was bigger than it used to be. (The wing spiker’s response to the harmless joke needn’t be shared.)

“Just talk to her.” Komori’s voice brings Sakusa back to Onigiri Miya. Staring; again. Lovely. The ravenette faces his cheerful cousin once more, who offers a chuckle. “I’ll even play wingman if you want.”

The quieter of the two finishes his onigiri before getting up from his seat. The libero watches as his relative puts his MSBY jersey on before heading for the exit. “I’m good, thank you.”

The ravenette risks a glance your way once he makes it to the door. You don’t meet his gaze, still occupied with the twins. No surprise there, but that doesn’t stop the disappointment plunging into his chest as he exits the shop.

That one-sided has seemingly returned since then, though the roles are reversed. Even with the few moments exchanged between you two, Sakusa struggles to pinpoint when he started to care for your attention in the several months you’ve been part of the team. The days when he felt indifferent involved less overthinking and even lesser restless nights; now, he can’t stop nitpicking at whatever detail catches his eye. You styled your hair differently one day; you’re snacking on cheesecake-flavoured Kitkat because it’s your new favourite snack. These notes follow up with nothing on his end except an extra bullet point in his brain’s buzzing list. 

It’s a winter evening when he adds his first crucial fact: your home address. An abyss swallows the sky at what seems to be only half past five. Not a usual time for practice, though nothing that disrupted Sakusa’s schedule. He’s making his way to his car when he sees you standing aside, eyes glued to your phone. A rare sight, though not an unwelcomed one. 

You’re frowning, the wing spiker notices. He’s approaching you, he notices too little too late. You notice him. 

“Oh, Sakusa!” you smile, pocketing your device. “Good work today.” The ravenette doesn’t need his mask to hide his contentment at your praise, though the pride that swells inside him grows challenging to swallow. “Off home to relax?”

His tongue rests between his teeth as he nods, and you hug your coat tighter to your body. His brain screams to carry on a conversation, no matter how small or meaningless, but his eyes seem to do enough as they rake through the parking lot. He’s looking for your car, he realizes, but has no clue as to what it looks like. 

“Had to bus here,” you explain sheepishly. Sakusa watches you from the corner of his eye, internally sighing in relief at your (alleged) mind-reading powers. “My car needs fixing, and with practice taking place later on in the day, finding a bus worked better.” Your gaze trails to the streets only a few meters away, exhaustion making them droop. “Guess my supposed ride is being held back, huh?”

“Let me take you home.” 

Your head snaps in the wing spiker’s direction, whose eyes slightly widen in shock at his proposition. Now he decides to talk. He digs his nails into the strap of his gym bag, jaw clenching as he tries to appear calm as he awaits your response.

Your brows crease ever so slightly. “I wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble.”

Your voice shrinks at your concern. Sakusa imagines you shrinking under his gaze as well. “You never cause me any trouble.”

Not how he would’ve liked to word it, but it’s too late to take it back. You beam at him, offering your thanks and letting him know you owe him as you step closer to his tall frame. He doesn’t flinch away, instead facing the parking lot once more as he chews on his bottom lip under his mask.

The car ride holds silence throughout the fifteen-to-twenty minutes on his end, with you giving the ravenette directions and discussing the team’s progress. He only offers curt nods and soft hums, not that he minds this time; your sunny tone and presence in such a closed space were more than enough for him. Besides, his brain is occupied with carrying your guidance as you get closer to your destination. Because he’s the driver, and you ought to return home safely. It’s been a long day for both of you: you’re exhausted, and you don’t hide this fact as you slump in the passenger seat and sometimes yawn. 

And when you finally tell Sakusa to pull up into your driveway, he can’t help but scan your home with his eyes, wondering which windows expose which room. He sees one with lavender curtains from the interior, and he’s willing to bet that’s your bedroom. 

You thank him, and the thought evaporates. He’s tongue-tied once more; he nods, unlocking the passenger door. Offering one more smile, you exit the car, and the wing spiker’s eyes bore into your frame as you walk up your porch and enter your home. 

He’s backing out of the driveway when he begins to wonder if there is something different he could have done. The small talk was calming, but he found that he wanted more. 

The drive back consists of Sakusa glancing over at where you sat every chance he got. He swallows harshly, fingers tapping impatiently against the steering wheel at a red light. Even with practice done a while ago, he feels hot. His clothes hug him uncomfortably, and it isn’t until his brain entertains the idea of peering down does he understand why. 

He recognizes this street. The ravenette pulls over to a secluded area, quick to unbuckle his seatbelt before throwing his mask off. His chest heaves as he slowly looks down once more as if the first time was just a trick of the lights. 

He’s hard. Being alone with you for less than half an hour is enough to make him fucking hard.

He’s also alone. For a second, he recalls keeping a pack of tissues in the glove compartment. 

He’s also in his car. His home is not too far from yours, he noticed as you gave him directions. 

You were also in his car. The passenger seat pulls Sakusa’s gaze towards it. He’s leaning into where you sat not long ago, and if he focuses hard enough, he can catch a whiff of your perfume.

His cock stirs in his slacks, and the ravenette climbs over the gear shift before his brain can reason with his body. 

The passenger’s seat is still a bit warm, he notices upon making himself comfortable in his new spot. The wing spiker shakily exhales as he unzips his pants with great haste, shimmying them down to his thighs. His pace doesn’t slow down when he gets to his briefs, either, opting to tuck the waistband between his balls and dick’s base to free his shaft of its confinements. Only then does he pause, breathing still trembling as he tries to calm himself. 

There’s not much time. An empty parking lot when he got there, but it won’t stay that way forever. Sakusa spits into his palm, needing some makeshift lube to start slowly stroking himself. The relief has his eyes fluttering closed and lips parting with a sigh. It isn’t long until he feels some precum sliding down from his slit, and he spreads the stickiness to help with his movements. He takes a deep breath through his nose and again catches your scent. 

What if it was your hand pumping his cock instead? It should be. You’d be smiling as you do so, peering up at the wing spiker through your lashes as you ask him how he likes it. Always there to help during practice; how is this any different? You want what’s best for the team, for him. Anything for him—

Sakusa’s choking on a groan as he paints his hand and the glove compartment a creamy white. He doesn’t open his eyes until his high finally descends him back to earth, where he realizes what he’s done. 

He groans, in both exhaustion and disgust from the mess in his car and thoughts. He was a teenager when he lasted this long, though the quantity of his release takes him by surprise. Has he truly been pent up for too long? Did you do this?

Sakusa’s quick to take out that tissue pack. 

You thank him for the ride home once more the next time you see each other at practice. Other than that, the wing spiker continues to keep his distance. Mainly due to the shame that follows remembering what he’s done after dropping you off, but the one time you two shared eye contact for more than a few seconds when you handed him a towel during a break brought another feeling into the mix: excitement. What for, Sakusa has yet to find out. Or maybe he’s trying to avoid that explanation. Like any minute, you’ll tell him, you know, eyelids heavy as the emphasis tells him more than enough of what you’re talking about. The thought makes his lower stomach churn in an agonizing blender. Then, you’ll pull him into the storage closet, where you’ll—

Say his name. Well, no. Not you. Someone else is saying it. Again and again. 

The ravenette blinks back into the real world, masking his fantasy with a blank slate for a face as he turns to look at whoever could need something from him.

“Oh, so yer awake?” Atsumu. Of course. “Still got some energy in me, and I need t’kill a bit of time. Wanna set fer ya fer a bit.”

The grin the faux blonde offers isn’t reciprocated as Sakusa notices front the corner of his eye some of his teammates entering the changeroom. A part of him wants nothing more than to follow them, the clothes clinging to his body from all the sweat making him internally recoil as he wishes for a shower. He also knows this is an opportunity to improve without you there: as much as he enjoys your presence, you become a distraction as a drawback. 

The wing spiker sighs. “Only for a little bit.”

Atsumu beams at his teammate’s (albeit reluctant) acceptance, already jogging to fetch a ball to begin.

Sakusa finds his focus coming back with every spike he lands on the other side of the court, slowly but surely returning to normal. Another way to release some steam; he tries not to cringe at the memory of the other tactic from the night before. 

The attempt fails as soon as you enter the gym with Meian by your side. The two of you are speaking to each other—about what, the ravenette isn’t sure. He doesn’t get a chance to listen in, anyway.

“Nice kill!” Atsumu chirps, gaining the attention of not just his teammate, but his captain and manager as well. With a final nod, you and Meian go your separate ways; him towards the changeroom and you, the other two athletes. 

“Don’t push yourselves too much, guys,” you chuckle. “You already worked hard during practice. Take the time to relax as well.”

Sakusa can barely give you a nod while the setter grins at you. 

“I’m gonna get cleaned up before we head out, ‘kay?” The wing spiker’s head snaps towards his teammate with a raised brow. Neither you nor the faux-blonde acknowledge his confusion. 

You smile. “Take your time. I’ll just put the net and volleyballs away while you’re at it.”

Atsumu nods before slapping Sakusa’s back and jogging to the changeroom. The ravenette can only look down at a stray ball and pick it up. He remembers enjoying the silence between him and whoever he was with. 

“I’ll help,” he mutters, walking away before he can witness your reaction. It’s ridiculous, like some middle school crush: wanting nothing more than to be close to you, but freezing up as soon as it happens. And he can’t avoid you forever–he doesn’t want to–because you eventually meet him at the ball cart, dropping the armful of volleyballs into it. “What was that with Miya earlier?”

His voice finds itself whenever he’d rather it didn’t. He’s curious, sure, but he didn’t need his tone to give away his distaste. He can only hope you dismiss it as Sakusa being Sakusa and nothing more. 

With the small smile you give him, the ravenette is certain he’s safe. “Oh, ‘Tsumu invited me to check out this restaurant that recently opened with him after practice. Heard they made some of my favourites there, and I wanted to try them ASAP.”

Sakusa pretends that you being on a first-name basis with the setter doesn’t bother him. He doesn’t respond to your explanation and remains silent as he brings the net down with your help. The next time he acknowledges you is before he rushes to the changeroom to shower, ignoring Atsumu as they cross paths.

He’s at the wrong house. 

You’d think one knew the directions to the place they called home, yes? At the very least, have an idea of the area. Yet, it’s only until your driveway makes it to his peripheral vision does the ravenette realize his mistake. And he’s just in time to watch you walk up your porch. 

After another restless night, the wing spiker needed to clear his head. His home brought him no distractions, already too tidy to clean, and his mind continuously drifted away when watching recordings of volleyball matches. With a day to himself, he might as well go around town—there’s a mall not too far from his place, he recalls. It was a better attempt at keeping him occupied, though he couldn’t help it when he passed a perfume shop and wondered what scent was your favourite. Or the neighbouring lingerie store, putting whatever scandalous pieces of lace out on display, giving the athlete’s spiralling mind suggestions on what you would look best in. (White, he concluded before processing.) 

He didn’t want much, nor did he need much. More or less satisfied with his purchases (and dissatisfied with failing distractions), he’s in his car, ready to head back home. 

But he’s not home. Or rather, his house. The latter is a mere building; the former, a sense of comfort. And while there’s guilt bubbling in his chest, witnessing you carry on with your everyday life has him relaxing in his seat.

You were on an errand run, Sakusa observes. Groceries, from what he sees. What would you be making for dinner tonight? He’s too far away to catch what exactly is in your bags. The weather’s fallen to a frigid slumber—stew, perhaps? Or maybe you’ll make some umeboshi—those appeared to be your favourite whenever the team stopped by at Onigiri Miya. He and his teammates have had the opportunity to try some of your cooking firsthand; the ravenette is positive whatever you make will be just as delicious.

Then he remembers yesterday’s interaction, and his grip on the steering wheel tightens. Where did you two go? And when did Atsumu get so comfortable with you to take you out? You seemed content and—

And getting angry during this opportunity won’t do him any good. Surprised, Sakusa manages to calm down a little, opting to distract himself with other scenarios.

What could you two eat together? What would you serve him? He lets his thoughts waltz. The two of you share a meal after a long practice, or maybe you cook together on your day off. He’s seen a few romance movies in his life; he can imagine hugging you from behind as you prepared the food, him nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck as you both talked about whatever was on your mind. The conversation would continue as the two of you ate at the dinner table, his hand itching to find yours across from him. 

And for dessert, he’d have you sitting on the kitchen counter with your legs wide open as he ravaged what’s in between them, your hands clawing at his dark curls as his greed controls his tongue. Or, maybe you’re feeling extra generous and decide to help him relax after a tiring practice, lowering to your knees to take every inch of his—

You’re struggling to open your front door. Too many bags in your hands—the wing spiker has half a mind to get out of the car and help you. As crazy as you drive him, he still has some sense to remind him that whatever excuse he has to be in your neighbourhood won’t be convincing, even from him. And with the evergrowing tightness in his pants, he has another problem he can’t hide. Worse, he doesn’t feel as bad as he used to anymore.

You finally manage to get inside, and the athlete starts the engine to find a secluded area once again.

Sakusa has to refrain from spiking the ball at the faux-blonde’s face in the following practice. A match among teammates, and noticing the setter’s little pep in his step upon entering the gym that morning had the ravenette glaring hard. A part of him was relieved being on Atsumu’s opposing team, doubting he could work alongside him for the day. 

For now, the wing spiker aims his spikes at the older Miya twin. Anyone could view the action as part of his strategy; aiming for the setter to prevent them from setting is an old trick in the book, but still in the book. 

“Damn it, Omi!” Atsumu exclaims in frustration after not properly receiving Sakusa’s spike. “Quit pickin’ on me! Ma arms are gonna fall off!”

A twinge of satisfaction plucks at the ravenette’s chest from the outcry, though he masks it with a huff before walking back to his position. His eyes automatically make their way to your form on a bench, keeping track of the points while scribbling some notes whenever possible. You don’t catch his gaze, seemingly occupied with whatever’s on your clipboard. The lack of attention makes Sakusa frown, as he had hoped you’d see him on his little winning streak. 

It doesn’t stop him. If anything, it adds fuel to the fire, the flicker of pride from before blooming into something dangerous. 

His plan doesn’t change: Atsumu will remain his target until he decides otherwise. The next time he’s given a chance to spike, his eyes make the mistake of gluing themselves to his victim. Barnes quickly steps in front of the faux-blonde’s spot, flinching from the impact but still blocking the ball perfectly. 

It’s just one point, one that he can easily take back. Still, Sakusa can’t help but aim his glare at the setter on the other side of the net, something that doesn’t go unnoticed. A hand lands on the wing spiker’s shoulder, snapping him out of his spiralling daze. 

“Take a seat, Sakusa.” Meian’s expression appears relaxed, though there’s a rough edge to his tone telling him it’s not a suggestion.

The bench you’re sitting on is opposite his team’s side of the court. Had that not been the case, the ravenette would try to take the opportunity to sit with you, even if words wouldn’t be exchanged. Instead, he settles onto a bench too far from you for his liking. Even if he were to try and take a peek at you, players from the other team block you from his vision, what with their constant moving. 

He’s observing their movements; anyone can assume that. Sakusa can no longer remember the time he’d do something like that unless he was watching videos of matches at home. If he’s not keeping the ball in the air on his side of the court, then he’s scavenging for a chance to even be reminded of your existence: you handing the athletes water and towels, the captain calling your name to gain your attention. Anything will do. So no matter the frustration that comes with the package, he’ll find a way to catch you. 

It isn’t until he watches you rise from the bench does Sakusa realize that practice is done for the day. He didn’t notice his teammates walking away from the court and giving him a clearer view of your frame; he was glad he could see you at all. His posture straightens as he watches you approach Atsumu, and his hands ball into fists when you rest your hand on the faux-blonde’s arm. Whatever you two may be discussing, the ravenette can only assume it has to do with his teammate being on the receiving end of his pent-up aggression. 

Your conversation ends short and sweet, with you walking towards the storage closet. Sakusa’s only half-listening to his captain when he asks if everything is okay with him. Meian is offered an unenthusiastic response of “Everything is fine” before the younger athlete stalks away.

You’re struggling to roll out the ball cart from its spot when the wing spiker enters the storage closet. He doesn’t hesitate to approach you from behind and grip the handle about an inch away from your hold. You gasp, jolting back slightly before turning your head to face the brooding ravenette. 

“You startled me, Sakusa,” you sigh, clutching your chest. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Always so eager to please, aren’t you? The wing spiker has to refrain from smirking at the thought. 

Still, he ignores your question. “The wheels on this cart have been acting up lately.” With newfound confidence, he places his free hand on your shoulder to gently pull you out of the way for him to yank the cart. It jerks out of its place with a loud screech, and you wince. “You just need to give it a tug. Until it’s fixed, anyway.”

Sakusa looks down at the cart upon realizing this is probably the most words he’s spoken to you without having you carry the conversation. 

You grip the handle after a few seconds of silence. Your voice, suddenly meek, shakes as you thank him. He’s blocking your way; nothing you need to point out to him, but your silence says plenty. His feet stay planted on the ground, and your loss of confidence makes his cock stir in his pants. 

“You were pretty tough out there earlier,” you point out. The wing spiker knows you purposefully left out who he was giving a hard time. He also knows, based on your concerned tone, that you’re asking him for an explanation. 

You aren’t offered a response. Sakusa only takes his time turning his head to peer at you, the darkness of the storage closet and the way his black curls frame his stoic face giving him an intimidating aura. But what has you subconsciously shrinking into your corner are the onyx caskets for irises boring into your frame, beckoning you to crawl into the empty pools of demise. 

“I have to be if I want to win,” is his response before finally leaving you be, exiting the changeroom with the same intensity you witnessed mere seconds ago.

He’s back: closer. 

Parking his car nearby doesn’t cut it for him anymore. Sakusa doesn’t think it ever did. With the amount of patience lost for every practice with his team, the initial distance was just a formality. 

Now, his car hides nearby as he approaches your home, giving a quick yet thorough peek over his shoulder to make sure he’s in the clear.

It took him the third visit to learn where you hid your spare key, having seen you take it out from under the cushion of a little bench on your porch. And luckily for him, it hasn’t left its spot. 

Even with his morals flying out the window, the wing spiker neatly places his coat, scarf and boots aside after removing them, then ponders over his leather gloves until ultimately deciding to keep them on. He eyes the spare slippers by the entrance before concluding they won’t be necessary (for this visit, anyway).

Based on the house’s layout, it shouldn’t take long for Sakusa to find your bedroom. But it’s not going anywhere, and neither are you. Why not get to know you via your home?

It’s a small house: one story and cozy. The ravenette wonders how you afforded it, even with your salary. With how minimal the style appears, he can only assume most of your income went into the building itself. Would it be too much for him to buy you things for the interior? As a gift, perhaps when the occasion calls for it. 

Then again, is he really in any position to ask himself about doing too much? He almost chuckles at the thought. 

A quick yet thorough tour of your home gives him a more detailed layout, though he’d love to stay longer had he had the time. Or better yet, your company. As satisfied as he was to find your living room and kitchen tidy–and by his standards no less–he’s not done getting to know you. 

People don’t really need an exploration of the bathroom. It’s as clean as any other room, though it’s a cast-aside note when his eyes land on your laundry basket. Half full, too. Squatting closer to the dirty pile, a subtle yet musky scent hits his nose. Sakusa almost groans, cock stirring in his slacks; for such a clean freak, he’s never been more excited.

His eyes scan the basket’s contents, eventually landing on flimsy lace. Part of him wishes he wasn’t sporting gloves for the occasion, but he doesn’t let that stop him as he picks up the article of clothing. Underwear, of course it is, and a flattering magenta nonetheless. You wear this to practice? Or are there other times you put it on? Do you have a matching bra? The wing spiker can’t find anything in the basket, though he’s sure–no, he knows–you’d wear it like it was made for you. 

Are you wearing something similar right now?

The ravenette stands from his position, pocketing the lacy undergarment before exiting the bathroom. Consider it a welcoming gift. 

Again, it doesn’t take long for him to find your room. Being in such an intimate location is a different experience compared to looking in as an outsider. Everything is you: the way you organized your shelves and vanity, the colour palette—your scent is more prominent here. Sakusa doesn’t catch his eyes fluttering shut until he distinctly hears shifting. 

To his right, you lay on your mattress, your sheets messily hanging off parts of your body. You’re barely a silhouette in his eyes; the moonlight stalking past the crack between your curtains is the only thing helping the ravenette navigate your room. Parts of the glow highlight a bit of your face, though a shimmer from the light’s reflection teases his peripheral vision. 

You have a bookcase headboard, and on it lays a necklace in its case. Nothing fancy; a golden heart hanging off a thin chain. It’s more the note next to its box that catches the ravenette’s eye:

Thought this would look good on you ;) Hope you like it!

— Tsumu (your favourite setter <3)

If it weren’t for the fact that you’d notice, Sakusa would crumble that note and follow up with the faux-blonde’s neck. When did you get this? He surely would’ve noticed if you received it during practice. 

There’s a good chance the setter gave it to you before or afterwards. The wing spiker’s aware that the two of you spent time together outside of training, though for it to happen enough times that Atsumu found it appropriate to give you a gift as intimate as a heart-shaped necklace has the ravenette glaring at the piece of jewellery. (As open as his teammate may be, Sakusa doubts he’d buy something like that for someone after a single meet-up.)

He hears a sigh: yours. Your body shifts in its spot again, opting to lay on your back. The wing spiker freezes for the slowest seconds his alarmed brain can count, only to relax once you stay in your new spot.

They say an average of eight spiders crawl into your mouth yearly while you sleep. A myth, of course, but maybe that’s what we tell ourselves to ease the paranoia. Maybe, that’s what he is, Sakusa thinks; a spider. Soundless, observant—he’s certainly made himself at home. 

Maybe not, he reconsiders. Most people would carefully trap the eight-legged creature before bringing it outside. Or kill it; no mercy necessary. You have yet to do either. 

Then again, you aren’t like most people. Not in his eyes, anyway. No, his eyes entertain themselves with your every move, and no matter how deep those holes in the side of your head are, you don’t catch his stare. Whatever he may be, he’s always the perfect distance to observe you.

Sakusa’s brain buzzes mindlessly as his hands draw closer to your form, long fingers pinching the hem of your pyjama shirt before lifting the material. No bra: not a surprising observation, what with your nipples poking at the fabric from the cold. Even with how dark it is, the ravenette salivates from the sight, his cock stirring in his pants. He’s grateful for the lack of witnesses, though it’s still embarrassing to be as affected as he is. You’re not even fully nude. Yet.

He waits for a reaction. Other than you moving in your sleep, the wing spiker receives nothing. He exhales through his nose, never thinking that gaining the knowledge about you being a heavy sleeper early on would be an advantage for him. His fingers twitch before slowly landing on your stomach. Again, no reaction; he then lays his palms to join the digits. With a deep and shaky breath, the ravenette glides his hands up your torso until they reach your breasts. 

They feel perfect in his grasp, even with the thick layer of the leather gloves creating that barrier. Your face scrunches when he gives your mounds a light squeeze, though you remain asleep. As deep of a sleeper as you may be, one wrong move could ruin everything. Sakusa gulps, dragging his middle finger to flick at your nipple. A shaky breath from you is enough for him to shift into a more comfortable position on your bed before he continues his ministrations more confidently.��

He’s careful, he assures; eyes flickering from your chest to your face, reading your expressions to discover what you like and making sure you don’t wake up. All the while, the athlete tries to ignore the tightness of his pants, although watching you squirm beneath him because of his touch makes that a challenge. 

“Hnngh….”

It was barely audible, but enough to make the athlete stop everything. You’re still asleep, of course—he’s almost impressed, a bit jealous, even. Countless nights of insomnia on his side because of his fantasies playing on a loop, but yours give you a good night’s rest.

Regardless, the wing spiker gears to earn another reaction like that. Dipping his toes further into the water, he gets a little rougher, tweaking the sensitive buds between his covered fingers. Your back arches in his hold; more than enough confirmation for him. 

Shifting his position once more, Sakusa wraps his lips around one of your nipples, dragging his tongue against it while groping the other breast. You whimper when he begins sucking: a shallow sound, but it travels down to his crotch. He already has to deal with the embarrassment of finishing early because of you; if he cums in his pants without any stimulation, you’ll surely be the death of him.

He can’t rely on you being a deep sleeper forever: the wing spiker must work quickly. Pulling away from your chest, Sakusa brings his attention to the lower half of your body. His hands glide down to your hips, hooking his index fingers past the elastic waistband. He wonders whether he should take his time removing the article of clothing or pull them down in one motion. You help him make a quick decision when your leg accidentally brushes against his hard-on. And while he refrains from letting out a groan, his hands make fast work of harshly tugging your pants to your knees. 

Silence: not a sound from you, not a breath from him. Your thighs clench momentarily out of reflex once the cool air hits the exposed skin. Not fast enough—Sakusa managed to catch a peek at your drooling cunt. And it isn’t until you finally relax again does he exhale with a light shiver from the sight. 

Now, with a clear view, the athlete reaches for his opportunity by swiping some of your essence and bringing that same finger to your clit. Your hips buck into his touch as he rubs slow but tight circles on the pearl, making his brows furrow in concentration and chest swell with pride. It isn’t long until he adds to his pace and slides a finger from his other hand into your sopping hole. Your thighs clench on impulse, a mewl leaving your throat as the air remains stuck in his. His movements are forced to a halt due to your hold, and it takes several seconds for you to settle. Do you enjoy the sturdy material of leather rubbing against your insides? Maybe you’re unaware of the answer, but God, wouldn’t the ravenette love to know.

Dipping his toes in the water is long out of the discussion; if anything, he’s in too deep, the water rising every second he proceeds. He might as well follow the rest of him down, no? Take that final gulp of air before dipping his head in and letting that frozen abyss swallow him.

Sakusa experimentally wiggles his finger inside you and, after gaining no reaction, slides in another. With how wet you already were, it doesn’t take much effort on his part. You gasp, but your eyes stay closed. Even with his morality slipping away each day he sees you, the wing spiker still finds himself surprised (and grateful) that you can sleep through his actions. He wonders how far he can go. 

The longer and deeper he pumps his digits inside you, the more reactions he earns from you. The squelching noises between your legs also become louder, especially with the leather material of his gloves. He’s no longer worried, just curious about what sounds and expressions he can pull out of you. 

A particular response tells him he’s found your sweet spot. With a drawn-out yet breathless wail, you lift your hips off the mattress once the ravenette prods at a certain part inside you. 

Where there is darkness, there is also light, and that’s exactly what could be said to describe the glimmer in his eyes upon discovering this hidden gem of information. He continues his ministrations, watching in fascination and lust as you grind into his touch. 

Meanwhile, his cock is begging to be released from its restraints, throbbing due to the display. Sakusa was hoping to hold out for a bit longer, mapping out your body in ways he hopes no one else has, but along with any logic and morality, his patience flies out the window. 

You whimper when the athlete slides his fingers out; he almost wants to coo, assure you that he’ll make you feel all better. He can’t, of course, so he opts to taste you, lick his digits clean of your slick. He’s certain he almost cums on the spot, your sweetness consuming his tastebuds (as well as a hint of bitter leather) and leaving its mark in his memories. The wing spiker’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he tries to refrain from groaning. 

When his gaze returns to your form, he’s swift with your pants, further sliding them down before doing the same to himself. Having his cock out of its confinements already does plenty for him, but not enough. Sakusa recalls how your cunt squeezed his fingers, practically sucking them in. You were warm, dripping, even with his gloves in the way. And with how eager he is to have you make a mess on his dick, he knows he’s no longer the same person he was before meeting you.

The athlete taps the tip of his cock against your clit a few times, just to watch you squirm, before sliding into your entrance. Only a few inches in, and he already has to dig his teeth into his bottom lip. None of this was a part of his plan—he’s not even sure he had one in the first place; he just needed to see you, feel your presence in some way, shape or form. And the latter is more than he could ever ask for, your insides hugging him just as tight as they did his fingers. The lack of a barrier is the icing on the cake. 

He’s bottomed out before he knows it, and Sakusa doesn’t know where to look: your face contorting from being filled to the brim or your cunt stretching open to accommodate his size. Either one intensifies the swirling of his lower stomach. All he can do for now is play with your clit until you appear to feel better. (And if that means you clench harder around him, then so be it. He’s come this far as is.)

After a few minutes, the wing spiker reels his hips back with a deep breath. His thrusts are gentle, as much of a challenge as it may be to hold back. He bites his bottom lip as he feels you hug every inch of his cock, threatening to milk him for all he’s worth when he’s barely begun. You’re so much better than his hand; no fantasy can compare. 

A few strokes in, and Sakusa’s restraint is thinning. Every time, he thrusts in a bit deeper, a bit faster, a bit harder. You’re quietly moaning between pants, your face twisting from a pained expression to one much lewder. Pretty lips parted with brows both furrowed and raised, you have the ravenette throwing his head back with a silent groan. 

Unfortunately for him, that’s when he catches sight of that damn necklace again. His grip on the sheets next to your head tightens, his thrusts sloppy as his mind races. What made Atsumu think he had the right? Does he think a necklace is all it’ll take to get you? Sakusa drops his head to glare daggers as you continue to mewl and whimper. What do you think is happening right now? Who are you thinking about right now? 

His mind keeps reeling, and the wing spiker fails to notice how he’s taking out his aggression in his thrusts.

Your whimpers grow to pathetic cries, tears forming in the corners of your eyes, and his hold on your sheets move to your wrists on instinct. With the mental spiral and physical force, the ravenette fails to notice your eyes shoot open.

Then, you gasp. “Sakusa!”

He hears the fear in your voice, no doubt. Yet, in a situation like this, with you beneath him, tears streaming down your cheeks as your sobbing and panting mix together, he can’t help but create a more beautiful scenario. You’re begging for him, his cock, needing him to fuck you stupid and fill you up to the brim, the pleasure so overwhelming that your nails are digging into his back, only his shirt shielding his skin from the potential marks. 

The athlete doesn’t think; he slams his lips against yours, his tongue quick to explore your mouth as his release hangs on to the edge. And when your pussy flutters around his dick, creams around it, it’s the push he needs. Hot spurts of cum paint your insides white as Sakusa kisses you harder, his hips stilling. Even as he groans against your mouth, he can hear your choked moans, and he never wants any of this to end. 

But that’s not how it works. Eventually, you both come down from your highs, his cock going soft and out of cum to give you. The wing spiker doesn’t pull out, but it doesn’t stop the white liquid from trying to seep out. It makes him shiver, slowly ending your kiss for you both to catch some air. The string of saliva connected to your lips that follows him as he sits up distracts him; something else to bind you two together. It’s messy, so so so messy. 

He loves it. 

You’re both breathing hard for the next several seconds, your terrified expression not faltering as your body trembles lightly. 

“Wha—How?” you gasp, sob, you’re not sure, and neither is he. He’s only half-listening, still floating on that release and too far away. “Sakusa, how did you get in?”

There they are again: those eyes. Empty pools, yet always full of judgement. Like you’re the crazy one. Tracing the river streams down your face and clumps of shields for lashes, they seemingly do more talking than his mouth. 

Then, Sakusa reaches a hand out to cup your cheek. You flinch, but it doesn’t stop him from wiping a stray tear. Even with your helpless sounds quieting down, the silence isn’t any less deafening. And when his voice, smooth and deep and a little too nonchalant, invades the room, you shiver.

“I was always here.”

© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify

[icannot3]

"Prom Night"

Peter Maximoff x Reader

Word count: 4.2k (a biggie, sorry)

Warnings/notes: NSFW BELOW THE CUT (just the standard stuff, yk?) P in V penetration. Oral (male receiving). Lots of plot before. Despite the title, both Peter and the reader are adults.

Taglist: @taintandviolent @lilthbunny (comment if you'd like to be added!)

..........

The music is loud, and the atmosphere radiates unadulterated exultation. Like any other traditional party event, bright neon lights illuminate the otherwise dimmed area. The dining hall of the institution looked nothing like it had before. The entire area had been cleared out besides the tables full of delectable treats to snack on in the corner. Students were laughing and dancing to the beat of the music, most very uncoordinated, but that didn't matter. For the first time ever, the young mutants got the chance to feel like normal teenagers. It brought you so much joy to know that it was your idea to have an annual prom at the school, this being the very first and very successful attempt at doing so.

You could see a few students of yours beginning to come out of their shells. Many of them never got the chance to participate in such a social setting. You can tell they felt moderately awkward at the start but slowly allowed themselves to enjoy. This prom was much different than the ones you attended in high school. You always remember them to be boring but customary, hence why everyone still went for the hell of it. Part of you wished you could have had a lively experience like this one, knowing all too well how different you felt in the crowd then, as a secret mutant scared of what others may do if they knew.

But that's all in the past, and truly you could not be happier as chaperone. In the crowd of people, you see bodies being pushed to the side as an undetectable figure zipps past them. You know it's Peter, one, because obviously his powers, and two, because the blur is quickly making its way to the snack bar. Who else would be so desperate to get to them? You giggle at his determined feat. It isn't long before he runs up to you, a plate with a large, overstacked assortment of cake and cookies in hand.

Peter places his free hand on your back, his hand warm against it. "Geez, you look like a supermodel!" Like any school dance, everyone was expected to dress to the nines. All funded by the Professor through the kindness of his very rich heart. The staff is expected to wear nothing short of this, everyone in expensive formal gowns to match the children. Peter's outfit makes him look exceptionally handsome, even though he's already loosened his silver tie sloppily from around his neck. Other than that, his suit is black with a white undershirt that compliments his silver accents. To be real, the color is his trademark. Quite literally, "Quicksilver."

You pull him into a hug he reciprocates as much as he can with only one arm. "Thanks, Quicky. You clean up nicely, too!" Your finger comes below his tie, playfully flicking it upwards to tease him. "You seem like you're already excited for the after party?"

His head jerks back, and Peter lets out a dramatic sigh. "You have no idea how uncomfortable these feel. Sure, women have to wear heels, but I really think that this is the equal evil we should also acknowledge. Plus, you guys get to shamelessly take them off at the dance because everyone understands. Xavier is absolutely insane for wearing this every day." He continues to passionately ramble about the inconvenience, referring to it as "neck prison." You cackle at everything he says because it's Peter. He's naturally always funny. Or perhaps it's your blossoming feelings for him that make you feel this way.

Sometimes, you wonder if Peter is just naturally a touchy person or if there's something more behind his lingering nudges and holds. You certainly entertain it regardless, allowing him to hug and hold you as he pleases. His fingers are delicately playing with the stray hairs against your neck, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He has to know how crazy he drives you.

The timing feels perfect as a slow song comes on through the loud speakers. You silently prayed to whatever DJ God there may be for giving such a great opportunity. You hold his hand in yours, his plate being disregarded elsewhere as you take him to the dancefloor. "You gotta dance with me, I never got to do this with anyone in high school! Please?" Your request accidentally seems more like a demand with your excitement, but he knows you'd never make him do anything he doesn't want. He grins, keeping your hand in his own and wrapping his arm around your waist before swaying to the music.

You're friends. That's all. There's nothing more to it, and there never will be. You conclude that you'd simply have to die with these feelings because certainly they aren't ever going away. It's been years already that you've pined for him. Years that the two of you have been stuck by some imaginary friendship glue. Many of your days are together, you teach gym class with him. When you go on missions, Peter compliments your mutations so well that it's rare you're ever separated. He's what you would call your platonic soul mate.

But that platonic bit feels really out of place when he gives you a look that makes your heart ache. You decide that looking at his eyes that are staring deeply into your own is not helping subside your confidential feelings. Part of you wants to read more into his actions and convince yourself that he feels the same way, but you know that only leads to a shit-ton of misery once you realize that his feelings are still unrequited. So, instead, you rest your forehead against his chest and think about things that don't make you flustered. Like what you're doing tomorrow for training and not how his new cologne for the occasion smells stupidly nice.

The song picks up the beat for the chorus, and either Peter secretly takes dance classes on the low, or he's just naturally this smooth. His hand lifts yours up in the air as he encourages you to twirl. You do, the dress you wear swaying around with your spinning. He brings you back to his chest and then decides to continue to baffle you by dipping you to the floor. You lean back, trusting him fully as he pulls you back up.

By the time the song is over, the two of you are laughing, and you feel as if you can't breathe. "Didn't know you had that in you, Maxipad." The nickname is from an inside joke that you remind him of because it embarrasses him. You used it in hopes that it would make your own pitifully flustered state less noticeable.

"Please, all of those arcades I played Dance Evolution at growing up had me ready." He made his way back to his snack stash, grabbing a cookie. "Even though I was more of a Pin-ball guy. I still have record scores at the arcade in the town I grew up in."

You steal a cookie off of his plate, the bitter-sweet chocolate delight melting on your tastebuds. "You still need to show me what an arcade is like. Maybe we could hit that one." Previously, you had a conversation where you revealed that you've never been to an arcade in the past, which left Peter deeply offended. He vowed to take you to one soon, but the two of you as of lately had found yourselves so busy there was simply never a time.

"Damnit! You're right." His expression of distraught quickly changed to that of a happy one with an idea. "There's an arcade machine in my room I can introduce you to! I mean, it's nowhere near as fun as the entire arcade experience, but-"

"- That sounds perfect, Peter." You didn't even have to be convinced.

You stayed at the dance until it ended for another hour, and Peter seemed to be rather eager to get back, considering the cleaning was going to be a group effort with all of the teachers; but he took the initiative to do it all himself instead of waiting and finished it all within a minute. Not that anyone was complaining, though. It was well past midnight, and class would still be resumed tomorrow at the normal crack-ass of dawn. Any sane person would pass up Peter's offer and reschedule for another time. But not you, you were so unimaginably happy to get invited to his room that the offer still remained as good as gold.

He sped you to his room, and it was everything you expected. For a man almost in his thirties, his decor resembles that of a teenage boy. This ranges from posters, snacks, and scattered piles of clothes on the floor. You can sense his immediate panic due to him not preparing for your presence. Frantically, he zips through his room, and a moment later, it's spotless. You laugh at this. "You know you don't have to do that for me. Mine is probably way worse."

You saunter over to the large arcade machine in the corner, touching the plastic buttons. "Did you buy this thing?" It's clearly a very expensive piece of equipment, gathering by its newer looking condition. Peter comes up behind you, chuckling to himself. "Nah, bro." His response made you certain that he'd stolen it, likely in his youth when he was a bit more scandalous.

Turning around to face him, you notice he's rather close. As much as he was earlier, except clearly not for the reason of dancing. You can't help but remember how low his hand was against your back. If he'd moved it even an inch further, he would have been touching you much more sensually. You wouldn't mind if he had.

As a matter of fact, you gathered that it's strange he'd invite you up so late. Yes, it's Peter, and he's never been the predictable type. But never in the years that you've known him has he invited you to spend quality time together at one in the morning, in his bedroom.

Once again, you shake yourself out of your lingering thoughts, ashamed. You're so ridiculously horny that it's embarrassing. He remains where he stood, playing with the strap of your dress.

"That's gotta be uncomfortable. Do you want something else to put on?" His thumb grazes over the red mark where the strap had been rubbing against your shoulder. Before you can even answer the question, he's searching through his dresser. He pulls out a Led Zeppelin t-shirt and sweats. Not wanting to be rude, you take the clothes and step in his personal bathroom for privacy. Looking in the mirror gave you a small boost of confidence. Your makeup looks still wonderfully intact, and the dress you picked hugs your curves beautifully. It makes you feel so elegant that you almost feel sad to take it off.

But you can't. When your fingers give the zipper on your back a hard tug after many other failed attempts, you begin to panic. The fabric must be seriously jammed for this to happen. You've never had this much of a struggle taking off an article of clothing. For over ten minutes, you desperately try, breaking a sweat as you do so. That sadness from earlier changes to desperation as you try to then pull the dress over your head. You are unable to do this. It's too tight and won't even come over your shoulders.

Peter must have started to grow concerned with your absence. Hearing a knock on the door makes you jump. His voice from the other side is quiet. "You alright in there, bud?"

Your hands cover your face in embarrassment. You feel like you want to scream. It takes you a moment to awnser, fighting yourself on what to do next. There's a small window in the bathroom you think is large enough to jump out of, but considering your mutation is not flight and the fact that you're on the second floor makes you decide against it.

Finally, deciding to fess up, you stand at the door, opening it. "I'm stuck. My zipper is stuck." Clearly having no issues himself, he is already in his own comfortable clothing. You can see his suit disregarded on the floor in the corner of the room, that godforsaken tie on top of the pile. You know you can trust Peter to help you. He's not a creep. Not anything besides the occasional childish sex joke.

Peter laughs, motioning for you to turn around. "Geez, it seems like you just want a reason for me to undress you." You turn your head back to give him an eye roll, but accept his help and lift your hair up to assist him. His hands are gentle as he fights with the zipper. He seems to struggle as well, fiddling with the fabric for quite a while before finally you feel the sweet release of the restrictive clasp coming undone. After hours, you can finally breathe.

He'd just undone the top, but his hands stayed in their spot. Tingles went down your spine as he continued to slowly bring the zipper down. It was getting low. When you put it on earlier, it went all the way down to your ass before it was zipped. Right before he gets to that point, you stop him with your hand. Turning around to face him, you awkwardly smile; his hand still behind you.

Ultimately, you had enough, placing your hand on his chest. You aren't brainless. That was definitely a signal. "Peter, did you really invite me up here to play games? If not, that's fine, but I'm kinda dying from anticipation right now. Sometimes, I feel like you're leading me on. But then you do things that make me think we're just friends, and it's really confusing. And I have no problem with just being friends, but it's the middle of the night, and I'm standing in your bedroom half naked instead of playing Pong like we said we would and -"

He ends your rambling by pulling you close, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips. You deeply inhale, taking a moment to register what's going on before kissing back. It feels heavenly, like drifting down a lazy river that doesn't have any kids in it relaxing. Like, your brain is slowly going to mush and becoming more and more useless as you continue, but you're totally okay with becoming a human vegetable if that means you can just keep going. You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the connection. He tightens his arms around your back before lifting you up off of the ground, slowly twirling you around in a circle while in the air. This makes you snicker against his lips, which he reciprocates. The happy moment makes your brain foggy with admiration.

"I'm an absolute loser for not doing this sooner." Peter lays you down on the bed, joining beside you. Your legs hang off of the edge of the furniture. "I really, really like you. I have for a while. When we decided to have a prom I wanted to ask you to go with me so bad and be all cheesy about it, but I pussied out so I decided that the next best option was to get Jean and Raven to teach me how to dance so that we could." His words are being sputtered out like rapid-fire. "Please tell me I'm not finally saying this too late, and you haven't met someone else?" His voice is soft, laced with hints of doubt. He brings his fingers up to your hair, brushing it off of your cheek and behind your ear.

Your discomposure becomes all the more obvious as you pick at your nails, fiddling with your hands anxiously. This entire moment is more than you could even fathom in the past, like a fairy-tale coming to life. He likes you. He has liked you! Every pent-up feeling you've ever had for years has been reciprocated. "Peter -." You pause, trying to think on what to say. "You have no idea how happy that makes me. You wouldn't be late even if you had waited another few years to tell me that. I've liked you for a while."

Peter rolls himself on top of you, pressing multiple kisses to your face. He starts with your forehead, traveling his lips quickly down your nose, then rapidly on your cheeks. The affection feels pleasantly smothering. Finally, with one last final peck on the space between your brows, he connects himself to your lips once more. It's even better than the first time, giving you more of an electric sensation.

You grow heated, the sensation making you feel aroused. The kisses on your end grow more open-mouthed and inviting. When his tongue slips inside hungrily, you whimper, reveling in the feeling. This only encourages Peter more as he lifts his arm behind your back, making it arch while gliding his other hand down your torso. He groans delightfully, feeling your curves with fervor.

"Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?" His voice is deep with longing. His tongue laps against the sensitive flush of your neck. He finds the spot that makes you gasp the loudest, sucking the area just enough to make a small mark of his presence. You definitely don't ever want him to stop. He continues to go lower, trailing down between your breasts. Peter pulls you up, sliding the already half-off dress down your shoulders. His face turns bright red as a gawks at the sight of your bare chest. His finger rolls over your soft bud as he feels it harden beneath it. Squeezing your soft mound, he plays with you for just a little longer before connecting his lips to yours. There's a certain gentle urgency in his touch that brings you to an otherworldly place. Nothing else matters in this moment besides his hand that's slowly coming up your thigh. You can feel yourself already slick with arousal as you squeeze your legs together for some kind of friction. Peter senses this, using his hand to spread you apart as much as he can with your still clothed bottom-half.

He cups your center with his palm, rubbing over the area. His fingers curl inside of your folds, the ghost of a touch teasingly going over where you need him most. You mewl desperately for him, grinding into his hand. He grins against your neck, chuckling to himself. "So wet for me already? That's extremely hot. Have you ever gotten this worked up for me before, when you're all alone?"

He finally rubs slow circles against your clit, causing your eyes to screw shut with ecstacy. You can only bring yourself to nod as a response, finding yourself physically unable to speak in such a state. His hard-on is pressing against your leg. You can tell he's just as desperate as you are. Taking your hand, you press it against his chest to signal him to stop. His movements coming to an end leave you with a sense of longing as you get up, but quickly, you remove the rest of your dress and allow it to fall to the floor. Fervently, you slide down his pants and boxers. His cock springs to life after no longer being restricted by the confines. His tip is already leaking precum. The craziest thing about this entire ordeal is how natural it feels, but perhaps that's because of how often you find yourself imagining it.

Peter swallows, knowing where you're going with this as you wrap your hand around his shaft. You squeeze him lightly in your hand, testing the waters by giving a few slow pumps while watching his reactions. His face contorts in pleasure as he leans back on his elbows. He refuses to look away, fascinated by the sight of you. You experimentally lick from the bottom of his length to the tip, swirling your tongue around it. The taste is actually quite nice, faintly sweet. You suck his tip once more before finally bobbing your head down, taking as much of him as you can. It's only a little more than halfway before you can feel him against the back of your throat. You have to hold back gagging from the sensation. Peter lets out a deep groan, saying your name like it's his mantra. As you continue, his groans grow more needy. His hips instinctively thrust upwards, causing your eyes to water as he fucks your throat. A part of you grows embarrassed, knowing the tears in your eyes and swollen lips are not the greatest sight to see. But Peter trains his eyes on you, mesmerized.

He pulls you off of him, taking off his shirt before aligning himself with you. You look down and admire his toned muscles, stroking them curiously. It's wonderful. He feels and looks like one of those majestic Greek statues. Not the weird ones with small dicks and missing noses. Peter's cock teasingly rubs between your wet folds, brushing against your sensitive clit. You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him to go inside. He begins to push his tip in, slowly bottoming out. When he finally does, he gasps, squeezing your hips. The feeling is delectable as he stretches you out so perfectly. You can feel your walls fluttering around him. Nodding your head, you signal for him to continue.

His pace quickens fast, and Peter pulls one of your legs up as he thrusts to go deeper. His eyes are trained on your expression, trying to find the perfect spot to hit in order to fully satisfy you. When he achieves this, the upward curve of his dick rubbing an area that makes your eyes practically roll to the back of your skull, he drills you just like that into the mattress. You find yourself unable to hold back the unholy noises you had no idea you could make. Pleasure overwhelming enough to make you mentally check out.

You begin feeling an all too familiar intense fondness in your abdomen. It's like a tital wave threatening to spill over. You grab Peter's shoulders, pulling him close. He peppers kisses along your collarbone, thrusts getting more uncoordinated and sloppy. He's getting close too, you can tell by his labored breathing and moans that are growing slightly more high-pitched and frequent. His hand reaches down, buzzing against your throbbing bud to finish you off. Your eyes shoot wide open, not expecting that suprise. Sure, you've seen him use this technique in the past to break glass, but never had you imagined that he could do this. He pumps once more deeply inside of you, sending you over the edge. Blinding pleasure explodes throughout your body, sending you into an oblivion. Peter pulls himself out, cumming on the soft skin of your stomach and letting out a guttural moan.

He collapses on top of you, nuzzling his head in the crook of your shoulder. Sweetly, his hand runs through your hair, a string of unintelligible compliments being whispered in your ear. "You're so perfect, baby. Never, never, never ever letting you go. Never. Don't ever leave me." Those are a few of the many you manage to make out. You tightly embrace him, allowing yourself to relax against him.

You feel a sudden shift, and in the blink of an eye you find yourself wearing the clothes he gave you earlier, all cleaned up. He is instantly laying beside you again, fully dressed, with a blanket covering the two of you. He pulls you against him as he lays on his back. Smiling, you trace small circles onto his chest. "We should do that more often, huh?"

He nods excitedly, pulling you in tightly. "Oh hell yeah, we've got years of being deprived we gotta make up for."

[pinguwrites]

Black Heart | Masterlist

Pairing -> Thomas Shelby x fem!poc!reader

Summary -> The year is 1920, and you have no idea how you got here. One moment, you were in your bed, and the next, you were lying in a field of grass, thousands of miles away from home. All you know is that you're in a small town called Birmingham, and you need money. Fortunately, the local gangster is in the market for an accountant, and you're in the market for a job.

Rating -> Mature (12 year age gap, swearing, smut, slow burn, depictions of murder and torture and suicide, mentions of rape, + more warnings with each chapter)

Disclaimer -> I do not own Peaky Blinders, nor am I affiliated with it. This is just fanfiction. I don’t own the pictures or font used in the banner.

A/N -> I’m really excited to start this series and I hope anyone reading this enjoys my little delusion as well. The story begins a little bit before season two of the show and while it will be following the show’s plot it will also have other storylines and may derive from the set timeline. Also, I want to note that I’ve written the reader as female, a person of color, and of American nationality. Reader can be envisioned in whatever way, but as poc, I didn’t feel comfortable writing this story without acknowledging the racism and sexism a person like me would face in this time. That’s the only reason why that’s in there, and it can be ignored as it’s not really major. Thank you for reading!

CURRENTLY ON HOLD + REWRITE

Playlist ->

Preview

Chapter One: Evening Cigarettes

[bunji-enthusiast]

A True Scourge — Scourge The Hedgehog

Note || He is very cool me thinks.

WC || 1,033

Sypnosis || He finds himself warming up to you.

“Take it easy-”

“OW!”

He winced, shrugging his shoulder after you had made the wrong move in applying the bandage. You glare at him, then let out a pitying sigh. Sometimes you really question what kind of choices you actually made that earned you a place alongside the rebellious hedgehog. “You gotta stay still, impatient ass.”

Scourge turned around to refute your comment, then saw the meaner glare you could possibly display toward him. “Got it.” He murmured, looking back ahead as he sat still with the most possible amount of patience he could muster in spite of all the pain coursing through his lower left half of his body. He wondered what would happen after this, even then he still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact you were actually helping him.

Not turning him away, especially even with how he had behaved toward you in recent events. Scourge counted himself lucky that you decided to actually help him. “Hey… uh, why are you even helpin’ me anyway?”

You paused in your steps, taking the time to finally wrap the last part of it to seal it off and allow it to be free without falling apart. His arm and abdomen were heavily injured, how that happened you only have a hint of an idea why. But that was not your problem right now, with another prolonged sigh, you picked up his leather jacket and set it by Scourge. 

“Well, friend or foe,” You begin, swinging your legs over the ledge to align yourself next to Scourge. “You were injured, I simply couldn’t let it go untreated.”

But me?

You gotta be outta your mind. 

Scourge’s brows furrowed in thought, lips lifting to reveal his rather sharp teeth as a frown was displayed on his face. Rather unusual in comparison to his usual smile that he so often displays in the company of others, not just you alone. Something must be bothering him very badly if he’s left without any rhyme or reason to actually speak in turn now. You were starting to get a little worried about his drawn out silence. 

He leans forward, hands leaning against the thresholds of his legs to support his shifted position. “Too many things happened at once, guess I got too confused.” He admitted, hand now going against the back of his hand, scratching it in his demeanor of slight embarrassment. Scourge never really was one to share any of his personal feelings or issues, but it was this small and momentary thought that had slipped out of his mouth.  

You chuckled warmly, patting his back to reassure him it was fine. Scourge let out a huff, deflating into his spot as time went on. 

“You're pretty confusing sometimes man.” You spoke, breaking the awkward tensions that resided in the air. He let out a hum of acknowledgment at your words, one of his ears flicked along in action. A spotty habit residual to something he had done very often when he was alone by himself during his days in trying to take over Mobius. Scourge wasn’t well supported, and nothing of the sort could be said the same about his father.

Even in this lifetime or any other, he will never know that love. 

“I get that alot.” He scoffed, waving his hand off about the idea. 

But he was pretty content in this kind of love, no matter what it may be named. He didn’t want to lose you again, or ever in this lifetime of his. Something he hated to admit aloud, so he appreciated the works of a dear mind. Emotions were a fickle and complicated thing he never gave much thought to, always too busy throughout the days to even actually face or confront them head on. 

Now that he was here with you, it was something entirely different. Unique and kind, not anything too fast. It made Scourge take a step back, and evaluate himself. Hell even in spite of his attitude it wasn’t something he could just replace so easily, but he really did appreciate you.

Scourge has a feeling you know that too. 

“Oh wow!” He perks up at your notable excitement, eyes filled with amusement and curiosity. So he asks, “What’s got you worked up sweetheart?” Scourge raises a brow with a chuckle escaping him. You point up to the sky, full of shimmering stars and beautiful shades of blue and purples. In words alone he couldn’t describe the mere majesty of the sight, but he was all the better that he was able to accompany you for such a thing. 

“Normally this doesn’t happen very often..” You murmur, a sweat drop trailing down your face. “But I'd try to take a picture of it when I can, except I don’t have my camera with me.” You explained, holding out your hand as you spoke within animated gestures. Scourge nods, letting out a hum of agreement. 

“Pretty sure your eyes are all ya need.”

You turn to him, eyes filled with surprise at his words. “Now that is not the Scourge I know.” You grin, turning to lean towards him at a slight angle. Scourge winces, leaning back as he holds up his gloved hands in surrender. 

“Now listen,” He groans, almost coming out in a growl, “Don’t expect this to happen often, I am not that kinda guy got it?” He admits, cheeks blushing with a fury you never expected to see. You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, returning to your usual position as you were getting sore. Your shoulders deflate in defeat, no longer being able to find the words to continue the conversation. 

“The wind feels nice.” You sigh, reveling in the breeze. You felt a sudden jolt crawl up your arm, feeling warmth seep into your cold-ridden body. 

“Scourge?” You spoke, feeling warmer now thanks to him. He pulled you in close, nuzzling against the top of your temple in a means of warmth. He let out a forlorn growl, somewhat embarrassed he even did this in the first place. You certainly didn’t expect this to happen at all really, but it felt nice.

You ain’t bad..

Not at all.

[godihatethiswebsite]

Desert Oasis

✽ Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x f!reader (The Mummy AU)

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°

✽ Part 5 - Preparations and impressive second impressions

Since I've accepted this train isn't apparently stopping, I promise at some point this week I'll try to learn how to format things so everything looks better~

Kyle attempted to pry the specifics of what happened in the prison from you on your way back to the estate, badgering you incessantly until you waved him off with the excuse that you needed a chance to sit down for a minute with a hot cup of tea and just breathe. Today had been filled with far more excitement for you than normal and you needed a break from it all to decompress after committing an act of thievery and lying through your teeth to break a man out of jail.

You slipped inside your father's old study upon your return and remained there for some minutes, scrawling out words only to crumple them up in frustration when they wouldn't come out right. Eventually you were satisfied with your task, handing off a few marked envelopes once finished to a passing servant to have them sent out through the post. With any luck the contents inside would assure that you wouldn't eventually end up in the same place you'd just come from for your deception.

Surprisingly Kyle did not bother you for the rest of the day, having parted ways at the bottom of the stairs to 'begin preparations' for this wild endeavor. You also suspected by how quickly he skittered away from you that part of it had something to do with the fact that it was a convenient way for your cousin to avoid bodily harm for failing to mention not only knowing the man you'd just met but also the explicit details of his 'extenuating circumstances' as well. He knew you most likely wouldn't have agreed to it just based off the latter, but after all was said and done it at least gave you some slight comfort to know the ruffian in question wasn't a complete unknown.

That being said, you weren't quite ready to acknowledge the idea that part of you was bitter at the fact Kyle hadn't felt like he could be honest with you either.

It took your cousin a few days to get everything in place for your departure, certain arrangements needing to be made regarding the procurement of supplies, travel tickets, and the handling of affairs here while you were gone. It hadn't really occurred to you just how much needed to be arranged for a plan like this - though to be fair this wasn't exactly your idea in the first place. You may have been the one to bring the artifact up in casual conversation, but he was the one dragging you along as always on this little adventure. Let him fuss over the details. Your area of expertise was within the city itself.

You also knew he would never say anything to you outloud, but you'd be surprised if he hadn't also left instructions for what to do should the worst happen and neither one of you returned. You might have lived a comfortably sheltered life up until this point, but that didn't mean you were naive enough to not realize the foolish dangers you were putting yourselves in either.

Kyle was a decorated war veteran and a man you could implicitly trust with your protection, his comrade just as fearsome if the stories weren't grossly overembellished. That didn't mean the three of you were invincible...

Still, what were the odds that the one person who could lead you to the lost City of the Dead just so happened to be him?

There were a handful of men that your cousin talked about often in years past, but MacTavish's name had come up in conversation far more frequently than the rest. Sure it was obvious that the two of them induced troublemaking tendencies within each other, but it wasn't all mischief and hijinks that he spoke of. There was an honest account of bravery in Kyle's recollections. For as uncouth as he made the man out to be at times, you couldn't deny having previously felt a sense of comfort when letters arrived home from distant battlefields of hard fought victories with John at his side. You'd trusted him enough to to look after your cousin back then.

But how well did Kyle really know this man now? It had been some years since the two of them would've served together, an awful long time for a person to change. How did he know that John was going to be the same soldier that once pushed him out of the way of enemy fire and took a bullet in the side meant for your cousin's heart? He obviously wasn't employed in his His Majesty's service anymore. Did he leave with a medal on his chest or was he dishonorably discharged? His previous incarceration suggested towards the latter, certainly not doing him any favors to earn your confidence in any case.

You were putting an awful lot of faith in this man. Let's just hope by the end of this that you wouldn't be proven wrong.

The servants helped you gather up your belongings the morning of your departure while your lady's maid got you situated, meeting your cousin at the car with a look that said he wasn't quite out of the dog house yet but that there were more pressing thoughts on your mind.

There was a nervous excitement bubbling in the pit of your stomach; you'd never done anything like this before. All travels with your family in the past tended to only go between Cairo and London and only for special occasions. This would be the first place you've gone to that was wholly and completely unfamiliar. Uncharted territory in every sense of the word.

The pier was crowded but not overly so, full of bustling tourists and merchants hauling in their wares. You stuck close to Kyle, your arm looped through his as he guided you down the docks towards the boat he chartered for you upriver. You'd kept your eye out for your third companion, the pessimist in you doubting he would even show. Why risk his life on a foolhardy endeavor when he'd just been granted his freedom?

"You trust my judgement so little you think I'd employ a man to help us who I thought wasn't up to it?" Kyle grinned down at you, amusement clear in his tone as he guided you out of the way of a fisherman passing by.

"Well I don't know." You replied in gentle exasperation, sidestepping a shipment of barrels smelling pungently of oil. "You obviously have more experience with him than I do, but I'm just saying: have you even minutely considered the possibility that we're about to board a vessel headed to a place neither of us knows the destination of and the one man who does isn't on it?"

"Relax, dolly. MacTavish is good for his word. No need to go getting hysterical on me now."

How could he be so at ease about this when you're just trying not to jump out of your skin in anxiousness?

"I hardly think expressing concern for the well-being of our expedition warrants the term hysterical. Or have you forgotten the part where your blessed happy reunion took place with one of you two wearing shackles? He's a criminal, Kyle."

The look your cousin gave you at the implication was one of mild disappointment at your faithlessness. "He's no crook, dolly. And frankly you best be getting past that part if we're to spend the next few days with him. Can't go on this voyage without him whether you object to the man or not."

You resisted the urge to pout at the reminder in his words that you did in fact need John for this entire undertaking. It still wasn't fair how Kyle could make you feel like a petulant child even if you thought you were being perfectly reasonable. Didn't mean you weren't going to grumble about it though.

"Can he at least stay in the cargo hold with the horses? Would certainly fit right in with them considering his lack of personal hygiene and barbaric nature."

"Ye wouldnae happen ta be talkin' 'bout me there, would ya lass?"

A surprised squeak left your mouth at the sudden interruption of a voice chiming in behind you, spinning on your heel and almost losing your balance if not for a steadying hand belonging to your cousin on your shoulder. Your face burned from being caught off guard so gracelessly, raising your eyes to view the owner of such a familiar accent and–

Oh.

Oh my.

This was not the same man you met not two days past. This man was... was....

Good lord.

Gone was the ruffian you first spotted behind the bars of the prison courtyard. The sweat and grime had been washed away to reveal fresh tanned skin dressed in fitted khaki; the subtle spice of cologne a welcome change to your senses that had the peculiar effect of blanketing the edges of your mind with a thin layer of warm fuzzy haze. His once fluffy beard was shaved down to a dark layer of stubble showcasing an attractive jawline and expectant smirk.

His hair... you could safely say in all your years you'd never seen a man with hair shorn on the sides leaving a thick stripe down the middle. You hadn't spent much time back in the UK, but perhaps it was a style more common the further you went up north?

And why on god's green earth did such a style have to look so unusually pleasing on him? Bizarre to be sure, but oddly appropriate.

If it wasn't for the familiar sparkle in those vibrant ocean blue eyes of his you'd have been sure you were looking at a different man entirely. This was the MacTavish your cousin spoke so reverently of in days of yore?

"Dolly here was just saying she thinks you'd fit in better company with the livestock rather than up on deck with the rest of polite society."

If you had the ability to speak you would have admonished your cousin for throwing you under the carriage like that. Alas your brain was still trying to comprehend the vision in front of you so at odds with your previous perceptions.

"Was she now?" The sleeves of his jacket strained against his arms as he crossed them over his chest, raising his eyebrows in a manner that suggested interest rather than insult. "Ye think me a brute there, hen?"

Your clever mind could not devise a way to talk itself out of this scenario, having the decency to at least look embarrassed at being caught while averting your gaze to one of the buttons on his white dress shirt instead.

"I apologize for my discourteous assessment of you, Mr. MacTavish. You did not exactly garner the best of first impressions."

"Hmmm. Ah might be a bit of an animal, lass, but one who's been well trained at least."

His gaze flicked down below your waist, shaking his head at what he discovered.

"Garrick, mate. Lettin' a lady carry 'er own bags?" He clicked his tongue in playful chastisement, reaching down to relieve you of the heavy burden with his own rucksack tossed over his shoulder, warm calloused fingers brushing against yours as he transferred your luggage to his hold instead. You refused to acknowledge the way your heart flutters at the gesture.

You stand there in mild shock as John skirts past you and climbs the ramp leading up to the vessel, flashing his ticket at one of the crew members onboard before disappearing inside with a confident swagger.

Kyle delights in your stunned silence, leaning down into your space to gloat over your being caught so impossibly off guard. "Positively barbarous, isn't he dolly?"

The accompanying thwack on his chest and subsequent grunt of pain relieve some of the pent up tension you have as you follow along after your third companion, adding an unexpected variable to what should have been for all intents and purposes a relaxing boat ride up the Nile. The hard part would come once you reached the desired port and began the true struggle through the desert. For now, you just had to survive being in present company for a few days until you could turn your focus on the real challenge and prove yourself useful.

So why did you feel like you were in even more trouble now than when you began?

°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°

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[Edited 5/8/24: changed formatting, title, tags, and numbering system]

[firadessa]

Please acknowledge Bleakwatch Chronicles, Tinker Bell and the Lost City. I understand that BW chronicles may not have as much fans and are turned off by the art style. Also the author never posted (Zack Loran Clark) much promo for the book unlike Allison, nor mentioned anything about DF on his IG page. It is intended for a younger audience. However, I am much more excited for this book as it pertains to the movie universe. So please, just clap if you believe if you will.

As this is the first book to come out since 2017 that is labeled as "Disney Fairies" and the second spinoff- like this is important. You don't have to buy the book or give it the free promotion, but acknowledge the existence of it at least. WoS is not labeled as DF, if it matters.

Here are some of the reasons why I am more excited for Bleakwatch Chronicles than I am for Wings of Starlight by Allison Saft (Clarion x Milori YA Novel):

It's a post canon story implied to take reference to the cancelled Tinker Academy movie where TB goes to study at the Tinker Academy on the mainland. The art seems like they took references especially when directly compared to the concept art. WoS is a backstory.

It releases first, BWC releases in November 2024 and WoS releases in Feb.

It seems like more of original concept to me, literally because of the new concepts like the Flutterpunks and the implied secret cities of the Bleakwatch and Clockwork Capital.

New characters like Quin and Ozwald will be joining TB on this journey.

It expands on a old concept, and tweaks it in a way that makes more sense. IMO, an idea like a Tinker Academy seems to hold less weight because before the events of Tinker Bell fairies couldn't go to the mainland to spread nature, and it's implied they always stay. It is also implied in GFR that Tinker fairies don't typically go to the mainland even if TB's inventions help them in the intensive summer season (the song implies that's why she's there- it's implied in the first movie she goes there whenever she has a job) Vidia is dismayed by this and says "this is why Tinker fairies don't go to the mainland" whilst TB is checking out the car. In a deleted storyboard for Tinker Academy it is implied that it is a prestigious academy that FM gets into before the events of Tinker Bell, yet to me the idea of underground London tinkers makes more sense to me than the academy. Think about it, it's implied that TB and FM are some of the most brilliant Tinkers in pixie hollow and yet the Tinker population is small. (only Clank and Bobble greet her and we see no one in green outfits) Why do you think that is? I personally like the idea of rogue Tinkers who would scavenge on the mainland for parts and self-exile themselves from Pixie Hollow. It explains why FM calls the lost things junk, if the difference in mindset between the mainland tinkers and the pixie hollow tinkers was that the mainland Tinkers are considered "scraps" (get it) while the PH tinkers are considered more put together and community driven. It makes sense that TB being a brilliant Tinker that outshines even Vidia gets such an audience if brilliant Tinkers do not normally last in PH because they are seen as too curious and ambitious, opting to start their own community of outcast Tinkers in the mainland. Vidia's talent switch in The Pirate Fairy also implies that Tinkers have the gift of thought, and literally think differently (regardless of personality) then their non-tinker peers because it's their talent. There is much potential for this storyline as it adds more nuance to the Tinker Bell movie and the dynamic between the nature and non nature talents, something I think it would benefit from. It makes a lot of sense if the edgier steampunk designs came from a secret Tinker counterculture and not a secret academy imo.

The implication of this book suggest revitalizing the Disney Fairies franchise, possibly not just as a "brand". Not sure what that could mean but it's interesting

IMO, Wings of Starlight has more of a "booktok" vibe I'm getting from it. I'm not just saying that because it's YA, but given the (beautiful) cover design it feels more targeted for what Disney thinks grown fans of Disney Fairies might like based on whatever market research was done (and you know it was). WoS has been receiving better marketing and there are people out here that don't even know two books exist. I'm not saying the book looks lazy, slapped together, or unoriginal- or it will just be corporate and bland, I mean I'm a Disney Fairies fan I don't believe that everything is corporate greed lol and like to see creativity in the "unexpected". But I hope that future Disney Fairies books won't just be going for what is "trendy" to reel people in and instead invest in creative storytelling *in general*, in other words I hope they keep concepts and genres broad and inclusive enough so we have the potential for more creative stories. Not just expanded stories on specific characters and stories like the Twisted Tales series, or sticking to specific genres for this specific niche audience in a way that feels too specific. I feel like there has to be some sort of balance struck, or DF may be a little stuck for a while and may still have "missed potential".

On expanded stories, like I said, Disney has done a lot of that and there is an audience for that. However, I prefer the idea of post canon more than a backstory or expansion. From what I know, we know some details of the Milarion backstory and it will be adding more layers and expanding on the dynamics of the existing characters, where the new book seems to be more lore driven in focus.

I don't like Secret of the Wings that much in terms of lore as a lore fanatic. I feel like this book could also retcon other things when possibly trying to explain things that make sense in SOTW. If BWC is good, I can imagine myself thinking about it more after it releases but I can just imagine myself thinking more of how I felt and my emotional reaction after WoS with fading interest afterward, it just sort of feels like the book could resonate with me more y'know? and I got a pretty good gut feeling for that sort of thing.

Underdog bias, just acknowledge it's existence. Do that with the NG graphic novels from 2022, heck the whole Never Girls series. Do that with the whole DF franchise if you are new here somehow. That's it, that's the post.

The mystery. What is the mysterious pocketwatch and who's on the cover?

Copy and pasted plot summary- Tinker Bell loves nothing more than solving a problem. For her, red buttons demand to be pushed, treasure maps need to be followed, and lost things ought to be found. So when a strange fairy crash lands in Pixie Hollow and leaves Tinker Bell two clues to find a mysterious necklace on the Mainland, she really doesn’t have a choice but to help. However, her journey takes an unexpected turn when she discovers a hidden city of fairies living below the streets of London.

In this city called Bleakwatch, she’ll meet the Flutterpunks, the most infamous band of trinket scavengers around. Helping her may just give them their biggest score yet. But when the Flutterpunks’ plan goes haywire, they’ll be forced to choose between a big payday or saving their new friend.

When their adventure takes them inside the glittering Clockwork Capital, Tinker Bell and the Flutterpunks will uncover a villainous secret that threatens all the fairies in Bleakwatch. It turns out there’s more at stake than just finding a missing necklace, and it’ll be up to Tinker Bell to set things right. Luckily, that’s what tinker fairies do best!

[wol-fica]

-𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕀-

parings - jennaortega x singer!fem!reader

summary - you realize your relationship with jenna seems to be crumbling, so you do something about it

warnings - weird therapist, some percy diss, but that’s it :)

an - :) ————————————

“Relationships can be hard, and arguments are a normal thing all people go through.” 

You sighed, fidgeting with your fingers while searching for anything to look at besides your therapist. 

The reason for today's sudden visit was because you felt like your relationship with your girlfriend was going downhill. You understood that life can be tough sometimes, but this was much too stressful for you to keep bottled up.

“Can you tell me some specific reasons why you believe your dating life is struggling?” Your therapist asked, giving you an encouraging smile.

“Well,” You readjusted on the couch, “It just feels like I’m trying way too hard to keep us together, when I shouldn’t be.”

“I understand.”

“Having a girlfriend shouldn’t induce stress or anxiety, it should be fun and enjoyable.” You went on, now feeling like letting all your worries out, “I get that she has a job; I do too! But that isn’t an excuse to treat me terribly….”

“Yes, I agree.” Your therapist said as she jotted down some notes in her book, “You are still pursuing singing right?” 

You nodded, smiling at the thought of your recently ended tour. Traveling the world was very exciting, and you loved experiencing different cultures along the way. The only wish you had was that Jenna would have been beside you; But like always, she put work first.

“So think about this. You have a job that takes you around the world, causes you to miss out on certain things but be included in newer things like events and shows?” 

You nodded again, confirming the description of your work.

“And Jenna’s job consists of…exactly the same thing.” 

You let out a shaky breath, turning to look at the ground sadly. It was true, you both had time consuming jobs that dragged you about the globe and took your time away from family and friends.

Yet somehow, you always made sure to have time. You would always tell your manager that family was first, and no matter what you would squeeze them into your schedule just so you could see them and feel at home while traveling or working. 

Jenna’s job was similar in the aspect of yours, minus the singing and dancing, but she never seemed to be able to make any time for you. You would always plan your off days to be on her off days from filming so you could maybe go get lunch or just enjoy each other's presence, but Jenna would always have the excuse of “I’m to tired” or “I already have plans with Percy.” 

Percy. The name was distasteful to you. As much as you appreciated his skill of acting and his wonderful personality, you still didn’t like him. He would always weasel himself in between you and Jenna, whether it be during her relaxing days or at award shows, he always pushed you out and brought her in. 

“I have an idea; you may or may not like it.” Your therapist stated, setting her notebook down, “You need to pull her aside, no matter what plans she has, and talk to her.”

Your eyes widened and your nerves proceeded to spike. Pull her aside? You were not a confrontational person, and you were most likely to avoid conflicts if you were given the chance; hence why your relationship is crumbling.

“What do I say to her?” You fought back, taking a sip of water, “I have no idea how to confront her. ‘Hey Jenna! I feel forgotten and like you don’t care anymore!’” 

A small sob escaped your mouth, your head falling into your hands. God, you missed her. You missed being able to hold her, to laugh about stupid soccer plays, to enjoy sunsets together on her balcony. You never knew how much of an impact she had on you until you started going to therapy.

“Don’t get emotional about it, just politely but firmly ask.”

You sniffled, raising a hand as an acknowledgment before getting up to leave the room. As much as you wanted to stay, you knew that if you were going to confront her you would need to do it now.

Pulling out your phone, you opened your text message app and clicked on Jenna’s contact.

A chuckle involuntary left your mouth, your lip slipping in between your teeth afterwards.

Jenna always knew how to make you laugh, no matter how you were feeling. Diffusing a situation is one of her many skill sets; but you were not letting her get away this time.

“I’ll be home in 5.” You texted before shoving your phone into your pocket and heading outside to your driver.

The ride seemed long, and even though it was a 15 minute drive to your place, you still felt the small confident monster roaring inside of you. All its pleas and cries were telling you to be bigger and let your emotions out onto Jenna; but you knew you couldn’t. You would scare her, anger her, or even just annoy her that she could possibly leave you on the spot; you couldn’t let that happen.

“Miss? We are here.” Your driver said, looking at you in the rearview mirror.

“Oh, thank you.” You replied before hurrying out of the car.

As you walked to the front door, passing Jenna’s black Audi along the way, your anxiety started to overtake you and your thoughts.

What if you say something wrong and she leaves? What if you are just overreacting and this is all some stupid act you’re pulling? What if she decides that you aren’t enough for her and she confesses about Percy?

A wooden blockade hit you in the face and you realized that you walked full force into the front door.

“Ow.” You mumbled before pushing your key into the slot and walking into your luxurious living room.

A mansion was one of the very gracious things you received from being such a popular face in the music industry. Money was an easy-coming item, and spending it was just the same, so why hold it all in your bank account when you could just show up and show out with your 102,000 square foot palace.

“Y/N?” Your name was called out softly, startling you from your place by the shoe nook.

You turned your head to the left to see her, in her ever standing glory. She looked slightly confused but all together relaxed, and was clearly dressed to be heading out for a fun night.

”Hi…” You said, completely unmoving as you stared at her.

“Hi…you wanted to talk?” Jenna asked, fidgeting with her phone.

“Oh, yeah. Here.” You gestured to the kitchen island, leading to sit on a stool.

She sat opposite from you, leaned against the cool countertop as she seemed to study your body language.

“So…” You trailed off, your confidence from before completely burned out.

Jenna raised an eyebrow at you, but turned to her phone when a notification went off. She clicked it, smiled, and started giggling as she replied to whoever messaged her.

That whole interaction set you off, especially since you saw who the person was; Percy.

“Jenna put your phone down, please.” You said sternly, staring at your hands.

She looked at you with a confused expression but slowly put her phone down, retracting her hand so it sat in her lap.

“We…are not okay.” You started, playing with a ring on your finger.

Jenna watched you patiently, listening intently to your words.

“I don’t know if it’s just me, but I feel like we aren’t what we used to be.”

Silence from her end.

“Many times I feel like you don’t seem to care about me.” You said, the ring on your finger was now very interesting, “I go out of my way to reschedule so my off days line up with yours, but we don’t even spend any of that time together.”

More silence.

“I feel under appreciated and alone. Anytime we have free days together, you either say you are too tired to do anything or you already have plans with your friends.”

You inhale, breathing shakily and meekly.

“Am I not enough for you?” You asked, your tear clouded eyes finally looking up at Jenna.

She looked, shocked. Her mouth was hanging open while her eyebrows furrowed in confused and disbelief. She stared at you, her eyes glossing over with her own tears and her shoulders slumping sadly.

“Y/N…what?” Jenna mumbled, clearly lost for words.

You searched her face for any sign of anger or annoyance; there was none. Surprisingly, she seemed to be softening and relaxing.

“You, are more than enough for me.” She said, reaching for your hand, “Hell I don’t even deserve you.”

The weight of all your worries instantly lifted when she spoke those words, which caused an avalanche of emotions to hit you.

“Aw honey.” Jenna cooed, pulling you into her chest when you started crying profusely.

She stroked your hair, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead. Her fingers began to scratch your scalp as she coaxed you to relax.

“I love you, god I really do.” She held you close, rubbing your shoulders, “I’ll never take you for granted.”

You sniffled, leaning yourself into her as she fed you comforting words. Your stress and anxiety seemed to melt away as she held you.

“I’m sorry if I pushed you away, I didn’t mean to do it on purpose.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at her.

“Then why did you?” You asked softly.

Jenna smiled sadly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

“Filming has been…stressful. Tim and the rest of the crew has been antsy, and my cast mates have been no help in being calm and collected.” She said, caressing your face with the pad of her thumb, “I’ll be honest, Percy and the gang have been partying to much, and HE is quite the touchy type.”

You frowned, jealousy building up in the bottom of your stomach at the thought of Percy getting to close with your girlfriend. Jenna chuckled at you, pressing a quick kiss to your lips to diminish the pout that formed on your face.

“Don’t do that, a frown doesn’t look good on you.” She said, rubbing her nose against yours as you laughed.

“Mmm, I love you.” Jenna murmured as she gazed into your eyes.

“And I love you.”

————————

tag list: @i984 @fall-08 @tundra1029 @simp4thena @king-scarlet @dreifhraniquo29 @efectoangel @annalestern @alexkolax @k1mba @i-love-u15 (comment below to join the tag list!)

i do not give anyone permission to repost or copy my work onto any platform

[spiralsublime]

G13 with an innocent reader? Or maybe a reader who seems innocent but who won’t fall for his presumably manipulative behavior AT ALL.

(ps I’m really happy you’re doing dimension 20 x reader you made my day!)

(of course this is so fun for me, i'm glad that other people seem excited for it lol, i could probably do this for so many of their seasons lol)

but i love the idea of G13 and someone who matches him in not being played by his dumb shit! look, this lanky, greasy tech nerd is terrifying conceptually to these government organizations and these big realms of space. but to a normie who is not involved in the underground and has a basic job?? oh, this is just a dweeb, who is handy with fixing things.

The Beginning

G13 is so invested in the underground that I think he forgets that he is actually a person existing. So he is just locked into his laptop, headphones on, typing away. People are assholes, he is an asshole, this is how the world works.

I think he would have an immediate issue with people he thinks are attractive, assuming that everyone thinks they are attractive and thus they must be assholes who get everything for free.

But obviously, that's not fair. I think kindness would be the beginning and end of it.

Imagining those goofy animatic of you smiling and his glasses fogging over as he blushes.

G13 solves some (painfully basic to him) tech issue for you and after he deep dives on how sweet you are.

The Not So Good Middle

Look, this motherfucker is a hacker bad guy who owes nothing to no one. He jumps through tech hoops to learn your schedule and more information about you to try and make sure to set up a good meeting situation.

I do think you notice, but it is normal to see people around the city. Likely a joke or two about a small world or maybe you thank your lucky stars that a tech wiz happens to be around because your dog shit tech is always breaking.

He is focused on trying to just be in your presence. Maybe he is talking around trying to basically take you on a date without ever asking.

I think the first show that his manipulation bits won't work, will be in this moment where you call him out. ("You know, you could just ask me out instead of trying to make me ask you or hoping we cross paths.")

Boundaries Made By Flat Acknowledgements

Look G13 is used to talking in code and dancing around realities. This is not how normal people expect to have to interact. I think he isn't used to hearing simply "No".

Just him pushing for you to hang out alone with him more instead of previously made plans. "Aw, baby, thank you for wanting to hang out with me, but let's do that tomorrow." A kiss to the forehead and the man is SPUTTERING.

He tries to be shitty and you grab your bag and stand. "Sorry, it looks like you are pissed with work and taking it out on me. I'll let you cool down."

Just deftly keeping your own space and boundaries. But also you are expicit with helping to find his own boundaries to make sure you are doing right by him and it is INSANE for him.

Miscellaneous HCs

His other hacker friends do Not believe that you are real. For sure they think that G13 made you up.

G13 may understand tech to an insane degree but this man is helpless at basic games. He does not understand how to do crosswords or solitaire and he gets pissed when he tries.

The first time you kiss him he literally panicked and dropped his glasses with how fast he moved back. He then fumbled when you apologized for scaring him. (The second kiss was better.)

He does know how to cook the bare minimum, but only in his own kitchen because he modded all his appliances. (Your microwave was never the same after the first time he slept over.)

Even after dating for years, he blushes when you kiss his cheek in public. He is overly smug about holding your hand in public.

He does bitch about you not having enough security measures in place.

He is always super cold (this man is anemic, I just know it) so he is always shoving his cold ass hands under you to warm up. Big cuddler unless he is focused on a job.

Only you are able to coax him from work so he can remember to eat during projects.

I think I'll pause here, but GOD, I have so much more with more specific things. -- see my other x-reader things

[stuckasmain]

Dave’s old life is cast aside and he is reborn (semi-literally) as a star child. It is an ending that has left many baffled, including me, but is ultimately a touching end and beginning.

Dave ends the story an evolved being, yet not so far detached from his human origin. He still has a great deal of emotion and curiosity - he becomes a baby because he simply is one when it comes to understanding the universe. He could go anywhere, do anything and yet he goes to earth. He goes and watches over it like a shiny toy, while his physical ties have been severed he’s still attached to it- almost like a mother, if we stay with the baby metaphor.

Eventually he will move on from it but for now he is a protector of sorts. The guardian of earth. He stops the bomb not for his own sake but because he simply wants humanity to continue on- he stops a potential doomsday!

It’s too bad this is completely uprooted in the following bits of the series. He is “beyond” emotion, he is on Europa. I would be fine if the evolution or planet was focused on even remotely besides the same few paragraphs, he’s transformed and cast aside. All of the prior meaning is rebuked, all of his humanity removed. See it wasn’t the transformation that did it but the story itself— as it decided to pivot and couldn’t just have him watching. He must be a blank slate. He must be elsewhere- he can’t even enjoy watching the other planet or if he does we don’t really hear of it.

Dave becomes more of a plot device than a person, as a star child there’s so many facinating things you could do with him. For one thing a dressing the trauma that came from that and before, and — again either guardian of earth - self chosen- or we actually see his involvement elsewhere. He becomes a just as much of a tool as the monolith.

Not only is his humanity stripped but his agency, in 2010 he describes himself as a dog on a leash a good number of times. While I absolutely adore that metaphor, it’s so tragic and not even acknowledged as such?! (Again so much could be considered cosmic horror and it’s either had waved or blankly accepted) he went from a near omnipotent being to LOSING LARGE CHUNKS OF TIME AND BEING USED AS A PROBE. He’s suddenly beyond humanity when he was so attached before; he becomes apathetic incredibly fast. (Which, as a immortal being is understandable but it’s absolutely unearned and not in character) -> my issue isn’t with him becoming a tool of some higher power it’s that it’s sort of hand waved “it is how it is” and not addressed how messed up and interesting it is.

Now I’ve yet to read 3001 but my point here broadly stands. I fully believe it should’ve ended after 2010, as it comes across as very very clear it was a two book story and 2061 is a whole separate one with some characters tossed into it.

Arcs were over. There was a bit more explanation as to what happened in the first one; we got closure alongside Heywood. Things were set up for the future but it was more in a way for you to view them as fully developed not exactly a sequel. (Like the Hal 10,000 idea). It’s frustrating because Dave as a Starchild can lead to so many interesting things and it was a beautiful idea in 2001 but … after that it mistreats and mischarectetizes Him so fast in a way that frustrates me to no end. Maybe if there was an actual focus or exploration I could understand the direction but making him a cut out god figure is such a sad end.

A child of the stars still clinging to its former life, its humanity…

Oh what could have been. I’d like to imagine Dave would’ve never completely… not been Dave, yes over centuries he may subdue emotions, his interest may waver but what we get is a name and maybe some memory.

—

Clarification:

I fully enjoy 2010, my issues with Dave in that are minimal just that it’s a little sad he swaps guardianship but I can understand. I was excited and interested in Europa… only for that too also get sort of ignored.

There’s also some interesting points to come out of 2061 - how the monolith works, conversing with Hal and he does seem to have a genuine interest in study but it’s also where he’s sort of a name drop and little else

It’s the stripping him of his emotion and character that really gets me - as it’s a route that isn’t earned as Clark absolutely does not write about trauma or if he does it’s a off handed “ok so everyone dying and the monolith was a little scary but now I’m blue and don’t care” it’s even true for human characters idk

I pick and choose what I want to keep from the further books honestly, we’ll see if 3001 fixes this or if this rant grows longer. I’m just sad, Dave’s such a fascinating character and he’s so mistreated?

[the-bar-sinister]

A few days ago an anon shared with me their excitement that Phoenix Wright "canonically" has a damsel in distress fantasy. My take was that that was great stuff, but I wasn't going to take it as canon until I saw the segment that they were talking about.

Today someone mentioned the part they thought that anon was talking about and I looked it up in the transcripts!

Well, I wouldn't say its "canon" per se– but there's definitely some subtext that you can glean from it!

Not only is Phoenix acknowledging that he finds the idea of being rescued personally romantic (and that he might be inclined to fall in love with his rescuer) he's also acknowledging the possibility that it's likely that a kidnapped Maya would fall in love with her rescuer.

And this is great stuff because you know.

Maya gets kidnapped and Phoenix rescues her.

Thus, the subtext here can be read both that Phoenix Wright has a personal rescue fantasy, and as acknowledgement that it's likely Maya would have a crush on Phoenix– a fact which crosses Phoenix's mind!

-

Desirée: Yes, they took me hostage. I was so frightened. They were both carrying these huge knives and... I-I broke down into tears.

Phoenix: (Yeah... I would too, if I were in that situation.)

Maya: Oh! I think I get it! Did Mr. DeLite come running to save you?

Desirée: Yes! Exactly! I remember he looked so handsome in that guard uniform of his! He went right up to those two knife-wielding robbers... and screamed in their faces! "PLEASE, STOP IIIIIIIIIIT!" he screamed. I could see the robbers' faces turn pale...

Phoenix: (That high-pitched shriek of his does have a surprisingly strong effect on people...)

Desirée: Then, crying and swinging his arms like crazy, he attacked the two robbers. All by himself... He came to save me, a total stranger, all by himself... He was so scared that he was crying and shaking, but he still risked his life for me.

Maya: ...Wow. That's a great story...

Desirée: Yes. He may not look it, but in a tough situation, there's no one better... ...That's why I fell in love with him like I did. 

Phoenix: *sniff sniff* Th-That's so romantic... I'd fall in love too, I guess.

Maya: Nick, I hope you'll do the same for me if I ever get taken hostage...

Phoenix: (With Maya, that possibility always seems to loom in the not so distant future. *gulp*)

https://aceattorney.fandom.com/wiki/The_Stolen_Turnabout_-_Transcript_-_Part_3

[feeblescholarmyass]

Prologue

cw: panic attack/extreme anxiety, I swear that y/n isn't this nervous all the time, originally written in 3rd person so there may be some wrong pronouns (she/her for placeholder character)

Sumeru boys x GN!reader (together because y/n is a poly bad bitch)

Hello

"Hi, I'm Y/n! I'm a first year Amurta student in the Akademiya. Hold on, I think someone is calling for me. Coming, Tighnari!"

"I'm not sure this is the best idea anymore. Maybe I should have joined Rhawatist with you instead. What if I don't know anyone? I'm gonna fail." You tugged at a strand of hair that had fallen out of place.

"Don't be silly, Y/n. You belong in Amurta. As much as I'd love for you to be in my classes, I know you'll do better there." Layla smiled reassuringly at you and squeezed your hand tight.

"Okay. If you're sure." You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. "We got this."

The sound of Layla's stomach growling interrupted your gathering of confidence. Layla blushed and you crossed your arms over her chest.

"Layla, what was that?"

"Uh, I may have been so excited that I forgot to eat breakfast this morning... Don't be mad!" Layla whimpered, blinking sadly.

You sighed and shook your head. "It's fine. We can go get breakfast. Thank goodness we share a dorm. Otherwise, I don't think you'd ever have a somewhat proper schedule."

"Yes, Y/n. Sorry, Y/n." Layla giggled, pulling you over to a nearby cafe. The pair sat by a window and ordered their breakfast, both too tired to have much of a conversation.

The sound of voices arguing caught their attention.

"Are you an idiot? No, I'm not getting you coffee. You should have slept last night if you wanted to be less tired."

"Oh, then what's your excuse? You just like the taste?"

"No. I acknowledge my own issues with caffeine. I may have a small addiction. But I, unlike someone, can afford to buy it."

"Ugh! You're so infuriating!"

Layla slouched deeper into the cushion of her seat, using her hood to hide her face. You raised an eyebrow at her, asking Layla for answers silently.

"Don't worry about it. They're some upperclassmen. Alhaitham and Kaveh. They're pretty well known, both for their intellect and attitude."

"Oh. Makes sense. They're already so loud." You shrugged, grabbing your smoothie from the waitress and taking a sip.

"Take a seat, you two." A grouchy sounding voice joined in. You glanced up, searching for its owner. Long, silver hair and crimson eyes captivated your attention.

Your fingers itched for your pencils, hidden deep in your bag. He was so pretty. "And who's he?"

"Oh, that's Cyno. I don't know much about him. He's their friend, I think."

"Hm..." You rested your cheek on your palm, watching the group of boys. "And who's that?"

"Tighnari. He's the more mild one in the group, as far as I've heard. I think he's from the same darshan as you." Layla yawned. Her head nodded once, twice, then once more before quiet snores overtook anything else she had to say.

You sighed, moving Layla's food out of the way so she didn't land in it, then helped her lay her head on the table in a somewhat comfortable position so she didn't wake up aching.

"Maybe that will be my first project. I'll make a sleep aid for Layla that she can actually afford. If she agrees to be a test subject, I bet I could give it to her for free in the name of research." You muttered to yourself while twirling your straw around in your smoothie.

When Layla finally woke up, the two of you finished breakfast and hurried to the Akademiya. You now stood in front of the huge main doors, surrounded by fellow students. Layla pulled you to the side, knowing that you both needed some space.

"Okay, you're going to do great Y/n. I'll see you at lunch, yeah?" Layla smiled reassuringly, only slightly less tired than earlier.

"Mhm. Lunch," You muttered distractedly. Your hands were shaking and you felt a little like you might throw up. The thought of lunch made it worse. You were lucky that you had gotten that smoothie down earlier. If you tried eating now, your really would puke.

"Go make some friends in Amurta. You're good at that. You're gonna be the most adorable first year there, you hear me? You're cute, you're confident. The stars never lie." Layla squeezed your hands twice, not letting go first.

You squeezed back and took a deep breath. "Same with you. You'd better make some friends who can keep you awake during class, or at least let you borrow notes."

"We got this," Layla grinned. You grinned back. You let go of each other's hands and began on separate paths to your darshans.

You kept your eyes on the ground, your peripheral vision going just far enough that she could avoid running into others. You knew that if you looked up and saw the vaulted ceiling and crowd of people, the tears you had already fought down would return.

You knew all of this, but you looked up anyway.

"Archons, I can't do this," you whispered, panic overwhelming you. You looked for an exit, anything that would get you out. A familiar face or a room that had a lot less people.

You found a door to a copy room and snuck in, closing the door behind you. You covered your mouth and bit your lip, trying to force the tears to go away.

It didn't work.

You grabbed the chiffon scarf you had worn specifically to distract yourself, tugged it closer around your shoulders and crouched in the corner.

Amidst your panic, you hadn't noticed that the copy room wasn't empty. An older boy watched you silently, shock keeping him quiet.

After some time, you senses started to slowly return to normal. That was when you noticed someone standing in front of you. You breath caught in your throat and you slowly looked up.

The boy with pretty hair and cute animal ears looked at you with wide eyes.

"Are you okay?"