#but he also thought my eyebrow piercing was stupid

[ghastbutlikegay]

the funny thing about being an older sibling is watching as the younger siblings slowly realize what a loser i am

[chuluoyi]

✎ stupid liar

- gojo satoru x reader

no way. impossible. you couldn't possibly be jealous of gravure idol gojo likes so much now... or could you?

genre: jealous!reader vs slightly jealous!gojo, crack, and obviously, fluff !!

note: based on this post :))

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

"Look, Suguru~ Isn't she pretty?"

Your eye twitched at the sing-song voice, lips twisting into a scowl as you glanced at him from the corner of your twitching eye.

No. You don't care. Not in the slightest.

You stabbed your fork into your cheesecake with more fervor than necessary though.

"Eh?"

"Inoue Waka!" Satoru exclaimed with an enthusiasm that felt almost too bright. "This is her in her newest issue!"

‘Newest issue’ being a bikini special, with the said model lay sprawled in the most revealing piece possible. That indecent photo had also become the wallpaper and lockscreen on your boyfriend's phone, and he shamelessly showed it off with pride.

You steeled yourself. Again. No. It's not a big deal. You weren't jealous, especially not over some... heavily-altered picture of a porn actress!

"Ahh, she does look nice..."

You attacked your now-mutilated cheesecake again, feeling your mood plummet further after hearing Suguru's response. Now you were convinced, all men are dogs!

"—but not exactly my type," he added quickly, his gaze darting towards you. His interest lay more in your reaction, which was why he stirred the pot further: "Is she your type, Satoru?"

Your boyfriend, whether oblivious or intentional, erupted into giddy laughter like a kid. "Ehh... why of course!"

His enthusiastic agreement seemed to echo louder in your ears than it probably should have. The cheesecake, once a treat, now felt like lead in your mouth.

That's it. One more time and—

But then, Suguru's voice cut through your irritated thoughts again, clearly amused. "Well, but I've always thought real beauty lies not just in appearances but in strength of character. Wouldn't you agree, Satoru?"

You knew it, Suguru was indeed the best. You dared to glance up from your plate, curious about your cocky little clown’s response. But you really shouldn't, because Satoru, the absolute cretin he was—

"Why are you getting philosophical all of sudden?" he sullenly grumbled. "Important thing is if she's hot, then she is hot." You could have sworn he briefly side-eyed you before saying, "And no one is hotter than Inoue Waka."

Stupid. Idiot. Insufferable.

Standing up, your patience dissipated into thin air. Your brisk pace made Shoko, who was beside Suguru, to quirk an eyebrow. "Oh, leaving already?"

"I'm going back. Have a practice."

"Ehh? You didn't say?" only now did your shameless boyfriend turned to you fully. "It's still break time—"

"Nanami is waiting for me, goodbye."

You didn't look back even once, too annoyed to notice that Satoru was gawking at your words.

Satoru couldn't believe this. You ignored him. You actually did… in favor of Nanami!

He was starring daggers at how the two of you conversing so amiably across the hall. You were his girlfriend already, but he could barely able to make you look as sweet as you were with Nanami just now. You were always prickly with him!

Okay, but rest assured—with Suguru he may have doubts, but with Nanami, he was convinced he outshone him by a wide margin, perhaps even ten or twenty times over!

"Why are you sparring with him?" he was sulking when he caught you on the way back to the dorms after school. "Why not Haibara instead?"

You scoffed. "And why do you idolize Inoue Waka and not Yuzuki Tina?"

Oh, so that's what this is about. Suddenly, he didn't feel as miffed as a stupid grin split his face. "Ooh, you're looking into gravure idols too?"

"..."

"Heh, if you're doing it for research purpose, that's totally okay~"

"..."

"Pfft, you're so jealous it's so great to watch—"

You halted abruptly, your annoyance now at its peak. Facing your infuriating boyfriend, you leveled a piercing glare at him that caught him off-guard. "Gojo, from today onwards, we're having a ban."

"Whoa, hey—"

"—and in the meantime, you can print Inoue Waka out of your phone, hang her in your dorm and kiss your wall instead—"

"Just a minute!" Satoru interjected, eyes rounded with slight alarm. "Don't be too hasty!"

He looked at you, really looked at you, and saw that you were actually upset.

A twinge of... what is it? Some kind of guilt, he supposed, pricked his chest. He didn't like seeing you like this, especially knowing he had played a part in it. You should be smiling sweetly and catching his heart with it, not frowning like this.

"Hey," he started, his voice softening as a small, sincere smile crept onto his face. You continued to look away, a stubborn pout fixed on your lips. Darn it, how did you manage to look cute while angry too?

"Look at me, I'm all yours, okay?"

That got you to shoot him a sharp glance, and boohoo!—the ice in your heart thawed slightly as you met his smile, which soon evolved into a toothy grin.

But then, in one swift strike, he pulled his phone out and took a snap of your very-not-ready face.

"Satoru!" you screamed in panic, trying to climb over him to pluck his phone. "No! Delete that!"

"Ah ah," he crisply snickers, raising his hand with the phone high above where you couldn't reach. After pressing a few buttons, he triumphantly showed you his phone screen, now displaying your flop picture in all of its glory.

"That's seriously awful!" you grimaced, a look of horror in your face. "Satoru, for real—"

“You’re adorable,” he countered almost immediately, his smile wide and unabashed—the very winning smile that won your heart. “My girl is cute as heck and you know what the best part is? She’s mine.”

. . .

—okay, you were now positively melting. This was irritating, how can you forgive him this easily?

You huffed, raising your chin high to cover the very sizzling heat in your cheeks. "Hmph. Keep that photo then. But I'm still sparring with Nanami though."

"Mm-hmm, whatever. I hope his foul hairstyle won't affect you—"

"Don't badmouth him! Wait, don't tell me... you feel threatened by him?"

"Wha? Why would I!? I have the better face, better wallet—!"

Together, you walked back to the dorms, the evening air somehow felt lighter around you. Satoru's hand found yours along the way, and the two of you kept up a playful banter, followed by shared giggles afterwards.

. . .

What you didn't realize, however, was that there was another reason behind Satoru's happy laughter... his secret little mission had been a smashing success~

Epilogue

“I put too much faith in Y/N. I’m disappointed.”

“We are paying Gojo, damn it.”

Suguru and Shoko let out collective sighs, looking at the two of you. They witnessed your little outburst and that sealed everything.

You used to not give in to so easily. Unfortunately now, you were whipped for that idiot too, enough to get jealous over him.

As Suguru opened his wallet, a realization struck. “Shoko, now that I think about it… why am I always losing these bets?”

“You could just suck… or maybe," she glances him over before letting out a snort. "Your bangs just bring bad luck?”

[breadbrobin]

lavender roses

luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of persephone reader]

summary: everyone thinks red roses are synonymous with the perfect love. you believe that lavender roses deserve more love, and luke believes that you’re worthy of all the love in the world—you’re both just bad at communicating it.

warnings: kissing, swearing, suggestive content, mentions of weapons, idiots, miscommunication trope but it’s cute dw, seriously they’re both so stupid and oblivious, besties to idiots to lovers

word count: 3.3k

(y’all i’m losing my mind i can’t stop writing but this might be one of my favourites ever)

(also i might put together a luke taglist and a clarisse taglist so lmk if you wanna be put on either of those and i’ll get to work on it 🤩)

———————————————

“i’m free february fourteenth,” you said nonchalantly.

you were sitting with luke at dinner and he’d just asked you if you ever had a day off working. as a daughter of persephone, you lived in the hermes cabin, but spent most of your time working in the strawberry fields. you spent every free moment there, soaking in the sun, helping the plants grow and picking flowers to put in vases around the cabin and infirmary.

he nodded as chris choked on his food beside him, coughing hard. “okay, we should hang out then.”

you weren’t sure if he knew what was going on. was he messing with you? playing a joke? really wanting to hang out with you on valentine’s day? or was he having a lapse of memory and he forgot that day had any significance at all?

either way, you nodded. when you spoke, your voice was slightly higher pitched than usual. “sure.”

“we can have a picnic. we haven’t done that in a while.” he was nodding still, looking into his food with a thoughtful expression.

the air nearly left your lungs. you nodded back, though he wasn’t looking at you, and exchanged a wide-eyed look with chris across the table. sure, you and luke used to go for picnics occasionally, but that was before he’d gotten unfairly attractive overnight and you’d developed the most annoying crush on him. “yeah, sure. it’s a date.”

if you could have jumped into tartarus you would have.

what the fuck. why would you say that?

chris was staring at you in shock.

your mouth was dry.

and luke was smiling like nothing was wrong. were his cheeks red? or was that your imagination? “yup! it’s a date.”

when he got up from the table to leave after dinner, he kissed your cheek. this wasn’t too far out of the ordinary, per se—it happened occasionally—but it sent a rush of adrenaline shooting down your spine and set your cheeks aflame.

chris’ eyebrows were raised. “what was that?”

“i have no idea,” you breathed.

“do you think he knows?”

your voice was even softer as you shook your head. “dude. i have no idea.”

valentine’s day couldn’t come soon enough.

you could hardly think of anything else. zoning out in the fields, losing focus while sparring, getting distracted by luke’s shoulder muscles while he was drawing back his bow, sending your arrow flying off to the side.

he laughed at you with everyone else, coming over to stand by your side. “you good there? need any help?”

you shook your head, your quaking fingers drawing the string back once more, pulling it taut. archery wasn’t your best skill, but you weren’t terrible at it.

you could feel his eyes on you, judging your form, analysing your aim. it put you off.

your arrow barely hit the target.

luke winced. “that was… better.”

you sighed and lowered the bow. “you’re distracting me!”

he laughed. “i’m distracting you?”

“yes!” you huffed, frowning at him. his eyes were lit up with amusement. “you are.”

“well, then i’m very sorry.” he raised his hands and took a step back, dipping his head too. “as you were, milady.”

you rolled your eyes with a smile and drew your arrow back, aiming and firing, but it still didn’t do well. in fact, every arrow that you shot pierced outside of the black rings. you were starting to think there was either something wrong with the bow or that you’d been cursed by one of the apollo kids, when someone’s hand lowered your elbow.

you looked over to see luke. he wasn’t watching your face. he was guiding your elbow down so it was more level with your arrow’s line and gently pulling your shoulders back so they were more even.

“pull back a bit more,” he coached quietly.

“i know what i’m doing,” you protested.

“i know, but today you look like you need a reminder. do you want my help? or do you wanna keep missing?” he finally looked you in the eye. he was sincere, you realised.

you sighed and draw the arrow back a little more.

he nodded happily and continued guiding your stance until you were perfect, his hands hot on your body and his breath on the back of your neck. he stayed behind you as you lowered the arrow and took a few deep breaths.

you were still watching him over your shoulder. his lips quirked as he reached out and gently turned your face away to look at the target. his hand was calloused and rough, but the tough was soft. you could barely breathe.

“focus,” he said softly. “eyes on the prize.”

you’re the only prize i want, was all you could think, but you didn’t say anything. you drew the arrow back, your fingers brushing against the corner of your lips. you felt better—more powerful, more confident—in this stance. and maybe luke’s presence behind you was helping with that too. you could feel the slight ghost of his hand on your waist. it kept you grounded. it stopped you from floating away.

your arrow pierced just beside the bullseye.

luke’s hand tightened on your waist, squeezing proudly. “that’s my girl.”

your heart fluttered as you smiled. “thanks, luke.”

he patted your lower back as he stepped away. “that’s what i’m here for. go kill it.”

then he was gone, and there was a fiery pit in your stomach that grew with each passing day that told you that—oh shit—you were in fully love with luke castellan.

february fourteenth arrived in a flurry of pinks, reds and whites. hearts adorned the camp, courtesy of the aphrodite cabin, and you and the demeter cabin had been tasked with growing what felt like hundreds of red roses. personally, you didn’t understand the hype surrounding red roses. after all, the lavender ones were the prettiest. they even meant love at first sight—far better than plain old love.

but with all the love in the air and the aphrodite campers swooning left and right, luke was sure to figure out his mistake and call off the picnic. it made you feel sick with anxiety, and your hands shook as you tended to the roses.

“y/n, hey!” luke’s voice came right next to you.

you flinched and the rose bush sprouted ten feet in the air with new flowers springing into existence left and right.

“whoa…” he said, looking up at it in shock. “i don’t think we need that many.”

“i don’t think anyone needs that many.” you muttered and took a deep breath, bringing the bush back down to size. “what are you doing here, luke?” your heart was in your throat. he didn’t look upset, but he’d always been good at hiding his emotions. was he about to tell you that he didn’t want to meet up later? or that he hated you for tricking him? thoughts started spinning like tops in your mind as you sunk into worse scenario after worse scenario.

“i just wanted to make sure we were still on for this afternoon? and to let you know to meet me by the lake.” were you imagining things, or did he look almost… nervous? his cheeks were red and he wasn’t meeting your eyes for more than a few seconds at a time. was he? really?

you nodded. “oh, uh, yeah. we’re still on. i’ll meet you…?”

“at two?”

“at two.” you smiled. he smiled back and you ignored the flutter in your chest. a strand of hair blew in front of your face.

his hand twitched by his side, like he wanted to push it back, but he just nodded. “okay. see you later.”

“later,” you nodded as he walked away. “can’t wait!” you called after him. he shot a grin over his shoulder, and once he was gone, you buried your face in the rose bush with an exasperated groan.

at 1:45, you still didn’t know what to wear.

your friend becky had dragged you into the aphrodite cabin and was shoving various outfits into your arms to try on, since you didn’t have many nice outfits of your own, but nothing was right.

even though you were the same size as her, nothing seemed to fit you as well as it did her—some aphrodite’s daughter bullshit, you guessed.

she sat down on her bunk next to you and sighed. “i hate to say it, but… we’re out of options.”

you groaned and flopped backwards, covering your face.

she swatted your hands away. “you’ll smudge your makeup!” she then sat back and sighed. “honestly, hun, you might just have to go naked.”

“i’m sure he’d love that!” one of her brothers called from across the room.

you threw a pillow at him, but it dropped halfway there.

then becky froze with a gasp. “oh, my gods.”

you sat up. “what?”

“wait here.” she got up and dashed away, peering into the depths of her wardrobe.

you watched absently, kind of worried she’d pull out some sexy lingerie, as she felt around at the very back, in the corner. then her face lit up. she pulled out a dress. it was white and floaty, with tiny pale pink flowers on it and the most flattering neckline you’d ever seen. she held it out to you and then dragged you to the designated changing area beside her bunk.

you changed slowly, not wanting to rip the delicate material, then looked at yourself in the mirror.

holy shit.

becky stuck her head around the corner and gasped. “perfect! ugh, i feel like a proud mother.”

you laughed, smoothing the floaty fabric over your thighs. it was kind of staticky. “yeah, thanks, mom.”

she grabbed your arm and dragged you out, showing you off. “siblings! my magnum opus.”

as whistles and cheers came from the few people in the cabin, you smiled.

“he’ll love it,” becky whispered. “you look hot.”

“it’s not even a date,” you protested. “it’s just a hang out.”

“sweet cheeks, its a picnic on valentine’s day.” she tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder. “it’s a date. now go. you’re gonna be late.”

you slipped on your white sandals and the light green jacket you always wore, let silena slip a white headband into your hair, then stepped out the door.

it wasn’t a cold day, exactly, but you were grateful for the jacket.

you rushed down the lake and got there two minutes late.

luke was no where to be found.

great, you thought. he was messing with me the whole time.

just as you were considering leaving, you heard footsteps running up to you.

“y/n! i’m so sorry, i could figure out—oh, wow...” luke stopped in his tracks as you turned around. his eyes were wide and his cheeks were red as he looked you up and down. he cleared his throat. “i didn’t know what to wear.”

he’d settled on a navy blue crew neck sweater and black jeans. his hair was messy, like he’d been running his hands through it, and he looked good. really good.

shit. that would make things more difficult.

“it’s okay,” you smiled. “neither could i.”

“well, you look… you look amazing.” his voice was soft, almost reverent.

gods, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to stop blushing. this was torture. “thanks,” you said though, pretending your heart wasn’t climbing up your throat and threatening to jump right into his hands—like suicide. “should we—“

“oh! yeah.” he nodded and stepped forward, placing a hand on your back (just low enough that it made your heart stutter, but high enough that it was innocent) and leading you towards the strawberry fields. “this way, milady.”

your heart was sinking a little as the fields came into view. everyone went to the strawberry fields. there were at least seven couples there already. it was the standard date spot. you had to remind yourself this wasn’t a date.

but he led you past the fields and into the forest.

great, so he’ll just murder me instead, you thought bitterly. it was like you were searching for a reason that it wasn’t a date now. at least i won’t have to deal with the embarrassment of everyone seeing.

you snapped out of your thoughts as his hand gently slipped into yours and you nearly fell over. he looked back at you, amused. you shot him a thumbs up as he set down a familiar path.

you knew where you were going.

there was a clearing in the woods where you went. it was you own personal secret garden, hidden deep in the forest behind a thick hedge that you’d grown yourself. it had taken weeks to get it thick enough to keep your space safe, and weeks again to regain enough strength to add any other plants to it. in the last year though, you’d been going there often, coaxing a few new plants to grow. you’d learned that forcing growth was hard and near impossible, but encouraging growth was easy.

you’d shown luke the garden one day a few months ago, just before you developed that pesky crush.

he pulled you gently in front of him to enter the garden first, through a magically shifting gap in the hedge, so that he could enter too, and stepped aside to pick up a hefty bag hidden just off the path.

you stepped through the hedge, your hand still linked with luke’s, and into your garden. it was the same as last time you were there, around a week ago; filled with flowers and bees, with a patch of clear grass in the middle, linked to the hedge by four paths, running north to south and east to west. some of the flowers growing were out of season, but as a daughter of persephone, you had a certain level of influence over things like that. bees buzzed lazily around your head as you entered, happy to see you again. everything seemed to get happier, healthier and brighter the second you stepped into the garden. it was your favourite thing and your favourite place.

you looked back at luke to see him smiling at you. “you know me too well.”

“i knew you wouldn’t like to have everyone around,” he shrugged. “and i wanted to see this place again. it’s better than last time i was here.” he looked around in wonder.

“well, last time you were here, i’d just gotten over the flu, so i was still pretty weak. all of my hydrangeas wilted.” you pouted and crossed the garden to your hydrangea bush, blooming in all ranges of colours. soil acidity and pH didn’t matter if you were the daughter of persephone.

luke laid down a plaid picnic blanket as you murmured a few words to some of your weaker looking plants, breathing life back into them. you could feel his eyes on you as he sat and waited, but you didn’t feel rushed or observed. more than anything, you felt admired.

finally, you sat next to him. he’d set out some food and water bottles for the two of you. he was prepared. that was one thing about luke castellan: he was prepared, always two steps ahead. which is why this didn’t make sense.

as you started eating, you found yourself staring at a lavender rose bush. love at first sight, you mused. if only.

you’d fallen for luke after a whole year of friendship. that made it worse. you’d loved him already, platonically, then, without warning, those feeling shifted. the way you looked at him changed in a matter of moments. when he’d gotten cherries on his plate for dessert after you were told you couldn’t have more, then he’d given them all to you, claiming he didn’t like them (even though you knew he did), you fell stupidly, irrevocably, in love. but the way he looked at you never changed: always soft, always kind and always the same.

you were drawn to look at him. you always were. the sharp lines and soft curves of his face. those dark eyes that made your heart flutter never wavered as they met yours. never shifted, never darkened, never clouded with anger. never. they were as constant as time, as reliable as the tide, as predictable as the full moon coming around again.

and he was looking at you now. “what?” he asked.

you blinked and looked away, watching as two bees clumsily bumped into each other and went on their way. “nothing.” would that be you and luke? two bees bumping into each other briefly, then going on with their lives? unlikely to cross paths again? you couldn’t let that happen.

“you know it’s valentine’s, right?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

luke lowered his apple, resting his hand on his knee. his forehead was creased in a confused frown. “yeah, why?”

“well… then why… why are we hanging out today? i mean, this isn’t a date.” you paused. “is it?”

his eyes widened. “wait, you don’t think—“

“it’s fine, luke.” you shrugged, pretending your heart wasn’t crumbling. “it’s my fault. i shouldn’t have brought up valentines. it was a silly joke, and—“

“a joke?” he frowned again. “this isn’t a joke.”

you looked at him. he looked earnest. “what?”

“it’s not a joke. why would i joke about going on a date with you?” he swallowed tightly and put his apple down. “did you… did you just think it was a joke?”

“no! well, yes. but i didn’t want it to be.” you exclaimed. “did… you want it to be?”

“no!” he exclaimed, turning to face you. “why would i want that? i thought we’ve been dating for three weeks now!”

“you, what?”

he took a deep breath. “you’re telling me that i’ve been assuming we’re dating for three weeks, and you’ve been assuming i’ve been joking for three weeks, because we’re both a little bit fucking stupid and can’t communicate our feelings properly?”

you stared at him, wiping your sweaty palms on your dress. the static crackled like the tension in the air. “i guess so.”

“huh.” he said, turning back to face the flowers. he was silent for a moment and you almost thought he’d leave, but then he started laughing.

“stop laughing,” you protested, pushing him lightly, your cheeks flaming hot. “stop it.”

he didn’t.

soon, you weren’t able to stop yourself from giggling, then you were both laughing uncontrollably. your stomach hurt and you had to lean on each other to avoid falling over. your faces were close—too close. your laughter died as you felt his breath on your face. his fingers brushed your hair behind your ear. his breath hitched as he did, like he’d been waiting to do that for months.

“i’ve liked you for months,” you whispered.

“i’ve liked you since the moment we met,” he cupped your face in his hand, his other one resting on your knee.

you could see the lavender roses behind him. love at first sight.

the two bees that had bumped into each other settled on the same flower.

fucking hell.

you kissed him before you could talk yourself out of it.

the kiss wasn’t like fireworks. it was more like the first flowers of spring: fresh, exciting and pure. his lips were soft. yours were probably rougher than his from your long hours in the fields. you figured he didn’t care, because he kissed you like you were the only air he needed to breath for the rest of his life. you could feel flowers blooming around the picnic blanket—daisies and dandelions in the grass. the plants in the gardens were going wild. he was like a drug; some kind of amplifier for your powers and your heart rate and gods, you never wanted to let him go. his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer against him. your hand rose to his cheek and static electricity jumped from your skin to his.

he pulled away with a gasp, his hand on his cheek. then he laughed, and kissed you again.

and again.

and again.

and again.

and you were infinitely glad for the privacy of your own secret garden.

[lovely-peace]

Lovely?

Summary: You don't like the marauders. You don't talk and don't even look at them. But as you visit your friend in the hospital wing you encounter a certain boy with brown hair, scars and this lovely eyes.

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Gryffindor!reader

Warnings: Low self esteem, past bullying?, This is no bully! Marauders fic!!

Part 1 Part 3

"Hey, do you want to study for Transfiguration together?"

A normal day. It should have been. But ever since I was asked who I would date, I've been hearing giggles and whispers. And now James is standing in front of Amy and me. Ready to finish something. I don't know what yet, but it's going to hurt.

Because it will be a joke of theirs.

"Why should we?" I go straight on the offensive. Leave fears behind and intimidate them.

Sirius, who was standing behind James, looked to the side to stifle a laugh. That kind of upset me.

"Well, in the last lesson you had... We thought we could help each other."

Oh. My mistake. That they laughed about. Learning. Together. Actually, they just want to smile at my stupidity. SMILE.

"Amy doesn't even have Transfiguration." I hissed, looking the boy in front of me in the eye for the first time. He looked almost uncomfortable.

This boy I rode to Hogwarts with in the same wagon. And who now feels too cool to remember my name. I'm just a joke that you crack a few times and then forget.

"Which is why, unfortunately, I have to say goodbye and go upstairs. Important subjects are waiting for me!" Amy tapped my shoulder and I was about to thank her inwardly until- "That's why I'm leaving this sweetie here with you, okay?"

Peter looked up from his book for the first time. He was sitting on the couch by the fire.

In the common room of Gryffindor, it was not uncommon for people to fight over this space. Peter snatched it early enough so that Remus, who looked very ill that morning, just sat on the chair at the table next to it.

Peter was probably just as disappointed that Amy left as I was, if I interpreted his expression correctly.

"Amy," I whispered to her, "what are you doing?"

She raised her eyebrows, rolled her eyes and sighed briefly. And I understood. She wanted me to give them a chance.

I looked at her with begging eyes and screamed at her in my mind not to leave me here alone.

"So...?" James stood there like a boy waiting for his mother's permission.

And I wasn't going to give it to him.

"Sorry, Jarry, but I was planning on studying for other subjects with Amy today. So if you'll excuse us." What did I just say?

"Oo-," James looked to his friends while Sirius laughed out loud, "-okay?"

I didn't look at Amy and just stomped faree upstairs to our room.

Amy followed me, but not without letting out a sigh of disappointment.

~~

"What was that about?" My voice was a little louder than usual. "I thought we agreed that we didn't like the four of them?"

Amy groaned and threw herself on her bed. "I never said that. I meant that they can be assholes sometimes, that's all."

"But they just were assholes?"

I also sat down on my bed and looked out of the window. The Hufflepuff team was playing quidditch.

"How were they assholes in any way, please? James just asked us if we wanted to study with them in the common room."

I could hear Amy starting to get angry.

"You know what he meant. He only asked because I said something completely stupid in Transfiguration the day before yesterday and everyone had a laugh. And now he wanted to hear more of it."

Amy had gone quiet. Then she snorted loudly. "Jesus Christ."

"What?!" As I turned around, two piercing eyes looked into me.

"Can you please stop painting the devil on the wall for once? You sound worse than Cassandra!"

Now I snorted.

But Amy wasn't finished yet. "You're so afraid of being ridiculed that you're becoming an asshole yourself!"

The sun was setting. And the moon slowly rose.

"Why are you so sure that the four of them are making fun of you?"

I hated that tears were welling up in my eyes. "That's how it always is! Suddenly all these people are nice to you, who didn't even know who you were before, to lure you into safety, but in reality they're blaspheming and laughing at you. It's always like that!"

Amy shook her head.

"No, it's just always like that in your head. There's a chance that these people just want to get to know you better."

Amy took her DADA textbook and turned to the other wall. "To exclude this opportunity from the outset is not only a mistake, but also a missed opportunity to make new friends."

I looked up at the full moon. I felt as if he was out there suffering with me.

You understand me, don't you?

Probably not.

~~

The next morning, Amy was still mad at me. I couldn't blame her. What I said already sounded pathetic.

But so far it had always been the truth.

It was unusually quiet at breakfast. Amy ate almost nothing and hurried to her tray.

We had different subjects at the beginning of the day, but at lunch Amy was nowhere to be seen. There were whispers again and I wanted to scream.

And it was only in charms that I was told she had been taken to the hospital wing. 

That was not uncommon for Amy. Amy was very fragile. Amy always put on a very strong front, also to help me. But the truth was that stress really affected her and at one point she almost fell over sick.

Was it because of our argument? I don't know. But I certainly felt guilty.

~~

After class, I hurried to the hospital wing and let myself be led to her bed.

She looked almost peaceful as she slept. I carefully sat down next to her and took her hand. She was sweaty and cool at the same time.

Madam Pomfrey explained to me that Amy had been under a lot of stress lately and had eaten something bad. Then she went to the next bed and talked with the visitors there.

Visitors with... familiar voices?!

"Oh, please, you can't expect us to just leave him here alone?" Was that Sirius?

"Yes, I must. You know he needs his rest now. So shoo." Madam Pomfrey sounded a bit annoyed.

"We can stay here quietly!" That was James. Ironically loud.

"No, Mr. Potter, you cannot. So, gentlemen. Out!"

I saw out of the corner of my eye how Madam Pomfrey shooed several people outside. But who was behind the curtain of the bed? Whom were they visiting?

The curtain didn't cover the whole bed. In fact, it was only drawn on my side. Quietly, I got up and tried to get a quick look at the person. I took a cautious step to the side and—

There layed Remus. A pretty battered Remus, wrapped in bandages.

Suddenly, the curtain was pulled back and I stood there as if caught red-handed.

Remus looked at me in surprise. His look was somehow different than usual and I imagined he took a deep breath before he spoke.

"Hi." ... "Hi."

His body was even worse wrapped up than I had seen from the side. He was sitting upright and his upper body was full of bandages. His face also had scratches but his eyes were still so deep-

I stared at him. For far too long.

I quickly sat down next to Amy, who was still asleep.

Remus cleared his throat. "Is Amy very unwell?"

Somehow I wasn't prepared for a conversation with him. Not with one of the four. Not with Remus.

"According to Madam Pomfrey, it's just stress. She just needs to get some rest and then she should feel better." I was almost whispering, my voice was so quiet. Nothing compared to yesterday.

"That's good. I hope she gets better soon. Has anything bad happened?" I looked up at him. His eyes were so gentle, as if he really cared. "Something that's really stressing her out?"

When he noticed my look, he looked away. To my disappointment. "But actually, it's none of my business-"

"We had a fight." Why did I tell him that? "I worried her again."

I looked at Amy. Her face wasn't quite so pale and her hand, which I was holding, wasn't quite so sweaty.

"Oh." Remus' voice was very quiet. As if he was afraid of saying the wrong thing. As if he was worried to say the wrong thing.

"And why are you lying here? What happened to you?" It was only when I looked at him that I realized the question was a bit rude.

"If you want to tell me," I added.

He just sighed and suddenly looked so far away. "It was an accident."

I waited for him to tell me more. He didn't.

It stayed quiet between us for a long time. I could feel his gaze from the side, but somehow it didn't bother me a bit. I almost felt safe.

Suddenly he asked me: "Why did you argue?"

I looked into his eyes and almost wanted to tell him everything. I looked at Amy and borrowed her words. "I was an asshole."

He tilted his head and smiled cautiously. "Somehow I can't imagine that."

I looked at him. He looked at me.

"Why?"

"Well, you... It's not like you at all."

I continued to look at him. He continued to look at me.

"What do you mean?"

"You're usually so... Lovely."

Lovely? He saying I was lovely?

I had to laugh. He looked away.

"Me? You don't know me then." I giggled softly. "Besides, anyone can be an asshole, no matter how sweet the person still is."

He looked outside. The moon was up. He had that look again. "Yeah, I guess you're right about that."

It was quiet again after that. I heard soft footsteps outside and my anxiety wanted me to leave. So I stood up and was about to say goodbye to Remus as he-

"I want to know."

"What?"

He suddenly looked into my eyes so intensely that I felt dizzy.

"I want to know you properly."

I didn't know what to say and just looked at him as he continued.

"I want to know what goes through your mind when you see me us."

His gaze moved away from me. "I want to know why you hate us so much."

My whole world suddenly spun and I was in the middle of it. What was he saying? What did he mean, why was he even talking to me? What was going on here, why was he even here? And why did he call me lovely? What did he mean?

I wanted to say something. Something about... What actually?

Somehow I couldn't get anything out of me and was stuck in this spiral of trying to say something and figure out what to say. I opened my mouth, as-

"Remus, we're here!" James' voice tried to sound quiet but was unmistakable. Just like the footsteps of the two boys walking towards his bed.

When I saw them, so many things came back to me. Why I didn't talk to Remus.

"Are you feeling better? Remus -" Sirius faltered when he saw me. He looked between me and Remus and then grinned at me.

"Oh hello."

He turned to James now and 'whispered' to him. "Prongs, let's go and give these two some time to themselves-"

Remus cleared his throat and pointed at Amy who was lying next to me. Sirius fell silent.

"I'd better go now." I said in a very quiet voice again. James and Sirius even left me alone, but I heard their voices before I closed the door behind me.

"So, did she talk to you?" "What was going on with her?" "Is there something-"

The door slammed behind me and my head seemed to explode with questions.

[kozuwhore]

tastes like candy ✩ ˛˚ .

𝜗𝜚 synopsis ⦂ xiao uses his new tongue piercing to his advantage, pulling away any opportunity for your sweet cum to drip down his mouth. 𝜗𝜚 warnings ⦂ dom / mean!xiao, xiao is implied to have tattoos/piercings, face sitting, orgasm control, degrading, praising, spitting, reader has female attributes and spanking.

𝜗𝜚 notes ⦂ this is a repost from my previous account of the same username before it was deleted (it was also my most popular work ,, so let's hope it happens again ajhsjjaaj <33)

you panted softly from the filthy, sloppy work that xiao was performing on your dripping clit as he held your sides to ensure that you weren't going anywhere. although you wanted to escape the teasing pace that he was going at, your main cause for a break from this pleasure was because of your boyfriend's tongue piercing that he got today.

to be honest, you really should have saw this coming. xiao was fucking gorgeous, no one could deny that, but every new piercing and tattoo he added to his skinny yet muscled body made your core heat up even more. the only sad thing was he couldn't use those inked markings or earrings to fuck you, until today.

“xiao...” you whined, gripping the covers beneath you while gently throwing your head back and moaning loudly. “tongue-- fuck, your tongue...”

"you like that, love?" xiao mumbled into your soaked pussy, his piercing rubbing up and down your entrance, which only caused your climax to come up even more. "fuck, this pretty pussy is so cute. all fucking mine..." he said to himself, slapping your ass and devouring you again.

you rocked your hips on his tongue, causing him to grunt deeply from that. he felt like he was on cloud nine because of your pussy and how much it kept aching for him all because of that stupid, sexy tongue piercing of his.

“if i'd know my piercing turned you on so much, i would have gotten it sooner,” he grumbled, gripping your body to thrust on his mouth for a short while before spitting in it. "such a dirty little thing, aren't you?"

“d-don't be so mean,” you responded through moans that caused your throat to hurt even more as your cloudy eyes looked down into his lustful, golden ones. suddenly, you gasped as his tongue dragged upon that certain spot that made you rub on his piercing more. "xiao, fuck, fuck! mhm, baby-- baby, i'm gonna cum, can i please cum?"

"fuckin' hold it," he commanded darkly while toying your clit. "wanna play with my pretty baby some more," he chuckled as his smirk grew  against your clit from your incoherent babbles and pleads.

"xiao, please!" tears pricked your eyes as you whined, gently bouncing your clit on his piercing in a needy manner. "i'll-- i'll do anything! i promise!"

his voice shifted to a fake, concerned tone as his eyebrows furrowed to match, only adding more salt to the wound. "my baby's that desperate? yeah?" your nod only made him let out a chuckle from how bad you needed him. "well, that's too fucking bad. next time, you should have kept those filthy thoughts of yours in check, instead of being a needy whore. now shut up and keep taking my tongue like a good slut."

[telvess]

Reader using pick-up lines on them

chaotic writing for the fun

Hades

“You should be arrested for stealing my heart!”

Pick-up lines, hmm? Alright, fine, but did you have to use the most pathetic, the cheesiest one? Hades is way too elegant for such a poor tasted attempt, he actually feels offended by your words.

Your first impression is horrible. Hades silently judges you. Of course, he is too classy to make any snarky comments, but you can tell by his cold, indifferent look that he has lost all interest in your company. At this point, he is more of a Poseidon than his brother himself.

If you aren’t the type of person who gives up easily and still tries to flirt… just stop. The best you can get from him would be „yes”, „no” or a nod of the head.

Buddha

“You see my friend over there? She want to know if you think I'm cute.”

Buddha stares at you for a long moment, then looks over your shoulder to check out your friend (who you obviously made up), then then returns to you. His expression is blunt, maybe slightly bored. Totally makes you lose the confidence you had a moment ago as you watch him lazily suck a lollipop and pierce you through with his unimpressed glare.

The worst he can say is „no”, right? Well, who would have thought that the enlightened mind of Buddha would prove otherwise. A drawn-out silence makes you uncomfortable and you start to squirm under his gaze, not ready for that unfazed attitude of his…

Once the confidence you felt approached him vanished and you are ready to leave as quickly as possible, Buddha begins to laugh historically. You jump up a little and stare at him confused. It takes him a while to calm down, but when he does, he looks at you seriously again and says „tell your friend I find ya cute” with the most annoying smirk in the entire universe.

Susanoo

“Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?”

Susanoo watches you with harsh expression, his eyebrows raising as your attitude doesn’t change. You just stand in front of him and wait for his answer. Kinda hot, he has to admit.

He is amused by this shitty attempt, but still has to admit that it takes some balls to say something so crappy to his face. You’re bold, stupid and definitely not in your right mind.

He would definitely address all of the above and then… respond to you with an even cheaper pickup line that he thinks sounds good. He is very proud of himself and oblivious to the point that it matches his intimidating aura.

Susanoo likes a person who isn’t concerned with what everyone think of them, but he is also a person who expects others to submit to his will, which makes him rather difficult person to flirt with, demanding from you to adapt to his confusing preferences.

Nikola

“If I could rearrange the alphabet, I'd put U and I together.”

BUAHAHAHAHA! HE WOULDN’T GET IT 100%!

He looks at you very confused at first, then he puts to work all of his braincells trying to figure out what you meant. Is this some kind of puzzle? Mystery? It’s clearly impressive, because he struggles to solve it!

Please, stop the brainstorming session before he starts writing his thought on the board and calls members of the science crew asking for the consultations.

After yours short explanation (which probably burnt your soul to the bones with embarrassment) Nikola nods, compliments your clever attempt and… continues what he was doing before this whole masquerade started, oblivious to the fact you just hit on him. So you just stand there and wait for something, but you last barely several dozen seconds before you run away to hide somewhere far, far away.

Much to your surprise, Nikola visits you the next day and invites you for coffee, bluntly.

Hermes

“Can I put my hand on your thigh, where it belongs?”

You sit next to him and get straight to the point. No hesitation, no shame in your eyes. Hermes’ eyes widen for a millisecond as the words leave your lips. Oh? Oh? Oh? He couldn’t help but let his lips stretch into a wide smile, trying to cover his mouth with his hand as a single chuckle escapes his lips.

When he pulls himself together, Hermes lets his playful nature take over. So you thought you were flirty? Hermes is too smart and too cunning to allow you triumph for long. Even if he isn’t interested, he will leave you with a dry mouth and wet panties. Hermes uses the tongue as smoothly as he uses the violin.

Apollo

“I'm sorry, were you talking to me?” He denies, “Well, would you like to?”

My, my, look at you! Approaching the Sun God just like this? Apollo is impressed. In fact, because of how intimidating he is, it's not often that others surprise him with such bravado. Usually they just treat him as something as intangible as the rays of the sun, bathing in his glory, praising him as a celestial being, not as a person. You - on the other hand - are a breath of fresh air.

Once the first shock wears off, his entire figure begins to glow and he gives you the most breathtaking smile you will ever see. From that point on, everything he does comes so naturally that it makes you lose yourself. After making great first impression, you end up like everyone else: Apollo wraps you around his little finger and before you know it, you just sit there and listen to his melodious voice as if you are bewitched. The man is too charming.

Poseidon

“Are you a magician? Because when I look at you, everyone else disappears.”

Peasant. Get out.

You aren’t clever. You aren’t brave. You aren’t impressive. The only person that will disappear is gonna be you, if you don’t remove yourself in the next 3 seconds.

Whoever didn’t stop you from approaching Poseidon like this, definitely doesn’t wish you well.

Kojirō

“Aren't you tired? From running through my mind all day?”

The man gives you surprised look, and moment later he presents you his widest smile. Sasaki has no clue what to say, so he just stands before you, rubbing his neck and blushing like teenage girl. He may stammers out a few words of thanks, but you really shouldn’t hope for more. Kojirō is simply not used to compliments, so even the simplest pick-up line can rock his world.

Please, ask him about swordsmanship, because it’s probably the only thing he can talk about while his brain fries in the skull.

Once Kojirō pulls himself together, he turns out to be exactly as carefree and friendly as you expected. The longer you two interact, the more open and less awkward he becomes.

Ares

“Do you have a name, or can I just call you 'mine'?”

Did you just? Huh???

Ares blinks a few times before his brain process information. He can’t believe you said something like that! Do you even know who you are talking to? He is Ares, the God of War! One of the twelve Gods of Olympus and son of Zeus! He deserves more respect, not some pathetic, human-alike attempt at flirting. He shouts all this in your face, making a big scene and ridiculing you in front of the others gods. For a moment he’s proud of himself, but your teary eyes quickly put him in a less mighty state.

To make things worse, you literally run away. At first Ares tries to ignore the feeling of guilt in his chest, pretending that your reaction was childish and exaggerated, but all he needs is Hermes to make a little remark (“Poor thing, it seems she gave her all to speak up.”) to make Ares’ face red.

He mutters some lame excuse to leave and starts looking for you. He still thinks your attempt was awful, but maybe - just maybe - his heart skips a beat knowing that some pretty miss thinks so highly of him.

Jack

“If music be the food of love, let’s have a feast together.”

Okay, this man isn’t used to hearing compliments, let alone hitting on him. Jack is a little shocked, not because he doesn’t understand you, but because you actually chose him. He doesn’t recognize you, but to his great surprise you seem to know a little about him. After all, you referred to Shakespeare. It couldn't have been an accident, right?

“Pardon me, lady?” is probably the first thing out of Jack's mouth as he’s still processing what you’ve said, but he quickly snaps out of his surprise, “Forgive me, where are my manners?”

Jack introduces himself properly, takes off the hat and bows like a gentleman. He then politely asks for your name, still fluttered that you gave him a chance.

Thor

“Did you do something to my eyes? I can't seem to take them off you.”

“…”

Neither Thor nor Mjölnir budge. Well, this is definitely something new; no one has ever approached Thor this way before, so he has to give you some points for creativity. However, don’t expect anything as Thor isn’t interested in continuing the conversation, so it’s up to you if you are interested in one-sided interaction.

Loki

“Well, here I am! What are your other two wishes?”

Loki stares at you without the slightest sign of interest, twirling strand of hair around his finger. He seems distant, almost like he didn’t hear you. Then he flinches, as if snapped out of trance. His face changes in a split second: a wide, forced smile and squinting eyes screaming at you to evacuate, because you’ve hit on the wrong guy. “Do you have a death wish, woman?” Loki asks, his voice has the sweetest tone that tickles your ears, but his words spew poison…

Loki is capricious. I don’t think it’s a matter of wrong pick-up line, it's rather more a matter of right timing. But even if you choose a bad moment to approach him, he probably wouldn’t hurt you (physically) - he prefers to scare others, toy with their fear than kill them.

On the other hand, if your timing is right, then you would still bounce off the wall, because Loki doesn’t intent to give you a straightforward answer; he would like to play with you, confuse you with the mixed signals he sends. He wants a reaction from you, entertain him. If you are cocky - his goal is to crush your self-confidence. Shy? Prepare for blushing, squealing and stuttering. Ah, you think you’re being funny here? Loki will gladly turn your smile into tears.

[julietsbody]

beg me — modern ! coriolanus snow + reader : you ask coriolanus to leave your boyfriend alone, and he will, at a cost.

tags : 18+! MDNI! cheating, reader has a bf, blowjobs, begging, face slapping, facefucking, explicit consent, spit kink

a/n : this is something i was been silently working on before my break.. so im finally posting it

coriolanus snow always thought he was above everyone, he was an asshole, especially in college. frats didn’t accept him because he had an eyebrow piercing and refused to take it out, he also liked to give himself stick and pokes, and he wore ‘disturbing’ t - shirts. what about cannibal corpse is disturbing?

and coriolanus could never go through his problems by himself, god no. are you stupid? that idea is revolting to him.

so he takes it out on the people around him, more specifically, the guy in his computer science class. if you thought you knew what a nerd was, you clearly had never met this guy. it was almost pathetic. so who wouldn’t bully him? and coriolanus knows, oh it’s not highschool anymore grow up! no, he thought it was funny to pick and pull at the man who wears ‘science rocks!’ shirts.

what he never expected, though, was that the man had a girlfriend— and that the same girlfriend would wound up at his doorstep one day, furiously knocking at his dorm door.

“one second!” he grumbles, rolling himself out of bed, naps in between classes were always his weakest moments. his clothes were disheveled when he stood, did he sleep in his jeans from earlier— maybe.

you start knocking again, and he audibly groans, running his hand over his face as he approaches his door. he finally opens it midway through your knock, only to find you, a girl dressed in pink and frills, a sorority girl. what a fucking joke.

clearly you thought the same because you stared at him like you didn’t even want to be there— so why were you?

“hello?” he mumbles out, voice raspy from his sudden awakening.

you stare at him for a minute, eyes trailing down to the dog - tag that hangs around his neck, his korn shirt— what the fuck is a korn, and his messy, loose jeans. your eyes snap back up to his face when he clears his throat, “i need to talk to you.”

he squints his eyes at you, “okayyy.. why?”

“because you won’t leave my boyfriend alone,” your arms cross, and coriolanus’ eyebrows furrow.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about, really,” he defends.

you counter it, “you don’t?”

“i just said i didn’t,” at least his attitude matches the look on his face, bitter and confused.

“you won’t stop bothering him, like seriously— he tells me about it all the time, do you have to be such an asshole?”

he pauses, “i think you’ve got the wrong dorm, doll.”

“doll?” you scoff, “i’m josh’s girlfriend, you dick.”

his eyes widen as his lips part into a surprised smile, laughing shortly, “this is a joke, right?”

“no, it’s not— leave my boyfriend alone,” you look so entirely serious.

he’s not buying it, “..okay— i’ll leave your ‘boyfriend’ alone.”

he moves to close the door in your face, but just before it inches to it’s close, your hand pauses it, flat against the wood as you push it back open. you look angrier now, he can’t really tell when you also look so sweet, “do you not believe me?”

“do you want me to be honest?”

“i would like for you to be,” you tilt your head to side ever so slightly.

he tips his chin up, a sign of his entitlement, “i don’t think that guy could pull anyone, let alone you.”

“well, isn’t that sweet,” you suck your teeth, “i’m serious, snow, leave him alone.”

“what if i don’t want to?” his eyebrow cocks, piercing shining in the hallway light.

“you’re gonna want to,” is that a threat?

“how come your boyfriend isn’t saying this himself? does he not have a mouth?”

“we both know you wouldn’t listen to him,” you frown, and he nods his head slightly.

“so, you really want me to leave him alone?” a small smile is curving his lips, again, that godforsaken cheshire cat smile.

“i do, i’m sick of hearing about you,” you snap back.

“is that so?” his voice suddenly becomes softer, “i think you should beg.”

“what?”

“beg me to leave your boyfriend alone.”

you hesitate for a second, “are you fucking stupid?”

“right,” he scoffs, moving to push the door to a near close, “i’ll keep bothering your boyfriend, then.”

you immediately push it to an open again, “no, no— fine, god.”

you push your way into his dorm, rolling your eyes and allowing your lips to part once more, “so embarrassing— i can’t be seen with you.”

“i’m embarrassing? how?” he cocks his head to the side, pushing his door to a close.

“look at yourself,” your arms cross, and he only smiles.

“aren’t you supposed to be begging?”

“god— you’re such a fucking weirdo,” you sigh, “please, leave my boyfriend alone.”

he hums, “that’s not begging.”

“come on— just, give him a break,” you frown up at him, those doe eyes, god, maybe he should tease your boyfriend more so you can come over more often.

“you’re not begging me, why should i leave him alone if you aren’t doing what i ask?” he pushes at his rings, twirling them around on his finger.

you pout ever so slightly, finally caving so he can shut up, “please, coriolanus, please, just leave him alone.”

“get on your knees,” he smiles so sweet it makes you sick.

god, what if josh heard about this.. “are you psychotic?”

“not sure,” he shrugs simply, “i need you to properly beg for me to actually consider it.”

you look away from him as you sigh, finally moving to your knees in front of him. he takes a step closer, smile widening at how easily you do what he asks, despite your slight pushback, you still did it. his lips part to speak again, “look at me.”

you do exactly that, making him chuckle, “leave my boyfriend alone, snow.”

“i’m not hearing please,” his fingers graze your chin.

“please, leave my boyfriend alone— please,” the cool of the hard floor is already forming bruises on your pliant skin.

he notices the way you shift uncomfortably, but also, something about being in this position has your thighs rubbing together. to be on your knees in front of someone, especially someone you heard many rumors about, rumors akin to him having a big dick, being a good fuck. you had always wanted to know, really, if they were true— you just never said anything. but josh, your boyfriend, sweet josh, you can’t do that to him.

can you?

his thumb rubs against your bottom lip, making you shiver, and suddenly the thought of josh becomes a distant memory.

“you know— if i do leave josh alone, ‘m gonna be bored,” he mumbles, voice dripping of salted dark chocolate, “who will i have left to bother?”

“find someone,” your lips purse around his thumb, “anyone.”

“anyone?” he chuckles lightly.

“anyone, whoever you want,” you sound desperate.

his pants feel tight, “whoever i want?”

you nod quickly, making him speak again, “what if i said i wanted you?”

you swallow, he feels it, as much as he feels your cheeks heat up— in his green eyes, you’re reminded of josh’s once more, “but josh..”

“what about him?” he sounds so fucking innocent, “you should forget about him.”

“i don’t know, snow—“ but you do know, you know that you would want nothing less than to suck his dick.

“tell me the truth, doll, because you keep looking at my dick,” he smirks knowingly.

god, he was insufferable, “i— i want to, i want to forget about him, i want..”

“want what?”

“you.”

“oh, sweet girl,” he dips his thumb into your mouth, admiring the way your lips immediately close around it.

eventually he pulls his hand away, helping move to tug his pants down, moving to do the same to his boxers but you quickly shift to help him, moving the boxers down his legs and admiring his cock— did he have a fucking prince albert piercing? the length of it made your breath hitch, as well as the girth, you could already feel the ache of your jaw.

he doesn’t even have to ask you to open your mouth, you’re already doing it, hand placed at his base to hold his dick in place as you place sloppy open mouthed kisses on his dick. his eyebrows furrow at the pleasure that courses through his veins at such a simple, teasing, action, “fuck, didn’t even have to ask you—“

he’s cut off by a grunt when your tongue suddenly trails on the underside of his cock to his tip, jaw falling slack so you can take him in with surprising ease. his hand moves to place itself on your hair, threading through it and tugging your head to bob on his cock, the sounds of saliva bubbling in the back of your throat as his tip hits it becoming his favorite. to hear you gag and sputter on his cock until he pulls away and admires your already messed up makeup, wow, josh should’ve sent his girlfriend sooner.

“so fucking pretty, hm?” he taps your cheek ever so slightly, then smack! he slaps you across the face, surprised by the way you smile at it, “you should leave josh— for me, i could treat you better.”

you shake your head, which only makes him chuckle, moving your mouth back on his cock. you take him so well, it’s addictive the way your moans vibrate against his tip, the sensitivity of your throat, the way your tongue lies flat on the underside of his cock, tracing the vein there. and god, you loved the way you could feel his piercing on your tongue.

to fall for an emo man like coriolanus, it was humiliating, but to be here on your knees, coriolanus’ hips thrusting harshly into your mouth, words can’t even express the amounts of embarrassment you felt. he pauses for a second after you’re coughing on his dick, only to lean down and spit on your face. you groan around his cock, pulling off, “you’re fucking crazy—“

you move to wipe it off, he frowns, “don’t wipe it off, doll.”

“‘m not gonna have your disgusting spit on me,” you snap back.

he fake pouts, “that’s not nice, doll.”

you roll your eyes, moving back on to his cock, looking away from him. he grunts, speaking again, “look at me.”

and you do, you look so perfect it has his dick pulsing in your mouth already. he slaps your face once more before his thrusts get sloppier, eventually pushing your head down to his base, cock twitching inside of your mouth as white spurts coat the back of your throat. he groans into the air, only pulling out when you slap his thigh.

you cough, trying to catch your breath as he moves to tug his boxers and jeans back over his softening cock.

“are you going to leave him alone now?” you move to a stand, glaring at him, as if you weren’t just sucking his dick.

he shrugs, “maybe.”

of course he won’t.

[galaxiasgreen]

🍺🖤This Hell We Create

Sebastian x F!Muggle!Reader with eventual smut [E-Rated, 3.6k words]

"It's hot." "No, and here I thought it was the Arctic." When he makes no move to do anything, you raise your chin, glaring up at him. "No shirt, no service." "I am wearing a shirt." A glint of mischief pierces briefly through his mood. "You know, most women usually ask me to take off my clothes—"

The freckled stranger has been visiting your pub for three months now, drinking to forget the worst times.

You might be the person he needs to remember the best.

[read on AO3, read on Wattpad] [NEXT]

TW: swearing, alcoholism, grief, discussions of death.

1: stupid questions

The freckled stranger has been in your pub every day for the last three months.

It never matters whether it's windy, raining, or overbearingly sunny. It never matters whether it's busy, tables crammed, the counter sticky with spills, or if the tax on drink has gone up. It never matters if he's in a good or bad mood. Every day, right as expected, he shoulders inside Ye Olde Hen House, ignores the chorus of greetings from the tipsy regulars, lumbers to the bar and orders a drink. His choice is always the same: cold stout, brought over in as many glasses he can take before he's one whit away from passing out.

You're used to hauling out drunkards. In this part of the old city they trundle in after labour shifts, seeking to forget the day's worries, and wind up on the floor by hour's end. You pity them their weak constitutions and poor decision-making, and the wives who will have to suffer their company upon their brazen return in the middle of the night.

To his credit, the freckled stranger has never been that drunk.

Yet you pity him most of all.

The first time he steps foot inside the pub he immediately draws your eye. Most of the regulars are in their forties, pot-bellied and cheerful like Christmas adverts of St Nick – but the freckled stranger is around your age, five-and-twenty, with youthful skin, a smooth gait and broad, firm shoulders. His hair is a bed of chestnut curls, and the ends shadow his eyes, also a dark brown, like coffee. Stubble grows in patches over his sharp jaw. In the heat of summer he wears only a linen shirt rolled up at the sleeves, and you can see muscle there, and tattoos, though you force yourself to look away before you can determine what they are, burying your curiosity behind professionalism.

When he makes it to the counter, he slaps down a handful of change and sinks onto the barstool, looking at you, gaze burning expectantly but not with disdain.

"Pint of beer, please."

"Two pence."

He pushes all his coins over. You extract two pennies, then fill a glass to the brim. He drinks quietly but greedily, siphoning the beer like it's his first liquid in days, and when he finishes, every drop consumed, the glass clatters to the countertop in a white-knuckled grip, pronouncing the veins in his hands like cobalt forks of lightning.

"Another, please."

You raise an eyebrow. "Knock that back any faster you might see Heaven before you mean to."

"What makes you think I'm going to heaven?" He throws out a few coins – pennies and halfpennies this time. "Pint of beer, please."

He drinks slower and slower each time as the alcohol alleviates his worries. You feel pity, strong and true. Same age or abouts, and people would look down on you for having a peasant's job, but at least you're not wasting your life away like the freckled stranger.

At least of yourself you make a name, whilst the freckled stranger makes a fool.

By his fourth, sometimes fifth drink, he's spread-eagle on the countertop, playing with the pocket change between his fingertips, wide-eyed with fascination.

"Don't fall asleep," you tell him, squeezing a cloth over a soiled plate. "Or I'll kick you out."

"Not sleepy," he slurs, flicking a half-penny into a tailspin. "Am pensive."

"Pensive... right."

"Pensive about pennies." He chuckles to himself. "Your coins are so funny. What's the point of half-pennies and farthings?"

The use of your is unusual, but he's drunk, so what's new. "Why don't you ask King Edward?" you say humorously.

"You say it like he's only next door. Know him, do you?"

"'Course. We're best mates."

"Put me in contact. I'll change— more make sense."

You purse your lips. He's too drunk to respond coherently, though there's still about three fingers left in the glass, which he eventually works up the means to finish, leaving his lips sticky with cream. By this point it's almost closing time and he struggles to get to his feet. You don't help him. Why should you?

"Ta," he hiccoughs roughly in your direction, and staggers out the door, out of view. You wonder where he goes, what he does in the daytime, whether he has family, or friends, or a pretty girl who pities him too.

He's in a mood on a particularly hot June evening, when he walks into the pub with his shirt unbuttoned.

Do not look. Despite being a complete wastrel, the freckled stranger, you hate to admit, is extremely well-built, with a finely-toned chest and brawny arms that could easily win many wrestling matches, and many hearts too. Maybe he already has. The long stripe of flesh between the two front panels tease a wide chest tattoo, inked over his pectorals like fine canvas – what appears to be two runic symbols and the number 706.

You quickly glance away. That's already too much. Just because a man is attractive doesn't mean you should be staring. You compose yourself and make your way over before he reaches the bar.

"Shirt," you say. "Button it up."

He halts, drinking in the sight of you. Up close, all you can smell is his musk, salty like the sea, and just as powerful. His hair is soaked with it too – there are dirt marks there, like he's been in a scrap, but he appears uninjured.

"It's hot."

"No, and here I thought it was the Arctic." When he makes no move to do anything, you raise your chin, glaring up at him. "No shirt, no service."

"I am wearing a shirt." A glint of mischief pierces briefly through his mood. "You know, most women usually ask me to take off my clothes—"

"Do up your shirt," you grind out, "or get out."

The mischief dissipates as his eyes narrow, but he reluctantly buttons up the front. The shirt is ratty and torn at the elbows, but still smells enticingly like him, and he doesn't bother going up all the way, leaving an annoying glimpse of that unusual scrawl of symbols.

"Happy now?"

You go around the counter, ignoring him. "What do you want?"

"What do you think?"

Your eyes narrow. "You know the cost."

A hand slips into his pocket and produces a handful of coins, which he dumps out flippantly. They clatter to a stop in a wide arc.

Impertinent. Your lips flatten. Two can play that game.

"You've been here enough times to know the correct change by now."

He snorts. "Every bloody coin looks the same."

"It has Britannia wielding the trident on one side."

"Who the hell is Britannia?"

You roll your eyes. "Edward is on the other. Know who he is or have you really been living in the Arctic?"

"I remember your best mate." Finally he takes two pennies from the pile. "You could've just said it was the biggest bronze coin and saved yourself the hassle."

You could've also told him it literally says penny on the rim, but who knows if he's able to read – or whether he can right now. "You don't learn if you don't figure it out for yourself." You take them from his proffered hand. "Pint or half-pint?"

"Another stupid question."

"In that case, I won't serve you—"

"Wait." He grunts in annoyance and holds out the pennies again. "One pint of beer, please."

"That's better."

He takes the drink, and your gaze dips to the hand clenching the glass – you've never seen a drunk with such... muscle definition before. His frame is broad, his chest like full barrels of whiskey. He looks like he knows how to handle his body – how to use it to full advantage.

Shame. If only he didn't have the personality of a wet rag.

You serve another few people before he motions for you again, and this time you pour him the drink without saying a word. He exchanges the right money for the glass.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, before you go away again. "I've been rude."

You hesitate, suspicious. "Yes, you have."

"You're just doing your job."

"Yes, I am."

"Can you forgive me?"

That same glint of mischief there, except this one is charming – this one prods a little more insistently at your mental walls. You snort.

"This time."

He takes a sip, leaving a trail of foam on his mouth – he thumbs it away and licks the tip.

Hastily you look away.

"How long have you been working here?" the freckled stranger asks one Tuesday night, when the pub is dead.

You slap your cloth to the countertop, soaked with wood polish. You've talked to him a few times now, but this is the first that's been more than polite greetings, menial chatter, and get out, you're completely sozzled.

"Why?"

"What d'you mean, why?"

"Why d'you want to know?"

He leans back, lips tugging upwards. "I know you but I don't know you, if that makes sense."

"And it should stay that way."

"I just think it would be nice to properly appreciate the woman who serves me drinks every day."

You roll your lips. He's a good talker when he wants to be – when he's sober. "Been working here longer than you've been drinking here, that's for sure."

"A year? Five years? How old are you?"

"Careful."

"I'm twenty-seven."

"Didn't ask."

His gaze on you is lowered but penetrating when he braces his chin in a hand. You can't help but feel a little flushed.

"Do you own this fine establishment?"

"I do."

"Not your husband?"

"Not married."

"But you're so old."

"Do you want to get kicked out?"

His smile curls. "Put-off marrying because it will mean handing all your assets to your undeserving husband?"

You pause to glare at him. "So you know the lack of women's rights but you can't figure out which coin is a penny?"

"Women's rights makes sense. The coins don't. Why do all the bronze ones look the same? I'm still waiting on a meeting with Ed about that, by the way."

"Oh, the lack of women's rights makes sense, does it?"

"I said women's rights makes sense. I'm on your side."He shrugs. "Personally, though, I'm more of a supporter of women's wrongs."

A laugh gutters out of you, and with a self-satisfied, feline grin, he drinks.

Something is very wrong when he comes in on his four-month anniversary.

If rain could embody a person, the freckled stranger would be a barely-contained hurricane. He looks the worst you've ever seen – dark crescents beneath red eyes, skin frighteningly wan, burst blood vessels webbing across his cheeks like crinkles on a flattened wad of newspaper. He glowers at anyone who looks at him askance, a clear signal to stay the fuck away.

He slumps bodily onto his normal barstool – and there comes the pity, an avalanche crashing through your body.

"Beer."

You don't move.

He lets out an annoyed sigh. "Pint of beer, please."

You pour it. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing."

"Fine. All the same to me." It's not all the same – he looks like the truth might kill him from the inside. "Stout's out. I've got porter."

His eyes flash. "Porter's weak shit."

"That or ale. Take your pick."

"Porter then."

You pour it. It's infamously dark in colour, like his eyes right now, black and molten and unforgiving of a world that has cut him up and left him to die. When he takes the glass he doesn't thank you, just jams the rim between his teeth and gulps ravenously. The slam on the countertop reverberates.

"Another."

"Seem to be missing a thank you and please—"

"Can you just—" He catches himself. "Not today. Just not today."

"Today is a regular ol' Thursday for me," you point out coldly. "If you want some leeway for your absent manners you're going to have to give me a reason."

He mumbles something inaudible.

You lean forwards. "Didn't catch that."

Finally his gaze settles on you, and it's guarded, striking, like steel.

"My twin sister died four months ago today."

When people turn to drink, it's mostly because of one of two things: grief, or loneliness. Now you know the freckled stranger is both. You can see it in the shadows that cling to him, in the trembling of his cracked knuckles, grasping the glass like it's the only thread between him and sweet oblivion.

It doesn't surprise you to hear it, nor see it with your own eyes – but a death of a twin... now that's something you've never heard before. Especially not from someone so young.

"Sorry to hear that." The condolence softens your disdain, just a little. "I can't imagine—"

"No, you can't imagine what it must be like, yes, it's awful, is there anything you can do? Sorrows and prayers, sorrows and prayers!" The laugh is hysterical. "I don't want that. I didn't come here to listen to your pity."

Strange... until this conversation, pity was all you felt.

Now you're just angry.

"Why'd you tell me then?" you shoot back, as your temper builds in your belly. "You blurt your sob story and, what, expect me not to say anything?"

"I came to drink, so that's what I'll damn well do."

"Then shut your cakehole, drink your damn porter and stop fishing for sympathy."

Something cracks along his expression. He splutters. "Like hell I'm fishing—"

"Four months, you said? Yet here you are, sulking. You look like she passed only yesterday. Is this what she would've wanted, for you to drink yourself into stupor every bloody day?"

Genuine anger clouds his face. "You don't know what she would've wanted."

"I know you care for her deeply, so I can guess she cared deeply for you too, and I don't know a single loved one of mine who'd want me to live in this hell you've created for yourself."

He stands to his feet – nearly stumbles. "You can't talk to me— like— you don't—"

"Look at you, too drunk to even stand. You drank before you came here, didn't you? You've been drinking all day, feeling sorry for yourself. If you won't accept my condolences, fine, but you better heed this warning instead: if you ever talk to me like that again, I will have you chucked out and barred not just here, but every damn pub this side of the city, and I won't give a rat's arse about your grief or your shitty coping strategies. Do you understand?"

Something lifts and vanishes from his eyes, like a dark shape that flees arrest in the cover of night. The crack in his façade widens, and maybe it's the reek of him, of old stale drink that wisps out of him in short breaths, but something makes you lean back, give him space to process your words, to process his mistake in crossing you.

You were yelling all that, and the rest of the pub has quietened in response. One of the regulars stands up and makes eye contact with you, but you wave him away. You're all right. The freckled stranger understands now.

The look on his face is not just defeat... but clarity.

"Understood," he rasps out eventually.

"Good." Your heart races – you fight to control it. "Now, I've got other customers waiting, so if you don't mind keeping your voice down?"

But he knocks back the rest in one go and leaves without saying a word.

Maybe you were a little harsh.

You stew on it the next morning as you prepare for a busy day. Wiping the surfaces, preparing the stock, checking the tills, rallying the other staff and replenishing the taps – so much to do and occupy your mind, yet there you are, face creased as you think of the freckled stranger and his grief.

He needed the push, you don't regret that, but you do regret, just slightly, how you delivered it. It could've gone so many ways – he could've complained to the police and tarnished the pub's reputation, could've destroyed furniture, glass, could've hurt you. You might own Ye Olde Hen House but at the end of the day you're a glorified barmaid – a wench, some of the older patrons sometimes use against you derogatorily. Who are you to offer the freckled stranger life advice?

You thought he might not appear that evening, but at eight o'clock, he shoulders through the door and takes the same bar stool, right in front of you, as always.

"Pint of beer," he murmurs, "please."

You pour it for him, making it extra frothy, but say nothing when you slide it over. This time he pays the correct coinage, no fuss. So he's capable of using his brain just as much as you're capable of feeling guilt. His knuckles blanch over the glass, clenching it hard – you find yourself distracted by his hands, solid and engulfing, like he would never yield anything in his grip.

You let out a scathing sigh. "Look, I'm sorry."

He raises a finger and tips the glass back until all the porter has slid down his throat.

"Can't have this talk sober," he says, using his muscled forearm to wipe his mouth messily. "Another. Please."

He sets out the coin, you pour him the drink. He doesn't say a word until the next one goes down, and the next. Eventually he massages the bridge of his nose.

"I'm sorry myself," he forces out, even though the drink softens the consonants. "You shouldn't have to apologise."

"I was harsh."

"You were an arsehole."

"Funnily enough that's why I'm saying sorry."

"No, but... it was nice, your bluntness." He sags on the counter, but his gaze is still locked on you. "Every bloody person I know has been coddling me for months. Sorry about Anne this, I'm sad for you that. The condolences and sadness and hugs and well-wishes has never stopped. Even my best friends Ominis and Garreth keep tiptoeing around me like I'm as fragile as a Remembrall."

"A what?"

"Glass," he amends swiftly. His thumb presses into the curve of his jaw, protruding the strong cords of his neck. "I'm so fed up with it. So fucking fed up."

"You know you're not helping yourself, right?" you say, hoping this doesn't cross a line again. "Coming in here to drink—"

"Every day, I know. I just need it. I need to drink. I need to— to forget what I did—" He shakes his head and grasps his temple fiercely. "Tell me something. Quick."

"What?"

"Anything. Your favourite book, how your parents met, the drama of whoever you're shagging at the moment, I don't care. I don't want to think. Just – give me anything. And another beer. Please."

So you tell him your favourite book – you don't get to read very often, you're lucky you can read at all – and you tell him the less-than-exciting story of how your parents met. You're not 'shagging' anyone at the moment, which you say with a roll of your eyes, so you're relatively drama-free. Your life is utterly mundane, as you like it.

You don't leave him with nothing, however.

"I've been at this pub since I was eighteen, seven years ago. Inherited it off my parents now that they're too old to work."

He must do the maths as he squirrels away another beer.

"You must enjoy it."

"It was either here or the match factory. You must know how that went."

He smiles indulgently. "Expert in women's rights, remember?"

You huff a snort.

"You get how this place works, then."

"I've been helping out here since I was a tot, so yes, I know everything there is to know. Plus it pays well and keeps me mostly protected, and I get to be part of the community and meet new people."

He lets out a breathy chuckle.

"Like me?"

You tip your head.

"Yeah, like you, I suppose." You gently pry the empty glass from his hand. "Another?"

"Stupid question."

But he smiles fondly this time, so you make a face and pour his fourth beer without complaint.

You don't talk much from then. You're busy with other customers and he's probably tired of chatting, though you meet his eye several times during the last hour, like a hook on a thread that catches by accident – or fate. It's those coffee eyes that you're drawn to. They dance like fingers on skin, to a rhythm as constant as ocean waves, cascading down your spine even when you turn away.

By the time the other patrons have left and the gramophone has run out of records to play, all that's between you and closing is the freckled stranger.

"What's your name?"

You glance his way. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why'd you want to know?"

"It's not an interrogation. It's just so you're not the bar girl in my head."

"In that case," you smile sweetly, "it's none of your business."

"You drive a hard deal, bar girl," he says, taking it in his stride. "My name is Sebastian Sallow."

"Didn't ask."

"Trade you? I'll even throw in a middle name as a bonus."

"No thanks." You flick towards the door. "Now, it's nearly one o'clock and my pub is about to close, so you better skedaddle before I toss you out by ear, Sebastian Sallow."

"That's a lot more effective now that you can use it against me." The barstool scrapes – Sebastian Sallow manages to make it to the door without stumbling once. "Will I regret telling you?"

You hold the door and smile indulgently as he steps out.

"Stupid question."

You shut it in his face.

[NEXT] [Divider credit]

[anystalker707]

don't let me go

Pairing: Sam Monroe x [gender-neutral] Reader Summary: he confesses his feelings to you, but he's a lot softer than you thought Tags: comfort / he's puppy coded (normal) / he's also whiny (normal) / giving him a piercing, but it's brief / he cries a lot a/n: self-indulgent fic, and @sw33tsuccubus wanted to read it <3

MASTER LIST

The tips of my fingers felt something between numbness and a stinging pain while I pressed the ice cube wrapped up in a gauze over Sam’s eyebrow until he sighed, staring at me.

“It’s enough,” he said with that bad humor of always.

“If you keep being annoying like that, I’ll never do you another favor,” I sighed as well, putting the ice cube inside an empty glass on the nightstand, but he didn’t seem unsatisfied, snickering.

“You know very well that you will, independent of how ‘annoying’ I am,” Sam continued, following the needle with his eyes.

I shook my head. “Wanna test?” And he didn’t have time to answer, his words being replaced by a hiss the moment the needle pierced his skin, going in under his eyebrow and reappearing a few millimeters above it. “Done,” I said, carefully putting the barbell in the needle’s place and cleaning the area around the new perforation with a humid piece of cotton.

It sounded like Sam had been holding his breath for a while, exhaling heavily while letting his head hang, forehead pressed to my shoulder, while I discarded the needle and the cotton in the glass, with the ice. It wasn’t safe or anything, but it was what we could do when Sam had no money on him.

“Let me see.” I pulled away a little, just enough to look at his face, watching his cheeks, normally pale, now slightly flushed.

Sam tried to arch an eyebrow but suppressed the movement whilst grabbing a small mirror from the bedside table and taking a brief look at his new piercing. “It’s good.” He looked at me again, moving to sit on my lap, straddling it, and kissed me on the forehead. Curious. I rolled my eyes. “What do you think?”

“Yeah, it’s good,” I said, nodding, giving him a light tap on the thigh. He had a few tears in his eyes. I wiped one away before it fell from his eye and ruined his eyeliner.

The new piercing suited him very well, overall. Something that had been missing. Silver was a color that really complemented him—it was on the chains that hung from his neck and over the worn-out band shirts, and also on the ones that fell from his belts that were practically useless on the large pants that were always low enough to show the hem of his boxers and the circumference of his hips. The silver of his earrings and the labret under his plump lip contrasted fantastically with the black eyeliner, same color as his short air, save for the blue strand.

“It hurt like a bitch,” he muttered with a sigh.

“Well, I told you that I’m not exactly a professional or something,” I chuckled. “But it’s not crooked or bad. You just gotta care for it now. I’d give it a little kiss to make it better, but I don’t want it to get infected,” I chuckled again.

Sam clearly wanted to laugh, but he masked the laughter with a scoff and gave my shoulder a light pat. “Stop being stupid,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes, and he was so beautiful like that. I would’ve kissed those plump lips if I could. I didn’t remember the last time I’d seen someone that beautiful. He adjusted his position on my lap to make it more comfortable for us, almost resting his head on my shoulder again before he looked me in the eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

The question was useless, really. Sam already knew a lot of personal things and could practically ask about anything, but I only nodded, muttering in agreement. My hand hovered over his thigh, tracing the logo of a band patch he’d sewn there. Very poorly.

The silence made me look at his face again, and Sam poked his labret with the tip of his tongue, his cheeks still flushed. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally exhaling and speaking up, his voice trembling slightly. “What do you think of me?”

It was hard to tell, even harder to act as if I weren’t a deer caught in headlights—a situation that only existed inside my mind, worst of all. I sighed, shaking my head. Sam was so many things. Why did he need to know that?

“Ah, dunno. You’re one of the coolest people I know.” I paused to think. “You have a great style. Smart. Cute, too. I didn’t think I’d have the patience to be friends with you, but we hit it off pretty well.” We had different backgrounds, obstacles, but it never seemed to be much of an issue. “I like you a lot, as a person, y’know.”

A crease appeared between Sam’s eyebrows until he slowly averted his gaze and pressed his lips together. “Cute? Really?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re like a puppy, sometimes. In a good sense, of course.” I shrugged lightly and leaned back against the headboard.

Sam bit his bottom lip, playing with his labret again, a loose thread of his jeans between his fingers. It wasn’t really possible to identify the expression on his face, but there was an air of annoyance. Maybe. “A puppy? I think you already called me something like that when we first met.”

I smiled. “Yeah, of course.” I hooked my finger around the ring of the black collar that involved his neck and tugged lightly, noticing the light hitch in his breath.

“For fuck’s sake, if you keep doing that all the time, I’ll go insane!” Sam’s eyes widened while he took my wrist and lowered my hand, but he still held it, between us.

“Poor thing,” I chuckled, shaking my head. Sam’s hand was warm and kinda soft. His rings were pretty silver bands, darkened through time, around bony fingers, suiting him well.

Despite grumbling, Sam didn’t say anything. His attention was in tracing my knuckles with his thumb. I didn’t like the silence hovering between us. I wanted to hear his voice more.

“Why did you want to know what I think of you? Afraid that I secretly hate you or something?” I smiled, observing our hands. “If that’s really the reason, I’m just kidding. I also feel like people secretly hate me, sometimes, so I’m not judging.”

Sam chuckled in disbelief and shook his head. “No,” he said, gulping. “It’s not that. It’s just… Dunno, I like knowing what you think about me.”

My heart fluttered in my chest. “Fair.” I sighed. “Does your piercing hurt?”

Without looking up, Sam squeezed my hand lightly, taking a while to answer. “Uh?” His blue eyes finally met mine. “Ah, it’s not that bad, only sore.” He moved his eyebrow lightly and clearly regretted it. It was a little swollen already.

I only nodded. Of course, he knew how to deal with that, with all the piercings he already had. His hand squeezed mine lightly again while he adjusted his position on my lap.

“Another question.”

“Shoot,” I said.

“Hypothetically,” Sam started, “if a person has been secretly in love with someone else. For years. Should they confess?”

I sighed. It was a difficult topic. I leaned back against the headboard once more, leaning my head back against it, and shrugged. “Is it better to speak or to die?” I had heard that somewhere.

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Sounds like a threat,” he chuckled, playing with his rings, transferring one from his hand to mine. “So, what you’re saying is that it’s better to speak?”

I breathed a chuckle. “Ah, yeah. Totally a threat. If you don’t confess, someone will show up and stab you. And it counts for everyone.”

And Sam chuckled, too, seeming calmer now. He rolled his eyes, smirking. “No need to threaten like that. I don’t have a deathwish,” he joked and paused. “You’re avoiding the question.”

I sighed again, avoiding his gaze for a moment, drumming my fingers against his thigh. “I know. Like, it’s just that I don’t know. I’m one to suffer in silence. I don’t want to tell someone to confess and be hypocritical.”

Sam took a moment to answer, seeming to ponder what I said, pouting. “Hypocritical,” he accused in a whisper, squeezing my hand.

I chuckled, nodding. “I am.”

“A coward,” he insisted, with a smirk.

“I am,” I agreed again. “I’d rather die.”

Sam asked me if I really loved someone intensely enough to prefer dying with my feelings to confessing and having them rejected, but how could I not? People are infatuating, and I had an aching heart. I had a whole universe inside me. I felt too much, saw too much, heard too much, and everything just for because I was breathing and being alive. Anyhow, I could and wanted to love that intensely.

His next doubt was about why I wouldn’t confess if I loved people that much, but feeling too much is a double-edged sword. Too much love also meant too much sadness, and letting the love fade away seemed easier than reconstructing myself again and again after every wreckage.

Sam seemed angsty, brows furrowed, and lips pressed together while he held my hand tightly, as if afraid of something. “You say pretty things.”

I chuckled. “They’re just messy words.”

“Don’t talk like that. It’s not messy…” Sam said, seeming like he was going to add to it, but nothing ever came, so I just kept in silence for a moment, looking into those beautiful blue eyes, playing with his fingers between mine.

“Well,” I broke the silence, my shoulders dropping while I smiled, “if you say so…”

A hint of despair flickered in Sam’s eyes, but I didn’t really know what to do with that. What kind of despair was that? What if I scared him? His hand shifted against mine, still holding it.

“You can’t just sit there, being poetic and holding my hand, and expect me to answer so eloquently,” Sam murmured with a pout.

I shook my head. “I only expect you to be yourself.” I squeezed his hand.

A lot of things seemed to be going on inside his head, and I asked myself why. I liked making someone like Sam—all sulky and tough—turn into a mess with me, even if that occasionally gave me a sense of guilt.

Sam gulped. “You’re making this hard for me.”

I raised my eyebrows in curiosity and a bit of surprise. “Huh? Hard? What for? Why?” I tilted my head to look at him in the eyes as his gaze fell again.

“You keep saying that poetic and romantic stuff,” Sam said sharply. “And I’m just sitting here, wanting to tell you something, but I’m afraid you’ll rip my heart out.”

I widened my eyes a little and chuckled but in disbelief. “Rip your heart out?” I scoffed. “Why would you expect that from me?”

Sam contained himself, grumbling. A faint pain spread through my hand, given the way his nails sank into my skin. “I’m being serious, and this is not funny,” he said, trying to keep his voice firm and steady. “So stop mocking me.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “I’m not mocking you,” I tried to keep my voice soft, in contrast. “I’m trying to understand you.”

His face got redder each time. Was he that angry or annoyed? His eyes scanned my face, looking for something that I didn’t know what to be. He was panting a little. “Promise not to laugh?”

The question was childish, but I wouldn’t make things even more complicated now. “I’d never laugh at something that’s serious for you,” I said, trying to seem casual, shrugging, however, my heart hammered in my chest as I gently caressed his hand.

Nodding short and fast, Sam exhaled, humming. “Okay. You can’t laugh, alright… I’m being serious,” he said, straightening his posture and taking a deep breath.

I nodded. I had to keep calm. Be patient. “I won’t laugh. I won’t get angry. I won’t distance myself,” I reassured, holding his hand between mine.

“You won’t hate me?’

“I’d never hate you.” I smiled. “The sooner you say it, the easier it’ll be. It gets harder the more you overthink.”

Sam huffed. “You’ll say something mean after this. Gonna tell me off.”

“No, Sam, it’s clearly a sensitive topic,” I said and paused, taking a deep breath. Keep calm. “Of course, I won’t say or do anything mean. I want to know what’s going on and help you. If you want it, that is. Maybe just listen. I’ll continue here, anyway.” I made an effort to look at him in the eyes the whole time.

Sam seemed a little more desperate, furrowing his eyebrows and looking down. For a moment, I thought he would faint, but he kept sitting there, on my lap, holding my hand, breathing shakily. “I’m in love. With you.” He whimpered, eyes glassy.

My heart skipped a beat. Everything stopped. I looked at him in disbelief. Did I hear it wrong? “Huh, in love with me?” I repeated, like a fool. “You don’t have to cry about it,” I whispered, wiping a tear away before it ran down his face and ruined his eyeliner. He almost trembled in stress.

For some reason, Sam furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. “Stop with that! Stop being so patient!”

My mind blanked for a moment. Why wouldn’t I be patient with him? What else did he expect? I wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling Sam closer. “What’s it, Sam? What’s wrong?” I wiped a few tears away from his face but didn’t stop him from crying his feelings out. It was a rare occurrence, and it seemed to be exactly what he needed, practically melting into my arms.

Sam clung to me as if he depended on it, hiding his face in my shoulder. His shoulders started to shudder, and he sobbed. “Why are you acting like that?” He sounded angry.

“Like what?” I almost scoffed. I don’t know how he wanted me to act. Maybe say something mean, laugh, reject him, or distance myself, as he feared, but as he was used to. Not a lot of people genuinely liked him. “I’m taking care of you. Am I supposed to stop?” I rubbed his back in an attempt to comfort him.

He whined and sobbed again, arms tightening around me. “No. Don’t stop,” Sam said quietly, voice muffled against my shoulder, and I exhaled in relief, despite not understanding everything.

“It’s okay. I’m here,” I whispered.

Sam seemed to be falling apart while crying and sobbing, clinging, and squeezing me. His face was hot against my neck, making it humid with the tears and heavy breathing, but it was irrelevant. I held him close and squeezed him back, letting him cry out all he needed to and enjoying his presence. I pressed my nose against his hair and closed my eyes momentarily.

Slowly, his sobs were replaced by light whimpering and shallow breathing, and his face wasn’t so close to my neck anymore, though he still held me strongly. The tears were drying, the silence growing louder. “Please,” Sam whispered. His breath tickled my neck. “Don’t let me go.”

“I won’t.” I kissed his temple, letting my lips linger against his damp skin. He closed his eyes. Made a quiet, needy sound.

“I can’t handle you being that caring with me. Fuck.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “Why, my love?”

Sam tensed up again, his eyes filling with tears once more, as he held me tighter. He took a while to answer. “Makes me want to kiss you.”

A chuckle escaped my lips easily. “Then let’s kiss. What’s stopping us?”

A look of disbelief took over his face as he pulled away, just enough to look me in the eyes properly, with his eyeliner all smudged. He seemed smaller like that. Fragile. “Kiss me.”

And it didn’t take me a lot to do that. It was like a dream becoming true, making my body tingle when I felt his lips against mine, and I cupped his cheek, caressing it lightly. His skin was still hot. I finally felt the sensation of kissing those plump lips. The kiss seemed to last for an eternity, and I wanted it to last for another, but our lungs objected.

The cold air substituted Sam’s hot breathing against my face when we pulled away. I tried to clean away a little of the smudged eyeliner with my thumb while he looked at me with a mix of emotions, with passion, disbelief, anxiety. It was like he was in a daze.

“Everything alright?” I looked at him in the eyes, watching him glance at my lips.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam mumbled. His hands were closed tightly around my shirt.

I smiled. “My boy,” I mumbled with a peck against his lips, and it seemed like Sam would fall apart in my arms at any moment. It was hard to see him like that, all needy and shy, but I liked it. So lovely.

Sam wrapped his arms around my neck, holding firmly, taking deep breaths to slowly calm himself down. “Don’t let me go, okay?”

“Of course not,” I chuckled and pecked his lips again. “I’m yours, and you’re mine. Is that okay?” I kept giving him little pecks, trying to find out how much I could make him melt just with that, rubbing his sides.

His lips curled up in a shy smile while he nodded. “Say it again.”

“I am yours,” I repeated and kissed him, letting it last a little longer, “and you’re mine.”

Sam almost whimpered. We couldn't possibly get closer to each other, but it didn’t keep him from trying, wrapping his legs around my waist. “Hold me tighter.”

If I held him as tightly as I wanted, maybe I’d break Sam, so I held back, nuzzling his nose before kissing him again and again. “Mine, all mine,” I whispered. I had waited for too much time to say that.

⋆°｡⋆🎧🎸★ 𝖇𝖆𝖉 𝖗𝖊𝖕𝖚𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 ★🎸🎧⋆｡ °⋆

[saturnsorbits]

Don't Ask, Don't Get

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Talk of Losing Virginity, Virgin!Reader, FuckBoy!Kirishima-ish, Suggestive, Teasing, Word Count: 1.1k.

Summary: Kirishima has a reputation. You still have your virginity. How about that, huh?

A/N: Did I finally write something after all this time? Yes. Is it also mostly unfinished and very short? Also, yes. Will there be a part two? Maybe.

The clock on the wall ticks. It's an ugly thing, gimmicky, with thick, oddly carved arms poking out from either side. For a moment you just watch it, listening to the rhythmic beat of its arms as they shift counting down one minute, then two. You squint. It's ten minutes early, like someone has deliberately set the time to induce a constant state of minor panic.

Which is, from where you're sitting, pretty damn unneeded.

Perched on the edge of the bed, you feel pretty out of place amongst the scattered dumbbell weights and hanging medals. It's to be expected, of course. After all, this isn't your room and it's certainly not your bed.

No.

It's the bed of a boy.

And, not just any boy...

Kirishima Eijirou leaves the bathroom encased in a thick layer of steam. His hair is wet, having just showered, and down, it's ends tickling the tanned skin of his shoulders. The towel around his waist is tied poorly, dipping so low on his hips that the start of his dense thicket of pubic hair is clearly visible. He rakes a hand through his hair causing the muscle of his bicep to tense and the meat of his pec to stretch and jiggle.

It makes your stomach feel funny.

'So...' Flashing his signature bright smile, he digs a hand into the curve of his hip drawing your eye to the defined dips there. 'What did you want to talk about?'

I…’ You clear the dryness from your throat. ‘I was talking to Mina.’

‘Oh no.’ Kirishima grins. His eyebrows arc playfully on his forehead.

His mood is infectious and you find yourself sharing his smile; you’re not sure you’d be able to resist it if you tried. There’s something about him that makes you feel at ease, allowing you to sink deeper into his mattress as a girlish chuckle slips from your lips. ‘She…’ You swallow. ‘Well, we were talking and -.’

Kirishima rolls his shoulders, causing his still wet skin to shine softly in the light.

The motion steals your thoughts and ruins your confidence. ‘She said she knew you in middle school…’ You cringe. It’s not a lie. That was how the conversation had started after all. How it had ended, however and the reason you’d found yourself in Kirishima’s room at almost midnight on a Tuesday in your only pair of fancy, matching underwear… Was a different matter entirely.

If he notices the sudden, awkward detour in the conversation, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he laughs. A full bodied rumble vibrates through his chest, eliciting a chuckle that is half-kitten, half-avalanche. ‘Yeah. I was - uh - I was pretty different back then.’

You know. You’ve seen pictures on Mina’s phone. Back then, Kirishima had been small, with a mop of black hair and a smile that never saw the light. It’s a far cry from who he is now… Big, bright and boisterous. 'Yeah...'

'Did you and Mina talk about anything else?' He cocks an eyebrow, his large palms digging into the flesh of his hips.

'Yeah, we... We -.' You can feel his gaze on you, gentle and piercing all at once, but he doesn't force you to talk. Instead, he waits, patient, with that smile on his face that makes you want to know what it would be like to sit on it.

There's a sparkle in his eyes when he licks over his lower lip and rumbles. 'C'mon, you know you can just ask, right?'

All of the embarrassment in your body flames in your face. You can feel it bubbling there, threatening to make you do something stupid as you look up at the boy with a too bright smile and a cock that you've been promised will ruin you. 'I -.'

Taking a measured step forward, Kirishima leaves barely an inch between your knees. His smile is still blinding, but now, there's something new wedged in-between his teeth. 'You know...' Nudging at your knee with his, he encourages open your legs and steps between them. 'Mina and I have known each other forever.' Reaching down, he hooks a finger underneath your chin and presses his thumb to the bump of your lower lip. 'We talk too.'

A shiver breaks out down your spine making you feel too hot and too cold all at once. The hold he has on your face, although gentle, feels like a choke hold. The pads of his fingers calloused, keeping you easily at his mercy. 'I -.'

'So, just ask.'

His new proximity makes you dizzy as one million and on thoughts are sent speeding through your head at once. It's hard to think, hard to comprehend anything that isn't the rough of Kirishima's hand and the purr of his voice as he looks down on you sweetly, waiting with a patience you'd thought impossible. Swallowing, you loosen your tongue, but what leaps from your mouth is far from the question you'd wanted to ask. 'I'm a virgin.'

'Yeah?'

The bright sparkling you'd mistaken for curiosity has returned to his eyes, but now, there's something else laced within their red seas. It makes your chest tight and your pulse sink, migrating lower than you've ever felt it before. Instead of answering, you nod.

'Do you think that bothers me, sweetheart?' He coos. The hand curled under your chin tips, forcing your face further up. From this position, there's no avoiding his eye, forcing you to gaze right at him as he smirks.

A whine breaks through the seam of your lips, surprising even you as you feel yourself beginning to slip. You've never felt like this, both helpless and secure at the same time, but the way his eyes seem to glow when he looks at you has you treading air. He hasn't even touched you yet.

His eyes burn dark, hungry, as he lets his gaze slip down your body. A cool smirk itches at the side of his mouth, pulling his lip just enough to expose the ends of sharp teeth. As if reading your thoughts, Kirishima taps his thumb against your lip. Leaning down, he closes in until he can feel the soft pants of your breath fan against his cheeks.

'Because it doesn't.'

You squeak. His cheeks have warmed, giving his boyish charm an added highlight as the vulgarity slips easily from his tongue. It contrasts with the sweetness still lingering in his smile, promising so much more than his boyish charm.

'Use your words... C'mon, tell me what you want.'

'I...' You swallow. Between the heat already building in your stomach and the embarrassment coiled low, you're tongue tied, but you know you're not going to get what you want without asking for it – he's made that more than clear. 'I... I - want you to fuck me...'

He chuckles, tilting his head. 'Yeah?..'

You fidget in the space he leaves. 'Please?'

'Oh.' Kirishima's eyes blow wide, a wicked smile pulling at the edge of his lip. 'Look at you using your manners...' He licks at his teeth. 'I think we're going to have a lot of fun, Sweetheart.'

-> Masterlist

[alexa-fika]

Guide in the Darkness (Smoker x f!blind!child!reader x Fujitora)

A/N This is for the Anon that asked for toph!reader and I completely butcher the request so bad that I deleted it within the hour. Also sorry for the lack of uploads, got off a plane and have been unpacking since, and I start work tommorow but I will try to still upload daily!

Dividers by @/saradika

The muscular man sighs as he hears another crash coming from his daughter's quarters, opening the door, he glances at a vase smashed on the floor.

“Thought I told you to stop breaking things on purpose,” he grumbles, blowing out the smoke from his cigars in a thick cloud

“This is so stupid! I can’t do anything, Dad! The moment im on a boat, I’m so useless! “She screams, slowly sinking down to the ground and sobbing

A heavy sigh of irritation escapes Smoker's lips as he drops to his knees before his daughter, kneeling to the same level as her. A heavy hand touches her shoulder in a reassuring manner. A warm and kind gesture, but his face remains straight.

“And destroying your furniture will fix that; how?”

“Shut up! Shut up, just shut up!”

Smoker lets out another sigh as his cigar puffs out more smoke, and a heavy eyebrow raises at her harsh tone. His face is stern, but a certain tenderness behind his eyes is revealed when he speaks to his daughter

She pushes his shoulder away, but Smoker just grabs her with his other arm again.

"Is that so?" Smoker responds simply. Silence fell after he spoke those words, neither of them saying anything nor moving from their positions.

“I’m sorry…” she mutters

Another gentle sigh escapes his lips as she does this. His rough exterior fades for a moment as he speaks to her. His eyes no longer piercing through her own, now much more warm and kind.

"It okay,” he grunts

“Come with me; I have someone I want you to meet.”

She dries her tears slowly, standing up

“Who is it?”

"Just follow me." He rises back to his feet, the same look in his eyes once more as he holds out his hand for her to take.

He guides her off the boat, where they walk for a while until they reach an office within some Marine headquarters, closing the door behind them once she is inside.

"My, my, what a young beauty she is, Smoker..." Fujitora said kneeling in front of Reader.

“You must be around ten right now aren’t you”, smiling as a small affirmation leaves the girl.

“Last time, you were but a baby." The blind admiral grins, tapping the end of his cane against the ground.

"I am Issho; many people call me Fujitora; however, you may do so too if you so desire.”

“Umm, hi,” she mutters, hiding behind her father’s legs

“She’s just a little timid” Smoker remarks as he turns to Issho, nodding slowly at him.

A small gesture, as always, placing a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

“Why are we here?” she mumbles

The tall man sighs once again and moves closer to his daughter.

He crouches down to her level again and takes hold of her shoulders with both hands.

"Reader, the man standing there, he is a Marine like me. And he is also blind.”

Reader stills at that and turns around towards Fujitora, using her devil fruit to locate him easily

“You’re also blind?”

Issho smiles widely, putting his cane down on the ground as his eyes shine.

"Yes, I am."

The admiral's smile fades as an eyebrow arches. A small hand finds its way into his and is immediately swallowed into his hand like a grain of sand.

"I don't believe I've ever met a child with a devil fruit, let alone a logia type." He chuckles softly

“Mind telling me what you are capable of?

“I...I use it to sense everything around me,to ‘see,’ but I can only do that when im on land; when I go on the ship with Dad, I become useless.”

Smoker's face softens once more as she explains herself to his coworker

"I am sorry to hear you feel useless when you cannot sense anything. However, I can assure you that you are not. It is simply a limitation that you have, but I believe you can overcome it. Do you want to know a secret?" Fujitora asks her

She nods timidly but remembers that the man before her had the same affliction as her

“Y-Yeah”

"You are more than just a devil fruit. No matter what you may lack, you still have feelings, a will of your own, and loved ones. Those things are the most important part of being human. Never forget that, young one. We should meet up later so I can discuss your training a little more in-depth. I promise you that we will find a way to make you feel more confident in yourself. Just don't give up, and never lose sight of the truly important things. I know it’s scary to be truly blind in an already dark world, but I promise you, you will get through this; I will help you.”

She stares at the man before her for a minute, tears starting to fall from her eyes as she sniffles, nodding her head

“Thank you,” she cries hugging him

Smoker smiles as her daughter embraces Fujitora , finally finding a mentor she can relate to

“Thank you,” he grumbles to Fujitora

Fujitora nods his head, his expression remaining stoic despite the kindness and affection being shown towards him

"No need to thank me. If I can do anything at all to help her overcome these struggles, it is my duty as her mentor, after all. I must prepare her to be the very best marine that she can be, even if that means I have to make some special arrangements for her."

“Mentor?”

“Fujitora is gonna teach you how to use and master Kenbunshoku Haki,” Smoker said, blowing smoke from his cigars once again

“…I have not mastered the use of it; it will help you ‘see’ even without your devil fruit, so you will be able to find your way even when you are not on land,” he finishes, taking another puff

She grins, turning around towards her dad and jumping into his arms

“Thank you, Dad! For always helping me and not giving up.”

Smoker remains silent for a moment, as if surprised by his daughter's sudden affection toward him. He then wraps his arms around her and pulls her in tight. It’s the fondness for her was clear, although his usual reserved and aloof demeanor din’t really allow for much overt affection

"You're welcome. Should we head out? I think you’ll have a busy day tomorrow.”

She nods, turning her head back to Fujitora

“Bye-bye Fujitora! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Funitora nods, smiling at her genuinely way before saying goodbye

"Farewell, little one, you were a pleasure to meet. Rest assured that you are in the best of hands."

This is much better, sorry y’all it was killing me inside that I made such a bad piece to the point of having to delete it and deleting a request by doing so.

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

[zoropookie]

OHH DID I TALK ABOUT HOW MYCH SCARA WITH A TOUNGE PIERCING MADE ME

BLUSH, GUYS IM FEELING THINGS I MEAN HAHA HEHE..

Please more. JUST HIS TOUNGE PIERICNG

“He’s being a whore.” You whined to your friends as you met up with all of them either sitting or standing talking with each other. “I should have never told him to get that piercing.”

“He still has that tacky thing? Yeesh.” Hu Tao’s eyes narrowed. “Gold is more of his color than silver.”

“Okay, I disagree, but anyway—”

“I’ve never seen Kuni wear gold…not that it’s a thought I want to see, but an observation on his…lack of fashion?” Thoma tilted his head. “I digress…what’s going on?”

Your eyes dulled. “Anyway. He’s been really blowing me off all party and shoving his piercing in everyone’s face like a stupid beast of a man. Makes me sick.” Your eyes moved towards him standing in place in the corner, trying to make himself invisible. “Attracting people I’ve never even seen before.”

Lumine’s eyebrows furrowed. “Yeah, uh,” Her eyes widened, struggling to say something. “He’s sure reeling em’ in. Pussy magnet.”

“I know, right? It’s sickening.” You nodded in agreement, despite Lumine scoffing and rolling her eyes.

“Go.” The blond gave you a nudge in his direction. “If I watch him make himself any less inconspicuous, he’ll end up just buying camo pants to make it easier.”

Your shoulders dropped, thinning your lips before sighing dramatically again and throwing your hands into the air before turning to approach your boyfriend. He looked severely uncomfortable the more you noticed his face, and started to feel a pinch in your gut that you were probably wrong.

“Something bothering you?” You asked awkwardly, clearing your throat and avoiding eye contact.

He scanned you almost, a halfhearted hum as a response to your question. He seemed like he was struggling as much as you were. “I can name a few things.”

You were too enamored every time he spoke to you, looking at his tongue and spotting the small steely glint that he exposed. Under the party lights, it was probably more entrancing, but since the two of them were also in a pretty dim room it was more nerve wracking. “Like…”

“If you’re not going to pay attention, unimportant.” He raised an eyebrow, “You put me up to this, this is your idea and you’re going to reap the consequences.”

“Dunno…reaping more of a reward than anything.” Your eyes glossed, feeling the butterflies roam in your stomach and create knots. “This feels really dirty. I feel like I need to lock you away right now.”

“Oookay, fucking weirdo. I was here for moral support, but I’m calling it a night. If you need me to pick you up, I will, but it’s fine if you ask your friends—” He said while he was prepping himself to leave, but as he turned his body, you grabbed his arm.

“I was serious about reaping the reward,” Your voice thinned. “Put your tongue down my throat. I want to feel it.”

At first he paused at the sudden and severely grand display, his eyes flickered in slight amusement at the irony of your attitude. The party buzzed around the two of you but none of the people too occupied of your conversation. “You won’t find much about it appealing.”

“Then that’s for me to know, lucky for you.” Your smile widened. “Don’t tell me about what I like.”

At your smile, he returned one with a low laugh in disbelief. A low laugh that sent the shivers down your spine in an instant. “Hm,” He responded, and leaned in to cup his hand against your neck. “Last thing I do for you tonight. Look at me.”

Your eyes met his at the same time he closed the distance, the previous warm breath on your skin meshing with both of your tongues. The cold shine of metal sensation on his tongue jolting you with satisfaction.

You couldn’t even face your friends again that night.

[vampirzina]

Could you do MK11 Fujin and MK1 Syzoth with a reader who has piercings on her tongue and eyebrow?

tw: she/her (but mostly you) pronouns, mdni, sfw (intended), established relationship, hcs, piercings and the like

notes: i didn’t put a header for this just in case. i also had been racking my brain for fujin content after seeing an edit of him w the caption asking for fic content. i’ll think of more ideas later i swear but for now happy happy happy

masterlist : divider credit

Fujin isn’t a stranger to piercings, at all. He’s seen plenty of them in his time, in all kinds of places—so not the one to judge if she has one either. Fujin finds the piercing on your eyebrow rather cool, having noticed that first about you but doesn’t ask anything about it. But when you stick your tongue playfully out at him once, he can’t help but ask about both of your piercings.

When kisses with Fujin get deep, he tries not to make it obvious that he’s fiddling with your tongue piercing. Not only is it fun, but he loves your reaction when you finally realize. His face is already flushed from the act, but the cheeky smirk he gives you in return makes you playfully huff at him.

Naturally, thoughts wander through Fujin. Though they are mostly innocent, none of them really see the light (carried into the wind rather), out of respect for her, to spare her from the littlest bits of selfishness, and the tiny tiny part of him that fears her response to him—even if it’s not a bad one at all. He rather not play russian roulette with words.

،، ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

Fujin, tangled in the sheets of your shared bed and awaiting you there, watches you at the vanity as you undid your look. You rub the tip of your index over the slightly sore spot of your undone eyebrow piercing, hissing lowly.

Your eyes hurt from today’s work, and all you wanted to do now was just… Rest. You couldn’t not address the white eyes boring into your face, however.

“Before you ask, I’m fine,” you retort, clasping the piercing together. You set it with the rest of your collection. “Just tired.”

“I’d believe you even if you told me that your skin was as colorful as a rainbow, when it is clearly not,” he jested lightly, and you missed the way his eyes flit to your lips. “I was not going to speak. I just wanted to… Look.”

“The right word is stare, I think, but if that’s what you’re doing to me I’ll take it,” you stood, strutting over to the bedside. Before you got in, “You look like you have a question.”

He hummed a bit. Then, “None.”

“You sure?” you lift the very same brow he’d been staring at, getting comfortable beside him, but suddenly your gaze hardens. “Wait, don’t tell me. If we’re getting married, don’t you dare propose right now.”

Fujin gives the heartiest laugh you’ve heard from him yet, leaning down to barrage you with kisses as he gets comfortable with you.

───

Fujin needs to kiss you at least once a day.

Syzoth doesn’t think anything of it until he really sees it. He notices it when he’s close to her, cuddling into warmth to duck from the cold night. Maybe it’s his wandering mind as he gets tired, but to say he’s intrigued in it in its entirety is a bit of an understatement from him. If anything, he finds that he likes it on her. Of course he asks about it when you wake, and he feels a bit stupid for not asking earlier. Syzoth asks why and how bad it hurt, and that’s about it. If you’re human, he learns something new when you tell him about the commonality of it between humans.

Kissing Syzoth is an experience you couldn’t get over. Unlike Fujin, he doesn’t toy with your tongue piercing on purpose, but he’s going to brush over it a couple times if the kiss gets all that heated. He’s conscious of himself and many things after that, but surprisingly enough, your piercing there makes him feel a little less conscious of his tongue when he kisses you.

Syzoth offers you jewelry for your piercings. He’s sure somewhere in Outworld and beyond there’s those who sell such things, sometimes he even confuses earrings for them. But once he finds the right stuff, it’s nearly impossible for him to not buy up the entire store. He loves to collect the shiniest and prettiest ones he thinks you’ll like, and occasionally the ones he thinks you would look good with. Syzoth comes home with at least a pair of either or once every few weeks.

،، ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

He finds you where he left her—under a tree in the shade from the sun. She sipped the cool drink as she admired the scenery of the place around her.

You’d been wandering with Syzoth through the markets of Outworld for your morning and the better half of your afternoon. Your feet ached, you complained, and being the gentleman Syzoth is carried you here. He said that you’d both go home soon… However, he wasn’t going until he snuffed out the urge by just giving into it.

“About time. I was starting to think you were halfway across the realm. Where’d you run off to?” you squinted in the soft breeze, lips pursing a bit as you watch him fumble with the bag he was trying to give you.

…You look inside.

“I didn’t buy the whole store this time,” Syzoth pouted from her months-old tease. “With the way they were presented to me, they practically begged me to buy them. Not only that, but they were so you-esque. How could you want me to resist?”

“Because I’d like to think you’d want to buy food to eat, Sy,” you joked, holding them in a hand to inspect them. You can see the way he pouts further, if you somehow couldn’t hear him mutter.

“‘M kidding. Do you think that I’m so ungrateful when I was lucky enough to find you?” you immediately follow up to put him at ease. “They’re absolutely gorgeous, Syzoth. Thank you. I’ll try them on when we get home, okay?”

Syzoth, a bit hot in the face now from her flirt, nodded fervently at her. Whether or not she wanted to be carried wasn’t up for debate.

───

Syzoth scours beaches and caves for beautiful material someone can craft into jewelry for you.

@𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐀೨

info board

[bisexualiteaa]

Finding out you have an ✨intimate✨ piercing

CW: suggestive themes and light mentions of smut so 18+ content! Reader is written in a more AFAB orient. Also thank you all for such great receptions on my CoD works, it means the world to get my silly little writings and ideas out and that you all like them so much, so a million times thank you. 🥹🫶

John "Soap" MacTavish

- It was a secret you held from him for a while, having spent years in the force together before finally dating, he hadn't known til now that you had nipple piercings.

- He had seen a few of your other piercings when you would wear jewelry outside of work, like your earrings, a nose ring, even having your eyebrow pierced and a belly ring when you were out and about on a day off, none of those things phased him, they were just a part of you.

- It was when you two had finally taken the next step in your relationship to get intimate for the first time that he had found out, this was the first time he'd ever seen you without a bra.

- As soon as you removed the material from your chest, he was excited to see what laid beneath, and soon shocked to see you had your nipples pierced. He gave a whistle at the sight of your titties that had just grown even more alluring to his eyes.

- "When did ya decide to get that done, hen?" He asked with an intruiged grin, making you look down to see what he was referring to. "Oh these? God it was so long ago, I got them on a stupid dare back in high school. My friends at the time said they'd give me fifty bucks to get it done to prove my pain tolerance" you admitted, making him laugh. "Only fifty bucks?" He asked. "Well originally the bet was I'd only get one done, but mama didn't raise a bitch, so I got both done. The piercing itself was only thirty, so I made twenty bucks out of it. Twenty bucks and friends who'd never question my nuts of steel ever again" you replied making him laugh at the response that seemed sounded so completely like you.

- You on the other hand, couldn't help but see the way he was looking at them, oggling at them as if he was admiring them even more, seeing the look on his face that practically read "wonder what it'd feel like to have them in my mouth."

- "You like them?" You asked with honeyed seduction in your tone, a cheeky grin on your face as you made him snap out of hid own thoughts. "I do, like 'em a lot actually" he answered, stepping closer and placing one of his hands to your breast, his thumb brushing over your pebbled nipple, making you give a sigh at the sensitive feeling. "Heard they can make ya more sensitive" He started to say, his accent thicker now as his own voice took on a deeper octave, lascivious intent laced in his tone. "Care to find out?" You asked with a grin, making him loop his other arm around you to pull you close. "You bet I fuckin' would" he answered before leaning down to wrap his lips around the other nipple. You gave a moan, leaning your head back as he started to suck on it, earning a plethora of lovely sounds from you.

- Needless to say, he was definitely a fan of these piercings too, enjoying this new information about you and the things he could do with it, he loved the way they were so sensitive and made you make such beautiful sounds for him.

König

- You knew this little stunt would definitely shock König when he came home from his mission in the next couple of months, giving the jewelry ample time to heal before he was able to catch sight of it in action.

- "got a little surprise for you when you come home~" you'd text him one day, giving him absolutely no context, but reading the message alone was enough to make his mind run rampant. Had you bought a new outfit? Some lingerie to surprise him in when he got home? Did you get him something he told you about? Oh how this poor man's mind was reeling from all the possibilities.

- So when the couple of months passed and he finally made it home, he'd almost forgotten all about it, happy to just see you after going months out in the field without getting to hear from you except for periodically.

- That was, until you were on your knees in front of him, his dick heavy on your tongue as you circled it around his tip before taking him in your mouth, that he felt something a little different.

"Maus? What- Scheiße...what is that?" He asked through moans, making you giggle as he looked down at you. "Your surprise, liebe" you answered sweetly, sticking your tongue out to show him the jewelry before you gave a long lick up the expanse of his cock, teasing the sensitive spot under his tip with your piercing. "You like it?" You asked with a cocky grin, knowing by the way he was moaning and practically melting at your every touch that he did, but you needed to hear him say it.

- "Ja, I like it a lot liebling" he replied, his hand carding through your hair, keeping it away from your face as your lips wrapped around him, taking him in as deep as you could as your hand wrapped around what you couldn't fit.

- He definitely made it clear how much he liked it, from the way he would kiss you with far more tongue now just to feel it against his own, to the way he would get more excited than before when you would get on your knees to please him, or even anytime you'd run your tongue along his skin, he swore it was his new favorite feeling.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

- You were embarrassed when he found out that you had a clit piercing, knowing the reason behind why you had gotten it done, even though he hadn't known yet.

- You had it before meeting Simon, having been in a couple of relationships before meeting him. The jewelry was a need for you after your previous relationships, due to your former partners and their lack of abilities in making you finish.

- You and Simon had sex before, so you knew thankfully, even if you hadn't had the jewelry, he was finally the one to break the cycle. But anytime you knew you were going to get intimate with him, you'd take it out beforehand and pray he wouldn't be too observant of the area so he wouldn't know.

- So when you forgot to take it out one day, caught by surprise by him coming home early from the field without telling you, your anxiety began to get the better of you as things turned intimate.

- It made you incredibly nervous and embarrassed the moment he went down on you and found the jewel peaking from your clit, and had he not been between your legs, you'd have shut them if you could.

- "What's this you've got here?" He asked, knowing damn well what it is, but he enjoyed teasing you too much, especially when you were in a more shy and submissive mood. "A piercing..." You let out, hiding your face as you admitted to it, and by the tone he knew he needed to let up and check on you.

- "What's wrong, love? Do you not want to do this?" He asked, worried that perhaps he had pushed things when you weren't in the mood, or maybe misjudged your signals. "No, no! It's not that at all, I want this I just.." You started to say before giving a sigh and trying to collect your thoughts and courage. "I'm just embarrassed to have it" you admitted, making him come back up to be level with you. "Why?" He asked, genuinely curious as to why you'd get something like that, then be embarrassed of it. "Because...if I'm honest, the people I had been with before you, weren't good" you started, feeling a little more at ease to open up to him. "So I got it when I was single, before I met you, to help me finally have a chance to experience an orgasm for once in my fucking life when I'd have sex, instead of having to fake it and take matters into my own hands later" you admitted, making him chuckle at your admission that he felt was completely valid. Little did you know, you'd just sky rocketed his ego in telling him he's the first person to make you cum.

- "You don't need to be ashamed love, I'd be pissed too if a shit back like that didn't make me cum" he said, making you giggle at his blunt words of reassurance, but that was Simon, and you took comfort in knowing he didn't hate it. "You don't mind it? I can take it out if you'd prefer" you asked. "I think it's a good look on you" he replied honestly, his fingers gently circling your clit, making you moan and clutch at the sheets beside you as you delighted in his touch. "I'd say I feel sorry for the poor bloke you got this for who missed out.." he mused, trailing his lips down your stomach, then all the way down until he was once again situated between your legs, mouth just centimetres from your aching cunt. "But I don't" he finished, placing a light, open mouthed kiss to your clit, making you buck your hips in reaction. "Legs open for me love, let me show you how much I like it, yeah?" He asked, watching you nod your head yes before devouring you like you were his last meal.

- He made damn sure that after that night, you weren't ashamed of it anymore.

[two-white-butterflies]

THE ALCOTT - a. targaryen

You tell me your problems (Have I become one of your problems?)

Description: As Rhaenyra's oldest daughter — you were expected to marry for the gain of your mother's fraction. Aemond Targaryen sees you in Winterfell, your heart feels like jumping out of your chest.

When the snow falls and the white wind blows. The lone wolf dies but the pack survives. Winterfell was colder than you expected, as a lady far used to the warmth of a dragon — it blew your mind how northerners lived in never-ending snow. The guards were cautious of your dragon. He was known as the Cannibal, who preyed on every animal — even those of its own kin. At the same time, you couldn't help but notice their lack of fear, like they were used to seeing dragons this big. "My princess!" Cregan came quick to your side.

The sides of your lips turned upwards, heart heaving with joy at the sight of the man you trusted like a brother. The sight of him made you less worried about war. "My lord," you smiled while wrapping your arms around him, aware of the fact that you stink of dragon and ash. "My mother, the Queen Rhaenyra, extends her gratitude for offering Winterfell as a safe haven." you breathed a sigh of relief, as the dragonkeepers began to usher your dragon away to safety.

Losing the war was your biggest fear. There was no doubt in your mind that your uncle, Aegon the Usurper, will execute you if you ever decide to surrender. He takes a deep breath, carrying a heavy burden on his back. "It is not much of a safe haven as you believe." he stares at you from the side, his hand was placed upon the small of your back — leading you inside of his warm castle.

"What do you mean?" you asked, eyebrows bumping into each other. Winterfell and Kingslanding were your second home, the thought of either betraying you was stupid, yet the latter managed to do so. "Fellow northerns lords have spoken about your house falling from grace. The house of the dragon does not know who rules it —" he explains but you interrupt him in annoyance.

"My mother is the Queen, my uncles are mere usurpers who stand against the throne." you correct, nose scrunching in disbelief. Shame flooded your features. The house of the dragon does now know who rules it, but you do it was fire and blood — the same two that will consume the Hightowers with avarice. "Not everyone believes that." he retorts, you take your gloves off — freezing at the sight of ... Aemond Targaryen. Your uncle, whose aided your sorrows for seventeen years in Kingslanding. Has he come to murder you now?

"My lord, if you wish to offer your loyalties to the Usurper. You are free to do so — but attempting to ambush me?" you accuse, he places a hand on your shoulder, Cregan's eyes staring deep into your own. Your mother called him 'sweet-summer boy' for he was born in the longest summer. He was sweet and kind, but also cold and dangerous. There was no doubt in your mind that he would execute you in the name of the greater good.

"I am not here to hurt you, sister. He arrived here a fortnight ago, offering his hand for one of my cousins to marry but I declined him, because I know that his brother is an usurper who does not deserve the throne. Gods be good, if I allowed a drunken charlatan to ever become king." Cregan's eyes pierced into Aemond's soft skull. He takes a deep breath, eyes trailing away from the Prince he welcomed into his home. "But my council does not offer the same sentiments." he scratches his nose, eyes pulsing with rage. Cregan Stark was loyal to your mother.

"And you thought that it was appropriate to welcome him here? When I am set for a visit?" you questioned, playing with the dagger inside your pocket. You couldn't trust anyone, not the lord beside you nor the uncle who has been with you for seventeen years.

"I am not here for him, my niece. I am here for you?" he admits, breaking the thick wall of ice. His good eye stared at you, lips puckered and pink from the cold. The man that you loved was gone, there were only mere traces of him left. "Are you still mad because of your eye?" you question, taking on a stance for fight. You were well trained in warfare, equipped enough to take his only eye.

"I've long forgiven you, but my sister?" he chuckles for a few seconds, lips smirking at the thought of Rhaenyra. "But still, we are merciful — return home. We'll imprison your mother in Dragonstone, your brothers will be cupbearers and squires for the King. And you, my lovely niece, we'll find a match worthy." he offers, laying out the terms in a way that seemed appetizing.

You stared at him. Blinking, but not thinking.

"Which side are you on?" he finishes, taking a step forward. He was a few feet away, but you could see him perfectly. He had a neat stubble, his left-eyebrow had a thin horizontal line on the center. He has aged more in three-months than he has ever had in his entire life. "The last thing I want is to be on your side." you insult through gritted teeth, Cregan stares at the both of you back and forth.

"No harm will come to the both of you under my roof. My princess, I'm sure that you are tired of all the traveling, it is best to retire. And my prince, the finest wines need your tasting down the Great Hall." Cregan tilts his head to the other door, pulling you away before you could ever start a fight.

----

The owls were chirping outside of your window, nocturnal animals prowling at night for their next prey. He knocks on your door, body standing rigid in front of your window. "My princess," he whispers, trying his best not to awake Cregan whose room was parallel yours.

Your hands reach the door, hands twisting to open the door-knob. You trusted Cregan's promise of no harm coming to you. It was favorable, for you wouldn't be hurt but the same thing couldn't be promised to your uncle.You meet his eye.

A Lavender Lazuli eye that showed you spectrums of different colors. "Aemond," you answered with no respect. No respect is given to rebels. "Go home with me." he offered and you leaned on the door-frame. His voice was low, breath stinking of ale — his eye was downcast and filled with melancholia. He missed you, but you weren't sure of feeling the same with him.

"My home is in Dragonstone. It is where I was born." you replied curtly, lips pressing into a thin line. He placed a hand on the doorframe, stopping you from shutting the door on his face. "Your mother is not the rightful heir. A woman can't hold into power, not in our times." he rasped, earning an eye-roll from you.

You are Rhaenyra's heir. The Queen after her.

"Not in this world yes, but we have always been queer with our customs. In Valyria, women can rule without fight — are you not Valryian, dear uncle?" you taunt, playing at the thought of his Hightower blood. You were not the daughter of Harwin Strong. You were either of Laenor or Daemon's. But one thing was certain, Valyria flooded your veins more than it did to him.

"That is not what I mean." he breaths.

"We waste too much time in fighting this damn war! I'm losing you, qogralbar ziry" he cursed, fist bumping into the wall beside him. Fuck it. He thought about taking you, and marrying you. "You are losing me because of your pride. Your belief of women being incapable of ruling." you rolled your eyes, walking away from him — but he takes ahold of your forearm, pulling you back in front of him.

"I do not think that you are incapable of ruling, I merely believe that your mother should lay down her arms and accept my brother as king." he asserted, keeping his hands on you. "The first thing you desire, is the last thing I could ever dream of." you scoff, pushing him away from you.

By this point, you were both outside of your room — feet barely stepping over the line that divided your room and the hallway. "That is our problem!" he raised his voice slowly. You bite the inner corner of your lips, imagining his murder. "I am one of your problems, uncle." you reply taking a step backward, returning inside your room.

You were just about to close the door, but he collapses unto you — knocked out by the strong northern ale. "I want to forget you." he mumbles before closing his eyes.

taglist: @scarwicht@nyctophilic0vitnir@witch-of-letters

[equallyshaw]

star crossed loves au | connor bedard x kailey hughes au ↳ slowly, but surely. ↳ au masterlist!

warnings: angst, anxiety attack, swearing etc. also this takes place in feburary after his jaw fracture! word count: 2.2k. - longer than i expected lol

"do you wanna come to my game?" was a simple question, and one of innocence. kailey would give it that, but the deep feeling of dread was felt rather too quickly for her liking. she looked away from connor as the two were finishing up breakfast, hoping he wouldn't notice the uneasiness that plagued her features. he did. the two had been inseparable since new years, and had became official only a few days afterwards. ofcourse, he'd see the tension that sprang up in her features, the inability to look at him - especially in the eye - and the way that he body seemed to be folding in on itself. she stood up abruptly, bringing the plate back into the kitchen, and connor watched with a million questions buzzing around. she came back in and sat down, swirling her lukewarm coffee. "i um, i cant go." she said staring down the place mat. his eyebrows furrowed, "can't or won't go?" he questioned, hoping for some clarification. she made direct eye contact with him and gave him a small frown, "i wish i could go, i really do. but i can't bring myself to." she said bringing the last of the once hot liquid to her mouth. he shook his head, "you have to tell me what that means kails." he said setting down his fork now.

she sighed, setting the mug down. "i vowed to myself long ago that i'd never go to another hockey game in my life, let alone step into a rink once more." she paused sniffling, "that game ruined my childhood and my relationships with the rest of my family." she said and it felt like a dagger piercing his heart. "then why, why did you agree to be my girlfriend if you can't stand what i do?" he questioned without a second thought, and he could see how much it hurt the blonde. she made a tsk noise, "i can respect and support what you do from afar connor. but y'know now that you say that, why did i say yes? why did i say yes when i knew that i wouldn't be able to listen to the sound of skates hitting the ice when it really mattered? even if it was the stanley cup final, i wouldn't be able to do it because of how much it would make me sick." she finished, standing up and heading towards his condo door. "wait kail-" she cut him off with the front door opening. she stood between the threshold, looking back at connor. "you're right connor, how can i support you when i cant even support my own brothers?" she asked rhetorically before stepping full into the hallway and towards the elevator. as soon as she hit the elevator, she quickly began to cry while hunching over with her eyes shut. connor stood with his mouth agape, unsure if he should go after her or let her go. how could he let her go, when besides hockey- she was the thing he was most sure about in his life?

_

becca kaileys roommate and longtime best friend, could tell something off that morning when kailey came back to the apartment in a fit of rage. "what'd they do now?" kailey questioned, thinking her brothers said something stupid. "not them, him." she responded beginning to pace. "but its my fault, im the one who said yes without telling him i cant watch hockey. im the one who has wasted his time because why the hell would he date somebody who cant walk into an arena without throwing up?" she blurted as becca stood up, concern lacing her gaze. "hey kails? wanna sit down?" she questioned softly, wrapping her arms gently over her the blonde's. kailey immediately began to break down again, completely folding into becca's figure.

hockey was something that was seldom spoken about in the apartment. it was not off limits per se, but it was to be treaded lightly. unfortunately, kailey held a great amount of disdain for the sport and if it was mixed in with her brothers, it was a double whammy and usually ended in an anxiety attack. sure, she'd been to therapy for her childhood, jack and the topic of of hockey had come up many times. it was the reason why she was plucked away from her budding life in toronto, because they wanted the family to be with jack and usa hockey. it was why everything and everyone that she adored, was taken away from her. so she set up boundaries, and that meant no hockey. besides quinn's debut, no debut for luke or jack. no playoff games, nada nothing. her parents had respected her choice, and with the backing from her therapist - so did the rest of the family. this was something she didn't tell connor when they were talking during break before new years, because she knew that it would scare him away. just like it had now.

kaileys thoughts were interrupted, by a loud knock on their apartment door. "ill be right back." becca announced, standing up and walking towards the door. "ill be in my room." kailey responded, barely audible but becca picked it up. as soon as kailey was out of view, she opened the door to connor. who looked distraught, angry and sad all at the same time. "um hello?" becca said and connor opened the door, pushing his way inside. "where is she?" he asked flustered, and becca sighed. he met becca's gaze and snapped in her face, "becca, where is she?" he repeated and becca stood their in a shocked state. before becca could respond, they both heard a sob or more like a wrenching cry from kailey's bedroom. connor wasted no minute shoving off his shoes and throwing his jacket on becca, before heading down the hallway. becca could only chuckle in response, before sending him a salute as a joke and one that he didn't see. "go get em." she mumbled, before putting his stuff down.

connor knocked on the door before opening it, and as he opened it he found kailey on her bed. her head was in her hands and hunched over. his heart absolutely broke as he walked over, and sat beside kailey pulling her into his body. "its ok kails, I've got you." he whispered, repeating it every few seconds. "im not mad or upset, i promise." he whispered after a few minutes. her sobbing began to quiet down, but her breathing was still too heavy for his liking. "but you were right." she said after about ten minutes. he looked down and shook his head, "i was not right." he stated boldly. she pulled away from his chest, looking at him properly now. "you were right, why should i be your girlfriend if i cant support you on a nightly basis? its not fair to you con, its not." she said running a hand through her hair. "so what?" he questioned, and she looked at him. "so what? you matter more than hockey. yeah we may have only known each other for a month now, but I've never been more sure about somebody or something in my life besides hockey. you and our relationship im so sure about, ask any of the guys. they probably would tell you that im so disgustingly annoying." he mused causing her to giggle softly. "i promise that just because you choose not to watch hockey, doesn't mean that im gonna break up with you." he argued and she chuckled. "you don't like me enough to say and do that." she said rolling her eyes, and he shook his head. "no, i love you that's why." he confessed and she slowly looked back towards him. "wait...what?" she asked, barely breathing. he grinned before smiling, "i love you kailey clara and what are you gonna do about that?" he mused causing her to blush. she breathed in heavily why playfully rolling her eyes, "i can either kick you out or tell you that i love you back." she hummed, leaning closer towards him. "thankfully for you, its the latter." she hummed staring down his lips before pulling him in for a passionate and deep kiss.

the two pulled away after about ten seconds, pressing their foreheads against one another's. "as long as you say you're my number one fan we'll be good. this cements everything." he joked causing her to giggle. "you cheeky boy! but yes, good thing ill be your number one fan as long as you have me." she grinned before they kissed once more.

later on in the afternoon as the two cuddled with one another after connor's nose found solace in kaileys neck, the blonde spoke up. "i promise connor, to open myself up to hockey. i promise im going to try, ok?" she questioned turning around to face him. he had a small hopeful smile grace his features, "slowly but surely kails." he hummed before pulling her into his chest and placing a kiss on her head.

_

it was two weeks later, and after a black graphic t-shirt of connor came in- her and becca were off to a game against the florida panthers. the two walked arm and arm towards the 300's section wanting to experience it in the 'trenches' kailey had always called them, and experience it with some die hard fans. and, far enough away that nobody on the team or their partners would recognize her. she wanted to surprise connor.

"i feel like i could vomit." she confessed, sitting next to becca who only gave her an encouraging smile. "the game's underway, maybe that'll distract?" she questioned and kailey could only laugh in response. the two's attention focused on the game, and some point during it she had sent a text to not only tessa, alex vlasics girlfriend but her mom as well, sealing it with a picture of her view. her mom and dad gushed and sent words of encouragement and tessa begged for her to meet them after the game in the wags and family box. to which kailey responded, was a tba. the blackhawks ended up wining 3-1 with connor getting a goal and two assists. and with being on somewhat of a high, she told tessa that they would meet her in the 200's section. tessa stood their waiting for them and as soon as she saw them, she began to jump up and down with excitement. "im so happy you're here!!!" tessa gushed, pulling kailey in for a huge hug. she then moved towards becca and the two of them hyped the youngest hughes up. "oh my god, stopppp." she said blushing. "can you not, were in public you two." as the two girls highfived each other. "what?! this is a big deal girlfriend. you made it through the entire game." becca said shaking the girl just a bit. tessa's phone dinged with a text from alex, him and connor were walking towards the box now.

"get your ass in there, now." tessa demand pointing back towards the box door and becca quicky pulled her inside. becca smiled and waved to some of the girl's she had met at new years with kailey, and they were all happy to see kailey. finally. "im nervous beccs." kailey said in a whisper and becca smiled, "he'll be happy to see you chica." she smiled down at her best friend who only nodded.

kailey heard his voice before she saw him, and once becca looked behind her she turned around. connor hadn't taken notice yet but once tessa made a nonchalant comment, he quickly looked around the now - desolate- room and then his eyes landed on her. she smiled softly, once their eyes connected. he smiled, and then made his way over ot the girl. he pulled her in for a big hug without a word, his nose finding the crook of her neck. "hi pretty girl." he whispered, and she found herself blushing like a fool. "hey superstar." she grinned, before he pulled back a bit to look at her. then he noticed the t-shirt and he smiled, taking a step back to inspect it. "oh, i brought it just for this occasion." she grinned making him chuckle just a bit. "its my face." he said a bit stunned, "it is your face." becca said monotoned which made kailey snicker. "its alright, he's got a pretty face." she teased, "a pretty face, huh?" they heard Phillip kurashev tease and that made connor roll his eyes. "pretty pretty connor!" kevin joined in causing more chuckles to arise, "lets go pretty boy!" mackenzie entwistle teased, and kailey smiled softly.

"come on pretty boy." she teased, beginning to walk out with everybody else. "i should put that as your new name in my phone." becca mused, typing away on her phone. "i swear to god becca if you do!" connor threatened playfully, "you'll what?" she grinned back. "ill tell your little secret..." connor began only for becca to hear and that made becca grow quiet. "you wouldn't dare,🖕🏻" she texted and connor only giggled in response as they walked towards connor car.

so what secret, connor baby? lmao

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