#hm. maybe funny is not the right word. but still

[mierins]

putting the yass in yassou // gojo x reader; drabble

Weirdly Specific Short Drabble Scenario #1: Teaching Gojo how to Greek Dance

Rating: T Word Count: 997 Additional Notes: Brief NoriMai as context as requested by @ripstefano. Reader is an amateur/retired professional dancer. Kind of caved into the stereotype of Greek stuff by putting Greek friezes as dividers I'm so sorry.

You are Formally Invited To the Wedding of Kamo Noritoshi & Zen'in Mai

15 June 2026

Corfu, Greece

"Huh," I murmur, peering at the invite-- somewhat unsure whether or not it had found its intended recipients at all-- but nope, there's my name and Satoru's emblazoned in gold foil on the front of the envelope.

Granted, I wasn't even aware we knew them well enough to get a wedding invite in the mail, but then again, with the names, it made sense-- get someone from each of the Big Three clans there.

"Hm?" My husband, bowl of ice cream in hand, deposits his chin onto my shoulder, peering down at the paper in my hands-- thick cardstock, calligraphied, with the scent of something woodsy, yet floral. "Damn-- I didn't know they were like that."

I snorted, slotting the card back into the envelope and carefully sorting it into my important mail stack on the kitchen counter. "No-- they were. You were just too busy saving the world to notice."

Satoru pouts a little, making a whining noise that emulated that of a dejected puppy. "Still, though-- look at all of the youngins, gettin' hitched and everything. Makes me feel old."

I sigh wistfully, leaning back against him. "Isn't it good to grow old in your line of work?"

He burrows further into my hair, nose poking at a particularly ticklish spot on my neck. "Yeah." His voice is muffled.

"You big baby," I say, but without any bite, attempting to shrug him off-- a futile endeavour that only served to make him cling to me harder.

"C'mon, we have to figure out if we're going to RSVP," I tell him.

"Why Greece? Isn't that a bit far?" he wonders out loud.

"Baby, we eloped on a mission to Hokkaido," I remind him, amused. Money isn't really an object-- what with Satoru's inheritance and everything. He's just nosy. And as for the why-- "It's pretty obvious they don't want their clans getting their noses stuck in the wedding planning."

"Huh," he says, emerging from his sanctuary of my neck. "I guess that does make sense."

"Says here they have a discount on the resort," I note. "And they want to know if anyone else wants to do cruise tours of the island so they can book ahead of time-- and ooh, they're bringing in a Greek band for the reception."

"Oh?" Satoru perks up a bit at the mention of a cruise tour. "D'you think they'll have dinner on the cruise tour? And didn't you learn some dances before?"

I did, for a year-long cultural dance module from my university days. "A bit-- but the main party dance will be the kalamatiano line dance anyways. Maybe the zeibekiko too as a slower freestyle for the finale."

"It's all Greek to me anyways," he jokes, and I playfully swat at his shoulder, something he can block with ease with Infinity.

"You--"

"Noo, I'm sorry baby," he pouts, holding his hands up in the universal gesture of defeat, and turning his puppy eyes on me at the same time.

His gaze is softer these days-- without the scintillating glare of the Six Eyes that feels like he's scrutinizing me down to my bones.

"Wanna teach me the dances?"

I abandon my bloodthirsty rampage immediately-- Satoru knew my catnip was dancing. Always had been. Even when I had been forced to quit by my clan, citing a need for more sorcerers during Sukuna's rampage across Japan. And by the time peace came back around, I'd spent my body on the fight against curses-- bad right knee, weak left ankle, an ache in my lower back that came back every time I slept funny-- and I knew even before Shoko came back with the results, that I would never dance professionally ever again.

It had been Satoru, of all people who was able to comfort me--

I know what it's like to lose your purpose and passion.

He'd sacrificed Six Eyes to defeat Sukuna.

And so, in the aftermath of a war against curses, we learned to be human together.

"One, one, two, One, one, two, One, one two," I count out for him-- our hands joined, the living room furniture cleared off to the side.

He's grinning at me. I don't think he's paying any attention to the steps.

It's almost a little flattering, the way he looks like I've hung the moon and stars in the sky, even though we're dressed in our PJs in a bare living room, and I'm trying to teach him enough that we could get along well with the locals at the wedding in June.

"Lead with your right foot, then left foot behind," I note, "then right foot again-- baby, are you even listening?"

He leans forward and presses a kiss to my hand where our fingers are linked together. "'F'course," he murmurs.

Despite myself, I blush a little, and flirt right back by opening his palm to kiss his hand. "Okay-- and then every step after that will be to the front, till the count of seven."

"Mhm," he's rubbing at the skin over my knuckles.

"And then you step forwards, eight, then rock back, nine, and bring your left foot back ten," I continue, guiding our steps around the living room. "Then right foot back for eleven, and rock back twelve, and then repeat--"

"I think I have it," he says.

I don't expect anything less-- even without his Six Eyes, Gojo Satoru wants to be known as a prodigy. And I believe him, even though he's been spending more of the lesson looking at my face, than at the steps I'm demonstrating. Because Gojo Satoru is competitive enough to want to be the best at anything he can still get his hands on the title of-- husband, lover, and apparently now, Greek dancer.

"Music?" I ask him.

He grins. "Sure. Turn it into a party, just for the two of us."

[thetomorrowshow]

love is such a drag - ch. 8

chapter title: either Grian or Scar is the most oblivious person in the world and I'm really not sure which one

sorry about the long wait, please enjoy!

~

Technically, they aren’t allowed to do wheelchair races with the rental chair that Scar had gotten to try out. On its insurance, he is the only one allowed to operate it.

That doesn’t stop them from marking a section of the sidewalk with chalk and trading off turns with the chair to see who can get the best time.

“Go!” Ren says, and Scar speeds off, already easily the best at using the chair. Scar’s roommate, Cub, turns to Grian.

The speed at which sweat is suddenly rolling down Grian’s back should easily break a record of some sort.

He’s been avoiding Cub the whole time the four of them have been hanging out. After all, Cub is the only one of this group that has met Grian as—well, as Grian. And Ariana. Other than Scar that time or two, but Scar clearly hadn’t recognized him and Grian’s pretty sure Cub will.

Grian’s been on edge the entire afternoon. While they’ve been in a group, Cub hasn’t said a single word to him. All he’s done so far is vaguely stare at Grian. So basically, it’s confirmed that he knows. Even though he’s passing pretty well, if he does say so himself.

He put a bit of effort into this outfit. He’s gone for a full face of natural make-up and a short, butterfly-patterned skirt. That, paired with a pink jacket and his hair extensions framing his face, really just makes him look more like a girl and less like a drag queen.

But Cub has clearly clocked him, and now the two of them are alone together.

“He really likes you,” Cub says, eyes boring deep into Grian’s lying soul. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like someone this much.”

On the one hand, that makes Grian’s heart give a little flutter. He’s special. He isn’t just the next girl in line that Scar likes, he’s different from the others.

The rest of him floods with something akin to mortifying despair. Scar really, really likes him. He isn’t this way with every other person.

And Grian likes Scar a lot.

What is he supposed to do?

Well, right now he can at least tell something of the truth.

“I like him a lot,” admits Grian. “He’s . . . he’s so passionate, and funny, and such a good listener. He’s everything I’ve never really had in a boyfriend, you know?”

Cub raises an eyebrow. “Scar? A good listener? Hm.”

Grian nods. “Yeah,” he says. “He’s—I really like him.” He’s blushing now, so he cuts himself off before he says something embarrassing like how much he likes Scar’s eyes and the smell of his cologne and the feel of his lips.

“You were mumbling, what was that?”

“Nothing!”

It’s clear as day that Cub does not like him, and even clearer that he knows that Grian’s tricking Scar. If it wasn’t in the look in his eyes as he surveys Grian, it was definitely in his tone when he said hm.

“I don’t want him getting hurt,” Cub says. He stuffs his hands in his coat pockets, looking down on Grian like a stern businessman firing his intern. “So you aren’t gonna do that, right?”

Grian quickly shakes his head, not trusting himself to speak.

“Good,” Cub nods. Then, awkwardly, he adds, “and . . . Scar’s a pretty chill guy. If you haven’t told him . . . something, you probably don’t have anything to worry about.”

Grian blinks.

Cub makes a face where his lips disappear into his mouth.

“Dude, that was only thirty-seven seconds! That’s your best score yet!”

Eager for a distraction from whatever is happening, Grian turns toward Ren and Scar, Scar still in the wheelchair, grinning ear-to-ear.

“Ari, your turn!” Scar calls out to him, accepting Ren’s hand as he helps him into the folding chair that they had set up on the sidewalk.

“I don’t even know how,” Grian protests. Ren grabs his hand nonetheless and drags him to the wheelchair.

“Give it a shot, dudette!”

Maybe this wasn’t the best day to wear a short skirt. Grian can only pray that it doesn’t flip up in the wind.

And then, because he can, Grian pulls away from Ren and leans down to Scar, kissing him quickly on the lips before pulling away.

“Kiss for good luck, yeah?” Grian says, hoping with all his might that he isn’t blushing as badly as he thinks he is. If Ren’s look of utter delight means anything, then he probably is.

“Y-yeah,” Scar stutters, looking like he swallowed his quick tongue as he stares dumbfounded at Grian. Grian tries his best to give him a little grin before sitting in the wheelchair, carefully tucking his skirt between his thighs with shaking hands.

“Um, one more?” Scar asks, his fingers tracing over his own lips. “For luck, of course.”

Grian snorts. “You can have one after I win.”

Now why does he go and say things like that?

(He doesn’t win, obviously. He doesn’t even know how to use the wheelchair.)

(He does kiss Scar again, though.)

-

“We’re in big trouble, guys,” Grian announces at large when he gets home, tossing his keys onto the counter. Mumbo looks up from washing dishes.

“A date?” he asks, the disapproval clear in his voice—which, okay, fair, but Grian really does not need that kind of judgment right now.

“More so hanging out,” he waves off. He toes off his sneakers without undoing the laces and leaves them right in the entryway, sure to annoy Pearl whenever she comes in and accidentally wedges one under the door. “It was fun, but that isn’t the issue. The issue is that I think his roommate knows.”

Mumbo’s mouth twists, his mustache bristling in ways that shouldn’t muscularly be possible. “How is that a problem?”

Unbelievable. Grian stops in his tracks, his coat still half off, and stares at Mumbo as incredulously as he can muster.

“Because he knows,” he says slowly. “He absolutely knows. And we talk about everything, so they probably also talk about everything, so Cub will immediately tell Scar.”

Mumbo stops washing the dishes, setting one last dripping plate into the dish drainer and turning off the water. One last bubble floats over to Grian, but pops before he can reach out to it.

Mumbo doesn’t stop there. He dries his hands with the towel hanging over the oven handle, taking his time to get every particle of water out from in between the cracks of his fingers and palms. He carefully arranges the towel back in its place, laid out as flat as possible, then spends a moment fixing his hair in the faucet’s reflection.

When he’s finally done micromanaging every little thing, Mumbo sighs deeply and rests his arms on the counter separating him and Grian, fixing him with an oddly tired look. “Okay? Then you don’t have to tell him. That’s kind of your whole deal, right? You don’t want to be the one to break the news?”

Grian shrugs his coat off the rest of the way, tossing it onto the couch. “That’s not true at all,” he says. Honestly, that’s so gross of an oversimplification that it’s barely the same issue. “Whether it’s me telling him or someone else, I’m still the one breaking his heart,” he explains. “If I can tell him, I control the narrative. It would be so easy for this Cub character to make me out to be a bad guy, and Scar would totally believe it!”

Another long Mumbo stare. If looks could kill, Mumbo’s wouldn’t. It would probably vaguely hurt, like the sun on a high UV day prickling against one’s skin or a shock from one of those trick handshake buzzers. Do they even make those anymore? Grian hasn’t seen one since he was a kid, and only ever on TV.

“Grian,” Mumbo starts after he’s had his fill of staring, “pardon me for saying this—do you honestly think you’re the good guy?”

That brings Grian up short, fully distracting him from his thoughts of old toy infomercials.

The good guy?

“Well, I—I’m not the bad guy,” he sputters. He isn’t! He’s just doing the best he can to make a bad situation sort of bearable. Is that a bad guy thing? Do bad guys kiss the man they have a crush on? Do bad guys go on dates with him just because they like him? Would bad guys risk everything to find where he lives to make sure he’s okay?

No. No, they wouldn’t do any of that. He isn’t a bad guy—he’s as much of a victim as Scar, if not more! Grian really, really likes Scar, so much that it’s put him in the worst position in the world as he tries to figure out what to do next. Scar just has to sit there for the ride, Grian has to figure out how to drive this thing.

However, with the way Mumbo keeps glaring at him with his vaguely-painful look, Grian has a feeling that he doesn’t agree with that assessment.

“You decided to lead him on from the beginning,” Mumbo accuses, jabbing a finger at him in all but the motion. “You kept it going for free food, date after date after date. You’ve had so many chances to tell him the truth and you didn’t take any of them. You—mate, you kissed him! You went to a Valentine’s Day dance with him and kissed him!”

“Well, I—” Grian has to defend himself from this traitorous turn of events, but he doesn’t even know what to say! It’s like every word has flown out of his body, replaced by the sound of static between his ears. “I—you told me to ghost him! That would’ve been worse!”

“It would’ve been better to abandon him than keep dragging on the kill for weeks!”

Grian scoffs. “Okay, that’s a little dramatic.”

“Is it?” Mumbo laughs a little, almost hysterically. “Is it? Dude, you’re literally like some sort of Sahara desert animal, a—a lion, wounding your prey one leg at a time until it can’t escape you!”

Mumbo pauses. “Well, that’s a bit insensitive of a metaphor,” he says, having the decency to look at least a little ashamed. “I wasn’t talking about—what I mean is that you could have ended this at any time and you’ve chosen not to. Have you even thought about how Scar might feel?”

“That’s the whole problem!” Grian says, voice rising as hot anger rises in his throat. “Of course I’ve thought about how Scar feels, that’s all I’ve thought about!”

That’s why he can’t tell him! He can’t break his heart like that, not after Scar’s so deeply enamored with him—with Ariana. He can’t hurt him.

Mumbo snorts. “Right. Because you definitely aren’t thinking about your own feelings or anything.”

No! He isn’t!

All Grian wants to do is grab a dish from the drainer and chuck it at—at the wall, or at Mumbo, or something. How dare—how dare he? Mumbo’s supposed to be on his side, he’s supposed to help Grian pick out clothes for his dates and commiserate about how hard this whole ordeal is, because last Grian knew he wasn’t the bad guy!

He doesn’t throw anything, though. He turns and storms into the living room, making aborted little punches at his side instead of hitting the wall. “You’re supposed to be my best mate,” he says, and to his unfortunate not-surprise, there’s suddenly tears burning under his eyes. So what, he angry-cries. That just makes him more tender-hearted. At least Mumbo can’t see his eyes, turned away as he is.

“Sometimes your best mate has to set you straight.”

“Yeah, well, neither of us are straight, so that doesn’t really work.”

Behind him, Mumbo lets out a frustrated sigh. Grian keeps looking at the living room wall, the glass sliding doors that lead out to their tiny balcony with the single dead plant sitting in a frozen pot on the railing.

The kitchen tiles creak. Grian doesn’t move, doesn’t let his teeth unclench. If this is Mumbo’s version of support, it’s working worse than a stretched-out bra with the underwire pulled out.

“I’m going to go study,” Mumbo declares haughtily. Finally, Grian turns, sees him standing by the front door, his backpack in his hands. “I’ll see you later.”

Grian doesn’t say anything. He watches as Mumbo sets down his backpack to take his coat from the hanger and swing it on, then pick his backpack back up and open the door.

At the last moment, he turns around, catches Grian’s eye. He’s angry too, Grian notices, his lips pulled in a tight line.

“Cub’s a good chap, by the way,” he says, almost begrudgingly. “But he’ll call it as he sees it.”

Then the door slams closed, and Grian is left alone with his anger and—and other, indiscernible feelings, all roiling together in one big pot.

And he still has to change out of drag.

Perhaps too aggressively, Grian tugs his extensions out of his hair, barely bothering to unclip them before yanking. How was it Mumbo’s business what he did about the Scar situation? Honestly, Mumbo should be glad he was asked for an opinion at all.

Not to mention, Mumbo’s been encouraging him! He helped him pick a Valentine’s outfit, and set up the plan with the study group, and helped him figure out Scar’s address. How on earth can he choose to get all high and mighty now?

“It just came out of nowhere,” Grian reasons aloud, shaking his head.

“Not really.”

Grian probably jumps two feet in the air, his arms going up to instinctively cover his face as a scream tears from his throat. He was alone in the apartment and now he isn’t—

Pearl is standing behind him, an empty glass in her hand. She raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

Grian just tries to get his heartrate down to something resembling normal. “Pearl! I—I didn’t know you were home!”

“You didn’t check.”

Hey, wait a second. “What did you say? About—about the thing with Mumbo?”

Pearl moves away toward the kitchen sink to fill her glass. “I mean, really, Grian. Mumbo’s kind of been against this the whole time. I think he was just building up the courage to tell you.”

Grian can’t pretend that doesn’t hurt. He flops down on the couch, doing his best not to hyperventilate from the heart attack he just had.

It isn’t so much the fact that Mumbo doesn’t agree that hurts, but more that Mumbo was afraid to talk to him about it. Did he expect Grian to blow up in his face? He wouldn’t do that!

Mumbo first was afraid of him, and then betrayed him. Or, rather, both at the same time. And man, it hurts.

“I don’t care,” he tries. Pearl almost chokes on her water.

“I do!”

Grian almost jumps again, his heartrate shooting right back up, as another head pokes out of Pearl’s room. A girl with curly red hair and freckles grins brightly at him.

“Who are you?” Grian demands. The girl giggles.

“I’m Gem,” she says, stepping into the living room and offering him her hand. “I like your breasts.”

“Thanks, I bought them myself,” Grian says reflexively, shaking her hand. Her grip is stronger than he’d expected, squeezing his hand like those people who grip food unreasonably hard and post pictures of it. “Why are you here?”

“We’re studying,” Pearl says. Gem nods.

“I’m totally invested in this whole thing now,” Gem whispers. “I have to give you my Snap, I need to stay updated on this. Please add me to your private story.”

Grian stares at her.

Honestly, maybe Mumbo wouldn’t yell at him if he sent him all his updates through Snapchat.

Maybe someone would finally give him useful advice.

-

“Hey, Scar? Can we talk?”

The good guy that he is, Scar is washing the dishes, the way he always does (even when it isn’t his turn!). He’s just gotten started after zero cajoling from Cub, but if he forgets while having this talk that’ll be on Cub’s head, not his own.

Scar shuts off the water and shakes the droplets off his hands. They used to have a towel hanging around here somewhere, but Scar used it two days ago to try and catch a stray cat and he doesn’t think anyone has replaced it.

“Of course, Cubby,” he says, turning around on his stool to face both Cub and Ren. They’ve been conspiring together on the couch since Scar used the restroom earlier, muttering secret plans in low voices and casting wary glances toward him whenever he looked at them. Now both of them look slightly uncomfortable, like this isn’t a conversation they think they want to have.

They’re probably going to ask him how he treats Ariana, aren’t they? Well, no worries there! He hasn’t done a single ungentlemanly thing toward her since they met. They have nothing to be concerned about in those regards.

Cub exchanges a secret look with Ren, before apparently deciding to take the lead. “Scar, how do you feel about . . . trans people?”

“Well, Cub, that depends on what you mean,” Scar responds, frowning. “Transmitter people? Translators? Transcribers? I think transmitter people sounds kind of like aliens, so I’m going to have to say I don’t feel great about them.”

Cub sighs. “Transgender people.”

Well, this is a little awkward, because Scar doesn’t exactly know what that is. He can gather that it has something to do with gender, but the prefix of trans isn’t clearing anything up. People who send their gender to other people? Can you send a gender?

“Now, I know exactly what you’re talking about,” Scar says. “But for the sake of Ren, could you explain what transgender means real quick?”

Cub blinks. Looks at Ren. Ren shrugs. Cub turns back to Scar. “You know, people whose gender doesn’t align with their bodies? Like, when someone who’s born a guy transitions to be a girl?”

“Oh, oh, oh!” Scar nods. He’s heard of that! Scott mentioned it once or something, and he can remember seeing stuff in the news about it. Really, Scar doesn’t know what the whole fuss is. Let people be themselves, and all that.

“So . . . how do you feel about trans people?” Cub prods. Again, Scar frowns.

“Well, once I meet a trans person, I’ll let you know!” he says graciously. He doesn’t quite get how trans people are different from normal people, but maybe they have an extra bellybutton or something. That would certainly be a detail he would have to consider in his decision.

Ren’s jaw drops. “Scar, I’m a trans person,” he says incredulously.

Wait.

What?

“But—” Scar glances between him and Cub, both of whom appear quite taken aback. “But you aren’t a girl!”

Ren barks out a surprised laugh. “Kinda the point, dude,” he says.

“You knew about Ren,” Cub insists. “You definitely knew.”

“I most certainly did not!” Scar retorts, his chest puffing up. “Wait, so—Ren, are you going to become a girl?”

“No, I used to be a girl,” Ren corrects. “You knew that!”

Scar shakes his head insistently. “But you’re so . . . Ren!” he says, trying to imagine Ren as a girl. He can’t make it work. “You’re a guy!”

“Tell that to my insurance,” Ren snorts. “But I appreciate the gender euphoria, my dude!”

“You knew that,” Cub repeats, still looking dumbfounded. “You brought Ren soup after his top surgery last spring break.”

Scar has no clue what top surgery is, but he does remember Ren getting a big chest surgery over spring break. He helped him out the whole time, seeing as Ren’s roommates had all gone home for the break. Scar practically lived in that apartment the entire week. “Wait, did you get your—uh, your things removed?” he asks, gesturing to his chest. “You had those?”

Ren is no longer laughing, back to matching Cub’s surprise. “Uh, yeah? Scar, my man, you gave me a sponge bath. You saw my bits!”

“I’m not the kind of man to pay attention to what another man has in his pants,” Scar tells him, turning his nose up.

“You literally knew me as a girl,” Ren continues. “Freshman year? I lived next door?”

And—

Hey, now that Ren mentions it, Scar does remember that one girl with the brown hair and the loud voice next door, False’s then-roommate. They had been pretty good friends until she stopped showing up and False started rooming with Ren instead.

Wait a minute.

“I thought she moved!” Scar says, just as astonished as the two of them. “You were her?”

A beat passes before Ren bursts into howling laughter, clutching at his sides. Cub still hasn’t stopped staring at him.

With a sudden intake of breath, Cub pinches the bridge of his nose under his glasses. He does that sometimes when Scar starts telling him about Disney. “Cool,” Cub says after he breathes out in a hiss of air. “Anyways—dude, stop laughing.”

“I can’t! Scar—he actually—”

“Anyways, the point is we wanted to talk about Ariana,” Cub starts, and Scar can’t help the way he immediately blushes just at the mention of his love’s name.

Nope, there’s no way he can convince them of his chivalry. He’ll start stammering and something inappropriate will slip out.

To save himself any embarrassment, Scar stands up, grabbing the walker set beside him (though he’d really prefer his cane). “Sorry, gentlemen,” he says, nodding to both Cub and the now-rolling Ren. “Speaking of Ari, I have to go call her.”

He doesn’t plan to do anything of the sort. He just needs to get away before anything untoward is said.

“Scar, wait—”

Scar strides away toward the bedroom as quickly as his legs will allow him and shuts the door, leaving Cub and Ren alone in the kitchen.

He really has no idea why they brought up trans people. How strange.

[loverlylight]

Agent Curt Mega: My ex-lover still misses me, but his aim is getting better!

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

i know that when carlo suddenly decided that he needs to marry guy made a whole list in his head n like had a deadlines n shit. like it was some kind of a task he needed to do

[thistlerock]

The Bad Kids Are Funny because they're all fairly violent and get really aggro really quickly (hey that's what you get for making a highly competent adventuring party a bunch of teenagers who don't go to therapy) but then Riz is somehow just two steps above everyone else and they barely acknowledge it. Fury of the Ball is the most wonderful thing.

The "face" of their party around school would probably be like Fig or Fabian, maybe Gorgug. Wow they're so strong aha. Hey who do you think is the most brutal, probably the half-orc barbarian who seems to mostly repress his rage until it's time to throw down right? Right?? No it's the little guy in the corner. Yeah, the one who just hid in the shadows and now you can't see him anymore. Yeah, he shot a pixie's fingers off one by one to get information, yeah, he ate a live dragon, yeah, he offered to tear someone's eye out for his best friend, yeah, he said the words "make sure his head is cut off so he can't be revivified" about another student. Yeah, he's a fucking goblin and so unapologetic about it at this point.

I always imagine his "fury" (which is a goblin trait which implies Sklonda has it too btw, never forget) being like oughhh pupils blown so wide, hair standing up, hissing claws out, kill maim stab. Just for a few seconds. You can elect to use it after hitting, I imagine him sinking his sword into a big meaty enemy and going "hm wow this guy's pretty tough. I need him dead though. Needs to die." and he twists the blade puts his whole weight in it and just drags it down no matter what's in the way. It HAS to be so gross and brutal every time and his friends are just like oh there he goes, the Ball cleaning up again.

Especially fun with the Kipperlilly thing. Oh two rogues fighting without sneak attack, that's gotta be a slow careful battle where they chip away at each other. Oh she does like seven damage rushing past him, oh he's gonna do the same wait never mind he uses his fury he stabbed her SO badly. No rogue finesse no show about it just the intent to kill. Kid with traumatic past does in fact end up fucked and it isn't actually fun or quirky or interesting, who would have thought. Shoutout to hold person over the lava that goes disgustingly hard and is also so gruesome, imagine being paralysed and watching yourself fall into a pit that will burn you alive.

The thing with classic rogues is that you're "dead before you know you're being attacked" and it's "quick and easy and possibly painless" but if Riz kills you it's gonna hurt. You're gonna know and it's gonna hurt but hey high chance you don't get to do anything about it still. Phenomenal character.

[sohnric]

'cause all the cool kids, they seem to fit in. /

starting univeristy with you has jake tumbling into a big, irrational fear of losing you to all the new cool kids in your orbit. little does he know, you'd always be rather stuck with him instead.

pairing: jake sim x fem! reader

genre: best friends to ?, fluff, slice of life. domestic and so cutesy i wanna cry. jake is an insecure wet puppy in this i wanna hold him☹️ nerdy shy introverted jakey!!!!

wc: 2.6k

a/n: building legos with jake is my deepest life dream 💔 thank you as always for beta reading my belovedest!!! @csenke

Eyes drifting from the small words and lined artwork in the manual to the crown of your head as you look down on the little building materializing right in your hands and then straight towards the wall behind you, Jake is almost too painfully aware of the time on the clock as you sit on top of his bed, enveloped by his red hoodie rather than the clothes he helped you pick out when you two went shopping together earlier in the day, chewing on the inside of his cheek and wondering when the time will come and you will leave his room to go do something better, something more exciting.

He curses himself in his head for being the way he is. For not being cool enough, for not being social enough to hold big parties he could invite you to, much like Lee Heeseung did, fitting snugly into your tonight’s schedule. For not being bold enough to flirt with you like all the new guys you’ve been meeting since the two of you got into university. For not telling everyone he is interested in you when they first asked him the question upon meeting the two of you in your shared classes. 

For not being loud and casual and funny like Jay is. For being nerdy and boring and maybe even a little shy. 

He curses himself out in his head for everything that makes him him, for everything he cannot change. It’s only been a few weeks since you two started university, and he already grew fifteen times more insecure than he was before– all because the painful realization that you won’t be around him, by his side forever, finally settled in after orientation– when he noticed the way you carry yourself and how it catches the eyes of many, and not just his.

It’s too late now to do anything, though. He will have to watch you slip from between his fingertips, he’s fully aware. Because you were invited to Lee Heeseung’s party– an upperclassman’s party– and an opportunity like this doesn’t get declined. 

The more he’s hypnotizing the clock on the wall, though, the more he’s concerned about the fact that you’re still residing in his dorm room instead of Lee Heeseung’s frat. And although he hates to see you leave, he doesn’t have it in him to stop his curiosity as he asks.

“Aren’t you supposed to be… like… on your way to Heeseung’s now?” he asks, voice coated with shyness mixed with curiosity, hating every single word that came out of his mouth.

“Hm?” you hum, looking up at him from under your eyelashes, a gaze that makes the boy immediately turn his head away and face his hands instead. “Oh, I dunno…” you trail off, not really giving him much of an explanation.

Jake furrows his eyebrows, confused. “Why?”

Out of the periphery of his vision, he sees you shrug. “I don’t really feel like going.”

This sentence alone makes the boy’s mood immediately a thousand times better. He can’t show it on his face, though– that would surely raise some red flags for you. Knowing he can’t face you because you can read him too well, he avoids all possible eye contact as he focuses on the Lego scattered all across his blanket.

“Suddenly?” he hums. “You bought a whole new outfit for it, though..?” A whole new outfit that you looked great in, Jake mentally grunts. A whole new outfit to show off in in front of Lee Heeseung, a whole new outfit that hugs your figure just right and makes Jake’s heartbeat quicken, his palms sweating as you twirled in the clothes outside of the changing room back at the store, asking him how you look.

“I can wear those clothes anywhere,” you snicker. “I dunno, Jake, I think I changed my mind about the party…”

Don’t show any emotion. Don’t look happy about it, Jake has to remind himself. Stay cool, calm and collected.

“Why?” He has a lot of questions.

“Well, first of all, I don’t really know these people,” you say, laughing to yourself. Jake could argue with the fact that Park Sunghoon, his new roommate for the year that you met a load of times before since you hang out with Jake in his room often, would be there– he doesn’t, though. He listens to you as you continue. “I doubt I’d have fun there if I don’t know anyone.”

“I think meeting new people is kinda the point of a party, though, isn’t it?” he notes, earning a soft chuckle out of you.

“I guess… But I dunno, I think the moment I got to your room and we started building these, I was completely sold on just staying over and hanging out with you instead,” you mumble, tone of voice soft and tender, making Jake’s stomach buzz with a thousand fireflies, lighting up his intestines and making him warm all over.

He prays it doesn’t mirror on his cheeks. There’s nothing to blush about in such a simple statement, after all.

“Oh,” is the only thing that leaves his mouth, taking the new information in.

You chose to build Lego with him over going to one of the biggest frat parties of the year? You chose to hang out with him over Lee Heeseung? All of it is making Jake’s fingertips buzz with excitement, a satisfied smile begging to jump onto his cheeks– he keeps suppressing it, though. He’ll keep the celebrations to himself, after you leave.

“Besides,” you clear your throat, “I think it was rude of them to not… not invite you as well, y’know,” you note, shrugging, all nonchalant. 

Jake’s ears start ringing. He didn’t think you’d mention it– he didn’t even think you paid it much mind. 

He wasn’t bitter about not being invited to all the big, cool parties. He made a few new friends already, and they aren’t going either– it’s not like Lee Heeseung and his group are the only acquaintances he could hang out with. It stinged a little when he realized your new friend group was so much different to the one he was building for himself– merely because the fear of watching you detach yourself from him after seeing just how uncool he really is compared to all the fun, outgoing people you surround yourself with nowadays was too much for him to handle.

“Well, they are your friends, not mine,” he shrugs. “And I’m not exactly the party type,” he justifies.

“Well, no,” you admit, “but the invitation would’ve been nice anyway. You’re my best friend, of course I would wanna bring you along.”

Jake chuckles at your words. He’s your best friend– and something about that makes him both overjoyed and a little defeated at the same time.

“Y/N, look, I won’t be mad if you still wanna go. You don’t have to stay with me–”

“But I want to,” you cut him off, finally forcing the boy to meet your eyes. You smile at him all soft and gentle, making Jake melt away and bashfully grin at your hurried argument. “I’m having much more fun building these with you than getting drunk with Lee Heeseung in a frat somewhere, trust me.”

As if to further prove your point, you nestle a little in your place and stretch your legs out as you plop your back against the perpendicular wall, landing your limbs right into Jake’s lap. The boy swallows at the sudden act of affection from you, instinctively resting his forearms against your shins as he continues to work on the Lego set you two picked out together in the mall.

If there’s one thing Jake enjoys doing the most, it’s Lego. His impressive collection stayed back home, though, so you insisted that he has to get at least one set to build to display in his dorm room as well. Convincing him was hard only until you told him you will get one as well and build it with him eventually– not really knowing just yet that the time would come the same day, later in the evening.

The boy lets himself relax once the idea of you leaving any minute and forgetting all about him and the bond you two have is disapproved of by your own words. Eyes involuntarily landing on your face every few seconds and the relaxing, yet heart-palpitation inducing humming of a song unfamiliar to him are preventing him from fully focusing on the Lego set in his hands, making him fall behind. The realization of the fact has you furrowing your eyebrows at him once you finish building up the blocks in your own hands, shifting in your position so now you’re sitting back next to him, legs still hovering over his– making you basically sit in his lap– as you speak up close to his face, having the boy’s ears ring and palms sweat, clammy with the bricks in between his fingertips.

“What’s taking you so long? I swear I witnessed you building that huge Star Wars ship faster than this little thing,” you giggle, taking a block from the little hoard of them on the blanket in front of you two into your hands and offering it to the boy.

“Dunno,” he mumbles, swallowing hard as you help him build up the little structure, hands tangling with his, skin brushing against skin, the scent of your shampoo hitting him in the nose. 

It only takes you two a couple more minutes to finish building the little structure– since the Lego sets you bought were similar, which meant you already knew what you were doing– and as the Lego flowers sit right at Jake’s feet, he lets himself admire them for a bit. 

“You should put them on your table there,” you prompt, pointing towards the desk under the window that’s sitting right opposite of Jake’s bed. “I think it would look super cute.”

Jake nods. He thinks he’d agree with anything that ever comes out of your mouth.

“Put this one next to it,” you snicker as you drag your own Lego set into his point of vision, the sakura flowers making Jake’s poor heart jump, twisting his head to face you.

“Huh?” he voices out. “But that’s yours.”

You shrug. “I bought it for you, ‘cause you like Legos so much,” you hum. “Besides, you can always think of me when you see it on your desk,” you nod.

That’s a silly idea. Jake always thinks of you.

“But you bought it with your own money, you can’t just–”

“Watch me,” you laugh as you scramble to your feet, taking both of the Lego plants and putting them into the corner of the desk, to the opposite end than his lamp is situated, admiring your interior design work.

Jake quickly follows you with a pout on his face. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy the sentiment, no– he just really dislikes the idea of you spending money on him. 

“Y/N, you spent money on that! I thought you were getting it so we could match and–”

You spin towards him, making the boy’s breathing hitch in his throat. It seems he didn’t successfully estimate the proximity of his body to yours as he was trying to take the Lego off the table, earning himself only a few centimeters between his and your face. Looking at you with wide eyes and mouth hanging agape– unknowingly making himself seem like an eager, adorable puppy– he can’t help it but let his eyes roam all over your features.

“You can buy me a real plant and I’ll keep that one on my desk, how about that?” you ask him sweetly, raising your brows at him and sending him that cute, cunning smile. 

Something about you right in this moment is making Jake’s blood boil hotter, your composure teasing, daring. The second your arms sneak around his neck, he’s a goner– he can’t think of anything else besides your sheer existence and how that alone makes him feel. What’s worse, he can’t put his attention anywhere but to your soft, plump lips. 

He thinks he’s going crazy. This is insane. If you like playing with him, then he’s happy enough to be your toy– anything but letting you go is good in his eyes.

He doesn’t allow himself to move. Having you like this is already enough for him– it’s far more intimate than anything he’s experienced with you, with anyone ever before– and it’s just a simple hug, goddamn it. You’re breathing the same air as you let your forehead rest against Jake’s, the action alone making him feel weak in his knees, a fit of fireworks erupting in his stomach harder than the New Year’s celebrations. 

He’s trying hard not to think about kissing you right now. Not because he doesn’t want to– no, he just believes you don’t want to. 

Because this is just what friends do on Friday evenings, right? 

Don’t get your hopes up, Jake thinks. You just finished building Lego together– how much of a loser can you really be?

Not enough to stop himself from imagining, it seems. 

Because your face moving towards his with unstoppable force can only ever be a dream– one he’s had far too many nights, far too often than he’d like to admit to himself. 

It feels so real, though? He almost lets himself believe it. He almost lets himself indulge in the fantasy– perhaps even make it a reality– before the bubble bursts itself and all his hopes and dreams with the sound of the door opening, making you jump away from him.

You should’ve locked the door, Jake curses at himself. Actually, no– that would be weird.

Either way, he can’t help but roll his eyes when he hears the voice of Park Sunghoon break the silence. 

“Yo, Y/N, are you coming or not? Heeseung texted me to ask about you. I can give you a lift, if you wanna, but I’m leaving, like, right now, so– did I interrupt something?” the taller boy finally realizes after you send him an annoyed look, the question so deadpan it has Jake cringing at the words.

“Yeah, no,” you clear your throat, dropping your arms and putting some space between you and Jake. “Uhm– I… I’m not going tonight. Thanks, though.”

“So you’re staying behind with that nerd?” Sunghoon asks, a teasing glint in his grin. Jake doesn’t know if he should be taking it personally.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Hanging with the nerd tonight,” you joke, looking behind your shoulder. The gaze you send Jake is softer, more tender than he imagined– something about it making heat crawl to all crevices of his body and making him immensely embarrassed, as he knows there is a blush very apparent and unhidable on his cheeks right now.

Sunghoon nods. After taking one last look between the two of you, the male shrugs. “Alright, then. Have fun!” he says as he turns to leave. Jake thinks the torture is finally over and he gets to be alone with you again, before his roommate spins on his heel and sends you two another shit-eating grin. “Can at least one of you text me if I should find a place to sleep tonight, though? I wouldn’t wanna interrupt again in case you end up–”

“Get out!” you yelp, chasing after the man, threatening him with your fists and kicks.

Jake feels like burying himself alive under the cold ground and disappearing. Curse Park Sunghoon, Lee Heeseung and all the cool kids in school– because it seems that one way or another, they always have a way of keeping you from him. 

[moonstruckme]

hello!

Could you maybe do poly!marauders x reader and the boys discovering she has a major praise kink!

It doesn’t have to be smutty or it can be whatever you think!!

(ps: you are such an amazing author and the way you write the marauders together and their personalities is impeccable 💋)

This was fun and funny, thanks for requesting!

cw: praise kink, suggestive ending (no smut)

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

Remus makes a soft hissing sound. “Is that how you always chop onions?” 

You look at him sideways. “With a knife? Yes.” 

“Don’t be cheeky,” he says, smiling. “You’re going to hurt yourself.” 

You look down at your cutting board, still chopping but now bemused. “I don’t plan on it.” 

James, who’s appeared over your shoulder, makes a similar sound, hissing through his teeth. “No, sweetheart.” He places his hand over yours on the handle of the knife, silently prompting you to stop. “Rem’s right, you’re going to lose the tips of your fingers.” 

You feel a tad defensive of your chopping skills. “I’ve managed to keep them all ‘til now. What am I doing wrong?” 

“Here, let me.” James eases the knife from your grip, squishing in alongside you in front of the cutting board and taking your onion. “See, you want to curl your fingers in a tiny bit so the knife skims off them. Like a claw.” 

You lean over, peering at his hand. “It looks hard to keep a grip like that.” 

“It takes a bit of practice,” he allows. James slices through the onion a few times with smooth, easy motions, then passes the knife back to you. “Give it a try.” 

You try to hold the onion the way he had, looking at James for approval. He taps your pinkie finger, getting you to curl that one a bit more, before smiling at you. 

“There you go. That’s good, now try cutting down your knuckles.” 

“This feels scarier than my way,” you admit, though you do as he says, skimming the knife down your knuckles and slicing through the onion slowly. 

“No, you’ve got it,” James praises. “That’s really good, angel. You’re a natural.” 

Your cheeks are starting to warm from all the compliments. “Thanks,” you say in a small voice. 

“Don’t go getting shy,” says Sirius, coming in to steal a dry pasta noodle from Remus. He bites down on it with a crack that makes James grimace. “You were so vocal about how you knew the proper way a minute ago.” 

“I still like my way better,” you say, recovering some. 

“Right, well do it this way for our peace of mind, would you?” James’ hand warms the small of your back as he watches you work. “You have very pretty fingers, and I don’t think I’m being too presumptuous in saying that we all like them too much to risk it. Plus, you’ve picked it up so quickly.” 

The heat from your face spreads lower. It’s all you can do to squeak out a meek “okay.” You’re grateful when James leaves to return to his own task. 

A minute later, Remus comes over to check that you’re doing what you’re supposed to. He hums approvingly. “Good girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hair. All the air in your lungs dries up. “Thank you, darling. That looks great.” 

“She learned from the best,” James quips. 

Remus hums and kisses his hair too before turning back to his work. It’s only a handful of seconds before they realize you’ve not replied. 

“Dove?” Remus looks at you. 

“Hm?” you hum tightly. 

“You alright?”

“Mhm.” 

James and Sirius have turned to look now, too. You keep your face downturned to the cutting board, but you can feel the weight of three curious stares on the back of your head. Sirius prowls over to you like a cat, taking you by the shoulders and turning you slowly. 

“Humor me for a moment?” he asks, smirking. “I want to test a theory.” 

You’re wound too tightly by this point to respond, his smug teasing pushing you to the edges of sanity. You barely have the wherewithal to set your knife down carefully behind you. 

Your boyfriend’s cold hands find your warm face, shit-eating grin only spreading as he takes his time feeling about your cheeks with his knuckles and fingers. Sirius isn’t always the most perceptive of your boyfriends, but unfortunately, humiliatingly, he’s the first to unravel this particular mystery. 

He asks smoothly, “Do you like it when we tell you how good you are, pretty girl?” 

You’re not sure if he can actually feel the flare of heat to your face at the words, but something about your expression must confirm it. Sirius laughs gleefully. 

“Awe, angel.” James comes over to wrap his arms around you from the side, also laughing. “I didn’t know we were winding you up when we talked like that. I was just trying to compliment what a quick learner you are.” 

“She is a quick learner,” Sirius says in a salacious tone. “You always follow instructions well, don’t you, gorgeous?” 

“Stop,” you plead, covering your face with your hands and forcing Sirius to move his. All three of your boyfriends snicker, James pressing a conciliatory kiss to your burning ear. “It’s not like it happens all the time, you’re just being so much right now. You can’t just call someone—call them—” 

“A good girl?” Remus asks you, and you don’t think he’s putting on a tone like Sirius is, you really don’t, but his regular voice is already so nearly pornographic that the heat in your core spreads anyway. 

“Right,” you say weakly. 

Remus chuckles. “I didn’t mean anything by it, sweetheart. Sorry if I put you in an…uncomfortable position.” 

“No, don’t be sorry.” Sirius is giddy, smugness dialed up to eleven. “This is a revelation. Just think what we could do with this. You’ve given us all a gift, babe.” 

“Oh, our poor girl,” James laughs when you try to hide your face in his shoulder. “Sirius is right, this is good! It’s always good for us to know what you like, right?” 

You’re too flustered to reply, but Remus agrees for you, humming contemplatively. 

“You know,” he says, “if I leave this to simmer for a while, we could make it up to you now, dove. I’d feel awful if I wound you up without giving you any payoff.” 

His tone implies he’s at least partly joking, but Sirius doesn’t take it that way. He has you all in the bedroom in thirty seconds flat, your chopping left to wait for your return. 

[ningvory]

SCREAM - jang wonyoung

1,740 words // yall i wanted to do kinktober sooo baddd but im so outta ideas and school and work has been draining😔 so instead i'll just write 2-3 more halloween themed fics

CW: noncon -> dubcon, ghostface!wonyoung, big dick wony, bully!reader, a little knife play, choking, backshots, doggy, missionary, a little tit play, mentions of reader getting impregnated, squirting, not proofread lolz

its about 11pm on a friday, 'means girls' is playing on your living room tv while you were in the kitchen searching for a pot to put your noodles in. your parents left for their business trip to wherever, you weren't really paying attention after they mentioned you'll be alone for two weeks and that you had a spending allowance of 5k, which is why you were wearing your new black lingerie set under your fuzzy pink robe.

you were humming a song as you head to the pantry to get a bottle of water to fill the pot with until you heard your phone ringtone go off. you went to mute the tv and grabbed your phone, tapping the answer button. you held the phone up to your ear but you're met with silence.

"hello?~" you questioned, dragging out the word. it was a habit of yours when you were annoyed,

"didn't think you'd pick up." the voice was cheerful, too cheerful to the point where it had you furrow your eyebrows trying figure out who's calling you at this time.

"well, i did. so.." you responded with a little bit of attitude. you were starving and here this stranger is playing on your phone. "listen, who the hell are you and what do you want?" you raise your voice a octave.

"your tits look good in that bra, wish i can see the way your ass looks in the panties." you furrow your eyebrows once more. every window was locked and your curtains blocked any prying eyes from seeing inside.

"um—you must've gotten the wrong number or something. i'm hanging up now." you smile half heartedly, trying to wrap things up, whoever this girl is can probably hear your labored breathing.

"hang up this fuckin' phone and i’m killing you myself!" she quickly responded, you froze immediately. especially after hearing some sort of bang coming from upstairs, “not so tought without your friends here, hm y/n?"

you were assuming this was a silly halloween prank call but she knows you personally! she knows your friends and even your name—you can admit that you were a bitch to most people but you didn't think that someone would break in and kill you for it!

"w-what kinda joke is this? this isn’t funny!" you let out a nervous laugh. no way this is fucking real, this is just a prank, right?

the person lets out a hysterical laugh—almost like she’s gone crazy. "you think this is a joke? was it a joke when you make every single day a living hell for me?" she asked but you remained silent, "now you wanna act like a scared little girl? don't you think its time to get what you deserve?" she asks.

the amount of people you’ve been a bitch too, its hard to guess who this person was. the fact that this persons voice was low and raspy to the point where you couldn’t even identify who’s voice this is didn’t help you either.

"i think we should play a game. i’d advice you listen, if you want to live that is." you can hear her smiling through the phone.

your heart is racing now, you have a gut feeling that this person is in the big ass house somewhere and that promise of her killing you is haunting you.

"fine. what's this game?" you try to put on that tough façade, still holding onto your pride.

"go upstairs. into your room." she commands you and you hate it but all you can do now is obey her words.

you grip your phone tighter and walk up the stairs—just like she said. you walk into your room. your pink led illuminated the room.

"good girl~ now, strip." her praise breaks the silence.

"what?" you whispered in disbelief.

"you heard me, don't make me do it for you."

you sigh, you really aren't sure why she wants you to strip for her. maybe to humiliate you on the internet on something but you comply to her demand, untying your robe and letting it drop to the floor. you stand, praying that’s all she meant when she said strip.

"do you not know what strip mean, bitch?" she questions, noticing that you're just standing there.

you stay silent, tears were beginning to form in your eyes and you let out a whimper, “why? are you some kinda sick pervert?” you demand, looking around the room.

it was silent for a while, it was like she hung up the phone on you. your heart was racing, you were getting anxious, “hello! where are you!? who are you!?” you cry out.

as soon as you asked that your closet door opened, revealing a figure dressed up like ghostface charging right at you. you let out a loud scream, backing up into the wall but the figure used that to her advantage, her long hands engulfed your neck, pushing your head into the wall and tightening the grip, forcing a strangled whine to fall from your mouth as you gasp for air desperately.

tears began to fall from your cheeks, your hands came up to hold her wrists before hitting them, desperately trying to pry them off your neck. she swiftly slapped you right across your face and manhandled your frail body on your bed, choked whines coming from you in the process.

“you look so cute like this, crying and at my mercy.” her tall body straddled yours, under her coat and her skirt, you can feel her bulge on your tummy. no way she’s hard from this.

if you were gonna die like this you might as well see who this sicko is, you removed your hands from the hands that were on your neck and you reached up to the ghost mask, removing it from their head. your eyes widen when you realized who it was. wonyoung.

her soulless eyes looked down at yours, a smile slowly found its way onto her face which made shivers run down your spine. she removed her grip on your neck, but still remained ontop of you.

you inhaled air almost immediately, trying to catch your breath before you can question the girl. but before you could even speak, she held a butcher knife right under your chin, “don’t scream or move.” she spoke menacingly.

“since you can’t seem to follow orders i’ll force you to,” she sighs. she starts to slowly move her knife down to your shaking body. the metal causing goosebumps to awake on your body. she trailed down until she got to your bra, she easily sliced it in half with her knife. “hey! i just bought this!” you spat, your first time wearing this set and it’s already ruined? this really isn’t your night.

“shut up, whore.” she’s quick to bring the knife back to your neck, pressing down on it but not enough to draw blood.

your bottom lips quivers which makes her coo before she gets off your tummy and flips your body over. you yelp in surprise with how easy she’s moving your body.

before you can complain she’s pushing your head into the sheets and placing the palm of her hand to your back, forcing you to arch your ass up in the air. to position muffled anything that you might’ve said and you felt your heart drop when you feel her bulge prodding against your ass.

wonyoung slices your panties as well before placing the knife in her mask. she pulls her boxers down along with her miniskirt. she giggles as she hovers over you of you, large hands pinning yours to the bed before she leans into your ear with a wicked grin.

“i’m going to make you scream.”

“w-wait!” you quickly retort squirming under her iron grip.

she wastes no time before she pushes her cock deep inside your virgin cunt.

it was like the wind got knocked out of you. you can't even make a sound, all you can concentrate on is the burn on your hole being stretched out. she had just pushed in and her cock is already kissing at your cervix, just how big is this girls cock?

wonyoung harshly gripped your hips and pulled out until her cock head was the only length left inside you before violently thrusting forward, letting out a long groan at the satisfaction. her hands left your back to grab your wrists to hold them behind your back, and forcefully yanking you back down onto her cock. she wasn't letting you get out of this anytime soon.

she was using your body like you were her human sized sex doll. drool was running down your chin and down to the valley of your tits and your eyes were crossed over, "for someone that hasn't taken a real dick before--you take it like a cock drunk whore." wonyoung muttered loud enough for you to hear. if you hadn't been too busy cryin' n moanin' on her dick, you would've made a snarky comeback.

she's never heard your voice become this high-pitched but she wasn't complaining, "s-so big! y-you're gonna break me!!" you whined through your tears.

"and you're gonna keep taking it all in your little cunt. even after i impregnate you." wonyoung quickly agreed to your statement, shooting three spurts of cum into your cunt.

you thought she'd be done but her hips never stopped smacking into yours, instead, she flipped you over into missionary. she swiftly picked up your left leg, placing it on her shoulder to reach a deep angle.

she continued to drill into your cum-stuffed pussy, her cock heavily throbbing inside you due to just seeing the lewd sight below her, "like being fucked by a killer, gonna cum all over me?"

"uh-huhh~" your eyes rolled back and your body began to shake. she took one of you tits that's bouncing with her thrust into your mouth, earning a loud moan from you. you suddenly felt a little funny, almost like you had to pee? your body soon went limp before you let out a whiny moan, squirting all over her dick and pelvis.

"at first i was just gonna fuck you and then kill her." she pulls out of your sloppy pussy and grabbed her knife. you flinch at these words, a bit terrified of what was gonna happen next, "but i think i'll make you my cute cock sleeve."

[enkvyu]

12:45am — gojo satoru ;

“cute earrings, where’d you get them?” shoko asks.

“hm?” still clinging to sleep, you absentmindedly reach up to caress the metal dangling from your ear. the sharp indents of its gem pricks you back into a memory. “oh, these. i got them from a friend last week.”

“friend? or do you mean boyfriend?”

shoko’s words are throwaway, her wandering eyes and yawn a clear indication yet your face warms despite yourself. shaking your head furiously, you exclaim, “a friend! just a friend."

shoko hums, shifting her cigarette to the other end of her mouth. her gaze flickers somewhere behind you and you almost look too, when her words pull you back. “come to think of it, i don’t think you’ve ever told me what your type was.”

“my type?” your mind blanks. “i’ve probably never told you because i’ve never thought about it myself. i mean, being a jujutsu sorcerer and all, romance is kind of off the table.”

shoko keeps looking at you, pressing you without words. you grimace and sigh.

"i mean, i guess, maybe someone good looking? someone who’s not boring? and now that we're talking about it, someone who is fit and athletic too. they'd have to be smart, but not book-smart, like, street-smart." the more you think of it, the more words seem to spill from your mouth. "and someone who has a good sense of humour, someone who will make me laugh.”

“someone good looking, interesting, sporty, smart and funny? that’s too greedy.”

you giggle. “you’re right, there’s no way there’s anyone that perfect. i guess i’ll have to be single forever.”

“you'll always have me.” shoko says, grinning.

you push her shoulder but don’t deny it.

yaga walks into the classroom, cutting your conversation short. you spin around in your seat to face the front, eyes accidentally meeting gojo’s. he turns around too, and you reason that he was probably looking out the window behind you. you see getou snicker and whisper something in his ear, but gojo seemed to be having none of it, blatantly ignoring him.

seeing his face makes you think. didn’t gojo kind of match your type? someone attractive, interesting, athletic and maybe not academic smart, but he definitely carried an air of confidence when it came to fighting. and it wasn't a secret that he lightened the air wherever he went, intentionally or not.

with a start, you look back at shoko. “and someone calm. someone with manners.”

“well-mannered and calm. what insane preferences.” shoko chuckles. “are there any more?"

yaga slams his hand on the table a few times, reluctantly drawing your attention back to the front.

your previous conversation dies and twiddles away into the background, overtaken by droning lectures and predictable missions. by the end of the day, you can't even remember what you had told shoko early that morning.

when you enter the classroom the next day, you’re surprised to find gojo already there, seated at his table. his sunglasses hangs lower on his nose than usual and most curiously of all, a book is held in his hands. you’re not sure if he’s actually reading or not considering that pages were being turned far too quickly for someone reading “ordinary objects” by amie thomasson.

his eyes flicker to yours as you head in. “good morning.”

“morning. what’s with you?”

gojo clears his throat. “what ever do you mean?”

your frown transitions to a grimace. “why are you talking like that? did you break something of mine? was it my potted plant, gojo i told you to take good care of it!”

“i am taking care of it! it’s not dead yet!” he exclaims before pausing uncharacteristically. he sits back in his chair and turns back to his book. “i mean, it’s fine.”

“you sure?”

“i am.”

you narrow your eyes before looking away, dropping into your seat. “it better be. shoko got me that one.”

“speaking of shoko, is she not coming today?”

“i think she stayed overnight at the morgue.”

“is that so? perhaps i should write notes for her. i wouldn’t want her to miss out on class.”

you turn to him horrified. “so you did kill my plant!”

“i said it’s not dead!” gojo bursts. another pause. he clears his throat, adjusting his glasses. “i simply worry for her.”

you stare at him and watch as he fidgets under your gaze. “are you feeling sick? did you eat something wrong?”

“i’m not sick. what part of me looks sick?"

“well you’re usually not this…” you watch him as you wrack your brain, trying to find a word to describe this situation. “c…”

gojo leans forward. “yes?”

“crazy.”

he falls back in his chair, groaning, book forgotten and placed harshly down on the table.

you tilt your head. “where's getou, you guys didn’t come to class together? don’t tell me you fought.”

gojo peers up and frowns. “no, can i not show up to class early just because i feel like it?”

“it would be extremely out of character, yeah.” you rest your chin on your hand as you watch gojo mutter to himself, his jaw jutted out and his nose scrunched.

he was clearly unhappy, it didn’t take a scholar to know. it might take a genius to figure out why though.

you had time to kill, might as well take up the challenge. maybe he hadn’t had his morning dose of sugar yet, or maybe his favourite anime had delayed it’s upcoming episode. maybe he didn't save properly on the new game he was playing, or maybe he simply didn't sleep well last night. or maybe he had lied to you and he had fought with getou, leading to this strange attitude.

the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. the way he was acting now was like a mockery to getou's usual behaviour.

“are you trying to be like getou?” you try.

gojo whirs around to face you. “what?”

“well, you’re trying to be composed.” he keeps staring at you and you clear your throat. “like more well-mannered. more calm.”

gojo remains silent but you watch as his jaw drops. you think that he might say something but then his mouth closes, only to open again.

gojo speechless, what a sight. but as good of a sight as it was, you were beginning to feel concerned.

“are you sure you’re alright? what did you eat yesterday?”

he doesn’t register your question. “you think getou is well-mannered?”

“yeah?”

“and calm?”

you nod. “more than you, at least.”

“do you think he’s interesting too? sporty? smart? funny?” he pauses. “good-looking?”

the questions throw you off guard and you sit up. “what? where is this coming from?”

“oh my god, you do.”

“no? i mean, i think getou’s great and everything—”

“you think getou’s great?”

“don’t you?”

“you think getou’s hot.” he concludes. “and you think getou’s great.”

"what are you even saying?"

"i don't know. why don't you tell me?"

baffled, you flail for words. “are you jealous of him? that's strange, i didn’t think either of you would ever feel jealous of each other.”

gojo grits his teeth and looks away. with a pout, he says, “me neither.”

the door to the classroom is thrown open and getou steps through, rubbing the back of his neck. he yawns on his way to his chair and it wakes him up, looking between you and gojo as you both watch him enter.

“what did you guys do?” he asks with a sigh.

“nothing!”

“nothing.” gojo says and glares at him.

getou blinks.

“okay.” he says slowly, sliding out his chair and sitting. “what did i do then? why are you both looking at me like that?”

“gojo’s being weird.” you snitch. “are you guys fighting?”

“how should i know? i thought we were doing okay. gojo, if i did something, use your words and tell me.”

"i'll use my words to tell you to suck my dick instead."

"so i did do something. you're so predictable, gojo."

you snicker as gojo huffs and glances away, looking away out the window behind your head. his train of sight cuts right past you but you can’t help but feel slightly flustered as he looks on, almost like he was looking at you, so determined to ignore getou’s pestering.

subconsciously, you drown getou out too, your traitorous mind observing the blue in gojo’s eyes. you had always thought it was just one colour, but looking at it now, it seemed more like a kaleidoscope of blues, the many shades sparkling and dimming as he watched birds flutter outside the window, and you watched their shadows through his eyes.

something shifts, in the air or in the skies you don't know, and gojo meets your eye. startled, you hold the gaze and he holds it too, just long enough for your lungs to run out of air.

you look away hastily and inhale.

gojo glances to the front, oddly fidgety.

getou looks between the two of you. “what the fuck was that?”

“nothing.” gojo says.

getou clearly doesn't buy it but though he tries to get an answer out of you, you don't give him one either. cupping your cheeks, your thoughts mirror his question. what was that? it was embarrassing, that's what it was and your realisation is only heightened as a silence fills all four corners of the classroom.

gojo clears his throat. “for me, i like someone who i'm already comfortable with. someone i already know.”

at his words, you look over at him and find him already staring. he frowns as you don't give him any other reaction.

yaga saves you from addressing his statement, walking into the room as the bell for class rang. "oh? you're all early, even you gojo. where's shoko?"

“she’s staying at the morgue because of the recent mission.”

“i see.” yaga nods. “then let’s start.”

your mind fails to work as you turn over gojo’s words, thinking them through. what did they mean? what was he talking about? did this weird confession have something to do with why he was acting so strange?

slowly, you draw connections between your conversation with gojo and the talk you had with shoko yesterday morning. an epiphany shoots through you and you cover your mouth to hide a gasp.

did that mean…?

someone he knew? acting strange? getting mad when you said you liked getou?

you watch gojo’s side profile, hoping he’d turn around. if what you thought was right, he’d turn.

seconds tick past. yaga’s voice drawls on and yet gojo doesn't even spare you a glance.

no, maybe you were wrong after all.

just as you were about to face yaga again, gojo’s head shifts and his eye flicks over to yours. they widen when he finds you, and you’re sure you’re in a similar shocked state.

oh my god, you think, eyes darting between him and the other boy in the room.

gojo has a crush on getou.

filler imagine based off of that One scene from the manga: "megane tokidoki yankee kun"

[cosmoszyn]

zayne, whose life mission is to make your life easier and trouble-free, insists he’s merely friends with you.

so imagine your surprise when he pulls to the curbside in the midst of a traffic jam, rolling his windows down and seeing you standing by the side of the road, an umbrella in hand and a deep frown on your face.

“zayne?” you call out with squinted eyes trying to make out his shadowed features.

“get in,” he says, in perhaps the loudest voice you have ever heard from him, his gaze fixated on yours.

“what are you doing here? this isn’t the way to your home!” you almost shout against the blaring horns.

“do you want to go home or not?”

you didn’t have to be told twice.

you fold your umbrella close and rush to the passenger seat of his car, slamming the door shut and buckling your seatbelt.

“you’re a lifesaver,” you say, “i thought i was going to rot there waiting for the bus.”

zayne gives you a soft nod, looking over to the cars ahead of him that tells him that he won’t be able to drive in this congested road.

“have you been waiting for a while?” he asks.

“‘a while’ is an understatement. i’ve been there for nearly three hours!” you cry out, frustration bubbling your chest. “the train is down because of some damn plastic coiled around the catenary or whatever.”

“that explains the long line at the bus waiting shed,” he murmurs. you sigh in agreement.

silence ensues the two before you speak up again, “you haven’t answered my question, though.”

“hm?”

“this isn’t your way back home. it’s the other side of the road,” you say.

“i was not aware that you have turned into a navigational application,” he comments flatly, humor barely lacing his tone.

“ha-ha, very funny, dr. zayne!” you remark, rolling your eyes playfully.

“i’d appreciate it if you refrain from calling me from my title outside of the hospital,” he deadpans, warranting you to raise your brow. “and why is that? you’re still a doctor outside of the hospital,” you counter.

“but am i performing doctor duties right now?” he argues.

you slump in your seat, staring at the constant back and forth of the windshield wipers. “fair point,” you mumble under your breath. “but is this even allowed?” you turn to him in curiosity.

“what is?” he asks.

“driving your patient home. doesn’t that violate the doctor-patient relationship ethic or whatever?” you say, waving your hand to prove a point.

“my job entails me to make my patients live a life that is in good health, correct?”

“correct, dr. zayne,” you reply, barely catching sight of his slight wince at the mention of his title despite his protests.

“then i am only doing my job here. helping my patient get home so she doesn’t catch a cold while waiting in the rain,” zayne says, eyes fixated on the vehicle-jammed road.

you look at him in amusement, “oh? is that so? so does that mean you have ‘drives patients home in a traffic jam while raining’ in your job description?”

he hums in agreement.

you snicker, “then I shall look into your records at the hospital’s human resources to check if you truly have that in your job description.”

“no need,” he replies.

“and why is that?”

“it’s confidential.” you see the slight twitch of his lips curving upwards in a smile.

“oh so now it’s confidential when i want a copy of your job description?” you argue, unable to hide the grin in your face, “i demand it!” you exclaim with folded arms and eyes trained on the road.

you almost miss the sound of zayne’s chuckle “it’s confidential as i only do it to my patient who means a lot to me.”

you take note of how he used the term in singular.

“i must be your favorite patient, then!” you chirp.

he doesn’t deny your claim, only a soft smile gracing his features at your words.

maybe he could get used to driving through the heavy traffic lanes to your home if it meant having this everyday.

lmao wrote this self-indulgent fic at the public transportation after i waited for almost three hours for a bus 😭

[nerdycheol]

Hint. Hint. HINT!!!

Pairing: Lee Seokmin (DK) x Reader

Genre: College AU, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Crush

WC: ~2.5k

Lee Seokmin was either the dumbest person you had ever met or just truly, utterly clueless.

For months now, you had been dropping hints—glaring, neon-sign-worthy hints—but he still hadn’t caught on. It was ridiculous. Actually, no—it was painful.

How else were you supposed to let him know you liked him? Spell it out in the sky? Get a marching band to parade through campus?

Today, you were determined to make it even more obvious.

Hint #143: Movie Night

“You know,” you started, casually scrolling through Netflix as Seokmin sprawled out on your dorm bed beside you, “watching a movie together like this is basically a date.”

He snorted, grabbing a handful of popcorn. “Pfft, nah. Friends do this all the time.”

You shot him a look. “Yeah, but do friends do this?” You shifted closer, resting your head against his shoulder.

Your heart thumped. Any second now, he’d get it—he had to.

Seokmin, the human golden retriever that he was, just hummed happily. “You’re so comfy, Y/N.”

You closed your eyes. “Seokmin. Be honest. Are you acting dumb or are actually dumb?”

He blinked. “What?”

You sat up, exasperated. “I’ve been dropping hints left and right, and you—” You pointed at his forehead. “Are. Not. Getting. It.”

He looked genuinely confused. “Hints? What hints?”

You gaped at him. “Oh my god.”

---

Hint #157: Borrow My Hoodie

One of the surefire ways to get a guy’s attention was the classic borrow his hoodie move. So when you saw Seokmin in his oversized, soft-as-a-cloud hoodie one morning, you knew what had to be done.

You tugged at his sleeve as he sat across from you in the campus café. “Hey, can I borrow your hoodie?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Of course! Are you cold?”

Success.

You pulled it over your head, inhaling the faint scent of his detergent and something undeniably him. “Wow, this is so comfy. I might just keep it forever.”

Seokmin grinned. “That’s fine, I have others!”

You sighed. “No, Seokmin. This is where you’re supposed to say, ‘If you keep my hoodie, you have to give me something in return.’”

His brows furrowed. “Like what?”

“Like…” You leaned forward, staring into his very soul. “A kiss, maybe?”

For a moment, just a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes. Then he laughed. “Ohhh, that’s funny! You almost got me there!”

You groaned, flopping onto the table. Why is he like this?

---

Hint #200: The Almost Confession

Enough was enough. If he couldn’t figure it out on his own, you were just going to have to spell it out for him.

The two of you were sitting on the campus lawn after class, enjoying the golden sunset. Seokmin stretched, his shirt riding up slightly, and you nearly forgot your entire train of thought.

No. Focus.

You took a deep breath. “Seokmin.”

“Hm?” He turned to you, all bright eyes and sunshine.

“I like—”

RIIING.

His phone buzzed loudly, and he scrambled to answer it. “Oh! Sorry, give me a sec—hello?”

You closed your eyes, mentally counting to ten. Of course.

When he finally ended the call, he turned back with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

You exhaled. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

---

Hint #250: The Breaking Point

It was getting ridiculous. Everyone in your friend group knew you liked him. Even strangers could probably tell. Everyone except Lee Seokmin himself.

You decided to try one last time.

“Seokmin.” You stopped in the middle of the campus quad, grabbing his hand.

He blinked. “Yeah?”

“Do you think I’d make a good girlfriend?”

He tilted his head. “Of course! You’d be amazing. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”

You squeezed his hand tighter. “What if I wanted to be your girlfriend?”

Silence.

A beat passed. Then another. You watched as his brain visibly tried to process the words.

“…Wait. What?”

You groaned, pulling your hand away. “Seokmin. Oh my god.”

And then—finally—it clicked. His eyes widened, his mouth parting slightly in realization.

“Wait. Wait. Are you saying—”

“Yes!” you practically shouted. “I’ve been saying it for months!”

His face turned red. “You like me?!”

You threw your hands up. “YES, GENIUS.”

For a second, he just stared at you, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Then, all at once, his face broke into the brightest, happiest smile you had ever seen.

“You like me?” he repeated, this time with so much joy that your frustration melted away.

You rolled your eyes but smiled back. “Yes, Seokmin. I like you. And I’ve been trying to tell you this entire time.”

He laughed—loud, full, and infectious—before suddenly wrapping you in a tight hug. “I like you too! I just… I didn’t know if you liked me back.”

“You—” You groaned, resting your forehead against his chest. “Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.”

Seokmin grinned, holding you tighter. “So… does this mean I get to call you my girlfriend now?”

You pulled back just enough to look at him. “You better.”

And finally, finally, Lee Seokmin got the hint.

Bonus:

Jeonghan sighed, watching from a distance. “Took them long enough.”

Joshua nodded. “I was starting to think we’d have to force them into a closet or something.”

Seungkwan shook his head. “Nah, even then, Seokmin would probably think it was just ‘friend bonding.’”

And honestly? They weren’t wrong.

[musingsofheaven]

SO, ASL? p1

summary: You logged on for fun. Maybe a dumb convo because you fantasized sleep. Definitely not to let some stranger talk you to get wet. But here you are. Logged in. It’s fine. You’re fine. Just casually rubbing one out over a guy you don’t know while whispering “fuck me” into your own hand. But you are just a girl!

pairings: rafe cameron x afab!reader

warnings: 3.6k words. mature themes. sexting format. masturbation (f solo, m implied). orgasm denial/control. explicit sexual language. intense dirty talk. exhibitionism-adjacent. anonymous chat. overstimulation. voice kink (implied). read responsibly.

notes: so this was supposed to be a tiny thing… like a silly idea that maybe stayed under 1k?? like just a little blurb to get out of my system. and then i started writing. and um. yeah. 😵‍💫 i wrote this while ovulating. which explains a lot. like… a lot a lot. and i know it’s kinda cringe (okay like really cringe) but listen… i literally couldn’t stop thinking about touching yourself to someone you’ve never even seen??? like??? that’s so unhinged. and so hot. and so girlcore™. 🥵🫣 anyway this is disgusting and i should be locked in a box but i hope u enjoy 🫶😻

You don’t usually do this.

Maybe you do that when you’re so fucked up, meaning too bored, too awake, too alone, or yeah. P.S. You’re not even really into anonymous chat stuff. But it’s 2:21 a.m., and you’ve been rolling around your bed, taking some melatonin, and even listening to asmr bullshit. Your bed feels shit right now, and your phone is useless because it’s not helping you to fall asleep. Your brain is spinning in that useless, itchy way when you’re overtired but still too wired to sleep.

You have also been scrolling for too long now. Friends are asleep. You don’t have someone to annoy while you’re awake. You’re not ready to read, watch, or do things. Now that you’re on the home page, type in one of those chat sites.

There’s a video chat option, but you chose the anonymous chat instead. Because... why not? Text only. No usernames. No cameras. Just with the thrill of matching with a stranger. Either you’ll match with someone good, or it’ll be mediocre, so skip it. Hit or pass, really.

You’ve just welcomed the typical page stating that you must be 18 or older, etc., rules that people won’t follow. Ultimately, a start button will be available, allowing you to click it.

Connecting you to someone…

You wait for it to load.

Then... there’s this classic: “You are now chatting with a random stranger.”

Stranger is typing...

Stranger: Hey, stupid question but

Stranger: If you have a flavor, what would it be

You blink. Yeah, it’s a fucking stupid question.

Then smiles.

You: That’s what you say to the conversation?

You: Not some typical age and gender?

Stranger: Yeah. But don’t say vanilla. I’ll block u

You: Wow, okay.

You: Hm... mine’s probably like matcha and cherry chapstick

Stranger: Okay slut

You snort. That will likely offend you greatly if you come here in a bad mood or with a bad attitude. But fine, since you’re bored, you’ll try to entertain yourself with this.

You: U?

Stranger: Probably Coke and whiskey

That makes perfect sense because Coke and whiskey are a good combination. It’s not Coke-like drugs, but Coca-Cola.

You: You mean the drink, right...?

Stranger: Right, right.

The conversation flows smoothly and unfolds quickly. It’s really funny and chaotic, honestly.

You talked about random things, mostly stupid things. We even had a fake fight about which pasta was the best. Your answer is carbonara. His is spaghetti. He admits to getting banned from Tinder for making his bio say, “just here to fuck and psychoanalysis how you after sex,” and people thought he was a poser or catfish too. Probably implying to you he looks good. It’s messy, stupid, and weirdly comfortable for two people who don’t know each other’s names.

You check the time. 3:37 a.m.

You: Damn, how are u still here?

Stranger: Insomnia. Boredom. Maybe because you make the conversation interesting

You: Wow. Smooth.

Stranger: I try

Stranger: Can I say something?

You: What something?

You: Do I wanna know?

Stranger: Depends on how lonely you are tonight

Your breath catches. Confused about what he meant. Ah, yes, you also exchanged information, but not in a too-personal manner. There’s a pause. You stare at the message. Like it knows something you don’t.

You: …say it

Stranger: I keep wondering what you taste like when you’re half-asleep and lazy about it

You freeze. It’s not some overreacting freeze; it’s more like staring dumbly at your screen.

You: Wow

Stranger: Too far?

You: A little bit

Stranger: If you wanna end the chat, it’s okay

You stare at the message. Like, really stare at it.

You could close the tab or end it intentionally. Perhaps you can thank me for the weird conversation and return to the part where you try (and fail) to sleep. You could reason out that you’ll do something. Or shut off your phone so you won’t get disconnected. You don’t even know what this guy looks like. You’ve never heard his voice. He could be a serial killer or what.

But you don’t close it.

You type instead.

You: Nah

You: Didn’t expect that ...://

Stranger: What did u expect

Stranger: U typed cherry chapstick like u weren’t tryna start shit earlier

You: Hey, I am genuine with that one

You: And maybe I was bored

Stranger: And now?

You: Still bored. just… warmer

Your heart skips a little after sending it. You don’t know why you admitted that. You know it’s true. You’re not really uncomfortable in the conversation. Honestly, you want to explore it more.

Stranger: Mmm

Stranger: Good

Stranger: Bored and warm’s a nice combo

Stranger: Makes people honest

You type and delete it. On his end, it keeps showing the stranger is typing. You don’t respond right away. You’re biting your lip. Tugging at your shirt. Your thighs press together without meaning to.

Stranger: Hey, cherry chopsticks

Stranger: Still there?

You: Yeah

Stranger: Wanna do something stupid with me?

God. You swallow. Okay, okay, that’s where you will draw the line! You will end it now. You swear. But it’s anonymous. It’s nothing. You’re never gonna meet this guy. You’re just killing time until sleep comes to you.

That’s all it is.

You: Okay

You: How stupid

Stranger: Tell me what you’re wearing

You stare at that message like it’s a trap. If you answer it, something irreversible will happen.

Because you could lie. Maybe lies about some information about what he’s asking. It’s not like he’s going to know. Say you’re wearing something sexy or perhaps lingerie. Just go thirst him more.

You could close the tab.

But you don’t.

You: Ugh

You: Shirt

Stranger: And?

You: Just a shirt and shorts, okay

Stranger: Nothing underneath?

You bite the inside of your cheek. You hate that he guessed that. Maybe it’s too obvious. Most women don’t prefer not to sleep with a bra on.

You: I didn’t plan on chatting with strangers tonight, lol

Stranger: I didn’t plan on jerking off with strangers tonight either, but here we are

You feel your stomach flip. Not in a gross way. Not in a warning way. Just… dizzy. It feels buzzing and hot, that kind.

You: You’re really doing that? haha

Stranger: My hand’s been in my sweats for like 10 mins now

Stranger: You’re hot

Stranger: Even without a face

You don’t know what to say to that. It’s unhinged. It’s... fuck, you never get to that point before when you’re on this site. When they start saying things like this, you’ll end the chat. No one’s ever said it like that. Maybe there is. But not precisely, you encountered it.

You: You’re crazy

Stranger: A little

Stranger: Wanna help me?

You feel your legs shift again, shut them close, rubbing them together a little more. Feel your skin heated. You shouldn’t want this. You shouldn’t be doing this.

But god, you’re so bored. And tired. And warm. And trembling already.

You: Okay

Stranger: Yeah?

You: Yeah

You: Tell me what to do

Stranger: Take the shirt off

You: What if I’m cold lol

Stranger: Bet your nipples are already hard anyway, so it doesn’t matter

Stranger: I wanna picture it

You: You’re fucked up

You: That’s... ugh

Stranger: Yeah

Stranger: So, take it off

You do. Fuck. You could just say in the chat that you did it even though you didn’t. But your fingers shake a little. You followed what he said and threw your shirt somewhere in your bed. Your screen lights your bare skin faintly, shadows moving across your chest when you shift. You know he can’t see you. That’s what makes it worse. Or better.

You: Okay, it’s off

Stranger: Fuck

Stranger: You are touching yet?

You: No

You: I was waiting for you to say it

Stranger: Good girl

Stranger: Put your fingers in your mouth first

You: ?

Stranger: Wanna imagine how wet you are before you even touch

Stranger: And bet your mouth’s drooling just thinking about it

Your thighs press together again, just trying to get pressure from the tiny movement. You don’t even realize you’re doing it until you read that again and go still.

You: I hate you

Stranger: Do it

You: Did

You: Uhm, fingers...

You: Wet

Stranger: Fuck

Stranger: Now rub

You insert your hand underneath your shorts and panties. You did what he instructed you, slowly and lazily, as if your body was being controlled by him. Just barely tracing your clit. It’s not even good yet. You’re just testing the water at this point.

You: Mmm

Stranger: Yeah?

Stranger: Fuck yourself a little

You: 2 fingers

You: Ugh

Stranger: Bet it’s tight

Stranger: Fuck, I wanna ruin you

Stranger: Throat, pussy, whatever you’ll give me

Stranger: I wanna keep you fucked out and dumb all night

Stranger: Ruin you till you forget your own name

Your breath stutters. You press your palm down and try not to moan even though there’s no one around to hear.

You: Say more

You: Pls

You’re hardly able to type. You’re already breathless, hand sliding wetly between your thighs again, screen dimmed just enough to feel this is wrong, like a secret, like you’re not totally exposed. Your pulse jumps as his typing bubble appears.

Stranger: Wanna pin you down

Stranger: Make you gag on my cock while you finger yourself

Stranger: Fuck your throat till you cry

Stranger: And then stuff your cunt so full you can’t even think

Stranger: Going to fuck you raw

Stranger: I’d spit on you and make you say thank you

Stranger: I’d keep going even when you say you can’t

You just stare at his multiple messages as if he knows it’s turning you on reading them. You are probably imagining it already with some faceless man in your head. Your stomach flips. Your legs are already shaking, two fingers deep and dripping. You whimper as you type, back arching off the bed.

You: Fuuuck

Stranger: Yeah?

Stranger: How deep are your fingers right now

Stranger: Tell me

Your eyes move from the phone to your hand as your knuckles and palms glisten. Your inner thighs are sticky, messy, and flushed.

You: Knuckles

You: Palm, maybe

You: I’m fucking wet

You: Pls

You: It’s so messy rn

Your hand’s already so soaked. Your fingers are curled tight inside you, clenching each time you thrust it smoothly and to your liking. You’re making a mess of the sheets, thighs sticky, flushed everywhere. You don’t even want to look down because it’s humiliating how wet you are. How much you need him to keep talking. Humiliating because you're being spoken to in such a manner by a stranger.

Stranger: God, I’d bury my face in it

Stranger: Tongue all over your clit

Stranger: Going to suck your clit and kiss your slit

Stranger: Fuck you with it until you scream

Stranger: Eat you til you sob for it

Stranger: Like it’s the last meal I’ll ever have

You whine, thighs closing together. Trapping your hand between it. You’re already beating and twitching around your fingers just from reading it. You imagine it.  His mouth is hot and open against you, messy and greedy, his grip bruising your hips as he eats you while you’re grinding into his mouth.

Your legs are trembling. Your clit is throbbing, aching, begging for touch.

And your fingers are still knuckle deep inside your cunt and still thrusting lazily, just enough to get pleasure. So yeah, you’re completely fucked because words shouldn’t do this to you, but you’re so horny, and he needs to scratch the itch.

You: You’re disgusting

Stranger: You like it tho

Stranger: Your pussy’s dripping all over your fingers, rn.

You: No

You: Shut up

You: You’re not even real

You don’t know why you said that. That he’s not real. Maybe because you know after this, you’ll end the chat. Forget him. That this is just one wild bored moment, and you just got horny. But he is. He’s real in your phone and the cause of the slick between your legs. He’s real in how you’re grinding into your hand and trying to get off.

Stranger: I’m hard as fuck rn

Stranger: Stroking slow

Stranger: Rubbing the pre to the tip

Stranger: Thinking about your cunt choking my fingers

Your breath hitch. You’re clenching down around nothing now because you pull out your fingers before sliding wetly back in with your wrist trembling, whole body hot, and legs shaking a little.

You want him here in your bed so bad it fucking makes you almost type if he wants to meet up right now. You don’t even know if you’re in the same state or even the same country. You want his fingers inside you instead. You know it’s longer, thicker, and rougher. You want his knuckles brushing against your clit as he thrusts it in, fuck, how will he sound when he whispers in your ear? His hand is holding your wrist down when you twitch, from how much it’s all too much.

You: I can’t stop

You: It’s so warm

Stranger: Rub your clit

Stranger: Just one finger

Stranger: Go slow

One finger on your clit. Just like he said.

You do. You listen and switch from fingers inside to rubbing your clit. That stupid little part of you that never listens to men like this fuck, you never liked to be told what to do, never talks to men like this. That part of you? She’s gone. She drowned in slick, in the low beating of your own pulse pounding between your thighs.

You whimper, actually whimper out loud while you follow him, legs twitching. Your soaked fingers are still on your clit, and when you circle it over and over, your eyes roll. Your back arches just a little. You’re so far gone, and it’s actually embarrassing and disgusting. Thighs jerking every time his messages pop up. He’s just words on a screen, but fuck... making you get off. It’s so dumb how good it feels. How this stranger, this faceless, nameless boy, has you folding like this.

You’re soaked. You’re dripping. And you’re still not close to done.

Stranger: Still holding it?

Stranger: Be good for me

Shit. Be good for him? Why he’s talking like that. Why he’s praising you. You don’t even answer. You are nod like he can see you. You know he didn’t. You know he’s not here. You bite the edge of your blanket and rub tighter circles, trying to keep your hips from lifting and grinding at it.

You type with one hand, fingers almost slipping, and the phone nearly falling to your face. You can’t even type properly

You: Mmm i cant take jt

You: Pleaseplease csn i cum

You: So vlose

Stranger: Fuck

Stranger: Okay

Stranger: Cum for me, baby

Fuck. Then after his permission you come. So hard you choke on it. A sob in your throat, your body folding, shuddering. Your legs are kicking out under the blanket. Hitting it left to right. You can’t even manage to stay still. Your toes are curling, too.

You: Fucfkkk

Your hand’s still between your legs. You’re soaked, your thighs, your fingers still twitching like they still want something. Your chest is panting a little while your eyes are closed and open; you don’t know what to do.

Stranger: That was so hot

Stranger: You still there?

You didn’t reply for a moment and let yourself catch your breath. Thank fuck for your good connection because you’re not disconnecting from this chat while you’re not replying. Your hand’s still gone, but you haven’t moved it yet. There’s heat trapped everywhere, in your neck, in your hips, curling lazy and slick between your thighs like you’re still trembling from it.

Your legs are like a bent spring. Your chest’s rising too fast. The screen’s glowing beside you, still waiting.

You: Did u cum too ...?

You typed out. I didn’t know why you were even concerned about it. For fuck all you know, he’s not really doing anything. But you can’t help but get curious. You imagine him leaning back, spent, his lips parted just a tiny bit, probably still holding his phone in one hand while the other one is sticky, especially in his pal.

Stranger: Yeah

Stranger: It got on my screen, lol

You cover your cheek with your blanket, feeling embarrassed by his message. Maybe you’re blushing, not that you notice it. You’ll just disguise it as your body’s reaction to your orgasm.

You: Gross

But you’re smiling, biting the corner of your bottom lip. It’s that dumb smile, even though your fingers are damp and you haven’t moved an inch. There’s something about the fact that he came, too. Perhaps you feel reassured knowing that he enjoyed it too. Somehow. Like, wow, you really did that. From just chatting with him, or probably he’s already too horny, so it’s inevitable. Not that you care much about it.

You: You’re disgusting

Stranger: You liked it

Stranger: Admit it

You: Maybe

You: Shut up

Your thighs flutter again. You roll onto your side, toes tracing the sheets as if they’ll do anything to cool you down.

Stranger: Can’t stop picturing you

Stranger: Bet you looked so fucking pretty cumming

You take a deep breath. You let your fingers away from your cunt and from the slick of your inner thighs. There’s a burning in your ears like it depends on how he messages you, and it’s not even yours anymore. It’s him, somehow. It depends on every line he types and how he describes it.

Fuck. That was disgusting. Do you literally think about that? Boredom will lead you to do things you will not return for. Like this one. Particularly this one, yeah.

You: You’re actually gross

Stranger: And you still didn’t skip

Stranger: An hour ago, you said you were bored

Stranger: Still bored?

You: No lol

You: Kinda feel like I need sleep now

You: Maybe I need to touch myself to fall asleep

He doesn’t reply. Well, at least not quickly, as he always does throughout your conversation. You almost think he left, that it’s over, that he got what he wanted, he cummed, got dirty, and satisfied his horniness like most guys on here do. However, the bubble then pops back up.

Stranger: Hey

Stranger: This is gonna sound dumb, but

Stranger: Wanna exchange socials?

Oh. You blink. Once. Twice. Then again. You just stared at it for a while. Your body’s still high from earlier, flushed and naked under the sheets, and now your heart and stomach are doing that stupid flip thing. Nervous. Overthinking. Fuck.

Stranger: You don’t have to btw

Stranger: But I liked talking to you

Stranger: Not just the… yk

You are still not replying; you are just still biting your lip. Shit. You should end the chat now. You swear that this was it. That’s it. Yeah. Never exchange social media with them, as you always do. The part swears it’s just for fun, just for the night, that gets off and signs out. She’s quiet now. Real quiet. Like she’s mute.

You: Maybe

You: Depends on what ur profile looks like

You: If we’re ugly, I’m blocking u on everything

Stranger: Bold of you to assume I’m not hot

Stranger: I’ll send mine first

You: …fine

You: But if you catfish me, I’m calling the FBI

Stranger: Deal

Stranger: Here’s my IG

Stranger: @rafe.cameron

He drops the username without hesitation. He’s so sure of himself that women will enjoy what they see. They will het flutter if they talk to a stranger who looks like that.

You stare at it. Just wondering if it’s really his or if he just randomly drops someone’s handle. Your fingers hover. You haven’t even typed yours yet.

You: Oh

You: You are so unserious

Stranger: Dead serious, actually

Stranger: Go look

Stranger: I’ll wait

Curiosity wins.

It always does.

Curiosity kills the cat, they say.

You can quickly switch tabs and open Instagram from there. Your brain is still dumb and high off him, of how he talked to you like you were his, like your noises were made for him.

Paste his handle in the search, wait for it to load, and then view his profile. And then...

“Oh fuck,” you whisper to yourself like anyone’s here to hear it. Like anyone could possibly believe this shit. Like you are talking to him.

Jesus. Is this really him?

Like, him him. Tan lines and dark hair. A jaw looks too good, which makes you want to lick it. One too many shirtless mirror pics in his highlights and a follower count that makes your stomach drop.

Rafe Cameron.

You: What the fuck

You: What the actual fuck

You: Ur famous

You: You have many followers

That is him. Right? But you still doubt it, kinda. The guy who made you cum with just his chat. Who called you baby. Who told you how pretty you sounded when you begged.

You scroll. Just once. To check the preview of what his feed will look like. Just enough to feel your thighs press tighter together before you go back to the site to check his profile.

Stranger: Follow me

Stranger: I’ll follow back

Stranger: Don’t act shy now

Stranger: You literally came just talking to me

Stranger: And now you’re embarrassed?

Your cheeks heated. You move under the covers as if it will do shit, like you’re not already wet again, just reading his tone.

You: I didn’t think you were real

You: Like a normal person

You: Not some…

You stop. Don’t even finish the thought. He’s enough to ruin you. Smug enough to know it.

You: I hate you

Stranger: No, you don’t

Stranger: I’ll be in your head for days

He already is. And this shit makes you want to actually talk to him. Maybe you’re more attracted to him now.

You pause. Hesitant for a moment. Then you follow him.

Three seconds later:

@rafe.cameron followed you back

Oh. That’s really him. Shit. That’s really him. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.  Your stomach flips. Your skin crawls on your body.

Stranger: There we go

Stranger: Night baby

You: Fuck off

You managed to say that before “Stranger has disconnected” shows the screen. You left the site and went to Instagram to stalk him again. You’re smiling. Well, not really. You’re more likely grinning. You’re still heated and wet. Your panties are soaked around one ankle like some whorey medal you are showing. You’re too busy staring at his name.

Rafe fucking Cameron.

It sounded too sexy. His name will probably sound more sexy when you moan it. Your pussy spasms like it remembers every second since his words slid into your head, every word typed out by some cocky stranger that was too full of himself.

You open his profile again.

It’s worse the second time. This time. The tagged photos, the stories, every new picture sends a fresh jolt to your cunt like you’re putting it on an electric socket. Thirst traps on yachts. It’s a beach pic with his hand in some girl’s waist, but it’s just a back photo. Jesus fuck, that mirror selfie. He’s in the bathroom. The towel is so low that it’s showing his v line. Fuck... The body is well-defined but not excessively muscular. Just enough to catch women’s attention.The caption?

@rafe.cameron: Just showered. Missed a spot?

You choke on your spit in your mouth. Literally choke. Your pussy flutters like it knows he meant you.

Your finger twitches, and you tap through the highlights like it’s some boudoir folder, and every image makes your pussy clench harder. His jawline. That golden skin. His hands hang low near his hips like he knows exactly where you want them.

God. You hate him. Hate that he made you come to chat. Hate that he’s so attractive. Hate him. That is concerning to feminists because you want him to fuck you like some whore. Hate that your cunt’s still greedy, still wanting for more, that your hand is already creeping back to your tits as it belongs there.

But it doesn’t stay long there; your hand moves lower in a slow, familiar feeling taking over. Your fingers dip between your legs, tracing the mess he left behind. You’re so wet it’s embarrassing. It’s slippery, soaked, and obscene.

Your thumb circles your clit once. You shiver, and you press harder before rubbing faster. Then, because you’re disgusting and already past the part where you will pretend you’re not sexually attracted,, and horny again, your fingers slide inside like they’ve been waiting forever.

You moan. Soft, shaky, breathless right into the empty room. The stretch around your pussy is perfect, especially since you haven’t touched yourself recently. It feels like you’ve been aching for it. You imagine it’s him. His fingers, long and rough and thick, whispering... Already dripping? Jesus, baby. What’d I do to you?

You grind up into your own hand like a bitch in heat. From the first grind, it’s already slick and more filthier. Your fingers work in the push and pull, in and out, while your thumb rubs your clit just enough, maybe just some flicks. Your phone still glows in your other hand, his face watching you fall apart from that one Instagram post. Smiling, all sun-bleached confidence and a hot body.

It’s like you’re stalking him because of something. Maybe the idea of his picture staring at you excites you. Want him to see this. It is to know how fast you get worked up. That he made you finger yourself with just one sentence and a username.

Your legs start shaking. You’re so fucking close.

That made you zoom in on his pictures. Zooming is the area where you get turned on the most. And shit, every new image makes your pussy clench harder. Made you pump your fingers harder, faster. Made you panting quietly and try to stay quiet.

And when you come? It’s something. Sloppy. A wet rush that makes your fingers slip, and your hips shake and thrust forward repeatedly. You moan into the pillow, biting it, praying no one hears. It’s loud. Ugly. The kind of orgasm that leaves you twitching, gasping, some post-nut clarity.

When you finally stop, you’re limp. A little. Your thighs managed to get tired this time. And your wrist, too. You lie there, still flushed and soaked, panties bunched around your ankle like a trophy. Tits out. Hair matted to your forehead.  Your body slacks with leftover heat. Your fingers are still slick and sticky. Your phone is still open to his account, a disgusting mess of slick thighs and a shameful self.

You don’t chat with him like he expected you to. Well, it’s not that you are expecting him to think that. No. Well, maybe a little.

If you close the app like that, it will help you erase what happened. Like whoever god there didn’t already see you finger yourself hard over some pictures of a stranger you met from that shitty site.

Jesus fucking Christ.

What was that?

Seriously. What the actual fuck was that.

And you stare at the ceiling, half sleepy, flushed, pussy still quivering like it’s got a mind of its own. Chest rising like you just got hit by a truck full of shame.

Your clit’s still throbbing.

“Jesus Christ,” you whisper, like maybe God’s taking calls tonight.

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓© 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

[wosospacegirl]

teen!Barca player teaching the Spanish players tik tok slang would be so funny 😂😂

Lost in the Slangverse - barça! teen reader

Summary: Y/n pranks Alexia and Olga by speaking only in Gen Z slang and TikTok memes.

Warnings: Chronic online behaviour and TikTok brainrot.

Word count: 2.1k

notes: sorry but I changed it a bit to include Olga

..

“I don't understand why I should do that,” Y/n whispered to Vicky and Jana. “Why don't you do it?”

The three girls were standing in a circle in the corner of the changing room. Training had just ended, and they were all sweaty and gross.

It didn't help y/n's already grumpy mood when Jana pulled her arm out of nowhere when she was getting ready to get in the shower.

Jana had said it was something urgent, and Vicky, who was by her side, had nodded along.

Y/n’s eyes almost got stuck in her skull when Vicky said they wanted Y/n to make a TikTok video with Alexia using gen slang that Alexia most definitely didn't know.

The girls now were arguing but kept their voices low, so the senior girls wouldn’t overhear them behind the lockers.

“Because you're the good kid! An angel! The apple of Alexia’s eyes’’ Vicky said, smiling enthusiastically.

“Me? The apple of Alexia’s eyes?” Y/n asked, confusion on her face as she pointed to herself. “She made me run 2 kilometres last night as a punishment because I talked back to Olga.”

“Well… maybe not the good kid then,” Jana said. “But the best kid between us three, nonetheless.”

“Yeah,” Vicky agreed with Jana. “ if Jana or I do it, they'll know something’s up.”

“Exactly! Plus, you're closer to Alexia, so you can say stuff without it looking suspicious!” Jana added. “You’ll make more content.”

“I'll look suspicious either way,” Y/n said, narrowing her eyes “I don't even stay on my phone that much, they'll notice that.”

“You realise you are a shame for every teenager out there, right?” Jana asked deadpan. “What are you going to say next, that you and Olga knit on Friday nights?”

Y/n blushed because…yes. They did that. She lifted a finger, ready to defend herself, but Vicky interrupted her, disappointment on her face.

“Just..stop being boring for once in your life? Please?” Vicky said. 

Vicky gave Y/n her best puppy eyes.

“Come on, Y/n, we are for lifers, right?” Jana stood next to Vicky with, the same big, puppy eyes.

“Ugh…fine, wherever,” Y/n said, crossing her arms. “I’ll do it, but you're helping me with my homework next week–and the next.“

“Deal!” they both said, grinning, victory on their faces.

“And you are the ones picking up the balls after training,” Y/n added. “I hate doing that…Pina always kicks them far away on purpose.” 

“Alright by us,” the girls agree, almost in a singing tone. 

“And I won't help Cat out of its costume for a month! It will be all you two.”

“O-okay?” Vicky and Jane said, less enthusiastic. 

Now they were wondering how much this TikTok really cost.

“Y/n!” Alexia called from the other side of the room.

“I have to go,” Y/n whispered, but before she could leave their hiding spot, Alexia bumped into her.

 “Oh, there you are,’ Alexia said with a smile" "Let's go ho—wait, you didn’t shower yet?”

Alexia looked at Y/n as if she came back from the sty, when-in truth–she was just a little sweaty. 

Y/n looked up and tried to act casual, leaning on her elbow in one of the lockers. It belonged to Aitana…she hated when people got close to her locker.

“Hm, no I didn't,” Y/n looked around trying to find an excuse. “We were way  too busy talking about–”

“School,” Y/n finally said. Good, a safe choice.

“Football,” Vicky chimed in. Also good, and very convincing. 

“You!” Jana blurted out. Horrible, terrible choice.

The two of them shot Jana an annoyed look, rolling their eyes.

‘What, Jana?’ Vicky mouthed, trying to turn her body from Alexia so she couldn't read her lips. ‘Talking about Alexia?’

‘Tonta,” [stupid] Y/n mouthed back, rolling her eyes, before turning to Alexia, who was still looking confused.

“Sorry, Ale, we were really busy here…socialising,” Y/n said. “I’ll shower when we get home.”

“Mm, okay,” Alexia said, still puzzled. “Grab your stuff. We’re picking up Olga on the way home.”

..

As Alexia and Y/n made their way through Barcelona’s car park, Y/n was happily skipping, heading to the passenger’s seat in Alexia's car.

“Nope, kid,” Alexia said, pushing Y/n’s backpack toward her. “We’re picking up Olga. She’s going in the passenger seat.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”

“Yep,” Alexia said, pointing to the back seat. “You go there.”

It was a perfect opportunity. 

Y/n took her phone very stealthily and pressed record, keeping it close to her body so Alexia wouldn't see it. 

“Simp.”

“What?” Alexia asked, turning her head to Y/n. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?” Y/n asked, pretending she didn’t know what Alexia was talking about.

“What you just called me.”

“Oh, simp? It means you're a lost puppy when it comes to Olga.”

Alexia blushed. “Hey, I’m not like that.”

“Beta energy,” Y/n added, rolling her eyes.

“Beta? Are you speaking in code?”

“Nah, just speaking facts.” Y/n shrugged. “Are you gonna drive or leave Olga waiting?”

Alexia looked at Y/n weirdly but got in the car and began driving. Y/n’s phone was still in her hand, ready to film the next part of her–or well–Jana and Vicky’s prank.

Olga was working in a modelling event today, but she was already waiting for them when Alexia parked the car in front of the studio.

“Hi, girls,” Olga said, getting in and kissing Alexia on the lips. “How was your day?”

“It was good,” Alexia said, putting her hand on Olga’s tight. “We did some strength training, speed…all of that”

“Yeah, no cap, it was the worst.” Y/n chimed in while looking out the window and humming to the song playing. One direction. Oldie but goldie.

“No cap?” Olga asked, turning to Y/n, a frown on her face,

“Yeah,” Y/n said, adjusting her earbud. “No cap, training was like…brutal.”

“Okay, sure… but why is it ‘no cap’?”

..

When they got home, Y/n went straight to her room, dropping her training bag by the bed before heading to the shower.

After she was done, a notification popped up on her phone from a group chat with Jana and Vicky.

Vicky: hi, how’s it going?

Jana: hi?? @Y/n??

Y/n: Everything’s going according to plan.

Jana: Great! :D send me all the recordings later, and I’ll make a TikTok out of it.

Y/n: 👍

Vicky: why do u always text like a dad, bro.

Y/n closed the chat and went downstairs, sitting at the table in front of Alexia.

“What restaurant are we going today?” Y/n whispered

“I’m not sure yet,” Alexia whispered back, glancing around suspiciously. “It’ll depend on Olga’s mood.”

“I don't know why we insist on letting her cook!” Y/n said, rolling her eyes.

Alexia kicked her under the table. “Be nice!”

Before Y/n could argue, Olga emerged from the kitchen with... something.

She carried a big tray of what looked like ground beef, except the colour was all wrong—like it had spent way too much time in the oven. And the smell... Y/n could swear Olga had chopped up three entire onions and just thrown them in for fun.

Olga served Alexia and Y/n, putting a whole lot of food on their plate. Y/n stared at the plate in front of her. She poked it with her fork as she, very carefully, put her phone on the table and pressed play.

“Olga, you really got no rizz in the kitchen, huh?”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, you’re burning everything, so yeah, no rizz,” Y/n said disappointed. It was another day that they had to eat Olga’s bad food and then go out to eat in order not to starve.

“What? But it’s not that bad!” Olga said, staring at her own…creation. “It’s original.”

“It tastes bad,” Y/n murmured under her breath.

Olga ignored Y/n and turned to her girlfriend, who looked just as scared of the food as Y/n.

“Alexia, do you think I have no rizz?” Olga asked Alexia, giving her puppy eyes.

"Olguita, I’m not even sure what ‘rizz’ means," Alexia admitted, looking confused.

“Me neither,” Olga said. “But if it’s something good, then you think I have it?”

“Oh yeah, definitely.”

“Okay, that’s gross,” Y/n interrupted, grabbing up her phone. “Get a room.”

..

As per usual. The Putellas and the honorary Putella–Y/n– ended up in a restaurant. It was a Chinese one this time, the same one they had gone the last time Olga was responsible for cooking.

Y/n presser record while the waitress came to take their order. She was pretty but way older than Y/n.

“That’s my type, I fear,” Y/n said, as soon as the waitress went to another table.

Both Alexia and Olga looked at her confused.

“Your type?” Alexia asked. “What’s your type?”

Y/n pointed with her chin to the waitress.

“What? She’s your type?” Olga asked, turning from the waitress to Y/n. “So, you have a thing for…waitresses?

“I mean, you’ve seen the way she’s serving us... It’s giving heart eyes.” Y/n said casually.

“Heart eyes? What does that even mean?”” Olga asked. “Why have you been talking weird all day?”

Y/n just shrugged and pretended to play on her phone, but what she was really doing was getting the angle of the filming right to show Alexia’s face.

“Is this a joke? I’m lost...” Alexia said, turning to Olga. “Isn’t the waitress like, fifteen years older than her?”

“Well,” Y/n chimed in. “It’s just like that Kelly Clarkson cover, you know?”  

Y/n knew full well they had no clue what the hell she was talking about.

Alexia opened her mouth, closed it, and then turned to Olga like she was asking for help. Olga just shook her head, utterly lost.

“I feel like it's getting harder and harder to talk to you,” Olga said, clearly stressed. “I should probably buy a book about raising teens.”

“You're not my mom,” Y/n said in a singing voice, looking at the dessert section on the menu.

That petit gateau looked so good.

“Alexia will read it too,” Olga said, more to herself.

“I'll read what?” Alexia asked, looking up.

Y/n pretended she didn't see Alexia's phone playing a Barcelona match live on YouTube. 

Olga hated when Alexia watched football when they were out.

“A book about teen development,” Olga said. “This child is losing herself.”

“Yep, brain rot,” Y/n agreed.

“What?!” Olga asked, completely worried. “What is rotting?!”

Y/n ignored Olga and looked At Alexia.

“Can I please have the petit gateau, Ale?” Y/n asked with a pout.

“Ask Olga,” Alexia said, “You can if she lets you.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. 

“See, beta behaviour,” she murmured.

"Olguita, can I please—"

"No, Y/n."

"Damn."

In the end, Y/n earned her petit gateau after telling Olga she had alpha energy. Alexia didn’t like it, but the compliment made Olga happy enough to agree to dessert.

"Alpha energy? Olga?" Alexia scoffed. "She just told you no."

Y/n took a victorious bite of her petit gateau. "Yeah, and then I got what I wanted."

..

Unfortunately, for Y/n, that little prank she pulled got twisted around after a couple of days.

After a long training session, Alexia and Y/n came back home, and once again, Y/n didn’t take a shower at the training centre. Instead, she was procrastinating, lying on the sofa while watching Criminal Minds.

“Y/n, seriously,” Alexia said, putting her hands on her hips. “For the love of God, go take a shower.”

“I’m not that dirty,” Y/n said “It’s fine, I’ll go after this episode is over.”

“You smell like a sweaty gym sock,” Olga chimed in from behind her, wrinkling her nose.

“Okay, wow, thanks for the support,” Y/n said sarcastically, glaring at Olga. “

I’m just saying. The truth hurts. No cap.” Olga just shrugged, looking far too pleased with herself.

“Did you just say ‘no cap’?” Y/n raised an eyebrow, unable to hide her amusement.

Olga grinned. “Yeah, you heard me.”

“Oh no, where did you learn it?” Y/n said, turning to Alexia for backup. “Did Jana teach it to her?

“I don’t know,” Alexia shrugged."But what I do know is that you’re taking a shower now, bet.”

“Okay…” Y/n narrowed her eyes and turned the TV off. “I’m just going because you two are acting weird.

As Y/n walked toward the stairs Alexia called after her. “Please take a really long shower. We need some peace and quiet around here.”

Y/n ignored Alexia.

Tomorrow, she’d wake up to Alexia saying “no cap” in an interview. She could feel it.

..

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more of barça! teen reader here

[obeymeluv]

How You Spend the Night Together [Azul, Kalim, Vil]

Not proofread. I stayed up late writing this because I'm off tomorrow. Will proof-read tomorrow. Just wanted to get something out.

Azul had seen paintings of people in love. People being intimate. He'd salvaged unsent notes and journals while hunting for coins in the Coral Sea. He knew the definitions of words like passion and adoration but none of it made sense until he looked at you. You were half asleep, gazing at the aquarium wall built into his Housewarden room.

Taking on the mantle of Housewarden meant embodying the Sea Witch's spirit of benevolence and assuming care of the aquarium wall. As much as he believed creatures of the sea should be free, Azul took aquarium cultivation very seriously. The array of creatures and plants in it were depending on him! Much like Jade and his terrariums, Azul's budget was more flexible when it came to the wall. He and Sam had modified it (with Crowley's permission) so he could actually swim around in said wall when he wanted.

Part of the modifications included remote-controlled ambient lights. They were on a dimmer setting tailored to his own sleep schedule. You were bathed in blues, undertones of crystalline teal, and one of his hearts lurched painfully in his chest (he wasn't sure which one). Your eyes seemed to glow against the patchwork of blues, and all it once it hit him.

This is what the painters felt. It was something that could only be painted because words paled in comparison. Sure, things like adoration were close--certainly relevant--but not perfect.

You were, though.

The sheets piled around you reminded him of seafoam. All rumpled and wild twists. He could almost imagined you'd washed up on shore from the sea. Maybe he saved you from the sea itself.

"Are you reverting?!" you snapped up when he registered in the edge of your vision. He was just standing there, not responding! Suddenly you were throwing the top cover and sheets out of the way. Azul heard you fall. "Do I need to get Floyd? Jade? The potion's in your desk, right?"

"No treasure, I'm fine." Azul laughed, crawling onto the bed to stare over the edge at you. You were hopelessly tangled, one leg still swallowed in the silk. He hauled you up awkwardly, grabbing you by the leg and pulling you up with one hand as you relaxed with a heavy sigh. "Just mesmerized. That's all."

He pulled your leg into his lap, picking at folds in the sheets like he was prepping napkin rolls at his mother's restaurant. The heat of your skin was muffled and he relished the random brushes in the quest to set you free. Your skin was soft against his hands. Funny how he was setting you free when he was utterly trapped by you, hm?

Your leg now free, you laid back with him. Azul placed his glasses on the nearby nightstand, turning to face you and slide down into the sheets in one smooth motion. Yeah he had to squint to see, but getting close to your smile was worth it. "Good night, treasure."

You kissed the bridge of his nose and he wrinkled it reflexively. His eyes were an unfair kind of blue. A blue only Corelians could have, you thought. Your bodies moved together unconsciously, caught in a current of longing to be together after an even longer day. Azul snugged into the hand cupping his cheek as his looped around your waist. Come the morning your legs would be tangled together like something unholy but that was okay.

"Goodnight, Azul."

------ ------

Spending the night with Kalim wasn't just as simple as 'get changed, go to bed.' It usually involved helping Jamil tidy up Scarabia after another party. Jamil insisted time and time again that you didn't need to help, that you were a guest, but you famously told him 'then as a guest, I decide to help' and that was that. He secretly appreciated the help and Kalim found himself admiring your unapologetic assistance.

He didn't know how to describe it but you were like Jamil--fluid and natural to everything. You didn't miss a step cleaning up a room, straightening a pillow as you scooped another plate onto your stack and added a napkin to the wad in your other hand. Kalim trailed behind you like an excited puppy, trying to find something you or Jamil hadn't done so he could contribute.

When you're handed everything you could ever want and have the ability to do whatever you can think of, you don't realize how much you don't know. You don't know how much effort goes into things because it just shows up.

He wanted to show you that he could provide financially and physically. Kalim wanted to learn the independence his family was too scared to give him. Jamil let him do small things now and then but it was hard for the long-haired boy to beat down his lifelong training. His current task was splitting the stack of plates with you--he tried to take the whole stack but you refused because you were competent and stubborn--and taking them into the kitchen to be washed. When Jamil determined there were no more knives left in the sudsy water, Kalim was allowed to wash and dry them with you.

It was the most he'd done in a kitchen, he thought. Aside from chasing his siblings in and out of one or stealing snacks before a banquet. You'd more than proved yourself to Jamil by now; he knew it was safe to leave Kalim in your care while he retired for the night.

It's just as well; Kalim has a habit of sending him away when he wants to be alone with you. He tries to give Jamil as much freedom as he can without either of them getting in trouble. Dishes done and kitchen tidied, you gave him permission to get ready for bed.

He's not sure why that filled him with such excitement but it was like the first time every time. Kalim thought it weird a handful of times, when it would hit him like a spelldrive disk, but it didn't bother him.

It was a happy weird. One that would send him blabbing Jamil's ear off about your potential wedding until he was ready to strangle him.

What if every night was like this?!

Another giggle escapes him--you shush him lest he wake his dormmates--as you pull him into his Housewarden room. It's a massive, beautiful room with arching windows that open onto a balcony. The door is heavy and you shut it as quietly as possible. Moonlight illuminates the room, sliding over the desk and luxurious canopy bed until it touches the bathroom.

You change behind the large curtain framing the windows; it's thick enough to give a suggestion of you but not a peek. Kalim curses softly in his language, looking away from you to free his arm from the now-tangled scarf.

That's what happens when he tries to take off too much at one time.

"You look so pretty, qalbi!" Kalim peppers your face with kisses as you meet him in the middle of the room. You giggle, hugging him and swaying.

"You act like you've never seen it before! You bought it!"

It was some kind of fancy nighttime set popular in the Scalding Sands.

"Still pretty." Kalim hums, his head against your shoulder as you walk him to the bathroom. He undoes the ribbon and bejeweled circlet, revealing messy white hair. You slide a headband onto his head as he places the circlet on a velvet pillow. The sink in his Housewarden bathroom is basically big enough to be a counter! Jewelry holders of all shapes and sizes lead to the faucet, the other side framed with hygiene products.

Kalim can do it with his eyes closed and has done it a million times before but he always stretches the moment. He tilts your head this way and that, tickling your chin and cupping just underneath it as he fashions his ribbon into something that will hold your hair and frame your face. It's supposed to keep your hair safe while you sleep. You open some rose-scented toner pads one of his sisters sent, sticking them on his cheeks and forehead. He returns the favor before setting out a bowl and mixing a handful of things his mother gave him.

"It's for your hands." he's mixing and checking, mixing and checking until he's satisfied. He scoops some in his hands, coats his, and grabs yours. This was a new thing but it very appreciated! He's massaging your hands and you're melting in his. You're very close to sleeping standing up when he turns the water on and washes your hands for you.

You blink awake as he's picking the toner pads off your face. "To bed, hayati, to bed." he takes your super-soft hand and you climb into the bed together. You feel yourself dissolving into the piles of plush pillows, your last conscious thought is Kalim pressing tight against you and being deathly still as Jamil starts to open the door and check on you.

----- ------

An evening with Vil was scheduled but relaxed. It was a result of growing up in auditions and networking. "There's always time for something," he liked to say, "And it's whatever you choose to make time for."

You catch yourself staring at him like the lovesick fool you are, not because he's THE Vil Schoenheit, but because he's made time in his schedule for you. At this point in the evening, Pomfiore has finished dinner and their post-meal stretches. He's done his rounds as Housewarden and checked on his dormmates. Everyone has retired to their rooms for the evening, pursuing whatever their hearts desire.

He leads by example, as a good Housewarden does. His little desire is at the edge of the bed making smoochy eyes at him.

Well...you looked at him like you loved him and that was fine, too. He'd be okay if you actually wanted to give him smoochy eyes. You would if he could be as reckless and free as Rook encouraged. It was a near-daily conversation you weren't aware of. Vil was confident on runway, the stage, and the screen but he couldn't bring himself to kiss you spontaneously or bury you under a mountain of love notes even though it was a constant thought.

He was just too regimented for that. Romance is supposed to be planned and grand, not hasty and rash! The idea of sweeping you into a crushing hug or swatching his lipstick collection all over your face behind a locked door was extremely tempting. He's just at a delicate spot with his career and can't afford to be passionate and free; it may lose deals and get you a lot of unwanted attention.

Vil looks at you over the edge of Perfectly Wicked Potions and Poisons, grinning to himself. His eyes crinkle at the corner and he can't even bring himself to fret. You just inspire that much joy in him. Future crow's feet are a small price to pay for these little moments where he doesn't have to worry about agents, managers, or devout fans.

Like Rook, your presence soothes him. He delights in having you nearby.

"What are you doing, Potato?" Vil tries to focus on the words in front of him but it's not working.

"Just looking at my boyfriend being all relaxed."

It's such a simple answer but there's no crazed-fan gloating in it. It's genuinely touching.

"Relaxed but lacking," he laments, book tilted towards his still-painted lips but careful not to touch. "I'm in need of my Potato."

You giggle, squishing yourself into the padded armchair with him. He laughs, cradling you with one arm as you slide your feet under the other to hang off the chair. The armchair is deep enough that it works. Your back is supported by his arm and the chair, he gets to put his chin on top of your head. Vil plants his elbow gently into your thigh, bringing the book back up to his face. Comforted by warmth and weight, he makes it through a few pages until you knit yourself ever closer and reach behind him to remove the ornate hairclip.

He'd forgotten it was in there, honestly, and it feels good to have his hair down. Vil hums, book threatening to slide out of his hand as you work his scalp gently with one hand. His violet eyes slide shut, head tilting back. "I didn't see anything about wicked potatoes in my book but wicked you are, my darling." Vil murmurs.

"Want me to stop?"

"In the chair? Reluctantly. In the bed? No." Vil summons the energy to put the book down, breezing over to the bed with you in his arms. He taps you on the nose with a painted nail, smirking at you as he disappears to hang his Housewarden outfit up. You close your eyes as he changes, only opening them when he's at the bedside pinching your shoulder gently. It starts a small trade-off of shoulder massages.

His alarm goes off about twenty minutes later. You follow him to the attached bathroom, brushing your teeth as he washes his face. Vil puts undereye patches on the two of you. He relaxes into the bed like he's boneless, content that he's done everything on his schedule for the day.

He's rewarded with completionist's satisfaction. He'd also liked to be rewarded with more hair-playing. Cheeks blooming pink, Vil nudges his head towards you. Half asleep now, you bring your hand up to massage his scalp. "Goodnight, Vil."

"Goodnight, Potato."

[bloomseishiro]

THE WAY TO NAGI’S HEART…IS FOOD

౨ৎ — your next door neighbor is pretty strange. he falls asleep outside his apartment, doesn’t know how to cook, and survives off of lemon tea and jellies. but he’s also cute, oddly funny, and looks great in grey sweatpants. 

nagi seishiro x reader. fluff, neighbor au, cw: alc, reader can cook everyone say yes chef <3, i’ve been in a writing slump and this is the first fic i actually really liked writing in a while :3 i hope it shows hehe pls enjoy! xx

word count. 2.4k

When you first moved into your new apartment, the last thing you expected to see was your next door neighbor asleep at his front door.

You walked by his slumped body with concern. All your survival instincts were telling you to walk straight by him and enter your own apartment, but your heart stirred in slight guilt at the thought of ignoring him.

Sure, your apartment was in a relatively safe neighborhood, but you never knew what could happen. Sighing, you went against your better judgment and approached him, gently shaking his shoulder. The white-haired man’s eyes startled open as he stirred awake.

“Hm?” was the only noise that came out of his mouth.

You blinked, shifting your weight from foot-to-foot as your gaze darted away from his. “Er— Sorry for waking you, but…is there a reason you’re sleeping outside?”

He looked around with half-lidded eyes, as if only just now taking in his surroundings. “Oh. Right. Not really. Just got too lazy to unlock the door.”

You nodded slowly, trying to keep your expression neutral as your brain struggled to make sense of his log. “Oh, okay. I see.” You didn’t see.

“Mhm.”

He finally made a move to stand up, yawning as he fished his keys out of his front pocket. You wondered how he could’ve possibly been too lazy to unlock the door when his keys were simply in his pocket, but you tried not to judge. Everyone had those days, after all. Well, not you. But maybe other people…

Before opening his door, your neighbor turned back to look at you. “Thanks for waking me, though.” 

You smiled brightly. “Anything for my new neighbor! I’ll see you around…”

“Nagi,” he supplied, lifting his hand to wave goodbye. “See you.” 

──── ᢉ𐭩 ────

The next time you saw your neighbor was when you stood outside his door with a giant glass tupperware of fish soup.

Lately, you’ve been trying to learn how to cook instead of relying on eating out or surviving off of convenience store meals. It was going rather well, you had to brag. Except for the fact that the recipes you found online seemed to have horrible serving size estimates and you would occasionally find yourself with enough food to feed a small family of giants. It was certainly too much for one person living on their own.

Soon after you knocked on the door, your neighbor opened it a crack, peeping his head out. Once he spotted you, he nodded in greeting and opened the door fully.

“Oh. It’s you. Hi.”

“Hi there,” you said sheepishly, holding the container of soup in your arms. “Do you, um, want some soup?”

Nagi blinked and opened his mouth, but before he could get any words out, you began to ramble on.

“I hope you don’t think it’s weird or anything!” you exclaim in a rush. “I just made way too big of a portion and figured it would be better to share the food than have it rot away in my fridge all week.”

He tilted his head to the side before shrugging. “Sure, soup sounds great. What kind of fish?”

“Seabass,” you stated happily, excited you get to share your cooking with someone. “But, well, don’t expect it to taste that good! I’m still learning how to cook…”

“It’ll probably taste better than lemon tea and jellies,” said Nagi.

“One can hope.”

You extended the tupperware out to him and he accepted it with a small smile. You noticed he was wearing some baggy grey sweats and a plain white shirt, but somehow he still looked quite attractive. The disheveled look works for some people, you guessed.

Shooting him a dimpled smile in return, you waved and took a step back, not wanting to overstay your welcome.

“Well, I’ll head back now. Time for me to do some tidying up before bed!” you chirped, getting ready to walk back to your apartment right next door. “I’ll see you next time?”

He nodded. “See you soon. And thanks for the food.”

“You’re welcome,” you said. “Let me know how you like it!”

──── ᢉ𐭩 ────

Your third interaction with Nagi happened when he came over to return your tupperware. Unfortunately for the both of you (or, fortunately, in hindsight), you had just returned from a drunk night out with your closest friends. 

“Ooh, Nagi!” you cheered excitedly when you saw him waiting outside your door. Throwing your door open all the way, you beckoned for him to come inside. “I’ve missed your pretty face!”

His eyes widened ever so slightly, but if he was annoyed, he didn’t complain. “Really? I saw you like, three days ago.”

“Three days too many!” you whined, taking your jacket off and throwing it onto the arm of your couch. Since you had just gotten home, you still had to get ready for bed. Your absolute least favorite part about going out. “Did you need something? Do you like dogs?”

“I’m more of a cactus person,” he answered, much to your confusion. Was a cactus also a pet? “Why, do you have a dog?”

“No. I want one though. I want a puppy soooo bad!” you gushed, your lower lip jutting out at the thought of a cute little puppy running around your apartment. “Like a Yorkiepoo! Or a golden retriever. Or…a Pomeranian! I guess, any dog really. Wait…why are you here again?” 

“To bring you a dog.” 

Your eyes widened in awe. Did Christmas come early this year? “Really?!”

“No.” Nagi held out the empty glass container to you. “I just wanted to return this.” 

Crestfallen, tears welled up in the corners of your eyes. “An empty bowl?” 

Now, an empty bowl wouldn’t have been so bad if he had not gotten your hopes up about a dog at first. But since that hope was maliciously torn from you, now you were devastated. 

At the first sign of wet droplets on your face, Nagi looked slightly alarmed. “Oh. Are you crying?”

“No!” you insisted with a sniffle. “I’m just sad you didn’t bring me a dog.”

Hesitantly, he looked back at your front door and asked, “Do you really want me to run and get one? I can. I think most places are closed at night, though.” 

You shake your head, giggling away your tears. “You can’t just get me a dog, silly. The landlord doesn’t even allow them. Stupid landlords.”

Nagi hummed in agreement. 

Wiping the wetness off your face, you took the container from Nagi’s hands and placed it on your kitchen counter. 

“Is there really no dog hiding in here?” you wondered aloud, clinging onto the tiny sliver of hope as you peered into the glass bowl. 

“Not this time,” said Nagi, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “Maybe another day.”

You sighed dramatically, nodding with a pout. 

“I really liked it, by the way,” Nagi commented. “The soup.”

“You did?” you asked, beaming at the compliment. “Well, of course, you did! I put my heart and soul into that!”

“You took the bones out of the fish, so it was easy to eat. Would’ve been even better with rice.” 

“Did you not make rice to eat with it?”

Nagi shook his head. “I don’t have a rice cooker.”

Your ears rang and the world stopped spinning. “No rice cooker?! How are you alive?”

He shrugged. “The jellies.”

“Is that all you eat?” you cried, eyeing him quite pitifully. Food not only nourished your body, but your soul! How could he survive off the same bland things for all his life?

“Mostly. But sometimes my friend brings me food.”

“You’re crazy for that,” you said, still in a state of shock. “You can’t live that way, Nagi! How can you expect to live life happily without delicious food?” 

“But it’s too much work.”

You frowned, unable to follow his thought process. Cooking was tedious, but he could always order food. Why have a life full of squeezable jelly? “I don’t get it. But whatever. Did you like my cooking?”

He nodded. 

“You liked it more than your jellies?”

He nodded once more.

“Okay, good! Then can I continue to give you my extra food?” you asked. “It might not be amazing, since I’m still new at this, but maybe you’d enjoy some variety in your life…”

Nagi glanced around the room, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

Cheering, you began to think of your next meal. “How about I try to make curry? Or fried chicken? Ooh! How about some braised tofu?”

You almost drooled at the thought of all your potential future meals. Hopefully, they would taste as good as you were imagining. 

“All of it sounds good,” he said in approval. “I haven’t had homemade curry in ages…”

“I’ll try making curry first, then!” you promised, wanting to remind him of the joy of a home cooked meal. 

Nagi lifted his hand to give you a lazy thumbs up. 

“And in return, you get me a puppy,” you chirped with a smug grin. 

He blinked, unamused. 

“Okay, fine. Not a puppy then,” you pouted. “How about… In return, you take me out on a date!”

As soon as the words left your mouth, the buzzing in your head cleared and the fog began to lift. Before you could take back what you impulsively blurted out, Nagi let out a small chuckle. The sound was deep yet soft. It surprised you. In a good way. 

He didn’t seem like one to show much of his emotions, so the fact that you heard this come out of him made you think that perhaps, your impending embarrassment was worth it.  

“Ask me again when you’re not drunk.” Nagi ruffled the top of your head before heading out the door for the night. “Then, yeah, probably.”

──── ᢉ𐭩 ────

As soon as you woke up today, the events of last night’s conversation with your neighbor rushed in like a flood. And while most of the things you said drunk, you would’ve said sober, there was one tiny thing you couldn’t believe had escaped from your mouth. 

“Take me out on a date!” you had said, much to your chagrin. You’ve only met the man a few times before! How could you say something that forward so soon? 

You wanted to rub your temples and hide under your pillow all day, but you knew better than that. What happened, happened. And you could only move on from here!

After you recovered from your hangover, the first thing you did was make Nagi an “I’m-sorry-I’m-an-idiot” breakfast that consisted of chocolate chip pancakes with a smiley face-shaped whipped cream on top and some eggs. An easy Western breakfast you’ve seen plenty of times before. 

That was how you found yourself in front of Nagi’s door once more with food in hand. This time, it was on a plate.

“Good morning,” he greeted as soon as he opened the door. At this point, he no longer seemed surprised that you were here. 

“Morning,” you greeted bashfully. “Er— I made you breakfast. To say I’m so sorry if I made things weird for you last night! My friends and I drank a little too much and I wasn’t expecting to see anyone after!”

“It wasn’t weird,” he assured, peering at the food you held out to him. Instead of taking the plate, Nagi asked, “Did you eat yet?”

You blinked, slowly shaking your head. “No, not yet. I was going to eat after I dropped this off. Didn’t want your plate getting cold.”

He nodded, closing his door behind him and walking over to your apartment, his hand gently placed on your back to guide your frozen legs forward. 

“Let’s eat this together, then,” he said. “At your place.”

Your brain short-circuited at his words. What the hell was going on? So you impulsively asking him to take you on a date didn’t put him off? Your delusions told you that maybe it’s because he was interested as well…

Snapping yourself out of the thoughts, you nod fervently. “Oh, okay. Yeah, sure! You can join me for breakfast.”

“Thanks.”

The two of you settled down around your round dining table after you prepared a plate for yourself and poured out some glasses of water. 

“So, did I say anything embarrassing last night?” you asked, carefully taking a bite of your pancake. 

Nagi shook his head. “I don’t think so. Unless you count crying over not getting a puppy embarrassing.”

Yes. That was exactly what you counted as embarrassing. 

“Nah, that’s just another day in the life,” you said simply. 

“Then nope, nothing.”

“Thank goodness for that.” 

A few beats of silence passed as you and Nagi enjoyed your breakfast. 

“So… If you don’t like to cook, what are the things you enjoy doing?” you asked after taking a large sip of water. 

Nagi put his fork down as he considered your question. “Ah, I like gaming. And reading webcomics. And I guess I like soccer, too.”

Games and webcomics? A man of your own heart, you internally swooned. 

“Ooh, those all sound fun!” you said excitedly, glad you were able to find something in common with him. “What games do you play? I like gachas and shooter games, mainly.”

“I play mainly gachas, too. Especially the ones with auto battles.”

You laughed at that. Somehow, Nagi liking auto battle mechanics fully checked out. “Okay, those ones are my least favorite, I have to admit. I like the ones with interactive combat more! It’s like you’re in the game.”

“That’s true. I haven’t thought of it that way.”

You nodded proudly. “And you like soccer, too?”

“Yes.”

“Do you play in, like, soccer matches or something?” you asked, eyeing his stature. While Nagi looked tall and lean, you could see the defined muscles on his arms. You weren’t too surprised that he was active. 

He nodded but didn’t elaborate. “Yeah. Do you want to watch one?”

“Of course!” you gushed at the invitation. You weren't too athletic yourself, but you enjoyed watching a good sports game. The feeling of anticipation and anxiety and secondhand adrenaline gave you a rush. “I would love that!” 

“I can get you in,” he promised.

“Then after, take me on a date?” you wondered, half-teasing, half-serious. It would depend on his response. 

Nagi pursed his lips slightly as if in deep thought. “I’d have to shower and change first, but yes. Sure. We can go on a date after that. I think that would be…fun.”

You grinned. “I hope so. I have fun whenever I’m talking to you, so I know I’ll enjoy the date.”

He returned your smile before finishing his last bite of chocolate chip pancakes. “I like talking to you too. And eating the food you cook. I guess being with you is fun.”

“I think so too,” you said earnestly, stomach flipping at his words. “If the date goes well, maybe we can keep enjoying life together.”

“I think I’d like that.” 

[wolfiesmoon]

The world in my hands

Riddle, Leona, Idia, Malleus x fem!reader (seperately)

hello twst community did u miss me😍

this is a request hehe!! the prompt i was given is yuu says "i may not be able to use magic but i can hold the entire world in my hands" and then holding the guy's face

i had no clue how to write lead-ups to this type of fic so they will be either very minimal or not there at all😭

i feel like my writing is SOOO rusty omg😥

✧･ﾟ: Leona Kingscholar

"Get out." Leona didn't look all that happy to find you laying next to him in his bed. You decided that as his girlfriend, you now have the right to sneak into Savanaclaw at night and then sneak into his bed, too. With the great hearing all the beastmen in his dorm have, you wonder how no one caught you. Or maybe they just don't wanna mess with you.

Regardless, you're not one to disrespect your partner's wishes, so you get up and walk around the bed to be right by his face, just off the bed this time. You thought of doing that randomly last night because you couldn't fall asleep. Both the sneaking into Savanaclaw and the thing you're about to do.

He seemed a bit flabbergasted while looking at you from his bed and honestly, you can't really blame him. You would say you'd feel the same way if Leona appeared in your bed in the morning but knowing his habit of falling asleep on you, you wouldn't even count it out.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked in an accusatory tone.

You cleared your throat dramatically before placing your hands on both of his cheeks, making his face scrunch up in half surprise half annoyance. It's a funny expression on him.

"You know, I may not be able to use magic, but I can do something even better." you didn't even let him respond, quickly adding on "Because I can hold the entire world in my hands."

Leona's wittier than he seems at first glance and you can tell he understood what you meant instantly by his facial expression. But all he does is grunt and gently remove your hands from his face, then fall back on the bed.

After a few seconds of silence, he asks "Are you gonna join me or not?" while tapping the side of his bed a few times.

"Oh, but I thought you didn't want me in your bed?" you placed your hands on your hips, replying with the most sass you could muster. You're not sure what kind of reaction you expected from Leona, but it kind of seems on par with him. He's not one to get flustered by cheesy flirting, you suppose. But letting you on his territory, on the other hand...

"...Just get in here before I change my mind." he grumbled and you joined him without another word. As soon as you did, two strong arms wrapped themselves around you.

You also felt something touch your forehead. A kiss?!

"Leona, did you-"

"Shut up before I kick you out." and he just squeezed you tighter. Hm, maybe he enjoyed it after all.

✧･ﾟ: Riddle Rosehearts

"You know, I may not be able to use magic, but I can hold the entire world in my hands." you smiled at Riddle knowingly before gently grabbing a hold of his face. You invited him over today, but were struck with the idea to pull this on him randomly. You like him best when he's blushing, after all.

He seemed a bit lost, if anything. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, looking at your lovestruck grin with confusion.

He's happy that you can still be happy despite your lack of magical abilities. But why are you randomly telling him about this now? While holding his face? There's no need to do that since he can pay attention to you perfectly fine.

Is that a thing lovers do?

"That's great to hear." He saw the way your face dropped when he replied like that and felt even more stumped than before. That wasn't the correct response, it seems.

"Could you explain what you meant?" He started after a short silence. Your hands are still warming his cheeks and he doesn't want it to end. It's a nice feeling.

"You know... I can hold the world in my hands because, uhh, you're my world..." you realise just now how awkward it is explaining flirty jokes. Well, you suppose it isn't exactly a joke. You're being completely serious.

"Oh." He seemed to finally realise what you meant, because his entire face went scarlet red.

"That is..." he seemed at a loss for words. He never thought a girl could affect him the way you do, but life is full of surprises.

"Hehehe, I prefer you when you're all red from being flustered, not from being angry." you gently kiss his nose, which only elevates the amount of red on his face. His eyebrows furrowed slightly at your teasing, but could he really get mad at you when he's getting kisses?

"I never realised you thought so highly of me." you felt that his face was getting warmer through your palms. And you wouldn't want it any other way.

✧･ﾟ: Idia Shroud

"Would you turn away from that game for just one second?" you chided, hoping your boyfriend would finally listen to your pleas. He groaned in response, not intent on listening to you anytime soon.

Okay, seems you have to do this the hard way. You didn't want it to come to this, but there's no other choice. It's the conscequence of having a gamer boyfriend, after all.

You walked up behind him, swiftly turning him around on his spinny chair. He gasped in surprise and then his expression quickly shifted to one of annoyance. "Why are you so insi-EEK!"

Before he could even finish his complaint, you grabbed his cheeks. A little more roughly than you intended, looking back on it.

"You wanna know something?" you asked it like he had an option to say no, but the determined expression on your face made Idia think you're not giving him much of a choice. "U-Uhm, yes?"

"I may not have the ability to use magic, but, I can hold the entire world in my hands." you smiled awfully innocently compared to how determined you looked just seconds before. He seemed a bit lost, so you added on "I'm doing it right now, actually."

The reaction was instantaneous. It's like a chemical reaction occured because the entirety of Idia's face immediately turned red. The ends of his flaming hair began to burn in a pink color as well. Honestly, you think he might be at his cutest when he looks that way.

"Y-You.. That's dangerous!" he yells overly dramatically, swatting your hands off of his face. "I know, it's a dangerous skill to have. Does critical damage to Idia Shroud, apparently." you shrug.

"H-How do you... how do you expect me to defend myself against that?!" he shoved his face in his hands out of embarrasment.

"That's the thing, I don't. The point is to leave you all defensless and flustered." you smile mischeviously, even though you know he can't see it.

"I knew it was a bad idea to get a girlfriend... my poor heart..." he mumbled under his breath, almost unintelligible.

"What was that?"

"UM- Nothing!" you're kind of worried he might pass out from all the blood travelling to his face.

✧･ﾟ: Malleus Draconia

To be honest, you knew that you had to do as soon as you saw that video pop up on your Magicam feed. Considering your boyfriend's frequent surprise visits, you'd assume it wouldn't be hard to find him and catch him off guard with something like that.

And you definitely know he hasn't seen it before, considering his... lackluster grasp of technology.

"Greetings." you almost fall out of bed, quickly turning off your phone to hide the evidence. Does he have to pop up at the most random times? You suppose you wouldn't have it any other way, though.

"Oh, hello there, Malleus." you quickly got up from bed and walked up to him. He wrapped an arm around you like it was second nature.

"I have something to tell you." you told him in a sweet, playful tone and he immediately seemed intrigued. He's excited when you're excited, after all. "Go on. I will always listen to you."

"I may not be able to use magic..." your arms slipped up towards his face... "But I can hold the entire world in my hands."

"Oh..." he thought about what you just told him for a few seconds before finally realising what you meant. Flirts with Malleus are hit-or-miss usually, sometimes he gets it, sometimes he doesn't, but you're glad he realised it this time. "Oh, I see what you mean, dear." his silly lovesick smirk was now mirroring yours.

"That makes me tremendously happy." he squeezed you in his hold. "I feel the same way. You too are my world." he kissed your cheek happily. You noticed his cheeks were a pretty pink color, one of the loveliest sights you can possibly witness in this world. He even gave you a peck on the lips for good measure.

You know, your original goal was to fluster him, but somehow, you get the feeling that you're the one getting flustered right now.