#it would say more about you than it does about me

[plutotheplum]

Red Tape

mma fighter!sylus x manager!reader

summary: the man you're in charge of is somewhat of a handful (...and a mouthful).

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, modern au, smut, vaginal fingering, kissing, dirty talk, oral sex - m! and f!receiving, praise kink, p in v, masturbation, size difference, size kink, mild choking

wc: 8.8k

a/n: pulled his grasslands card and nghhh he's so fine and big. lowkey think i wrote too much. hope you guys like it! <3

also on ao3!

The sounds of limbs colliding and loud grunts of exertion fill the air as you step inside the training gym.

You let your eyes scan the expanse of it, eyes narrowing to try and find the white-haired man you’re in charge of. You eventually spot him, red tape wrapped around his hands as he works with his trainer, throwing punches of varying strength against the boxing pads.

Heels clacking against the floor, you approach Sylus, standing off to the side as you watch him train. His moves are calculated and sharp, never allowing for any stray hits to pass through. It’s how Sylus has managed to stay at the top of the rankings for the past few years. He had risen quickly, his strength and technique acknowledged by those around him, supporters and rivals alike. 

You’d been his manager for a total of two years. It’d been outlined in a fortunate job posting that you’d deemed interesting enough to apply for. Back then you had wondered whether he’d be difficult, but Sylus was annoying at most and actually acknowledged your judgement. 

“How am I looking?” Sylus calls out to you, stepping away from his trainer and grabbing a bottle of cold water to press against his neck.

“Good,” you reply, watching as he steps out from under the ropes of the boxing ring, his tall frame approaching yours.

“Just good?” he asks, peering down at you.

You roll your eyes, reaching for his hand to undo the tape that covers his fingers. “Fine. Better than good. We both know you’re at the top of your form these days.”

Sylus hums in agreement, his fingers flexing once you unwrap the tape. You do the same for his other hand, gathering the discarded tape and rolling it up into a ball. He drinks down the bottle of cold water, throat bobbing as he does so.

“Who am I up against tonight?” Sylus asks, slumping down into a nearby chair.

His muscles are taut from training, a sheen of sweat covering his body. You can’t look away when he pulls his tank top over his head, the muscles of his abdomen flexing as he reaches for a towel to sling around the back of his neck and wipe his face dry.

“First few matches should be fine,” you tell him, drawing your eyes away from his sculpted body to look down at your phone, “final match might be a little hard. Xavier.”

Sylus sighs, running his hand through his damp hair as he glances at you. “He’s fast.” 

“Not as fast as you,” you say, shaking your head.

He grins, leaning towards you. “It’s sweet my manager has such faith in me,” he drawls.

You shoot him an unimpressed look, pushing his head back when he gets a little too close for comfort, his crimson eyes boring into yours intently. 

“I’m more concerned about my paycheck.”

“I make you twice as much money than you would at a shitty desk job,” Sylus replies, thighs  spreading as he gets comfortable.

“Try making it triple,” you grin back at him, tossing him another bottle of water as you stand up. 

Sylus catches it effortlessly, pressing it against his forehead this time. He slouches a little more and you dig through his bag beside you, handing him a protein bar. You let your gaze drift as he rests, watching as the other men train in the gym. 

Some throw punches, others duck to avoid getting hit. You were well aware of the fact that Sylus had his own personal boxing ring, and yet he preferred to train here, in front of other men. An intimidation tactic or simply personal preference, you didn’t know. All in all, you were grateful that Sylus’ performance was consistent. You hardly had to involve yourself, a new rush of sponsorships flooding your email in the days following his matches. 

“Remember to rest,” you say to him when he stands up and rolls his shoulders, his muscles rippling.

“I’m a professional,” Sylus replies dryly, his hand landing on your head heavily as he grants you a few pats.

You scoff, swatting his hand away, trying to smooth down the strands of your hair. The view of his bare, broad back is appreciated however, your greedy eyes following the boxer as he slips past the ropes of the boxing ring again. It doesn't exactly fall under the job description to ogle the man you’re in charge of, but Sylus is unfairly handsome, and innocent glances never hurt anyone.

-

The thrum of the arena is electrifying. 

You can feel the beat of the music match the pulse of your heart as you stand outside Sylus' locker room, checking your phone every now and then. The door swings open after a few moments and you step inside, finding Sylus sitting on the steel bench. 

His legs bounce, his hands clasped together, head hanging low. All boxers had their own ritual, and you weren’t about to interrupt his. Instead, you strike up a quiet conversation with his trainer, waiting for Sylus to finish up.

Sylus waves you over after a few moments and you’re already undoing the red tape from its roll, winding it around his fingers so that it sticks properly. He flexes his fingers experimentally, giving you a nod and you move to his other hand, fingers brushing against his.

“Take it easy out there,” you murmur, lifting his hand to smooth out the creases in the tape.

“I always take it easy,” Sylus says, sending you a devilish grin.

It’s not exactly true. Sylus likes to show off, you think he might like the thrill of it. Carefully placed embellished hits do make for great television after all. 

“Besides,” he continues, his hands wrapping around the back of your thighs to pull you between his legs, “I have my lucky charm with me.”

You let out an awkward laugh, squirming out of his grasp although he seems reluctant to let go. His trainer seems to catch the little interaction between you, and you clear your throat, taking another step back.

“Manager. I’m your manager .”

“You can be both,” he retorts, standing up.

Sylus bounces on the balls of his feet for a few moments, his shoulders rolling and head tilting to get rid of any cricks in his neck. He pulls the hood of his jacket over his head, snowy hair disappearing, his face darkening. An announcement blares through the locker room and he’s moving out, with you and the rest of his team trailing after him.

You’ve lost count of how many matches of his you’ve attended, but somehow the nerves don’t ease, the knot of uncertainty tightening in your stomach. He’s more than capable of handling the blows hurled at him but there’s a part of you that can’t help but worry about an opponent playing dirty and landing a blow that he can’t recover from.

He excels through the first stages as expected. Most of his opponents for the first few rounds are amateurs at most, making clumsy mistakes that end up giving Sylus an opening to finish them off. 

Xavier is more of a challenge. He’s quick on his feet, easily sidestepping and making short, sharp jabs that have Sylus keeping his distance. You wince when Xavier lands a blow to Sylus’ face, hard enough to make his lip split. Blood runs down his chin, but Sylus is catching the rivulets of blood with his tongue and finding your eyes through the sea of faces, his grin cocky albeit bloody. 

You roll your eyes, shaking your head. His eyes glint at the challenge, your warning to “take it easy” all but forgotten as he lands a heavy punch to Xavier’s abdomen. Xavier stumbles back, doubling over in pain but he straightens out just as quickly.

A few more punches are thrown, but Sylus wins the first round, thankfully. He’s waving you over during the rest period, crouching down. 

You lean forward, letting him whisper into your ear, the sheer loudness of the crowd making it difficult to hear him.

“Need you to fix my tape.”

You nod, pulling off his boxing gloves and undoing the tape around his fingers to wrap it a bit tighter.

“Better?” you ask, peering up at him.

Sylus nods, and you motion for him to bend his head a little more. You press a damp towelette against his split lip. He hisses at the feeling, jaw clenching.

“He’s weak on his left-side,” you murmur, wiping away the blood that’s dripped down his chin.

“You’re not one to give me tips,” he says.

“Seems like you need it,” you whisper, “you’re performing poorly, Sylus.” 

That seems to set him off a little, his brows furrowing for a moment before he schools his features back into something more neutral. He reaches out for you, his large hand cupping your cheek. Your eyes widen, trying to take a step back but it’s too late, your flushed face is being broadcast on the large screens.

The crowd seems just as surprised as you are, the raucous chatter quietening for a moment as they watch. 

His lips brush over your ear as he speaks, his breath warm and heavy. “I’ll make you triple.”

Sylus lets go of you, and you shoot a wane smile to the camera that’s been trained on you both. It’s convincing enough for the crowd to lose attention as the second round starts.

As the match drags on, it becomes evident as to what Sylus is doing. He’s toying with his opponent, letting Xavier think he has the upper hand when really it’s Sylus that’s controlling the pace. Sylus lets Xavier get one last hit in before he’s retaliating, hard and fast, his opponent’s body crumpling to the floor. When Xavier fails to rise, cheers erupt, Sylus’ name being chanted throughout the arena, crazed fans jumping up and down as the referee holds his arm up.

There’s sweat dripping from Sylus’ brow when you find him back in the locker room. The reporters had loved his post-fight interview, his smug grin supersized on the large screens in the arena. A medic kneels beside him, examining his body carefully to eliminate the possibility of any injuries worsening.

“Why don’t you ever listen to me?” you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest.

Sylus smiles, his head tipped back, resting against the tiled wall. “I won, didn’t I?”

Frustration pricks at your skin and your eyes narrow, feeling tempted to slap the stupid smile right off of his face.

“Don’t be like that,” Sylus coos, brushing off the medic attending to him without a second glance and reaching for you. “You wanted triple, I made you triple.”

“I- I wasn’t being serious !” you hiss, trying to tug your wrist free.

Sylus’ grip only tightens, tugging you down so that your face nears his. You swallow harshly, his scarlet eyes somehow brighter under the light.

“You said I was performing poorly,” he murmurs, “I did what you wanted.” His fingers unfurl, stroking the inside of your wrist. The hint of a smirk plays on the side of his mouth when he sees how rigid you’ve become. “Besides,” his voice lowers a bit more so as to stop others from hearing, “you liked it when I smiled at you.”

His fingers smooth over your skin a few more times, dragging down to spread across the expanse of your palm. Sylus can spot the haze that glosses over your eyes, the way you extend your arm towards him slightly, chasing more of his touch. 

You think you could’ve stayed like that forever if not for his physical therapist that’s bundled inside the locker room, pushing you aside. His fingers fall away from yours and you snatch your hand back, tucking it behind your back. Sylus looks like he wants to say something, but you’re turning on your heel to escape the oppressive atmosphere, feeling as though you’ve been smothered. 

The cool night air is welcome when you burst through the doors of the arena, chest rising as you take in a deep lungful to calm the storm of emotions swirling in your mind. It’s a strictly professional relationship, you remind yourself, muttering under your breath and nodding along to your rampant thoughts to soothe yourself.

“Professional,” you whisper, staring at your hand as though it were a traitor, “I am a professional .”

Your fingers tingle in response, the phantom sensation of his fingers spreading out across your wrist. A sharp scoff leaves you, wiping your hand against your skirt. Unfortunately, your mind is all over the place and remembering Sylus’ bloody grin is enough to send a rush of heat through your body. 

The sound of someone’s shoes shuffling in the distance has your ears perking up, but you don’t pay it any mind, too frustrated with yourself. Sylus is irritating, but it doesn’t stop your heart from racing whenever you think about him. You’d never meant for the stupid, little crush to flourish into something bigger, but ever since he’d asked you to stick around, things had gotten complicated.

Truth is, Sylus hadn’t lost a single match ever since you’d begun to wrap his hands for him. It’s why he has you wrap them now, every match without fail. You didn’t exactly believe in this superstition of his, but he was adamant, refusing to fight unless it was you that was winding the red tape around his fingers. 

The scuffling noise grows louder and your brows furrow, trying to spot where it’s coming from.

“Ya lookin’ really pretty, miss,” a raspy voice sounds, an unfamiliar man stepping out of the dark.

The stench of tobacco is strong and you’re taking a step back, sending him an uneasy smile. He smiles back, yellowed teeth becoming visible, and you fight a grimace, trying to stop your lip from curling up in disgust. You spy the automatic doors from the corner of your eye, but the man reaches for you before you can make it to safety, holding onto you tight.

“Let me go!” you say, sounding panicked.

He only grunts, trying to pull you towards him. You pull back, gritting your teeth when his fingers dig into you.

“Ease up, pretty,” the man leers.

If anything, this whole situation was Sylus’ fault. You’re angry at yourself, at Sylus, and now at this disgusting man who was trying to take advantage of you.

“You’re pathetic,” your voice is a harsh hiss, fear giving way to resentment. 

“Now, that is not very nice,” he replies, “why don’t you smile for me? A real one this time.”

Your eye twitches at the sheer audacity of his words, teeth gritting together. You’ve never punched anyone before, but tonight might be a good time to start. 

“Fuck you.” 

Before your fist can land, there’s a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back gently. You don’t have to look to know who it is. Sylus’ arm shoots out instead, punching the man in the face. He staggers back, tripping over his own feet and landing on the floor with a heap. Blood wets his hand and he groans, clutching his nose. You hope it’s broken. 

“You okay?” Sylus murmurs, stepping in front of you and blocking the man from sight.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, frowning. “I was handling it.”

“I’m sure you were,” he says lightly, gaze dipping over you.

The man makes a noise of disgruntlement, a security guard hauling the man up onto his feet. You try to poke your head out from Sylus’ side, but he doesn’t let you, holding your wrist to distract you. He smooths his fingers over where the man had been gripping you, his touch firm and insistent, soothing the reddened imprints on your skin.

“Let me take you home,” Sylus murmurs, his fingers brushing against yours gently.

“I can take care of myself,” you retort.

Sylus doesn’t let you escape this time, tucking your hair behind your ear before he’s guiding you towards his bike. 

“Wait! Were you even cleared?”

“I’m not injured,” Sylus says, shoving a helmet down over your head. 

“But- but my car!” you protest.

“I’ll have Luke and Kieran take care of it.”

The mention of the twins makes it more likely for something to go wrong. There’s a good chance they’ll end up totalling your car, or losing your belongings. You don’t even know why Sylus took them on, but they had succeeded in becoming unofficial trainees under Sylus’ guidance. 

You shake your head stubbornly, pushing the helmet up. Sylus doesn’t let you, his hand shoving it back down before he’s picking you up and setting you down on his bike.

“I’m your manager!” you grouse in a last ditch effort.

“I’m well aware,” Sylus replies, swinging his leg over his bike.

You squeal when he takes off, arms wrapping around his middle tightly, eyes squeezing shut as the wind whips around you. He knows where your apartment is, having visited a few times when you’d asked him to stop by to sign some pressing paperwork.

His bike slows to a soft purr as it stops by the curb outside your apartment complex. His bike is annoyingly difficult to dismount and you grunt, struggling. You manage to land, although on shaky feet, your knees buckling for a moment. Sylus laughs, catching you by the waist before you hit the floor. The heat of his body has your breath hitching, your hands resting on his broad shoulders for stability.

“You’re too clumsy,” he murmurs, squeezing your sides gently, “take it easy.”

“Really?” you roll your eyes when he uses your own words against you.

“Really.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again, voice softening.

All you can do is nod, heart fluttering at the gentle look in his eyes. He stares at you for a moment longer, trying to determine whether you’re lying. When you don’t say anything, he pulls you closer, his hands rubbing up and down your waist soothingly.

“I didn’t mean it,” you mumble out, feeling shy, “you- you were great tonight.”

“Yeah?”

You hum in response, giving him another nod. Sylus’ hands drift lower, past the line of professionalism. He stares down at you, his head tilting. Your lungs seem to have lost their ability to function at full capacity, quick, uneven breaths leaving you as your hands tighten into his jacket. 

“What are you doing?” you whisper, voice barely audible when the tip of his nose brushes yours.

“Determining your wellbeing,” Sylus says smoothly. 

“I’m fine, seriously.”

“Your cheeks are flushed and your chest is heaving” he whispers. Sylus’ hand has begun to wander, tracing down your neck, pushing apart the collar of your blouse to trail lower, his eyes drinking in your cleavage hungrily. He lets out a low laugh when you twitch in his arms. “You seem... unwell .”

“I’m fine !” you push away from his chest, patting your hot cheeks to try and cool them.

He raises his brows silently, but follows you into your apartment complex all the same, despite your protests. Something about ensuring your safety. Thankfully, he keeps his distance when he steps into the elevator with you, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. 

The air is tense and you sneak a glance up at him to find him staring back at you. Your gaze snaps back, embarrassment rushing through your body, wishing the floor would just do you a favor and swallow you up.

Sylus doesn’t come in when you open the door, watching as you kick off your heels and rub at your sore ankles. He just stares , leaning against the doorframe. 

“Thank you,” you say, breaking through the awkwardness of the air, “for bringing me home and- and taking care of that guy, but I definitely had it handled.”

He gives you a lazy smile, his head dropping to rest against the doorframe as well. 

“You're welcome.”

“Okay, well, you- you can go now,” you say, gesturing with your hands and pushing at his chest to get him to leave.

Sylus doesn’t budge, his lips pursing as he stares down at you. The height difference is all the more noticeable since you’ve taken off your heels. His hand reaches out, landing on your waist.

“Come see me.”

“ What ?”

“Come see me,” Sylus repeats, “I’ll teach you how to punch.”

“I- I don’t need to learn how to punch,” you sputter, shaking your head vehemently. 

“If you had punched that man, you would’ve broken your thumb,” he murmurs, his hand sliding up your neck to cup your cheek. “You need me.”

You can’t help your eyes from fluttering shut, leaning into the warmth of his palm. Sylus lets you, his thumb running over your cheek gently. You find that he’s gotten closer when you open your eyes, his lips parted. Rising up on the tips of your toes, you let your nose nudge his, wanting him to kiss you, consequences be damned.

Sylus smiles, a soft laugh leaving him when he pulls back, drawing up to his full height. “You’re my manager.”

You’re too stunned to reply, unable to get any words out as you watch him walk back towards the elevator. He gives a wave of his fingers, disappearing from sight. You stare at the empty hallway for a moment, letting out a frustrated scoff and scrubbing your hand over your face. 

Exhaustion weighs your body down and you’re crawling into bed after showering, tugging the blankets up over yourself. The incessant ache between your thighs keeps you from falling asleep and you’re acutely aware of how empty you feel.

It’s why your hand is creeping down into your sleep shorts, a soft noise spilling into the quiet air when you find you’re already wet. Sylus’ face flashes through your mind, and instead of pushing it away, you focus on it. You rub your clit, slowly at first, savoring the sensation as you imagine his lazy smile.

The image shifts however, and now you’re imagining him between your thighs, your hand in his white hair as he licks over your cunt. It has your back arching, fingers rubbing against your clit faster as you moan.

“Fuck,” you whimper, stroking over your clit gently, the sensation making your thighs twitch.

Your imagination has begun to run rampant, imagining his fingers digging into your hips as he fucks into you, his mouth on your body, on your lips, against your ear whispering filth. You stuff two fingers into your pussy, fucking them in and out desperately. You have no doubt Sylus’ fingers would reach deeper. 

You need him, you need him desperately . You think about him shoving your face into the pillows, palming your ass and sinking his cock into you. You think about his body flush against yours, his hands stroking your hair as he humps his hips into you. He’s just so big , his weight on top of yours would most likely make you lose your mind. Slick pours out of your cunt rapidly, whimpers filling in the air with how sensitive you’ve become.

“Sylus!” you moan his name as you cum, body shuddering.

Panting, you stare up at the ceiling, a frustrated whine slipping out of you when you realize how pathetically you’re acting. The haze of your orgasm doesn’t let your mind linger on the thought for any longer, your eyes drooping shut as you fall asleep.

-

You’re too weak to resist.

It’s how you’ve ended up here, inside his personal boxing ring, with him adjusting the tape on your hands. He’d suggested boxing gloves, but they’d kept slipping off with how big they were.

Your body stiffens when he steps up behind you. Sylus has you feeling like a fool as you hold your arms up, bent at the elbows, hands curled into fists. You meet his gaze through the mirror and he simply smirks, his chest pressing against your back as he fixes your form.

“Thumbs outside,” he murmurs, prying your fist open to tug your thumb free, “you’ll break them otherwise.”

“I really don’t think this is necessary,” you mutter, tensing when his fingers trail down your side.

“Self-defense is always necessary,” he replies.

You bite back a whine when his large hand curls around your hip, his palm pushing gently as he gets you to shift your stance.

“When you throw a punch, you have to pivot,” Sylus says, his other hand dropping to the other side of your hips. “Keep your shoulders relaxed, if you’re too tense the hit won’t be as powerful.”

You can’t exactly relax when he’s hovering behind you. Sylus squeezes your hips and you don't know whether he’s actually trying to teach you or whether he’s simply being a horrible man and setting off your poor touch-starved body. 

“Wrist straight,” he continues, stepping away. “Put your body weight into it, and remember to pivot, okay?”

A simple nod is all that leaves you and he stands in front of you, holding his hands up. You can’t help but feel insulted.

“At least put the boxing pads on,” you mutter, feeling miffed.

“Hit me,” Sylus orders instead.

You lean forward, hips twisting as you put as much of your body weight into the punch as you can, shoulder rippling forward as you punch his hand.

“What are you trying to hurt, a fly?” he drawls, shooting you an unimpressed look. “Again.”

“I could have your reputation ruined,” you hiss back, adjusting your position. You let your hips pivot again, cheeks flushed with irritation as your arm shoots forward, punching his hand.

“Better.”

A satisfied huff sounds and you cross your arms over your chest triumphantly. It’s the little things in life, you think. Sylus rolls his eyes, his finger nudging at your forehead.

“Let’s just hope you don’t run into any more unsavory characters.”

“There’s plenty of other ways to defend myself,” you retort. “Pepper spray, tasers, and well, men always tend to have a weakness.” You point to the spot between his thighs.

Sylus looks down to where you’re gesturing, a laugh breaking out of him when he realizes what you’re implying. 

“Not always,” he says and your eyes widen when he suddenly approaches you. Sylus places his hand over your mouth, spinning you around so that he’s practically draped over your back. “Get out of this.”

It’s hard to move when he has you pinned against him like this, but you shift your arm, driving your elbow back into his side hard . Sylus grunts, his grip loosening on you just for a moment. It’s the fraction of a second that you need, leg lifting as you stomp his foot harshly. He lets out a pained groan, and your leg kicks out again, landing a blow to his knee. 

Sylus buckles onto the mat of the boxing ring and part of you can’t believe you’ve managed to bring him down. You hover over him, almost feeling bad for the man as he clutches his knee.

A sigh of a feigned dramatics leaves you, a satisfied expression creeping up onto your face. “You know, you did tell me to get out- ah! ” You shriek when he grabs your arm, tugging you down. Your legs give way and you land on the mat in a heap, letting out a pained noise.

“Celebrated too early,” he murmurs, “once your attacker is down, you run .”

You grunt in annoyance, ignoring his hand when he offers it as he stands up. Sylus waits for a few moments longer, letting out a soft laugh before he hauls you up by your elbow, setting you on your feet.

He lowers his head to check if there’s any damage to your face, invading your personal space. Your head leans back as his face moves closer until you can feel the heat of his breath fanning across your skin. 

“Stop it,” you mutter, taking a step back.

You’re too clumsy for your own good however, losing your footing at the edge of the boxing ring. A squeak escapes you, arms flailing for a bit as you feel yourself beginning to slip, the ropes sliding down your back. Sylus reaches for you before you can fall, tugging you towards him. 

“Careful,” he chastises. 

Sylus’ hand smooths over your hair, brushing it away from your face. Your breath hitches when he cups your cheeks, tilting your head up.

“Stop- stop doing that,” you whisper, “stop touching me.”

“I don’t want to,” Sylus murmurs, his arm wrapping around your waist, “stop fighting me.”

You send him a half-hearted glare and he smirks, drawing you closer until you’re flush against his body.

“You wanted it last night,” he continues, mouth hovering above yours, “give in.”

His stare is blistering and it’s almost as though Sylus can see through you, though you’re not sure whether you’re ready for that yet. Your head shakes stubbornly and he lets go of you, letting out a sigh.

You watch as he shrugs off his shirt, his muscles flexing. Unspoken words sit on the tip of your tongue, but he’s leaving the boxing ring. The sound of his fist colliding with the punching bag echoes through the room and you stand there awkwardly, watching as the punching bag rattles under the force of his punches.

“Should I leave?” you call out meekly once you’ve managed to get out of the boxing ring yourself.

“Stay,” Sylus replies, glancing back at you, “we aren’t done.”

His words sound foreboding enough to have you squirming in place. Sylus hits that stupid punching bag countless times, to the point where even your emails aren’t keeping you interested. 

Sweat covers his taut muscles as he approaches you, his hand running through his hair. You find your eyes fixated on his biceps, how broad his shoulders are and how big he is. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs.

“Like what?” you ask breathlessly.

He reaches out, his fingers squishing your cheeks together. “Like you want me to fuck you.”

Well, he’s not exactly wrong . You stare at him for a moment longer, heart racing in your chest. All your previous reasons to not pursue something with him have begun to fail you, your stubbornness being chipped away as he runs his thumb over your lips.

“I do,” you say, voice hoarse, “I do want you to fuck me.”

Sylus grins, his eyes flashing dangerously at your confession. The sweat on his body seeps into your clothes when he pushes you up against the wall, but you don’t care, hands spreading across his firm chest, a soft whine slipping out of you.

“Why the change in mind?” he coos, his thumb brushing over your lips again.

“Do I need a reason?” you whisper, opening your mouth and sucking his thumb into your mouth.

Surprise flits across his face and he lets out a deep laugh, pushing his thumb into your mouth further. Your eyes flutter shut, tongue swirling around his digit, before lapping at the pad of his thumb playfully. He kisses your cheek, trailing hungry kisses down your neck, hand squeezing at your waist roughly.

“Always look so fuckin’ pretty,” he rasps, pulling his thumb free from the confines of your mouth.

His body is warm against yours, his hands groping at your ass, squeezing at the fat appreciatively. You whimper, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, eager for his mouth on yours.

“Wanted to do this at the match,” Sylus murmurs, “on the big screens. Could’ve shown everyone how good my manager is for me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you reply, tilting your head as he kisses along your jaw, “that- ah- that would’ve caused a scandal.”

“The things I want to do to you would cause a bigger scandal,” he says, smiling down at you.

You’re weak for it, the lazy curl of his lips, the low drawl of his voice. You tug him down a little more and press a heated kiss to the corner of his mouth. His eyes bore into yours and he lets out an amused huff, stroking his thumb over the curve of your cheek before finally slotting his lips over yours. 

Sylus works his lips against yours, hand cupping the back of your head to draw you closer to him. He maneuvers you as he pleases, your hands sliding down to rest against his bare chest, rising up on the tips of your toes.

He hisses suddenly, pulling away and you frown, brows furrowing. Sylus touches his still healing split lip, running his tongue over it.

"Sorry," you wince.

"I'm fine," he murmurs, lowering his head, "kiss me, sweetie."

"Oh, I don't think-"

Sylus doesn't let you finish. You’re both stumbling together, bumping into a wall every so often as he kisses you all the way to his bedroom, his hands roving over you. Biting your lip, you push at his chest, smiling when he falls down onto the bed, flat on his back.

Sylus shifts, propping his arm behind his head to watch you. You’ve never felt this adventurous before, but you’re pulling your shirt off slowly, giving him a show. His eyes darken when you take off your bra, taking in your breasts and pebbled nipples. 

“Tease,” he murmurs when you pinch your nipples.

You take your shorts off next, hooking your thumbs into your panties to shimmy them off when he stops you.

“Keep them on,” Sylus says, voice laden with lust. “C’mere, baby.”

You crawl over him and Sylus drags you into another kiss, brushing your hair back. He squeezes at your ass a few times, groaning into your mouth as he feels your tits squished up against his chest.

“Hi,” you whisper, nosing against his cheek.

“Hey,” he says hoarsely, hands caressing your hips.

You can feel how hard he is through his shorts, the straining imprint of it against your skin. Sylus doesn’t let you touch his cock though, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and moving your jaw to guide you into a kiss. 

A soft whimper escapes you when you feel his fingers brush your panties, pressing a little firmer until he’s rubbing your cunt through your panties. Sylus’ kisses grow sloppier, spit leaking from the sides of your mouths until he’s pushing your panties to the side and spreading your folds with his fingers.

“ Fuck ,” you mewl, pulling away from his ravenous mouth to rock your hips back into his fingers.

“So wet, sweetie,” Sylus whispers, tongue darting out to lick over your lower lip, “all for me, hm?”

You nod, hand squeezing at his shoulder. He smiles against your lips and you kiss him, fingers in his hair whilst your other hand wanders over his chest and abdomen. 

Sylus sinks a finger into you, and your suspicions are confirmed, his fingers do reach deeper. He keeps you on the edge, alternating between rubbing at your clit and sinking a finger into you from time to time.

“Sylus,” you whine, pouting, “wanna cum.”

“Knew you’d be this whiny,” Sylus says, rubbing your clit faster, spreading your slick over your cunt.

That catches you off-guard. “You- you thought about me?” you ask breathily.

“All the time,” he groans, “always so fuckin’ good to me. Had to stop myself from getting hard every time you taped my hands.”

You let out a strangled moan at his confession, pressing yourself closer and smashing your lips onto his. He grunts, cupping the back of your neck to kiss you back just as feverishly, bullying another finger into your pussy.

Sylus licks into your mouth and you suck on his tongue, tugging lightly at the strands. He doesn’t let anymore spit drip, licking it up from your chin and pushing it back into your mouth. 

“ Ah- ” you pant, eyes rolling back as he curls his fingers, thrusting them in and out of you.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers, kissing your cheek, “taking my fingers so well.”

His thumb joins in on the onslaught, rubbing over your clit until you’re twitching and letting out ragged gasps. 

Sylus moves you onto your back suddenly, his hands pulling your panties down and pushing your thighs up so that your cunt is on display for him. He groans at the sight, drinking in the glistening folds of your pussy.

Thumbing them apart, he groans again, watching the clench of your aching hole around nothing. 

“Pretty pussy,” Sylus whispers, lowering his head to lick a stripe up your wet, slick pussy, “prettiest fuckin’ pussy ever, sweetie.”

He slips two of his fingers back into your pussy, crimson eyes finding yours as he kisses your clit gently. You smile hazily, running your fingers through his hair and rolling your hips up so he can kiss your clit again.

Sylus’ mouth latches onto your cunt before long, licking through the folds before sucking your clit into his mouth, his tongue swirling over the swollen bud and flicking at it. You gasp, drinking in a shuddering breath of air as he squeezes your thighs and draws back to spit on your cunt.

“Don’t stop,” you whimper, pressing his head back down, “Sylus, don’t stop.”

He huffs out a breath against your pussy, a half-laugh. Sylus doesn’t deny you though, dutifully carrying out his role, eating you out roughly. You squeal when he shoves his tongue into your pussy, fucking it in and out you for a few moments before his mouth is finding your clit again, teeth grazing the sensitive bud.

You twitch, tugging at his hair harder, letting out another squeal when he squeezes your breast roughly, his other hand tweaking at your hard nipple.

“‘m gonna cum,” you say, voice wavering, “ fuck , ‘m gonna cum !”

Sylus looks up at you, and it’s just like you imagined. His red eyes stare at you intently and the eye contact coupled with his tongue stroking over your clit is enough to have you crying out, body writhing as you cum on his tongue.

He hums into your cunt, holding you still as you try to escape his still working mouth, hands smoothing over your sides. Sylus laps over your cunt as you cum, drinking up your slick greedily, pulling away with a few soft pecks to your clit and inner thighs.

“You’re insane,” you mumble, cupping his cheek to kiss him.

Hand slipping lower, you grasp him through his shorts, reveling in the little gasp he lets out. From what you can feel, he’s long and thick , his cock throbbing through the fabric.

He helps you pull his shorts off, and your breath gets stuck in your throat, eyes fixated on his cock. Sylus is thick and big , and you think your poor pussy might split if he tries to stuff it inside of you.

“Not going to fit,” you whisper, voicing your concerns.

Sylus smirks, pulling you by the arm to kiss your cheek. “I’ll make it fit.”

Red, hot arousal runs through you at his words and you lean forward to kiss him again. Sylus runs his fingers through your hair, gathering the strands in a fist as you shift lower and press a kiss to the head of his cock.

Pre-cum drips from the tip and your tongue darts out, lapping it up so as to not waste a single drop. Sylus breathes heavily and you smile up at him, letting your tongue loll out.

“Brat,” he says, grasping the base of his cock before smacking the length of his cock against your tongue a few times, “this what you want?”

You nod, holding your tongue out obediently before licking up the length of it, tracing a throbbing vein. Your tongue swirls around the head, and Sylus moans, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he watches your mouth envelop his cock. 

It’s a struggle to not let your teeth graze the sensitive skin of his cock, but you do your best, sinking your head down more, lips stretched around the fatness of his cock. 

“Tap my thigh if it’s too much,” Sylus whispers, pushing your head gently.

Tears prick at your eyes, feeling his cock go deeper, air being sucked in through your nose as your throat swallows around him. 

“ Shit ,” he hisses, fingers spreading out across your scalp, “just like that, baby.”

You whine, nails digging into his thigh, taking him to the hilt as your nose buries into the white hair at the base of his cock. Sylus moans loudly and you pull off, catching your breath by opting to place little kisses along the length of his cock. 

Licking up the length of his cock again, you suck the head of it into your mouth, head bobbing shallowly as you hollow your cheeks and suck. Sylus mutters out quiet curses, his hand smoothing over your hair when his grip loosens. The weight of his cock on your tongue has your eyes drooping, your half-lidded gaze peering up into his aroused one.

His cock jerks against your lips, more pre-cum falling from his cock in fat globs. You catch them with your tongue, licking over the head of his cock and the leaking tip. His cum is addictive, the taste heady as you rub your lips across his tip, kissing at the flared head of his cock.

His thighs twitch and you giggle drunkenly, kissing his hip.

Sylus reaches down, cupping your cheek to kiss you, uncaring of the taste of his cum in your mouth. You whine, hand wrapping around his fat cock to stroke him, the sinful sounds filling the room as he wraps his hand around your throat to hold you in place while he kisses you. 

“I didn’t take my manager for a whore,” he whispers, breath fanning across your lips.

“‘s your fault,” you reply, kissing him sweetly, wrist rotating as you jerk him off.

Sylus pants into your mouth, his hand tightening around your throat. You whine lowly, eyes fluttering shut when he kisses you messily, his hips bucking into your hand.

“My pretty, little whore,” Sylus says, squeezing your neck before letting go.

“Yours,” you agree, nose nudging against his affectionately.

Sylus kisses you slower this time, his hand cradling the back of your head. It’s tender enough to stop you from stroking his cock, your mind turning to mush with how gently he’s kissing you.

You can hear your lips smacking together, his hand rubbing up and down your back, his other hand drifting to circle your swollen clit again. You whine quietly, nuzzling into his cheek.

“Want me to fill you up, baby?” Sylus murmurs, his hand squeezing at your ass, “make you go brainless on my cock?”

“ Yes !” you sound your want, gripping his shoulder. “Please, please! Want- want your cock so bad, Sylus. I want you!”

He groans at the sheer need in your voice, and you roll over onto your stomach when he lets you, arching your back and pushing your ass up into the air.

“Sweetie,” Sylus rasps, spanking your ass, “ fuck- so fuckin’ good to me.”

You shove your face into a pillow, muffling your squeal when he shoves his face into your cunt, licking over your slick folds. Sylus spanks your ass again before kissing and biting at the reddened skin, leaving the imprints of his teeth on your ass. 

He’s kind enough to shove a pillow under your hips, the thoughtful action making your heart flutter wildly. The press of his cock against your pussy is enough to have you moaning again, hips rocking back to try and get the head of it to slip inside.

“Needy baby,” Sylus whispers, draping himself over your back to kiss your shoulder. “My cock-hungry slut.”

“ Oh- oh fuck ,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he wraps his arm around you neck.

“Good girl,” Sylus whispers, kissing your cheek as his arm tightens.

You coo happily, turning your head to kiss the bulge of his bicep, feeling all rational thought leave your mind as nuzzle against his warm skin. He laughs hoarsely, brushing another kiss to your shoulder, hand kneading the fat of your hip.

“Put it in,” you demand, pussy empty and aching for his cock.

“Be patient,” Sylus admonishes, his fingers stroking over your pussy again. “I need a condom.”

“N-no!” Your protest comes out entirely too quickly and Sylus pauses his movements. You grumble, looking back at him. “I- I mean, I’m on birth control and I’m clean… please, Sylus?”

Sylus raises his brows, peering down at you. “Yeah? You want my cock raw, baby? Wanna feel every inch filling you up?”

You nod, a contented sigh leaving you, your lips drifting across the corded muscle of his forearm as he plays with your cunt, pushing his fingers in one last time before he grasps his cock. You whine, teeth sinking into his bicep as Sylus pushes his cock in slowly.

The sheets of his bed are in disarray with how you’re clawing at them, feeling his thick cock stretch you out. 

“Too- too much!” you hiccup, squirming under him.

“Nearly there,” Sylus whispers, squeezing his arm around your neck tighter, “take my cock, sweetie.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he bottoms out. Sylus is hard and thick , his cock throbbing inside of your aching cunt. You feel wonderfully full, mouth placing sloppy kisses to his bicep as he drops his weight onto you, pinning you against the bed.

“Fuck- hah- cunt’s gripping me so fuckin’ tight,” he groans.

As though in response, your pussy clenches around him and Sylus swears again, his forehead falling against your shoulder. He lets you get adjusted to his size, his hand caressing your waist soothingly before you can feel his hips draw back, thrusting into you slowly.

“You’re so big ,” you slur, eyes fluttering shut.

Sylus grunts, his fat cock bullying into your pussy again when he rolls his hips forward, breathing heavily against your back. You feel perfectly at home, content with the feeling of his arm around his neck, and the weight of his body bearing down on you. Reaching behind you blindly, you manage to find his hand and Sylus laces his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand affectionately. 

“It’s like you were made for me,” Sylus whispers against your cheek, “hm? You were made for me, baby. Perfect little cunt made to take my cock.”

It’s getting harder to suck in air with how tightly his arm is constricting your throat. An uneven gasp leaves your mouth, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure mixes in with the lack of oxygen, his filthy words driving you further and further into a place where you can’t think.

His cock punches into you, his balls smacking against your clit, the sounds echoing through the room, the lewd harshness of skin slapping against skin making your cheeks flush. Sylus lets you breathe more comfortably when you dig your nails into his arm, trailing soft kisses along your cheek.

“Good girl,” he praises, his needy pants filling your ear, “my perfect girl.”

You whine, tilting your head a little more. “W-wanna kiss,” you mumble, “kiss me, Sylus.”

Sylus kisses you gently, his lips moving against yours whilst his hips hump into your ass, driving his cock deep into your clenching pussy. He moves you before long, turning you on to your back, kissing your ankles and dipping his head to land a reverent kiss to your fluttering pussy.

Your legs lock around his waist, staring up at him hazily with your lip bitten as he pushes his cock into you again. Sylus lowers his body onto yours, making sure you’re comfortable before his hips are moving again.

“Feels s’good,” you mumble, turning your head to kiss his cheek.

Sylus hums, brushing a kiss to your brow, his hands smoothing over your hair. His thrusts grow more powerful before long, punching the air out of your lungs, your cries emanating through the room as your nails claw down his back.

“Gonna cum?” he asks, voice a low growl as he feels you clenching around him tightly.

You nod rapidly, hands curling around his shoulders as he presses his face into the crook of your neck, nipping and biting as he grinds his cock in deep . You whimper, back arching, and he grins against your skin, slowing his movements to make sure you can feel his every inch fat, throbbing cock filling you up.

“So pretty,” Sylus whispers, nosing along your cheek, “my pretty slut falling apart on my cock.”

“Sylus!” you cry out his name wantonly. 

Sylus growls, his hand slipping down to hike you thigh up a little higher before he starts pounding into you without abandon. 

“Where do you want it?” he hisses, his red eyes alight as he stares down at you. “My cum,” he clarifies when he sees the confusion in your cock-drunk gaze, “where do you want it?”

“Inside,” you whisper, body trembling with each thrust he delivers to your pussy, “fill me up, Sylus. Wanna feel it.”

“Little vixen,” Sylus snarls, kissing you roughly. You scream and squeal, the noises muffled every so often when he kisses you desperately, the coil of pleasure in your stomach curling tighter and tighter until it snaps.

You moan out his name, thighs twitching violently, nails digging into his back.

“ Hah- �� he rasps, peppering soft kisses along your jaw, “pussy’s gripping me so tight fuck- couldn’t pull out even if I tried.”

Sylus lets out a growly moan, his hand squeezing at your hip as he buries his face into the crook of your neck again. You can feel his cock twitching, his hips slowing to a stuttering stop as he cums, filling you up. Hot, thick cum floods your pussy and you whine softly, the sensation sending little aftershocks through your body. He shallowly fucks his cum into you, hips moving slowly before he slumps on top of you completely.

You push at his chest when his weight becomes too much. “Get off me, you brute.”

“Shut up,” Sylus murmurs, smacking your thigh lightly.

A smile spreads across your face when he lifts his head, his lips slotting over yours in a tender kiss. You make a noise of contentment, wrapping your arms around his neck, pecking his lips a few more times. 

Sylus grunts as he moves off of you, his softening cock slipping out of you. You wince at the feeling of his cum wetting your thighs and Sylus stares down at where his cum leaks out of you, the substance spilling out you thickly.

“Don’t look,” you whine, trying to snap your thighs shut.

Sylus doesn’t let you, grabbing one of your legs to kiss your ankle and then your knee. He presses soothing kisses to your inner thighs, thumbs apart your folds to watch his cum leak out of you again, landing a soft kiss to your clit every so often.

You roll your eyes, pushing at his head when he tries to suck your clit into his mouth, your pussy already oversensitive. He grins, moving towards you again and you cup his cheek, drawing him into a kiss.

-

A few hours later, you’re sitting in his lap.

You’d both showered together, exchanging lazy kisses under the hot water. Sylus had given you one of his shirts and a pair of his briefs and they were entirely too big, but you’d pulled them on anyways, his shirt smelling like him comfortingly. 

“Look,” Sylus says, pointing to the screen playing the recording of his match last night.

His large tv screen depicts your flushed face from when he’d reached for you, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed. Scoffing, you swat his chest and Sylus laughs, letting you hide your heated face in the crook of his neck.

“You look cute,” he murmurs, his hand rubbing and down your back. “Besides, how are you going to handle it when I kiss you in front of everyone?”

“I’m not going to handle it, because you’re not going to do that.”

“I will,” Sylus replies smoothly, slouching a little on his couch, “when I win the championship.”

“Don’t sound so sure,” you retort. You hate how straightforward he is.

Sylus’ eyes flutter shut when you run your fingers through his hair, a sigh escaping him.

“You should be more encouraging,” he says, petting your sides.

You smile faintly, tilting his head to kiss him. Sylus groans into your mouth, pulling you closer by the back of your neck until you’re making out sloppily, the sounds of fists colliding with skin playing on the tv behind you.

“Is- is that enough encouragement?” you ask breathily, pulling away with swollen lips.

Sylus stares up at you, his lips parted and hair messy and you think you might’ve taken that shower for nothing.

“Need a little more, baby,” he whispers, pulling you back.

He kisses you breathless, his hands slipping up under the shirt to feel your warm skin. You nuzzle into his cheek afterwards, looping your arms around his neck. He caresses your breasts idly, sometimes squeezing, other times simply grazing his thumbs over your areolas. 

A moment of silence passes before he’s speaking again.

“Kieran scratched your car.”

[thegoogoomuckkk]

NOW PLAYING

BREAKFAST, LUNCH, & DINNER PT. 1

Starring: Choso Kamo, Kento Nanami, Kiyotaka Ijichi, Sukuna Ryomen, Toji Fushiguro

The JJK men tend to have a healthy appetite when it comes to you

Warnings! oral (f receiving), overstimulation, praise, face-sitting, fingering, male masturbation, ass-play, degradation

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Choso Kamo: Determined <3

Choso maybe does a little bit too much research. He’s heard that some women don’t necessarily like getting head as much as other things. He can’t fathom this because you sucking his dick is about the most pleasurable thing he can think of besides being stuffed inside your cunt. Regardless, he wants to do his very best to make sure this is as pleasurable for you as it is for him; he’s just so concerned he’ll do a bad job. & it makes no difference how much you assure him that “you don’t have to if you don’t want to, sweetie,” & that even if he does do a bad job, you won’t be upset. No, that only encourages him that he needs to make this as good as possible. So when he finally makes up his mind, he’ll let you know as straightforward as usual, probably a text that has you choking on your coffee at 10:00am: “I want to eat you out tonight Y/N.” Straight to the point, as usual. & of course you’re excited, but a swirl of nervousness begins coiling in your stomach. Last time he had his head between your thighs, he was there for hours. 

He doesn’t like it when you talk, especially coherently, that means he’s not doing his job. “Faster? But when I go faster with my cock you cry. . .” “It feels good right, baby? Am I doing good?” “Shhh, s’okay, know you can cum for me again, pretty girl, don’t you wanna cum? I love it when you cum on my tongue, just for me.”

He tries to praise you, mimic the sweet things you say to him when you’re jerking him off or riding his cock, but he’s almost as fucked out as you are, & the praise never seems to sound as good spilling from his lips as it does from yours—at least, that’s what he thinks. But his soft spoken, sweet words cause your cunt to pulse against his tongue, so he tries for you anyways; tries anything, because if it gets you off, makes you feel even a fraction as good as you make him feel, he’s more than willing to do it!

He’s the type to eat you out until he loses track of time, cumming in his own pants once or twice, he doesn’t even need to put his cock in you. & it isn’t until you’re cross-eyed, sweaty, voice hoarse, & crying for him that he even considers stopping. “Did it feel good?” If you had any energy, you’d smack him upside the head. 

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Kento Nanami: Generous <3

If you were to ask Nanami what his favorite thing to do in bed was, it would be–hands-down, without a doubt, easily—eating you out. Of course, he’s a service top until the day he dies, but it’s more than that; he genuinely derives pleasure from making you feel good. After a long day of work, he comes home exhausted, bags under his eyes, muscles sore, & you’re thinking what you could do to make him feel better: a nice shower, a massage, & maybe—if he’d let you—sucking his dick. You’re pretty pleased with yourself about this little plan until you’ve got him in the bedroom, heading to the bathroom to turn on the shower & he’s tugging on your arm, pulling you down on the bed & wordlessly working off your pants. 

“Kento? Don’t you wanna shower first?” 

He shakes his head, “need to taste you, sweetheart, need it.” 

He hooks his arms under your knees, pulling your legs up & over his broad shoulders, making himself comfortable, in for the long haul.

His favorite is when you’ve sat down on him, hands gripping the headboard, mindlessly grinding against his face, chasing your own pleasure, head empty.  You feel bad sometimes, sitting on his face, or grinding your cunt against him, squeezing your thighs around his head, pulling his hair, but if anything, this adds to his enjoyment of it. He could sit with his head between your legs for as long as you’ll let him, & you always let him because he’s just so damn good at it; you don’t have to tell him what you want, what you need, because he already knows. 

He sticks his tongue into your tight hole, relishing, moaning at the way it spasms around it, working a finger in alongside it, curling it up to that special spot that has you throwing your head back & whining his name. Sucking on your clit, almost meanly because he knows, he knows, how overstimulated you are, how it hurts so good. 

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Kiyotaka Ijichi: Desperate <3

“You-you taste so good, pretty girl, s’good, please, n-no, don’t gotta run from it,” he whines as you attempt to rock your hips up off the bed, obviously grinding his hips onto the bed, hoping you won’t notice. He’s just so eager, he needs you to cum against his face just one more time. He’s whining like a poor puppy when you pull on his hair. Pathetic moans fill the air, & you’re losing it because there’s no technique, no method to the madness, just pure, sheer, utter desperation. & he’s apologizing into your soaking cunt as he ruts into the bed through his orgasm, potentially gaining more pleasure from this than you. It was always so easy to make Kiyotaka feel good, just your moans of “more, more, so good, Kiyo” had him whining into your pussy, palming his sore dick through his boxers. 

What he lacks in skill, he makes up for in eagerness; eager is the perfect word for the way Kiyotaka eats you, tongue lying flat over & over on your slit, tongue slipping in & out of your puckering hole, thumb circling your clit constantly, overwhelming your poor cunt. 

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Sukuna Ryomen: Aloof <3

It was rare that Sukuna ate you out, not because he doesn’t like it, don’t get it twisted, but it’s so vulnerable of him, & he can’t fully control himself when he’s between your legs. He’s contrastingly gently, savoring every inch of you, alternating between sucking on your thighs, teasing you to no end, & assaulting your clit with his tongue & his fingers. He loves to have your hips in his hands, manhandling you how he wants, fingertips leaving bruises on your waist, growling when you whine out, “w-wait ‘Kuna, s’too much,” because “Isn’t this what you wanted in the first place?” 

Maybe you had wanted this, but you hadn’t expected him to go on for so long. You couldn’t remember a time when you’d seen Sukuna have any form of patience, barely even prepping you before bullying his cocks into you, but here he was, taking his time with you, not even worried about his own pleasure, too enchanted by your honeyed pussy, just begging for him. 

He’ll never tell you this, but his favorite time to eat you out is when you’re on your period; he’ll disguise it by saying that it makes your scent stronger, but really he just wants to ease your pain & make you feel better.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Toji Fushiguro: Rug Muncher <3

God, he’s an asshole. Don’t get it wrong, he loves eating that sweet cunt of yours, but he also loves nothing more than teasing you. He’s got you on your knees, upper body resting on the sheets, pressing the chastest of kisses on your thighs, your folds, hands slowly gripping your ass, spreading it open for him, swirling his tongue around your puckered hole just above your pussy, pushing a finger in even though he knows you’re cunt is aching for him. He’ll get there. . .eventually. 

“Nghh—n-no, Toji, n-not there,” you whine, trying to pull away from his finger, but he just pushes it in deeper. 

“Not there? Where d’ya want in then, princess?” & fuck it, he knows where you want it, but he just can’t get over how perfect you are like this: needy, desperate, unabashed. You’re not afraid to beg for what you want. But he doesn’t give you time to ask. “You sure you aren’t just pretending not to like it? ‘Cause your pussy clenches every time I put my finger in here.” He laughs meanly, but then he’s sticking his tongue in your pussy, licking fat stripes front to back, spitting on it, shaking his head all up in it. Toji likes it when you give him messy head, & so of course he likes to return the favor.

You’re reaching down to rub your clit while he’s taking his sweet time getting you off & then he’s swatting your hand away because you’re gonna take what he gives you or get nothing at all.

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no, your honor, i don't believe in writing ooc headcanons. . .

LOOKING FOR SOME MORE? MASTERLIST <3

LOOKING FOR SOMETHING SPECIFIC? ASK <3

[00kittenz]

── smarty. ( pjs ) 🪷

๑ Jay has had enough of your brattiness for today, there’s only so much he can take.. so he may as well teach you a little lesson, right?

pair: bf!jay ㅊ gf!reader | warnings: smut, angst (??), small age gap (jay is 5 years older), d/s dynamics, bratty!reader, slight ddlg themes, spanking, p.ssy slapping, oral (f. rec), edging, crying, daddy kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, reader is implied to be a curvy/thick girly but anyone can read tbh ! | words: 1.7k

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“what’d i tell you about saying things like that?”

“i don’t care, it’s true !” you snarled, if it hadn’t been made clear how aggravated you were, it sure as hell was now.

you and jay spent the weekend with his parents at a resort somewhere in jeju. everything was going fine at first, that was until an unexpected guest invited themselves to join your little ‘family trip’. her name was hanna ? halie ? you don’t know and you didn’t care. what fogged your mind for the rest of the trip was how she clung up onto jay like the smoke to dry ice.

what agitated you even more about her was her need to call you out asking you a million questions about your clothing and how she’s so shocked that jay settled down with someone like you. all of her backhanded compliments would rub you the wrong way and she just gave you weird vibes. it’s as if you weren’t “pretty enough” to date him; according to her at least. don’t get it twisted, jay definitely shut all of that down. he wouldn’t let any woman pin you as anything less than you were. a fucking goddess.

“why’re you acting like this? what’d i even do?” he paused. “what haneul does has nothing to do with me.” he continued, eyes focused on the road. he’s become fed up with your constant nagging. maybe it’s just his level of maturity that makes him unable to see it, but he doesn’t understand why you worry so much, it was as if every ‘i love you the most’ ‘you’re my favorite’ ‘it’s only you’s’ didn’t matter. he felt like his words held no weight whatsoever.

“nothing to do with you ? hah, you’re the one who let her bombard our vacation. might i add family vacation.” you sterned, shifting your body closer to the door of the vehicle, looking out the window.

“what did you expect me to do y/n? she’s been a family friend for years now, i can’t just tell her to fuck off and go somewhere else. she’d go crying to my mom about how mean i was to her and that’s just extra drama that i don’t need right now..” he exhaled heavily, glancing at your avoidant figure. when he got no reply from you he left it be, turning up the music to avoid the awkward atmosphere the both of you created.

๑ ๑ ๑

“babe, can you pass me my frames ?” jay dared to ask even though you’d been ignoring him since the incident from earlier.

“y/n.” “please ?” watching as you hadn’t budged even a bit he grew upset. it was already bad enough for him that you were acting like he didn’t even exist, which was fine. though, he wouldn’t just take your constant disrespect.

so he got rid of what seemed to be your main source of attention. your phone.

“what the fuck, jay !” you reached at him. “give me my phone !”

“jay !” he mocked, his voice altering to sound high pitched like yours. “don’t you see that i’m trying put things back together? why do you have to act like such a child.” he was disappointed in you. you were a fully legal adult, yet your actions said differently.

“strip.” jay broke the silence you let fill the room. you were hesitant, and confused, but at least you were actually looking at him now. “you heard me, now.” his brow raised as his mouth slipped a scoff.

were you just gonna let him boss you around ? definitely not. were you feeling intimidated ? yes. but your pride stood stronger than the trouble you’d get into. you breathe heavily finding your way to the door of your bedroom for your dramatic escape; until you felt a tug at your arm and then the softness of your mattress, cosigned with the weight of your built boyfriend.

“i guess i have to do everything myself today, huh ?” jay sounded calm but you knew otherwise, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t let this play out just to see this side of him. ‘cause you did. hell, you felt your wetness dripping past the wall of your ass, the sticky sensation sending your body chills.

the jingle of his belt caught your attention, but before you could even glance at him, your face was meshed with the comforter of your shared bed. you shriek.

“jay— !”

“oh now you wanna talk ? huh, funny.” his hand sent goosebumps throughout your body as he runs his palm over your clothed ass. “it’s a shame you don’t listen. now your pretty tails gonna be all red.” he pinched the fabric of your skirt flicking it upwards onto your lower back.

“ ‘m sorry..” you uttered feeling him tug at your underwear.

now, jay was ignoring you. all you felt was him adjusting your waist, so that your ass sat in the air.

“‘m really sorry..ja—” you pause, shrieking at the leather that came in contact with your silky skin. if you could describe the feel of it, it’s like a slow burn, a slow burning that spread like wildfire everytime he unleashed the branded weapon on you.

discipline is a topic your parents took lightly. yeah, they disciplined you, but it was never a ‘bend over my knee’ type of discipline. more like, every morning you wake up ‘sit in that corner’ type of discipline. jay never went soft on you when it came down to it. he wanted to make sure you never do whatever you’re in trouble for again.

“crying ? what’re you crying for,” jay never pushed aside your emotions, he had to hear you out or his guilt would eat him alive. hearing you sniffle shot a sort of worry in him.

“listen, you put yourself in this situation—” he paused throwing his belt. “you already know what happens when you wanna act like a brat.” he palmed your cunt. he wasn’t going to baby you this time, that’s all he ever did. maybe this was partially his fault too..

subconsciously, you felt yourself grinding on his hand. you were needy, you always were after a punishment, even if he didn’t know. but now, you were on display. there was no way he wouldn’t find out.

“you’re such a fucking slut,” his thumb caressing your entrance, pushing your sweetness through your dewy folds. “already so wet for daddy, hm?” his thumb slid through your sticky walls in a in and out motion. your slick caking his finger everytime he pulled it from inside you.

“please..” was a constant that came from your mouth. you didn’t know what you were pleading for. more ? less ? what was it ? you only knew that he made you feel so good. the look of him drenched you. you wanted him to slut you out. ruin you.

“please ? please what?” he couldn’t help but snort at you. the mere thought that you can get what you want with just a please— scratch that. the thought that you think you can get whatever you want after testing his patience, made him laugh. “please.. forgive me ?”

“i dunno..m” you slurred, you were estatic. just his thumb, making you feel so dumb. it made you feel small, like you were nothing but a tiny spectacle of dust.

“you dunno..? wan’ me to help you find out ?” you were flipped onto your back before you knew it. once you saw the shift in his eyes change, you knew what he was prone to do. the thought itself making you spread your legs wide open.

you even made the mistake of trying to rub yourself. that quickly got disposed.

“you lost your damn mind ?” his hand reached down to slap your weeping pussy.

“baby, i can’t wait.. please!” you whined watching as he kneeled down, face between your begging thighs, hands cupping each pretty chunk of flesh.

“but you can.” “matter of fact, you will.” he blew onto your core. the cold sensation bringing your hips to a jolt. his eyes scanned your smaller figure watching every expression that played out on your face, then down to your breasts. “lift up your shirt, let me see your beautiful body, baby.”

earning yourself a “good little girl.” when you comply.

๑ ๑ ๑

you hadn’t gotten a break since he started his mouth on you. drinking in your first orgasm, then the second. seems like you were now on your third.

“fuck.. jay.” you groaned your hips aching to move in his grasp. you’d try not to breakdown whenever his nose came in touch with your throbbing clit.

“you done ? talk to me baby.” he growled against your heat. his warm breath made you thirsty. he was eating you like it was his last supper. ripping you to absolute shreds.

“i’m gonna come, daddy..” your legs were shaking, your voice was whiney, and you needed an exhale. once he started sucking on your clit your back arched. at him, the feel, and the thought of him, making you feel.

“yeah, you gonna come for me ?”

“yeah.. wan’ come for you..” you spoke through labored breaths. once your moaning got louder, he stopped. he’d love to make you come, third times a charm. but he wasn’t going to. he basically lured you in just to trick you.

“jayy !” “it was right there, i was about to cum !” you childishly whined at the begging sensation between your legs. the quivering feeling making you force your legs closed to suppress the throbbing feel. you felt his hungry stare on you. you knew he wanted you. it’s when you realized this wasn’t an after punishment treat. he was edging you. right after overstimulating you. how cruel..

“aww, look at you ! my pretty girl..” he pouted at you, your sad, twitching state. you were groaning for more as he watched you. pitying you. how could you have thought it was over? after a mere spanking ? silly.

“i guess you really thought huh.” he cackled. “ooh ! should we order room service.. i’m kinda hungry. you ?” he got up to go and search for the phone.

maybe you did deserve this. shouldn’t be acting so damn bratty all the time, even if it’s in your nature to piss him off. now look at you. eyes all watery, and a mess between your legs.

oh well, not his problem.

[thebestsetter]

Thinking about Isagi Yoichi being a nervous wreck for your guys first date.

He doesn't even know how he managed to get you to say yes to his shitty proposal. It all went wrong, but, as always, you made the wrong seem right and did the unthinkable: you agreed to going on a date with him.

This date needed to go perfectly. He can't mess this opportunity up. You were going to see how he's the perfect boyfriend for you, both gentle and funny, and accept his "proposal" when he asked the awaited question: "Do you want to be my girlfriend?".

I mean, c'mon, going on a date with a girl can't be that hard, right...? Well, for Isagi it sure was. Because it wasn't just a girl. It was you. And that thought alone made him feel like he might faint on the spot.

And so, the week preceding your date with him, Yoichi is planning everything meticulously. He needed every help he could get.

And who is better to help him than his friends?

7 days before the date.

"No, no!" Isagi screamed "She wouldn't act like that! You're not helping at all, Nagi."

"I wanna sleep." Seishiro said, removing the phone that he was holding in front of his face with your picture on it "Why does it have to be with me and in my room? Can't you practice in front of a mirror or something?"

"It doesn't feel the same!" Isagi huffed, running his hands through his hair "Just one more time. Remember, I helped you hide from Barou when he chased after you for wetting the bed with your hair, and you said you owned me one. Therefore, you're repaying me and can't run away from this."

"Okay then" Nagi snored, and put the phone with your photo in front of his face again

"Try to get her personality right this time" Isagi rolled his eyes and grabbed the paper with his speech. The moment he looked at your face, he blushed hard. Boy, he was so head over heels for you it was almost ridiculous. "Hey! How are you today? Hope you're doing fine!" Okay, great start. I didn't stutter. This is going to be perfect.

"Hello Yoichi-kun. I'm fine, thank you for asking. How about you." Nagi said monotonously while reading his own paper with the phrases he was supposed to say. It was actually kinda funny how he said this without any emotion.

"I was doing well, but I'm feeling e-even better now that you're here!" Yoichi said and shot Nagi finger guns while showing a strained smile. "So, where do you wanna sit--"

"Nagi! I bought you some lemon tea!!--"

"REO! KNOCK BEFORE ENTERING." Isagi said while his cheeks burned with a red so bright you could amost see smoke coming out his ears.

"Isagi. What the actual fuck--"

6 days before the date.

"I'm surprised you even decided to help me" Yoichi said while looking at a menu

"It's out of pity" Reo, who was sitting in front of him, said "You are helpless. But I'm gonna help you make her have the best date of her life" he smirked

Doing a signal with his hands, Reo called his driver, who parked the car right in front of their table.

"Okay. Now, get into the car."

"Uh... where are we going?? I thought you told me to meet you here so we could practice how I would act."

"And that's exactly what we're gonna do. Just get into the car, don't you trust me?"

'No I don't' Isagi thought, but he didn't say anything. He stepped into the car, obtaining a smirk from Reo, who also entered the vehicle.

"See, that wasn't that hard, was it?" His smirk widened, but soon disappeared when Mikage put on a serious face "Now, pretend I'm her. Here's the situation: we just got to the place of the date and we're about to leave the car. What do you do?"

"I... open the car door, get out and close it right after."

"Wrong. You open the car door, get out, hold it for her so she can also exit and then close it. Geez, this is going to be harder than I thought." Reo sighed "Now, let's practice. Do what I just told you"

Isagi nodded. He then opened the door, got out of the car and held it open so Reo could also exit.

Just when he thought it was all going well, a bee landed on his nose. Desperate to scare the insect, he started to shake his hands in front of his nose

"Shoo! Shoo!"

"OUCH!"

"Oh shit." The same hand he was using to scare the bee away was also the hand he was previously using to hold the car door. And his hand couldn't do 2 things at the same time. So, when he released the door, it strongly hit Reo's face.

"Shit. Reo, I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too, but it's not because of me" Reo made an angry face while rubbing his forehead "I'm sorry for your date. Let's try again. Do it properly this time."

With a sigh, Isagi entered the car again.

5 days before the date.

"I can't believe I'm gonna say this, but I need your help, Otoya." Yoichi said and swallowed hard, knowing that his next words would be a punch to his ego, but it needed to be done. "I'm a disaster! When I was training with Reo, I spilled coffe on him, the car door hit his face and I made him fall when I pulled the chair so he could sit on it. And I know you talk to a lot of girls, so you must know what to do."

"You came to the right place, dude." Otoya smirked and held open his shared dorm's door "Fear not, me and Tabito are going to help you get that girl."

Okay. When he said they'd "help him make you fall for him", he didn't imagine it meant watching Otoya flirting with Karasu wearing a wig for 10 minutes straight.

"Did you take notes?" Eita asked

"Yeah, I did" Isagi bashfully answered while holding up the little notebook he had in hand, which was full of notes about Otoya's advices on how to "step up his game".

"Okay, now it's your turn." The ninja said, seating down

"W-what? I didn't know I would also have to flirt with Karasu"

"It's for practice only! And you just have to pretend it's not me" Tabito answered, and then made a high pitched voice "I'm the girl you like!" He battered his eyelashes and put his hands together.

"S-sure..." Yoichi said, getting up "Okay so... uhm... how do I start?"

"Tell her a pick up line"

"Any?"

"Any."

"...do you play soccer? Cause you're a keeper." followed by finger guns.

The silence in the room was almost papable. Otoya and Karasu exchanged looks. Isagi was sweating. Karasu and Otoya locked gazes again. And then all of a sudden...

They began to laugh. Hard.

"Oh shit..." Karasu said, wiping away a tear from his eyes "This was so bad!"

"I know, right?" Otoya agreed "He did the finger guns and all that"

"W-what?! Was it that bad??"

"The worst I've ever seen. I wish i had recorded it"

"Nah, don't worry. I did, it's right here."

"KARASU, DELETE THAT RIGHT NOW."

4 day before the date

"Okay..." Chigiri said, analysing Isagi's hair "Based on the shape of your head, we could do a buzzcut. Ladies like it."

"You're sure you know how to cut people's hair right?" Isagi asked nervously

"Yeah I do. Just sit back, relax and let me do my thing"

With a sigh, Isagi sat down on a chair in his room, patting his pants with his hands

"It's just that this week has been absolute hell for me! I screw everything up everytime I try to practice for my date! The way things are going, she's going to hate it! I'm actually so scared right now you have no idea"

"I didn't remember telling you I could be your therapist" Chigiri smirked (what's with his friends always smirking at him??) "But if I coukd give my input in this, I'd say you just need to be yourself. Don't try to change. You're a nice guy, I'm sure she'll like the date"

"That... actually helped. Thank you Chigiri."

"You're welcome."

Wow. Things were going great for once. Nothing bad had happened! Maybe it meant that his luck was back, and the date was going to actually go as planeed!

"Uhm... Chigiri. There's hair in my nose"

"Just brush it off"

"I'm scared to move"

"Why? Just take it off"

"If I don't move, nothing can go wrong"

"Ugh, I'll take it off for you, you traumatized coward"

Yoichi discovered something today: his nose is very sensible. He just wishes he had discovered it in a different way.

*ATCHOO*

"Fuck."

"What? Is it over?"

"I'm done here. I did my work." Chigiri said in a hurry, packing his things quickly and then leaving. But before he stepped out the door, he shouted "I'd suggest you look at the mirror" he then smiled worriedly and shut the door

"Look in the mirror? What does he even mean...?"

When Isagi saw the hole in his hair, he let out a scream the whole neighbourhood heard.

The third day before the date was spent solving the hair issue

2 days before the date

"I don't have clothes."

"What do you mean you don't have clothes? What about all of these T-shirts on the floor?"

"None of them are good enough!" Isagi shouted

"I think you're too worried about this date" Hiori commented "Everything will go just fine, don't worry"

"Yeah! You just have to act as yourself!" Bachira added "If she accepted to go out with you, it means she already likes you, even if just a little!"

"I don't know, I think I might just cancel it. I think I'm too plain and boring for her?? I don't really know it anymore, man."

"There's NO WAY you're going to cancel it" Hiori said. With a jump, he got up from Isagi's bed, held his shoulders ans shook them while he spoke to him "Listen here tou little shit: I will NOT tolerate your endless rambling about her anymore. You finally got a date with her and want to throw it all away because of some senseless insecurity?? She accepted because she already likes you, Isagi. You don't need a whole new personality, new looks or anything. Just go as yourself. I can't take you talking about how you wish you were her boyfriend and all the things you want to do with her. Just grow a pair of balls and go to that date, goddamit!"

A gentle silence settled on the room

"He's right, you know?" Bachira broke the silence, unusually serious "You don't need to be Otoya, Reo or Karasu to make her like you. Just do what you'd normally do. I'm sure she'll like it"

"I think you guys are right" Isagi said, smiling "I'll just be myself!" He looked at the air and clenched his fist, doing a celebration and determined pose.

"Yeah!" Bachira hyped him up "That's the spirit! "

"Just drop the finger guns please" Hiori joked

"WHAT'S WRONG WITH MY FINGER GUNS??"

The day of the date.

He wasn't as nervous anymore. The talk with Hiori and Bachira really did help him, after all. He was actually determined.

You both were going to enjoy the date. He would make sure of it.

"Wow. You look beautiful" Isagi said, looking you up and down when he saw you at the restaurant. Turns out Reo's lesson was useless, since you both didn't share a car together.

"Thank you!" You said, giggling "You also look very handsome if I do say so myself!"

Isagi reached for the hand that was behind his back and pulled out a red rose

"For me?" You smiled, grabbed the rose and sniffled it. And oh, how he wished you'd smile only at him for the rest of his and your life. It made him feel even better knowing that he was the one who made you smile so brightly

He gently grabbed the flower from your hands and put it in your hair, putting a strand of your hair behind your ear in the process, careful to not let the thorns prickle you. He then smiled and grabbed your hands, looking you straight in the eye

"It reminded me of you, since you're both pretty"

Old habits die hard, they say. And so, even though everyone told him not to do it, he did it. The finger guns.

"I-it was cringy, wasn't it?" He said, nervous, when he saw you laughing at his (pathetic) attempt at flirting

"No it wasn't. I think it's kinda cute, actually" you linked both your arms together and smiled at him again (damn woman, did you want to kill him?) "Now let's go have the best date ever!"

You were perfect. And so, when you both entered the restaurant, there was only three things on Isagi's head, and he would make sure that all of them were going to happen.

Be yourself.

Enjoy.

Make her smile.

And so, you both went inside the restaurant, ready for fun and not knowing you'd get out with a new title that you would both proudly wear: "boyfriend and girlfriend".

~ A/N: Not proofread!! Also, I actually hate this sm omg

[brunchable]

Winter Prince, Part One: I Was Enchated To Meet You

Pairings: Prince, Soon to be King AU Bucky Barnes x Out of place, Princess Reader

Words: 4.5K

Themes: Regency Period AU, Instant attraction, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut.

Summary: Trapped in the palace gardens, Y/N’s escape attempt is interrupted by a mysterious charming man who offers to help. Little does she know, the man she’s avoiding is the one lifting her over the wall.

A/N: You're damn right I took inspiration to Queen Charlotte. Let's call this a "retelling" Bucky will still have his metal arm in this to keep it interesting.

The sound of hooves echoed in the distance, the rhythmic gallop of a horse cutting through the stillness of the early morning. You clutched your dress tighter around you, the fabric tangled in your fingers as you stood before the towering stone wall, your heart pounding. You were almost free—almost—but the moment stretched painfully, as if the world itself held its breath with you.

You glanced over your shoulder, the imposing silhouette of the palace barely visible through the mist. It loomed behind you, a symbol of everything you were bound to—everything you were trying to escape.

Your breath hitched as the soft thudding of hooves grew louder, and you turned back to the wall. Climbing it had seemed easy in the few moments of adrenaline-fueled desperation, but now, standing before it, you realized how futile it was. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t scale the stone, couldn’t flee the life that had been thrust upon you.

The horse slowed, and you heard someone dismount, the creak of leather and the solid thud of boots hitting the ground. Your fingers trembled as you placed them against the wall, ready to make one final, frantic attempt. But before you could take another step, his voice cut through the mist.

“Running away?”

You froze, heat rushing to your cheeks. His tone wasn’t harsh, nor was it amused—just… curious, and that only annoyed you more. 

Slowly, you turned toward the voice, expecting to see one of the palace guards ready to drag you back inside. Instead, a man stood before you, taller than you had imagined, with dark hair tousled by the wind, his sharp features softened by the morning light. He was dressed in simple riding attire, a cloak draped over his broad shoulders, but there was an elegance about him. Certainly not a guard, then?

“Are you going to stop me?” you asked, your voice breathless, daring as your fingers tightened against the stone. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

He chuckled softly, and the sound sent a strange warmth curling through you. “I don’t know,” he mused, a playful glint in his eyes as he stepped closer, “Should I? You seem to be doing a fine job of stopping yourself.”

Your mouth parted in disbelief, heat rising to your face again. “Excuse me?”

He nodded at the wall. “Well, you don’t exactly look like you’re about to make it over, do you?”

You scowled, crossing your arms over your chest. “I didn’t ask for your commentary.”

The man raised a brow, his lips twitching into a smile. “I’m just saying, climbing walls isn’t for everyone. Especially not someone in a gown.”

“I wasn’t aware I needed your approval to escape,” you shot back, glancing at the wall again and then back at him, frustration bubbling inside you. “Why don’t you just go about your business and let me fail in peace?”

His grin widened, and he crossed his arms, his posture too relaxed for someone who’d just found a would-be escapee. 

“I could help you.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the offer. “Help me?” you echoed, suspicion lacing your words. “Why would you help me?”

“Maybe I like seeing people succeed at impossible things,” he teased, the smirk never leaving his face. “Or maybe I’m just curious to see how far you’ll get.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, crossing your arms tighter. “I don’t trust you.”

“Smart,” he said with a laugh. “But if you want to get over that wall, you’re going to need more than distrust.”

You looked up at the towering stones again, dread gnawing at you. He was right, as irritating as that was. But still…

“And what do you get out of this, then?” you asked, glancing at him warily.

He leaned casually against the wall, watching you intently. “A conversation,” he said, his voice suddenly softer, less teasing. “Tell me why you’re running.”

You scowled at him, the heat rising in your cheeks again, and turned your gaze back to the wall. Frustration bubbled inside you, and you began pacing, sizing up the towering stones as if staring at them hard enough would magically make them easier to climb.

“I don’t need your help,” you muttered under your breath, though you weren’t sure if you were talking to him or the wall at this point. 

You glanced back up at the impossible height of the stone barrier, chewing on your lip as you tried to mentally map out some kind of strategy—any way to make it work. You huffed, planting your hands on your hips, and shifted from foot to foot, casting the man a glare every now and then. He just stood there, arms crossed, watching you with an amused expression, as if you were the most entertaining thing he’d seen in a long time.

After a few moments of pacing and staring—then pacing some more—you let out an exasperated sigh and kicked a small stone out of your path, turning back to face him, arms crossed.

“Well?” you asked, your voice a little more breathless than you’d have liked. “What’s so funny?”

He shook his head, but the grin he was trying to hide betrayed him. 

“Nothing,” he said, the words dripping with humor. “Just… you look like you’re trying to intimidate the wall into letting you pass.”

You glared at him, heat flooding your cheeks. “Maybe I am. Maybe it’ll work.”

His chuckle turned into full-blown laughter, and the sound of it—rich and genuine—sent a strange warmth curling through you, despite your annoyance. He had that kind of laugh that you hated admitting was contagious, and you found your lips twitching upward before you could stop yourself.

“I’m serious!” you huffed, though the playful tone was creeping into your own voice.

He rubbed a hand over his jaw, still chuckling softly as he shook his head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, a mix of frustration and embarrassment bubbling up inside you, but you couldn’t help the flutter in your chest at the way he looked at you.

“Are you just going to laugh at me the whole time, or are you actually going to help?”

He raised his hands in surrender, his grin still firmly in place. “Alright, alright. I’ll help.” 

He took a step closer, the playfulness still in his eyes as he lowered his voice, leaning just a fraction nearer. “But only because I want to see how this goes.”

“Fine,” you muttered, stepping back toward the wall. “Just… don’t get in the way.”

Behind you, you could hear him chuckling softly to himself again, and though it made your frustration bubble over, there was something undeniably magnetic about the way he seemed to find you so… endearing.

And as you started pacing again, casting glances at the wall, trying to figure out just how on earth you’d manage to get over it, you caught him out of the corner of your eye—his gaze still fixed on you, the smile never leaving his face.

You huffed to yourself, kicking at another stone. Of course, the man who found you trying to escape was now laughing at you, and somehow, it didn’t feel as awful as it should.

“How long will you keep pacing around like that?” 

“I’m not pacing,” you grumbled, though you absolutely were.

“Oh, you are,” he countered with a grin. “You’re doing laps. Like maybe if you circle it enough, the wall will shrink. Or get tired of you and let you through.”

Your jaw tightened as heat rose to your cheeks. “I’m sizing it up,” you snapped, planting your hands on your hips as you glanced back at the wall, your frustration bubbling over.

He wasn’t even trying to hide how much he was enjoying this, and it only made your chest tighten with frustration. Why did he have to look so effortlessly amused by your struggle?

“Well?” you demanded, trying to maintain some semblance of authority in the situation. “You know you’re actually not helping?”

“Forgive me, but watching you intimidate the wall might be the most entertaining thing I’ve seen all week.”

You let out an exasperated huff, resisting the urge to stomp your foot in frustration. “I wasn’t intimidating it, I was—”

He cut you off with a light chuckle, waving his hand dismissively. “Sizing it up. Right.”

You were too stunned to respond. The man was infuriating, no question about it, but the warmth in his voice, the look in his eyes—there was something about him that softened the edges of your frustration, made it feel less like a confrontation and more like… banter.

You shook your head, forcing yourself to focus. No, this was not the time to get distracted by some smug, arrogant man who was finding far too much joy in your struggle. You turned back to the wall, determination flaring inside you.

“If you’re going to help, do it already,” you muttered, planting your hands on your hips again.

“Let’s see how far you can get with a little help.” he said, his voice low and teasing.

He stopped in front of you, eyes gleaming with amusement as he glanced at the towering wall. “You ready?”

You crossed your arms, lifting an eyebrow at him. “Do I have a choice?”

He smirked, leaning down slightly. “Not if you want to get over that wall today.”

You eyed him warily, but there was something in his smile, something disarmingly warm beneath all that arrogance. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you sighed and placed your hand in his.

His grip was firm, strong, and you felt the warmth of his palm seep into your skin as he stepped even closer. The flutter in your chest deepened, but you swallowed it down, ignoring the strange thrill of having him so near.

“Alright,” he said, crouching slightly and motioning toward his shoulders, “Put your foot here, and I’ll lift you up.”

You blinked at him, a sudden rush of heat flooding your face. Wait, what?

“I’m going to boost you over,” he explained, clearly amused at your hesitation. “Unless you’d rather keep pacing around?”

You huffed, your cheeks burning. 

“Fine,” you muttered, carefully lifting your foot toward his shoulder. “But—” You paused, biting your lip as another wave of heat rushed through you. “Don’t look up.”

His grin widened, but he managed to keep his voice steady. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You gave him a skeptical look, your heart thudding loudly in your ears as you gingerly placed your foot on his shoulder. 

“Don’t look up,” you reminded him, your voice sharper, but the flush in your cheeks was impossible to ignore.

“I heard you the first time,” he chuckled softly, keeping his gaze firmly straight ahead.

He hoisted you up easily, his hands firm at your waist, but as soon as you tried to gain some leverage, the fabric of your gown bunched awkwardly around your legs, trapping you mid-air. Your heart pounded as you wobbled, your foot slipping slightly, and for a moment you flailed, trying to catch your balance. The wall still seemed impossibly high, and every move made your gown twist tighter around you, making it harder to gain any footing.

“Careful,” He grunted, steadying you with his grip. “Got it?”

You didn’t. Not at all.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered, your voice strained with effort as you tried to move again. The fabric pulled tighter around your legs, making it impossible to lift yourself further. “This dress—how do women escape anything in these things?”

He laughed, and you could feel the vibrations of it under your hands. 

“You’re doing great,” he teased, clearly biting back more laughter. “But if you keep kicking like that, I might not be able to hold you much longer.”

You shot him a glare over your shoulder, heat flooding your face. “This isn’t funny!”

“Oh, it’s very funny from down here,” he said, still chuckling, though his grip on your waist stayed steady.

Another attempt to maneuver only resulted in more tangled fabric. You groaned, realizing that this wasn’t going to work. No matter how hard you tried, the dress wouldn’t let you lift your legs high enough to get over the wall.

“Alright, alright,” you sighed, feeling thoroughly embarrassed as you gave up. “Put me down.”

“You sure? You were making great progress,” he teased, but his hands were already lowering you back down to the ground, the warmth of his touch lingering even as your feet found solid ground again.

As soon as you stood, you stepped back, brushing dirt from your gown and trying to ignore the way your heart still raced, both from the failed climb and from how close he had been.

“Well,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him, “that was a disaster.”

He leaned back on his heels, his grin wide and playful. “Not a total disaster. I got a front-row seat to the best entertainment in town.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, glaring at him, though the blush creeping up your neck betrayed how flustered you were. 

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

He chuckled again, crossing his arms to mirror you. “Can’t say it’s not entertaining.”

You sighed and looked around, now you owed him an explanation as to why you’re trying to run away.

“I don’t want to marry a stranger,” you whispered, surprising even yourself with the truth. “I don’t want to be locked away in that palace for the rest of my life, tied to someone I’ve never met.”

He didn’t speak for a second, his expression softening as he studied you. Then, in a gentle tone, he asked, “And who is this stranger you’re so desperate to avoid?”

You sighed, casting a quick glance around as if the mist might swallow you whole. 

“Prince James,” you admitted quietly, your words barely louder than the mist. “I’ve never seen him, never even heard his voice. I don’t know if he’s kind or cruel, if he’s young or old. For all I know, he could be—”

“Hideous?” the man supplied, a glimmer of amusement flickering in his eyes again.

You gave a small, reluctant smile despite yourself. “Or snotty. Cold. Aloof. Traits that I most certainly cannot stand nor find attractive.”

The man chuckled softly, shaking his head as he took a step closer. “Snotty, huh?”

“Well, royalty,” you said, with a little shrug. “They tend to be.”

He studied you again, something like amusement flickering across his face, but there was no mockery in it, just something warm and knowing. 

“You could say I’ve met him a time or two.”

Your brows furrowed at his familiarity with the prince. “Then what’s he like?” you asked, searching his expression for any hint of truth. “Is he… good?”

He seemed to consider your question, his gaze turning thoughtful as though weighing each word. “He’s... complicated,” he finally said, his voice softer, almost wistful. “Not the man people expect him to be.”

You frowned and sarcastically you said, “That’s really comforting.”

But before he could answer, a loud shout echoed from the palace grounds, and you both turned, startled. Your stomach lurched in panic.

“I need to go,” you whispered frantically, your pulse racing as you prepared to bolt.

His hand caught yours before you could move, the warmth of his skin against yours sending a jolt of something startling through you. You looked up at him, breathless.

“I could still help you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing the back of your hand. His eyes held yours, deep and unreadable, as though he were making a decision only he could understand.

But there was something in his gaze now, something almost… regretful. 

“Speak what you need to say.” you whispered, the realization dawning on you in slow, staggering pieces.

He didn’t answer immediately, his eyes searching yours like he could read the thoughts swirling in your head. He let out a soft sigh and tilted his head, a playful sparkle returning to his eyes.

“What if…” he began, his voice low, “what if the prince isn’t some distant, unfeeling man? What if he’s just a person who hates the cage he’s been placed in as much as you do?”

You blinked, confusion tightening your chest. “What are you talking about?”

He took a step closer, his thumb still grazing the back of your hand, sending that maddening warmth through you. “What if Prince James isn’t the man people whisper about? What if he’s spent his whole life wondering if anyone would see him instead of the title?”

Your breath caught in your throat. The weight of his words settled like stones in your chest, and you stared at him, trying to make sense of what he was saying. “Why would he care? He’s a prince—soon to be King. He’s powerful, he has everything.”

He gave a small, almost sad smile. “What if the power isn’t worth much if it means living a life filled with expectations instead of choices?”

You frowned, shaking your head. “But he could change things if he wanted to.”

James—because you were sure of it now, he wasn’t just some rider—tilted his head, amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. “What if it’s not that simple? What if the weight of the crown is heavier than it looks?”

Your heart raced as the pieces slowly started to click together. He was still toying with you, but now there was a seriousness beneath it, something deeper. You could see the flicker of emotion behind his blue eyes, like he was daring you to understand.

“What if…” he continued, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper, “the prince is standing right in front of you, hoping you’ll see him?”

The world tilted beneath you. The way he spoke, the familiarity in his tone, the way he carried himself… it all made sense now. And suddenly, the puzzle that had been scattered before you came together in a startling rush of clarity.

“You’re—” The words stuck in your throat as your heart pounded harder, realization hitting you with full force. “You’re Prince James.”

He smiled, a mixture of apology and relief in his expression. “I suppose I am.”

Your mind reeled, his confession crashing over you cold bucket of water. Prince James. The man you had been speaking to, was the very one you were trying to escape. The very one you had feared. Your heart pounded, your pulse a frantic beat in your ears as you looked up at him—really looked at him—for the first time.

You took a step back, your breath hitching in your throat as your gaze swept over him. The dark hair tousled by the morning breeze, the sharp features softened by the mist, the broad shoulders, the casual strength in the way he stood. How had you not realized before? How had you missed it?

Prince James.

"Hello, Y/N." He smiled earnestly, taking your breath away.

Your mouth opened, but no words came. You were speechless. Absolutely, utterly speechless.

His lips twitched in that same infuriating, knowing half-smile, the one that had seemed so harmless before but now felt charged with meaning. 

“I suppose I’m not what you were expecting,” he murmured, his voice low, almost apologetic.

You shook your head, still trying to find your voice, but it was like the words had fled, leaving only the rush of your thoughts, jumbled wildly together. He’s the prince. The one you had dreaded. The one you had tried so hard to avoid.

But he wasn’t at all what you imagined. He wasn’t cold, or distant, or cruel. He was standing here, watching you, his expression open, almost vulnerable, as if he was waiting for your reaction, for you to decide what came next.

Your eyes darted over him again, taking in every detail as if seeing him for the first time—the way his cloak clung to his broad frame, the way his eyes, intense and unwavering, seemed to burn through every wall you'd built around yourself.

And then the shouts echoed again, louder this time, and your stomach clenched with a fresh wave of panic. The palace. The guards. They were looking for you.

His gaze flickered toward the sound, the slightest crease forming between his brows before his eyes were back on you, sharp and unrelenting.

“You need to go,” he said, voice low but urgent. Like the moment itself was slipping away.

“I—” You swallowed hard, your words tangled with the storm raging inside you. You—him—everything felt too much, too fast.

He stepped closer, his hand lifting as if to touch you—like he had to—like he needed to—but stopped just short, his fingers lingering in the air, his breath mingling with yours. 

“I felt the same,” he said, his words rushing out, fierce, quiet. “Curious about you. Wondering if you were like the rest of them, if you were cold, detached. Wondering if you were trapped like me.”

You blinked, caught off guard, your pulse roaring in your ears. What?

“I was afraid,” he continued, his eyes searing into yours. “Afraid you were someone I wouldn’t want to know. Someone I couldn’t stand to look at. I was afraid of you.”

His words hit you like a thunderclap, stealing your breath, your heart stumbling in your chest.

“But gods,” he breathed, his voice dropping to a whisper, “I was wrong.”

You stared at him, utterly speechless, the air thick between you. Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it.

He took another step closer, his eyes wild, full of something unnameable. “You’re everything I didn’t dare to hope for. You’re bold, you’re brave, and you’re—” His voice broke off, and you watched as his gaze dropped to your lips, then snapped back to your eyes, something fierce and desperate flickering there.

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. His words slammed into you, your mind reeling, your heart racing as his admission hung between you, fragile and powerful all at once.

The shouts echoed again, and your body jolted with the reminder of reality crashing back in.

“I need to go,” you whispered, your voice trembling as the world swirled around you.

But before you could move, his hand finally touched yours—fingers brushing against yours, sending a spark through your skin that made you freeze.

“I was wrong about you,” he murmured, his gaze locking with yours, eyes blazing with a heat that made you want to lean into him, to forget the world. “So wrong.”

You swallowed, every nerve in your body alive, humming. His hand slid up, cradling your wrist, his thumb brushing the delicate skin, like he couldn’t stop touching you. 

“Go,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. “Go before I make you stay.”

Your feet refused to move, your heart slamming against your ribs. But you nodded, turning to slip back toward the palace, your body buzzing with his words, the intensity of his gaze.

But before you could disappear into the shadows, you heard him call out—his voice loud, clear, commanding.

You froze, crouching behind the tall hedge, heart hammering against your ribs as you peered through the mist. The guards had gathered around him now, their faces tense with focus as James, with that steady authority in his voice, pointed them in the wrong direction.

“She went the other way—toward the east gate!” His voice was sure, a lie delivered with the ease of someone accustomed to being obeyed. And just like that, the guards nodded, falling in line with his instructions as they turned, their heavy footsteps fading in the opposite direction.

Your pulse thrummed in your ears as you watched them leave, your body still coiled with tension, waiting for something to go wrong. But James remained still, standing tall as the mist curled around him, his face calm, unreadable. And when the last of the guards disappeared into the distance, he did something that made your breath catch.

He glanced back over his shoulder—directly at where you were hiding.

His gaze found yours through the thick hedges, that same intense, burning look he had given you earlier, and for a brief moment, the world stood still. He didn’t move, didn’t say anything, but his eyes held yours with a weight that made it hard to breathe, the unspoken connection between you hanging in the air.

Then, with a slow nod—so subtle you almost missed it—he turned, walking away, his figure swallowed by the swirling mist.

You exhaled, finally letting out the breath you’d been holding. Your entire body was trembling, your mind reeling from everything that had just happened. He had protected you.

Prince James, had lied for you, bought you time, and now the palace loomed ahead, quiet, waiting. Your fingers tightened around the fabric of your gown as you stood up, pressing yourself against the stone wall, making your way back toward the safety of the palace.

You moved silently, your steps soft against the cobblestone as you slipped through the garden paths, every corner casting long shadows. You had to be careful. You couldn’t risk being caught now.

Reaching the palace doors, you hesitated for a moment, glancing back toward the mist-shrouded garden. James was gone now, but his presence lingered, the promise of his words still echoing in your mind.

With one last breath, you pulled open the door, slipping inside the familiar corridors of the palace, the warmth of its stone walls closing in around you. It was quiet here, the rest of the palace still asleep, unaware of the storm that had passed just outside its walls.

As you hurried back to your chambers, your heart finally began to slow, but your mind buzzed with everything that had just unfolded. James hadn’t just protected you; he had seen you—really seen you. And now, there was no denying it.

You weren’t running from him anymore.

You were walking straight back to him.

[asunflowerana]

will you go to prom with me?

summary: prom is near, and your sweet, popular friend will do anything to have you as his date.

with: Gojo Satoru.

warnings: yandere behavior, blackmailing (not from satoru), slight blood mentions.

words: 1448.

a/n: i'm just gonna sit back and pretend this didn't give me chills. thinking of turning this into a series, but i'll hold myself from now haha

"Go to prom with me." It's not what you'd expect to hear on a Tuesday morning, right after a wearing History class. Even more so coming from the mouth of no other than Gojo Satoru, the coolest, most desired boy in school.

Yes, you've been friends with him for almost a year. And yes, you get on very well together, crack some side-jokes at classes, sometimes go out to grab some food, do homework at the library, and even stay up at night until sunrise on the phone, freaking out while studying for a math exam that none of you knew about it — or not paying attention, to be more honest. 

So yeah, you're friends. But it's Gojo Satoru we're talking about. And Gojo Satoru is just way out of anyone's league.

You're simply dumbfounded.

"I—" You swallow hard, feeling like you just lost your memory and no longer know how to complete sentences. You're feeling a lot of things, honestly, the guy you've had so many daydreams with saying he wants to have you as his partner, and there you are, a pile of nerves trying to hide the hard, loud way your heart beats inside.

And it's not that you don't want to accept it. Heck, you want to say yes so badly, how many times did you catch yourself watching those sappy rom coms and wondering if you and the white-haired boy would make a fine couple like that. He's the whole package, and if those gorgeous blue eyes and jaw-dropping looks weren't enough, he's also so kind to you, that you can't help but develop a crush.

But as expected, he didn't catch only your attention, but the whole school as well. Kaya Nami, one of the troublemaker cheerleaders, is in the line and does everything she can to make sure nothing gets in her way.

"If I were you, I'd stay away from Satoru Gojo. You won't like having me as an enemy, believe me." She threatened you last Friday, right during PE class. Confused wasn't enough to describe how you felt, but you didn't say anything back to not cause drama, only nodding and watching her head off like nothing happened.

"...I'm sorry, Satoru, but I can't." And unfortunately, that warning was enough to hinder you from making the choice you wanted.

It goes without saying how astounded Gojo was by your answer, that probably being his first time ever being rejected. "What do you mean 'you can't'?" And then his tone dropped an octave, changing to something more seething. "Did someone ask you? You said yesterday to me that you didn't get invited."

"And you're right, I didn't get it." You try to reason, not liking the way he's bothered by your rejection. " it's just... I didn't think you wanted to go with me!" And you didn't lie, even though you said it more as an excuse.

"Well, now you know." He gets closer, almost making you hit your back at the locker behind you. His eyes say he didn't buy any of your excuses. "So, why can't you go? I mean, I know how overwhelming my beauty can be, but you're just as pretty, sweetheart."

His mood suddenly changes to the usual Gojo Satoru, the cheeky guy who enjoys flustering you for fun. Grazing your chin between his index and thumb, he looks deep at you. "I'll give you the best time you ever had. Just be my date."

It takes everything on you to not jump in his arms and let yourself get swept off your feet. Why does he have to make this so difficult? Taking a deep breath, you remember the headache you're gonna get if you don't make the right choice. "Satoru, I'd love to be your date, really. It's just, I think there's someone else that would make a better date than me."

He stares at you with an unreadable expression. You don't know if he got angrier or had enough of your pitiful answers, but you wish you could be able to read only a fraction of Satoru's mind, cause he's staring for too long at you, and you don't know what else to say other than stare back at him.

Finally, he steps back, diverting his gaze to a random spot for a moment before moving to look at you again. Sliding his hands inside his pants pockets, he seems to accept the situation, but you're still not sure of what you see. "I guess you're not changing your mind, huh? Then tell me, who's this 'perfect match'  that you think would be better for me?" He questions with a hint of disdain, but he tries to hide it with a small side smile.

The girl appears in the scene before you can mention her name as if she was waiting for the right opportunity to pounce and make her move on him. By the way your shoulders slump and your eyes lower to the ground, he quickly assumes that she's the person you were talking about earlier and that for some reason, she's making you very uncomfortable. Not you nor Nami noticed the way Gojo glares at a blank spot. Thinking, he mindlessly accepts the blond girl's invitation to lunch, giving you a brief hug before going away. "If that's what you want." He whispers unexpectedly in your ear, offering you a final smile before letting himself be guided to the cafeteria.

You spend the rest of the day wanting to beat yourself for wasting the chance you had to go out with Satoru. You don't talk to him as much during the week, since Nami was making sure to grab every second of his free time at break. It didn't take too long to figure out that both of them would go to prom together, and even though you were the one who made that happen, it still stings to imagine them having a good time.

Prom day arrives, and in the end, no one invites you. It wasn't something completely unexpected, but to be honest, you were hoping that at least one of your friends would be kind enough to want you as a company just so you could all enjoy the "night to remember". Honestly, you didn't want to miss such an important event, and even though there was a chance that you'd make a fool of yourself, it's still your prom, and you have the right to make the most of it, with or without someone.

Kicking away the self-pity, you dressed up and got ready for the special night, wearing that beautiful gown that you remember once showing on Pinterest to Satoru, months before the event. Checking your purse one more time, you catch your phone to ask for a cab, when you hear three familiar knocks on your front door.

Opening your house, you come face to face with someone you never would've imagined seeing at that moment. There stood Gojo Satoru, with a black tuxedo that perfectly accentuates his body, a bouquet of pink camellias in his left hand, glasses off, and a beautiful lopsided smile.

"...Wow." The combo of his honest compliment, his lingering, fond gaze in your direction, and the fact that you made him momentarily speechless, makes your whole self overwhelmed with endearing sensations, especially your warm cheeks.

But that passes too quickly since you don't understand the sudden visit.

"S-Satoru? What are you doing here?" You didn't want this to be the first thing to say to him, but you're so confused, that you don't know what else to say. "I thought you were going out with Nami. Where is she?"

Awakening from the brief trance you provoked in him, the white-haired boy only increases his smile in a rather strange way. " Didn't you know? Mina got in an accident yesterday, she fell from the stairs and ended up breaking her leg."

One more time, you were taken by surprise. As for your friend, he doesn't sound as worried as you imagined he would be after giving this message, but he still makes a respectful pause after saying it.

Satoru also notices your reaction, observing the way you empathetic self got sad for that girl's situation. Little did you know that she got exactly what deserved. And if you looked more closely at your gift, instead of worrying yourself, you'd notice the blood stains around the wrapping paper, the remains of what your future partner did to prove his love.

To his luck, you're just too pure to realize what you don't need to. And for that, Satoru smiles, gazing at you with sparks again.

"So now, will you go to prom with me?"

Reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated 🦋

© asunflowerana 2024

[clrasecretdiary]

Why does she give a damn about me? | Spencer Reid x Reader

cutesy, cheesy fluff

In wich Spencer thinks reader is out of his league but she could not be more into him.

Content: Garcia is a queen as always, sunshine!reader

Warnings: Maybe some light lack of self steem from spence, but nothing crazy!!

He was used to it at this point. Being the weird kid in high school and college, Spencer never really expected anyone to be into him and, after being rejected a couple of times, he had practically closed himself off in that sense. But then, you came into the picture.

You are one of those girls that everyone seemed to gravitate toward, not only because of your beauty but because of your essence. You were genuinely kind, smart and good with people in a way he wished he was, maybe that’s why he was so drawn to you, you had all the qualities he wished he had and being close to you made him feel complete.

Needless to say that he was in love with you, it had started as an admiration and when he realized he was thinking about you all the time, but he was sure you would never be into guys like him, he was sure you’d never see him as more than friends.

–

You had joined the team a few years ago, you were excited to finally be doing what you really wanted when you joined the BAU, going out in the field and being on cases instead of just working a desk job all the time. When you first met the team, everyone seemed very welcoming but you felt yourself especially drawn to Spencer out of all people, at first he seemed distant but with time you noticed how sweet he was and how much he cared for everyone around him and god that man was so funny, you loved his weird science jokes and his magic tricks. How were you supposed to not fall in love with him? You asked yourself that question every time he brought you coffee in the morning or went on his rambles about some random thing.

After a particularly intense inquiry from a very drunk Garcia in one of the girls' nights she organized at her home, you told her your feelings for Reid and she made you swear you would act on it.

“Garcia, I'm not confessing. He's not into me like that, i’ll just ruin our friendship”

“Oh honey, he practically kisses the floor you walk in, he follows you around the office like a lost puppy and practically kills any officer that dares to be the tiniest bit mean to you. There’s no way he’s not into you, at least try pretty please” She says, doing puppy eyes at you. Garcia took her job as a cupid very seriously and was not going to let this be her first fail.

“Alright, i’ll try but if he ends up hating me you’ll have to bake me cookies everyday until i die” You say rolling your eyes and finishing your glass of wine.

“Ohhh i’ll be cooking cookies for you guys wedding!”

–

So, here you are holding his favorite order from the local coffee shop and gathering the courage to press the button to the elevator

“Hey are you fine?” A familiar voice calls you, when you turn around its spencer.. Great, guess you’ll have to do this right now

“Oh hi yeah, I was just um… meditating”

“Did you know meditanting has been proven to increase your memory and is also great for reducing anxiety. I really should start doing it, what method do you use?” Spencer says while pressing the button to the elevator

“Ummm breath in, breath out i think” You say, unsure how to respond

“That's actually one of the best ways as it oxygenates your brain and helps it work better, it can also help you feel more calm since deep breathing activates the parasympathetic nervous system that sends a signal to your brain to tell the anxious part that you're safe and don't need to use the fight, flight response” He says, doing the little smile and head nod thing he always does after info dumping.

You smile back at him, as you both enter the elevator and press the button to the BAU floor.

“I brought you something” You say, handing him the coffee shop bag

He opens it and smiles at you “I can’t believe you remembered my favorites, thank you so much” You love that smile so much, all you can think about is how perfect he is and how there’s no way you can continue on without dating this man.

“Actually, I need to tell you something spence… I was thinking, maybe we could go out together as like, a date or something” You say, already blushing from the embarrassment you felt and how scared you were that he did not reciprocate the feelings.

“Really? Of course i want, to be honest i’ve wanted to ask you to be honest but i thought you’d never see me like that”

“Are you kidding me spencer? I’ve had a crush on you since we first meet”

The elevator gets to the office, and you both walk in blushing and joking about how you two were so blind to each other's feelings. As you get in, garcia passes by you two stopping to stare

“There’s something happening here…” She says, pointing between you two and pressing her eyes together as if she’s profiling you two

“I asked him out”

“Oh my god finally, you see? I’m always right, I don’t even need to ask what he said, look at Reid, he’s glowing, ohh i’m so happy” She says, walking out to probably tell the news to everyone on the team.

[endless-ineffabilities]

DOLLFACE (18+) - Bucky x f!reader

your boyfriend devours.

masterlist

Your boyfriend likes it rough. He likes it quick and heated. In the back of a truck. In the movies. 3 am in the kitchen of the Avengers compound. He'd make you cum in 4 minutes, twice in 6.

But when you're off-mission and time is on your side, he takes his sweet, sweet time. He eats you out until your toes curl and you have to bite back a scream.

Bucky's nose is pressed against your clit, as you're perched at the edge of the minibar in your room. The pad of his tongue glides against the slick of your pussy, lapping at the juices that leak out of you.

"That good, baby?" He looks up at you, asking for approval. "Just beggin' to be fucked, aren't ya, dollface?"

"Yes, Buck – aghhh – " His tongue plunges in your aching hole and you forget how to form words. Your own tongue becomes tied in mewls and whimpers and sounds that would make a virgin weep.

His jaw is taut as he devours you, lips curling in a precum-covered smirk when he pulls back for a split second, only to eat you out again. Your fists bunch in his brown locks, pushing his face in, further, harder.

"Cum on me, doll," he pants. "Let me taste you, baby."

He continues to suck on your labia, soft kisses that make you want to cry. Too soft, too tender, and you would complain if he also didn't bury his vibranium fingers deep in your walls. You clench around the cold metal, your release just within reach.

Your legs begin to shake, your pelvis vibrating with those blissful tremors, and the heat builds and builds until you can't hold it in any longer. Bucky notices the switch – he always does – and he positions his tongue to receive what you surrender to him.

Lips parted, his breathing warm on your center, he lets you cum on his face. Milky, almost translucent droplets coat the tip of his nose and his swollen mouth and his chin.

He grins.

"I fucking love that," he says. "I love you."

He attacks your mouth with his, tangy from your substances. The hardness in his grey sweatpants presses against your core, a stain growing visible on the material due to his leaking tip. Your bottom half is already bare so you eagerly pull your shirt overhead. He hums in appreciation.

His blue eyes darken, his hands grope, but he is still – regrettably – fully clothed.

You pull at his tight black shirt, groaning in complaint.

"Take your damn clothes off," you plead. "Fuck me already."

"In a hurry? Are you forgetting something, dollface?"

You roll your eyes fondly. As if he needed a reminder of how crazy you are about him, but you are more than happy to oblige. "I love you too, James."

a/n: the gremlins in my mind won out, and so you have this. Okay, carry on. Dollface. 🍬

[ozziethegreat]

hue makes an appearance again.. if any of yall know me from tiktok and saw my first post about him ily

don’t mind me @toffeebrew @howlsofbloodhounds

Yapping below \/

So initially he didn’t have much of a story because I’m not very creative and I blank out whenever I try to make something original so yeah.

basically, if Color were ever to get error-d, I think he would be on a hike, probably in some random AU that had nice scenery or something. He’s wearing a rain jacket because it was raining at the place he was, and he he just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, and Error or some other entity was destroying it or something. As for how he got into the anti void,,, yall can use ur imagination 😭

(That’s the best explanation I can give, kill me)

I was more focused on the actual character than his backstory, so I’ll just explain my ideas of how he would act and such..

I called him Static Hue, or just Hue for short. (It’s a synonym of color I’m very creative guys)

I think whatever caused the error in his code amalgamated the human souls, and kind of made them fuse together, so Hue can never understand what they are saying because they speak over each other all the time. The different traits overlap and he feels mixed emotions all the time, along with intense mood swings and anxiety attacks. His flames also change color at a much faster rate, so people with epilepsy will stay FAR away from him 😭😭😭😭

Fun fact: he’s also blind. The only thing he can actually see is the color of his flames (which change all the time), and it tends to give him headaches and nausea. His grabblings are always out and just attached to his back so he can use them to move around.

As for the strings, they are very hot to the touch and leave burn marks on however he uses them on. They burn himself as well but he doesn’t pay any attention to it.

Hue’s memory is very jumbled, he didn’t necessarily forget about everything, but he doesn’t remember why exactly he does things. He knows he needs to help killer and protect him at all costs, but he isn’t sure why. He knows he hates Nightmare and REALLY wants that guy dead, but he doesn’t know where that hatred came from. And of course he naturally feels safer near the epic trio, and nervous staying in the same places for too long.

hue’s pretty obsessive over Killer for this reason. His need to help killer was multiplied by a gazillion, and he tends to just.. kidnap Killer and take him random places to keep him close. Sometimes he accidentally hurts him, but he doesn’t realize it, the only thing he can think about is keeping him safe and close to himself. On the contrary, he gets super aggressive and defensive at the mention of Nightmare, and if he were to see him face to face he would attack without hesitation. He knows his job is to keep Killer safe and away from Nightmare, and that’s really his only motive. He just doesn’t know where it came from.

Similarly to most errors, he has trouble speaking because of stuttering and glitches. He also can’t form very clear thoughts because the souls are constantly influencing his behavior. He has trouble explaining his thoughts and feelings, he tends to speak more in actions (as in he would crush you to death in a hug to show affection.)

anyway. If anyone wants to add onto this or share thoughts I’d appreciate it..

Here’s some older drawings of him LMAO

[beecauseevan]

first kiss in front of the team/at work!!

"You ready?" 

Eddie turns. He's been staring at the firehouse, but Buck is a much prettier sight, cast in gold by the morning sun filtering through the car windows.

"Ready? For work?" 

"Sure." Buck rolls his shoulders into the Jeep's driver's seat in a half shrug. "For work, and for—you know. Twenty-four hours is a long time."

Eddie leans against the door at his back, a smirk blooming on his face. "Is that a pickup line?"

"I don't have to use pickup lines on you," Buck tells him, but he's smirking too. "I picked you up a while ago."

Eddie hums.

"All I'm saying," Buck continues, "is that twenty-four hours… is a long time."

Eddie could keep playing hard to get. Taking the bait sounds more rewarding, though. He reaches for Buck, curls his fingers into the front of Buck's black t-shirt,  "Guess I better stock up on this while I still have the chance, huh?"

"I guess so," says Buck.

Eddie looks over his shoulder at the parking lot. It's empty, not a soul in sight.

"We're all alone," Buck mutters, voice softer than before, though the gleam in his eyes hasn't changed.

"All alone," Eddie agrees, and tugs him close.

They arrived in the parking lot half an hour early, but when they actually make it inside, their shift is about to start. That means the locker room is empty, which in turn doesn't mean much—the glass walls provide no privacy—but Buck is nothing if not bold.

"Stop," Eddie mutters, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, which hangs half-open from his shoulders. He doesn't have to glance up to know Buck is looking at him, can feel the weight of his gaze on the exposed skin of his chest. It makes him feel stupid, and tingly all over, and warm.

"I'm not doing anything," Buck replies, equally quiet, though the smile in his words is loud. 

"You're staring."

"I'm admiring."

And, honestly. Buck just spent four consecutive nights admiring every inch of Eddie's body. He should've looked his fill by now, but when Eddie finally meets his eyes, the hunger in Buck's smile is as obvious as it was this morning, yesterday, two weeks ago. Eddie shivers, glancing past Buck at the app bay to make sure nobody is watching them. 

What if they both took a sick day? What would Bobby say then?

He pulls himself together and slaps Buck's (gloriously naked) chest. "Get dressed."

"Yessir."

"Oh my god," says Eddie, and moves to the other side of the locker room before he forgets himself. 

And just in time, too. Hen knocks on the glass door, then sticks her head inside. "You guys coming?"

"Did the bell ring?" Buck asks, eyes wide. 

Hen narrows hers and looks from Buck to Eddie and back to Buck. "No. I think you would've heard that."

"Right," says Buck. "Sure. I wasn't distracted or anything."

Hen frowns at Eddie, clearly expecting him to know what is going on with Buck, and she's not wrong, but Eddie shrugs anyway, feigns ignorance. Hen sighs.

"Bobby made waffles," she says. "If you don't hurry up, I'm giving your share to Ravi."

The city keeps them busy, after that, provides them with a steady stream of fender benders and fires and the occasional cat stuck in a tree. By the time they get another moment to themselves, the sun is setting over the city and the station is awash in shades of crimson and gold.

Eddie is just stepping off the treadmill, sweaty and in dire need of a shower, when Buck joins him in the gym.

"Hey," Buck says. 

Just that. Just hey. He's smiling and his curls look soft in the afternoon sun, and Eddie wonders if this will ever stop being thrilling, if he'll ever be able to look at Buck without feeling like his chest is going to burst from all this love, if he'll ever be able to exist in Buck's presence without wanting, no, needing, to put his hands all over that glorious body.

"Hey yourself," he says, and Buck's smile widens, and he steps towards Eddie as if magnetized.

"I've missed you."

"You saw me ten minutes ago."

Buck shrugs. "You know what I mean."

Eddie does. He doesn't wish that he didn't. He likes knowing. 

"Sixteen hours," he says lowly, as Buck stops in front of him, just a few inches shy of appropriate—but then they've never needed much personal space when it came to each other. "Think you can manage?"

"Barely," Buck replies, before his smile sweetens. He looks down at his feet and Eddie looks down too, at Buck's hands, which are twitching at his sides as though they're desperate to reach out. "But, yeah. I'll manage."

Eddie nods. He drags his eyes back up and finds Buck watching him in return. He's so close Eddie can count his lashes, could trace the smile lines in the corners of his eyes.

"There you are." Chim strides into the gym and stops dead in his tracks, frowns at them, which may or may not have something to do with the fact that Eddie just jumped away from Buck like he's been stung. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Eddie says, too quickly.

Chim's frown deepens. Behind him, Hen appears on the scene of the crime, watching them over Chim's shoulder.

"If you guys are in some kind of trouble—"

And really, that's just uncalled for. Eddie opens his mouth and closes it again when he realizes he doesn't really have an excuse. Not for the first and probably not for the last time, Buck saves him.

"It's, uhm. Christopher's birthday party," he says. "We're—making plans."

Hen looks at Chim, who shakes his head.

"Chris' birthday is in March," she says.

"Well." Buck scratches the side of his neck. "Doesn't hurt to be prepared, right?"

He slides a pointed look Eddie's way, waiting for backup. Eddie opens his mouth.

It's new, still, this thing between them, new but not fragile. Three weeks ago, when their first kiss shattered every single one of Eddie's defenses, when he finally allowed himself a shot at true happiness, he warned Buck—told him that it would take him some time, that he would not be able to be Buck's plus one to a wedding any time soon.

Buck laughed at him, told him to stop worrying and we're not going to any weddings anyway, Eddie, unless you know something I don't, and kissed him again, and ever since then, he's been—patient, and careful, and wonderful, and everything Eddie could ask for and more.

He'd live like this, in secret, for another six years if Eddie asked it of him.

"Cause, you know," Buck continues, probably realizing that Eddie is too distracted to help him, and covering for him immediately, because he has his back even now. "Teenagers, they have—expectations. Right?"

"Right," says Eddie, and then he reaches out a hand and cups Buck's cheek and pulls him into a kiss, firm and sweet. When he breaks away, Buck is slack-jawed and glowing, and Eddie clears his throat and turns back to Chim and Hen, who are watching them with twin blank expressions. "Any more questions?"

"Huh," says Chim.

"Huh," adds Hen, and then, to Chim, "you owe me so much money. I knew it would happen before Christmas."

Chim groans loudly. Eddie leaves him to his misery and turns to Buck, who still looks stunned.

"Okay?" he asks quietly. He's lightheaded and giddy and so, so happy.

Buck's expression morphs into something different, something new, something that looks a lot like the inside of Eddie's chest feels—soft and warm and wonderful. "Okay. You?"

They have to talk to Bobby, and soon. Their future holds questions, of that Eddie is sure, and a lot of paperwork. He doesn't care about any of that right now.

"Never better," he says, and kisses Buck again.

[azsazz]

Over Ice (Part 3)

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: She’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!!

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3147

(Part 1) (Part 2)

_________________________________________

Rhysand’s face hurts.

His hands do, too, but the scrapes and splits in the skin of his knuckles have nothing on the cut in his lip, which currently stings from the rush of alcohol that passes over his lips.

It’s cold, crisp, and free, so it’s the best beer he’s had all night.

Hell, his cheek is bruised too. It’s not a Picasso of mottled yellows, greens, and purples yet—curtesy of the time he spent poking and prodding the knotted bump in one of the locker room mirrors, post shower.

The only thing that isn’t bruised is his ego because he more than won that fight against the Penguin’s center, Kallias Winterborough. He fucking wiped the ice with him and then proceeded to use the rest of his team to clean house.

Somewhere in the Hockey House—aptly named for the number of players that reside in the five-bedroom, two-story craftsman—you and his cousin meander around, violet Solo Cups in hand because the red ones are so overrated. Plus, one of their biggest rivals—the Foxes—wear crimson, and no one at Velaris University would ever be caught repping that team at one of his parties.

It's a move he’s regretting a little too much right now, unable to revel in the Bat’s big win with his lip split in two. Fucker got him good, he can admit, but never aloud. Cassian would never let him live it down and Azriel would shoot him a scathing glare at the mere mention of another school’s team under their roof.

Az takes his superstitions seriously.

“Rhys, dude.” Cassian stumbles in through the square arch connecting the spacious living room to the cozy kitchen. It’s the only thing Rhysand doesn’t like about the Hockey House: no open floorplan. That means, when he plays host as he so often does because he can’t afford a hangover from hell following most mornings, he can’t see what’s going on in the kitchen if he’s in the living room or vice versa.

He can’t see people sneaking up the stairs, and even though he keeps his room locked at all times following the Cassian Incident™ that included two leggy blondes and the Frozen Four first place trophy—announcing the next afternoon that blondes do, in fact, have more fun—he still doesn’t trust a horde of university students on a high from their win not to do anything stupid.

Speaking of stupid…Cassian slides to a halt beside him. He’s so eager to share whatever the hell with Rhys that he overshoots, slamming his hip into the counter. His friend howls, and much unto Rhys’ surprise, others join in, like it’s some kind of victory cry and not one that says ‘I just bashed my hip in, somebody help me, please.’

Rhysand is in no mood to help.

“What’s up, Cass?” Rhys sighs, frowning when he tips his bottle back to his mouth only to find it empty. He hadn’t realized how much he drank; thought he was nursing it with the way his lip burns.

Cassian’s face contorts from pain back to amused like a flick of a switch and the pain was long forgotten. His nose is permanently crooked from the number of times he’s broken it during fights both on and off the ice, and he’d be missing one of his pearly whites if he hadn’t just gotten it fixed earlier this week. Thankfully, his moustache has been shaved off for tonight, showing off his plump, pink lips. His brunet hair is the longest on the team, just brushing the tops of his massive shoulders, and thankfully. On one side, it’s tucked tightly behind his ear, showing off the gold ring he punched through it on a dare at their first party freshman year.

Cassian’s hazel eyes have a spark in them that 1: Rhys has seen too many times, and 2: never means anything good.

Rhysand narrows his own, breaking that eager contact to scour the kitchen for another beer because goddammit, he’s going to need it with the way his friend is all but shaking with excitement.

“Have you found your nurse yet?” Cassian asks, trailing him around the marble slab counter.

“My what?” Rhysand side-steps a couple making out so hard that they go crashing into the first thing that isn’t each other: the wall. The petite girl with bright blue hair whimpers loudly, and the noise is swallowed up by the guy that’s sticking his tongue straight down her windpipe.

It looks grosser than it seems, Rhys defends when a pang of want slaps him right in the chest.

“Your nurse, dude,” Cassian whines. He slips on a rogue wet patch on the obsidian floor tiles and now Rhysand has another thing to dislike in this house. All he needs is someone cracking their skull open on his kitchen floor or the couple to fall and have his teeth through her lips from the impact. “You know, cause you’re all injured.” He waves flippantly towards Rhysand’s wounds.

“I don’t need a nurse,” Rhys answers, confused. He pulls open the fridge and snags two beers off of the shelf Cassian and two of his other roommates have dedicated it to. He hands one to his friend, who pops the top off with his teeth, and Rhys raises an unimpressed brow. “I didn’t get that hurt.” Plus, he’s already been to see the team trainer for his shiners.

He busies himself with the beer opener that’s stuck to the side of the fridge, then grabs the roll of paper towels from their holder to wipe up the mess Cassian’s leaving footprints with. Well, he unrolls a few and tosses them onto the spill, anyway.

“No, I mean like a lady nurse.” Cassian waggles his brows. “Someone who can kiss you better, maybe even give you a hand—”

And, well, that might just help his mood.

“Hey.” Azriel breezes into the kitchen like he’s still on his skates. He has his own cup in hand, filled with water. Rhys know this because he’s never seen Azriel drink anything other than water and the occasional coffee. He takes his training more seriously than half of the team, which bodes well for Rhys because he always has a gym buddy, but sometimes, he wishes his friend would let loose, even if it meant seeing a girl. Or sleeping with one. “Heads up.”

The warning has Rhys standing straighter, ready to abandon his beer on the counter to play his role as captain and the one in charge of the party. His roommates naturally defer to him in house affairs because they’re used to it, but really, Rhys doesn’t have much more room in his packed schedule for warding off drunk students and stopping fights.

The last thing he needs tonight is to find himself in the middle of a fight.

“Rhys!” A perky blonde squeals, and his shoulders drop for a second only to tense right back up when his cousin throws herself into his arms.

He catches her with an oof, spitting out her wild locks that somehow always end up everywhere. He loves his cousin dearly, like a sister, but why is she here right now?

He doesn’t see you following your roommate into the kitchen, jaw slack like it’s been since you first saw the Hockey House lit up in all of its glory. The place is absolutely massive, it looks like it could rival one of the houses on Greek row.

The kitchen is moody yet warm. The dark tiles match the onyx-stained flat arch you just walked through. The lighter gray marble countertop brightens the room, and the deep blue cabinets paired with the soft lighting paints the room in perfect synchrony.

It’s absolutely stunning.

Neither of you see the other at first. Rhys because he’s still trying to blink Mor’s hair from his eyes and you because you’re entranced by the interior design of the home. There’s no way five boys could possibly live here, let alone five hockey players. It’s a bit of a mess with the party raging around you, yes, but you haven’t seen one hole in the drywall, not one forgotten dish nor a pair of boxers left of the bathroom floor—you checked.

Because you were using the restroom of course, you weren’t looking for that specific reason.

“Hey, Mor,” Rhys greets when she finally detaches herself from him. She doesn’t go far, only stepping back enough to introduce you to him. “What are you doing here?”

Violet eyes clash with yours, drawing your heart to a standstill. He looks just as good as he did when you were sprawled out on his chest: dark hair clean and mussed through, red lips parted as if the words he wants to say are stuck in his throat.

The only thing different about him now is that cut in his lip and the redness to his cheek from his fight on the ice that you bore witness to.

The memory replays in your mind again, awakening tingles in your body that shouldn’t be. And just how you’re praying for them not to, they converge right between your thighs, settling in nice and hot and begging for attention as the sight of him with burning violet eyes as he decks his opposition across the jaw replays.

It really shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, and he himself shouldn’t be as hot as he is, either.

You hold yourself still, focusing eighty percent on your attention on trying to calm your eager bits down and the other twenty percent on making sure you don’t look constipated while doing so.

Rhys blinks at you and you return his blank stare, watching, waiting to see if he recognizes you, too.

Oh, he does.

“We came to see your game tonight,” she says, as if it isn’t obvious from your attire. The attire that Rhys is currently dragging his eyes down, drinking in every inch—all four of them—of the jersey your roommate forced you into tonight. You watch his eyes flare as he reads the number across your chest. His number, you’re just now realizing.

Heat floods your cheeks but you’re unable to bolt like you so desperately want to. Your heart is beating three times as fast in your chest as he slowly, slowly, rakes his gaze up from your legs that are glued to the floor, all the way to your eyes, that are glued to his face.

“This is (Y/N),” Mor announces, gesturing to you with a flourish. When you make no move forward to greet them, her red nails curl around the hem of your jersey and yank.

You stumble forward, and the trance is broken. Unfortunately, so is your face, because you slip in something on the tiles and are plummeting face-first into the ground. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, lips parted to scream or groan, whichever your mind catches up to first—

The impact never comes. Strong hands grip your arms, stopping you from eating tile. You’re too stunned to speak, even when you’re planted back on your feet and staring into the chest you were lying on only this afternoon.

Rhysand Cunningham.

Jesus, you’re really going to have to stop saying his full name like that. It’s creepy.

“Easy now,” Rhys says, making sure you’re steady. You somehow find the courage to look him in the eyes, hastily tamping down the mortification that threatens to consume you.

As soon as your eyes lock, it’s like magic.

There’s no other way to describe whatever is happening between the two of you right now. His light touch is searing, and so are his eyes as he scans your face, making sure you’re not hurt.

Rhys’ abandoned beer sits precariously close to the edge of the counter, and Cassian accidentally knocks it off with his elbow when he dodges a playful swat Mor tosses his way. It goes crashing to the floor, startling you and Rhys from your trance.

You jump, gaze following the noise. Rhys’ hands slip from your body and you shiver at the cold that replaces him, even though it’s stifling in this house with the number of bodies packed into it. You manage one large step back that he doesn’t seem to notice because he’s already snatching the paper towels from where he put them last and barking at passerby to “be fucking careful.”

“I, uh,” you stutter, and holyfuckingshit, he’s leaning over to clean up the mess. You get a full view of that toned ass; despite the jeans he’s wearing. It’s perfect, round like an apple, juicy like one too, you bet. The sudden urge to lean over and sink your teeth into it hits you like a semi— “I need to use the bathroom.”

You scurry away from your roommate and her cousin like it’s your ass that’s just been bitten into.

Rhys grumbles the entire time he cleans up the spilt beer. Cassian tried to help, his chocolate eyes wide and sad, spouting off apologies like he did something much worse than break a fucking bottle, but hissed when he cut his thumb on a sharp edge. Rhys had pushed him away from the scene immediately after that.

He wonders if Cassian is going to bound off into the living room and find himself a nurse of his own, now.

“Hey, where did your friend go?” Rhys asks Mor who’s chewing on a cherry stem. He grimaces, not even knowing where those came from.

“Roommate,” Mor answers pointedly, serving him a harsh look that only confuses the hockey player.

“Okay…where did your roommate go?” He clarifies, eyes sweeping the room for you. Disappointment prickles at his skin just as much as the look his cousin is shooting him. He’d gotten his look at you alright, but he’s suddenly feeling like the single up-down he gave you was not nearly enough.

“To the bathroom,” she answers, rounding the counter, eyeing all of the opened bottles of liquor on top. She must not see anything she likes, because he doesn’t reach for anything. “Why?”

Why? Because you brought her here and I want to be nice? Rhys thinks. I want to get to know her, maybe somewhere private—

“I didn’t really get to introduce myself.” Is what he goes with.

Mor snorts, rolling her eyes because she is not falling for that one. “She’s off limits.”

“Then why did you bring her here?” Rhys blurts, unable to stifle the words before they slip out. Damn beer.

“Because we wanted to see your game,” Mor replies, watching her cousin closely.

If you wanted to see my game, you shouldn’t have warned me against your roommate, he thinks, and then cringes.

“Well, thanks for coming, cuz,” he offers, because there’s no good rhyme or reason to start arguing with her. Especially when both of their parents are just phone calls away.

He’d rather be getting the third degree from Mor than his mother, anyway.

Rhys swiftly changes the subject. “Hope you enjoyed me kicking some ass.”

Mor’s tight face melts into amusement. She laughs, tossing her head back on her shoulders. “Yeah, I really did enjoy that, actually.”

It’s at that exact moment that Rhys catches sight of you again. You’re caught halfway in the archway of the kitchen, presumably on your way back from the bathroom. Your lips are pulled into a smile as you giggle, and he wishes he could hear it over the gods-awful music. Your eyes are bright and he watches you brush a strand of hair behind your ear, cheeks pinkening with a blush that makes him wonder just who’s putting that look on your face.

Rhys takes one step to the left and his entire body begins boiling with heat when he catches sight of one of his players speaking to you.

If she’s off limits to me, then my players are off limits to her.

And that’s exactly what they are, too, players. Mor’s right, he can’t end up letting one of his teammates fuck around with you, not when you’re so close to his cousin. She’d be devastated if you got hurt, and fuck it, he would too. He’d kill one of his guys if they broke your heart.

Rhys doesn’t talk sense into himself as he stalks your way, doesn’t think about the repercussions or his actions when he slides up to your side, all rigid muscles and sharp looks.

“What do we have here?” he asks, drawing you away from the friendly conversation you were having with the handsome hockey player about the types of tapes and casts that can be used when treating different injuries.

It’s James Attor, from your Athletic Training Techniques class. You’d recognized him, but didn’t know he played for the Velaris hockey team. He’s a sophomore like you, and more interested in the injuries part of his sport than the actual scoring.

“Oh, hey, Cap,” James greets, shrinking under the scrutinizing gaze of his team leader. He knows that look, it’s the one Rhys gets before he’s about to lose his mind on the ice. “I was just talking to (Y/N) about—”

“About nothing,” Rhys finishes for him, and you frown. What the hell is his problem?

“James, wait,” you call, but it’s too late, he’s already slipped into the crowd of people dancing in the middle of the living room, and you don’t have supervision to see through them.

Whirling around on your heel, you glare up at Rhys. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Rhys asks, striding back towards the kitchen. You decide that playing stupid doesn’t look good on him. And neither does that split lip.

You can’t believe you wanted to get closer. For a better look at his wounds, of course.

“That!” You exclaim, throwing your arm out and pointing where you were just standing. It serves no purpose because Rhys isn’t facing you, which only stokes your anger further. “I was talking to him!”

“Yeah,” he rounds on his feet so fast you don’t even see it coming and for the second time today, you run smack dab into the middle of his chest.

This time, you don’t tumble into a pile of limbs.

You blink, dumbfounded.

“And I’d prefer it if you don’t,” Rhys finishes, chest tight. He feels on edge at the way your body pressed up against his, like lightning in his veins. He grits his teeth, willing the feeling to go away.

“Yeah,” you scoff, tossing him your best glare. You cross your arms over your chest for effect, but all it does is make that skimpy shirt you’re wearing ride up more, and both Rhys’ eyes and throat catch at the sight of your creamy skin. Your word sounds like a threat when you say, “Unlikely.”

_________________________________________

Over Ice Taglist:

@saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @mrsjna @velarisdusk @bionic-donut @tenshis-cake @eleganttravelercloud @lilah-asteria @serena05 @bwormie @soph1644 @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125 @judig92 @se7enteen--black-blog @thecraziestcrayon @cherry-cin @itsinherited @justafictionalnerd

[bomber-grl]

Deku Dating hc!! ୨ৎ

Pairing(s): Izuku Midoriya x Gn!Reader

Creds ~ first divider: @/khaer 2nd divider: @/strangergraphics-archive Art: @/xuune/kaiihuna or @/_kaiihua on twt

HE IS SO FLUSTERED OMG

Not even an exaggeration, the moment you confessed it was like blud went into cardiac arrest

Once he regained his wits he reciprocated your feelings all in a couple of stutters and accidental muttering

How charming

All sarcasm aside, it really is endearing

Yknow how most of the people in class 1-A are unnecessarily weirded out by his muttering

Plus how Deku is more often than not, called names by his own fandom 💀

Well he thinks that way about himself too

Sure you get along more than just fine but seeing him apologize for being more than a little nerdy is shocking to say the least

I mean if anything his “weird” and nerdy self is literally part of his charm and you make this known

Reread that first bullet point for a hint to how he reacted to you telling him that

Anyway

It’s likely you guys met at UA

I mean it’s where he’s made the most friends at (if any) and the only reason he talked to you was either it was inevitable or he absolutely fan boy-ed over your quirk

If you guys had some sort of romantic connotation and you had to fight against each other in the sports festival he’d be pretty conflicted

Although, you’d probably not want him to hold back

If anything he’s just sorry about the whole ordeal 😭

As a boyfriend Deku is shy(?)

I mean just look at how he reacted to technically a none romantic gesture and just interaction - he’s definitely going to be flustered for the majority of you two hanging out

Overall he’s really sweet

Like genuinely it’s surprising that he’s never actually been with someone in a real relationship before

If you disagree… look at him in the beginning of the anime 😭💀)

At most he was probably jokingly asked out or asked out on a dare in the past

I do think that hero life would sort of interfere with romantic relations for you both(assuming ur attending UA)

So there’s times where meeting up or just hanging out would be difficult

But when you two can hang out- it’s really nice

You’re either going to fast food restaurants, going shopping or doing anything really-

These outings are similar in the fact that they all often end in you both fighting some villian 😭

There is this one instance where before the dorms were introduced- you and Izuku had stayed to train or clean- whatever it was at school

He got a call from inko and upon finding out you (someone he does nothing but yap about to her) were around, well, she figured she’d invite you for dinner

Queue you finally meeting Inko and if you’re nervous and want to get a gift of some kind Izuku is kind of laughing but also happy that you want to “impress” her

Even though she loves you already

When you meet inko, she’s is buzzing with as much nervous energy as Izuku is

Funny how similar they are

The dinner goes smoothly and if anything she just approves of you more

Now eventually dorms get introduced and so does sneaking around

Don’t tell me no one in class 1-a wouldn’t sneak around- they’re high schoolers and you can’t tell me they wouldn’t just want to have stereotypical sleepovers

Among those who would sneak around is you

Izuku is less likely to because he’s a bit shy and if he’s ever caught- God kill him now 😭

So ofc you end up sneaking to his room

Which sorta backfires because he loves all might and all might is just staring at you in every direction you look.

The merch is just too excessive

Even then, a sleepover is too much for him and in Izuku fashion- he gets flustered

It takes awhile for him to chill 😭

Holding hands? In the hall way?

If you manage to hold hands for 5 seconds before Iida or Bakugo mention it then you’ve got a personal best!

(Iida because he says no PDA, and bakugo cuz him and his big ass mouth always got something to say)

——————

A/n: hope u liked! ^^

[theyluvkarolina]

𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒅 𝒌𝒊𝒅𝒔 ‧₊˚⭑

masterlist / rules / requests & talks with me!

‧₊˚🖇️⭑ “ 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕’𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒅!! 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒈𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒗𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒎!! ” ⊹ ‧₊˚

𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 ‧₊˚ Everyone loves F1 drivers with kids. Along with kids loving F1 drivers… but what about F1 drivers finally achieving what many others would dream of? Having a family.

🗣️ ‧₊˚ all oc’s/mood boards created are mine! more will be added with due time if wanted.

📝 ‧₊˚ last updated : 9/25/24

𝐌𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝒄𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒂 “𝒔𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒆” 𝒑𝒊𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒊 ‧₊˚⭑

⭑ 𝐏𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐜

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ‧₊˚ Oscar doesn’t mean to come off as a panicking first time father, but his little one is his whole world! How will that anxiety crawl up when and boil over when it’s her first Grand Prix?

⭑ 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ‧₊˚ Oscar’s daughter has favorites. And sadly, he isn’t one of hers, in fact her favorite happens to be her favorite American, Logan. He says it’s fine and that he doesn’t care… but actions speak louder than words.

⭑ 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ‧₊˚ Oscar assures he has everything under control when you go out for a girls night and is left to watch your guys’ daughter. But Sadie constantly proves him wrong.

⭑ 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐬

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ‧₊˚ it was a rough weekend to say the least. Sadie's first tennis tournament didn't exactly go as planned in her mind. how does oscar handle his little girl being to down with herself?

??? 𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒔 ‧₊˚⭑

⭑

𝐒𝐂𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐈

𝒏𝒐𝒆𝒎𝒊é 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒄 ‧₊˚⭑

⭑ 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐢-𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ‧₊˚ Charles loves his new little family. Especially his little girl and he won’t go anywhere without her. Even for interviews.

⭑ 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐔𝐬

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ‧₊˚ Being on a work trip for 4 days leaves Charles to take care of your little girl. He assumed everything will be just fine only to be proven wrong with having to balance both F1 and being a father. On a race weekend at that.

⭑ 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐥 (semi-canon fic!)

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ‧₊˚ A day in the Leclerc home is never quiet. Cause of noise this day? Charles’s screams of horror when his boys don’t support Ferrari. And the biggest blow? They support Redbull and Mclaren

𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒐 𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒛 ‧₊˚⭑

⭑

𝑹𝑬𝑫𝑩𝑼𝑳𝑳 𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑰𝑵𝑮

??? 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏

⭑

𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐌𝐆

??? 𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒍

⭑

??? 𝒉𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒕𝒐𝒏 (𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒃𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒅!)

⭑

𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝟏

𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒐

⭑ 𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ‧₊˚ Being a father was everything Fernando wanted on top of his racing career, but his age causes concerns. But your there to lift his spirits. Along with some reminiscing before a bittersweet day.

⭑ 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐎𝐮𝐭

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ‧₊˚ If anything, Fernando wants his private life to remain private, but the constant questioning of you in the garage raises eyebrows and speculation. And one post confirming everything sends fans into a frenzy.

⭑ 𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐄𝐲𝐞

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ‧₊˚ Fernando loves his little girl. and he isn’t afraid to show that. from her first time in the garage, to her first ever football game. Best of all? Everyone loves girl-dad fernando!!

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 ‧₊˚⭑

⭑ you can find all headcanons are asks under the Grid Kids tag <3

[seungkwanniee]

pairings : nonidol!seveteen x gn!reader

genere : fluff , angst ( minghao one )

warnings : little made fun of (jun) , panic attack but not at all (wonwoo)

synopsis : seventeen as love trope imo !

an : don't know when this is coming out but, -3 for bald Jeonghan. They are so fucking long that maybe i shouldve writed a whole series and not this but anyway

〔masterlist〕

SCOUPS 』

age gap , age ain't nothing but a number

He loves having someone on his knees no matter what, and we know younger people are more easy to manipulate but i mean it in a good way. Seungcheol would love have you wrapped around his fingers, have you doing all that just for him make him istantly happy, it fills his chest with love. But he would prefer way more to spoil you with gift, love and money. You need money? he is already putting them in your bra. You wanted that cloth? it's already yours. He likes have you wrapped around his arms that are way bigger than your whole body. Loves the height gap, so he can lay his chin on top of your head and wrap your neck with his arm. He could care less when someone points out the age gap, he loves you no matter what.

JEONGHAN 』

unreachable love interest , talking to you means a lot to me

Jeonghan is that one popular guy that everyone is in love with, so it feels like he is unreachable. He looks like an angel and seems also so sweet and caring but at the same time interesting to be around. You was only one of those people that is blinded by his beauty, why he would even notice you and your odd interest? He never showed love interest on anyone and never dated someone, he was a little bit cold, you were being just delulu right? It was so surprining for everyone when one day his steps weren't the same as he does everyday to walk into his class: he was getting closer to you, he was going trowards you. Your heart was beating so fast that you thought everyone could hear that, while your face was already red just by looking closely to his face. This unreachable angel was talking to you?

JOSHUA 』

slow burn , a lot can happen in 6 months but didn't expected this

At frist, when your friend introduced you two, you didn't minded about him too much. Sure, he was looking pretty and his behavior during the whole hangout was so gentle with everyone, but slowly he became part of your daily routine. He got involved in your group of friends more, so you automatically spent more time with him and became good friends. He was always caring, helping you to go down or upstairs, sometimes playing your food, fixing you hair etc... be he was like that with everyone, there was no purpose below. But when your heart starts flutter when he meet your eyes, you know something was changing. You no longer see his action innocently, you everytime internally begged him to make one more move, more closer to you, more intimate. Your skin pratically craving for his touch was everything you needed. Who thought that this could happen in six months?

JUN 』

the quiet ( and smart ) boy , I was quiet but not blind

Jun was the quiet, and maybe weird, guy everyone got in their class. He never talked to anyone, and no one ever spoke to him. Jun was smart enough to know that that class was a herd of kids who followed the crowd and he didn't want to be one of them, his few friends were already enough for him. As I mentioned, Jun was a smart ass boy, he noticed one girl in particular. He didn't liked her in that way, she just was the one he hated the less. His classmates didn't mind when he could hear the non-pleasant things they were saying about him, every single one said something except her. Rather, he had heard her complaining with her friends their behavior, sometimes he could ever hear the sound of a little slap, maybe in the head, after their words. During class, often you eyes land on him, his head almost always lowered to the desk writing something with his relaxed form but today something was different. His legs shaking up and down while his hand was playing with the pen that was supposted to write down the paper. when a "you are too smart to be friend with them" paper landed on you desk at the end of the class, you got everything, as if your vision was no longer blurred thanks to a stupid note.

HOSHI 』

childhood friends , it's always been you

Soonyoung was laying between your arms, while his eyes were red and puffed because of previous tears. You always warned him about the girl he was dating until few hours ago: she never liked you and you never liked her. You never knew why she didn't liked you, just because you were Soonyoung bestfriend was a stupid reason. Btw, you had a strong reason to not like her, a red flag swinging right in front of you bestfriend face that the decided to completely ignore. You always knew she was going to cheat, she did before nothing was stopping her just because he was Soonyoung. You stayed beside him the whole time, he needed to heal from this harsh breakup, but this made things change with the time. You noticed how he was more caring now, he always been but you felt something was off for sure. At one point it seemed like you was the one that needed to be healed, not him anymore. But he considered you like her sister until few months ago, what happened now?

WONWOO 』

fake dating , I like you more than I planned

When you told about this to him, all he could do was be shocked, and you kinda understand him. When your friends comes to you and tell you to pretend to be a coupla at a wedding it was pretty weird, no? Plus, Wonwoo is so shy and reserved, but it was the best choice you could come with. You hated all the invadent questions they ask, the last time they almost made you have a panick attack so you wasn't planning to go throught that hell once again. When you were standing beside him, he had his arms wrapped around your waist. Occasionally, he would also wrap you shoulder, adjust your hair or wipe your mouth from the crumbles. You would notice how his ears go bright red when his hands lays on your body, or how his hands were slightly trembling. You wanted to make fun of him, but you were exactly like him if not worst. He almost choke when one of your aunts ask you two a kiss, you would pat his back trying to keep him alive while with trembling voice explained how shy you are to do pda in public.

WOOZI 』

enemies to lovers , are you flirting or starting a fight?

when you hear that your partner project is Lee Jihoon, you just want to let out hundred curses. This was an important work project, almost depending your future and they paired you with the person for which you have hatred. At the start, you two only warned the eachother how important the project was and reiterated your mutual hatred, for what is still unknown and we'll never know because you two actually started to get along very well. It was the most unexpected thing for your coworkes see you talking like normal human being, working like you never hated eachother, how you two seemed almost like the realest bestfriends. From now on, you two enjoyed the each other comfort company and used the extra hour to stay toghether. Everyone already knew how you two will be lovers one day.

DOKYEOM 』

grumpy x sunshine , I loved you so hard that I softned

You don't know if adopt the cat you have now it was the best decision ever. It didn't fall in love with you, but with your neighborhood and you two aren't even friends. Your cat would sneak out in the most weird possibile way even figuring out how to open the balcony window and jump on the near balcony. You were so embarassed to knock at his door and explain that the cat that jumped on his apartment was yours. Maybe it was annoying him, maybe he was that kinda of grumpy neighborhood (spoiler: you were) and will yell at you. But when the door opens, you find the exactly opposite in front of your eyes. He was tall but his face looked so bright, you don't even know how to explain it but it was like that. Your little black cat was laying so comfortable in his way more bigger hands that it almost didn't wanted to come with you again. You regretted how cold you were with him, but you never saw him and it will continue like that, you tought. Never been so wrong: apparently your cat loved soo much Seokmin that now it almost live at his instead of yours. You were grateful that he wasn't annoyed by that, he was a little sunshine, but instead it was bothering you. You never liked having convo with new people, and your cat was pratically forcing you to do that. You even tought to give it to him forever just to avoid his attempt of conversation, or his invites you to come into his apartment and eat something together. But at the end, you will be always grateful to your cat that letted you met your now boyfriend.

MINGYU 』

soulmates , I meet another me inside of you

It was so shocking when you met him and discovered that you two have almost the same tatoo, it was like you two were made for eachother. It was a silly one, with no meaning behind it at all and this made the thing seem even more on propuse. The thing you two didn't knew it was that you were meant to meet and never leaving eachother side ever. The stage of being friends it never actually exsisted in your relationship, catching feelings was so fast and never been so easly that you almost thought that everything was just a fever dream, it wasn't actually real, so unreal in your head but it was like that. You have you boyfriend by your side everytime you need to, he loves you with all his heart and actually got another matching tatoo.

MINGHAO 』

forbidden love , in another life

when Minghao's family dicovered that his girlfriend wasn't chinese as him, they were disappointed from the start. They were a traditional family, and Mingaho knew that, but his heart choosed her and he can't help it. She doesn't even looked like a foreigner, at some point you spoke chinese better than him. He knew that they wouldn't like her at the start, thats why he went slow with them, but he never thought they would overreact so badly. His own mother didn't even talked to him for the frist weeks, letting him guess how disappointed and upset he was. His face was full of surprise when suddently they asked for a dinner togheter, they wanted to get to know her but all of the sudden looked a little bit of on his eyes. He putted aside his thoughts, he was so happy and excited when he got that his family was starting to soften about his relationship with a foreigner. He never regretted a decision more, they made you come for what? to embarass you, bring you down and made you feel not enough for him. He got so upset for you, he was blaming himself and apologize in his knees, you didn't deserved that and decide that you two should go in separate path.

SEUNGKWAN 』

insicure / unexpected love , & then I met you

Seungkwan always been the insicure guy: he thought no one would ever love him romatically, he was more like the class clown and only seem like a friend to the girls. He wasn't handsome, he wasn't the popular guy becayse of his look, he was only popular for his funny personality, sometimes he would even embarass himself in front of everyone just to make his classroom laugh. He never shows how this topic upset him, gotta always fake a smile and pretend nothing, but deep down himself he is almost sure no one will ever love him but also he will never be capable to love someone. He is scared and unexperienced: he can surely make someone laugh, but he can love? he can give the attention his future lover needs? he can make the person feel loved as he deresved? He was sure he was impeded in love, until you came in his life. You was the unexpected love of his life, and learned how he was really good at loving, giving attention and those things. When you frist you went to him, he thought it was a joke, someone better reveal the cameras and stop it because it wasn't funny, he would be so upset for his whole life for be made fun of. But you was dead serious, you didn't seen him like the weird funny and class clown, you saw deep down in his soul and it was so pretty, unique and majestic.

VERNON 』

innocent crush , I wonder how I look from my crush's pov

He may be the cold and dead serious guy, the one that never show interest on nothing, much less for a girl. But when he revealed his crush on you to his friends, even them were shocked. And now, forget everything about the cold guy you always knew, he become so awkward around you from now on. He always tries to get your attention, but in the end he just looks goofy and silly. Seungkwan and Dino not helping him at all too as they just look way goofier than him or just make him in weird situation. Like that one time where they made fall his whole lunch in front of you, but that just got an interaction between you two so a win is a win. But I feel like this would just be a school crush, and you two will never ending up toghter.

DINO 』

second chance love , I will always choose you

When you met those familiar eyes one again, after almost a year you two lost contact, you got it wasn't never with that boy you hardly fell in love. It was so crowded down the streets, when you stopped for few seconds because of the shock, you already lost the sight of your friends. You quickly flutter your eyes when he moves slight trowards you, not because he wanted to, but because one his friend just bumped into him. He looks at him dumbfounded because hell, there wasn't almost space to even breath why he was just staning in the middle of nothing looking straight like an idiot but he quickly relized when he looks straight too. Dino never shutted up about you, not even when you two broke up because of his dumbness, and his friends needed to hear him yap about you for so long. They even tried to pair him someone else, thinking he was just stuck and needed a push to go out of this never ending situation but every single dated ended up by the girl being bored about him yapping about the same thing or better, a person. They always thought he was overreacting but well, they got everything just by looking on his eyes.

[peppermintquartz]

It's a somber mood in the car as Buck drives home with his boyfriend. They'd been in high spirits too, helping Eddie set up the decorations and encouraging him when he was feeling a little uncertain about the surprise.

Now Buck wishes he hadn't been there to see the way Chris blew off his dad. The pain in Eddie's entire being was broadcast loudly, even if Eddie merely shut the video call down and then grabbed himself a beer afterwards. Tommy went after Eddie and Buck saw them talking in low voices for a bit, and he hopes that Tommy helped, because Buck was - still is - at a loss of words.

It's hard not to feel protective of Eddie, but it's also difficult because it's Christopher inflicting this hurt, and Buck isn't sure how to feel.

"Hey. We tried. Eddie tried. It just wasn't time yet," Tommy ventures, reaching across the console to pat Buck's knee.

Buck sighs. "It's just... It's Chris. Ball of sunshine, always positive, a complete sweetheart Christopher Diaz. I think about that kid and I think about the boy on the screen just now and. They're not the same person."

"Or maybe," Tommy says gently, his big hand still on Buck's thigh, "he's a teenager who is going through a very difficult emotional time and also some challenging physical changes."

"That what you told Eddie?"

"No, I told him that even if Chris isn't receptive now, he'll remember that Eddie tried, and when Chris is feeling less resentful and more forgiving, this will be an important moment." Tommy exhales slowly. "I mean, what I would have given if my father tried half as much as Eddie does to be a good dad."

Buck keeps his eyes on the road. Tommy's wistful tone reminds him that, of the three of them, Tommy is the only one who goes no-contact with his father. Buck hasn't pried. He wants Tommy to share of his own volition.

"I'm glad you were there for Eddie just now," he says instead, because it's true.

Tommy squeezes Buck's thigh gently. "He's my friend too. You know, he can have more than one friend."

"Yeah, some dork with terrible fake mouth static told me that once."

"Medal-worthy fake mouth static, thank you very much."

Buck has to chuckle at that. At the next red light, he picks up Tommy's hand and kisses the knuckles, before looking at his boyfriend straight in the eyes. "You're the best boyfriend."

"Baby, I'm your first boyfriend," Tommy says, eyes crinkling in the corners. "No competition."

Buck is going to retort when the car behind them blasts their horn. With a snort, Buck gets back to driving. "What, you want there to be competition? Not happy to be the first?"

Tommy is silent, but there's a quirk to his lips when Buck steals a glance at him.

"What?" Buck presses.

"Well, I was gonna say something like, no, I want to be the first and the last, but that might be too much." He sounds a little nervous.

There's a little flip in Buck's belly that tells him that, even if it is too much, he kinda likes it. He smiles and takes Tommy's hand, squeezes. "A bit much right now, yeah. But I'm... not opposed to the idea."

Tommy turns his hand over and intertwines their fingers. "Good. That's good."

--

now on AO3

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

"Bite Me" - Alastor x Reader - Part 2

prev

You....really shouldn't have bitten Alastor.

It was a threat, yep, and the guy did need to learn his actions had consequences, but...er. Was that really worth this?

The Radio Demon had practically been your shadow for the past week. His expression never changed, his tone never shifted. You were like, 90 percent sure he was thinking of the best way to kill you for maximum pain.

Pain wasn't good. You were allergic to it.

...That line usually got a chuckle out of whoever heard it, or in your case, whenever you thought it. However, this time, it didn't quite tickle your funny bone as it usually did.

Because Alastor was standing right there.

And staring at you.

In your goddam bedroom.

"....Hi." You said, chewing on your bottom lip.

Alastor's gaze darted for a second to your lip, then back to your eyes. And he said nothing.

"...Did you need something?" You said.

He continued to stare at you, unblinking.

You sighed "Listen, if you're going to kill me can you just hurry up already? I'm sure it beats how awkward this is."

Other than the slightest twitch of an ear, he still didn't respond.

You huffed, narrowing your eyes as a growl permeated through the air. "At least say something!"

He didn't.

"OKay, fine!" You snapped, throwing your hands up in the air. You crossed them over your chest with a pout, giving Alastor a mean side-eye. "Keep standing there doing nothing. I guess I could use a new hat rack anyway."

"...You don't have any hats?" He said, tilting his head to one side.

"I'll get some so I can justify having a hat rack." You said, tail flicking.

"Mhm... So, how sincere is this threat?"

"What?"

Alastor straightened his posture, taking a couple long strides to stand right at your bedside. "You make a lot of threats, my dear. And I've only ever seen you carry 1 out."

"Usually people listen to me." You said, rolling your eyes.

"So you've never actually follow through before?" He tilted his head to the opposite side than before. His grin seemed to stretched a bit, ears becoming less stiff.

"Does that make you happy?" You said, turning to face him "That you're the first idiot who made me actually do something?"

From how he practically beamed you can only assume it did. You sighed, flopping down onto the bed on your side. The intent was to ignore him until he got bored and went away or got sick of you and killed you.

Instead you found a shadowy tendril wrapping around your middle, rolling you onto your back. Alastor grinned down at you, his body a perfect 90-degree angle bent at the waist.

"I'm the first one you've bit?"

"...Yeah?" You said, raising an eyebrow. "I mean. I think I bit people when I was little and pretending I had rabies, but not really intending to hurt them..."

His grin widened. "How did I taste?"

...

"What."

"I want to know. How did I taste?"

Oh right he was a cannibal. You grimaced internally. Was that just something cannibals got giddy about? 'Hey I'm the first person you've eaten hurrah!'

The tendril around you gave a firm squeeze. You sighed and met Alastor's crimson eyes, giving him a flat look of your own.

"Dry and tough- like badly made jerky."

He laughed. "Well, of course! You bit into my jacket! Silly creature, you."

"....Well, you asked."

"That I did, that I did." Alastor hummed. He tilted his head too far to one side, leaning in closer to you "Would you care for a taste without my jacket?"

"No." You responded curtly.

The silence was palpable. Neither of you broke eye contact or changed your expressions for several moments. Those moments seemed very, very long.

His eye slowly twitched up and his ears dropped ever-so-slighty-

"Hm. Well, it's not like you'd manage that anyway."

"Probably not. Are we done?"

Another beat of silence passed before the shadows tendril dissolved into mist and Alastor was standing up straight again.

"Now, I wouldn't say this matter is done, but I suppose it could wait."

You sat up, staring at him. The more you stared, the more his eyes couldn't seem to decide on what to focus on. Was he...nervous?

That encounter didn't go anywhere else significant. He simply said a farewell and left you to your own devices.

===========

Your eye twitched as you took a long, deep breath.

Alastor was being so horribly, horribly annoying.

The last couple days he resumed his role as your shadow, but this time solely with the task of irritating you. He'd chew loudly, he'd step in an off-rhythm on purpose, he'd claw the surface of things you couldn't stand the sound of and it made your ears hurt and your jaw ache from how much you were grinding your teeth.

You had enough.

"Will you LEAVE ME ALONE!?" You snapped at him. He didn't so much as flinch, simply tilting his head and he leaned closer to you.

"Or what?"

"I'm going to shove your hooves so far up your ass you'll be coughing up horseshoes for a week-"

"I'm a deer, not a horse." He said, eyes crinkling up in amusement at your 'threat'.

You hissed out an agitated breath before taking a couple deep, long breaths and you felt your jaw lax (a little) and your temper die down a bit.

"...Yeah, you're right." You said after a moment "And I'm sorry. I didn't really have much of a reason to snap at you like that."

His eyes narrowed and you couldn't be bothered to wonder why. You said a curt goodbye and meandered off, feeling his eyes trained on your retreating form. You couldn't be bother to think about that, either.

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

Hi it's me the writer. Letting you all know that this is not planned in the slightest and i'm just winging it. No smut will happen EVER though because I don't wanna write it. So kindly look elsewhere if that's what you want. I will put a poll here though with considerations for potential next installment