#like for a second i genuinely considered getting more glass in my foot just to feel it come out

[jonny-b-meowborn]

The worst thing about skin picking disorder is that no sensory toy or whatever can perfectly replicate that feeling. It's not just about scratching or plucking or popping something with my fingers or a tool, it's about feeling it come off my skin. Like I wanna feel both ends of it, and a toy can't replace that

[fleet-of-fiction]

Jake Kiszka // Female Reader

Summary: Jake's time off is driving you crazy. You still have to work from home and he's demanding your attention. During an important phone call, he decides to take matters into his own hands. And mouth.

A/N: Enjoy this smutty little blurb I've been rolling around in my mouth for a few weeks. It's slightly self indulgent. But certainly a little something I felt needed to be shared.

Warnings: Oral sex f. Fingering. Edging. Dirty talk. Deprivation.

He was bored. Lingering in the space where you'd tried to close the door and he'd caught it, a look of boyish indignation on his face that let you know he wasn't about to let you get any work done.

"If the shoe was on the other foot..." You sighed. "And I disturbed you like this in the studio, you'd be furious."

There wasn't any desire to reject his playful insistence that you pay him some attention. There was nothing more that you wanted than to close your inbox and switch your phone off. To go downstairs with him and get settled on the couch with a glass of wine and let him delicately work his way up your body as you tried to watch a movie.

But deadlines were sat there, making your heart sink and your patience wear ever increasingly more thin. Never more so than when your love was home. His guitar case closed, the need to satisfy weeks of salacious messages exchanged from the tour bus and hotel rooms.

"Furiously turned on." He replied, flashing you a grin that sent flutters down from your stomach into the ebb of your aching core.

"Jake." You moaned, "Go and find something else to do."

You knew he wouldn't. You knew he would continue to watch you type out irrelevant e-mails and feel the mounting arousal in his gaze as you simmered under a barely there thong and t-shirt. Inappropriate to wear in an office, but a sight for sore eyes as you sat at the little desk in the corner of the house.

"There's nothing else I want to do in this house, than you." He complained, adorning the most rage inducing pout you'd ever seen.

You considered setting aside your tasks. To let him fawn over you a little while. Let him have a taste of everything he had missed, just enough to slake his need. To make him less deprived. There was mischief in his eyes and you could never squander the opportunity to see what his boredom could conjure.

"Give me five minutes." You gave in, rolling your eyes playfully but knowing his triumph would bring you to a valiant end.

He tilted his chin. Let the corners of his mouth turn upward. Smug. Like you'd put up a genuine fight. Basking in the glory of his defeat of your intention to continue working. And you would have let him have it, were it not for the tiny little name flashing up on your screen moments later.

Your boss. A name which never usually invoked much of a reaction, but as your attention began to wander it felt as if you could have slipped your phone underneath the pile of paperwork you were yet to complete and simply ignore it.

Jake watched closely to see what you would do. Shaking his head slowly as you swiped your thumb across the screen and mouthed a pathetic 'sorry' as you took the call.

That was your first mistake. To think that he would simply honour your decision to derail his mounting desire. The second was to think that he wouldn't continue in his quest to pull you away from your work load.

"I'm looking at that file right now." You said, spinning your chair around to face the computer, Jake's reflection sitting behind the ceaseless words and numbers you needed to make sense of. "No, there doesn't appear to be any anomalies. But I can double check the numbers for you and get them back to you in the next hour."

No sooner had you made that promise, you felt your chair being spun back around. Jake, on his knees, a serious expression etched on his face as he silently pleaded with you to let him have his way.

"Yes, of course." You continued, holding the phone to your ear whilst widening your eyes. "If all the files need checking I can oversee that for you."

You let your boss speak about numbers and figures. Checking and double checking files. The monotonous drone of their voice fading away as you felt the lace edge of your thong slide down your thighs. Jake, without any regard for what your boss might hear, spread your legs and licked his lips at the sight of it.

"Yes, I'm still here." You tried to focus, almost audibly moaning at the sensation of his hands moving your thighs apart. "Sorry, can you repeat that?"

He was evil for this. The daring glint in his eye as he looked up at you. The sensation of his hair as it brushed against your inner thigh. All the ways in which he brought you back to him, even as you tried to keep your focus elsewhere. He knew the battle for your attention was one that he would always win, but he enjoyed the fight. And you were powerless to stop him. Resolve dissolving as you gripped the phone a little tighter.

You let him lean you back into the arms of the office chair. Raising your knees, letting them fall open as he sank into the gravitational pull of your throbbing pussy.

"Mmmm'hmmm." You hummed, perhaps in agreeance with something your boss said, but mostly at the brush of Jake's tongue as it swept across your outer lips.

The fragility of your voice was going to be the thing which gave you away. The gentle laps of his mouth as it licked the length of your slit, causing you to arch your spine where you sat, would be your undoing.

"Of course." You carried on, trying to keep your voice steady. "I think those were the files I sent over to you last week... Yes, in the blue...folder."

You caught a look of pure unadulterated satisfaction in the way he almost made you unravel. Using two calloused finger tips to open you up even wider. Holding your pussy lips apart, he set his mouth against your swollen clit. Padding the flat of his tongue against it, causing the nerves to awaken and send a flood of arousal to every muscle and sinew in your body. All your joints became loose, and you almost dropped the phone.

"I'll have to draft up some templates." You felt ridiculous, speaking of such ordinary things whilst you were being subjected to a depraved act of sexual rebellion.

He was practically drinking from you as he pressed his nose up against your mound. Letting his mouth take all of you in. Sucking in your lips so that his tongue could reach your entrance. Feeling the sudden rush of blood to your head as his tongue ventured inside.

Your head fell back as he probed you with it. The all consuming need to take a fist of his hair and moan at the way he took you there like that had you tempted to hang up.

"No, I can get that done for you by Friday." You assured, inwardly begging and pleading for the conversation to end.

When he came up to catch his breath, you were smothered across the lower half of his face. Mouth and chin saturated in pussy juice as he ran a palm over the whisks of facial hair that glistened. He stared at you with half closed lids, like he was lost to his arousal and didn't see the phone in your hand anymore.

"Keep talking, baby." He whispered, gathering your t-shirt in a closed fist, pulling you towards his sticky mouth.

There was no doubt in your mind that the kiss would travel down the airwaves. The sound your throat made as his mouth made contact. The uncontrollable whimper that was breathy and almost silent, but not quite. The sound of his tongue as it travelled against yours, the taste of what he'd swallowed now in your mouth as you tried to hold yourself steady against the ramblings going on at the other end of the receiver.

And then the inevitable question came. Is everything alright over there? As if you could tear yourself away from his sweet breath. You kept your tongue in his mouth far longer than you'd anticipated. And when the response came, it was almost met with suspicion.

"Yes." You replied swiftly, feeling foolish for being so reckless. "Everything's fine. My apologies, what was it you were saying about the new deadline?"

He almost fell to laughter. Seeing the crimson in your cheeks and the heavy flush in the flesh at your throat. Positively wrecked by his assault. And nowhere near to being done with it.

The blurred lines between decency were ruined. All you could do was submit. Your chest heaving in shallow breaths as he lingered at your mouth with his parted slightly. Not kissing, but savouring the way your lips were a little swollen from the pressure of his mouth against them.

"Mute them." He instructed, "They don't want to hear this."

You swallowed thickly. Swiping over the little mic icon until it was crossed out. Your boss carried on talking, little musings that required no response but information you no doubt needed in order to get the next lot of projects done.

"Whatever it is you're planning on doing, do it quickly." You urged, letting him slide the phone out of your hand and place it screen down on the pile of unfinished paperwork.

"Hold on tight." He said, causing you to grip the arms of the chair in trepidation.

Pushing the hem of your t-shirt up, he exposed your breasts and rose on his knees to meet them. His body pressed up against you, warm and tender. He wasted no time in taking what he wanted. Sucking your nipple violently into his mouth as he penetrated you with two of the most delicious fingers.

And then you knew why he'd wanted that conversation muted. The sound of your wetness pounding against his knuckles was utterly pornographic. Teeth bore down into your flesh as you threw your head back and you began panting wildly at the way he punched into you. Flecks of pussy juice flicked onto your thighs, spreading up his forearm as he fucked into you with his hand.

Your entire body was shaking with the onslaught. The chair practically ready to fall back as he curled his fingers inside you and applied the most delicious pressure on those places he loved to tease the most. You couldn't breathe. Your legs felt entirely weak. Your senses heightened.

"Taking phone calls when you've promised to fuck me." He admonished, bringing his mouth to your ear as your breasts bounced against his chest. "I'm gonna teach you never to make promises like that, baby."

You loved how he made you a sloppy mess. Looking into your eyes as he vigorously forced his fingers inside you as far as they would go. Watching your brow furrow and your jaw go slack, nose wrinkled in a look of absolute hedonistic pleasure. If this was a punishment, it didn't feel much like one.

"I'm gonna lose my job, baby..." You whimpered, letting him slow to a steady pace, his fingers sliding in and out as your pussy lips pulled against saturated knuckles. "I really....fuck...I have to get back to this call..."

You could see how worked up he was. A little edge of disappointment as you picked your phone back up, your boss still prattling on as if you'd been listening the entire time. You kept eye contact with him, listening to the way your pussy sounded now that he'd ruined it.

"That all sounds fine." You interjected, "I should probably go and get a head start on all of this."

Jakes thumb was rolling around your clit. Pulling back the hood, pressing down on it like it was a big red button that shouldn't be pressed. Begging to be detonated. Your breath still lingering on errant moans you didn't dare express.

"Yes..." You could feel his intention rise. "Yes, that all sounds do-able."

You needed to let go. To feel the fissures of your orgasm that was building more clearly. He'd call it legendary, the way he'd made you let him play with you while on this seemingly important interaction. He'd talk about it again and again when he wanted to remind you that you were his.

You were about to speak when his mouth returned to you. Sucking on your tongue as if to rob you of all the words you were meant to say. You could hear your boss on the other end of the phone, waiting for your response, one that you simply couldn't make whilst letting Jake wrap his lips around you. All you could do was gently murmur until he had his fill.

"Anything you need." You said breathlessly, to your boss...to Jake. "I'm gonna go ahead and make a start on those files for you, ok?"

He slapped your pussy with the back of his hand as you came off the call. Causing you to squeal, a high pitched whine of delight.

"Oh, no..." He shook his head. "You think just because you hung up that you get to cum now, is that it?"

You would have begged. But it would have been futile.

"Stand up." He ordered, bringing you to your feet. "Palms on the desk."

The torturous beat of his ministrations continued. Thighs parted as you leaned against the array of work left undone. He fell to his knees again and licked endless stripes up from your pussy into the valley of your ass. Pressing his mouth into the moisture there. Making your begs come out in painful moans. Not in words, but in restrained little moans that did nothing to help your cause.

"You ready for my cock?" He asked, sliding a solitary fingertip down the path of where his tongue had been.

The way your head moved up and down, humming your need as the word yes spilled out... you felt the incomparable rage of your phone vibrating again.

.

.

.

@caprisunsister @thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch @lyndz2names @nina-23-45 @itsafullmoon y @char289 @dancingcarbon @gvfpal @violetstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @jazzyfigz @gvfmarge @ignite-my-fire

[bluewatersfairy]

distraction - j.p.

a/n: this one's for everyone in my inbox, I see all your messages and I love y'all 😭

synopsis: late night studying very quickly turned into needing a distraction which may come in the form of a fwb!

warnings: mature content, MINORS DNI! unprotected sex (wrap it, then tap it), dom!reader, sub!jordan if you squint lots

word count: 2.6k (writing under 3k is crazy for me)

p.s. it's been ages since I've written something in one night so I genuinely have had no time to consider if this is good or not (oh and this is not proof read)

•••

“You sounded urgent on the phone?” Jordan inquired as you opened the door and grabbed his arm to pull him inside.  He’d come over in record time, but it still wasn’t quick enough.  

“It is urgent,” you said, putting your hands on his waist and pushing him to sit on your couch.  “Have you had sex with anyone recently?”

Your hands were in your hair, carefully moving it to be so it wasn’t in the way.  Jordan stared up at you, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips sitting pouted.  “What do you mean?”

“It’s a yes or no,” you said, lowering to your knees in front of him, “answer me.”  You braced your hands on his thighs and for the first time actually looked him in the eyes since he’d arrived.  He’d clearly picked up on your rush and desperation, you could see a familiar sparkle in his eyes, but he still looked deeply confused. 

“I haven’t,” he breathed out slowly, “just you.”  He gave you a little half smirk and watched as you stood again, sliding into his lap with ease.

His hands immediately went to grip at your hips and you carefully took his glasses off, popping them on the foot stool that was by the arm of the couch.  He watched you attentively, waiting for you to be face to face with him again.  

“Rough day?” he asked as you ran your hand up his neck to cup his face.  You let your thumb brush over his bottom lip and the two of you held eye contact.  His eyes not so subtly glanced between your eyes and your lips, his mind wandering off at the sight of your gloss.  He couldn’t tell if that was what smelt so good or if it was just you. 

“If I stare at my assignment any longer, my head might explode.”  You tilted his head slightly and waited to see if he was going to give you any type of resistance or if he was just along for the ride.  You took a few moments to look over his face and compose yourself.  Less than a minute ago he’d knocked on your apartment door and now you were straddling him on your couch.  A lot can happen in 60 seconds.

“I like being your distraction,” he smirked before you leant forward and connected your lips with his.  

He met your greedy kiss with the same type of energy straight away, his mouth opening and letting you take control of him.  It was rushed and hot, desperation dripping off of you.  It felt like the first time all over again, like you weren’t quite sure where to put your hands or what part of him you wanted to feel most.  You loved his lips on yours but they could do so much damage wherever they landed.  He just knew what to do to drive you insane and as much as that was what you wanted, you needed control.

You pushed on his shoulder as you tried to get some leverage on him and without meaning to, rocked your hips on top of his.  He let out a strangled moan and your lips broke away from one another.  His arms wrapped around your torso and he buried his face in your neck.  The tip of his nose rubbed against the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck while his lips sloppily kissed and grabbed at you. 

“Fuck,” he groaned out as you pressed your hips against his again, “you smell so good.”

You weren’t sure if it was what he said or his hot breath on your neck but you needed more contact with him.  Your hand went back to his neck and you pushed his head back again.  He leant against the back of the couch and seemingly waited for you to kiss him again.  

“Take your hoodie off,” you sat back on his lap as you spoke, “shirt too.”

Jordan didn’t make a move straight away so instead you pulled your shirt off.  He had this look on his face that almost looked like admiration, it didn’t really make sense considering, but once your shirt was gone he was pulling his hoodie off over his head.  He lifted his knees slightly and pulled you closer to him.  His hand reached for the back of your bra while he danced his lips across your chest. 

“You’re in a mood today,” he mumbled against your collarbone before he let his teeth playfully nip your smooth skin, “I like it.”

You rolled your eyes as he undid your bra and let the straps fall down your arms before tossing it away with the rest of your clothes.  You went to say something about how you really didn’t care what he liked but instead were cut off by his lips attaching to your nipple and his large hands palming your tits.  

“Shit,” you sighed, “I don’t have all night, J.  I got deadlines.”  He groaned with your tit still in his mouth before pulling away.  You took the chance to lift yourself up to pull the pair of NRL shorts you had on down and Jordan awkwardly pulled his grey sweats off by only lifting his hips off of the couch.  

“I need a second,” Jordan took a breath as you sat down on his lap again.  He could feel the heat radiating from your core and it was making his heart race.  But his hard-on had barely had time to grow, a lot was happening very quickly and he felt like he physically wasn’t at the same place he was mentally.

Knowing Jordan, you spat on your hand and reached under you to pick up his shaft and kissed him again.  You licked into his mouth and slowly rubbed your hand against his dick.  He let out quiet moans into your mouth and you tried to pull him closer to you.  His hands gripped on your ass and thighs and he melted into you.  

“Is that enough?” you asked breathlessly between a few soft pecks.  Jordan nodded quickly and you let your thumb brush over his tip, collecting the precum he had started to leak.  

You smiled at him and popped your thumb in your mouth, tasting him before reaching between the two of you again.  

“You don’t need anything?” Jordan asked as you lined his cock up with your opening, “it feels weird not going down on you.”

“Shut up,” you said half playfully as you pushed his face back again.  He laughed a little and the two of you shared a smile before you lowered your hips on to him, “you’re a giver, a real gentleman, we get it.”  

Sinking on top of him gave you a rush like no other.  The slight curve of his tip meant that he always managed to drag against your g-spot when you were on top.  It was the easiest way for you to get off and that was part of why it was your favourite way to have Jordan.  Not to mention the face time you got meant that the two of you were forced to connect with one another emotionally, not just physically.  It was a nice arrangement, it felt right, in the weirdest way. 

“God, you feel good baby,” you smiled at Jordan as you braced your hands on his broad shoulders.  

Jordan almost missed what you’d said.  He had his eyes closed and his eyebrows furrowed and seemed to be really concentrating.  And he was.  Over and over again in his head he was repeating the same words: don’t bust quick.  This wasn’t the first time he’d been inside of you without protection, but it had been a few weeks since the two of you had hooked up and feeling how wet and hot you were was not helping his case.  You were paradise, but he was here for you and had to at least try and last a decent amount of time before he let go.

“God damn,” he cussed when his eyes met yours, “I might just be infatuated with you after all this.”

“Oh you best be,’ you grinned as you leant up to kiss him again.  It was just a quick peck, but Jordan made it clear he was expecting more.  “Quiet now, Pretty boy, I’m tryna do something.”  

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and you pulled your hips up, feeling him drag against your walls before pushing yourself back down again.  The first few times were more to feel him, you wanted it to be nice and slow just to drive him a little bit crazy.  It was clearly working too, he was hissy in your ear and gripping your hips tight, though he made no move to take over.

Once your speed picked up, he offered some assistance but you were completely in control.  You moved your body against him, feeling every inch of his dick and getting lost in the sounds you were pulling out of him.  The air was thick with your arousal and the sounds of your ass against his thighs.  

“Oh my god,” you called out loudly as you felt his head twitch inside you.  You paused your hips and gripped Jordan’s shoulders again, digging your nails into his skin, before you rolled your hips to get some traction for you.  

“I’m not gonna cum,” Jordan choked out, his head leaning back and his eyes focused on the ceiling.  You smirked and rolled your hips again which sent a jolt through his body.  “I’m not ruining this for you baby, just give me a second.”

You giggled a little and rolled your hips again, seeing the exact same reaction from him, “you’re not ruining anything honey,” you cooed.  He made eye contact with you briefly but that sent another jolt through his body and he pulled his eyes back to the ceiling.  

“If you wanna cum you can,” you said sweetly, your lips leaning down to kiss his heaving chest.  You dragged your lips up his pecs and left opened mouthed kisses trailing up to his neck.  “Nothing’s stopping me tonight.”  

Very carefully you sucked the skin below his ear lobe, pulling a throaty groan from him.  You only pulled away when you were sure you’d left a little mark and blew cool air on it.  You’d always wanted to leave your mark on him, a part of you interested to see how the internet would react and the other feeling proud that you could get a big name like Jordan Poole acting like a lost boy.    

“You’re a fucking problem,” he groaned as your eyes connected again, his moment of weakness clearly having passed.

“You thought this was gonna be easy?” you teased with a smile.  He reacted by smacking your ass before tightening his grip on your hips.

Again, you pulled yourself up and started to rock against him at a steady rhythm.  Your words had seemingly relaxed Jordan and he was just gonna let whatever happen.  It was just about you now and you accepted that with a smile.

Feeling him twitch against your walls sent hot flashes throughout your body.  Your g-spot was being stimulated more and more with each passing moment.  You hadn’t noticed but the heat coming off of his raging tip added an extra sensation to your experience.  Usually at a time like this you’d pull away from whoever and get them to play with your clit or you’d do it yourself, but this was a better feeling.  You were getting wetter the more you worked to get it just right.

“I’m about to cum,” you let out between pants and you adjusted your legs quickly to make it easier to go quicker.  The new angle put your tits in Jordan’s face and he immediately started to give them attention, driving you closer to the edge.

“Your clit,” Jordan suddenly said between movements, “does it need-shit.”  He cut himself off as something like lightning struck through him again.  

“Cum inside me J,” you encouraged, your own head being thrown back as you moved quickly.  You were burning up and were hyper aware of his every touch.  He’d never finished inside before but it felt like the right moment, you didn’t want to part ways with him and you wanted to feel him come undone.  

“Gah, are you sure?” his puppy dog eyes found yours for a second, he needed proper confirmation.

“You’re not allowed to pull out,” you argued back, “shit, shit, shit.”

You pushed Jordan’s shoulders back again and used every instinct you had to ride on top of him.  He spurted out a loud string of cuss words and inaudible claims as he let his head fall back against the couch.  You felt him twitch inside and waves of heat flow through you.  The sounds coming from your bodies was becoming louder, wetter, and you knew you were almost there.  You changed your movements slightly so there was more friction in your movements and you knew you were done.

“You look so fucking good right now,” Jordan choked out, “you’re gonna cum, aren’t you?”

Even in his fucked-out blissful state, Jordan found your clit blindly and fumbled to rub it just to give you a little more stimulation.  He knew it was what was going to send you over and like magic, your name was falling from his lips mixed with loud moans.  You came on top of him, your sex mixing with his and making more of a mess between your thighs.  You rode out your high, your body arching and legs fighting to stay open.

After the final jolt, you let yourself relax against Jordan’s chest.  You could hear his heart beating rapidly and it made you laugh a little.  You weren’t sure how long you sat there with him still inside you.  It was definitely longer than the time it took for him to walk in your front door for you to get him naked.  

“When’s your deadline?” he asked, breaking the silence and pulling you out of your little dreamworld.

“Tomorrow morning at 9am,” you replied, glancing at the clock behind him.  “Why?”

He checked his own watch quickly before brushing some of your hair out of your face, “I’m stickin’ around until everything’s done.  Just in case you need this again, or someone to talk to.”

Someone to talk to, that was how this whole situationship had started up.  One night he’d just been around past midnight and suddenly you were making out with him, and then you were naked, and then he was asking where you keep your condoms.  Life comes at you fast sometimes.  

“I guess you can stick around, you’ve probably got clothes here anyways.”  You kissed him quickly and smiled before carefully standing up, still on the couch.  Unexpectedly, Jordan gave your hand a kiss before helping you get down safely.  You pulled him up and the two of you walked to the bathroom, grabbing a few cloths from your linen cupboard along the way. 

“You should be like that more often,” Jordan commented from the shower while you were sitting on the toilet.  He was just turning the hot water on when you made eye contact with him.

“Like what?”

“Y’know,” he smirked, “in charge.  It’s hot, I like it.”

You rolled your eyes and stood up from the toilet, checking to make sure you weren’t going to leak anymore if you put on a clean pair of pj pants.  

“I’m going back to my assignment,” you said after washing your hands, “I’ll call on you if I need another distraction.”

“I’ll be ready,” he smirked and saluted you before you stepped out, pulling the door closed behind you. 

[batchild9000-blog]

Arm wrestling

Preface: 

I recently watched TLOK  for the first time, and the idea for this has been floating around in my head for a hot minute. If I don’t divest my system of it, the chances of me being productive tomorrow are slim to none. o7 god speed soldier. Also I love Bolin and Opal, but it is inconvenient to consider, so we will say that the relationship ended naturally at some point after the series.

It’s hot. It’s always fucking hot in here, but tonight the unseasonable warmth makes it unbearable. Even though the sun had been down for several hours, the black star filled night was no respite. The buzzing of the city kept these alleys and hole-in-the-wall bars well above sweating temperature. It reminds you of the frantic beating of  bees' wings attempting to assassinate an unworthy queen with their body heat. You suppose you’re that queen.

The crowd you have gathered is smaller than usual, but that ought to be expected with how terrible the weather is. Nobody in their right mind would be in a place like this on a night like tonight. Another bead of sweat slides down the small pieces of hair that have fallen about your face, red from both the heat and from exertion. You take another swig from the nearly empty water skin at your side. Shit. You’ll need to refill that soon; dehydration is NOT an option. The buzzing crowd needed your attention though. Beneath the flickering yellow bulbs of the bar their eyes seem almost predatory. Shaking off the feeling you stood, plastering an arrogant smirk on your face, before addressing them. 

“So… Who is my next challenger hmm? Anyone here think they’re stronger than tough guy over there?” The man you gestured to, whom you had just beaten handily at a wagered arm wrestle, sneered, and slapped several coins onto the bar before storming out. He didn’t even finish his drink. Walking over to the abandoned pint glass (well there’s no sense in wasting it) you point to a large bearded man who had been watching the match intently. “How about you. I’m sure you could beat me! I’ll bet 20 yuans that you couldn’t!” Picking up the drink you sniff, and determining it to be palatable, throw it down. It’s extra water right? At least you tell yourself that as it burns down your esophagus. You stand there for a minute, goading the crowd to approach you. On busier nights it may only take seconds for another pompous dude to walk up, and challenge you. They often do so without seeing the previous round, and only because they believe it to be easy money. Why wouldn’t I be able to beat some unathletic, five foot nothing girl? She’s probably drunk, and overestimating herself… On this night however, your swift victory drew almost every eye in the spot, making other challengers wary. A sting shot up the tendons of your right arm. Maybe it's a bad idea to push your luck like this. Before you can really consider it, a tall young (pretty) man practically bounces toward you.

 “I’ll arm wrestle you!!!” A more genuine smile threatens to break your mask. Who is this kid? He ran up to you like a puppy. You can almost see a tail wagging behind him. Wait what? You can for sure see a tail. OH, ok, there’s a fire ferret in his shirt. Weird, but not as weird as you thought, anyways. He just looked so excited. You know it’s going to suck to break his spirit. Oh well. 

“Alright then, what’s your bet?” The man shuffles in place, rifling through his pockets for a moment before pulling out a couple yuan. Your eyebrow arches at the small wager, and you sigh. There’s no sense in wasting it. Looping back to your table, you set down ‘your’ drink on the empty next table over. Looking with resolve at the green eyed man, you place your elbow in the middle of the table, hand opened outward. Under the new lighting something about him strikes you. “Wait a minute, you’re in the movers aren’t you? I didn’t recognize you at first without the shorts!” 

“It’s true. I guess I can’t go anywhere these days without getting recognized.” the man commented to the small group that finally caught up with him. The spiky haired man to his left held his brow in one hand, and was rubbing his temples slowly. The actor looked back at you, beaming. “I’m Bolin, or as you may know me, Nuktuk, hero of the south!” The fire ferret tucked into his shirt scurried onto his shoulders as he said it, framing his head like one of the mover posters you’ve seen around. You giggled at them. They had to have practiced that. (This guy was also a pro bender at one point right? This might be a VERY bad idea.) 

“I’m Y/N, Hero! Of” you glance for a moment around you at the seedy dive, “Well its nothing too important.” Despite your better judgment you stay. Bolin grasps your hand in his. Hoping to the spirits the redness on your face hadn’t deepened because of his hand holding yours, you rattle off the challenge rules. 

“Elbows must be in contact with the table for the entire round, the loser is the first person who's hand back touches the table, and no weapons… You wouldn’t believe how many people bring weapons.” you say, shaking your head disappointedly. Crucially, ‘no bending’ has never been included in your standard rulebook. It helps to believe that what you’re doing isn’t REALLY lying, or illegal. It’s just misleading. You nod at a customer beside you, whom you had solicited previously to start the other matches. They sigh, but begrudgingly say, “Three. Two. One. START.”  You tend to start matches without any help. You never want to really hurt anyone’s pride. You just want their money. After struggling for approximately half a second though, it is clear that you are physically outmatched. This fact isn’t helped by your distraction at the prominent veins coiling up his forearm to his bulging bicep that dwarfs your own significantly. Shit. Ok, panic button. With your left arm hidden beneath the table you begin bending, little by little. The familiar burning pain coursed through your right arm as the muscle fibers stiffened, pulled taut manually by your bending. It isn’t really blood bending, that’s illegal, and it isn’t even on anyone else! All your doing is just giving yourself an edge, and it’s not blood really, you’re just kinda messing with the muscle tissue. Your, and Bolin’s hands began to rotate the opposite direction. The shock in Bolin’s face is hidden from you, as your eyes were shut, your face screwed up in agony. One thing about the pain, it made the act more realistic. You had Bolin’s hand probably three inches from the table surface when something unexpected happened. 

You stopped moving. Your surprise overcame the pain for a moment, just long enough to steal a glance at the earthbender’s face. Pure determination molded his features into a stone wall. His arm too, was like stone. No person had ever been able to stop you in your tracks like this. For a moment you were both completely still. The next moment the air was punctuated by a loud snap. You let go immediately, your bending forgotten, as a scream of shocked agony tore through you. Bolin let go, the offending arm flopping uselessly to the table. The jolt of the fracture on the hard table sent another wave of pain up through your shoulder… and that's about the last thing you remember from before you awoke here.

Bolin’s perspective: 

Bolin screamed probably as loud as you did after breaking your arm. Mako’s eyes blew out wide as he realized what happened. “What did you do?!” Makos voice piped up for the first time since arriving. Bolin, who had stood, and was now supporting your limp form was having a little bit of a  freak out. “UM.” he said. “I was just arm wrestling, and her arm… and then she passed out..” Bolin was almost at the point of tears. Mako, stood, and shook his shoulder. “Hey. Calm down, we’ll just take her to Korra, she can heal it. But what the hell? How do you just snap someones whole arm?” The last comment did not in fact, help him to calm down. Bolin pulled you into a fireman’s carry, your broken arm hanging free. As the two left the bar, unconscious you in toe. The bartender didn't even look up. Prick. 

“You broke her arm?” Korra’s voice echoed in the open courtyard of air temple island. Realizing her mistake, she switches to a harsh whisper while leading the trio to a fountain surrounded by stone benches. Her hair stuck out at odd angles, messy from sleep. “And why did you bring her here? There’s a hospital in this city for a reason, they have perfectly capable healers.” Despite her words, she pulled a cord of water from the fountain, sculpting it into a gentle glowing blob around the point of fracture. 

“Air temple island happened to be closer.” Mako replied, not mentioning that the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. Bolin had settled behind you, resting your head on his lap instead of the hard stone. He felt incredibly guilty, and it showed in every line of his face. 

“She’s going to be okay right? I’ve never seen someone just pass out like that.” Korra, sensing his concern, answered. 

She’ll be alright, honestly the fracture itself isn’t that terrible. You’ve gotten hit worse in the arena… but.” The avatar trailed off, almost confused, focusing more intently on the arm she was healing.

Your perspective:  Your eyes fluttered open, met by a set of brilliant green ones. The light of the dive didn’t do them justice. Now in the clear starlight and gentle glow, they are breathtaking. What is that glow anyways? Turning your gaze (rather reluctantly) you see your arm, coated in warm light. Is that the avatar? Shit. You finally got yourself killed with that stupid scam. At least you made it to somewhere nice in the afterlife. Or maybe you were just in the weird loopy time right before death. Bolin’s relieved voice convinced you that you were in fact not dead though. 

“She’s awake!” he exclaimed, strong hand rubbing gentle circles on your shoulder where you lay on his thighs. (ON HIS WHAT). You stuff down the jolt you felt at that realization, hoping that the avatar couldn’t feel your heart rate increasing. Oh yeah, the avatar. You sat up, the awkwardness of the moment finally hitting you. You let out a nervous chuckle. 

“Haha, it takes more than that to take me out… um. Hi. the avatar.” you glance up again at Bolin. I guess this guy really is famous. 

“Hi. Korra is fine”  her voice clipped short, you thought for a moment she must be angry, but her eyes were closed, and her brow furrowed in deep concentration. OH. You pulled your arm out of the water reflexively. 

“Oh, I really am sorry. Thank you for fixing my arm, I really appreciate it.” Your wet sleeve dripped a trail behind you as you glanced around you, stopping short as you finally realized your location. Bolin followed you up off the bench.

“You should really take it easy for a minute! You fainted, and I broke your arm! I really am sorry about that by the way. You are like REALLY strong by the way. Like crazy strong. He caught up to you, and placing a supportive hand on your upper back, tacked on another “I’m sorry for breaking your arm.” for good measure. 

“I.” you look back, Korra now standing with her arms crossed in front of her, Mako mirroring his stance (I don’t care that she doesn’t know his name, I’m not writing that in. We’ll say she knows it from pro bending, OK?). Korra broke the silence of your less than half hearted explanation. 

“Something isn’t right. The fracture healed perfectly, but there’s something else wrong with your arm. It’s almost like its filled with scar tissue. I’m surprised you can even move it!” Your eyes go wide.

 “Um.” you mutter, looking once more around at the gazebos and courtyards of air temple island for a good escape route. Not seeing one, you resign yourself to your fate. “Yeah. I guess I owe you an explanation.” you tilt your head to one side, looking once more at Bolin’s adorable, now confused, face. As you sit down once again Korra reaches for another ball of water, but you wave her off. “It’s alright.” she lets it flow back into the fountain. 

“So I run this scam. It’s really not as bad as it sounds. I only take what people are willing to throw away.” That bit is mostly for yourself. “I just take advantage of people's preconceptions! Nobody thinks that I can beat them physically, and they’re generally right, so I level the playing field.” You trail off, hesitating to admit to them what you refuse to admit to yourself. “I just bend my arm. I’ve never done it to anyone else, I don’t even know if I could.” 

Korra cuts you off, and you’re grateful. Hot tears have begun to sting behind your eyes, you raise your face to the starlight, fending them off. 

“You’re a bloodbender.” the word falls through the pit in your stomach, making your extremities blanch cold in the warm air.

“NO.” you shudder, and the tears fall silently. “I am just a person trying to make a living! I never asked for it. I never even wanted to. But it’s here, and it’s mine. So I use it.” The words are chopped, and breathy in the hot nighttime. “Look, I'm sorry. I’m sorry I misled you, I’m sorry about your money.” You step toward Bolin. Digging through your pockets for the handful of yuan he had presented you. Failing to find it you glance down, but a second later you find your face buried in soft green linen. Bolin’s arms around you are firm and unwavering. You cling to him like a mollusk on the rocks, as you begin to cry in earnest. 

“It’s ok. It’s going to be ok.” He says softly, and it breaks you. Silent sobs rack your chest. As your sin is laid bare before the starlight, and you are forgiven. (is that too dramatic, the catholic guilt is coming in clutch) You stay like that for a minute, and your breathing calms. Finally you pull back, tearstained eyes meeting his. “I know what that’s like. To do what you need to to survive. You’re going to be ok. I promise.” His assurance threatens to send you into tears again, but for now you just look away. Pulling his hand forward, tracing the lines of his palm with your fingertips, you sniff. “Thank you.” squeezing his hand in yours. “Thank you.”

And then they get married and live happily ever after the end! byeeee

hopefully I can actually be productive now.

Also I’m not going to proof read or edit this 🤷‍♀️

[naquey]

A Different Perspective

What I can only assume would be a different perspective of the night I came out as trans and wanted to be a boy. Of course, my mother couldn't tell me what she was thinking, so I could only assume that.

Word count: 700

“She wants to be a boy?” 

Annette, shrouded in the mystery of a James Patterson novel, sat in bed with a book open. Nightly reading was her enigmatic routine, a veil to distract her from the day's events. Her husband, James, sat at his computer. The cool white glow of the screen reflected off his glasses. He leaned back, probably scrolling through internet news. 

“You heard her? She said she thinks she’s a boy because she plays video games.” The way he said it didn’t allude to amusement or laughter; instead, he didn’t take it seriously. 

“Yes, but she seemed so… so panicky. Like she was afraid, we wouldn’t love her.” 

“No, she knows we love her.” 

“I don’t know. We haven’t been spending as much time with her lately.” 

“She’s almost a teenager. At this age, they want nothing to do with their parents.” James laughed. “Hun, you’re thinking about it too much.” 

“You’re not thinking about it nearly enough.” Annette shot back, closing her book. 

“Okay,” James turned to the open doorway of their room. “Perhaps she just read something on the internet and thinks it describes her. Kids do this all the time with mental illnesses.” 

“Right. You’re right. It’s probably just something she read online again.” 

But this didn’t quell his wife's curiosity. Typically, their daughter didn’t come to them with a problem unless she genuinely needed their help. She couldn’t help but think there was more to this than a kid's ramble about wanting to be different, but maybe it was only because her daughter was drifting further away from her. The girl just cut her hair short, like a boy's haircut, and seemed so happy. Maybe this was just what kids do. Opening her book again, she couldn’t pay attention to the novel's mystery, her mind running rampant with thoughts. She was unsure of what to think or what to do. How should she approach this? What would she say? If she didn’t say the right thing, she could very well lose her daughter, but was there even a right thing? For a moment, just a moment, she thought of calling Tammy—thought of asking her cousin how her parents reacted when she came out as a lesbian. She considered contacting her friend Karen and asking her for advice on this situation. It seemed like their daughter was happy and bubbly yesterday, but thinking about memories, she noticed just how unhappy their little girl was. 

Late in the night, Annette tossed and turned. She wasn’t a heavy sleeper. Even the slightest movement, like her husband's foot, would wake her. Getting up to go to the bathroom, she turned the light on in the hallway. She would wonder why they slept in the attic, but it was the only other room. James’ sister kept all her things in the middle room on the second floor, and Papa, her father-in-law, had his room. She passed by her daughter's bedroom door, which was open and ajar. Inside, the girl was asleep, and she turned back to the room. She turned on the light in the bathroom and returned to the bedroom. Annette peered through the opening between the door and the wall. A few weeks ago, they removed the dollhouse and most of her dolls from her room. She couldn’t help but think that it was their worst idea, but their daughter couldn’t keep her room clean. 

Closing the door with a soft click, Annette went to the bathroom and then went back to bed. Was this the right thing? Should she address it? Everything was so confusing now. She couldn’t help but feel her daughter slipping through her fingers. The next thing she knew, her little girl would be going off to college and getting a job, and this would be the thing that divided them. Of course, her husband doesn’t take it seriously because he knows that kids say the weirdest things, but something doesn’t feel right. A mother knows when something is wrong. A mother knows when their child is in danger. Settling back into bed with a ball of anxiety settling in the pit of her stomach, she tried to think of happier thoughts.

[castleofcuntdracula]

So I've been watching The Great (shout-out to @just-a-silly-little-guy for dragging me into it!) And watching hoult playing a guy obsessed with his baby is making me really want postcanon Renbecca babies. Not to be comphet about this but I DO love fankids and babies ever after... and I think it would be something he'd genuinely want? There's happy families on his vision board, and we know how much he regrets his failure as a father. Ramblings under the cut.

I think it would be a big step forward in his recovery, too- being stable enough, financially and mentally, to even consider having another kid. And I think Rebecca has considered it before, but never seriously- she doesn't have a mom, so it would probably be difficult for her to picture being one.

Once they're committed and have their shit a bit more together, I think she'd agree to it- and then they'd be on WILDLY different pages for a hot sec, because "starting a family" for Rebecca means 2.5 kids and a dog, and for Robert it means "I sure do miss hanging out with my sister and her THREE BACK TO BACK SETS OF TWINS". It's hilarious to me. She'd ask how many he's thinking about and he's like "Well, I know birthrates have fallen significantly since I was last married 🤔 so probably not more than five?"

They agree to one-maybe-two. The first pregnancy absolutely blows his mind because the sheer amount of progress that's been made in prenatal care. He'd 100% cry his eyes out at the first sonogram because he's just awed that you can SEE into the womb. He'd be taking this blurry incomprehensible black and white picture everywhere, showing it to everyone he knows like "🥹 that's our baby..." and his friends are like "that's great man, it looks like a bean."

It would also basically give him another anxiety disorder. There's been a lot of advances in maternal health since the 1920s, and his ex wife probably smoked a pack a day and drank while pregnant, because nobody knew that you shouldn't do that yet! Rebecca has to confiscate his phone so he doesn't go on Instagram and get himself hysterical over her eating pepperoni on pizza or candies with food dye. On the plus side, she will DEFINITELY have prenatal vitamins just completely on. Lock. (He brings them to her on a little china plate). The fretfulness would definitely bother her- it's not like she's suddenly made of glass! But he'd make up for it by being equally indulgent of her the entire time.

I think he'd be incredibly happy to have kids in the modern world, too- there's so much less they have to worry about in terms of disease and dangers, and they'll get to go to school all the way to 18, no matter what! If they have another daughter, she'll be able to do anything- she could be a doctor or an astronaut or even the president! Can her nursery be space or medicine or government themed?

All of his ideas for baby names are horribly outdated and all of Rebecca's are from a list she made when she was 14 and daydreaming about marrying one of the boys from supernatural, so they're out of luck there for a while- she doesn't want to name her baby Agatha or Eustace, but she also doesn't want to explain why they can't name it "Castiel".

I also don't think Rebecca would like being pregnant much- she likes that you get a baby at the end, and it's an exciting time for anyone, but that's hard to keep in mind when the little snot is kickboxing your organs all night. And she really wouldn't enjoy the way it alters/reduces her mobility, especially in the second half- she's pretty much five foot nothing and the average newborn is a third of that, let alone Renny's NBA all stars "one week old in 3mo clothes" sproglets. At one of the scans, the ultrasound tech says their baby "looks like they're gonna be tall! :)" and Rebecca just GLARES at him because she has to haul the kid around for another few months still.

They have a little girl and are both instantly besotted. Never shut up about her, total first time (for Rebecca at least) parent madness where the baby blinks in a new way and they both burst into tears of joy and grab the cameras. Robert having been on the night shift for a century means he's very useful in the newborn phase- he's sleep deprived anyway, waking up every two hours for feeds is nothing compared to a week stalking the streets all night for victims.

He'd probably be the stay at home parent, given that he doesn't legally exist- he's the absolute talk of the town at daycare dropoff and has to go full wife guy to defend his honour. This means that everyone at baby sensory and what have you had a fantastic impression of Rebecca before they meet her, because he can't stop gushing about how cool she is after he's started.

Rebecca is more neurotic than she'd expected about babies, and it causes her a lot of stress at first- she's the youngest sibling, so she has very little experience with them, and her daughter is so tiny and fragile and squishy! She gets better about it once baby is a bit less wispy looking and newborn-lanky, which I think would happen by 2-3 months. Kiddo has a lot of growing to do, and consequently gets delightfully chubby before shooting up like a weed as a toddler. Neither of them want to put her down EVER, to the point where she takes a little longer than average to be crawling and walking because she can only make it a few feet before someone scoops her up and transports her expeditiously to her destination.

Baby two is a couple years after the first, once they're confident that they can get a kid to running-around age without completely fucking up. Her older sister, thanks to the accidental attachment parenting from the sheer amount of snuggling and carrying, would be confident to the point of being slightly feral. By the time baby 2 is old enough to play with her the dynamic is very much as so:

They're smart on their own, but get them both in a room at the same time and their collective IQ is halved and someone ends up with their arm jammed to the elbow in the VCR tape slot.

Despite this, Robert manages to beg and plead his way into one (1) more, just one, this is the last one he P R O M I S E S, three is lots!

They have twins.

[giddlygoat]

some of my thoughts on drawing, learning the accordion, and how they apply to each other.

i have been drawing my whole life. the last time i can remember feeling genuinely ashamed of my artistic skills was when i was probably 12. at some point i was able to look at my art and realize it wasn’t anywhere near perfect, and i became okay with that. nowadays, i have no anxiety about posting my art or leaving a piece with flaws, because i like my style and i’m comfortable enough in my skills and the knowledge that there will always be room for improvement to allow myself to simply enjoy what i create.

i have always been fascinated by the accordion. around age 11 i started considering learning to play it. by 13 i saw one at an antique store and seriously considering buying it for a long time, but did not. as the years go on i find that artistic burnout is becoming more of a frequent issue with me, and i often find myself desperately wishing i had a gratifying way of expressing myself other than drawing.

i’m always humming, and doing the mouth trumpet, and clicking and clapping out tunes all day. singing and scatting are some of my favorite pastimes. i can do all this but it’s not the same as playing an instrument. i feel like it can never quite extend past my fingertips; like i’m cranking out all this energy and excitement but it can’t go anywhere. it’s like not being able to get past the sketch when you have a whole painting inside you.

about three months ago, i finally picked up the accordion. i don’t know how to read music. my understanding of the technical side of music is pathetic, although i have a good natural sense for it, and now, a good teacher. i am scared.

i have all the usual beginner issues: my hands don’t know where to go, i’m not used to the weight of the instrument, and it feels alien in a way, just to name a few.

there’s another problem, too. i’m good at drawing.

everywhere i go, i see things i want to paint. i’m taking pictures of the pickled jalapeños and carrots at work because i want to study how they interact with the opaque black plastic container, all little dynamic shapes of green and orange swimming in vinegar. i’m watching a cat stretch and yawn on the concrete and lay down in a sunbeam that looks too heavenly to be real - it gives me an idea for a sketch.

i look at the arms of the man loading hay bales with me, and try to commit to memory how the muscles move under the skin, what foot he puts his weight on, how he wipes his forehead and shifts his weight. it makes me want to draw pages of people doing mundane things, studying how weight and action and stylization works together to create something satisfying and alive. i want to do the beauty of the universe justice.

when i open procreate to draw, i am not thinking of anything. my hands know where to go, i don’t even have to look at the buttons or tools to know what i’m doing, and all these complicated layers interacting with each other and their applied effects and backgrounds etc come like second nature to me now.

the first day i used procreate, i was so overwhelmed, i was afraid to touch anything.

the first day i held an accordion, it was the same.

my problem is that i know how to look at art and examine why techniques work or not, and i don’t quite have those skills when it comes to music. sure, i can slap beautiful harmony onto any song, but heck if i know what notes they are. i couldn’t tell you what key the song is in or what defines a measure.

and i realized that while now i am looking through this frosted glass trying to make out the basic shapes behind it, one day, i will be able to peel back the mystery and truly understand not only how this instrument functions, but how music flows, too. because i see art in everything. i understand the weight of people and objects and how they would interact in a cartoon. the colors of a blooming cactus in my yard become lemony saturated in the early light and pale and dusty in the late evening. i can see the line of action in characters and better understand the composition behind paintings, and why it works.

it’s my hope, that as time spent with my accordion goes on, i will start to see music in everything, too. there’s nothing i want more than to understand it and speak its language as i do with art. i want to someday pick up my accordion and make up a melody as i would sketch out a doodle. this is the kind of stuff i think about all day.

[rosetintedgunman]

Oh! You Must be New.

Not that that's a bad thing, mind you. Everyone is new at some point. Even me! But it can be a bit of a problem when you find a blog that's been around in some capacity since 2018. There's a lot of gaps to fill in, and hopefully this post will help be a starting point.

While this is a Wilford rp and ask blog, no matter how busy or quiet it may be, it has been around for a long time. M.otherloving came out about a month or two after the blog was set up, and the accuracy of what I was writing meant this blog was on the right track - I was the only person in my circle at the time who didn't need to either make major headcanon changes or opt to abandon canon and go divergent. With every appearance, there's been no major tweaks that have been required to adjust the portrayal. To toot my own horn, it's been fairly spot on.

Between that and natural character development, this can mean that the blog could be a little... 'inaccurate' to expectations, and can cause a lot of confusion for those who aren't 'in the know'. So! Consider this a 101 on the character without needing to trawl through the gauntlet of a two-part bio (the second part isn't even finished yet....)

In brief, I kindly ask that you leave expectations of a reckless madman who fully personifies the "LOL XD RANDUM" and has no clue about anything going on at the door, please. If you want to compare him to a canon appearance, look more toward M.otherloving or Space.

For a lot more info to help get you started, read on.

-

While this Wilf (also known as 'Rose' when interacting with variants) is still eccentric and kooky, he is more grounded in nature. Chances to interact with others and maintain a somewhat normal sense of time flowing in the correct manner have started to help him feel more connected. Not only that, he's starting to get glimpses of his original life as William, and a later life of Wilson Jackson Bartholomew (or just 'Jack'). The latter I haven't gone into much detail yet in general, so don't worry about that. If you see him getting glimpses of these memories, he doesn't go into hysterics. That's important.

He is six foot three, and heavy built. The evidence of his past life as a soldier is there in his broad shoulders, a barrel chest and strong arms, as well as how he can hold himself. However, he's got a proper tubby belly, and this softness almost counteracts the threat of the almost unnatural strength that lies within. His moustache is either pure pink or black with pink tips depending on the day. He's got a curly mop of black hair that has a slight red-pink tint when the light shines on it just right. The only genuine traces of pink in his hair can be found in his fringe, which curls over his right eye. There's usually faint stubble across his jawline, and he flat-out refuses to wear glasses (he'll say it's because he doesn't want anyone missing out on his 'cute chocolate eyes'. Don't believe him. He just doesn't like them and won't humour the idea of contacts). Despite this, he's still athletic, and can move surprisingly fast if you aren't prepared.

He's still a reporter, though these days he's taken a bit of a back seat. His work in the studio is helping the Jims and others who are making their presence known on camera. When he does interview, that reckless, gun-wielding side comes out in full force... But it's more akin to an act than anything truthful to who he is.

Instead, his priority is the Moonlight Roller. It's the reclaimed disco setting of M.otherloving that was redecorated and given a whole new lease of life. I go into a LOT more detail here, but in brief: it is a roller rink, amusement arcade, diner, and bar that is located both in a real location and in between the worlds and stories. If a character needs a break, they'll find a door to the Roller.

Personality-wise, Wilf is still eccentric, but it's closer to a 'weird uncle' mixed with a cartoon character. He's normally upbeat and childish, though he does have his more serious moments. He'll still take time to voice whatever odd thought crosses his mind on the dash, or go directly to another blog if he wants an answer or opinion on something. And to my surprise, he's even tried to be the stereotypical 'bartender who listens to others' woes'. I never thought that would happen! How did that happen?? He used to be notorious for putting his foot in his mouth!

As for his abilities? He's got the abilities to lift things in and out of pocket dimensions. He always has a weapon on his person, even if there's little reason for it these days. He can blink out of existence or disappear if eyes are off him, and use doors as a way to teleport/take shortcuts. This can sometimes land him in different timelines or eras, not that he minds. He's got impeccable aim, and he usually only misses if he chooses to. That's not mentioning his ability to use any weapon after a brief examination with startlingly good skill.

By the way. You can kill him, but he won't stay dead. He'll come back to pester you about it in a few days.

-

This blog also has William, but I don't need to talk about any potential differences. What you saw in WKM is what you get, essentially. His height was rather unusual for his time, and he absolutely used this to his advantage to add to the intimidation factor. He was a loyal friend, but also not the nicest person to be friends with. And if he didn't know you? Good luck!

Sometimes, you may see someone called Liam. This is a 'what-if' timeline where Celine never arrived, resulting in William's death and him taking the role of 'the villain'. Despite the 'what-if', this was actually the intended plan, where William would die, and everyone else would leave, alive and safe. This goes into more detail about that. In brief, his main distinguishing factor is his paralysed left arm as a result of the fatal injury he received during the gun confrontation with the Detective.

[endless-ineffabilities]

Ineffable (Dream of the Endless x f!Reader) - Chapter 2: Devious

Also with Corinthian x f!Reader

Masterlist - Playlist

Everyone, please welcome your favourite charismatic miscreant, The Corinthian. Wonder what's in store for him and the Reader? Read on, fellow dreamers.

I wake up well rested. After the conversation with Dream in the library, I just wandered off into Fiddler's Green and lay down on the grass. There wasn't much work to be done in that moment, so I just thought it would be nice to reconnect with an old friend.

For reasons which are probably all too clear, Gilbert may be one of my favourite places to roam in the Dreaming. And I vaguely remember already unwittingly wandering there, years before I even met Gilbert. He once said that I look quite familiar, and this was in our second meeting, so I just jokingly breathed out, "Well, I'm glad I have a face you wouldn't see fit to forget."

Of course, once I moved back to London from living with Gilbert and Rose, I admit I had to find my footing once more. I had to re-enroll at UCL and come across some familiar faces I'd rather would not have encountered again. Uni was both a refuge and a bother, in my experience. But of to course, getting accepted into my BA in Classics was almost a miracle, considering my high school record back in America. This opportunity seemed the only avenue for which I would be able to develop my passion in the Latin language and its texts, but the people were.... meh, to say the least.

Now back in London, living in a humble little studio in Walthamstow, and struggling to piece through my thesis, I have to admit I miss waking up in the morning to Hal practicing their dramatic numbers in the living room, Barbie and Ken having a constant lovers' spat in the room next to me, and so on..

I plant my feet on the floor, and stretch. I stand, and it takes me about 10 steps to reach the modest, little coffee machine in my kitchen. I get it started, and wait.

My mind drifts to what Morpheus said the night before... "You are important to me."

Hmmm... something tingles up my spine - a feeling of warmth, excitement. At the very least, now I know that the attraction may not be one-sided after all.

Silly girl, my thoughts barge in, you mistake interest for genuine connection.

I am pushed out of my thoughts by the ring from the intercom. Who could it possibly be at this Godforsaken hour?

"Yes?" I press the button.

"Why, hello, darling..." a familiar voice drawls.

"Cor?!" I hear myself squeak. Damn, I really do need that coffee.

"The one and only."

"What are you doing here?" I ask, but I have a feeling I am eager to see him, no matter the reason. Well. Shows you how messed up I am.

The Corinthian and I first crossed paths nearly 2 years ago, before I was even fully accepted into the fold in the Dreaming. Gil, Rose and I had driven to some hotel after receiving an anonymous call about her brother Jed. Looking back, it's understandable why I sensed something was wrong when we arrived.

They were having some sort of 'Cereal Convention', regardless of the fact that there was nothing even remotely related to cereal in sight. I had a hard time describing it at the time but the people made me feel queasy, especially the guy in the check-in booth with the name tag, Fun Land. Even Gil looked shaken after walking off for a few minutes, and he had managed to catch me in the lobby before leaving and stammered, "Be very careful, and look out for Jed and Rose!"

Minutes later, I bumped into a tall man with dirty-golden hair, and I was so amped up with adrenaline that I cried out, "Fuck!".

"Well, excuse me." he laughed, "That was my bad, I guess."

"Sorry," I felt embarrassed, straightened up and got a good look at him, "Nice glasses." I remarked.

"Ah, well that's nice of you to say." He leaned back, as if assessing me, "You're... different."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what's a beautiful girl like you doing... here, of all places?" He spoke as if he had never lacked confidence a day in his life.

"It's a Cereal Convention, isn't it? Maybe I like cereal." I nervously said and thought, What a flirt.

He looked down at the name tag I was wearing, which Rose had managed to nab from the Welcome desk.

"The Siren, huh? As fitting as that sounds, I have a feeling you don't belong here. So maybe you should leave before it gets..."

"There you are!" He was interrupted by a wiry woman in a tailored suit, with a shorter, tense-looking man, "We have to introduce you to some people."

"Be right there." He politely said.

He glanced back at me once more, and it seemed as if he had more to say, but held it in.

"Good day, ma'am," He tilted his head, "Take care of yourself."

Weird...and strangely well-spoken, I had thought. The tone of his voice was almost akin to being melodic, reeling you in.

I would come to understand much later why he had warned me to leave. Jed, Rose and I found ourselves chased by Fun Land down a hallway. He had us trapped in a corner, but I had become so livid, thinking of what he could have done to Jed, what he had done to so many other kids...

I let out an agitated scream, and felt a rush of energy emanate from me. The lights flickered wildly, and he was flung a few feet backwards, hitting a wall with a crack.

Shit, I thought, I had done it again.

The Corinthian strode in from the end of the hallway, as if he had been there all this time.

"I thought I told you to leave." He said to me, as if almost annoyed.

"Oh well," He shrugged, and grinned maniacally, "The more, the merrier."

Of course, this was all before he had to be eliminated by Morpheus, and later reincarnated to be more loyal and subdued, and less... well... homicidal.

He returned to doing his duties in the Dreaming, where we crossed paths once more.

"It's you." He said, as if he wasn't surprised at all of my presence. Or of how I was able to move and do as I please in Morpheus' kingdom.

I had walked in the central hall, ready to report on the affairs of several dreamers that I was tasked to handle for that time.

"I knew she was special," he directed to Morpheus and Lucienne, "and now here she is."

He had looked highly amused. Morpheus looked back and forth between myself and The Corinthian, and it's safe to say he did not share his amusement.

We managed to see each other time and again in the Dreaming, and we've become quite familiar that I now see him as a... friend, of sorts. I was initially cautious around him, reckoning with all the things that he'd done, but I've come to know of who he is, made anew. In some ways, perhaps this was how The Corinthian was meant to be all along. He retained his calculated brand of deviousness, which seeped in ways such as in the musings that he would share with me. But I can see where he's coming from. I understand him, I think. Besides, I can't claim to being a complete saint myself.

I've also grown to calling him Cor instead of his official-sounding moniker.

"I just feel like I'm addressing a Bible verse sometimes." I grumbled once, to which he let out a guffaw. Don't get me wrong, I do like his name just as it is, but I liked the fact that only I called him by something else. It feels more...intimate.

Strangely, I barely saw him in the past few months, both in the Dreaming and the Waking World. I tried searching for him, when I was sifting through the Dreaming, but I couldn't.

I once came back to the library to find His Great Lordship sat there in all his solemn glory. He really looks like he needs Aspirin and some sunlight sometimes, that anthropomorphic personification. And perhaps a hug. Or two.

"You should stop trying to find him," he said, "He's occupied. And besides, considering his track record, he may not be the best companion for you."

"You made him," I pointed out, "and he's better now. You made him better."

He stared at me long and hard. "Nevertheless..."

He went back to what he was reading, and I walked off to find a volume that I needed. Why was he being so dismissive?

-------

"Are you going to let me in, or should I just manifest myself in your room?" Cor's voice echoes through the intercom. I manage to collect my thoughts, and press the opening buzzer.

Half a minute later, I open the door.

"Hey there, trouble." He leans on the doorframe.

"Trouble yourself." I go in for a hug. It's been a while.

He laughs warmly. "I can see that trouble missed her favourite Nightmare."

He walks into my flat, and takes everything in.

"Cozy." He comments.

"Don't say a word," I point at him, "It's... nice."

"Hey, I never said it wasn't." He puts his hands up, and sits down on my bed.

"What are you doing in the Waking World anyway? Morpheus know you're here?" I walk to the kitchen and finally fix myself a cup coffee.

"Well, I was looking for you, actually." he responds, "And no, I think Lord Morpheus may be dealing with something else at the moment."

"Oh?" I sit next to him.

"What do you say we go on a trip?" he proposes, nudging me with an elbow, "I actually have something I have to do in the Waking World. Loose ends to tie up and all that."

"I'm listening..." I mumble, taking a sip of coffee.

"It'll be fun." He declares excitedly.

"You know that really doesn't tell me anything, Cor," I complain, "I haven't seen you for months and now you want to go on some roadtrip?"

"Precisely." He says, not missing a beat. As if his plan was completely ordinary.

I think to my work, my unfinished thesis. I glance around at the state of disarray of my tiny home, which bothers me. And what about the mission I have to undertake with Morpheus?

Well, I suppose my thesis can wait. Who knows? Maybe getting some fresh air may be just what I need to find the right words to put to the page.

As for Morpheus... I'll see him in my dreams.

"Fine." I give in.

"Perfect." Cor smiles widely, and I found myself having missed this sight.

"But first...." I demand, "You help me clean up." I gesture around with one hand.

He breathes out, and after a pause, strides to the closet where I keep the cleaning supplies. He pulls out the vacuum, and I giggle at the whole picture.

"Stop it." He says firmly, feigning annoyance.

"You're actually doing this?" I ask, incredulous.

"Well, this might ruin my fuckin' suit. But... anything for you, trouble."

End of Chapter 2.

All right, that was quite heavy on the Corinthian x reader side but his character is just sooo. . delicious.

The dynamic of Dream x reader x Corinthian will be shown in the next one!

Also, this was barely proofread so I may make some tweaks later if needed.

How do you guys like The Corinthian? Would you like more of him? Or shall the focus be on Dream?

[awakeshedreams]

sugar and spice ( 1 )

pairing : resident bad boy!jjk x model student!reader

setting : highschool!au x stepbrother!au

summary :

a messy highschool!au x stepbrother!au where model student reader who has quite a few dirty little secrets sees her world take an unexpected turn when her mother comes home one day with an engagement announcement, to the father of none other than the school's resident bad boy.... Jeon Jungkook.

genre : smut, for laughs, kinda pornish, slow burn with collosaly overwhelming sexual tension

rating: soft m ( for now ) due to adult content

warnings : unconventional relationship of sexual nature, tropes and clichès, teenagers partaking in porn-esque activities, made up things with made up people happening in a made up world, don't like don't read XD

wordcount : 2.3K

a/n : i've been fighting in a long standing war and I have lost. the man known as jeon jungkook had his foot on my neck for years and today, I have finally submitted to my fate and surrendered to his reign.

yes. after a hundred years, i'm writing again. specifically, writing for bts. particularly, writing for jungkook. its been a long time coming.

life just took over and I transitioned into an adult and kind of grew out of the state of mind I was in before. but. sigh. jeon jungkook has been tormenting me the whole time. it was only a matter of time before i relapsed honestly.

so here I am again. in mind, body and spirit, a different person from who I was before but still the same in the sense that with the way bts have my whole heart, jk will always be the demon in the corner of my room that I invite to bed for a cuddle even though it's (probably really) not good for me.

do not misconstrue. I love him more than I can say. but. sigh. he has me in a chokehold, loves. please try to understand where I'm coming from.

anyways, enough with this ranting. you all came here for the nitty gritty so let me not hold you hostage with my dilemma rambling any longer. here's to the first bts fic i've posted in literal years. introducing- sugar and spice.

1 2

Unless they told someone, no one would have been able to guess it.

At school they were complete strangers.

She was the nice head girl with a clean record, all smiles and straight A’s. He was the mysterious bad boy with a track record, all tatted up with bruised knuckles.

She wore plaid skirts with neat pleads in them and pastel sweaters with bows at the collar. He wore jeans with rips in them and leather jackets with studs.

They couldn't have been any more different.

As far as anyone was concerned, they existed on two extreme ends of a vast spectrum.

What they didn't know was that they shared a dirty little secret.

.

You were a girl with many dirty secrets.

For instance, you used to sell nudes online. It was a side hustle you did.

Not because you needed money.

Your mom was a renowned doctor so there was more than enough of that in your life.

Not because you needed validation from people online either.

Even without the constant compliments and the praises you knew you were visually blessed with a pretty face and a nice body too.

All things considered, you simply thought you had a nice pair of tits and you took pictures of them sometimes.

Posting the shots you snapped online came much later when you heard about this website where people were getting paid crazy money for posting racy things.

‘It’s just so degrading…’ It was one of your friends, June, who sneered, pretty nose scrunched up. She fixed her long ponytail and rolled her brown eyes while looking in the mirror at her locker. ‘Who would do such a thing, am I right?’

She said this, but June was the girl who has slept with more boys than she could count on her two hands. And those were the ones she told you about.

Like every other time, you said nothing. Even when it carried on to lunch with the rest.

‘Pretty desperate if you ask me.’ Mei the stellar track runner shrugged casually as she stretched her limbs like routine.

‘Where are their parents?’ Nina the library nerd shook her head in disapproval as she fixed her glasses so it sat right on the bridge of her nose.

‘Um… I don’t think it’s … appropriate… to talk about ….’ Kiko the one who always carried a cross and bible around mumbled into her sleeve.

All your friends spoke of it in derision and repulsion of course. This was a school for proper children so they were proper girls. At least they were supposed to be.

Regardless the conversation sparked a curiosity in you.

So you made an account and uploaded your first picture. Nothing bizarre. Just your tits in a pretty lace bra.

You made sure to keep your face out of the frame because that was the smart thing to do and you were nothing if not the smartest student in school.

In all honesty, you weren’t expecting anything out of it. In fact, in between work with student council and tutoring your juniors with finals right around the corner, you even forgot about it for an entire month.

It was by a complete whim that you decided to open the app while you’d been unwinding at your desk following a tedious day at school.

To say you were amused by the response you found waiting for you would have be a grave understatement.

You were staring at the four figure digit that now sat in your bank account.

Reading through the comment section was even more interesting.

There were all sorts of people there who had all sorts of things to say. Ranging from honestly sweet to downright dirty.

You had never been brought to tears laughing in her life before until then.

It was just so funny to see people misbehave and lose their minds over a pair of tits.

From then on it just sort of became a thing.

.

But that wasn't the worse of your secrets.

You were making a name for yourself on the crude web months later.

The next step was naturally to move from making taking pictures to making videos. Since you was already in too deep you didn’t see why not.

So you upgraded and opened another account. An amateur one where your touched yourself for an audience.

You were no prude.

You might have never been touched by a boy before but you had touched yourself plenty times. Stress and frustration came hand in hand with being head girl. Since you couldn’t quite vent it out at the annoying troublemakers at school, this was your second best option.

Third was watching porn, but that was mostly when you were extremely bored.

But that wasn’t where that little endeavor ended.

Later on it became a lot more risqué.

.

It all started when your mom hit you with a marriage announcement.

She met a guy on her business trip who she really liked and she was convinced he was the one.

Your mom had a tragic history of being a bad judge of character.

You’ve had this conversation at least five times since you became old enough to understand that boys and girls who were just friends didn’t kiss and sleep with each other.

Most times, it felt like she was doing it because she thought you needed a dad around.

You might have once, when you were younger and your mom was too busy with work to be there. But she worked from home these days and you were soo busy with school to worry about things like that.

This time it was like she was doing it for her. You were glad.

Your mom looked genuinely happy when she spoke about this guy.

Who were you to get in the way?

.

She spent almost the whole weekend in the kitchen. It was the longest you’ve seen her in there in your entire life.

She was excited for the dinner on Sunday.

Mr Jeon was the name of the chosen man.

He was coming over with his kid. A son, his only family. His wife passed away years ago.

You wore the dress your mom picked out for you, something cream in color and off the shoulders that brushed your knees. She looked pretty in her champagne dress. It was different from the office slacks and loose blouses you were used to seeing her in.

You stood by her at the door while the guests came through.

Lifting your head from a polite bow, you found herself staring straight into an achingly familiar pair of glinting dark eyes and went completely still.

‘Sweetie,' Your mother said sounding delighted, a soft hand on your stiff shoulder. 'This is Mr Jeon and his son Jungkook.’

Ah. Fuck.

‘Jeon dear, this is my daughter. Isn’t she lovely?’

.

Dinner was a mild affair, with small talk and the occasional clinking of cutlery on fine china.

From the outside looking in, you probably looked the picture perfect family already.

Only if no-one looked close enough.

Arms crossed, tongue in cheek. Your discomfort could be detected from miles away.

The two adults were oblivious.

The dark eyed boy with the slightest wave to his nape touching, brow grazing, ear covering onyx hair sat across you though; he took note of this with a passing glance and wordlessly returned to his food.

Jeon Jungkook had a countenance that betrayed his reputation.

Even though you’ve never talked, you knew plenty about him and you were sure he knew a lot about you too.

You went to the same school.

Dressed as he was in a crisp white dress shirt buttoned at the wrist and dark tailored pants with a fine belt on, it might have been hard to tell what kind of person he really was.

You lifted her gaze from your plate to look study him wordlessly, idly twisting the noodles with your fork.

People either called him the black sheep or the dark cloud but for you, Jeon Jungkook was the school’s resident lone wolf.

He smoked in the secluded areas on campus, sometimes playing his guitar. Beat up people who got on his nerves, sometimes using his guitar. Slept in class the rare times he was there, many times on his guitar.

Being his senior, you had never seen any of any of that for yourself. But you received plenty reports weekly to come to a sound conclusion.

There was no way people hated him enough to join hands in solidarity and make this all up.

It was quite the contrary actually. He had an alarming number of fans.

On the surface level you couldn’t see why. Most times you saw him, he looked bored out his mind and honestly, intimidating.

Maybe it was the tattoos. Or the ripped skinny jeans. Or the leather jackets with studs.

Maybe it was the domineering height and fit frame and structured face.

Maybe it was the intense dark eyes or the silky ruffled hair.

Even then, you failed to see the irresistible appeal in him. All those things that made him up only added to his unapproachable aura.

Bottom line was, he was bad news.

.

You didn’t want to be a spoil sport.

But how much of a thug your mom’s boyfriend’s son was shouldn’t be something that would make her like him less.

They were both their own people. Right ?

It was just that you just didn’t want her to be shocked and devastated if something happened later. When it happened.

Yet it seemed the serious conversation would have to wait.

After dinner your mom suggested you head to the living room to chat over wine and cheese.

You stayed back to do take out the dishes.

Earlier, your mom had stood to do it instead at first.

‘Don’t bother with that, dear.’ She reached for the plates in your hands. ‘Let me do it.’

‘It’s okay, mom.’ You smiled a little. ‘This is your night. I’ll meet you in the living room.’

'Sweetie...' Your mom looked close to tears. ‘But there’s so much of it…’

‘Jungkook,’ his father's voice had cut through the moment. He was a serious man in a crisp suit with a stoic countenance. His voice was just naturally authoritarian without him trying ‘Give her a hand.’

Jungkook stood, almost robotically.

‘It’s fine.’ You said. Politely. Nicely. Tightly. ‘I can handle this much.’

You left without another word.

That had been moments ago and now you were done with cleaning.

You stood at living room entrance for a while, taking in the scene.

The two adults were exchanging moon eyes and whispering in each other’s ears at the love seat.

Jungkook was sitting on a solo seat, but he was on his phone, completely unbothered by what was happening.

Your mom seemed to think it was the perfect time to pull out the photo album right then and there upon seeing you.

It was embarrassing but at least you knew you didn’t have to worry about the pictures spreading at school.

Jungkook was looking, picking up a picture occasionally to rove over, but he wasn’t the type to do that.

He also wasn’t the type to stare but you felt his glance shifting to you and lingering multiple times.

Once, you caught his eyes and he just stared at you across the coffee table wordlessly with a curious tilt to his head, idly flipping a picture of you dressed as a knight in glitter shining armor for Halloween at eight in his hands.

Honestly, it was starting to get annoying.

But you endured. For your mom’s sake.

.

Your alarm went off at exactly ten.

As subtly as you could, you excused yourself with an apology to the guests, saying you weren't really feeling well.

In hindsight you probably should have used a better excuse.

Your mom was notorious when it came to worrying, especially when it comes to your health.

Also, you probably should’ve locked the door before undressing just for good measure since people were over.

But in the moment, you were too busy setting your camera up where you were kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed to be concerned about that.

That day you were testing out a new toy.

.

Distractedly, you took note of a couple of people asking you if that was your boyfriend’s shirt you had lifted over your tits.

You ignored them.

Couldn’t a girl own an oversized tee without getting any flack?

Trivial comments like that aside, a good majority of the audience are fawning over how wet you were and how perfect you bouncing tits look being played with.

Your head fell back and your eyes fluttered shut.

You were sitting there, knees raised to your chest and legs splayed, your gushing pussy in full display where the toy was stuffed deep into her tightness, vibrating pleasantly.

‘I’m close…’ you mumbled throatily, squeezing your tits and pinching your stiff nipples in between your moving fingers. You moved your hips move faster, feeling the toy buzz against fluttering walls. You took a hand off one of your tits to rub at your engorged clit. ‘Fuckfuckfuck…’

Deep in your high, you didn’t hear the door open and close with a foreboding click.

You only heard your name being called by a deep, smooth voice through the heady haze.

Instantly you stilled.

When you snapped your head to look over her shoulder Jungkook was there, hands in his pockets, leaning against your doorframe with his sleeves drawn up to his elbows, muscle roped, inked skin on full display.

When he tilted his head to the side a little, appraisively, you dared to say as a quaking chill ran down your spine and your entire body felt like it was about to burst into flames, a bit of his hair fell over his face.

His eyes were like two black in the dark as he took you in, dragging his gaze up and down your exposed body languidly.

In the back of your mind, you wished the ground would part and swallow you whole.

‘Your mom,' he starts, capturing your attention wholly, dark gaze finally flickering to your face, his voice suddenly lower, hoarser. ‘She sent me over to check on you.’

It took you a moment to realize where you were, who you were, who he was.

It was like a bucket of cold water had been dropped over your head.

Jeon Jungkook, the school's resident trouble maker, soon to be your step brother, just walked in on you fingering yourself in in front of a recording camera.

Well. Yeah.

You gulped.

You were royally fucked.

depending on the response I get I might ( most probably will ) delete this. not because I'm ashamed of my work. because I'm embarrassed of myself. I really swore to never write again and here I am. sigh. yes, I have seen my previous works and noticed just how terrible they were and this is a big reason why. so sorry for putting you through that. a million apologies.

also, that's right. I have adopted a new style which might not be to everyone's liking. another reason why.

anyways, if you liked this filth ( i know it seems mild but I can tell you it's very likely gonna get worse ) please idk uh... fuck this isn't ao3. hm.

like and drop by in the ask box if you liked it and want to see more. it makes me happy. its like serotonin fuel to me.

have a nice day. see you next time ( maybe ). stay fresh. yeah. 💜💜.

[liesoverthec]

OG 911 Character Details from Canon Pt 2

Hi y’all I’m back! I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who reblogged the last details post - I sort of just thought people would like it and it would die, so to see it travel and hopefully reach more writers was so great so thank you again!

Details under the cut since I went a little crazy 😅 and if this is your first time seeing this, the first part, and any future parts, can be found under this tag here!

Quick note before I get to the details - always, ALWAYS take details from dialogue or plot over details from the set or props if they contradict each other. The writers have the ultimate say over what happens on the show/for the characters, so whatever they say goes, even if it goes against something props has already laid down (eg, Chim’s birthday, sorry Libra crew. He’s an Aries or a Pisces). So keep that in mind for the future in case some of these details I have which are from props/set are changed in the future, or if you’ve noticed something yourself!

Also if you have questions, I am MORE than happy to answer them, although if you leave them in the tags on this post I’m probably gonna lose them, so if it’s something you’d genuinely like an answer to, drop it in my inbox! Besides my standard “ask” tags, I’m also tagging asks about canon details with this tag here. Every time I make a big post like this, I’m going to link all the asks I’ve gotten since the last post, but if you’re looking for more info in the mean time, that’s the other spot to look!

Buck has a grill on his patio.

Eddie doesn’t hang Christopher’s art on the fridge - instead it is either hung on the corkboard in Chris’ room to the left of the door, or Eddie puts it in an actual frame and hangs it using a hammer/nails in Christopher’s room. All the Diaz family has on their fridge is a bunch of bendy people magnets. (I absolutely ADORE him putting all this effort into treating Christopher’s art like it’s something you’d buy from a professional artist).

Info on everyone’s ages can be found here. (Little more discussion of Chim’s situation here).

Albert has a bachelor’s degree! I don’t know in what though, except that it’s some field for which is a Master’s is useful.

Athena was in a sorority in college, Delta Sigma Theta. Their website describes them as “ ...a sisterhood comprised primarily of Black, college-educated women ... [that] considers the issues impacting the Black community and boldly confronts the challenges of African Americans and, hence, all Americans ”, which I love for Athena, and feel is very in-character for her at that time in her life!

Chim is an aviators dude. When he wears sunglasses, they’re always aviators.

Athena also wears nothing but aviators.

Bobby wears square aviators.

Eddie, on the other hand, always wears Wayfarers.

Buck either doesn’t really like sunglasses or he constantly forgets he owns them, since we’ve only seen him wear them once in 60 eps, in a move I’m pretty sure was ONLY for dramatic effect.

Hen’s sunglasses change style over the seasons like her regular glasses do, but she tends to like browline sunglasses.

Info on Christopher’s school can be found here!

There are two colors of dispatch polo, and there doesn’t seem to be any rhythm or reason for who wears what. Maroon - Maddie and Linda. Blue - Josh and May. Jamal has actually worn both maroon and blue, so it doesn’t seem to be TOTALLY set in stone although I’ve never seen anyone else switch. Sue is too badass to wear a dispatch shirt.

Both Bobby and Eddie drive 4 door pickups. Bobby’s is navy. Eddie specifically has a black, 2020 GMC Denali 1500 pickup truck (in case you want to specifically look up what the inside of it looks like or what features it has 😂)

Info on the 118’s medical certifications can be found here.

Correction to Eddie’s living situation from last post: no next door neighbors, but instead UPSTAIRS neighbors. (Pointed out by Abigail in this ask). Also since someone else was wondering the notes of the last post - no, there is absolutely no discussion on the show of whether or not Eddie rents the apartment or owns it. But based on the fact that it’s 1) LA and 2) an apartment, my guess would be he rents it.

When Maddie isn’t feeling like herself, she tends to straighten her hair rather than curl it. It seems to be more when she’s uncertain about her place in her own and other people’s lives, rather than just when she’s simply worried - eg it’s straight in 2B, when she’s uncertain if she wants to continue working as a dispatcher/is unsure about her relationship with Chim.

For work, Chim, Eddie and Buck all use black duffel bags with a LAFD patch on the top. Hen uses several different cute bags, and Bobby seems to have a plain black duffel bag.

Watches - Bobby, Athena, Chim, Hen and Buck all wear their watch on their left wrist (but Athena ONLY wears hers for work, she takes it off at home.) Eddie wears his on his right wrist, and Maddie doesn’t wear one.

Chim (and Maddie by default) literally still have the exact same couch as in the pilot. (Which means that Chim has cuddled Tatiana on that couch, AND Albert has had sex on it. TIME TO GET A NEW ONE, BUCKLEY-HANS 😂)

The 118 has five different rigs - the engine (E118), the ladder truck (T118), two ambulances and the captain’s truck. 95% of the time, when the team is chilling in the cab of a rig and chatting (eg the ‘stuck under a live telephone pole’ scene in Jinx), they’re in the engine, not the truck. (Which I personally learned recently are NOT interchangeable terms!)

Athena and Michael got married when Athena was 37.

If you’d like to give Maddie a full name beyond “Maddie”, you should use Madeline. (I know, I know, in 4x04 she says Maddie is the name on her birth certificate, and that you should never use props details if they contradict script details, but I always thought that was a super weird exchange in 4x04 which could be explained by Maddie getting a nickname since she was born when Margaret and Phillip, you know, actually loved their kids and showed it, so of course Buck doesn’t get one, and in 4x04, Maddie was trying to avoid the entire issue of why she got one and Buck didn’t. But! Do what you want, and use Madeline as the full version of Maddie if you’d like, since that’s what’s on the BOLO in 2x13 😂)

Athena’s call sign is 727 L30, but she doesn’t have a specific squad car - the number changes throughout the series.

Chim really likes chewing gum, but he’s the only one out of the entire family!

The station has an Xbox One S, and it’s white.

In the real LAFD, there are stations 1 through 114. To avoid confusion while filming on the streets (I’m assuming), our fictional LAFD never uses the number of a real station. So if you want another station for a fic, and you want something that would be real in OUR universe, use the numbers 115 and above. They’ve gone as high as 221 in our universe.

Battalions - station 118 is in Battalion 7, which is also not a battalion in real Los Angeles. The 118 has interacted w/ Battalion 1, which is a real battalion, but other ‘non-real which makes them more likely for our universe’ battalions include numbers: 3, 8, 13, 16, 19 and above.

S1 Buck knew the term Jedi, but based on context, didn’t understand AT ALL the context provided by Star Wars, so there’s another edge of his pop culture limits for you.

Chim is the most tech-savvy out of everyone, hands down.

Athena has a VERY active Twitter account.

Abuela’s house number is 8902. I don’t have a street name for you unfortunately though. :/

Athena’s favorite flowers are white roses. None of the other women are really flower people.

Michael likes to wear purple.

When they’re at a call, Buck does pretty much all of the stuff with the hammer and the saw. Eddie does all the work needed with the drill.

Harry goes to Meadowbrook Elementary.

Buck lives on the fourth floor of his apartment building, across the hall from Apt. 416. The lovely @lovelessmotel found this listing for what is more or less the apartment. What happened was: the set crew rented this apartment for the one episode at the end of s2 when Buck moved in, and then over the summer before s3 built their own set of it, and changed some things - eg giving him an island, and moving the sink to a second counter against the far wall, you can see the changes here in this amazing gif set by the awesome Austen, but the listing should let you click around a little more upstairs and figure out dimensions better than what the show provides!

When Athena and Hen go out to eat together, it’s always fast food burgers and fries.

Waffles are Athena’s favorite food, and tiramisu is her favorite dessert.

Every takeout we’ve seen Buck eat has always been in a Chinese food takeout container, and we know he likes Thai food the best. EXCEPT! The one time we see him eat takeout with Eddie and Christopher, they have pizza. So take from that what you will......

Eddie has a cell phone and a landline.

Chim is a shameless multiple texter.

Chim and Bobby sleep closest to the door in their respective bedrooms (both right side of the bed if you are standing at the foot, facing the headboard), and Athena and Maddie sleep furthest away from the door (left side).

Some canon last names for other firefighters at the station in case you wanna add more people to a fic - Mitchell, Sanchez, Serrano (woman), Porter, Meyers (woman), Maxwell, Voyta

Hen and Karen really love decorating their house with dark/red wood.

Karen is Mommy and Hen is Mama.

Bobby has a brother, and a grandmother, and that’s literally ALL we know about his family outside of Marcy and the kids.

Evidence points to Eddie being the oldest child in his family.

Karen has multiple brothers (no sisters), but no idea how many - just that one of them is named Trey, and one of them lives in LA and has kids. They might be the same brother and they might not be.

Both Hen and Athena are only children.

Athena has been on the police force for 30 years.

Christopher and Denny are the same age (born in 2011), and Harry is two years older than them.

Michael lives in apartment 308.

The bank in this universe is CalAm.

Hen and Karen have a picture of Denny, May and Harry on their fireplace mantel.

Eddie having a black thumb + a lot of plants in his living room = him buying fake plants bc he likes the aesthetic ™ or someone (cough Carla cough) is taking care of them for him.

The COVID timeline in OG’s universe is fucked up compared to the real world’s, so it shouldn’t be used as a way to measure time! They just throw it in wherever it makes sense for the story they want to tell (eg the vaccines in s4 ep 8), since s3 was both done before COVID hit but also airing while it was happening. It makes absolutely no sense for May to graduate in March nor for Chris to be going to what is specifically labeled summer camp, and the vaccine plotline was INCREDIBLY early, even for real life, so don’t use anything from that as a measure of time. I’ve found except in specific examples, eg the two tsunami episodes, it’s very safe to say every episode covers a week - fall holidays on the show line up with their real life counterparts, indicating about the same amount of time is passing for us and them.

On that note - Jee-Yun was born in late January, early February 2021. (Conceived in Pinned, which was end of March/beginning of April, meaning Maddie was around a month along at May’s graduation in May ➡ 42 weeks + 3 days from then = late Jan/early Feb. Which unfortunately means we most likely won’t see her birthday celebrated on screen. If we assume she was conceived on the date Pinned aired, aka the very sexy hotel scene, then January 21st or 22nd would be Jee’s birthday, depending on if she was born after midnight or not.

Buck has had at least one other Jeep between the one Maddie gave him, and the one he has now, which means that when he needs a new car, he is purposefully choosing Jeeps.

I hope this was all as interesting/enjoyable to you as it was to me! And just to repeat - I love answering questions so pls let me know if you have any at all ❤

🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝

Tagging: @buckbuckley

[meltwonu]

| 𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔩 𝔦 𝔪𝔢𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 |     [CHAPTER 5]     [FINAL]

pairing; fratboy!wonwoo x reader

this chapter’s notes; fratboy!wonwoo, dom!wonwoo, restraints, blindfolds, daddy!kink, dirty talk, sex toys, using panties as a gag, forced orgasms, squirting! 🥴💕oMG YOU GUYS I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER WTF 😭😭😭 I just wanna say thank you so much for all the love and support you all have given me while writing Caffeine and Until I Met You I really cannot believe any of this… It’s crazy to me that you guys liked this fratboy wonwoo au so much… I really appreciate it! And expect some spin off chapters in the future! I already have 3 planned ☠️ Also, I mention it all the time but I never expect any of my fics to get this much love so every time I’m just shocked 😭 literally sitting here blushing just thinking about it 😭😭💕dfsdffds Also this is almost 4500 words so… strap in 😎🥴 Enjoy the last chapter, inbox roundup tmr and I love you so so so so much 💕

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 COMPLETE

Wonwoo stares at himself in the mirror, lips pursed and brows furrowed.

“I don’t know.”

Mingyu and Minghao both sigh; the latter throwing his arms up in defeat when Wonwoo grimaces in the mirror’s reflection. “Hyung, you haven’t liked anything we dressed you in. Why don’t you trust us?”

Mingyu places his hands on Wonwoo’s shoulders - squeezing the padding in the blazer as he meets the older male’s stare in the mirror.

“This is a date, right?”

“I mean… Yeah? I guess?” Wonwoo mumbles, a little bit shy. “I just don’t want her to think I’m trying too hard. I’m not trying to propose to her, you know. Just trying to get in the foot in the door towards the right direction.”

Minghao steps forward, sighing and shaking his head.

“Yeah, that’s true. But also… Isn’t think your first, real, official date with her? Don’t you want it to be special?”

This time Wonwoo laughs at the pair's dramatics - already shrugging off the blazer as Mingyu’s hands fall from his shoulders.

“God, the two of you make it seem like I’ve never dated a day in my life.”

“Hyung, aren’t you also kind of acting like that yourself? You asked us to help you dress for it in the first place.”

A crimson flush paints Wonwoo’s cheeks at Mingyu’s words; lips pressing into a firm line as he avoids their shit eating grins.

Goddamn it.

“Whatever, just show me other outfits you guys have.”

Wonwoo tells you to meet him in front of the library at 10AM.

‘It’s somewhere familiar.’ He says.

You’d rolled your eyes but agreed - already standing in front of the familiar doors ten minutes earlier than your agreed meeting time.

Part of you was extremely giddy and excited and the other parts of you were nervous and anxious at what Wonwoo had planned for today.

‘Did you have any suggestions for our date?’

Wonwoo bites the inside of his cheek as he sends you the text - palms clammy as he sighs.

‘You should ask for her opinion, hyung. Let her know you value her!’ Mingyu had said.

Wonwoo knows that.

But he blames being away from home a little too long for his airheadedness about it all. Tells himself it’s because he was gone for so long that he doesn’t really know how to act anymore.

Deep down inside, Wonwoo knows it’s really just because you make his heart do backflips when you smile at him and he just never knows how to respond except by shooting you an awkward tight lipped smile of his own.

He’ll call you beautiful all day long and praise you until you beg him to stop but something about the candid moments in between the pleasure that are the moments that make him feel like he’s falling in love for the first time all over again.

But Wonwoo wouldn’t quite admit that to you right now.

‘What would your ideal date be, Wonwoo?’

He runs late by ten minutes.

Soft curses spill from his lips the entire time he jogs over - the flower bouquet in his clammy hand getting crushed slightly at the death grip he has on it.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry I’m late!”

Wonwoo rambles on about how Minghao wouldn’t stop chasing him with a bottle of hairspray but your shaking pupils can only focus on the poor bouquet of flowers being throttled in the midst of Wonwoo’s animated retelling.

“A--are those for m-me?” You whisper; cutting him off as his eyes flit down to his hand.

“O-oh, um, yes, f-for you…” He passes you the bouquet - a shy smile on his face when you take it from his hands.

He’d picked them out himself after deciding on his own that he wanted to do something special for you. 

Wanted it to mean something important.

“A dried flower bouquet?”

Wonwoo smiles sheepishly as he scratches the back of his head.

Was it too cheesy?

“They’re already dried so they’ll technically last forever now.”

You’re glad, for once, that you can manage to hold in the scream that almost escapes you when you look up to Wonwoo’s bespectacled face.

“O-oh… Thank you, Wonwoo.”

You want to learn about Wonwoo.

What he likes and dislikes and what he likes to do in his free time. You have a vague idea of it all, but you want to hear it from him directly. 

You want him to turn to you and openly talk to you like you’ve been lovers for much longer.

He holds your hand as he guides you through the museum, but he’s oddly quiet and aloof when you try to pull him into conversations.

“Wonwoo, I--”

“Hey look, it’s a Hannah Höch piece. She’s one of the artists that pioneered that collaging thing Mingyu likes to do.” You lose him again as he reads off a biography off the wall and you can’t help but furrow your brows at his back.

You’d ask him over lunch.

The two of you spend a good few hours at the museum.

Although, admittedly, you spend more of that time following Wonwoo around as he silently admires the pieces instead of talking to you.

But by the time lunch is rolling around, he walks you over to a small hole in the wall cafe; flowers adorning the entrance and large windows letting in the sunlight as the two of you sit in a small nook away from most of the other customers.

“So, I--”

“Wonwoo, can I ask you a question?”

He tilts his head in mild confusion at your perplexed tone. “Sure?”

It takes a few seconds of you opening and closing your mouth, unsure of where to start before you sigh.

“So… is this a date?”

Wonwoo scratches the back of his head, ears and cheeks hot as you stare back at him. “I just–I want to understand where we are, Wonwoo. Or what we are, I guess.”

There’s a sigh on his lips and out of nervousness, all he can do is readjust his glasses for the third time.

“I told you I was bad at this.”

He was nervous the entire time the two of you were at the museum and he didn’t know how to let you know so he just didn’t. 

He was hoping that he would’ve had the confidence like he usually did. 

“I’m sorry, I know, I--I should’ve tried talking but god, you make me so fucking nervous?” He laughs at his own shyness as he runs a free hand through his hair, fully messing up the styling that Minghao had painstakingly done.

“I make you nervous?”

Oh god.

“I--yeah. You really do.” He smiles genuinely at you before his shy eyes focus on the cup of coffee in front of himself. “I know it’s hard to believe, all things considered, but you really do and sometimes I don’t know how to handle myself so I just… Don’t. And I know it’s not fair and I’m super fucking aware I do it too, I just--I can be bad at words sometimes, I guess.”

You try to keep your cool as you nod; lips easing into a soft smile as you stare at Wonwoo dreamily.

You make him nervous.

Letting it go for now, you stir your drink; thinking of ways to get Wonwoo to be more talkative but not in a nervous, panicked way.

“Hey, why don’t you tell me about your semester abroad?”

That manages to do the trick as Wonwoo spends the rest of the lunch portion of your date telling you various anecdotes of his trip.

And you learn that other than the long lectures and midday naps, his eyes light up at the stories he tells you about when they were actually at the archeological dig sites.

“It was so interesting to see remnants of what used to roam the earth before we did and to see little artifacts of old cities. I could’ve spent all day out there just excavating.”

“D’you think you’ll go again if you get the chance?”

Wonwoo squeezes your hand as the two of you walk out of the little cafe - already heading towards the last destination that he’d picked out.

“It’d be nice to.” He grins cheekily at you. “But maybe next time we could go together?”

You end up having to take a taxi to get to the final location.

‘It’d be too far to walk for you, pretty baby~’ Wonwoo had cooed.

The car stops after about 35 minutes and while he pays the fare, you step out to read the sign in front of the large domed building.

‘Planetarium.’

“You okay, baby?”

“Hmm? Y-yeah! I’m just… Wow, I don’t think I’ve been here in… ever.” You laugh awkwardly as Wonwoo places a gentle hand on the small of your back.

“I thought it’d be nice and quiet. We could just... Enjoy each others’ company. And talk. Finally.”

The two of you are quiet when you walk in but Wonwoo tells the receptionist that he’s booked a private room which makes your cheeks warm up.

He’d definitely gone the extra mile.

The two of you are led to a smaller room - just enough to fit ten or so people except it’s only you and Wonwoo once the receptionist shuts the door and leaves you be.

“Shall we?” You nod as you take a seat in one of the recliners; setting your things down into the seat next to you as Wonwoo takes the seat on your other side. The two of you get comfortable as you stare up into the projected night sky - only the buzzing of the projectors in the small room filling up the silence as you start to relax.

Wonwoo reaches for your hand in the darkness and you feel yourself jolt in surprise when he tugs you a little closer to himself.

“Have you ever heard the story of the sun and moon?”

“Hmm? Which one? Aren’t there a lot?”

He closes his eyes, sighing softly as he relaxes in the darkness.

“It’s that old story about how the Sun loved the Moon so much that he died for her every night so that she could breathe. He thought she was so beautiful when she’d glow but the Moon knew their fates were decided in different paths. So the Sun would see her in passing, short glimpses, right before he disappeared beyond the horizon. It’s a romantic story about sacrifice and star crossed lovers.”

“Is that what we are?”

Wonwoo lets out a loud laugh; eyes forming crescents as his glasses slide down his nose bridge.

“No, I think our story is much more fortunate than that.”

Black is Wonwoo’s favorite color.

“A-ah, hold on…!”

He likes to take naps when he’s not working or in his classes and sometimes spends his time playing PC games with his frat brothers until 3 in the morning.

“Wo--Wonwoo!”

He doesn’t have a ton of hobbies but he’s been thinking about videography lately since Mingyu’s brought it up.

“Baby, h-hold on, I’m gonna drop you if you don’t stop flailing!”

And he’s already thinking about taking a film class next semester and maybe quitting his job at the library to focus.

He tells you his favorite hyung is Seungcheol, ‘because he buys food all the time’ and his favorite dongsaeng is Seokmin, ‘because he cries easily so you know his heart is always in the right place.’

“Okay, finally!”

Wonwoo all but kicks the door to his room open, carrying you inside before he kicks it shut.

He lays you down gently on the bed as you giggle; a gentle smile on his face when he lays down next to you.

“I don’t know why you wanted to carry me up the entire flight of stairs but thank you.”

“Think of it as my sun sacrificing for your moon.”

You roll your eyes at his sudden cheesiness and in the heat of the moment, you find yourself rolling onto your side and immediately reaching for Wonwoo’s face as you tug him into a heated kiss.

“Mmph!”

He’s taken by surprise at first but quickly melts into it himself; eyes closing and hands reaching for your body when you start to roll on top of him.

His lips are soft and his kisses slow - the taste of coffee lingering on his lips and tongue when your lips part for him.

You’re reminded of his soft and gentle touches from a few days prior when you moan against his mouth and he’s quick to thread a hand through your hair before he flips your positions so that you’re underneath him instead.

“Mmh… Wonwoo…”

He kisses you on the lips one more time before he pulls away and takes his glasses off.

“I have one more thing for you to conclude our date.”

“Oh? A gift?”

“You can say that…”

He gets up from the bed and walks over to his closet - fetching a small box that he brings back to the bed as you sit up on your elbows.

“Wait, you’re not actually proposing, are you? On the first date?” Snorting, he takes the lid off and empties the contents of the box onto the bed.

“Depends. There’s definitely a cock ring in this pile somewhere.”

‘You can use anything in this box on me tonight. I wanna give you the freedom.’

“You look… wow.”

You try your best to not go over the top with the toys but you couldn’t help yourself when you reached for the blindfold and the set of handcuffs; shaky fingers helping Wonwoo get into position against the headboard before you had locked the handcuffs into place and wrapped the blindfold around his head.

“Everything you dreamed about, baby? Having me at your mercy?” He smirks and even through the blindfold, you already know his eyes are smoldering and staring holes into you as you sit on his thighs.

“Maybe we should switch off every now and again ‘cause you look really good like this, Wonwoo…”

“Hah, well, let’s see how well you do, hmm, princess? Maybe if you do a good job, I might let you.”

Gulping, your eyes flit down his half naked body and yours before you reach for one more thing from the box; turning it on and letting it buzz to life as Wonwoo tenses up slightly.

He holds his breath and anticipates it but he’s still not as prepared as he thinks when you press the vibrator against his cock through the fabric of his boxer briefs.

“Oh--s-shit!”

The sensations feel even stronger with his eyes covered by the blindfold and his arms bound above his head and no matter how much he wants to tug against his restraints, he knows he can’t do anything.

Your mouth is agape at the way Wonwoo squirms underneath you and for a moment, you wonder if this is what he sees when you’re the one squirming underneath him.

“You’re not usually this sensitive… daddy~”

The teasing lilt in your voice has Wonwoo clenching his jaw before he huffs. “Daddy’s not used to being the one tied up, sweetheart.”

He opens his mouth to comment again, only a soft moan floating past his lips as he thrusts up against the vibrator. You don’t do anything other than hold it against his clothed cock but it’s enough for him to want to give in and switch places with you already - even though it’s only been minutes since you started.

Wonwoo tells himself control is something he needs to learn how to manage.

You can’t help but touch yourself while you hold the toy against him; biting your lip to hold in your noises when you gently run your fingers over your clothed mound.

“Sweetheart…”

“Y-yes, daddy?”

Grinning, Wonwoo can already tell by the shakiness of your voice that you’re affected too and he can’t help but want his hands roaming all over your skin.

“You should have all your fun now while you can~”

Gulping, you heed the warning in his voice as you set the vibrator to its highest setting, causing Wonwoo to let out a broken cry as the vibrations make his entire body tremble and try to shy away from the toy.

“G--god, fuh--fuck, ngh…”

His moans have your pussy clenching around emptiness and your fingertips only press harder into the wet patch of your panties at the way he tugs against his restraints.

“D-daddy… I--Can I sit on your cock now? I can’t w-wait any longer, you look so good…”

“O-oh? Watching daddy being a little bit submissive got your panties all wet, huh, princess? Are you wet enough to take daddy’s cock already?”

“Mmhmm…”

You turn off the toy and pull it away from him, watching his body go slack before you shimmy off of his lap to take off your panties.

A grin etches itself onto your face as you hold the wet material in your hands. “Daddy? Do you wanna know how wet I am?”

You can see Wonwoo’s brows furrow from above the blindfold but he nods once, lips parted slightly as he catches his breath. Goosebumps are all over his skin and he can feel you starting to grind down onto his clothed cock as your wetness soaks into the material of his boxer briefs.

“Oh, sweetheart, I--mmph!”

Giggling, you stuff the fabric between his parted lips - muffling anything he was going to say after as you grind down onto him harder. “Mmh, daddy you’re so hard… ‘m gonna make myself cum on your cock now, okay~?”

Only what you can assume are muffled curse words fall from his lips when you scoot back down to his thighs, tugging his boxer briefs down before wrapping a hand around his cock.

You lean over and let saliva drip from your mouth to the head of his cock - smearing the spit and his precum up and down his shaft as you prolong his teasing before giving himself, and yourself, what you both really want.

“Daddy, I wish you could see yourself right now~ I can tell how much you wanna feel my cute ‘lil pussy wrapped around your cock… Squeezing you and making you feel good too~”

Wonwoo can only groan around the fabric, hips thrusting up into your palm.

“And I’m so wet now too… But daddy always gets me sooo wet…” You shimmy back up his body, positioning his cock at your entrance before you start to sink down slowly. “A-ah, sliding into my hot ‘lil cunt like you w-were made for me, daddy…”

The amount of expletives Wonwoo’s screamed into the soaked material is uncountable at this point, but he says a mental prayer thanking the powers up above when he’s finally fully seated in your warmth - cock already curving deliciously into your g-spot as you mewl.

“Mmh, I could cum like this… Your cock is s-so big it’s already filling me up s-so good and--and touching all the p-places inside me that make me w-wanna cum…”

You grind atop his lap, swiveling your hips before removing your bra and tossing it off to the side. “Ngh… daddy…” Your hands roam your skin, cupping your breasts and pinching your nipples as you whimper and clench down onto Wonwoo’s cock harder.

“Nod once if you wanna see me, daddy~ Or nod twice if you wanna talk to me~”

Wonwoo grits his teeth - you could really be evil when you wanted to.

But he nods once, sharply, to let you know he’s not happy he can’t have both. You laugh softly in return, leaning up to remove the silk ribbon from his eyes.

He blinks rapidly to adjust to the dimmed room, eyes on your naked body in a flash as you go back to teasing yourself.

“Do you like what you see, daddy?”

Wonwoo gulps, this time nodding shakily as he watches you pinch your nipples and cup your breasts. “Bet you wanna touch me too, huh, daddy?” He narrows his eyes - silently telling you to watch yourself.

“Hmm… s’not as fun when daddy doesn’t talk to me too~”

You smile at him teasingly before you reach over to pull the wet material from between Wonwoo’s lips and he doesn’t waste a second before he’s chuckling - quietly yet enough to make you shiver.

“Hah, gotta hand it to you, princess...”

He doesn’t say anything more which makes you nervous so instead, you start bouncing on his lap, fingertips on your clit as you chase your pleasure.

This won’t last much longer, you think, I gotta take what I can get.

Soft mewls spill from your lips as you maintain eye contact with him and the way he just stares at you is enough to make you cry out.

“D-daddy, d--don’t, ah, look at m-me like that…”

“Like what, princess?”

You pinch your clit, eyes clamping shut when he shifts slightly underneath you.

A choked sob bubbles up your throat when you throw your head back and the pleasure washes over you - your orgasm hitting you hard as you swivel your hips faster.

“Oho, my pretty ‘lil princess is already cumming~ Your hot ‘lil cunt is sucking my cock in deeper while you cum… Don’t you want daddy to fuck you good and hard? Feel my cock fucking you so deep you feel it in your stomach?”

“O-oh, god, daddy…!” Your thighs shake as you rub quicker circles on your clit - milking your orgasm for what it’s worth before you would give back the control to Wonwoo.

“Or maybe daddy should fuck you slow… Let you feel every inch of me when I’m sliding in and out of your pretty ‘lil cunt… Make you beg for me and crave me so fuckin’ bad, just like you did to me?”

His laugh is cruel and makes you whimper; orgasm ebbing away as your fingers slow down and your hips come to a stop.

Gulping, you know the second the locks click on the handcuffs that Wonwoo would most likely make you pay for all your teasing.

But you fish for the keys lost in the bedsheets - shaky, sticky fingers reaching above the silent male underneath you as you start to undo the locks keeping him bound to the bed.

And it doesn’t take long.

“Ah…!”

Wonwoo does the rest of the work himself, tugging himself free and maneuvering you swiftly until you’re on your back; the air knocked out of your lungs at how quickly he moved.

“Daddy, I--”

The words die on your tongue when Wonwoo pushes your legs up to your chest, not even bothering to rid himself of his boxer briefs when he sinks his cock back into you.

In this position, Wonwoo holds all the control; cock slamming into your sensitive cunt as garbled noises fall from your lips.

“D--daddy, ‘m se--sensitive… ngh…”

Your cunt is like a vice grip around his cock as he snaps his hips hard and fast - this time chasing his own pleasure after all your teasing.

In all honesty, he would’ve cum if you kept the vibrator on his body any longer and he mentallly reminds himself to not let you know how easily it affected him.

“I know you’re sensitive, princess~ Which is why you’re gonna cum for me again.”

Wonwoo reaches between your bodies, rubbing quick circles on your clit with the pad of his thumb as you scream out his name.

“Oh--oh, god! Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo!”

“That’s right. Fuckin’ scream my name, princess. Who’s making you feel this good?”

“Y--You! Daddy! Fuck, ah, I--I can’t, I can’t, I--mmh!”

Wonwoo already starts to feel your body tense up with each thrust of his hips that has the head of his cock tapping your g-spot.

“You can and you will, princess.” He mutters, eyes focused on your face that contorts in absolute bliss. “Daddy wants to feel you cumming on his cock while he fucks you nice and deep. You take me so well, princess~ Fuckin’ taking all of me in your cute ‘lil cunt.”

Tears blur your vision as the pleasure starts to wash over you a second time - nothing leaving your lips except for an alternation of ‘Wonwoo’ and ‘daddy’ as your legs shake and toes curl.

“Fuck, princess…!”

Wonwoo’s cock is forced out of you as you cum hard; squirting all over his lower half as you cry out and convulse against the sheets.

The ringing in your ears is enough to block out anything he seems to say but he’s quick to wrap a hand around his cock and tap your swollen clit as he works you through your second high.

“Aww, my good ‘lil princess is so cute when she’s squirting all over daddy~ Making a big mess, too~” Your body jolts with each tap of his cock head against your clit and it only prolongs your orgasm as you thrash against his sheets.

“Da---daddy… I, hic, ‘m sor--sorry…”

When Wonwoo feels your body start to relax after a few tense minutes, he takes in your glowing form underneath him; thighs slicked with wetness and bed sheets soaked and crumpled underneath your bodies.

In a moment of gentleness, he lets your quivering legs down, fingertips massaging your tired body as he leans over you.

His lips are ghosting across your cheek as you open your teary eyes, soft cries still on your lips when he wipes at your tear stained cheek with the back of his fingers.

“You okay, princess?”

“Mm…”

“You wanna stop now? We can if you want.” His voice is barely above a whisper and the softness of it makes your body feel warm and sated when he kisses you gently. He repeats this a few more times as you catch your breath; leaving feather-light kisses all over your face as you mewl.

“You didn’t cum yet though, daddy…”

“I know, s’okay.” He smiles against your lips, “I want what you want… ‘Cause I really like you. And I’d really like to go on more dates with you, princess. And I wanna be able to tell everyone that I really like you too. And show you off to them and make them jealous that you’re mine. If you’ll let me. And learn with me.”

You giggle tiredly into his kiss, hazy eyes meeting his own.

You were happy.

And Wonwoo was too.

“Wanna start by grabbing me a glass of water from downstairs then, daddy?”

“Anything for you, my moon.”

“Does that really work?”

“What do you mean?”

“The ‘holding a cup to the door’ thing. Can you hear them?” Mingyu purses his lips at Minghao’s question.

“Not… really. Kinda just muffles it more.”

Jeonghan passes by the two currently hunched over each other in front of Wonwoo’s door; an incredulous look on his face.

“Why are the two of you listening in on them fucking? Fucking weirdos.”

Mingyu and Minghao both turn to look at the older male, lips pursed into a firm line “We’re not listening to them fucking, hyung. We’re trying to hear their conversation.”

Jeonghan laughs as he shakes his head.

“There’s absolutely no valuable conversation going on if she’s screaming ‘daddy’ so loud that Seungcheol is texting me about it from his bedroom. You should leave before Wonwoo finds out and decides to make rugs out of the two of you.”

“Ugh… Yes, hyung.”

💕

[moon3thereal]

Hiii one request! Nat meets R in a bar or something while she is trying to be far away from the problems of being an avenger,the read head tries to have a date with her and R accepts, then in the midel of the date R takes the initiative and start to be a little/much sassy 😏 and convinces Nat to leave the place to be in somewhere more private. But when they are alone R start to fight with Nat trying to knock her out but Nat pin her down and asks why she is doing that, R admitt that she is a widow and was sent to cach her and bring her back to the red room. The end can be as you wish.

Thanks!!

Title: Eyes on the prize

genre: fluff, angst-ish

warnings: guns, violence, alcohol, knives, mention of memory removal

the bottom: (dont ask why, but leah forced me to credit her at the bottom and technically i did!) credits to @midgardianweasley for practically co-writing and building the foundation for this fic, i could NOT have done this without her, thank you so much, and please go check out her fics everyone!

a/n: one of the longest fics i've written, i hope you guys enjoy! ends with fluff dw

2.7 K words

Natasha brushed a hand over her face in fatigue, she’d been to more than 3 countries within the time span of a week for missions and had done so much paperwork she thought she might pull out her hair if she laid eyes on another mission report. The cadets that S.H.I.E.L.D recruited, in her eyes, were no more than children who didn’t even know how to hold a gun properly, not to mention shoot.

What the Russian needed right now was tequila, a shit load of tequila. Fortunately, there was a bar that the redhead frequented whenever she needs to put some distance between her and the problems of the avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D

Picking up her leather jacket that was tossed carelessly on her couch and the keys to her Chevrolet, Natasha set off to a bar about 3 blocks down the Avengers compound, in fifteen minutes, she was met with a glowing neon sign, she was regular at the dim bar and was almost always seen there on a Friday night with her red hair in a braid and several locks framing her face in effortless elegance

Usually, people didn’t approach her and if they did, she never paid much attention to them. However, today when she sat down, there was a y/h/c haired woman already locating the seat next to her with a beer in her hand. You were idly swirling the beer in its bottle and staring off into space when the redhead settled down in her usual seat.

She ordered 10 tequila shots and you raised a brow at her “you sure you can handle that?” she turned to you with a smirk “I can handle twice as much as that but I have work tomorrow” you hummed in acknowledgement “I haven’t seen you around here before, you’re new?” Natasha asked downing a shot without so much as a grimace “I’m looking for a job, bartender” you said propping your foot up on the counter “well you sure don’t look like one” she remarks and you frowned “is there a specific look for a bartender?” and she downed a second shot and gestured to a woman taking orders from drunk customers “sure there is, there, like her”

You scoffed “hm maybe I’d be an exception to the standard” the corner of the redhead’s lips quirked up “good, it’d be nice to see some change around here” you stretched your arms out in front of you “it would be, if they hired me, but they didn’t, which is why I’m sitting around moping about the fact they rejected such a pretty face” Natasha downed another shot nodding in agreement. You looked at her, genuinely impressed at her alcohol tolerance. “Your mom never taught you that it’s rude to stare?” your face fell for a second at the mention of your mother, she was dead, like all the mothers of the widows who attempted to pry their daughters out of the red room’s grip. But you restored your poker face before she could catch your look of discomposure.

“If staring at you was considered rude, then the whole world would be douchebags” you quipped. Natasha only laughed and shook her head at your obvious flirting “you come here often then?” you asked after watching her down another shot “obviously not enough if I can’t remember a pretty face like yours.” The redhead said lightly. she was studying you though, she noticed how you were sitting, back straight, shoulders back, she wasn’t unfamiliar to that posture at all, in the red room, all widows were trained to be on the defense, on alert at all times, always anticipating anything and everything, nothing could go amiss that way. And she’d also noticed the way you had barely taken a sip of your drink, resorting to swishing the liquid idly in its bottle.

Against everything logical and her own unmistakable and uncannily accurate instinct, Natasha stopped her brain from analyzing and evaluating these signs and allowed them to be overlooked as a side effect of her falling into a trance simply by observing you, how your eyebrows arched perfectly, the curve of your lips, the perfect ridge of your nose and the captivating color of your eyes and how all of your facial parts are completely flawless to her, she could’ve sworn she’d seen you somewhere before. Natasha had met many interesting people in her line of work but she’d never yet met one as intriguing as you were, the quintessential mysterious girl in the bar.

If you had told her two days ago, that she would ask a stranger in a bar over to her apartment to drink with her, she’d have called you crazy. However, it didn’t seem so crazy to her now, it was unlike Natasha, but she asked you to come over to have a drink, an unofficial, casual date. You raised an eyebrow “now, now, was that an attempt to get me drunk?” you clicked your tongue in faux disapproval “simply seizing the opportunity to get to know you better” she said with a shrug. You hid a smile behind your beer bottle, taking the first sip of the night. You had tried to convince yourself that it was simply your success at scoring a date with the Russian therefore giving you a chance to lure her somewhere private to eliminate her, but something in you told you it was more than that, the way she smiled, how her lips curved and her perfectly sculpted eyebrow lifted, it was all so familiar yet you simply couldn’t retrieve the memory.

But one thought was clear, raging even, at the back of your mind. You didn’t want to hurt her, whoever she was, you didn’t want to lay a hand on her, couldn’t bear to see her in pain, you’d defy Dreykov, defy the red room, defy Russia and all of their stupid organizations if it meant you could figure out this mystery of a woman, discovering her secrets one by one, layer by layer. Not to report back to the red room but just to see Natasha as she was. Unfortunately, life doesn’t work that way, it never worked that way, if you’d done it, Dreykov would’ve been notified and you’d be dead before the sun rises the next day. Your eyebrows knitted together momentarily at the thought that the woman before you would be dead at your hands before dawn before you arranged your features to hide the moment of doubt.

“Natalia Alianovna Romanova. Natasha Romanoff. She’s a problem, a threat, a danger to the future of our widows, I need her terminated, and there’s no one better than you, y/n, for the job. Don’t let me down” Dreykov’s voice flashed in your mind, his orders were clear, kill her or there will be consequences.

Natasha’s voice brought you back to the conversation “what do you do? Before you decided to look for a job at this dingy bar I mean” she asked, the shot glasses were all empty now where there had been at least 5 more before, you must’ve been too entranced by your thoughts, or how strands of her hair had escaped her braid and curly wisps of ginger hair were framing her face perfectly. You both had decided to get out of the bar, more patrons had walked in making it stuffy and crampy, you were walking out the door with Natasha, presumably to her apartment “a primary teacher, English.” You said without hesitation, you always spent hours reciting the information of your cover, sometimes you felt as if you were really the person you were pretending to be with how fluently you could deliver the lines you’d practiced in front of a mirror until they were flawless.

She laughed; a clear, melodious laugh that made your cheeks heat up “you? An English teacher? Wow.” She said “what are you gonna say I don’t look like one?” you glared at her with indignation on your face “no, you don’t, you don’t at all” she said, her expression turning into a serious one, for a second your heart dropped, thinking your cover had been blown and you’d have to resort to shooting her in the middle of the street, which wasn’t exactly ideal “you look like a zookeeper” she said biting her lip to hold back her laugh at the look on your face. you raised your eyebrows in amusement “that wasn’t funny” you said “oh but it was” the redhead laughed showing her impossibly white teeth and her cheeks were pink from walking in the cold night air, you couldn’t help but stare at her lips, her perfectly kissable- snap out of it y/l/n, you thought to yourself, that isn’t what you’re here to do.

“But seriously, I’m actually happy about how tonight is going, better than drinking alone” she voiced out, you looked to her with a smirk evident on your face, you’d just reached her apartment and she was unlocking the door letting you in behind her. “Going soft for me Romanoff?” she scoffed before her face fell into an expression of momentary confusion, in a split second you both had your guns pointed at each other “who are you? How do you know my name?” the carefree Natasha was gone now, and in her place stood the infamous black widow.

Deciding that hiding your identity from her was pointless now, you attempted to attack, kicking the gun from her hand and vaulting to get your legs around her neck to choke her. Unfortunately for you, that was textbook red room and a trick Natasha had used countless times on enemies of various sizes. Blocking you, the Russian pinned you, one hand on the small of your back and the other at the back of your neck, holding you down “I knew I should’ve spent the night alone.” Refusing to be defeated so easily, you swept her feet out from under her, but once you got up, she’d punched you in your side causing you to double over in pain. She moved to her gun but you weren’t the star student of the red room for no reason, in the blink of an eye, you had a knife to her throat.

The both of you had stood there for a few seconds, breathing heavily before you felt a familiar feeling of cool metal, the barrel of a gun, through your thin shirt. “You didn’t think I just had one, did you?” she said pressing it into your side in warning. Gritting your teeth in frustration, you released her with a shove and dropped your knife with your hands raised.

“If it was anyone else, in any other situation, I would’ve shot you and be done with it, but you’re intriguing, there’s a story behind this. I trust you won’t pull anything?” she asked watching you stare down the barrel of her Glock. You nodded once, albeit grudgingly. To your utter surprise, she placed the gun down and gestured to a chair on the opposite side of the table and sat down herself. You’d utterly demolished the rest of her kitchen with your fight. Sitting in the chair rigidly, Natasha raised an eyebrow at your silence, you noted how if you made a run for it, she had the ability to shoot you before you even stood up with the proximity of her hand and her gun. Her gun, you had the exact half to the one on the floor across the room, your gun. You furrowed your eyebrows, you had one half of the twin guns, the other half was hers. But that didn’t make sense, unless there was a reason why she’d seemed familiar to you?

Natasha seemed to think the same, her eyes flickering from the gun just inches away from her fingertips to the one across the room, hers had your initials engraved at the bottom, and yours hers. But you’ve never understood why there was two letters engraved on to your favored gun “N.R. Natasha Romanoff” you said, more to yourself than to her. She spoke two letters, your name.

“What is this, who are you?” you said struggling to even out your breathing. “y/n y/l/n” she said. “no it cant be” she said disbelief streaked over her face. “The red room is gone, I killed Dreykov” she said shaking her head and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes “I hate to break it to you, but Dreykov is very much alive” you said “I’m a widow, I was sent here to kill you, you’re a threat to them” you said staring her directly in the eyes. “Whatever you did, unsuccessful” you said. “do you even remember me?” she said a crease in her forehead and looked up at you “you seem familiar. But no, not really” all hostility had gone out from both your voices, you were both just doing your jobs

She started humming a song, the music sounded eerily familiar, the same feeling you’d felt previously looking at her painted lips flooded you. Familiar, but the memory was just out of reach. “with the lights out, it’s less dangerous, here we are now” she started singing softly “entertainers” you breathed out disbelievingly. It suddenly came rushing back to you

When you’d snuck a radio from your trainers’ office

When you’d sneak out of the cuffs on the beds at night to share hidden kisses with each other

How you’d trained side by side

How a redheaded girl had been by your side when you threw up on your first kill

Natalia. Natasha. You had loved her in secret, between the shadow and the soul. You had loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.

Shock was written clearly over your features. You hadn’t seen her since she’d gotten out, ten years ago. Now that you remembered, you couldn’t believe you didn’t recognize her. The same fiery red hair, same eyebrows, same emerald green eyes, same smile. Same Natalia.

Guilt rushed in like an overwhelming wave, Natasha couldn’t believe that you were still alive, she’d attempted to search for you, almost went crazy when you went completely off grid after the Budapest mission. She’d meant to defect, and then go back for you. She had it all planned out, but you seemed to vanish off the face of the earth “I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so sorry, I tried, I really did. You were just gone, I thought you were dead” You stared back at her in shock “its okay, we were separated, I was sent to Italy, remember? It wasn’t your fault.” You said still in a daze

After moments of confusion over how you didn’t remember someone that important to you, an expression of realization found its way onto your face. Memory removal, of course. The red room had the technology, attachment to anyone, anyone at all was nothing but a weakness. Love is for children, that was what the red room had burned into the widows’ minds.

Hatred shone in your eyes when you realized that Dreykov had practically had his scientists cut the part of you that had loved Natasha out of your brain. “you’re an avenger. Means Dreykov won’t hurt you” you contemplated “or your comrades” you supported your chin on your heel of your palm. Natasha nodded slowly in confusion. “They can’t afford to” she said “so if I was your comrade, they would lose any and all ability to do me harm” she nodded again “I suppose so, yes” when you both locked eyes again, you both knew what the other was thinking. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Natasha asked with a smirk “to burn the red room to the ground? Yes.” You said with a matching smirk

If love was for children, you were both toddlers. After everything the red room and the world had done to keep you apart, you had somehow found your way back to each other again. And you weren’t planning on letting her out of your sight any time soon.

[gingerxarmy]

Confessions - Reader x Driver

Here we are with another Reader x Driver. Hope you like it! It took a different ending than what I thought about from the start, hah.

If there's anything you would like me to write I take requests, and I will write it when I have time :D

***

Your a bartender at your own bar, doing your job when one off your regulars keep you company.

Words: 1686 - fluff

Warning: mention of alcohol

You had been serving drinks for the last three hours, one of the regulars had been standing at the end of the bar with a girl, chatting. You knew his name quite well, him being famous thanks to his brave job and good looks made it hard to not watch him whenever he was in the room. He had a habit of flirting with whoever came into his path. But if you where rich, famous and a fucking racing driver, you guessed they could do whatever they wanted.

But tonight wasn't a good night. You had been serving another regular for the past hour and sometimes it did hurt, to watch someone with a good soul, to destroy it with the alcohol you only did your job to serve. Today he was extra talkative of the events that led him to your bar today. And it only hurt you more to serve him his drinks.

While your regular guest talked about his failing relationship you let your eyes drift off to the driver who had his arms folded over his chest. He looked lost in his thoughts while the girl talked, gesticule with her arms. You couldn’t help but think about what made him so lost in thoughts, normally he was the one who liked to talk, his charming accent always made its way with the girls. And you hated to admit that it worked for you as well.

You greeted a customer who made his way to the bar, taking his order and you started to make it. Mixing the ingredients and chatting with the new person. One thing that you loved about your job was the opportunity to meet new people everyday. And after a couple of drinks people had no filter anymore. It isn’t unusual for people to open up to you, talking about all different things. But never did anyone confess to murder, and you where damn lucky about it.

But this day, when he had chosen to pay your bar a visit you couldn't care less of the things Newbie talked about. Jalousie made its way to you when you once again let your eyes travel to the girl he had chosen for tonight to have his fun with. He was a player, you knew it, but all bad kinds of guys are a look for shore eye. And no one can say anything less, then they would be lying.

When you lay your eyes on him this time, it almost gave you a heart attack. His eyes were already on you. A smirk made its way to his lips when you met his eyes, making you blush and turned your attention back to Newbie, who now tried very poorly to flirt with you. You're flattered, you’re not the most popular person around your friends, not the best looking if you said it yourself. But here, around men who almost only made their way to your bar for the alcohol, you could be blushing by a good looking man who drunkenly gave poor flirtattents, but most of the time it’s just an egoboost.

You were in the middle of pouring a new Whiskey Sour when you heard an all too familiar voice asking for one as well. You nod your head, not looking at him, as you put the glass in front of your regular guest. Humming with to the song playing through the speakers as you blend Whiskey and lemon juice together.

“I thought you would be the talkative person tonight,” he says when you put his drik at the spot in front of him. “You’ve been quiet all night.”

“I’m impressed you noticed, considering you almost had your tongue down that lady’s troute all night.” You give him a smirk before wetting the cloth and start to wipe off the disk.

“Nah, never even considering it. She was only a pretty face you know,” he shrugs his shoulders before taking a sip from his drink. “This!” he says and points at the drink you just made. “This is fantastic.”

“Thanks, it’s my job. Would be almost impossible if it wasn’t. you know.” You say and give him a genuine smile.

“There you are!” He says and laughs. “The talkative woman that I like!”

“Oh come on, say why you are here and not with the girl you tried so hard to chat up before. Did she realise that you actually were too much of a regular here to have a chance of more than a one night stand?” You were interested to actually know why he ditched his date and started to talk to you instead. You were almost pleased about the thought of him liking your company better than hers. But you would never say it out loud.

“I wasn’t that keen on finding a new woman. You know, I actually have found someone I would like to get to know better.” Ouch, that was all your chances out of the window with him, you sighed.

“I’m happy for you.” You tried to sound glad about the news. “So, why are you here, drinking, if this lovely girl is out there somewhere?”

He mumbled something that sounded a lot like; Because I’m too much of a coward to ask her out by being sober. “Nah, just thought about making a visit to my favorite bartender when I actually was in town. Making sure she gets customers, you know,” he gives you one of his signature smiles. “And I was kinda bored at the hotel.”

There it was, you were just a distraction, a someone to waste his time on. He had been at your bar since you opened it two years ago and you clicked. He had been bringing a couple of friends sometimes, but most of the time he was alone, company with a girl he chatted up for taking with him to his hotel room. You would be lying if you say you hadn’t been wishing for being that girl sometime. It wasn’t professional to think so about a customer, but it was him. He was just naturally charming and it was almost like he was a bit nicer to you than with the girls he took home.

“Tell me about her.” You said, as if you already weren't heartbroken by the thought of him finding someone else.

“Yeah, sure. She-, eh, I don’t know where to begin.” He starts, fiddling with the now empty glass in front of him. “Please give me a Vodka Redbull if I’m gonna do this.” You let out a laugh while doing what he told you to give him.

“Is she that fantastic so you need a drink to spill the tea about her?” He was nervous and mister Newbie in the chair beside him was really interested in your conversation. You would have been nervous for a couple of strangers as well if you would tell someone about your crush.

“She is, yeah.” You lost your smile at his words. “She is perfect. Her smile makes you want to take a picture and frame it. It makes your heart melt if you are the one who makes her laugh. But not only that, she is beautiful. She really is, she could be a model if she wanted to, but I think she’s too shy, she hasn't got the best self-confidence I believe. And that makes me want to tell her everytime that she is so much more than what she thinks she is.” His gaze has become increasingly unfocused as he continues to speak. Lost in his thoughts about the girl who really makes him look in love. “And she is kind to strangers, she always tries to listen to what everyone says and I just can’t help but fall for her.” He downs the reminders of his drink before meeting your eyes. He looks vulnerable in a way you have never seen him before.

“She sounds like a really nice person. And I think you should do whatever you can to make her yours.” You say with a broken smile.

“You really believe so?” He asks, looking helplessly at you.

“I think she sounds lovely and if you don’t ask this person out I would love to have her name and number so I can do it.” Newbie says and starles the both of you, Newbie was long forgotten about when he was talking about the girl he liked.

“I guess, but I don’t know how. And she is way out of my league.”

“Oh come on now! Just ask her out. Do it know! Call her!” You say and watch as he takes out his phone, searching through his contacts before stopping. Looking at you and shaking his head.

“I don’t have her number,” he laughs, both you and Newbie just gave each other a look before shaking your heads. “But, you. I really like you. And I’m not playing, this shit is strong. Wow. I think the vodka is kicking in now. And I can’t keep my mouth shut. Please go out with me! Let me make you a drink for once!” He rambles as he reaches forward for your hand. You look at him in shock. Did he just ask you out?

“Did you just ask me out?” You say dumbfounded.

“Yes I did. I’ve been coming here for way too long without asking you out. And if you are rejecting me now I don't have the guts to put a foot in her again.” With pleading eyes he grabs your other hand as well.

“I- yes. Of Course. I would be a foul if I was rejecting you.”

“Thanks fuck. I really thought I would have been losing an almost friend and like the love of my life in the same night,” he laughs and stands up from his seat. Making his way over to you on unsteady legs. In seconds he has you in his arms. Putting a hand on your check and giving you a kiss. You soon break the kiss, looking into his eyes and realice;

“Wait, love of your life?”

[tojigasm]

Sweet Boy (toji Fushiguro x trans masc! reader)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, some AFAB terminology, & penetrative sex

Author's Note - Hi! i know it's been a while since i posted, i've been trying to get requests done and managing college at the same time and its been rlly crazy lol. this was requested by @gyomei1427 <3. I plan to get more requests done within the next week or so but this is just a reminder that my requests are closed and have been for the past week until further notice, i hope you all enjoy!<3

Toji was a relaxed person, contrary to what many would believe, some would even expect him to have a thought out execution plan for anyone he came into contact with that happened to press a thumb on his last metaphorical button. Toji would step into a room and the air surrounding him would run cold, chilling anyone within a 4 foot radius of him to the bone, as if the world feared Toji’s wrath and anger.

Toji considered himself a patient person, he could sit in wait and listen to those around him, ingesting the information from the people who’d chat over now-cold cups of coffee. Toji could stand that, he found small inputs from random conversations entertained him.

The woman next to him was speaking in a low-tone, one he remembered his late wife would use when she’d remind him to hide his swords and bloody clothes from the eyes of his infant son. The woman was talking to her friend about her boyfriend.

Toji couldn't stand that. Toji did not wallow in pointless bouts of gossip, honestly, he found gossip extremely irritating. Rolling his eyes he turned his head to stare out the glass windows; frost had collected over the corners and base of the sill and snow was piled up about 3 feet - toji took a second to realize how deep that was before thinking back to you.

You were meeting toji at the cafe, well, supposed to be meeting. You had planned to meet him there at around 12:00 AM. you were always early though, you would've been there at 11:30 and had both your drinks and snacks ready to go by the time toji got there. Toji was always late and that worried him. He was late and you were nowhere in sight.

Toji was patient. He could wait… he turned, looking back to the woman once more before turning back to the window, no he couldn't. He most definitely couldn't wait.

Pulling out his phone he texted you quickly

Kid, where are you?

Toji waited a few seconds, contemplating messaging you again before just calling you.

No matter what the situation - toji considered himself a straightforward person. He didn't care for long conversations when you could easily get to the point. One thing toji was not straightforward about was his absolute adoration for you. You had toji wrapped around your finger. Couldn't find something? Toji found it for you. Couldn't reach something? Toji got it for you. Body was sore from binding too long? Toji'd spend the rest of the day to night rubbing your back and kissing your soft shoulders.

But was toji whipped for you? Nope. did he like you? Absolutely. The two of you had been dating a little over a year now. But toji wasn't “whipped”. He just really, truly, deeply, loved you.

“Fuck this.” toji hit the ‘call’ button next to your profile picture (which happened to be a photo of you sleeping on his chest).

The line rang for maybe a millisecond before your voice came through on the other end, “Hey baby!” you sounded rushed, out of breath.

“Where are you?” toji cut you off quickly - not meaning to be rude but genuinely concerned for you.

You took a second to reply, stuttering a bit over your words before sighing slightly, “im sorry, i was getting something for you and the line at the store ended up being super long and then i had to walk through the snow and im really cold and i just- im sorry.” you sounded so disappointed, it made toji frown.

Toji took a second before taking a deep breath and nodding to himself, resting his elbow on the table and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay… just try to get here quickly ‘' he sighed.

You nodded happily before replying, “i will-”

“And be careful.” he added, looking up to the window again, he could nearly hear the smile through your voice.

“Yes sir.” you laughed before hanging up.

Toji placed his phone down on the table and sighed deeply, running both his hands over his face. What the hell was he gonna do with you?

~~~~~

Once you arrived it was around 1:00, your snow boots were soaked and your jacket was covered in snowflakes. Toji rushed from the table to walk you in, running his hands up and down your arms in a means to warm you up as you shivered underneath the layers of fabric.

Toji sat down and pulled you into his lap, pushing your bags under the table and grabbing your cup of coffee which has definitely gone cold over the past hour.

“So cold.” you chuckled through a shiver, wrapping your mittened hands around the cup that was dwarfed by toji’s hands as he handed it to you.

“Yeah i bet…” toji clicked his tongue as he watched you struggle to get warm, “what were you even getting?”

You looked at him before cupping his jaw in one hand, rubbing his chin gently, “ it’s a secret.” you smiled, looking at his lips before leaning forward and kissing him.

Toji moaned lightly before pulling away and kissing your forehead softly, “m’kay, that's enough, we’re in public.” he looked away from you.

You laughed evilly at that before snuggling back into his hold, drinking your coffee slowly.

~~~~

The rest of the day passed quickly as toji drove the two of you home in his truck so you didn't have to walk back in the snow. Once you were at home you carried on about your day, bringing the bags up to your room and cleaning up around the house a bit.

Toji watched as you moved around the house in your pj’s, trying to make sure you were warm enough - but his mind still couldn't stop wandering back to what you had bought, what was so damn important that you had to go out in the snow to buy it.

You stepped in front of his view as you picked up a pillow that had fallen the night before when you were watching a movie.

Reaching up toji cupped your cheek with his hands and pulled you down to meet his plump lips. The two of you stood there for a few seconds, kissing each other gently before toji pulled away and kissed your cheek, “you’re so handsome, baby.”

You blushed and hit his arm and threw the pillow you had picked up at him, toji laughed and watched you as you walked away into the kitchen.

Toji sat back against the couch before his mind wandered back to the bags.

~~~~

The rest of the evening went by quickly as both you and toji watched tv, eating snacks and occasionally kissing each other. Toji would wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you into him, pressing a kiss to your temple before placing one on your lips and whispering into your ear what a good boy you were.

It happened a few times throughout the night, sending chills down your spine as toji brought his lips to yours again making you moan lightly and cup his jaw, moving to sit in his lap. Toji cupped your ass in his hands before running them up and down your back, kissing you again.

“Mmm, toji” you gasped as both your lips fell apart.

“Mmm, such a good boy for me.” toji kissed the shell of your ear making you groan, another shiver cascading down throughout your body.

~~~~

“Toji,” you called from your bedroom, “c’mere, i wanna show you something.”

Toji could practically see the smirk written on your face as you called to him from your shared bedroom. Making his way through the hallway he smiled to himself at the sound of your giggles, coming into the doorway he felt his cock harden at the sight of your body resting on the silken sheets of the bed.

You were wearing a more-than-revealing suit of lingerie. The soft colors of the fabric complimented your skin. Heat rose to your cheeks watching toji stare you down, his cock obviously hard as the tent beneath his pants was more than noticeable.

“This all for me, baby?” he placed a forearm up to the entryway of the door, resting himself against it, his blue eyes tracing over your body hungirly.

You nodded, suddenly feeling shy under his heavy gaze. Toji looked hungry, his cheeks flushed and eyes clouded with lust, hair falling over his face; darkening his gaze.

Clicking his tongue, toji pressed himself up off the wall, taking slow strides over to where you sat on the bed. Once he hit the foot of the bed he reached a large hand out to play with one of the loose strings of the lingerie, curling it around his large finger and tugging at it lightly.

Tilting your head you watched him carefully, hands held together at your thighs. “Toji..” you said softly.

“Shhh…” toji shook his head at you softly before bringing his hand from the string to your chin, bringing your lips to his. Moaning into the kiss, you brought your hand up to cup the back of his head, playing with the strands of his hair lightly.

Pushing you back onto the bed, toji continued to kiss you, his tongue tracing your teeth quickly. Toji pulled off you, chest heaving and hair disheveled. Looking you over once more, he licked his top lip quickly before kissing his way down your chest and stomach, pulling the fabric off your body as he did so.

“Such a good boy for me,” he kissed your tummy gently, eyes catching yours making you moan deeply, your back arching off the sheets. “So handsome,” kiss “so good,” kiss.

“Toji…” you sighed lightly, hand moving to cart through his dark hair, “toji, please.” you whimpered.

Toji nodded at your soft whines, placing another quick kiss to your belly before pulling the rest of the lingerie off your thighs gently, throwing the fabric over his shoulder.

Grabbing your leg, Toji kissed the inside of your ankle and down your thigh before grabbing your hips and pulling you up to meet his hard length.

Whining, you threw your head back again as his cock rubbed up and down your soaked mound, toji groaned deeply at your soft cries.

“You gonna be a good boy for me?” toji teased his tip inside of you before pulling back a bit.

You groaned, nodding your head quickly as toji moved your leg over his shoulder, pushing into you softly. The two of you moaned deeply and toji brought his head down to meet your lips again, heavy breaths hitting both of your faces as he began to thrust inside of you.

Toji brought a hand down to stroke your nub gently, brows scrunching in pleasure as he listened to you gasp softly, “I know, I know, sweet boy.” he kissed the side of your mouth softly and pulled back, thrusting deeper into you.

“Goood boy, goood fucking boy.” toji groaned, as the coil in your stomach tightened, the sound of skin slapping made you moan deeper, a hand reaching up to pull toji closer to you which he obliged.

He continued to thrust into you, a hand moving quickly to grasp the headboard roughly, “you’re my sweet boy ya’know that?” you nodded at his words, a guttural moan ripping itself through your hoarse throat. “My, good, handsome baby.” he kissed you again.

“Toji, m’gonna cum” you warned him, hand grasping his forearm roughly.

Toji nodded at your wanton cries, “yeah? Yeah you gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna be a good boy and cum for me?” he brought his hand down to hold himself up again, kissing you deeply as he made quick of his thrusts once more.

“Oh-oh! Toji, toji, toji!” you cried, the coil in your tummy snapping, throwing your head back in a deep groan as toji continued to pound into you, chasing his own orgasm.

“Good boy, so good for me.” toji’s voice warbled lightly at the end, signifying his own release. He gave a few more weak thrusts before pulling out and cumming onto your tummy. You whimpered as he kissed your cheek and got up and walked into the bathroom on shaky legs. He came back with a towel, wiping his cum off of you before chucking the towel onto the floor.

“You’re so handsome, sweet boy,” toji spoke softly as he pulled you into his hold, laying beside you; his chest still rising and falling roughly. “My baby,” he turned to you, kissing your lips.

You smiled into the kiss and hummed at his words before snuggling up to him, “good night, toji.” you whispered into his chest.

Toji moved his neck to kiss the top of your head, bringing a hand up to your back he stroked your sweaty skin lightly, “goodnight, baby.”

[amjustagirl]

Hogwarts AU (Haikyuu!!)

feat. Bokuto Koutaro

Previously:  Miya Atsumu. Miya Osamu. Kita Shinsuke. Kuroo Tetsuro. Tsukkishima Kei

Masterlist link here

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff

Wordcount: 4.1k

Genre / Pairings: Fluff, Angst, Hogwarts AU, Bokuto / Reader

Summary: Tutoring Bokuto Kotaro in Charms seems like a waste of your time. But then you get to know the Hufflepuff seeker, and start looking forward to your tutoring sessions with him.  

A/N: Comments as always, are much welcomed. Feel free to shout at me anytime!

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

“I’m Bokuto!”

You stare coldly at the large hand shoved into your face. “Yes, I know. And so?” You arch an eyebrow and let your question linger awkwardly in the air. Surprisingly, even that fails to  dampen the brightness of the grin on his face, despite the fact that any other student would have turned tail and run at being on the receiving end of the resident Ice Queen of Slytherin’s glares. 

Your Charms professor coughs into his hand. “Ah. Yes. Bokuto requires some tutoring assistance, and I thought you’d be the right person to help out.”

You open your mouth in protest, but clamps it shut at the look of warning the professor shoots at you. It’s your bad luck you got caught sneaking books out of the restricted section of the library, it wasn’t as if the books you had your eye on contained dark magic in any case, they  just contained spells deemed too dangerous for idiots like the one standing before you to even attempt. And instead of detention for a month, your Charms Professor who’s always had a soft spot for you suggested you divert your free time to tutoring struggling students instead. 

“Fine”, you snap before turning to the boy. “You better not be as bad as Ushijima - Merlin only knows he was as dumb as a bag of bricks”. 

Bokuto agrees to meet you every Tuesday in an unused classroom for Charms tutoring. You do not care that he seems to wilt ever so slightly at the insults you lob at his Hufflepuff teammate - you have no time to suffer fools, after all. 

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

Unfortunately, while Bokuto doesn’t take everything as literally as Ushijima (it was a problem you faced when you tutored the stone faced boy, especially for a subject requiring as much personal flair as Charms), he struggles with the precise motions and pronunciation needed for Charm incantations, and you’re losing your patience with him after he messes up Aguamenti for the tenth time today. 

“You need to move your wand like a wave of water before pointing it sharply - like you’re shooting a jet of water into a glass”, you repeat yourself in exasperation. 

He tries his best, waving his wand exaggeratedly but forgets the emphasis on the second syllable, so his wand remains completely dry. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes. “Look - it’s really not that hard. If you remembered all the notes I gave you about this charm, you’d have gotten it by now. Merlin - what’s wrong with you dumb Quidditch Players?” 

“It’s not that easy to remember everything when you keep calling me dumb all the time”, Bokuto mutters, resentment colouring his tone. 

Your shock that Bokuto - the human embodiment of a sunbeam, seems to have abandoned his usual cheerfulness for an uncharacteristically stormy expression, quickly morphs into annoyance that he has the temerity to get short with you considering you’re the one that’s been forced to give up her Tuesday evenings in an attempt to get him to pass his Charms exams. 

“That’s because you ARE dumb”, you retort coolly. “Try casting the charm again”. 

He shocks you again by gathering his things and walking out of the classroom. 

“Where are you going?”, you call after him, confused. Even Ushijima put up with your insults and snide remarks for an entire term, but Bokuto doesn’t even look back.  

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

Bokuto doesn’t turn up next week either despite struggling in class with the very charm you spent hours trying to hammer into his head. Nor the week after that. Midterms come and go, and you overhear from a group of his twittering fangirls in the bathroom that his spot on the Quidditch team is on the line after failing his Charms exam as expected. 

Guilt gnaws at you. Strange, since you assumed your heart is practically a block of ice by now. 

You spend days trying to corner him to no avail. You always knew he had plenty of friends, but you didn’t realise how popular he actually was. He’s constantly surrounded by his teammates - or even other Quidditch players like Kuroo from Slytherin, or Hinata from Gryffindor, and his childhood best friend Akaashi follows him like a shadow despite being from Ravenclaw, not Hufflepuff. 

So you bide your time and wait until he finishes Quidditch practice, whispering from the shadows “Diffindo” to sever the straps of his bag. Your plan works - Bokuto cheerfully waves his teammates to go on without him, and the horde of hungry Hufflepuff Quidditch players head off to the Great Hall for dinner. 

“Why haven’t you come back for tutoring sessions?” You try to sharpen your question into an accusation, but your guilt makes you falter midway and you just sound bewildered instead. 

Your bewilderment is mirrored in Bokuto’s eyes. “Huh?” he frowns. “I thought you didn’t want to tutor me in the first place, so I asked my friends to help me out instead.”

You snort, tapping your foot. “Akaashi’s a year below, so I doubt he’s much help, and Kuroo’s much better at potions than at charms. And I hear you’re going to get kicked off the team if you don’t pull up your Charms grades in the remedial exams before Christmas.” 

The furrow between his brows deepens. “Why do you care if I’m failing my exams?” 

You’re not accustomed to dealing with someone so straightforward and genuine and innocent. You’re used to conniving serpents like Oikawa and Daishou who would have no hesitation hiding daggers in their sleeves just to get ahead, so the fact that his question is honest floods your belly with guilt.

“Because I feel bad for calling you dumb.” You decide to honour his honesty with a straight answer. “Do you still want me to tutor you if I promise to be nice?” 

Any shadow of lingering guilt is chased away by the sheer sunniness of his smile. 

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

The ice in your heart starts to thaw in the face of his exuberance and friendliness. 

“You’re much nicer than people say you are”, he tells you one day with blunt honesty. “Why don’t you have more friends?”

You shrug, accustomed to the title that your peers have chosen to label you with. The Ice Queen of Slytherin, your housemates whisper behind your back after you slash Miya Atsumu’s robes in your second year, leaving him standing in nothing but his underwear after he pulled your bra strap on a dare. 

Your mother and older sisters taught you self-defense charms even before you entered Hogwarts, and you have no qualms about using them, even against one of the most popular boys in your house. But it proves to be a miscalculation - one that leaves you with few friends other than those who’ve known you since your childhood. 

“I don’t need friends”, you say, words frigid. 

He grins at you, undeterred. “I’ll be your friend!” He declares, leaning forward, balancing his chair precariously on two legs. 

“I’d be happier if you pass your exam”, you tell him dismissively, though there’s an amused curl at the corner of your lips. 

True to his word, Bokuto drags Akaashi over to the Slytherin table during dinner the very next day. You startle as he plops into the empty seat across you, Akaashi giving you a slight nod of acknowledgement that’s also tinged with an unspoken ‘sorry you have to put up with my overly excitable best friend these days’ that you snort at. 

Kuroo rounds up the trio, and between his and Bokuto’s bickering over who’s getting the best pickings from the meat dishes on the table, and Akaashi’s admonishments not to cause a ruckus that fall on deaf ears, you’re so entertained that you laugh aloud, though you wince internally when half the Slytherin table snaps their heads around to stare at you, dumbfounded. 

Miya Osamu actually looks up from his katsudon to elbow his brother. Miya Atsumu chokes on his food. 

You assume it was just a one-off event, Bokuto just trying to repay you with his kindness, but to your surprise, he’s back at least twice a week, and soon your lonely corner at the Slytherin table turns into the most boisterous ones. His very presence draws the most random assortment of people into his sphere - soon you’re joined by Tsukkishima, the quiet, stone faced Ravenclaw, Hinata, Bokuto’s self appointed protege and burgeoning sun in his own right, Sawamura, the stoic, steady Hufflepuff Keeper, on top of the usual suspects like Kuroo and Akaashi. 

Not everyone is as amused by this turn of events. 

“What’s he doing at our table?” 

“I heard he’s being tutored by the Ice Queen herself - maybe that’s why he’s here.” 

“That makes sense. Heard he’s really dumb.” 

You stiffen as you hear your classmates snigger. Bokuto wilts, even the ridiculous mop of hair on his head starts to droop. Kuroo and Akaashi wear twin expressions of murderous intent on their face and both start to rise, insults on their tongues when you whip out your wand, freezing your offending classmate’s lips to his glass. 

“Call him dumb one more time and I’ll freeze your balls to the bench”, you smile sweetly, poison in your words. 

Kuroo guffaws as you turn back to your conversation with them with a saccharine “now, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?” Akaashi snorts into his hands. 

Bokuto looks at you as if you’ve handed him the latest firebolt model on a gilded plate. You refuse to meet his eyes for the rest of the night. 

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

You find that he responds far better to praise than negative reinforcement, bouncing around the classroom with such childlike enthusiasm whenever he succeeds in casting another new charm that it makes your lips tilt upwards. The combination of his Hufflepuff diligence and your renewed patience makes his performance in charms skyrocket, and soon, he’s improved enough for you to teach him the more fiddly, advanced charms. 

‘You have to flick your wrist lightly’, you tell him for the fifth time this evening. Ascendio is a difficult charm to master, even by your own standards, your own wrist already sore from the various rounds of demonstration. 

He tries to mirror your action. It doesn’t work. 

‘Um.’ You rack your brains, thinking of something, anything that might help. 

Ah.

‘You’ve got to move your whole arm like it’s the wing of a snitch. You know – keep the arm and wrist action light, like the flutter of wings.’

He furls his brow, trying to mirror your action again. It doesn’t work. This time, he pouts. 

Impatient, you grab his hand. ‘Look!’ You slap at his arm to get him to loosen up – seriously, what do they feed these quidditch players, taut muscles tensing beneath your fingers as you try to puppet his arm into an approximation of the wrist movement. He gazes down at you with wide eyes as you press your form against him. 

‘I’ll show it to you again. Ascendio’, you call, and with a sharp flick of your wrist, your feet lift off the ground, your skirt fluttering in the air. Then with a smooth swish of your wand, you descend to the ground, cocking your head to your student. ‘Come on, Bokuto, you’ve got to master it by the end of the night.’

He tries again and again to no avail. Charms is a far more creative branch of magic than transfiguration or even potions – and what works for one might not work for another. You recalibrate, trying to relate what you’re teaching to his true love - Quidditch. 

‘Maybe you could imitate the movement of a snitch about to take off once the whistle blows?’ 

 ‘A snitch?’ he laughs boisterously at your suggestion. ‘I could do that.’ 

He screws up his eyes tightly, his entire body falling still before he raises his arm. With a flick and swish, a hooted “Ascendio”, Bokuto floats up into the air.

“I did it!” He pumps his fists in the air, grinning down at you. Then with a smooth finite incantatem, he descends back to the grimy classroom floor. 

“Well done!” You laugh aloud, clapping your hands, so drunk with elation at his success that you don’t notice the sudden softness in his golden eyes. 

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

“Waiting for Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asks. 

You hesitate for a beat, a pink tint to the apples of your cheeks before you nod without a word. 

“I’ll leave you two be then”, the Ravenclaw boy says, walking off with his hands tucked in his robes, a small smile flickering on his face. 

You exhale slowly through your nose. Maybe you should have left Akaashi to wait for Bokuto instead - they’re best friends, practically platonic soulmates you gather from Bokuto’s chatter as he walks you back to the Slytherin dungeons every Tuesday night, something he insists on despite your protests. You’re just his tutor - but here you are, hanging around outside the classroom where his remedial exam is being held, palms clammy in nervous anticipation. 

You tell yourself that you’re waiting for him because you can’t wait to know whether the tutoring sessions that take up your precious Tuesday evenings will end. You wonder if that means that he’ll stop coming over to hang out over dinner with you, the thought making your heart feel as if it’s frosted over again. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” His booming voice interrupts your reverie, and you glance up to see him burst out of the classroom, the joy on his face outshining even the sun. 

“You passed, I assume”, you snark, hands on hips, but he doesn’t even register your badly disguised coldness, grabbing by the waist to lift you easily into the air, spinning you in circles until you’re both giddy with delight. 

“I did, I did, thanks to you!” He crows, still clinging on to you like a lifeline. “They were so impressed when I cast Ascendio, and I was like swish, and they were like aughhh wahhhhh - and it was so awesome!” 

“I’m glad my effort paid off then, dummy”, you tease - seriously, it would make your housemates’ jaws drop if they caught you giggling, let alone being held aloft in Bokuto’s arms, but you’re just so happy for him that you don’t order him to put you down. 

He stills suddenly, and you’re worried that he’s taken offense at the affectionate nickname until you notice his eyes are trained at the arch above you and oh - 

Mistletoe. 

It’s Christmas, and the house elves have hung enchanted sprigs of mistletoe around the castle on the orders of the mischievous headmaster to prank unsuspecting students. Any student trapped under enchanted mistletoe may only be released upon giving or receiving a kiss, and you’re about to press a chaste kiss to Bokuto’s nose when you glance back at him and notice his eyes are molten gold, laden with desire. 

“Bokuto - “ you begin, but you’re promptly cut off by the searing brand of his lips against yours, gasping as he backs you against the wall, his mouth plundering yours. You should protest, but any sentient thought you might have is lost in your newly awakened hunger for him, this beautiful, sweet boy with golden eyes and silver hair who’s kissing you. 

“I like you,” he says breathlessly when you finally push him away in an effort to pull air into your deprived lungs. “Go out with me - please?” he adds, almost as an afterthought, brushing his thumb against your cheek with a gentleness that belies his large frame crowding you against the wall. 

You want to, oh Merlin - you want to indulge in the warmth that’s starting to sprout in the previously frozen tundra of your heart but you have to recognise that he’s Bokuto Koutaro, Quidditch player extraordinaire bound for the professional leagues, so popular that he already has a fanclub in school. 

And you - you were a social pariah before you met him, you would ruin his reputation if anyone finds out that you’re in a relationship with him, not to mention you’ve been accused of being cold and distant and harsh - all characteristics that disqualify you from being a good match for him. 

“I can’t.” You shake your head, keeping him an arm’s length distance from you, because if he comes any closer, you might lose your resolve. “We wouldn’t work out at all”.

The golden light dims in his eyes, and his arms fall limply to his side.  “Is it because I’m dumb?” He asks, his voice heartbreakingly quiet. 

“No!” You cry, taking a step towards him. “That’s not it at all!” 

He frowns, confused. “Then why don’t you wanna go out with me? Don’t you like me?” 

“I do”, you admit, hating yourself for having to extinguish the spark of hope in his eyes. “But we won’t work out -” 

“Why’re you so sure of that?” He takes a step forward, reaching towards you. You knock his hands away and he stumbles back, stung. 

“Because I’m not good enough for you!” You shout, your words echoing against the castle walls. “Because I’m snarky and frigid and cold and rotten to the core - and you’re wonderful and funny and sweet and you deserve so much better than me”. 

Your words stun him into silence, and before he can work out a response, before your resolve starts to crumble, you take a large step away from him. With trembling hands, you reinforce the frozen fort in your heart, forcing yourself to beat a hasty retreat. 

“Besides”, you add, voice shaking. “What could I possibly offer you?” 

You disappear around the corner, coldly ignoring him even as he calls your name. 

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

“He’s wandering around the castle like a lovelorn ghost”, Akaashi says, dropping into the library seat across yours. 

“Explain why that makes it my business”, you hiss with the indignation of a cornered boggart with no means of escape. 

He just gives you a knowing look and you glance at the skulking librarian, wondering if you should risk a detention to drive your sharpest quill into the back of the Ravenclaw boy’s hand. 

“You know, it’s sad you think so little of Bokuto-san that you refuse to allow him to make choices for himself.” 

“What are you - “ 

“It’s true, isn’t it?” His gaze remains resolute, even as you snarl. “Why don’t you prove me wrong?” 

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

But you’re stubborn, so you avert your eyes whenever Bokuto comes into your line of sight, changing seats so you don’t sit anywhere near him in Charms, escaping whenever he tries to call your name. Your Tuesday tutoring sessions with him are a thing of the past. You even hear from Miya Osamu that Bokuto’s been trying and failing to bribe first years into letting him into the Slytherin Dungeons, though they’re all far too frightened of your reputation to even dream of crossing you, not even for the bait of a ride on his rare firebolt.

You’re lonely, but you refuse to admit it to yourself.   

You even refuse to watch the match between Hufflepuff and Slytherin despite it being touted as the social event of the year. Both team’s lineups are exceedingly impressive. Representing Hufflepuff there are powerful players like Bokuto, Ushijma, Azumane, even surly Kyoutani. Slytherin’s certainly no slouch either, with Oikawa, Suna, Daishou, Kuroo and the Miya twins. 

But you huddle in the library and ignore the screams and cheers of the whole school spectating the match until Akaashi skids into the library, distress clear on his face. 

“He’s injured”, he manages to spit out between heaving breaths, and you don’t even need to ask who he is, panic turning your ribs into kindling, burning a blaze through your chest as you sprint full speed towards the hospital wing. 

Quidditch is a horrendously dangerous sport - the Daily Prophet Sports Section is full of horrendous injuries like long lasting concussions and smashed bones that you’re already imagining the worst by the time you cross the threshold of the hospital wing. But Bokuto’s not even lying on the cot - he’s sitting upright, a confused yet hopeful expression on his face as you stare at him, dumbfounded. 

“A-Akaashi said you were injured”, you manage to stutter. 

Bokuto waves a bandaged finger at you. “Yep”, he says, taking wary steps one at a time towards you. “Suna got me good when I was about to catch the snitch”. 

“Oh”, you say lamely. “I see.” You’re thankful no one else is in the hospital wing to see your disgrace. “I’ll be going, then”. 

“Wait! Please don’t run away again”, he begs, taking advantage of your distracted state to catch your hand, his fingers circling your wrist easily. You tug against his grip, but it’s futile - you’ve left your wand in the library in your mad rush, and years of Quidditch training have sculpted Bokuto into the human embodiment of a brick wall.

“Let go of me!” You order him in the coldest tone you can muster. It’s not even icy - in fact, it’s probably lukewarm.  

He shakes his head, as stubborn as you. “Not until you hear me out”, he replies, pulling you out of the hospital wing into the nearest unused classroom. 

“Fine.” You cross your arms. “What do you want to say to me then?”

“Well for starters, you’re the most amazing, scary girl I know”, he says, grinning boyishly at you. “You’re so much smarter than me I don’t know how your head doesn’t go pfft cos it sure isn’t large enough to hold all your brains. And you’re nice - I don’t know why you pretend you’re not - Yachi said you cursed the boys who teased her ‘cos you found her in the bathroom crying, even though you literally met her for the first time - “ 

“Why are you telling me this?” You cut in, confused. 

“Cos you asked me what you could offer me” He answers simply, his fingers slotting in between yours. “The answer is you. I want you. I like you.” His grin softens into a bashful, goofy, adorable smile. “And I know I’m not smart like you or Akaashi, but I know enough to think you like me too.”  

Your mind is entreating you not to give in, reminding you that you’ll only drag him down with you but your selfish heart wins out. The weeks you’ve voluntarily isolated yourself from Bokuto have been cold and lonely, and the truth is you miss him - you miss the silly jokes he makes, the playful banter, his boundless confidence and kindness and friendliness. Maybe that makes you selfish, but you can’t deny it any longer, you want him for yourself.

So you reply with a shy smile of your own. “Maybe I do - like you, I mean”, you say, with an earnestness you must have learnt from him, tilting your face up towards him like a flower seeking the sun. 

His eyes grow wide with delight as you step into the circle of his arms, allowing him to draw you against his broad chest. 

“And to be honest, maybe I’m the fool for not letting myself admit that I’ve always liked you”. 

“Don’t call yourself tha - mmmph!” 

This time it’s your turn to interrupt him with a kiss, tipping his head down to slide your lips against his, the heat in his eyes and the sunshine in his smile that finally melting the last vestiges of ice in your heart and transforming you from a snow maiden into a girl made of flesh and bone. 

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

Akaashi convinces you to sneak into the holding area before the next match between Slytherin and Hufflepuff. 

You’re self conscious, constantly adjusting the scarf in Hufflepuff yellow and black looped around your throat, but that immediately dissolves when Bokuto whoops the minute he spots you, bounding over to sweep you into an embrace, demanding at least twenty kisses before he lets you go. 

You oblige, because when faced with Bokuto’s pleading eyes, you’re weak, soft.  

Then you realise why Akaashi was so insistent on you surprising Bokuto just before his big match. 

Miya Atsumu falls off his broom, slack jawed. Miya Osamu trips over him. Even Suna Rintarou looks at you and Bokuto with a modicum of fear and respect. 

“Get it together!” Kuroo snaps at his team, hands on hips. 

None of that registers with Bokuto, of course. The minute the whistle blows, he speeds off, leaving even Oikawa in the dust, and before a dazed Miya Atsumu even scores once against Daichi, the Hufflepuff keeper, Bokuto is already holding the golden snitch aloft in his hand. He proceeds to do laps of aerial cartwheels around the pitch before hovering in front of the stands where you sit, shamelessly blowing kisses towards you. 

You hide your burning face in your hands. Akaashi just sits beside you, intolerably smug. Bokuto, oblivious as ever, just whoops.