#tHE REST HE IS JUST SINCERELY AN ASSHOLE

[tswwwit]

Bill being forced to say the truth is such a fun concept though. I imagine Ford's the most likely candidate to hit Bill with a truth spell. Now he can expose Bill's nature once and for all! And find out what secret evil plans the demon has involving his nephew. 😠

Only it completely backfires because Bill acts the exact same as he usually does? After all, Bill usually doesn't have a reason to lie to the Pines family. Will he omit the truth? Totally! But rarely does he outright lie.

(But anyway, the plan backfires and Stan and Mabel are not convinced. "Yeah Bill's a jerk but he's not actually harmful", they say, with no knowledge of the countless atrocities he's committed.)

So Bill continues to act like his usual asshole self, completely unaware that he's under the influence of a truth spell. Until he sees his husband do something smart/cute/whatever. Before Bill even realizes, he's saying the sappiest, most gooey sedimental shit any demon has ever heard. Like "You're perfect, I love you so much". Completely unfiltered thoughts. The stuff he even lies to himself about. "You make me so happy. I'm so glad I met you".

The best part is that the situation is even worse (for Bill) the angrier he gets. "I hate you" comes out as "I love you". "You're the worst thing that ever happened to me" comes out as "The best thing". At one point, he accidentally says you're lucky I love you when he meant to be threatening. Everything is terrible. Dippers trying to figure out a cure and Bill can't help because he's to busy throwing up his organs. All the sedimental bullshit is making him sick.

[astralleywright]

i have made the "orym read theory" joke like three times today alone but. i think it would genuinely be very helpful for him to develop an overarching philosophy through which to understand the world and the structure of power, because the simplistic "nice guy" approach to morality has utterly failed him in this moment.

[here-lies-they-ran-outta-luck]

Prettiest Witch at Hogwarts (Theodore Nott x fem!reader)

Warnings: small italian!thoe, friends to lovers, comfort, angst, cussing, flirting, bad writing

a/n- this was not a request, but I did have a really good time writing it! I love this fic so much for no reason

word count- 847

“You, my dear, are the prettiest girl I have ever met,” Pansy said, dropping her voice an octave, reenacting what a boy had done to you today in an attempt to woo you. Her hand brushing your cheek the same way the boy had attempted to do makes you burst out in a loud laughter, causing the rest of the group to follow along.

“The poor bloke! Did he seriously think that would work?” Mattheo cackles, wiping a tear from his eye.

“I swear, I can never get a break! You four are the only boys that don’t chase after me!” You sigh, leaning back into the cushion of the couch, unbeknownst to you Pansy sends Theo a small smirk with raised eyebrows. Pansy was the only person that knew about your mild crush on Theodore Nott, your best friend. Pansy and Mattheo both knew that Theo has been in love with you for years. To everyone though, it was obvious that the lingering glances meant more than friends to the both of you.

The group decided to spend the rest of the night making fun of all of the boys that have tried to get with you since your growth spurt in 4th year.

“You’re gonna let me take you out to Hogsmeade, right?” Adriand Pucy, a boy you have rejected over and over since day one, asks you, leaning up against the exit of the Slytherin common room.

“Haven’t I told you no already today?” You reply, stopping and looking up at him with disgust present on your face.

“I know you don’t have a date, so why don’t you just give me a chance, let me take you out,” The boy says, pushing off of the wall in what was supposed to look attractive, ultimately failing in the end though.

“Who told you she doesn’t have a date? Come on bella, lets go,” Theo says, slinging his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer into him, engulfing you in the smell of his expensive-smelling cologne.

“Out of all the boys she could choose you really think she’d pick you? You wouldn’t even be on her top ten,” Pucy says, glaring at the taller boy.

“Merlin Pucy, have some self respect! If you ever thought you had a chance with me you certainly have less of one than before,” you say, giving him the dirtiest look you could possibly muster, and pulling Theo away from him and towards your dorm.

You knew Theo almost better than you knew yourself. Even though Theo was the most handsome boy in the school and had his fair share of women, you knew that the mean words Pucy had said would get to him atelast a little bit. He was a Slytherin, but deep down he was still the sensitive boy you’d known for years.

“Are you alright, Theo?” You ask, sitting on your bed and scooting over so he could have room.

“I should be the one asking you that,” He replied with a sad smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You know that Pucy is just an asshole right? You would definitely be in at least my top 3,” You say after a couple of seconds, attempting to lighten the mood and make him feel better. 

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better,” He says, looking at you with his sad blue eyes.

“Theo, I’m not lying,” You answer, scooting towards him to show your sincereness.

“Did one of them tell you?” He says, hurt filling his eyes and his body language rigid.

“Did who tell me what?” You ask, putting a hand on his back to comfort him, his posture relaxing a little.

Theo looks up at you, his eyes softening a little, “You’re so amazing,” He says softly after a couple of seconds of looking at you.

“Oh come on Theo,” You say, blushing slightly, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“It’s true. You’re so beautiful,” He says, putting some hair behind your ear, and giving you a smile, showing you his beautifully crooked teeth.

“And you are a flirt. To think you’d never chase after me,” You say, giving him the same smile.

“Would I- um, would I really be in the top three guys?” He asks, looking at you with a serious expression.

“I would date you before I even gave another guy even a look,” You reply, giving him a soft look.

“Are you sure about that though? You know I’m kind of a mess up,” He says, looking away from you.

“It means more to me that you think that I’m amazing and beautiful. I don’t think I would even be able to explain to you how it makes me feel when you call me by your stupid Italian nicknames,” You reply, waiting for an answer. You don’t wait long and you don’t get a verbal response. Theo pulls you in and gives you a soft kiss on your lips. It’s not how he kisses girls at parties, it’s soft and full of love and adoration.

[emmyrosee]

I missed Katsuki ☹️☹️🩵

——-

The movie plays on in the background, but you’re feeling more than mischievous, unable to be settled in your desire to wreak havoc on katsuki’s life.

Your eyes wander to your man, who’s fixated on the film, fingers on autopilot as he feeds himself chips of Doritos, stuck in a focused loop that your find remarkably endearing.

Good thing you’re here to mess with that.

You glaze over your man with intent to bother him, set him into giving you attention that you’re desperately craving, only for your gaze to settle on his phone, resting on his thigh.

Your fingers crawl from your thigh onto his, slowly as to try and keep him from noticing.

This, of course, doesn’t work, and Katsuki immediately grabs the bag of chips up and out of your reach, “dude. I’ll fucking kill you.”

“What?” You giggle.

“I fucking asked you if you wanted something from 7/11, and you said no. Leave my snack alone, asshole.”

“Oh…” you begin. Then you smile at him, “I just wanted your phone,” you explain. With that, he looks you up and down, as if trying to find a lie and that you sincerely wanted a bite of his Doritos. When you quirk your brow expectantly, he’s quick to pass you his phone.

“Passcode is Denki’s birthday.”

“Why is it Denki’s birthday?”

“Because if it was my birthday or yours, people would be able to get into it,” he explains. “Use your brain, I know it’s hard for you sometimes.”

“Don’t be mean,” you whine; sure enough, when you type in the digits to Denki’s birthday, his phone clicks unlocked, revealing an alphabetical organization of apps. Behind it, his Lock Screen is a picture of you sleeping on his chest, and you smirk at him, “you taking pictures of me sleeping, freak?”

“It’s when I find you most tolerable.” He chuckles when you send him a swift smack to his chest, deeming it safe enough to open the bag of chips and plop one on his tongue. “What’re you looking for anyways?”

“You’re other bitches,” you hum.

He snickers, “my other bitches are your mood swings. And Kiri.”

“I don’t know- seems like things are getting serious between you and denks.”

“I wouldn’t piss on Denki if he was on fire.”

“You know you love him.”

“I love him because of you,” he grumbles. When you angle your head to press a kiss to his jawline, he grunts happily and pauses his eating, almost as if to not disturb you.

“Thank you for letting me into your phone,” you whisper, and he nods and lets out a soft ‘anytime,’ before tossing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close, his free hand now feeding himself.

You sink your teeth into your lip as your eyes now wander to the bag resting on his lap, “… can I have a bite?”

“I FUCKING KNEW IT-“

[gothghostiie]

Soap being a meanie and flipping your skirt up infront of the rest of 141!!! Everyone can see ur cute panties oh noooo!!!!!

-💦

oh no!!!

cw: flashing/pantsing, bullying, humiliation, soap is his own warning atp, fem!reader

you didn't think anything about wearing a skirt on your day off. you hardly ever wore skirts on base, but you figured it didn't quite matter, no one would really care - you couldn't be more wrong. the second soap saw you in that pretty, short skirt, his mind ran with ideas to use that against you. it's not that soap dislikes you, rather the opposite. soap was just a little asshole with a huge bullying kink; unfortunately you always got to be his little victim. it's not his fault when you're that naive to fall for his traps, no?

you didn't think anything of it when he called you over in the mess hall, the 141 and some others with them. you made your way over there, asking what he wants, he gave you a toothy grin. "nice skirt, lass." the words sounded as sincere as can be, he did think it was a nice skirt - it did give him easy access, one way or the other after all - but you sweet innocent think somehow didn't think he'd be planning something.

with a smile on your pretty face you thanked him - before you could react his hand grabbed the hem of your skirt, lifting it up with a laugh. all you could do was gasp in shock as you froze, the others eyes all darting to the pretty panties you wore. soaps laughter filled the hall, even more as you tried to pull your skirt back down.

"woah, not so fast there, hen. don't think we're done looking." he stood up, you turned around to leave; just for him to immediately get in your way. he grinned down as you crashed into his chest, one arm snaking around your torso and arms to keep you helpless and trapped, the other lifting the back of your skirt this time. no matter how much you squirmed or begged him to let go, to stop it, he'd just chuckle as he watched your pleading expression, pretty eyes filling with tears. the others were chuckling along, some were silently judging soap but no one spoke up as he taunted you like that, even going as far as giving your ass a few playful spanks. "would you look at that, pretty panties like that and you just hide 'em from us. that won't do lass, not at all. you're so lucky I'm here to fix that."

even if the others wouldn't admit to it, they were enjoying soaps taunting almost as much as he was. only difference; you could feels soaps boner press against you every damn time.

[endless-ineffabilities]

The Bolter (part one)

Steve Rogers x f!Reader

synopsis : Steve carries out his decision to return to Peggy, aiming to live out the rest of his days with her. But this means he's leaving everything behind - he's leaving you. Did he make the right choice? Will there be anything left with you to come back to?

in this chapter : Steve is about to walk out of your life, causing you to let go of everything you two have, and everything that could be.

📝 yes, the title is inspired by Taylor Swift's upcoming song The Bolter. In my interpretation and in this story, it is meant to symbolize someone who runs from someone or something. A potential relationship. A loved one. And the choice is not easy, one that may bring a lot of remorse or catharsis? Anyhow - Steve IS a bolter. In the beginning, at least.

themes/warnings : language, angst!!!, pining, unrequited love, Steve is kind of an asshole for leaving (but we love him anyway)

word count : < 1k

main masterlist ▪︎ series masterlist ▪︎ next chapter

This is it.

This must be what true heartbreak feels like.

Steve, your best friend and the unrequited love of your life, has decided to volunteer to return the Infinity Stones to their respective timelines. Very noble of him.

But he also confessed that he plans to stay with Peggy, now that he finally has the chance.

They can have the dance that was stolen from them, decades ago.

Steve can be with his true love it seems. And that person is just not you.

Well, fuck my life.

"Doll," he smiles ruefully, both of your hands encased in his, "say something."

Say something, he says. What is there to say - I'm in love with you, I want you to stay with me? Don't leave me? I want you stay - for Bucky, for Sam, for Nat. For everyone. For me?

What can you fucking say that will ever be enough? In the 7 years that you've known Steve, you've grown to love him. As a friend, as family. Then, almost inevitably, as the only keeper of your heart. And he knows this.

But he's still leaving. Because, at the end of the day, Peggy is the keeper of his heart.

To you, Steve has always been everything good. Golden boy perfection, with a heart that would put a saint's to shame. Sunshine, laughter, companionship, standing tall and unwavering in his ideals. His gleaming red, white, and blue tendrils snaking their way into the very fibres of your being and taking root.

But now, all you feel is empty. You were angry, when he first told you, days ago. You had almost screamed at him, told him how unfair he was being. You made a long, drawn-out case for Bucky. How he doesn't deserve this. But really, you were making a case for yourself.

Stay, you had said.

He simply smiled, without any mirth. Not like his usual on-brand Steve Rogers gesture of sincerity. He smiled and it did not reach his eyes. He was sad, or maybe he pitied you. And that made you even angrier.

Until minutes later, when you finally broke down, and sobbed quietly in his arms.

"I hate you," you muttered against the creases of his shirt.

"I love you," he said back, and you hated him even more for it. He doesn't get to say that to you, in that way. Not in the same way he would say to Peggy.

Now, right before stepping onto the platform that will cause him to vanish from your life, he says it again.

"You do know that I love you, right?" His smile is genuine, if not a little nervous. He hoped you would be as accepting as Bucky, and send him off with just a rueful look. A gentle, final word. A sweet farewell that he can take with him as a reminder of all the times you spent together.

"I know," you breathe, relenting. Steve does not like that your eyes are glazed over, empty. Like you're not taking him in at all. You take notice of the resulting sag in his shoulders, out of character from the dignified stride he sported as he was saying goodbye to the others.

A big part of you wants to remain indignant. So what if he's hurt or uncomfortable due to your coldness? It serves him right.

"Come here," he whispers, and it comes across a silent plea. Come here? Will you, please?

You take just one small step closer, but he is already ahead, wrapping his arms around your frame. Your stony mask breaks as your cheek presses against his chest, away from his view. His chest plate glistens from your tears, but you don't have it in you to wipe them away.

When he pulls away to look down at you, his heart breaks. He cradles your face in his hands as you look up at him through wet eyelashes, and it's almost enough to make him consider staying.

But then you say, "It will all be okay, Steve." You gingerly pry his hands from your cheeks, giving them a comforting squeeze. "We will be okay."

You look behind you, where Bucky stands watching the exchange, and he offers an encouraging nod.

You take a step back, mustering everything that you possibly can, all the love you have for Steve, to give him one last genuine smile.

"Go get your girl."

Read part two here.

The way I was making myself upset while writing this - god I love angst!!! ~~~

I was gonna keep going, make it even more brutal, but I'll save that for the upcoming parts. It will have some Bucky x reader as well 🖤

God Bless America('s ass).

oh, and let me know if you wish to be tagged!

[floylia]

ELYSIAN ♫

18. Am I wrong? ✎

“So my manager leaked my information.” It’s not a question anymore.

Scara nods apologetically as if he was at fault, eyes gleaming with genuine sincerity. This is the third time, he’s been vulnerable with you. He guides you up the cobblestone path, leading you closer to the Estate’s courtyard. The sun has already grazed its goodbye, only the moon rests above, gleaming at you and Scara. The darkness along the trees, shrubs, and boulders around the garden is eerie but something about his presence soothes your worries—something about his rare smile, hushed voice, and messy hair.

Perhaps it’s everything about him.

You pause in your tracks, watching over the waves on the beach—hands on the wooden fences standing around the courtyard, “Do you think they’ll believe me?”

“They’ll believe you once you tell your side.”

Doubt lingers, “What if they don’t?”

“Then they’re all fuck heads with no hobbies,” He swerves his head, now facing you with narrow eyes, and brows pulled together, “It’s stupid, how some of them graduated with degrees but have no basic sense of empathy or respect. They’re all entitled, gullible, and hypocritical assholes who use every opportunity to deflect their insecurities on others. It’s a crazy world we live in.”

The scowl on his face is almost laughable—how angry at the world he is on your behalf. You take note of Scara's wrath, experiencing it is not for the weak. Although, you don’t need to worry. His patience for you seems limitless.

“I can’t believe Jean lets you handle your social media accounts. You have no filter.”

He scoffs, “She doesn’t, but I find my way. They have to change the password every other week or else I might be permanently banned on every platform.”

You chuckle at his smug expression, “I want your confidence.”

“You already have it, you just need to use it.”

You avoid his gaze, “You sure do have a lot of faith in me.”

“Because I believe in you.”

For how long? You heard those same words before and they never kept their promises. Your agency, your manager. It was blind trust. Funny how life works.

“You blindly trusted me.”

You didn’t mean to say that. But it can’t be helped. What if one day you disappoint him? Will he leave too, like your manager? Or your fans?

“I knew you wouldn’t do that.”

No he didn’t. What did he know?

“There’s always a possibility—“

“But you didn’t and that’s what matters,” He sighs before running a hand through his hair, “Am I wrong for trusting you?”

You shake your head in guilt, realizing you let your doubts slip. Overthinking kills the mood, “It’s just that—“

“Am I wrong for wanting to be with you?” His voice softened.

You squint your eyes, unsure of what he means. You open your mouth to say something, anything to fill the silence, but nothing comes out.

So he inches forward, his left hand rests on your cheek, the other latches down to your waist, gentle and warm—you lean in to his touch, “Is it wrong to be this close?”

“No but—“

“For once please,” He sounds desperate, “Fuck what they think, focus on me and you. They can all go to hell.”

“So tell me: Is it wrong to need you at every moment?”

Once again you shake your head, this time with no interruptions.

“Is it wrong to be with you? To wake up every morning knowing I’m yours—knowing I can flirt shamelessly without doubting your feelings? Knowing I can write songs about you without hiding my love. Knowing I can feed you my favorite dishes without asking: am I doing too much? Or buy you things that remind me of you because not a single day goes by without your presence in my fucked up head.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. Everything is blurry but your gaze remains on Scara. Only him, because it has always been him.

“Am I wrong for feeling this way?” He whispers softly—so gentle that you want to apologize for trying to push him away.

You wrap your arms around his neck, “Kiss me.”

“Can I really?”

“Please.”

He does.

He does like his life depends on it.

Notes:

im on vacation but nothing will stop me from writing 😃

sorry for grammatical errors or spelling mistakes

Synopsis: After 7 years of enduring the media’s relentless pursuit of painting you as a villain, you’re forced to go through an indefinite hiatus with a tainted reputation on your head. However, just when you thought your career was over, a certain 5WIRL member wants you to feature on his solo career. Surely, this won’t affect your reputation once more, would it?

Scaramouche x fem!reader

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[wannaeatramyeon]

Meeting DG for the First Time: Coffee

G/N. Fluffy? Strangers to lovers-ish. Masterlists

"Watch it!" You snap at the pink haired stranger.

Granted the collision wasn't entirely his fault, but he was the one who walked around the corner at breakneck speed, causing you to stumble into him and spill coffee all over yourself.

Not even a single drop landed on him, not even a splatter.

The look of surprise on the guy's face is soon replaced with practised indifference. No apology leaves his lips, he just glances coolly at you before striding off.

"What the hell. So fucking rude!" You snarl at this retreating back, loud enough for him to hear, see a brief pause mid step then he continues on.

Adding one more insult to soothe your temper, you holler, "Stupid pink haired weirdo!"

It does nothing to pacify your ire when you see his shoulders shaking, and a sudden bark of laughter from his direction.

He stops, turns, and grins. Sharp canine on full display and eyes full of mirth.

"Asshole," you mutter, narrowing your eyes and flipping him off.

You continue walking in the opposite direction, not wanting to have him interrupt your day any longer.

That idiot. With the pink hair and the fucking teeth. God how you want to wipe that smile off his stupid face.

.

.

DG is distracted all day.

Seeing your face all scrunched up with righteous anger was frankly adorable. The way there was zero recognition even when you saw him properly, and the viciousness at which you were slinging insults only added to your charm.

If only you thought the same. You spend the rest of your day cursing him.

.

.

Misfortune finds you, and luck finds DG when he sees you again the following week.

He recognises the back of you, your posture, the way you hold yourself.

It's not a surprise to him that he does. After all, he's a genius in many things. There's enemies and his past trying to catch up with him around every corner, it pays dividends to be vigilant. 

What is a surprise though, is the shot of joy at seeing you. The smile he has to hold back.

What should have been a no-nothing encounter has spread like a wildfire, burning his skin and blazing over his entire being.

A brief wrinkle in time - the incident, your insults, your attitude and face screwed up and indignant - has left a mark on him.

Catching up then matching you stride for stride, DG murmurs loud enough for you to hear.

"How's the coffee stains?"

Part of him wonders why he asked that. Why the cold Diego Kang persona is dropped and his old bratty James Lee self has reared its cocky head.

Like being around you has flipped a switch.

You turn to face him, confusion fleeting before you take in his pink hair and the haughty, mischievous expression and your eyes widen in shock and recognition.

The smile that he held back breaks through when he notices your lips pursing, the annoyance painted blatantly on your face as you choose to ignore the question.

"Ruined, I take it?"

"..."

"I'll replace it."

"..."

"It's the least I could do."

Curiosity gets the best of you. "What? The coffee?

"No, your clothes."

Who even offers to buy people clothes?! You give him an incredulous look and receive a full on grin in return. 

There's that damn canine again. You wonder if it's as sharp as it looks.

"No thanks."

DG shrugs, "Ok just the coffee then."

You pull another face at that. Is this guy for real? Is he trying to ask you out for a coffee? Just as you're about to tell him to piss off, he cuts you off-

His next words surprising even himself-

"...And sorry. For running into you like that."

Huh. You think he's sincere, although his expression seems to be constantly trying to challenge you and he looks very full of himself. But at least, his eyes seem genuine.

Your resolve wavers. You can’t believe you’re even agreeing to this.

"Fine. One coffee."

.

.

DG finds you a little awkward and a lot funny. The way you take your coffee is absolutely disgusting, and your loud slurps are an abomination.

It's endearing as hell.

He watches you watching him. Silence sits well with him. It's a powerplay he has learned to use to his advantage. Whoever breaks first, loses. Useful for media shenanigans and negotiating with idol agents. But he sees you fiddling, your glances when you think he's not looking, feels your unease lingering in the air.

And the silence is broken-

"Do you still keep calling me asshole in your head?"

You choke on your coffee, not expecting such a conversation starter. He's not smiling, face blank, but you hear the playfulness behind the words. 

Still, you grimace because it's true.

"And other things." You confess.

"I see."

Then he leans forward. Gives you a nod as a form of introduction.

"I'm Dieg-" he pauses. Thinks he's always been a good judge of character and makes a split decision that he hopes will come to bear fruit. "James Lee."

"James," You say. Casually. Not knowing the weight of the secret he has let you in on. You gesture to the cup in your hand, "Thanks for the coffee."

It's... nice. It's been so long since anyone has called him by his name without any expectation. Or malice or animosity.

A clean slate.

James Lee nods again in acknowledgement and sips quietly on his own drink.

This really is nice.

Fuck it.

"Can I get your number?" He asks, holding out his phone, and internally cringes although the outside remains a mask of cool, self-assured confidence. 

It's been so long since he's had to do this. He's used to actors and starlets and models throwing themselves at him without having to do any leg work. Do people even ask for numbers anymore or is it social media handles now?

"So I can warn you the next time I'm speeding round the corner, drink in hand."

Ugh, what a line, you think, huffing out a laugh. He really is an asshole.

You reach out for it anyway, and tip tap away, adding in your details before handing it back.

"Y/N," James reads, savouring the syllables.

He likes the sound of your name as much as his own on your lips.

[writingduhh]

Can I ask for a fic where you're in one if those 'all men are assholes' type of mood and you're just going OFF on him about this one prick who did something to piss you off and he's listening because you guys are like 🤞🏻 and then he just kisses you because like he loves you but also he was kind of just wanting you to shut up. (Schlatt btw)

Sincerely, All men are assholes

I. Understand. This. Heavily. YOU GET IT! Also absolutely this idea

Jschlatt || Shut Up And Kiss Me

You storm into the living room, practically vibrating with frustration. Your footsteps echo off the hardwood floor, each one more forceful than the last as you let out a huff of indignation.

"I swear, I don't know what it is with men today, but they are all-without exception-absolute assholes!"

You fling your bag onto the couch, not caring that it slides off and lands in a heap on the floor. Your hands fly up in the air, punctuating your words as you pace back and forth, reliving every infuriating detail. Schlatt, who had been relaxing on the couch with his phone, sits up straighter, immediately sensing that you're in one of those moods. He watches you with that familiar mixture of concern and amusement, his brows raised in silent acknowledgment of the storm that's about to hit. He doesn't interrupt; he knows better. This isn't his first rodeo.

"And this guy--this complete waste of space--has the audacity to talk down to me like I'm some kind of idiot! Like, who does he think he is?" you rant, your voice rising with every word.

"And when I call him out on his crap, he has the nerve to act like it's my fault! As if I'm the one who's overreacting! Unbelievable!"

Schlatt nods, his expression serious, though you can see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"What an asshole," he agrees, his voice steady, designed to keep you going. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watches you pace.

"Exactly!" you exclaim, spinning around to face him, hands on your hips. "All men are the same! It's like they're programmed to be assholes from birth. I don't get how you put up with half of your species, honestly. I'd go insane if I had to deal with you guys every day.” He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he continues to listen.

"I'm starting to see why," he says, his tone teasing but gentle. You shoot him a look that's meant to be withering, but it's hard to keep the fire burning when he's looking at you like that-like you're the only thing in the world that matters.

"And another thing”, you continue, though the heat in your voice has cooled ever so slightly, "Why do guys think they can just-"

But you don't get to finish vour sentence. Before you can process what's happening, Schlatt is on his feet, closing the distance between you in a few quick strides.

His hands reach up, gently cupping your face, and before you can get another word out, his lips are on yours in a kiss that's both unexpected and completely disarming.

It's soft and firm all at once, the kind of kiss that takes the wind right out of you and leaves you standing there, breathless. wide-eyed.

For a moment, you're too stunned to respond. Your mind races, trying to catch up with what just happened, but then you feel yourself melting into the kiss, your hands instinctively moving to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his shirt as if it's the only thing keeping you grounded.

When he finally pulls back, you're left staring up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. His hands remain on your cheeks, thumbs gently stroking your skin as he looks down at you with that smug, self-satisfied grin you've come to know so well.

"You done now?" he asks, his voice low and teasing, but there's a warmth in his eyes that softens the playful edge of his words.

You blink up at him, your mind still reeling from the kiss, and then you let out a breathless laugh. "You just kissed me to shut me up, didn't you?"

"Maybe," he admits, his grin widening into something that's equal parts mischievous and affectionate.

"But mostly because I couldn't stand another second of hearing you say all men are assholes when I'm standing right here." You roll your eyes, but there's no hiding the smile tugging at your lips.

"Well, you're the exception, obviously," you concede, still a little breathless from the kiss.

"Damn right I am," he says, his voice filled with that familiar confidence that drives you crazy in all the best ways. He pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist as he gazes down at you, his expression softening into something almost tender.

"Now, are you gonna keep yelling, or can I kiss you again?"

You pretend to think it over, your hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders as you look up at him through your lashes.

"I mean, I was kind of in the middle of a rant," you tease, though your tone is light, playful.

He laughs, a deep, rich sound that sends a shiver down your spine.

"Yeah, I noticed," he says, his voice dropping an octave as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a way that sends your heart racing all over again.

"But I think we both know you'd rather be doing something else."

Before you can respond, he closes the gap between you once more, capturing your lips in another kiss--this one deeper, more insistent. It's the kind of kiss that makes you forget all about the jerk who ruined your day, the kind that reminds you exactly why Schlatt is the exception to every rule. And this time, you don't mind shutting up one bit.

[viviaj]

a man who just wants you and needs you and would do anything for you (gone sexual)

// this is a self-insert.. it can be abt anyone u want ;3 !! but if u need some help: atsumu, kaeya, zoro, wriothesely, shoyo.. literally anyone that’s funny but also ;) KUROO

he’s been making you laugh all night. lighthearted conversation not slowing down, and countless attempts at getting you to roll your eyes at him. he looks good, too, like, casual good. black sweats and freshly washed hair.

he’s sitting on your bed, feet flat on the floor looking up at you as you go about your business. he’s a strange guy, he says something unfunny, yet its hard to not laugh. its cringey and genuinely stupid, yet comforting all the same.

you’ve been parading some new clothes on for yourself, styling pieces for him to nod and approve at. the way you move around is everything to him. he could just watch you, permanently. he wouldn’t need his phone, or a book or a computer. just you.

and that has him hard in his pants. just watching you do your thing, your glow from previously being out, with friends and at the shops— it didn’t matter.

“hey,”

“yeah?” you cheerily turn toward him, eager to keep conversation alive.

“come here,” his smile has you complicit, walking over to him, “wanna sit?”

you look down.

eyes fluttering between how hard he is and his eyes— at how fast this all changed. he’s so pretty and you just want to nod and nod and nod to him, that you’d do anything with him.

“yes, i do. yeah, okay. i don’t wanna hurt you, though, so—”

“here,” he interrupts you, guiding your hips down, “yeah, just like that,” the genuine smile on his face gives you courage.

neither of you dare to move once you’re fully sat, no one shifting or grinding, just resting on each other.

“do you feel what you do to me?” he almost laughs in exasperation. everything he says is so genuine, “i’m hard just thinking about you.” the honesty hurts.

the man underneath you is everything. he’s so sincere now that he’s not trying to make you laugh, not trying to make you roll your eyes at the stupid things he says. he doesn’t have to work for your attention.

“can i move?” you whisper, his cock so painfully there. your eyes don’t move from his.

“yeah, just— shit,” he hisses, “fuck. slowly. just rock back and forth a little.”

and it’s so easy. it’s so easy and he’s looking right at you and he’s telling you how good it feels, and god, don’t you know how long he’s wanted this for?

“is this okay? i mean, does it feel good? am i doing—”

“perfect,” he reaches a hand up to the back of your head, “it’s perfect.” his large hand pulls your head down to his, face to face with what you’re doing, who you’re doing.

he looks down at your lips, breaking the unbreakable eye contact you’d had so far, and presses his lips against yours. your hips stutter here and there, unused to the motion, but desperate to keep it there.

“let me take care of you.”

you nod.

his hands are polite on your hips, firm in how he handles you. he slides himself to the head of the bed, patting right between his open legs.

“saved you a spot,” he grins. and you remember this is the same man from an hour ago. you roll your eyes, yet sit right there, your back pressed to his chest, “this okay?” he says with his hands so close to your waistband. you nod again.

“you’re very compliant with me.” he says, and there’s nothing— no words, that could justify that. because he’s right, “i almost expected you to laugh at me more.” his slender fingers dip beneath your clothes, and he’s kind of an asshole, but he’s touching you so nicely.

“oh,” you grab onto his wrist, “feels good,” he nods against your skin.

his other hand just wants to feel you. the outside of your neck, the crease in your elbow. the curve of your ear, the shape of your breasts.

it’s obsessive.

your head drops onto his shoulder, your eyes turning to meet his and you realise he’s been looking at you this whole time. you avert your eyes, a slight red brushing your cheeks.

he’s still looking at you with a slight smile on his face. “you shy?”

“a little,” you reply for integrity’s sake.

he absolutely beams.

all the while you can feel him right against your back. he’s right there. just playing with you, hooked on every whimper and moan and twitch he can get from you.

“i’ve been waiting so long for you, you have no idea.” his sincerity is overwhelming and so are his fingers.

you nod. because that’s all you can do. “another, another. please.” you pant towards him.

“another what? tell me what you want.” he’s smiling, you can feel it.

“finger. please. can i, please?” oh, he melts. your voice softening for him and your body tense against his cock, he feels like he’s going to cum in his pants. he might.

“of course. whatever you want.” his free hand glides against your jaw, fingers grazing the side of your neck. he needs to kiss it, and bite it and leave something there. maybe as proof that this is real, that he has you how he wants you. feeling good.

so he does, he laps at your neck slowly. his fingers don’t stop fingering you, but he raises his thumb to rub at you. and that has you really going. twitching back into him, jumpy moans and sweet noises coming from you, uncontrollably it seems. your hand goes to cover your mouth.

“don’t ruin a good thing, baby. move your hand. let me hear you.”

“it’s embarrassing,” you stutter out.

he grins again, teeth grazing your neck. “i know. it’s okay.”

and it’s when you cum, with hips bucking and hand gripped onto his wrist, that he doesn’t stop.

tears well up in your eyes, “i came. i came, i came,” you chant, maybe he didn’t notice, maybe he didn’t realise.

“i know.” there’s no emotion in his voice, he’s so concentrated, so invested in what he can get out of you. what sounds, what actions, the way you move. it’s like he’s on a timer, he only has so much of it with you and he needs to milk it to its fullest.

“it’s sensitive, please. it’s too much,” tears well up in your eyes.

“you gonna cry?”

you nod against him.

“i’m sorry,” he presses his lips to where he’s bitten your neck, “brave girl. tough it out.”

what he says leaves you with no choice. something clicks in your head and you nod over and over again.

you whine and cry, blubbering words and sentences that don’t make sense. sensing that you’re going to cum again, you push against his fingers.

“don’t. stay still.”

“i can’t,” you whine, “i can’t again.”

“you can.” he smiles. he smiles and smiles and all you can do is twitch and cry out.

and when you cum for him again, pleasure overwhelming every part of you, he flips you onto your back, strong hands gently laying you back.

“my turn,” his grin melts as he presses the head of his cock into you. he preens at the feeling of you hugging him, “oh fuck. feels perfect. you’re perfect.”

your eyes scrunch closed, blubbering like someone who’s forgotten speech.

he’s sliding in and out of you, wanting to feel every single centimetre of himself in you. it’s heaven and he can’t believe that this will have to end.

your head starts to hit the soft headboard, tears still pilled up from the overstimulation on your body.

and then it just stops. he pulls out of you.

“back to you baby,” his hands slide against you once more, and you know it’s going to end with you sobbing against him.

a fun night.

[paranoiastudio]

Would you fuck me, Art?

pairing: Art Donaldson х f!reader

warnings: 18+ smut, p in v, cheat?

word count: 1,4k

English is not my first language, sorry about mistakes

- Would you fuck me, Art? - You ask point-blank, causing Art to choke on his drink. - If it weren't for Patrick, would you have fucked me?

This conversation should not have happened. You didn’t want to go to this party, but you forced yourself to come. You didn’t want to discuss your relationship with anyone, but Art knew about your last fight with Patrick and approached you himself.

And now, after three bottles of beer and a sincere conversation, you find yourself asking a similar question and understand that stopping now is not an option.

You looked at Art so intently, so alluringly, that he simply could not lie to you. And he decided not to lie, finally admitting how much he was attracted to his friend’s girl.

- I would fuck you right now if you asked. - Art whispers this on your lips.

The air around you becomes heavier every second, you feel the familiar heat in your lower abdomen and lick your lips, only attracting the attention of the man’s gaze to you.

- Would you fuck me?

- Yes. - You answer, perhaps, too quickly.

- If it weren't for Patrick, that's right?

- No. I... I would fuck you now, right here... If you asked me.

Your words seem to have broken Art Donaldson. He looks at you silently, thinking about what he heard. He should leave right now: you're his friend's girlfriend, you're a little drunk and upset, you can make mistakes.

But you still look at him, just five minutes ago you said that you were tired of Patrick and wanted to change something. Does this mean you're leaving Patrick?

- Ask me, Art... - Everything except you loses the sound. How can he refuse you? Art has wanted you, you was so close and yet so far away.

Art is a strong man, with a well-trained will, but even he is now ready to break. All he wants now is to be close to you and he doesn't care about the consequences.

- Let's go. - You accept his hand without objection and follow the guy, noting how soft his skin is. Patrick's hands were heavy and hard, Art's were not like that. Having pushed away this comparison, you turn to the crowd, no one seems to care that you are going up to the second floor.

- Whose room is this? - You lean your back on the door, Art leans towards you, otherwise your whisper would not be able to be heard.

- Guest room. Did you lock it?

You pull the handle twice, wanting to check for sure. After making sure that you won’t be disturbed, I quickly take off my shoes, embarrassed to wear shoes in someone else’s house, and sit down next to Art.

- Are you sure? - Art wanted to know for sure, he had to make sure that you really wanted this.

- More than. And you?

- And I. Can I kiss you? - You push back a strand of hair from your forehead and nod, submitting to the tennis player’s touch. Art kisses your neck, his open mouth exploring your hot skin and his hand squeezing your bare knee, not going any further.

- Don't be afraid, I don't bite painfully. - You giggle, seeing only tenderness and affection in Art’s eyes, not a hint of mockery or playfulness, as was often the case with Patrick.

- I’ll be ready to endure even if you take a bite out of me. - Art strokes your cheek with his thumb.

You reach for the next kiss and lightly bite the man’s lip, trying to force him to open his mouth. Art's tongue is very warm and tastes like a mixture of cider and something bitter. He glides weightlessly, pulling you into a long and affectionate kiss and you move easily, feeling his tenderness embrace you.

- I’ve always wanted you... - Art rests his forehead on your shoulder and runs his nose along your skin. - Patrick just... Damn.

- Hey... - You lift Art’s face by the chin. - He's not here, you know? Patrick is an asshole and we both know it. Looks like I picked the wrong guy...

You push Art onto the bed and sit on top of him. The mention of your arrogant and stubborn boyfriend (ex-boyfriend) made you angry and added courage.

- We don't talk about Patrick anymore, okay? - Art nods, watching you in fascination. - Fine. Now touch me.

You begin to pull off Art’s shirt, your hips rise and the man immediately puts his hands on your legs, stroking the skin and rising higher and higher.

- I don’t think we’ll need that. - You unbutton the tennis player’s light trousers and pull them down along with your underwear just enough to free half-erect cock.

- I... Please. - Art whines underneath you, which can’t help but make you grin, you haven’t even touched him yet. - Please, I want it so much...

You take the penis in your hand and make a few slow movements. The soft skin pleasantly rubs against your hand, with your other hand you would grab Art’s balls, he almost jumps on the bed and shamelessly moves his hips towards you.

- My poor baby... - You coo over the already hard member and lubricate the droplets from the red tip with excitement. - No one has touched you for a long time, right?

Art looks at you pleadingly, he is ready to ask, beg you, but you yourself are already on the verge and won’t be able to tease him for long. Especially when Art gets his finger under the hem of your underwear...

- Oh shit! - You stop all actions, and, lifting up your dress, you move your underwear and push yourself onto Ard Donaldson’s dick.

- God! - He opens his eyes wide and squeezes your hips so hard that you are sure that the dress was torn.

- You're so big... - You didn't lie, Art's dick isn't as long as Patrick's, but his girth stretches you out much better. - So good, Art.

A man bites his lip when he hears his name from your lips, it is one of the most beautiful sounds in the world. You both breathe heavily, getting used to the feeling of complete intimacy, you suddenly realize that you are not using a condom (if you believe Patrick’s stories, Art has never been with anyone at all).

You wiggle your hips, smiling predatorily at another hoarse moan, you always liked men who were not shy about the fact that they were receiving pleasure, and Art, with his heightened sensitivity, was just like that.

You lower your hot palms onto his chest, play with the short blond hairs and lean on him, starting to lift your hips.

Art huffs and whines beneath you, his strong hands gripping the blanket until his skin turns white. He doesn’t take his eyes off you, trying not to close his eyes from the pleasure that you and your beautiful velvet pussy give him, which hugs him so tightly that you want to howl.

- I feel you so deeply... - You push back the unruly hair from your face and smile, it was always nice to be filled, especially with Art. With him you feel a certain exclusivity; he seemed to be in inhuman bliss.

- Please, I... Damn! - Art sharply raises his hips and you hear a loud slap with which your bodies met.

- Touch me. - Art immediately slides his hand between your bodies and rubs your clitoris with his thumb. You spread your legs wider so he can see exactly how he slides in and out of you. - It’s so nice, Art.

His name sounds like a song from your lips and Art moves his hands to your waist, helping you move faster. He feels his own dick twitching and tries not to cum at the moment when you squeeze him especially tightly.

- I'm going to cum. - Your voice trembles and you moan, throwing your head back. - Do not stop...

Art continues to move inside you, cumming profusely and swallowing all his sounds, wanting to listen to your delicious sighs longer. You feel a mixture of your secretions flowing out of you, you feel how Art becomes softer inside you. You feel like you did everything right.

- I think we need to call Patrick. - You're breaking the "We don't talk about Patrick anymore" rule. - I'll take my things.

- I will help you. - Art gently traces circles on the skin of your thighs, the fact that you were still connected did not bother either of you. - I have plenty of space at home.

[eomayas]

exo getting caught simping for you

a/n: it’s ok to be a simp! some are suggestive (jongdae, baekhyun, sehun) this is a bit long btw!

minseok: “i miss you,” he says into the phone, cradling it to his ear. he can practically hear your smile when you respond with i miss you too. “what are you doing right now?” he asks, pulling the blanket closer to his chin and snuggling deeper in the bed. minseok wishes it was you that he was lying with, and not these hotel pillows.

“talking to you,” you reply cheekily. minseok giggles at this the way only a person in love would. “baby, you should probably get some sleep. you have a show tomorrow.” you say and he sighs, his bottom lip jutting out slightly.

“but i want to talk to you!” he whines, somewhat like a child would. you only scoff and tell him that he can call you in the morning after he’s had some rest. “fine. i love you, honey!” he says, just as the hotel door opens and jongin and baekhyun walk in, jongin making a face at him and baekhyun laughing.

“i love you, honey!” jongin mocks, bursting into a fit of giggles. “is that jongin?” you ask, amusement in your voice.

minseoks cheeks turn red. “yes, goodnight, y/n,” he says, rushing to get off of the phone.

“don’t hang up on me!” you say, letting out a light laugh at his embarrassment.

“y/n,” he groans, burying his face into the pillow. jongin and baekhyun are quietly waiting for him to say something so cheesy and incriminating, so that they can use it against him later.

you giggle and sigh. “alright. goodnight minseokie, i love you. tell jongin i love him too,” you say, blowing him a kiss into the phone before hanging up. minseok would have blown one back, but he is already getting mocked by his younger members and can’t handle the teasing he’s going to get for the next few days.

“minseokie!” baekhyun yells, making smooching sounds at him. jongin giggles and joins in, the two men jumping onto his bed and shouting the nickname and pretending to be you on the phone.

minseok wishes he was dead.

junmyeon: “please don’t leave,” your boyfriend groans, burying his face into your neck, holding you close to him. you rub your hands up and down his back soothingly. “come with?” he asks, pulling back to look up at you with wide eyes.

“no,” you say, punctuating it with a kiss. suho let’s out a groan and a fake cry, and you laugh. “you’re such a baby.” you say, running your hands through his hair.

“yours,” he says quietly, and you smile, squeezing him tightly before patting his back and telling him that he needs to get ready to leave. junmyeon stands up straight and looks down at you, a dejected look i’m his face.

“oh my god, you’re so dramatic!” you say, and he cracks a small smile. you gently whack him on the chest and clutches your hand in his, settling it over his heart. “it’s only a few days.” you say, rubbing his forearm with your free hand.

junmyeon juts out his bottom lip slightly. “i dont know what i’ll do without you,” he says, and a brief snort makes you both perk up and look around for culprit, finding sehun wheeling his suitcase behind him.

“you’re so dramatic,” sehun says to junmyeon, laughing at his leader and older friend. junmyeons face sobers, turning bright red at his youngest member making fun of him and seeing him in such a vulnerable state.

“go away,” junmyeon all but whines and stomps his foot as he says it, making you giggle at him. he rolls his eyes at you and you wave goodbye to sehun who (for once) listens to what junmyeon tells him to do. “this isn’t funny.”

“it kind of is,” you say, grabbing his hands and pulling him closer to you. he continues to pout, even after you cradle his face in your hands and smush his cheeks together. “i love you, junmy.” you say. he only hums in response and you gasp, letting go of him. “say it back, asshole!”

he smiles and pulls you back towards him. “i love you, y/n,” he says, his voice sincere. junmyeon puts his hands on your hips and leans down to your level, brushing his nose with yours. he gets close to your lips and you pull back slightly.

“i’m gonna miss you,” you whisper, looking into his eyes. he gives you a soft smile, and this time you let him kiss you, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. it’s probably too intimate of a kiss for public, but neither of you show any signs of caring.

“we’re leaving without you!” minseok and jongin shout, breaking up your kiss with your man. junmyeon sighs and goes back to pouting almost immediately, and you gently push him away from you and towards his group members who are starting to board the jet. “hurry up, lover boy!” minseok shouts before disappearing into the jet.

“go,” you say, pulling away from him at last. junmy sighs again, finally starting to head towards the jet, looking over his shoulder at you dramatically like they do in the movies. you giggle at that and wave once he gets up to the door of the plane. “i love you!” you shout, and rather than getting a response from him, the rest of the exos shout. “i love you too!”

baekhyun: you smile at your boyfriend on facetime as he hums absentmindedly. he’s looking away from the camera, and you get a nice view of his side profile. “baek,” you say, resting the side of your head in your palm.

“hmm?” he says and turns to the camera, a soft smile on his face. you smile back at him, hearts probably taking the shape of your eyes.

“i love you,” you say, suddenly feeling very embarrassed. he smiles wide, showing his teeth and making his eyes crinkle.

“i love you too,” he says. you hear a door open on his side, and he turns around to greet whoever it is. “hey, junmyeon. say hi to y/n.” he says, moving the camera to show his leader. junmyeon crosses him arms over his his bare chest, trying to shield himself from you.

“hi, y/n. sorry i’m not dressed, i just showered,” he says apologetically.

“it’s alright,” you reply.

“what do you mean it’s alright?” baekhyun shouts, turning the camera back to his face, sporting an incredulous expression.

you roll your eyes. “you know what i meant,” you say.

“you should only be alright with seeing me naked,” baekhyun says.

“i’m more than okay with that,” you say, and he smiles. he pretends to lift his shirt up, and junmyeon yells at him to stop, not while he’s still digging for his pajamas. you only giggle and add, “you can get naked whenever.”

“can you wait a second!?” junmyeon yells, frantically digging around his bag for his clothing so he can lock himself in the bathroom and get away from you and baekhyun.

jongdae: “you know i miss you,” you say into the phone, a hand on your chest, right over your heart where jongdae lives.

“yeah? how much?” he asks teasingly, a big smile on his face. he leans his shoulder into the wall and crosses one leg behind the other.

“a lot,” you reply, unable to contain your smile. so far, every conversation you’ve had with him since he’s been gone on tour. "she misses you too." you add coolly, biting the inside of your cheek.

jongdae's cheeks tinge pink and he looks down at the floor. "yeah?" he manages, putting a hand on the back of his neck, his face only getting redder at the thought of you. its been too long since hes had you.

"mhm. we miss you a lot."

he only smiles to himself and says "both of you can show me how much when i get back," just as the door to the practice room opens and kyungsoo enters, his eyes narrowed in jongdae's direction. when jongdae blushes bright red at getting caught, kyungsoo raises his eyebrows, a knowing smirk on his face. "baby, i gotta go." he says, clearing his throat and straightening his posture.

on the other line, you frown. "fine. but you are upsetting us." jongdae glances over at kyungsoo who has taken a seat on the floor, preoccupied with his phone.

"i'll make it up to you," he says, turning his back to kyungsoo's direction. "swear i will. just be good." he says lowly, already embarrassed from kyungsoo walking in on the both of you having borderline phone sex.

"don't know if i can do that, dae. we really miss you. she's getting lonely; nothing feels as good as you do," you sigh, resting your head on the couch pillow.

jongdae forces himself to think about anything other than your words in order to stop a tent from forming in his pants. "kyungsoo is here," he mutters, many minutes too late.

you gasp. "oh my god, jongdae! can he hear me?" you panic, irritated that he let it get that far with an audience.

"i dont think so?" your fiancee replies, his voice unsure.

"oh my god, bye, jongdae," you say, and hang up before he can get another word in. jongdae lets out a breath and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to rid his brain of images of you on top and underneath him.

turning around and sliding his phone back into his pocket, jongdae starts walking over to kyungsoo. kyungsoo lifts his eyes from his phone at the sound of jongdaes footsteps and says, "you should really turn your phone volume down," making jongdae stop in his tracks get insanely red in the face, embarrassment flooding his body.

chanyeol: "wait, listen to this real quick," chanyeol says, scrolling through his laptop to find the track he had showed you a few weeks ago. he's changed a few things and added more drums and a flute--he really values your opinion on his music and wants you to hear what hes made.

you wait patiently for him to click play. the opening notes make you smile as you remember the way you told him he should let them play before he stacks them and blends the sounds together. "replay that part," you say when you hear something new.

chanyeol rewinds a few seconds and presses play before asking, "this part?"

you listen and gasp when you hear it again. "yes! pause it!" you shout over the phone. "did you add a violin?" you ask, a smile on your face.

chanyeol smiles at the phone, impressed with the way you've enhanced your musical knowledge and have noticed little things, like the violin strings that are stacked behind drums. "i did," he says, proudly.

you sigh in awe of him. "yeolie you're so... you're so cool," you gush, like a little schoolgirl talking to her crush. everything about chanyeol amazes you and makes you smile, and yes, maybe it’s because you’re in love with him, but you also would like to think that it would be this way even if you weren’t, if you were just friends or some fan.

chanyeol can’t help but blush at your words, the tips of his ears turning red in the way that you love. “aw, he’s blushing!” jongin says, taking the phone away from chanyeol to tell you. you smile, your heart swelling at the image your brain conjures up.

“are his ears turning red?” you ask and chanyeol yells in protest, only making his blush deepen.

“of course,” jongin replies, ducking out of reach when chanyeol swings to hit him. you only giggle and sigh, feeling mildly upset that you are not there to witness one of you favorite things ever.

“give me back my phone!” chanyeol says, reaching around jongin for it, but the younger man is too quick and gets out of the desk chair and crosses the studio in record time.

“you know, he’s made, like, four songs for you. i don’t know why he didn’t show you one of those,” he says, a devilish grin on his face, though he’s telling the truth. at this admission, chanyeol launches himself from his seat. “i’m sorry! please! here, take it back!” he pleads, holding out his phone for chanyeol to take back and shielding his body from the blows that don’t come.

“shut the fuck up,” chanyeol groans at jongin, taking the phone off speaker and it putting it to his ear. “ignore him.” he says to you, running a hand through his hair.

“…so you didn’t write four songs for me?” you question. chanyeol bites the inside of his cheek, not ready to admit that yes, he did write four songs for you, most of which have lyrics that he hasn’t let anybody hear. “yeol.”

“hmm?” he says, settling back into his chair at the engineering table, his face burning. you smile, because you’ve got your answer.

kyungsoo: you run your hands over kyungsoo's newly shaved head, grimacing a bit when you run your hands the opposite direction of the cut and the follicles prick your fingers. "you don't like it?" he asks after seeing your face.

"i love it, actually. just feels weird," you say, dragging your hands down to the sides of his face and smiling down at him. kyungsoo gives you a small smile. he turns his head to the side and kisses the inside of your palm, your heart melting in your chest. "hi." you say shyly, kyungsoo leaning into your touch.

he smiles up at you, his eyes crinkling around the edges. "hi, pretty," he says, and you could just die. you remove your hands from the sides of his face and put them on his shoulders and adjust yourself in his lap so you are fully facing him and your legs are on either side of him, knees resting on the couch. kyungsoo laces his hands together behind your back, loosely holding you against him. “you look really pretty today.”

“just today?”

kyungsoos cheek turn a light shade of pink. “always,” he says, you smile at him and lean down to place a gentle kiss on his lips. the door to the lounge opens, and all 7 of the exos walk in loudly.

“y/n!” they shout when they see you on kyungsoos lap, making kyungsoo and you pull apart resignedly. irritation is etched on your boyfriends face at the interruption, and you gently pinch his cheek before moving to turn around.

“hi, you gu- kyungsoo, let me get up,” you say when he holds you tightly on his lap, making you turn around uncomfortably to greet the other members. at your request, kyungsoo let’s you get up with a sigh, holding onto the back of your skirt so you don’t accidentally flash the men behind you. “you guys did great tonight!” you compliment when you’re finally standing up and facing them.

a conversation breaks out, and you don’t notice when you lean against the couch and drape your arm over kyungsoos shoulder, gently stroking the side of his face. you both hold hands with your free one, and he rubs the inside of your palm with his thumb.

it’s only when you notice chanyeol cut his eyes at you and kyungsoo being so clingy that you smile. “kyungsoo, i’ve never seen you act like this!” he says, his eyes wide.

“like what?” kyungsoo asks absentmindedly, looking up at you with eyes that make your knees weak and your heart beat faster.

“so cheesy, and-“ kyungsoo snaps his head to look at chanyeol, daring him to finish his sentence. chanyeol closes his mouth, a nervous smile on his face just from a look from kyungsoo alone. the other members wait in silence, as do you, with amusement on their face, waiting for chanyeol to continue and claim his fate or to surrender. “never mind.” he says, waving kyungsoo off.

a collective giggle is let out in the room, and kyungsoo looks up at you with wide eyes, unaware of the effect he has on people.

jongin: “here,” jongin says softly, holding out his fork in front of your face. you try to take it out of his hands and he pulls it back, shaking his head. “let me do it.” he says, a shy smile on his face.

you comply and open your mouth, letting him feed you. “is it good?” he asks, watching you with so much love in his eyes it’s slightly overwhelming. you nod and give him a thumbs up, swallowing the food. jongin smiles and gives you a soft kiss on your lips.

this goes for the rest of the night; he’ll present food in front of your face and wait for you to open up to feed you, ask you if it’s good, and then kiss you. it’s sweet, really, and you don’t think anything of it, even after the rest of the exos join you for your meal.

sometimes you feed jongin, but most of the time he steals it off your plate or you put it on his. it becomes second nature for you both. “ooh, let me try that,” you say, pointing to the dessert that kyungsoo places down in front of jongin. your boyfriend cuts off a piece, giving you the first bite.

you accept the food and your eyes widen as you taste it. “kyungsoo, this is really good!” you say after you chew and swallow. he gives you a kind smile and thanks you.

jongin already has another bite of food waiting for you when you turn back to ask him, and you accept it with a smile on your face. he can only smile back, resisting the urge to grab your face and just kiss you until the sun rises, his group members be damned.

the man made sound of a whip cracking makes you and jongin snap your head in the direction, eyes falling on jongdae, minseok, baekhyun, and junmyeon all giggling, or holding back laughs. you smirk and look over at jongin, who wears an annoyed expression. “whatever,” he mumbles. you rub his back and he leans into you, making the situation worse because even kyungsoo joins in on the teasing, pantomiming cracking a whip and making the noise as well.

sehun: you cage your arms around him and put your chin on the center of his chest, looking up at him. sehun looks down at you with a small smile. “you’re cute,” he says, and if his arms weren’t pressed so tightly against his sides he’d boop your nose.

“so are you,” you say to him, loosening your hold around him and instead wrapping your arms around his waist.

“i know,” he says, and you roll your eyes. sehun moves hair out of your face and leans down to place a kiss on your lips. “cmon, let’s finish.” he says, sliding out of your grip. the two of you had choreographed a dance to a song you both liked, and had been using the exo practice room for a few hours now.

you nod and he jogs over to the speaker to play the song again, and then comes back to get into the starting position. you watch yourself in the mirror as you hit all of the moves, your feet feeling like they barely touch the floor. sehun watches you too, getting lost in the way that you move so freely, like you’re weightless and gravity isn’t any concern of yours.

he misses a few steps and you notice, smirking at him through the mirror. “keep up, lover boy,” you say, doing the last few moves as the song comes to a close. you wipe your sweaty forehead with the hem of your shirt, and sehun comes over to you, just as the door to the practice room opens. you turn and wave at jongdae, and he greets you and sehun with a wave, his phone pressed to his ear.

sehun takes this moment to pull you closer to him by your shirt. you let out a light laugh at him, and awkwardly keep your hands off of him because youre both sweaty. “i’m all gross,” you say.

“me too,” and he leans down and kisses you, his hands sticking to your skin through your shirt. you hold onto his arms, cringing at the feeling of sticky skin on sticky skin, and pull away.

“it’s too gross,” you say, making a face. sehun frowns at you, and you have to hold back a smile.

“you think i’m gross?”

“when we’re both sweaty? yes,” you say say, putting your hands on your hips.

“i like you when you’re sweaty,” sehun replies. “i like you when you’re all dirty.” he adds, making you exclaim in protest and draw the attention of jongdae, who just gives you both a disgusted look.

[jobean12-blog]

Have A Little Pun

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader 

Word Count: 1,007

Summary: Joel has more than one reason to smile now. 

Author’s Note: Well, we all know I love a good pun and any time I throw them in a fic well, that’s just the most fun. Also, The Last of Us is slowly burying me under emotional damage and I need to think about things like this-the show is amazing and I love it so-but these moments are everything to help me get through haha! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you sweets! 🥰

Warnings: Soft fluffs and even some smiles

*There are some small spoilers from Episode 4 and 6 here, nothing plot wise really but some dialogue stuff- you have been warned 🥰*

GIF NOT MINE: Credit goes to @joelmjller​ thank you lovely 🥰

Joel Miller Masterlist 

“You know I can hear you two,” Joel drawls from his spot by the window.

You and Ellie exchange wide eyed glances before erupting into hushed giggles.

“We’re just trying to have a few laughs,” you counter, raising an expectant brow.

Joel levels you with a look that says he’s not amused.

“Come on, one of these has to make that fucker laugh,” Ellie whispers as she turns the page of the book.

She points to a pun and covers her mouth.

“Hey Joel. I’ve got one for you,” Ellie starts. “Doesn’t matter how much you push the envelope…it’ll still be stationary.”

She lifts her eyes from the book and smiles at Joel. He narrows his eyes and purses his lips.

“Shit,” Ellie groans, but despite Joel’s grumpiness she still laughs.

“I’ve seen him smile before,” you tell Ellie. “We can get him to crack.”

She holds your gaze and her eyes soften. “He definitely smiles more since you’re around.”

You give her shoulder a soft bump and whisper a quiet “thanks.”

“Oh! What about this one,” she says excitedly.

“Hey Joel,” Ellie says, grabbing his attention again. “Why did the scarecrow get an award?”

Joel pushes off the wall with a grunt and slings the rifle over his back as he moves past you and Ellie and says, without looking back, “because he was outstanding in his field.”

“You dick. You read this didn’t you!” Ellie exclaims with a laugh.

You try to cover your snort but when Joel turns around with his deadpan expression it only makes you laugh harder.

“Gimme that,” you tell Ellie, reaching for the book. “I’m gonna find a really good one that has to make him laugh.”

After an hour of thumbing through it, your finger running over page after page, you finally find one that you don’t think he can resist. With a pep in your step you trot over to Joel, who is now sitting on the edge of an overturned cabinet, his arms crossed over his chest and an extra grumpy look on his face.

You slip in front of him and rest your hands on his thighs, eyeing Ellie over his shoulder with an assured look.

He remains still, his expression neutral as he holds your stare expectantly.

“Did you know diarrhea is hereditary?”

You ask the question with such sincerity that you see his resolve waiver, his features relaxing just for a moment.

Even so he doesn’t smile.

“What?” he replies.

“It runs in your genes.”

You crack a smile and can’t stop the laughter that escapes as you wait for his reaction.

“Jesus,” he mumbles as he drops his head with an exasperated shake.

Despite his grumbling his shoulders start to jump and it makes you laugh harder.

“That is so god damn stupid,” he says, keeping his face hidden.

“YOU LAUGHED YOU ASSHOLE!” you shout as you dance in front of him.  

When he lifts his head you see his slight smirk just before he chuckles again, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“HE’S LAUGHING!” you say again, catching Ellie’s eye.

She’s smiles widely before she exclaims, “gotcha fucker.”

He straightens up and puts his hands on his hips, ready to give both you and Ellie a snarky retort but you start to laugh harder, which causes him to do the same.

Without thinking you launch yourself at him and throw your arms around his neck.

With a light ‘oof’ he catches you and at first seems surprised, his body slightly tense, but when you don’t let go he tentatively closes his arms around your waist.

You squeeze him harder and he lowers his head to your neck, your name leaving his lips on a soft inhale.

When you finally pull away it’s only enough to slide down his body and look him in the eyes.

He’s lips are still turned up into a smirk.

“I like this look on you. Not that I mind the grumpiness…considering it’s almost all the time.”

His lips twitch and you can tell he’s fighting a bigger grin.

“You’re allowed to smile you know,” you tease.

“And you’re definitely allowed to kiss her,” Ellie chimes, suddenly standing beside you.

Joel’s eyes go wide and you can feel his fingers dig into your skin.

“Ellie,” you chide, but it comes out soft as you turn to give her a ‘what the fuck’ look.

“What? I’m not blind,” she says, her tone full of sass. “I see the way he looks at you when he doesn’t think you’re paying attention.”

You drag your eyes away from Ellie and find Joel staring at you.

“Ellie,” he says gruffly, his eyes still on you. “Why don’t you go take a quick look around.”

Ellie nods with a sly smile and grabs her gun.

“Don’t forget to…” Joel starts as he turns Ellie’s way but his mouth shuts quickly when she interrupts him.

“I’ll be quiet and check my six, find the high ground and look for tracks,” she says knowingly. “Don’t worry.”

She winks at Joel before smiling your way and turns on her heel, skipping out the door, clearly following Joel’s instructions.

Joel watches her for a moment before he slowly brings his eyes back to you.

“I really have to teach her to keep her mouth shut,” he murmurs.

“Don’t think that’s possible,” you answer, “and besides, I think she’s just what you need.”

He hums low in acknowledgement as he pulls you closer. “Might need a lil’ more than that darlin’.”

“And what might that be?” you ask him.

His eyes drop to your lips as he smooths one hand up your back. His free hand lifts to your face and he presses his fingers under your chin to tilt your head back.

He lets out an exhale, your name a whisper on his lips as he dips his head. He pauses for a moment, his mouth hovering just above yours and he smiles, and you smile back, before he leans in to kiss you.

[estellan0vella]

No Pass, Just BITCH ❀ includes: Gojo, Sukuna ft Uraume, Toji & Ino (Requested)

Masterlist

You’re in the kitchen, the savory aroma of dinner filling the air as you move around, checking the oven and stirring the pot on the stove. It’s been a long day, but you’re almost done preparing a meal that you know Satoru will love. You smile to yourself, thinking about how he always appreciates your cooking.

Just as you’re about to finish up, you hear him call from the other room, his voice loud and clear, "Hey, bitch! When’s dinner ready?"

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you freeze. Did he really just call you that? Your heart sinks, and a wave of hurt washes over you. You’ve never heard him speak to you like that before. You try to brush it off, thinking maybe you misheard, but the sting lingers.

You turn off the stove and wipe your hands on a towel, your appetite suddenly gone. As you walk into the living room, you see Gojo lounging on the couch, a casual smile on his face as he scrolls through his phone.

"Did you just call me a bitch?" you ask, your voice shaking slightly.

He looks up, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Yeah, why? What’s the problem?"

You feel a lump form in your throat. "That’s not okay, Satoru. It really hurt my feelings."

For a moment, there’s silence. Then, Gojo’s eyes widen, and he jumps up from the couch, his face filled with genuine concern. "Oh my god, babe, I’m so sorry. I was just messing with you! It was supposed to be a prank. I didn’t mean to hurt you."

You cross your arms, looking away as tears threaten to spill. "Well, it wasn’t funny."

He steps closer, reaching out to gently cup your face. "I’m really sorry. I thought it would be a harmless joke, but I see now that it wasn’t. Please forgive me?"

You take a deep breath, feeling the sincerity in his apology. Slowly, you nod, still feeling a bit shaken. "Just… don’t do it again, okay? Words like that aren’t a joke."

Gojo pulls you into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I promise, I won’t. I love you too much to ever hurt you again. Now, how about we finish making dinner together? I’ll even do the dishes."

A small smile tugs at your lips as you lean into his embrace. "Okay. But you’re on dish duty for the rest of the week."

He chuckles, rubbing your back soothingly. "Deal. And again, I’m really sorry."

You nod, feeling the tension slowly melt away. "Just make sure the food doesn’t burn while we’re in here."

Gojo grins, leading you back to the kitchen. "I’ll be your sous chef tonight. Let’s make this the best dinner ever."

"Asshole," You mutter under your breath and Gojo huffs out a laugh.

"Deserved,"

You’re in the kitchen, carefully chopping vegetables for dinner, when you hear Sukuna’s voice booming from outside the kitchen.

“Hey, bitch! When’s dinner ready?”

You freeze, the knife hovering mid-air. The insult stings, and you feel your face heat up with a mix of anger and hurt. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions, but the sharpness of his words makes it hard.

Before you can respond, Uraume whirls around from the sink, their usually calm expression twisted in disapproval. They cross their arms and fix Sukuna with a stern look.

“Lord Sukuna, that was completely uncalled for,” Uraume says, their voice sharp and reprimanding. “You can’t speak to them like that.”

Sukuna leans against the doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips. He seems entirely unbothered by Uraume’s scolding.

“Oh, come on, Uraume. It’s just a joke,” he says, waving a dismissive hand. “Lighten up a bit.”

Uraume’s eyes narrow, and they take a step closer to him. “A joke or not, it was disrespectful. You owe them an apology.”

You glance between the two of them, feeling a bit lost and still stung by Sukuna’s words. Sukuna’s smirk fades slightly as he looks at you, realizing the impact of his “joke.”

He sighs, pushing off the doorframe and walking over to you. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry. It was just a prank, I didn’t mean to upset you.” His tone is softer now, more sincere.

You stare at him for a moment, the sincerity in his eyes making it hard to stay angry. Finally, you nod, accepting his apology. “Just… don’t do it again, okay?”

Sukuna grins and ruffles your hair playfully. “Promise. Now, how about that dinner?”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. As you turn back to the vegetables, you hear Uraume give a small, satisfied huff.

“Thank you, Lord Sukuna,” Uraume says, their tone lighter before they glance at you with a small smirk. “And don’t forget, respect goes both ways. So go ahead”

"Dickhead," You say and Sukuna laughs, tossing his head back.

"Nicely done,"

You're in the kitchen, chopping vegetables and humming softly to yourself, enjoying the quiet moment of preparation. The evening sun filters through the window, casting a warm glow over the countertops and filling the room with a cosy ambience.

Suddenly, Toji Fushiguro strides in, his presence as commanding as ever. Without so much as a greeting, he leans against the doorway and crosses his arms, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Hey, bitch, when's dinner gonna be ready?" he asks, his tone casual but the words hitting you like a slap in the face.

Your hands freeze mid-chop, and you turn to glare at him, anger bubbling up inside you. "Excuse me?" you snap, your voice sharp. "What did you just call me?"

Toji's smirk widens, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint. "You heard me," he says, clearly unfazed by your reaction.

Without thinking, you grab the nearest spatula and hurl it in his direction. It whizzes past his head and clatters against the wall behind him. Toji bursts into laughter, the sound echoing through the kitchen.

"What the hell, Toji?" you shout, your face flushed with anger. "What's wrong with you?"

He raises his hands in a placating gesture, still chuckling. "Relax, it's just a prank," he says, shaking his head. "I didn't mean it. I was just messing with you."

You stare at him, your heart still pounding with fury, but now mixed with a hint of confusion. "A prank?" you repeat, your voice laced with disbelief.

Toji nods, his laughter dying down as he walks over to you. "Yeah, just a prank," he says, placing a hand on your shoulder. "I didn't mean to piss you off. Just wanted to see your reaction."

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. "Well, congratulations, you got one," you mutter, swatting his hand away.

Toji grins and pulls you into a quick hug. "Sorry, couldn't resist," he says, his voice softer now. "Dinner smells great, by the way."

You sigh, shaking your head but unable to suppress a small smile. "Just don't call me that again," you warn, pointing a finger at him.

"Promise," he replies, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Now, how can I help to make it up to you?"

You hand him a knife, the tension easing out of the room as you both get back to preparing dinner together, the earlier anger fading into the background.

You’re bustling around the kitchen, trying to get dinner ready after a long day. The scent of sizzling garlic and onions fills the air, mixing with the tangy aroma of tomatoes and herbs simmering in a pot. You’re focused, almost lost in the rhythmic chopping of vegetables when you hear the front door creak open.

Ino strides in, his usual confident swagger evident in every step. He tosses his bag onto the couch and makes a beeline for the kitchen. Without any preamble, he leans against the counter, crosses his arms, and smirks. “Hey, bitch, when’s dinner ready?”

The words hit you like a slap. Your jaw tightens, and you can feel a hot flush creeping up your neck. You turn to face him, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?” you snap, gripping the wooden spoon in your hand like a weapon. “What did you just call me?”

Ino’s smirk doesn’t falter. “You heard me. I asked when dinner’s ready.”

You see red. Without thinking, you grab the nearest object—a half-full glass of water—and hurl it at him. He dodges, but not quickly enough. The glass shatters against the wall, and water splashes across his shirt.

“Are you out of your mind?” you shout, furious. “How dare you talk to me like that!”

For a moment, the room is silent, the tension thick and suffocating. Then, Ino bursts into laughter, holding up his hands in surrender. “Wait, wait! It’s just a prank! Relax, okay?”

You glare at him, chest heaving, trying to process his words. “A prank?” you echo, incredulous.

“Yeah,” he says, still chuckling. “I was just messing with you. I didn’t think you’d get so mad. Look, I’m sorry. It was supposed to be funny.”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside you. Slowly, the anger starts to ebb, replaced by a reluctant amusement. “You’re an idiot,” you mutter, shaking your head. “A complete idiot.”

Ino grins, wiping water off his face. “But I’m your idiot,” he says, stepping closer and pulling you into a hug. “Come on, let’s finish dinner together. I promise no more pranks. At least not today.”

You can’t help but smile, the warmth of his embrace melting the last of your anger. “Fine,” you say, leaning into him. “But you owe me. Big time.”

“Deal,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Now, what’s next on the menu, chef? You hopefully"

"Kepp dreaming dickhead," You mutter. "I'm off the menu all week because you think you're a comedian"

"Huh?!"

Requested by @alixezae

[wasabidottie]

The man in the yankees cap part two?!

For some reason, you found yourself still hanging out with him. You couldn’t explain it, really. Normally, you’d be polite, maybe share a coffee, then go your separate ways. But with Schlatt, something was different. His sarcastic quips, gruff charm, and that ridiculous, messy Yankees cap—it all had you hooked in a way you weren’t prepared for.

A few hours had passed since you met, and yet here you were, strolling down the street, laughing more than you had in ages. You’d tried desserts, debated over music, and even gotten into a passionate argument about the best fast-food fries.

“You’re wrong, by the way,” Schlatt was saying, finishing the last bite of the donut you’d gotten him to try. “Waffle fries are a crime against humanity.”

“They’re not a crime,” you shot back, feigning exasperation. “You just don’t have taste.”

“Hey, don’t go questionin’ my taste,” he replied with a smirk, flicking a crumb off his shirt. “I’ve got taste for days.”

“Yeah? You sure about that?” You gestured to his cap, his hair still all over the place beneath it. “Because the jury’s still out on that.”

He glanced at you, deadpan. “Are you just obsessed with my hair, or what? You keep bringing it up.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m fascinated by it, honestly. Like, how does one even get that messy?”

He grinned, running a hand through his hair. “Natural talent, baby. Can’t teach this.”

You shook your head, smiling. “I’m sure.”

There was a comfortable silence as the two of you continued walking, and you caught yourself thinking how easy it all felt. The conversation, the teasing—it was almost too natural, like you’d known him longer than just a few hours. It felt strange, but in the best way.

Then, Schlatt broke the silence.

“So, uh,” he started, a little more serious this time, though his voice still had that playful edge, “you gonna gimme your number, or what?”

You blinked, surprised, and immediately let out a laugh, thinking it was just more banter. “Oh, sure, sure. That’s cute.”

His face didn’t change, though. He raised an eyebrow, looking at you dead-on. “I’m not jokin’, sweetheart.”

That caught you off guard. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “What? You think I spent all day with you for my health? I want your number.”

You tilted your head, half-smiling, trying to gauge if this was some new level of sarcasm. “This isn’t part of the bit? Because you know we’ve been going back and forth for hours…”

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Listen, I’m an asshole, yeah, but I ain’t gonna mess around about that. I like ya. You’re fun, you’re not boring like the rest of these vanilla drinkers out here. And I’m not tryna let this be some random ‘one day and done’ thing.”

You stared at him for a beat, thrown off by his sincerity. “Oh. Wow, okay.” You laughed lightly, more out of surprise than anything else. “Didn’t expect that from you.”

“What, a guy can’t be serious every now and then?” He smirked, though you could see that he was being completely earnest, even if he couldn’t resist adding a little jab. “I’ll admit, I like messin’ with you, but that’s just ‘cause it’s fun. Doesn’t mean I’m not interested.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” you trailed off, biting your lip to suppress a grin. “I thought you were just, I don’t know, playing along with the banter.”

“I mean, I am, but c’mon, you think I’m gonna spend hours with someone who annoys me?” He gave you a look. “You’re funny. And you keep up. That’s rare.”

“Rare, huh?” you echoed, smirking.

“Don’t push it,” he warned, but there was no bite to his words. “So? You gonna give me your number, or am I gonna have to make an entire presentation on why I deserve it?”

“Oh, I’d love to see that presentation,” you teased. “PowerPoint slides and everything.”

“I will find a way,” he said, eyes gleaming. “I’ll even put animations in there. Little star wipes and shit.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, alright. You’ve convinced me. But I still think you’re messing with me.”

He sighed dramatically. “Jesus, you’re tough. I’m not used to havin’ to work this hard. Usually, I just smile, and they fall at my feet.”

“Is that so?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe you’re just losing your touch.”

He placed a hand over his heart, faking a wounded look. “Now that’s just cruel. Here I am, layin’ my soul bare, and you’re kickin’ me while I’m down.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face. “Fine, fine. I’ll give you my number, but you better not use it just to send me bad memes.”

“Oh no, you’ll get the highest quality memes. I’ve got a collection,” he said, grinning as he pulled out his phone. “Now hurry up before I change my mind.”

With a laugh, you grabbed his phone and quickly entered your number, handing it back to him with a playful smile. “There. Happy?”

He glanced at the screen and smirked, tucking his phone away. “Very. You’ll be hearin’ from me. But only after I figure out how to get the taste of that god-awful candle drink outta my mouth.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“Nope. It’s permanently scarred me,” he said dramatically, but then his tone softened just a bit, that same sincerity from earlier creeping back in. “But hey, thanks for hangin’ out today. Wasn’t expectin’ to have this much fun.”

You smiled, feeling a little warmth spread through your chest at his words. “Yeah, me neither. You’re not so bad... when you’re not being a complete jerk.”

“Wow, I’m touched,” he said, clutching his chest again. “Real heartwarming stuff.”

You both laughed, and as the conversation faded into comfortable silence again, you realized just how much you were looking forward to hearing from him. The day had been unexpected, but in the best way. Something about him—gruff, sarcastic, and all—just clicked with you. And if that meant more bad jokes and playful insults in the future, well... you were all for it.

Schlatt shot you one last sideways glance, his grin softening just a bit. “Don’t go ghostin’ me now. I might actually have to put effort into seein’ you again.”

“Oh, the horror,” you replied dryly, but your smile betrayed you.

He tipped his cap. “I’ll text ya.”

As he walked off with his usual swagger, you couldn’t help but watch him go, a grin tugging at your lips. Yeah, this was definitely something.

Note: OKAY OKAY OKAY!! FIRST THINGS FIRST! I don't for a second believe Schlatt would hate waffles fries. In fact I'm sure that man goes crazy for waffle fries. But you know what. I also feel like that man has some crazy hot takes on food just to have them. So I'm taking out my anger about him putting krave in the B tier in his cereal tier list. That shit stung so now I'm trashing his name. ( I'm literally writing fanfiction about him, what am I on about) Okay so I'm yapping a lot but it's really late and I have to be up way too early for class tomorrow because I decided signing up for an 8 am would be a great idea. But real talk it's been a really great couple of days being back to posting on Tumblr, I honestly thought I was done writing on here forever but after all the love you guys have been giving my posts it actually makes me excited to write again :') sorry I'm getting sappy, night night everyone

-dottie

[mandalhoerian]

Shai! Shai! I've thought of another scenario for Leon😊 Altho being a new fan I've come to the conclusion that Leon is the type to believe he's not good enough for his partner, he believes they could do better then him. So imagine a Leon who has finally accepted he has feelings for you and works up the courage to confess only for you to turn the tables on him and say you dont feel good enough for him. I imagine he would be in disbelief? How would he react to his crush telling him "You're too good for me Leon."?

too good for me | leon kennedy x reader

pairing: leon kennedy x reader (unspecified gender) genre: fluff, miscommunication, the "endeared badass x normal person scared shitless of the endeared badass" trope. no spice, unfortunately. only good vibes and leon being head over heels smitten. enjoy! word count: 2.7K? It's short! notes: hi sarah! i am SO SORRY this has taken forever. you requested this one month ago! its been so hectic lately, i've been having health problems that required regular hospital visits and tests upon tests, but now that my surgery (yeah i know... yikes) is authorized i'm only waiting for them to call me for the date and have all the time in the world to get my rest and write. i'm also working on your other (wink wink) request! thank you so much for being patient with me. hope this is what you had in mind! i also added my touch and ideas to it lmao. happy reading!!

🌀 read on ao3!

“You’re too good for me,” is the hesitant, small answer you give him while avoiding eye contact and playing with your fingers in front of your office’s shared coffee maker Leon had made countless paperwork excuses to be able to simply stop by — to his question, that is, about why you wouldn’t go on a simple date with him. 

You puff out an awkward laugh to smooth things over as humorous but it’s forced and not at all sincere. 

It’s taken Leon a whole inner journey (Spain. Mostly the simultaneous trauma and catharsis of Spain) to get over himself to recognize what his heart truly wanted but was too pussy to look at before, yet here you two are. The lone angel in his life telling the failure Leon is that he’s too good? For you?

He simply stares, dumbly standing there, piping hot coffee that’s actually incompatible with his taste buds he insists he must do a detour to get from here simply because you often do, stiff and awkward in his hold, thinking he heard you wrong because he hasn’t gotten a good night’s rest — rest, not sleep — in forever since he came back from Spain. 

He’s been forcing himself to come to work just for a glimpse of you and your pretty face to recharge his battery, heal his soul a bit, let you be all that occupies his mind despite being laid off after that outrageous mission that resulted in the president’s unwanted favor and nightmares upon nightmares with only anxious yet soothing thoughts of you as the best bad out of the worst he’s had to face— and what is it that you said again?  

“You’re joking right?” Leon says, pride not knowing if it should be broken or not because he’s not sure to take this as a rejection, and it isn’t his intention for it to sound that harsh. He’s not some asshole who can’t take no for an answer, it’s your reasoning that has him downright jamming like a gun.

Leon has to remind himself to switch off work mode because now you look mousey as if he has a paw on your tail, shoulders pulled into yourself.  “Sorry!” He feels so bad, heart expanding within his ribcage and it aches, fuck, he just wanted to ask you out and all he’s doing is scaring you. “I’m sorry, you were kidding. I didn’t get it— I’m kinda slow and you sound flat sometimes, of course you weren’t serious, I’m—”

“No, I was serious.” His eyebrows furrow at yet another self-degradation from you. “It’s you who has to be kidding. What do you mean too good for you?”

You are at a loss of words, mouth opening but nothing coming out, and finally look him in the eye and all Leon wants to do is lean down and capture your mouth, he’s heavily distracted by you licking your lips and swallowing, the sighting of the tip of your pink tongue makes his shirt suddenly suffocating and tight. 

“I mean,” you begin tentatively, unaware of what’s going on in his head, vaguely gesturing to Leon. “Well… You’re you, I mean… And I’m. Me. Look at you and look at me. Why would you even…?”

“Hey,” Leon sets his mug on the counter, closing his eyes and pinching the insides with his thumb and pointer. The implications alone sent a zapping headache through his skull that he knows he has to rest to be able to unpack, especially when he’s finally decided on seriously pursuing you in spite of himself. Leon can’t let this remain unaddressed, for your sake and his sanity. “How about I wait for you after work today and we talk about this somewhere else?” He’s squinting. “In detail.”

“We don’t really need to—”

“We do.” Leon wants you to see he’s serious about this — about you. “Because I see something here that I want to pursue and we can’t have any misunderstandings. Would appreciate it if you at least give me the chance to clear the air.”

“P-pursue?” You swallow and Leon’s mind wanders again. “Clear the air you say…”

He breathes in. “Can you give me your phone?”

You slap it into his palm almost immediately, the speed with which you obey him without asking him any questions surprises him. He wants to scold if you’re willing to hand over your mobile to any guy who asks, but supposes it’s not his place — is frustrated this is what it takes to get him annoyed, as well. He isn’t some young adult. Weirdly, you make him feel like one.  

He’s punching his own number in, despite the conflicting feelings, finally feeling like this is getting somewhere and he’s doing it when you start talking again, nervous. “You can uh, clear the air… right here… without taking me to a secondary location…” 

His eyes flick up to yours in confusion and you look to the right immediately, and back to him. To the right. Back to him. It’s somehow comedic, because why do you look like you’re cornered by some bad guy? 

You really look like you want to be anywhere else than here, Leon’s fucking this up and he doesn’t even know what he’s doing wrong. Was he going too fast? Should he have told you his number and let you save it instead? 

You’re mumbling, nervousness clear as day for reasons he can’t fathom, he hears you, but he doesn’t really understand. 

“What? What's wrong?" Leon asks, his voice laced with genuine concern. He takes a step closer, wanting to bridge the gap between you and alleviate whatever discomfort you were experiencing. "You seem... uneasy. Did I do something wrong?"

Your eyes meet his briefly, then quickly shift away again, as if you are struggling to find the right words. 

Leon's heart sinks. His intention wasn’t to make you feel nervous or pressured, especially when he is genuinely trying to connect with you — then, in a brilliant moment of heart-stopping realization, the fact that you might just not be interested slaps him in the face and he’s…

Well. Wouldn’t that be the reality? 

Leon is… He isn’t exactly the ideal man. Not with what he does, and how his life is. He’s aware of that. Have been running from forming connections because of what he knows will end up happening because of that. He can’t get attached and keep losing people — can’t keep getting hurt in the vicious cycle to prevent everyone from getting hurt. It’s been the bane of his existence ever since STRATCOM plucked him off straight from Raccoon City. Even if you work in the same field as him, just different offices, who is to say it will work out anyway? 

He’s getting ahead of himself. You might not like him at all in the first place. Jesus. 

Maybe you see him for what he is. Maybe you think he’s not  —- the effort’s not worth it, and you wouldn’t exactly be wrong in thinking so. You could be wanting something else in life that he only has the desire to give you, and not the promise. He wouldn’t blame you, hell, who would blame someone for being their own person with their thoughts, wishes, wants and goals in life? 

You’re too good for me, really, is his line. It has been right from the beginning, his excuse in running away from his undeniable, frightening attraction to you.

"No, it's not you," you finally managed to articulate, prompting Leon to release the breath he was holding, your voice shaky, playing with your fingers. "I just... I feel a bit overwhelmed. This is all happening so fast, and I never expected..."

Leon nods, his expression softening as he realizes the weight of the situation. He hasn’t fully considered how his sudden confession and determination to pursue you might have caught you off guard. He has been so focused on his own feelings that he hasn’t taken into account your own thoughts and emotions.

"I understand," he replies, voice gentle and reassuring. "I didn't mean to overwhelm you. I just... I couldn't keep my feelings to myself anymore. But please know that I don't expect an immediate answer or any commitment from you. I just… Well. I just wanted to tell you. See where this goes. Or, maybe, if that’s not the case… Get rejected for good so I can move on, you know?"

You laugh a little and it’s genuine — you have no idea how it turns Leon’s heart into putty right where it hangs between two lungs. “Do you really mean all of that?”

“Of course,” he says, offended the tiniest bit. “Why do you think I would joke about something like this?”

“It’s not about you joking, really…” You’re uncomfortable again, hesitating to tell him something. 

“Hey, you can tell me.”

“Can you promise you won’t get mad?”

“What am I, your father?” He snorts. “Come on, tell me.” 

You brace yourself for it and he doesn’t understand why until you say it. “You, um… You’re kinda scary.”

He blinks. “Sorry?”

“Sorry!” You raise your hands up in panic. “I don’t really mean it like that, not to insult you or anything, it’s actually admirable, I’m just saying! Discipline, work ethic, unmatched field performance! You’re very… Very, uh… Intimidating, yeah, that’s the word…? I mean, like… You, uh, you’re famous, you know, we all know your work, you’re very hard working, working hard, very hard work — uh, um… So it’s…”

“I scare you?” Leon swears he felt his eyes get bigger the faster you kept on vomiting words. “You think I would hurt you?” 

“No!” You reject strongly, waving a nervous hand at him. Silence befalls later, which you follow awkwardly with a silent, guilty. “Maybe,” after clearing your throat. 

 He had always strived to be a protector, but he hadn't realized that his image and reputation — what it had become after Spain — could have such an effect on someone he cares about. 

"I never meant to scare you," he says softly, his voice filled with genuine remorse, he puts the coffee mug on the counter and leans his hip on it, shoulders sagging a bit as he crosses his arms. The thought of you only feeling intimidation about him leaves a bitter taste worse than the coffee does. "I guess... I've always been so focused on work, on the dangers just around the corner — I’m aware how it might affect my relationships in the long run so I never attempted to form any at all, but I never realized how it might affect how people see me in the first place. I never wanted to make you, of all people, feel this way. I could never hurt you. Never."

“I didn’t want to imply you’re a guy who’d intentionally hurt someone—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he sighs, ruffling his hair to get rid of the awkwardness. “So I’ve just been bugging you this whole time, huh? Jesus. I’m so sorry.”

“No! No, don’t say that, you’re amazing! You’re like a hero around here…”

“Around here doesn’t mean shit,” he replies curtly, and regrets cursing like that in front of you immediately. It’s unbecoming of him — and doesn’t help his image in your eyes at all. He’s getting frustrated. His tone lowers into a softer, more disappointed, heartfelt one. “I only care about how you think of me.” 

“Well, you’re amazing,” you say again, bashfully this time, and it prompts him to look at you. There’s something shy about you now that has him standing taller in anticipation, wondering if it’s him reading this wrong or not. “It’s pretty well-known if you didn’t know.”

“I don’t know,” he prods, idiot heart fluttering at the way you’re flustered. “What do you think? Besides intimidating, I mean. Not reporting on the local gossip this time, if you don’t mind.”

“You seem like a nice guy,” you settle. The middle ground. “I’ve seen you with the president’s daughter.”

Leon's expression softens at your words, a mixture of relief and gratitude washing over him. He takes a deep breath, trying to let go of the tension that had built up within him. The mention brings a slight smile to his face, memories of Ashley flooding his mind, a fondness evident in his eyes. "Ah, Ashley. Yeah, that was quite the adventure. Though what can you be other than a nice guy when your mission is the president’s daughter?"

“I know a couple people who’d treat her like a package to be delivered. You prioritized her wellbeing more than anything.”

“What else was I supposed to prioritize?”

“You know what I mean. Emotional wellbeing. I’ve read your initial report and her statement. You cared about her.” A smile tugs at your lips, he can tell you’re a bit more comfortable now. "Especially during what you’ve been through. It's impressive how you handle yourself in those situations."

He shrugs modestly, a hint of pride shining in his eyes. You respect him. "I guess you could say it comes with the job. But it's not all action and danger, you know. There's more to me than just being a government agent."

Your curiosity piques, and you tilt your head, prompting him to continue. "Tell me more. What's Leon Kennedy like outside of work and missions?"

It catches him off guard that you want to know more and take the first step. You could have just rejected him. His heart picks up, chest expanding in excitement, he’s glad for the opportunity to share a glimpse of his life beyond the chaos of his work — he’s normally not eager to share pieces of his life like this, but… He’d give it to you on a silver platter, whether it'd lure you in or not. That’s how Leon knows he wants this with you so bad. “I wanna lie to woo you but… Would it be too unattractive to tell I really don’t have a life outside of work? I’m still trying to find some balance in my life. The upper echelon guys are pretty ruthless and demanding. I guess it means I can say I’m into traveling?”

“Is this the cool guy way of saying you’re an introvert these days?”

The unexpectedness of it is what gets him to throw his head back to laugh, and he catches you staring, scrambling to rub his face to get rid of it and regain some composure. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Pretty much.”

“Well,” you gesture at him, there’s a vague pink hue dusting your cheeks. “What are you into, then?”

God, he can’t stop, “Other than you?” from escaping his dumb mouth. He shouldn’t have said it. It’s too corny. So uncalled for. Your mouth hangs open and he wishes he could rewind the tape to take it back and choose some other option. “Say… What about we continue this discussion after work? I know a good coffee place. Let me make it up to you for invading your lunch time. I’ll tell you all about me, what do you say?”

You look at the clock on the wall, he knows you didn’t get to have anything because he decided to turn up and serenade you with unwanted attention, it’s two birds with one stone for him if you decide to accept — he wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t see a perfect moment to seize the chance. 

“Coffee sounds perfect,” you nod, with no pressure from him, and it lifts a great weight off his shoulders. “Would it be okay if I eat something too?”

Why are you so adorable? You don’t know that you own the power to get Leon to have your superiors let you go for the day, but he can’t get too excited right now. “Say the word and it becomes a dinner date.”

It gets you flustered again, you don’t know where to put your hands, and he’s so happy about it. “It’s a weekday… That’d be a bit exhausting…”

“Okay. Coffee date it is.”

He’s noticing you like the cheeky confidence, and it makes sense, considering the intensity had you intimidated. “Thank you,” you say. “I’d like that.”

“Believe me,” Leon can’t stop the grin from overtaking his expression. “My pleasure. You’re honestly too good for me.”

There’s the sudden urge to kiss you when vulnerability and shyness lights up your whole face, but he’ll take it slow. He has to take it slow. For himself.