#they’re like swatting me away

[fresnosnightcrawlers]

coworker keeps touching me to get my attention. kill mode activated.

[buttery-pancakez]

I HATE GNATS WITH A BURNING PASSION I AM LIKE. THE #1 GNAT HATER.

[nereidprinc3ss]

stakeout

in which spencer reid and flirty!reader are stuck in a car together with nothing to entertain themselves but each other.

fluff! warnings/tags: fem!reader, they have little crushes on each other, some of you will not like reader, but spencer does, it’s all banter, lots of teasing, playful insults, jokes about handcuffing so suggestive jokes i guess, so cheesy, reader enjoys flustering spencer, written with earlier seasons spencer in mind a/n: bandages!reader and spencer are so back!! i missed them!! this is SOOO cheesy! cheesiest thing ever! thank you to the person who requested this!!! thank you for giving me an excuse to just write cheesy banter!!! yyyayyyy!!! ilysm

“I am so fucking bored. Am I allowed to say that?”

It’s exactly the kind of thing Spencer should expect you to say, and maybe when you first joined the team it would’ve made him squirm, but now as you drop your binoculars and give him a look, bored, head tilted to shoulder, like you're waiting to be entertained, he only shrugs. Your insouciance is one of the things you know he’s come to love about you and would probably never admit. 

“Who’s going to stop you?”

You bump his shin with the toe of your leather boot and he glances down only momentarily before he’s raising his own binoculars to pick up your slack. 

“You. You don’t like when I swear.”

Spencer makes a face that you can only see the bottom half of. His voice is strained with focus. “Where did you get that idea?”

“Where? The faces you always make. You’re a judgy little bitch, you know that?”

“I don’t judge you for swearing. Frequent and creative use of profanity is correlated with a broader vernacular and greater social intelligence.”

“Oh, shut up. Yes you do.”

“You’re punchy tonight.” The leather of your seat squeaks underneath you as you slide down and groan, loudly. Spencer grimaces as he reaches over, gently swatting your shoulder with the back of his hand. “You should try to be louder. They might not have heard you.”

Your jaw drops indignantly. “Wh—the house is like 300 feet away! They’ve been blasting music all night. And not even, like… good music.”

“What, you don’t like death metal?”

You give him a side-eye. “Do you?”

He shrugs, giving up on the binoculars. A strand of hair has fallen over his face. You fight the urge to fix it. “I don’t know. It’s loud. And grating. And incessant. It begs for attention shamelessly and tactlessly. I’m kind of used to it.”

“Watch your mouth,” you scoff. “It would be a shame if I had to ruin that gorgeous face of yours.”

Spencer smirks and shakes his head disapprovingly, cheeks dusted scarlet. 

“You just can’t help yourself.”

“Who could around you, baby? Look at the bone structure on you. And those sweater vests. Can’t believe you walk around like that. It’s distracting.”

“Baby?” He grumbles, like he’s utterly displeased, but the way he’s losing a fight against that smile tells you otherwise. You lean your head against the headrest, boring your eyes right into his profile and giving him the opportunity for some searing eye contact, should he take you up on it. But for some reason, he can’t seem to look away from the steering wheel. 

“Do you choose them just for me?”

There are those pretty eyes—on you for maybe a second before they’re darting away. He fiddles with the binoculars in his lap. It’s adorable how much he doesn’t know what to do with himself when you get like this. Morgan once likened it to a cat batting around a mouse. Don’t play with your food, he told you. Take a little pity on the poor kid. He doesn’t know what he’s up against. 

But Morgan’s not here right now. 

“What?”

“Do you pick out your little sweater vests because you know I like them? ’Cause, you know—I also like when you just do a button up. The blazers, too. Those are sexy. But if I had to pick, it would be the sweater vests.”

You reach over to straighten out the grey one he’s got on right now, and he entertains your fiddling for only a moment before catching your wrist in a considerate hold. 

“Alright, can you—can you behave? Please?” He laughs. Unfortunately it makes your stomach flip. 

“Probably not. You could try cuffing me.”

“Or,” he begins, carefully pressing your own hand to your chest, “we could keep our hands to ourselves.”

You pout. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Where’s the fun in getting yelled at if Hotch has to come and unlock you because I dropped the key between the seats?”

“So it’s a maybe on the handcuffs?”

He falls back, eyes fluttering shut like you’re exhausting him, and offering you the perfect vantage point to admire that jawline of his. 

“Alright. Five minutes.”

There’s no way he’s actually taking you up on this. 

“Five minutes of what?”

His head rolls over his shoulder and he gives you a look of his own. “Of silence. I’m begging.”

Oh. 

Well then. 

You settle back in your seat and swing your own binoculars around by the strap. 

“You know, you’d be bored to tears right now if it weren’t for me.”

“I count myself lucky every day,” he says. And despite the sarcastic tone, you actually believe him. 

A moment passes, during which the bubbly tension of your shared repartee fades into a sincere comfortable silence. 

You kick your feet up on the dash. “How about I cuff you? Is that more your speed?”

You’re already grinning when he answers, not bothering to take your eyes off the house outside. 

“You are… astoundingly inappropriate.”

“Well a girl has to try, Spencer.”

[rbfclassy]

more ex husband toji plsssss

BABY DADDY TOJI! — TOJI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...nsfw and sfw headcanons of baby daddy!toji

INFO...baby daddy!toji x fem!reader, toji is also your ex husband, little bit of angst, some fluff, toxic!toji, reader and toji have a daughter, toji is a good dad, possessiveness, arguing, oral (f!receiving), p in v, mentions of marriage, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

baby daddy!toji who is quite literally annoying, always bothering you when he comes over to pick up his daughter. He’ll make jokes about you, constantly poke you. You swear he’s like a big man child

baby daddy!toji who constantly has women wrapped around his arm every few months, and as much as you tell him you don’t want your daughter around that he never listens to you because why would he?

baby daddy!toji who is also your ex husband, little do you know he always keeps his ring in his pocket

baby daddy!toji who still has a soft spot for you. No matter how many arguments or fights your guys get into he is always right behind you in every situation. You called him one night crying because you were stranded at a bar, scared. Toji nearly ran out the house barefoot to come and pick you up

baby daddy!toji who isn’t afraid to say you still look sexy to him. Hand always caressing your cheek before you swat it away and ask him, “don’t you got a girl?” Oh yeah, he does

baby daddy!toji whose relationships never last longer than 2-3 months because they’re simply not you. He knows he’ll never be able to replace you but he still tries (he ends up giving up)

baby daddy!toji who spoils his baby girl, buying her toys, clothes, shoes, whatever she wants. He loves seeing her cute smile and chubby cheeks because she looks just like you

baby daddy!toji who hates how toxic you and him are to each other which ultimately ended up in the downfall of your marriage. But besides that, you two were perfect together and he misses that

baby daddy!toji who loses his shit when he find out through gojo that you’re going on a date with someone. He pulls up to your house banging on the door before you swing it open. He’s barging in, slamming your door shut and y’all instantly get into a heated argument. “Don’t be slamming my doors, Toji! You don’t pay for shit in this house!” You yell, a scowl on your face. “I don’t give a fuck! When were you gonna tell me you were fucking somebody else?!” You weren’t even fucking the guy, you didn’t even get to go out on a date with him yet.

baby daddy!toji who let’s you go out on your date, but he knows he ruined your mood, mentally cursing at himself for being so possessive over you. He can’t help it. That’s why he’s texting you ‘even if we aren’t together you’re still mine’ while you’re on your date. He doesn’t give a shit if the guy sees

baby daddy!toji who shows up to your house unannounced, early in the morning to apologize. “I’m sorry for how I acted, mamas. Let me make it up to you, yeah?” Your knees are pushed to your chest as his tongue is lapping at your clit, long drawn out moans filling the room, your fingers entangled in his hair. “Mmmm, I hate you so much,” You whimper, legs twitching as the pleasurable sensation. “Shhh, just let me make you feel good.”

baby daddy!toji who has your favorite flowers sent to your door as another apology, a note written on the small card asking if you forgive him yet

baby daddy!toji who gets sad whenever your daughter asks why you and him aren’t together anymore, letting a sigh because he knows she’s too young to understand. It’s times like these where he wishes you and him could be happy together. “Let’s just say daddy has been mean to mommy a few times.”

baby daddy!toji who always shows up to the parent events and shows. His baby girl is being featured in a play? He’s there in the audience with you. She’s getting an award for student of the month? He’s right there congratulating her. If he can’t be the best boyfriend, he sure as hell is gonna be the best father

baby daddy!toji who notices the moments when you feel insecure about yourself, noticing the days when you’re quiet and more reserved, noticing how you hide away from him when he picks up your daughter. You’ve been having insecurity issues ever since giving birth to your baby girl and toji hates that you can’t see how good you look all of the time. “That outift looks good on you, might have to give Mia another sibling,” he says with a smile. “Toji!” You gasp, playfully smacking his arm. But he sees that smile on your face and hopes he made your day a little better

baby daddy!toji who got too drunk one night and crashed at your place in the middle of night. He was drunkenly babbling as you were taking care of him. “I miss us. You were my girl. You still are my girl,” he spoke. His words made you freeze as you stopped and stared at him for a moment. “You’re drunk, Toji.” You shook your head. He meant every word he said

baby daddy!toji who pops up when he gets a late night text from you asking him to come over. He’s there in a flash, never able to deny you. You two on each other the minute he walks through the door, sloppily kissing each other while he carries you to the bedroom

baby daddy!toji who can fuck you slow and sensual or fast and rough. His favorite position is missionary so he can look at your pretty face while you cum on his dick for the third time. “Missed me, mamas?” He asks, breathless. You nod with a whimper, eyes searching his, the tip of his dick rubbing against your sweet spot with each thrust of his hips. “Oh fuck, I missed you too.”

baby daddy!toji who swears up and down you’ll be the best he’s ever had, literally wifey material in his eyes. You’re beautiful, amazing personality, a good mother, makes him laugh, and you got good pussy. It’s all worth it when you drive him crazy or make him upset. What more could he ask for? One day he’ll put a ring on it

baby daddy!toji who is big on cuddling. This man is a tank, beefy as hell. Who are you to deny a cuddle from him? He’ll wrap you up in his arms after a bad day or after sex and you just fall asleep instantly

baby daddy!toji who stares down any man that look at you when you ask him to take you to run some errands. If looks could kill, multiple people would be dead. He doesn’t like how they’re practically stripping you with their eyes and having sex with you in their head. Only he can do such a thing—in real life too

baby daddy!toji who gains the courage to talk to you and ask if you’re willing to try again with him and be a family. You’re his forever girl no matter the stupid arguments or situations. He’s scared of what you’ll say but he just needs to know or it’ll always be a dying question in his mind. So, would you?

[pochaccoups]

cw — nsfw minors dni, possessive reader, reader referred to as a woman, oral (f receiving), mention of breeding, creampie, i need other people to stop perceiving my man

Some days dating an idol is everything you’ve ever dreamed of.

Other days you’re reminded that millions, maybe even tens of millions, of other people want him. You’re reminded by the Instagram comments, videos, Tweets, news articles that fawn over him, all of which garner thousands of views and likes from other people who agree—he’s the perfect man. Strong and buff and hot and kind and gorgeous.

They’re not dating him though. You are. And it’s not that you’re insecure—far from it, in fact, because of Seungcheol’s attentiveness—but sometimes when your feed is riddled with things like fancalls where your boyfriend has been trained to play along as a fan’s boyfriend, you just need a little reassurance.

One of the things you love about dating Seungcheol is that for you he’s built a space where you can be entirely honest with him about any anxieties you have. It means that when you do need his reassurance, you don’t hesitate in voicing it.

“Seungcheol, you’re mine right?”

“I hope so,” he quips, scrolling along on his laptop. Unfortunately for you, he’s too accustomed to your clinginess, which means that sometimes he fails to recognise what you want to hear from him.

You swat at his shoulder like an irritated cat. “Tell me you’re mine.”

He looks at you then and realises you’re being entirely serious.

“Why wouldn’t I be yours? Did I do something?” he asks, now shutting his laptop over. Whatever schedule he’d been emailed about gets shoved to the very back of his brain, replaced with only you.

“No, I just-”

“I can’t have a conversation with someone without bringing you up, and you think I’m not yours?” he says, reaching forward to wrap his hands around yours. His thumbs rub circles into your skin because you’ve told him once or twice how comforting you find it.

“I panic if I don’t have the Hello Kitty cherry keychain you got me when I go overseas, and you think I’m not yours?”

You giggle, growing suddenly shy at his words. His ability to woo you with his words even after two years is impressive, though it shouldn’t be a surprise when his suave and charming attitude was what pulled you to him in the first place.

You give a yelp as he tugs you into his lap without warning, presses you flush against his hard body with the strong hands you love so much.

“I’ve been looking at a ring for you, and you think I’m not yours?”

Your mouth parts with bewilderment and your heart skips a beat, though you barely have the time to comprehend the implications of his confession because he’s ghosting his lips against the curve of your neck.

“Have I not been good at showing it? Is that it?” he asks, grazing his teeth against your skin. You’re under his spell already, eyes rolling into your head as you grow breathless. His palms are hot, gliding under your t-shirt—his t-shirt—sending a shiver along your spine. “Or is my princess just clingy?”

You pull away from him just to pout in his face, but his glassy eyes are dark with desire and it means you don’t stand a chance. Not when his hands have moved to your thighs, inching their way between your legs, rubbing softly at your clothed crotch in a way that has you bracing against him immediately.

“Tell me, baby,” he urges, ghosting his lips against your neck, turning you into a puddle with such ease that it’s embarrassing.

“I want you to show me, Cheol,” you admit. Despite the quiver in your voice, you’re stern. “Show me you’re mine.”

He wastes no time tearing your shorts and panties down your legs, sinking to his knees on the floor in front of you, and diving straight between your legs.

He eats you like a man starved, laps at your clit like it’s life or death, peers up at you with hearts in his eyes as you moan and cry so sweetly it makes his dick swell in no time.

Seungcheol has you all mapped out; knows you like the back of his hand. He knows exactly how you’ll whine when he sucks on your clit, how you’ll tug at his hair when he glides his tongue through your folds, how you’ll buck your hips when he circles your clit with the tip of his tongue because you need more.

“More, Cheol,” you cry, echoing his thoughts. So predictable.

He grins against your cunt, pulling back just to let a little glob of saliva drop on it before his mouth latches onto you again. Seungcheol eats you out with a determination that’s dangerous. He’s aware of the telltale signs of your impending orgasm; your moans growing higher and your body unable to stop shifting, and when he knows you’re close, he’ll stop at nothing to give you what you want. What you need.

His tongue grows ruthless, dragging over every inch of your pussy with vigour until you’re crying his name at the top of your lungs and your fingernails are digging into the roots of his hair. He finally lets up a little, just enough so as not to overstimulate you as you cum, and he’s lapping up every drop of your arousal like he hasn’t seen water in weeks.

“I’ll never get over how sweet you taste, fuck,” he utters between the sounds of him slurping at your cunt, and it’s so lewd that your entire body flashes hot.

“Need you in me, baby, please,” you whimper, watching your boyfriend pull away from you with glistening, swollen lips, with his chin and cheeks covered in you. He’s quick to shrug his pants and boxers down his legs, frenzied almost, like he’ll die if he’s not touching you.

Seungcheol leans over you to melt his lips against yours. He’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth in a way that should be overbearing, but there’s an underlying tenderness in the way he kisses you that feels more like he’s pouring his love into you.

“Yours,” he mumbles against your lips. You flinch when he glides his cock along your sensitive cunt, bumps your swollen clit because he can’t help but torture you just a little when you’re all splayed out for him so pretty. His tip catches your hole, making you keen when he still doesn’t slip inside.

“Seungcheol,” you whine, locking your ankles behind his back, pulling him in closer. His face softens when he sees how badly you need it, when he remembers that he’s not making you work for anything, because he has one job and one job only right now—to show you he’s all yours.

In one fluid motion, he slides all the way in, buries himself in you to the absolute hilt like it’s his home, the stretch so good you practically sob. He wastes no time, fucking you with tenacity, letting go of any semblance of self-control the second he feels the warmth of your cunt wrapped around him.

“God, how could I be anyone else’s when this is the pussy I get?” he grunts, fingertips gripping at your hips, guiding you along his fat cock so deliciously that your eyes roll into the back of your head. “My fucking dream woman.”

“You fuck me so good, Cheollie,” you moan, your fingers finding their way to the back of his neck, tugging at the slightly grown out hair there. You pull him in close, your face next to his so your breaths can intertwine, and you whisper, “all mine?”

“All yours. Only yours,” he replies, his thrusts growing faster, harder, more erratic, more debauched from how your pussy grips him, sucks him in. “Let me fill you up, baby. I’ll give you everything.”

You whine at the thought, making him hiss when you clamp down around his cock, but he refuses to slow his pace. In fact, he only fucks you harder into the couch. “Please, yes.”

“Maybe I’ll put my kids in your belly, huh? Will that convince you?”

You nod your head frantically. “Want it, Cheol.”

He only replies with a moan of his own, taking your hands in his and pinning them to the couch. His cock throbs, your cunt dripping wet as you both near the edge of your release.

“Gonna cum for me?” he asks, strained, like he’s holding himself back.

You only nod again, and Seungcheol’s thumb finds your clit, drawing circles until finally he unwinds the knot inside your belly, and you cum with another cry of his name, your walls clenching around him so harshly that he’s spilling inside of you not a moment later.

The kiss he gives you after is so contrastingly soft that you nearly pass out, but it’s the most Choi Seungcheol characteristic you can think of—to fuck you like an animal and kiss you like a loving boyfriend after.

“I love you,” he says, his voice still husky with his orgasm, but there’s nothing but sincerity in his words.

“I love you more,” you reply, smiling like the angel you’re not.

“Not possible.”

“Oh? I don’t believe you, so I guess you’ll just have to show me again.”

Seungcheol narrows his eyes. He pretends to be unamused. He loves it though. He loves being yours.

[euthymiya]

part of me (is part of you) — ft. todoroki touya

you realize for the first time, when touya brings you home to his mother, just how much he looks like her. he realizes for the first time, when he brings you home to his mother, just how much he doesn’t look like his father

before you read: fem reader ; non quirk au + canon divergence (enji is in JAIL) ; established relationship ; touya has tattoos instead of burns (he has one burn scar on his back, though) ; rei lives in a peaceful little home of her own like she deserves ; mentions of fuyumi, natsuo, and shouto ; hints at child and domestic abuse (canon enji core) ; food as a love language

“Keep your schedule free this Friday.”

Touya doesn’t ask, just tells you like he expects it to happen. You roll your eyes, sparing him a glance as he scrolls through his phone sprawled on your couch.

“And if I’m already busy?”

“Then get un-busy,” he grumbles. Then, after a moment of consideration, adds: “you’ll enjoy it, anyway.”

“Why? Are you taking me on a fancy date?” You grin, walking over and giving his head a playful shove. He glares up at you, but lifts his head wordlessly, long enough to let you sit before he lets it fall onto your lap.

“No,” he huffs. “Keep dreaming.”

“You say that,” you tease, poking his cheek as he clicks his teeth, “but you always end up taking me.”

“Not anymore,” he swats your hand away. He pretends to go back to scrolling through his phone, but you can tell he’s not paying attention. Not with how fast his thumb swipes, too quickly to register anything on his screen.

“So what’re we doing?”

“You’ll see.”

“C’mon, Touya,” you flick his forehead, making him grunt unhappily, “you have to tell me. How else will I dress appropriately?”

“Just be yourself.”

“What if my true self is dressing up like a hooker?”

“Well, I’ll appreciate it,” he glances up, giving you a cheeky grin, “my mom might not.”

You pause.

He casually goes back to scrolling through his phone, still not really paying attention like he tries to pretend he his.

“Your mom?”

“The woman who popped me out, that’s the one.”

“We’re meeting her?”

“Well, she’s been nagging about it nonstop,” he sighs, “she wants you to meet the rest of my little siblings eventually, too. There’s no way out of it.”

He sounds irritated by the idea. Unhappy enough that your hand tangles into his hair soothingly, threading through the white strands as his lips curl into a puckered frown.

Touya doesn’t talk about his family. Not much, anyway. Sometimes he gives you short, clipped details about his childhood. Just the fond memories—the ones he hardly looks back on like they’re few and far in between.

Me and my brother Natsuo used to fight over those, he’ll tell you sometimes, when you open a bag of candy.

You sound like my sister, he’ll snort when you cry over his feet on the coffee table.

He has another younger brother too. Shoto, he slurs the name one night, drunk and too far gone to realize what he’s saying, y’know he used to be my dad’s favorite? Before the old man got himself locked up. Man, that brat gets on my nerves.

“You don’t sound too excited,” you murmur softly, running a finger along the bridge of his nose. He shrugs, refusing to look up and meet your gaze.

“S’whatever. Was bound to happen sooner or later. It’s just my mom this time around, anyway—shouldn’t be too bad.”

“I could get sick,” you offer, “from…from sushi you brought me.”

“Why does it have to be my fault,” he snorts, face breaking into a small grin, “I bring you nice things.”

“You do,” you giggle, nodding. “Then…oh! I could twist my ankle falling down the steps. Right on our way there—such a tragedy,” you huff theatrically.

“I like your bright ideas, doll,” he shakes his head, eyes glinting with amusement, “but we might as well get it over with. I already promised her.”

“You sure?” You cup his cheek, staring down at him as he finally looks up at him. Two teal, pretty little eyes staring from your lap. You’ve never gotten a face to match them too, one to show you where they come from.

He grabs your hand, fiddling with your fingers as he mumbles a quiet, “yeah. I’m sure.”

“Okay,” you nod. And then, because you can’t ignore those eyes, you lean down and press a kiss to his forehead.

He relaxes at that, grins as he murmurs, “and then we can fuck on my childhood bed, too.”

“No, Touya. Absolutely not.”

——————————

The drive to Touya’s childhood home takes a good hour. It’s not his first home—he tells you that in the car. His mother moved him and his siblings not long after his father’s trial.

She couldn’t stand being in those walls, he’d mumbled, starting his car, neither could I. The paint was ugly.

I didn’t realize you had an eye for interior design so young, you’d teased. That got a laugh out of him—enough to ease the tension in his shoulders as he drapes a hand on your thigh and starts driving.

You trace the tattoos littering the back of his hand on the way there, finger gentle and light as it maps out the ink on his skin and earns hums of approval from him every now and then.

“We’re here,” he says blandly when he finally parks. “It isn’t much. My mom couldn’t afford something as nice as the one my old man—”

“It’s nice,” you smile sweetly. You mean it. You stare at it with an awed expression as you murmur, “looks cozy.”

Touya pauses, staring at you for a moment before he lets out a shaky breath.

He can’t help but pull you into a kiss—abrupt and hard as his hand cups the back of your head and pulls you against him. “You’re something else,” he mumbles between kisses along your mouth, “you know that?”

“Are you crazy?” You gasp. You still kiss him back, regardless, making him smile smugly into you.

“Why?”

“Your mom might see through the window,” you whisper into his lips, earning a chuckle from him.

“Do you always have to worry?”

“Someone has to,” you hum, rolling your eyes as you finally pull away. You glance at the mirror to make sure your lipgloss isn’t too damaged. (It is. It’s all over Touya’s lips as evidence, too). “You’re not exactly the brightest mind.”

“Well good thing I have you to think for me so I don’t have to,” he says with a wink, sliding out of his door as he does a little jog to reach yours.

You giggle, watching as he opens your door for you and offers you a hand. “Please join me, milady.”

“Why thank you, kind sir,” you beam, taking his hand and stepping out.

Touya spent the better half of his life brooding. Bitter. Something of a cynical guy who hated every happy couple he’d witnessed, wondered why it was like that for them and not him. Not his family. Not his parents. Maybe, if his asshole father had decided to be the husband the old man should’ve been, then he wouldn’t have to dread the idea of you meeting his family.

It feels too real this way. Feels like he has to relive it all just so you can know about it—you deserve to know about it, know about him. And you will. Someday, at least. He doesn’t know if he can handle it right now.

But you seem content with what he gives you, never asking for more than what he offers you little by little. It’s nice. It feels like maybe, in some twisted stroke of luck, maybe he can be a happy couple he used to hate so much, be so jealous of, be so bitter about.

And maybe he could be the husband his father should have been—for you.

But that’s for later. Right now, he has his mother to worry about as you both approach the front door.

“She can be a bit much,” he pauses and murmurs, “just so you know.”

“I think every guy says that about their mom,” you hum.

“You meet a lot of guys and their moms?” He asks offended, giving you a curled pout as you snort.

“No,” you roll your eyes, “quit pouting.”

“M’not pout—”

“Touya,” a voice calls softly before a woman much shorter than him is opening the door and grabbing his cheeks, pulling him down to inspect him.

“Hi mom,” he sighs, letting her study his face before she finally nods approvingly.

“You’ve been eating enough?”

“Yes.”

“Drinking enough water?”

“Yes.”

“Sleeping at normal hours?”

“Yes.”

“No more cigarettes? I mean it.”

“Yes,” he sighs in exasperation, ears burning a slight red. “No more cigarettes.”

“Good,” she nods—and then she looks over at you.

She looks just like him, you think. White hair. Soft, round face. Those pretty lashes you’re so jealous of. The only difference is that she’s missing those beautiful, warm teal eyes of his. Hers are cooler, an icy gray that makes her eyes look sharper compared to Touya’s.

He must have his father’s eyes, you think—it must be why he never looks in the mirror for too long.

“Oh,” she breathes, cupping your own cheeks, “it’s so lovely to meet you—Touya talks so much about you.”

“No I don’t,” he grumbles. “Never mentioned her.”

“Don’t listen to him,” she laughs, admiring you as she holds your face, “he’s very fond of you.”

“Am not,” he huffs. “I don’t even like her that much.”

“I’m sure,” you giggle—his face is turned to the side, the small pieces of his dignity left barely holding him together as he tries to hide his reddened cheeks from you.

His mother ushers you in, hand guiding you on the small of your back as you walk through the small hall into the living room.

It’s as cozy inside as it looks from the outside. Touya’s mother has taken great care to make this house a home. (Rei, she introduces herself. Call me Rei). You suppose it makes sense. Their first house was so far from a home, so desolate of the safeness and comfort it should have had. You don’t know the details—Touya can never talk about it long enough to offer too many.

You’ve stringed together the gist of it through the small details, though.

My old man’s in jail. Gets out sometime next year, I think, he’d said vaguely at the start of your relationship. You didn’t ask any further questions, just squeezing his hand in yours. He squeezed back with a thick swallow.

My mom couldn’t look me in the eyes for years at one point. They reminded her too much of him, he’d said on the first birthday you spent with him. He returned from the other room after a phone call with his mother, eyes hazy and distant as he recalls that small detail of his past. You kissed him extra hard that night.

Got that from my old man, he’d smiled dryly one night, when you’d traced a small burn scar running across his back, pissed him off over something. Don’t remember what. You kissed his scar that night as he slept with his back towards you, curled in your arms.

So much of Touya is foreign to you. So much is not. So much of him is kept locked away to keep him protected so no one who should love him can hurt him again.

This house, however is cozy. Homely. Safe. There are pictures everywhere. That’s the first thing you notice—Touya as a baby, as a toddler, as a young child. Touya on a bike. Touya on the swings. Touya in a pool. Touya grumpy at his high school graduation sandwiched between his two brothers, his sister beaming at the side.

His siblings are everywhere too, of course, but your eyes seem to only find him. He looks happy, you think, despite the less than happy start to his childhood. He looks happy in the few moments stolen by the camera, framed for his mother to look back on.

“You were so tiny,” you giggle, “not much has changed.”

He raises an eyebrow with an amused scoff, shaking his head as he murmurs, “not what you said the other night.”

It’s out of earshot for his mother—or so he thinks. She slaps his shoulder hard enough with a disapproving frown to make him hiss and hold a hand up in surrender.

“Touya,” she scolds, “watch that mouth of yours.”

“Jeez,” he says through a low, petulant grumble, “fine.”

“You let me know if he gives you any trouble,” Rei gives you an apologetic look. You laugh, ruffling your boyfriend’s hair as he clicks his teeth and crosses his arms.

“He’s not much trouble, actually,” you murmur gently, “I think he’s pretty great.”

He softens, face burning with a flush of pink as he looks down at his feet and grunts something under his breath. It sounds something suspiciously close to what a sap, earning an eye roll from you.

But his mother beams—eyes crinkled at the edges as she grabs your hand and pulls you towards the dinner table. There’s plates filled with your favorite dishes, home cooked and piping hot. It makes you realize Touya must have told his mother beforehand: the things you like, the things you don’t. Maybe more.

You lean up, kissing his jaw.

“What was that for?” He mumbles, watching his mother grab plates.

“Because I love you, of course,” you whisper. “I need a reason?”

“You love me, huh? Enough to consider my proposal about my bed?”

“Not that much,” you snort.

He pouts, fighting back a grin as he huffs, “you’re a stick in the mud. Love you too.”

You don’t know much about Touya’s childhood. Bits and parts of the ugliest moments are vaguely familiar to you, shattered pieces of a mosaic you can’t get a full picture of. But you smile at Rei—it feels like grabbing a smooth, unshattered piece and filling in the holes for him, filling in the gaps of love he missed out on.

You take a seat, right beside Touya, watching as his mother insists on plating your food for you. Somehow, despite it being your first time here, it feels like coming home.

This might be considered ooc idk but I write touya and rei how I want idc this is real to me in a non quirk au

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. trying to get your cold boyfriend to crack a smile !

tags. toji fushiguro x female reader. fluff, suggestive at the end. reader gets called ‘girl, doll (face)’

“you should smile some more,” you comment unexpectedly as the television runs in the background. toji raises an eyebrow, amused yet curious at the way you interrupted the peaceful atmosphere.

your sluggish lover looks down at you as you sit up on his lap. his arms loosen up around your waist, though his manly hands don’t leave their favorite spot—your ass. toji gives it a squeeze, huffing at the way you’re blocking his sight with your head, “what ‘re ya on, girl?”

he figures it’s just you trying to strike up a silly little conversation again, for the sake of entertainment. he tilts his head to the side so he could continue watching the show playing on the big screen.

your hands come to cup his face. your palms are actively being prickled by his stubble, the man not having bothered to shave this morning. not that you’re complaining. you love it when toji leaves that stubble on his face. it gives him a more manly look.

“smileeeee,” you exclaim and use both your index fingers to turn the corners of his mouth upwards. his lips are morphed into an awkward, forced smile that makes you frown.

you secretly hoped that toji would go along with your request, but he doesn’t. that same expressionless face stares right back at you. his ‘smile’ instantly disappears the moment you drop your hands to your sides.

the black-haired man runs his fingers up your waist. and arms. he eventually pinches your cheeks for a second, properly positioning your body so he could watch the television in peace. toji places his chin on your shoulder, half lidded eyes lazily following the people on screen.

“i wanna see you smile again, c’mon,” you whine and try to push toji’s head back, but he stubbornly refuses. he easily overpowers you and pins your wrists down against your sides, nearly crushing you in a ‘hug’.

he takes a deep breath and sniffs your perfume. he places a quick kiss on your throat, thinking it’d pacify you for now.

“i would if y’ could make me laugh, doll,” toji answers in a gruff voice. he falls silent again as he’s too focused on the show playing.

you frown at his comment and can’t help but feel slightly offended. you roll your eyes and push back from toji’s tight embrace, if that’s what you can even call it. you pout and cross your arms over your chest. you stare at him, his green eyes glancing back at you for a second.

seeing you get all sulky because of what’s supposed to have been a lighthearted comment, is adorable. though toji doesn’t say that stuff out loud.

“you’re saying i’m not funny?” you ask. it’s more of a rhetorical question. your partner shrugs and yawns, one hand of his sneakily slipping under your shirt. his meaty fingers glide up to your bra, tracing the outline.

it’s another action of his in attempt to distract your mind from this entire conversation. however, it fails as you swat his hand away. toji clicks his tongue and gently swats you back— resulting into a mini fight between the two of you.

your slaps against his biceps may seem hard to you, but to the bulky man they’re child’s play. it feels like nothing, while you’re trying your best to stand up for yourself. toji’s revenge smacks are light taps against your bum and hands.

he’s clearly not putting in any effort unlike you.

“if that’s how you wanna take it, then yeah, y’ ain’t funny,” toji adds fuel to the fire, amused by how upset you’re getting. he doesn’t mean anything he’s saying; he’s simply interested in your adorable reactions. you look cute—thinking you’re doing something to him while you slap his bicep as response to his sneaky remarks.

you huff and roll your eyes. the little unserious tussle between toji and you continues. “bastard,” you answer and stick your tongue out to him. your lover lets out a puff of air through his nose at your weak attempt of insulting him.

he indulges you again.

“what’ddya say there?” toji questions in a low tone. he easily grips your wrists and flips you over until your back hits the soft sofa. your hands are gathered above your head and his face is close to yours.

that doesn’t stop you from being bratty, however, no matter how intimating toji tries to act. his black bangs brush against your forehead due to the proximity between you both.

“bastaaaaaard, you’re an asshole,” you shamelessly continue, your voice echoing in his ear. the black-haired man stares at you with a blank stare for a couple seconds, letting you blow off some steam.

you don’t know how cute you are right now to him. toji could just eat you up right then and there. having his girl try to act fierce around him is such an endearing sight.

without knowing it, toji’s scarred lips curl up, a faint smile appearing on his face. he doesn’t bother moving or setting your hands free.

“heh, right—i am, aye?” your lover nods and places a chaste kiss against your jawline, biting that same place not a second later. he lifts his head up and stares down at you with that same subtle smile.

you’re a bit shocked by the fact that he actually smiled. you love seeing toji show hints of happiness, which he rarely does. but when he smiles, you know it’s going to be a beautiful sight.

and it sure is now.

you’re too caught up staring at his handsome face to realise that that cherished smile has turned into a teasing grin. toji’s free hand slides up to grab your bottom lip, pulling back and letting go to watch it bounce back in place. his warm breath gently hits your cheek and you feel a shiver run down your spine;

“y’know if y’ want to, i can show ya how much of an asshole i really can be, doll face.”

[always-just-red]

Hii! I've seen some Pregnancy scenario with LaD's men, but I have this HC-- personally for Sylus. That when fem!reader got pregnant, he didn't really understand how the Pregnancy hormones work, until he experienced one and he got confused how he should act or react because it's feels like he's walking on landime, one wrong move/word, she'd throwing tantrum or being sulky at him

I've heard from my Friend who got pregnant before, when she craving something and her Husband showing any form that he can't fulfill what she's craves, she felt her heart broken, and she'd sulk and acted as if he just cheated on her. The problem is, she always craved something that didn't even exist at that moment😂, she's craving certain type of Mango while it's not even that Mango season, so nobody selling it. He literally being desperate to negotiate with her cravings

So... Can I request a scenario smiliar like that? It doesn't have to be mango, or any foods. Just... how Pregnancy hormones or Cravings could make Sylus got frustated lol

Aaaaa anon this is adorable, thank you! We love making Sylus suffer in cute and harmless ways. He's always asking for trouble, so let's give him some! 😌💅

Something Sweet

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: Sylus knows how to get what he wants. Getting what you want might be a little more tricky...

Genre: fluff!

Warnings/Additional tags: female!reader, IMPLIED pregnant!reader (pregnancy not actually mentioned or described- just hormones being hormones ✌), established relationship, canon pet names, a lil bit of roleplay because Sylus refuses to leave his Mystic Adventure era

| Word count: 2.1k | Masterlist |

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Sy, d’you know what I’m craving right now?”

“Always, sweetie.” Sylus doesn’t look up from his book. “Not now, though. I’m tired.”

Morning sunlight streams through the gaps in your living room curtains, casting pale yellow shapes over the floor. A shard of it has been inching over the sofa towards Sylus, the sharp edge now grazing the side of his face. He shifts, ever so slightly, away from its touch. His eyes are open but heavy.

“No,” you scold, leaning forwards to swat at him with your book. “That’s not what I meant, you narcissist.”

He chuckles with his usual low timbre— his gaze still not lifting— and the sound is deeper for how close he is to sleep. He wants to give in to it, you can tell. When he turns a page, the movement is languid, soft. You’re losing him.

“Sy,” you say again, then with more of a whine: “Sylus.”

His eyes flutter closed as he draws in a deep breath. His hand raises, his fingers stretching to pull his reading glasses from his face. They’re set down on the arm of the chair beside him, along with the book, and he turns to you with a smile. “What are you craving, sweetie?”

You rest your book on your stomach. Your legs are stretched out over Sylus’s lap, and his hand finds one of your feet, massaging an ache from it as you begin your speech. “Do you remember that café we used to go to? The one we found when it started raining in the park that day? We didn’t think it was open, but then the owner knocked on the window and said we could—”

“Yeah?” His hand moves to your other foot.

“Well, they make these—”

“Macarons.”

“You remember?”

His smile widens like he remembers vividly. “Kitten, how could I forget? I’m still jealous of that sweet little treat. You’ve never made that face for me, and believe me—” he wiggles one of your toes— “I’ve tried.”

That had been one of the only times you’d truly caught him off-guard, back when your feelings for one another were unnamed and uncharted. The rain had been drumming against the café window, and you’d heaved Sylus’s damp coat from your shoulders— giggled at the raised eyebrow and the sarcastic ‘…thanks’ he’d given in turn. One hot drink later, you were lifting a pastel pink macaron to your lips, taking a delicate bite and failing to stifle a tiny, almost euphoric moan.

You remember realising yourself: blushing profusely and expecting some remark, some ridicule, but none ever came. Sylus’s eyes were wide, dark, fixed upon your still parted mouth.

After a few of the longest seconds of your life, he’d dragged the plate with the rest of the macarons away from you and muttered something about how you had better not do that again.

“They’re still the sweetest things I’ve ever tasted,” you tease now, just as you’d wrestled him for that plate back then, set on eating every last macaron.

He makes a hmph as he idly runs a finger over the part of your foot he knows is ticklish. His expression is distinctly grumpy, but it falters as you laugh and try to writhe away from him.

You’re quickly out of breath. “Sylus?”

“Mmm?”

He glances up at you and you smile sweetly, head tilting. “Please?”

His coat on a rainy day. The entire plate of macarons in the end; he’s never been very good at denying you anything. For the first time since you’d stirred him from his book, however, he appears genuinely regretful. “You’re forgetting something, sweetie,” he murmurs gently. “Why did we stop going to that café, hmm?”

You shrug.

“It closed, kitten,” he sighs. “Months ago.”

“What?”

Not only did you already know that— you actually visited the café on its final day. The owner was telling you stories: he was moving somewhere warmer, closer to family, and he needed all the funds he could get. Sylus had snuck an obscene amount of money into the man’s tip jar whilst you acted as a distraction. You both had fond memories of that place; it was nice to make one more.   

It's all coming back to you and you’re struck by a wave of nostalgia. You want to go back there. You can’t go back there. It doesn’t exist anymore, and you’ll never taste sweetness like that again.

Your mouth has gone dry.

“Sweetie?” Sylus prompts, because he notices you’re far away. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” your voice wobbles, “I just really wanted… I mean, I really needed one of those—”

“… Macarons?” he finishes for you.

You burst into tears, and one day, you’ll tally this as another time you took the man by surprise. His face drops instantly— lost, for a moment— before he slides your legs from his lap, allowing him to lean closer. “No, no, no,” he coos, “don’t cry, kitten, please. I didn’t mean to… well, I didn’t realise…”

He doesn’t know what to say, and he always knows what to say. He set you off with a single word and now he’s stuttering like sentences are all possible landmines. He tries his luck again, putting a foot forward: “Listen to me. I’ll go to the store. Would that be alright? Or perhaps there’s another café that could—”

You explode: sobbing even more viscerally. Your whole body shakes with it.

Sylus has frozen. He watches on helplessly as you cry, blabbering about the macarons you can’t have and the café you can’t return to. Across the room, even Mephisto has hunched down on his perch, though he issues a few, spirited squawks, maybe in solidarity with your breakdown, or maybe in protest of it.

It’s like a catalyst. You cry more: burying your face in your hands because what the hell is wrong with you? It’s not a big deal. It’s not a big deal, so why do you feel sick? And then there’s Sylus— your Sylus, devoted and adoring— and here you are, punishing him for something beyond his control.

You look up from your hands, desperate to apologise, but he’s gone. More shards of sunlight paint his empty seat and catch all that’s left of him: a few crow feathers, glistening like onyx. Mephisto is gone too, and the room is quiet, save for you snivelling and feeling sorry for yourself.

“Sylus?” you call out into the empty morning.

It isn’t his fault, not really. You wouldn’t want to be around you, either.

…

Something brushes over your cheek, and your tired eyes open.

The sun has ebbed back behind the curtains and the ceiling light has taken its place, casting artificial highlights over everything in reach: the coffee table, the closed-up flowers at its centre and a mug of tea that’s gone cold. Sylus is in front of you too, backlit and soft like a daydream, and he—

He left you.

“Sy?” you whisper warily, because the context is coming back to you slowly, piece by piece.

“Hey,” he coaxes, voice as honeyed as whatever’s turned the air sweet.

You blink, rubbing sleep from your eyes and relishing the warmth of his hand on your face. Then you slap his shoulder. “Hey, really? That’s all you’ve got— hey?”

He’s kneeling for you— on the floor, beside the couch— so you can meet his eyes. He settles his chin thoughtfully on the edge of the seat, his nose almost touching yours. “What would you prefer, sweetie?” His lips are close to yours too. “Good evening, my beloved? Greetings, my queen?”

“How about sorry?” you snap, because he isn’t cute and he isn’t charming.

He pouts. “Why sorry?”

“Because you left, Sylus!” You sit up straighter, and your phone tumbles out of your lap. Its screen is still lit-up from a few hours ago, showcasing a very one-sided conversation and a rant you never actually sent, because it’s still in the text box.

You vaguely recall writing it, so you try to snatch the phone from Sylus’s hand as he plucks it from the floor. He’s more alert than you. More co-ordinated. He keeps it out of your grasp as he reads the unsent message, an eyebrow raising.

It was a lot of things— colourful, creative— not entirely tasteful. “My, my, your highness,” he tuts, “so this is the treatment your valiant knight receives for undertaking your quest?”

“You’re not valiant,” you rebuke, and you manage to wrestle your phone from him. “You’re—”

“A heartless prick,” he finishes casually, quoting your message with a chuckle. He takes your free hand and kisses the back of it, refusing to let you pull away. “And whose fault is that, I wonder?”

“You can have your heart back.”

“Nope. You’re stuck with it, sweetie. With me, too. Now—” he sits back on his knees— “would you please ask me about my quest?”

The analogy is lost on you. You sit fully up, looking down at him. “What quest, oh valiant knight?”

His lips form a smirk; he just loves when you play along. “Close your eyes.”

You do— whether you’re queen or not. You hear him shifting aside, and then there’s a snap of his fingers. The air changes, warping like thick, liquid smoke, and you know he’s using his Evol. “Open,” he commands.

And there on the coffee table, freshly teleported, is a plate of macarons the colour of cherry blossoms. As if anticipating the comparison, Sylus pulls a handful of pink petals from his pocket and blows them up into the air so they can spiral down on the scene. He watches them. Then you. “Ta-da,” he proclaims, his tone dry but full of humour.

You’re prone to hyperbole nowadays, but this is without a doubt the best thing you have ever seen.

“Sylus,” you gasp in disbelief, “how did you—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says; the story isn’t for today, and he’s very, very tired. A few weeks from now he’ll tell you about how he tracked down the contact information of the owner of the old café. How he spent an hour on the phone bargaining for a certain macaron recipe, and several more hours in the kitchen, trying to get them perfect. “Now, they might not be exactly the same, sweetie. But I did try to—”

You surge forwards, capturing his lips in a kiss. It’s so impulsive— so reckless— that you almost tumble down from the couch, but he catches you, steadies you, and your hand is gripping the soft of his hair as he kisses you back. Slowly, his mouth not leaving yours, he lifts you back into your seat.

“Easy, sweetie.” His voice is low as he pulls away, and though he turns his face from you, you can make out the blush on his cheeks. He settles back into his kneeling position on the floor. “I have one more surprise for you. Do try to control yourself.”

He retrieves a small, complete flower from his pocket, albeit one a little dreary from its journey. Sylus smiles triumphantly as he holds it out to you, and he was right; you do want to throw yourself at him. Instead, you take the flower and lean forwards, tucking it behind his ear before he can protest. He’d tilted closer to help you, and he sits back with an exasperated tsk when you’re done.

“It suits you,” you grin.

He yawns. “Everything does.”

You don’t want to get into trouble, so you shimmy to the very edge of your seat and carefully— showing tremendous restraint— reach out to take his face in your hands. “You’re amazing, Sy. Thank you for doing all of this for me, but…”

“But…?”

“I missed you. I like macarons, yeah,” you smile, “but I’d much rather have you.”

This time, he can’t hide his face and the way it goes pink, like the blossom behind his ear. His cheeks are warm beneath your palms. “You couldn’t have said that before I spent the whole day—”

His voice is strangled as you keel towards him— slow and deliberate— to thread your arms around him and pull him into a hug. He tenses for a moment, then wraps his arms around you too: holding you tightly, keeping you from falling any further. You can feel his hand stroking your back and he hums as you give him a gentle squeeze.

“Such a lovely moment, kitten,” he muses, your head on his shoulder. “I do hope it’s sincere, and not— say— an excuse for someone to get her paws on the macarons behind me.”

There’s another moment of quiet.

“Don’t be silly, Sy,” you retort, but your mouth is full, your cheeks are stuffed, and not a single word of it is intelligible.

[augustinewrites]

does gojo ever freak out or worry ab reader when she’s alone on missions? obviously she can handle herself & knows what she’s doing, but he gives the vibes that he’d be internally panicking 😭

“hey, welcome back!” gojo grins, quickly shoving a half melted spatula to the bottom of the trash can. 

“hi,” you murmur, tipping the bill of your cap down as you close the door behind you. odd. he doesn’t think he’s seen you wear a hat before. 

“how was it?” he asks, flicking off the stove and closing in to welcome you properly with a kiss. well, he attempts to. you immediately take a step back, avoiding his embrace. he definitely doesn’t remember a time you’ve ever done that.

“i’m all sweaty,” you tell him, toeing your boots off and heading straight toward the bedroom. you say hello to the kids before shutting the door, the lock clicking into place. 

“are you mad at me?” he asks as soon as he warps into the room.

“satoru!” you startle, staggering back into the door. “get out!”

“nope,” he hums, closing in on you. “we sleep in the same room and you know that i don’t respect boundaries.” 

with that, he reaches over and pulls the baseball cap off your head. 

“satoru, please don’t freak out—”

he freaks out. 

he grabs your chin so you can’t turn away, inspecting the sutures lining your temple. “this is deep! are you okay? why were you hiding it from me?”

you swat his hand away, frowning. “i’m fine, and i wasn’t hiding it. i just didn’t want the kids to see. speaking of, did you guys eat dinner yet?”

“what grade curse was it?”

“special. i thought i smelled something burning—”

“you’re only grade one. why would they—”

“only grade one?” you repeat with a scoff. “don’t say it like that. you know the only reason i’m not special grade is because the zenin’s—”

“because the zenin’s are holding you back until you join them. they’re dicks, babe. that’s old news,” he finishes, tapping his foot impatiently. 

“listen,” you tell him, pinching the bridge of your nose. “i just didn’t get out of the way fast enough. it’s just a cut. i’ve had worse.” 

“well, next time they call you up for assignment, i’m coming with you,” he decides. “we’ll get a sitter for the kids and make it like a date night.”

“whoa,” you interrupt. “you’re inviting yourself on my assignments now? “do you think i’m not good enough?”

“well when you come home hurt, yeah!” 

he regrets it as soon as he says it. 

and he hates the way you’re looking at him. you’re hurt, and it shows. “wow. thanks for the vote of confidence.” 

“hey…”

he says your name, reaching for your hand, but you pull away, shaking your head.

_____

freshly showered and changed, you pull your robe on, exiting the bathroom. gojo’s sitting on the bed, waiting with his head in his hands.

“you know i think you’re more than capable,” he says quietly. “i wasn’t making a dig at your skill. you’re incredible.” 

“i know,” you hum, dumping your uniform into the basket. 

he looks up at you, apologetic. “but if anything happened to you, and you were really hurt…it would be my fault.”

“that’s not true,” you say quickly, sitting beside him. 

“it is,” he insists. “and i could never forgive myself, because i’m supposed to be the strongest.” 

(and what’s the point of being the strongest if he couldn’t protect the people he loved most?)

“satoru,” you murmur, smoothing a hand across his back. “you have such a big heart. i’m dating you because of your heart— well, mostly your abs but also your heart. ou already take on so much for everyone. and i need you to trust that i can’t take care of myself. i don’t want to be another burden to you.”

wordlessly, he takes your hand and presses it to his chest, so you can feel his heartbeat. 

“you are my whole heart. if i lost you and i could have stopped it, like i could’ve stopped—” he purses his lips, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “i just can’t lose you.” 

“and you won’t,” you promise, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “now let’s go have dinner.”

“ah. about that….”

_____

“alright, dinner’s served!”

you the kids exchange a look.

megumi leans close to you, whispering, “can we get sick from this?”

“go on,” satoru encourages, picking up his own sandwich. “it’s a spam sandwich! i used to eat these all the time before i met—”

“you’re really lucky you met her,” the twelve year old grumbles, peeling the bread back to look at the burnt piece of spam.

tsumiki, ever the people pleaser, takes a bite and chews very thoroughly before swallowing with great effort.

“um…the smoke added a nice hickory flavour to the spam.”

“okay, we’re getting pizza,” you decide, shooting your boyfriend an apologetic look.

[dabisbratz]

𝒫𝒪𝑅𝒞𝐸𝐿𝒜𝐼𝒩 ; eren jeager x male reader

w.c: 2.3k

𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝒜𝐼𝒩𝒮: miscommunications, eren’s short temper, dumbification, asphyxiation two (2) uses of the f-slur (nonsexual), dirty-talk, exhibitionism + vouyerism, public masterbation, orgasm denial, spittin, one (1) use of the word ‘boypussy’, mean rennie

sonny says . . . rare short sonny post in da wild!?!? was missin nerd rennie n his jock boyfie ૮꒰ ྀི๑⃙⃘´༥`๑⃙⃘ ྀི ꒱ა thinkin about how long it takes for you t’realize y’like -like him . . .

Eren is. . . Weird.

That’s not an unknown fact, nor is it an uncommon conclusion. If anything, it’s a given. He smells strange, but not unpleasant, his voice goes nasally when he’s not making an effort to smoothen it out, his glasses are always smudged with fingerprints and a thin, barely noticeable layer of grease. He snorts when he laughs, too, in some sort of stereotypical way, and it’s almost endearing, but. . . That’s not why he’s weird.

It’s not his physical traits, no. Not the two moles decorating his neck, or the constant pink flush to his cheeks. Not his warm, brown hair that frames his soft cheeks. It’s not the acne at his forehead— you can tell he’s spent countless nights scrubbing away at it, picking apart his appearance— or the pudge to his body. Found on his cheeks, his arms, his stomach, his thighs— no, it absolutely isn’t anything physical.

Even as you look at him, your eyes trained on the movement of his pen as he writes something down— you’re not even sure what subject you’re supposed to be working on, anymore— you can’t place it. Ink travels along the sheet of paper, bleeding into it as his letters loop and his vowels curl. His lips are chapped, dusted a pretty shade of pink as his tongue swipes over the surface of his pillowy lips, they part as if to speak, and—

“What?” He asks, his voice only ever sounding soft now, for the first time since you’ve met him. He peers at you over the rim of his large, round glasses, his hazel eyes brightening beneath the fluorescent study-hall lights. Eren squints, like the opacity pains him, but his gaze never falters in kindliness. He’s. . . pretty.

Its certainly not the first time you’ve had that thought— he’s fucked you sideways, backwards, and maybe even upside down, so the thought crossed your mind amongst countless other opportunities, but this is different. It’s mundane. It’s. . . casual. Natural, like something fundamentally correct.

In a way that makes your heart want to wring itself dry.

Eren breathes through parted lips, a habit he’s working on, thick eyebrows furrowed as his gaze trickles toward your empty notebook. “What?” He repeats, this time much more nasally. The growing irritability in his voice proves palpable— but it’s not Eren if he’s not easily riled up. Still, his voice is like molasses, you want to cuddle up beneath it and taste it on your tongue. The sweetness, the bitterness. To feel it spread across your tastebuds, thick and syrupy. He’s just so.. handsome.

“What?” You clear your throat, it’s suddenly scratchy, all the words you want to say stuck in your esophagus as you cough into your elbow. They’re not thoughts you’re used to having— you’ve only ever had girlfriends.. You’re used to floral patterns and sweet scents. . . the stereotypical bubblegum pink and hair ties. The hands you’ve held have almost always been smaller than your own, softer, dantier…

“You’re.. You know, staring at me?” Polar opposite of the former, Eren’s hand swats the air as if gesturing to the general area. You instinctively want to roll your eyes, bratty in nature, just to earn the soft click of Eren’s tongue. Fuck.

“How did you know you were… you know.” Rushed, slipping over your own tongue, your teeth feel like jelly, softening in your own mouth. You suddenly feel small, backed up against a corner and trembling like a deer. Bambi’s got nothing on you, incomparable, you think, a cold tremor cascading past your ribs and down your spine. You’re not supposed to be the one feeling this way.

“You know?” He echoes. Pink, plush lips parting and curling around every letter, your heart flutters with warmth as they curl into scowl. You hate to admit it, but it’s your favorite expression from Eren. He’s always looked a bit boyish— like he carries some sort of sheepishness in him, even with his beginnings of facial hair, but there’s something more established about him when his eyes steel over and his lips press together. “What, gay?”

Lilliputian is the minute that goes by, and yet, it lasts forever. “Yeah,” A long beat of silence as your shoulders tense up to your ears, each flutter of your eyelash against your cheek, each intake of air through your nose.. “That.” Excruciatingly slow, almost.

He notes the way you say it. You know it, you can see the cogs of recognition twisting and turning in his head, you loathe it. You want to hold onto the softness of his face, rub patterns into his cheek and pull him forward, whimpering a soft, saccharine ‘Rennie’ in his ear and watch him crumble. Your fingers twitch, fumbling over themselves at the thought, and before you can lift your hand (just to snatch it away), Eren’s lips part once more.

“You mean a faggot,” He sneers, his pen completely discarded, rolling past the flat surface of the wooden table. Radiating from his skin is the warmth of new tension, he vibrates in his seat as if ready to lash out. . . Not at you, never at you. “That’s what you want to say, right?”

“Eren,” Mumbling, barely making it past your lips, you murmur through your teeth. You distract yourself with your hands, two fingers holding onto one as they twiddle and turn around themselves. Eren’s gaze trails downward, a long, prominent scowl on his lips as he leans back into his seat, thighs spread wide over the stretch of the desk chair. His head tilts back, chocolate brown hair brushing against his jaw as he stares at you through the bridge of his nose. His frame isn’t big, and yet, he looks so.. powerful.

“I didn’t— don’t mean it like that.”

“What the fuck else could you mean, then?” He growls, a mean lilt in his voice that nearly has you shrinking back. A warning, not a threat, as the chair creaks beneath his weight, his hands clasping together as he shifts to lean forward instead. Looking you dead on, even as you avert your gaze. A click of his tongue, you listen to his skin brush against his palms as he raises a hand to snap his fingers. Once, twice, thrice.. And suddenly your attention is back on him. “Only fags take it up the ass like you do, anyway.”

“Eren,” You breathe, a soft melody of a voice, eyebrows pinched as you silently plead. Not even entirely sure what you’re pleading for, it’s just that his tone of voice makes you want to repent. Warmth prickles in your skin, and some sick, divine intervention tunes in to remind you that you’ve never felt more empty without Eren inside you. “Come on, man. I didn’t mean it like that, I just..”

His pretty face twists as though he’d eaten something sour. ‘Man’ — you call him, not something more savory. Baby, sweetheart, sugar, sir, Rennie. . . The options are there, and he’s watching you wade through them. You know Eren likes you. He knows you do, in some unexplainable way— he just needs to hear it.

“Is that what I am to you, too?” He grunts, stubborn. He knows the answer, eyes softening as he watches a frown tug at the corners of your kissable lips.

“Rennie,” You coo, as if you’ve read his mind, and he’s never seen your face so… conflicted. “M’sorry.” It cracks his hardened exterior, anger and tension dissipating into the air as he lets out a groan of a breath.

You’ve never seen Eren angry. Maybe in a different context, toward something else, with the exception of the time he’d discovered football meant you were flexible and he hadn’t put it to use yet. But. . . only sexually charged. You’d imagine it starts slow, a slight simmer building in his veins, gathering in his fingers as he clenches his hands into fists. Then fast, and sudden, crystalline rolling down his cheeks in a thick flow of rivers before your very eyes. He probably cries when he’s genuinely angry, you conclude, watching his chest heave and tense as he steadies his raging breaths.

A new sense of shame raises the hairs on your neck— should you comfort him, or give him privacy? It's all so much, you’re left stunned as he stands, his chair scraping against the hardwood floor as he all but stomps over to grab your chin. Your hand instinctively reaches to cup his own, instead, being met with a firm, but painless, tap to your cheek that makes you straighten up, hands falling back to your lap.

“You’re so. . .” Voice rough and thick, Eren’s gaze follows the shape of your lips as he trails off. Past your cupid's bow, is the curve, following where they meet in a shaky line. You’re pulled into a kiss, his pink lips chapped and bitten, you taste a thin layer of blood and iron on his tongue. His hand moves from your chin to your throat, fingers tracing the skin until his palm presses below your adam’s apple, leaving you gasping as he steals every breath from your parted lips. “. . Dumb boys like you never know what they’re fuckin’ talking about half the time anyway.”

The dig doesn’t hurt, your brain barely catches it, with the lack of oxygen and the pout on your lips, all you can chase after is the urge to kiss him again. Again, again, again. You hear him suck his teeth, but it’s hazy when he speaks once more. “Oh, you liked that?”

“Rennie, I wan’ it—“ Leaves your lips, high and whiney, forlorn to even your own ears, a dull throb between your thighs. It’s so good, you didn’t get hard as quick before meeting Eren, but with his hand wrapped around your throat, you can already feel the ache in your balls, the twitch of your shaft, the milky, sticky precum spilling into your boxers. The brunette scoffs, and that only makes it worse.

“Yeah?” He murmurs, mostly to himself, an almost incredulous lilt to his voice as he straightens up, palming at the clear bulge imprinted in his stained sweatpants. “Since you want it so bad, touch it.”

With a breathy moan, your hands reach to grasp at the thick outline of Eren’s cock straining against his pants, pressing your palm against the warmth of his shaft. You feel it twitch and throb beneath your fingers, jumping in your hand as Eren sucks in a sharp breath. You missed this. He huffs above you, face flushed and glasses askew, but his gaze doesn’t leave your face once— glued to the way your lips part, how you mouth against the cotton of his sweats and leave behind a sloppy stain of drool. How you kiss the head, burying your face deeper and deeper into the fabric, breathing in the musk of his cock.

“M’sorry,” You breathe, handsome face squished against his thigh, and Eren can’t seem to stop himself from grabbing a fistful of your hair, pulling you off his cock with a resigned grunt.

“I knew I was gay,” Eren rasps, his other hand pulling at the elastic band of his sweatpants, diving past his boxers (with suspicious stains, might you add), and straight to gripping his cock, dribbling salty, sticky precum along his knuckles. “When I’d come home from school,” He sighs, eyes fluttering shut with a shaky gasp. “And watch porn, but—” You barely miss it, stuck in his hold as he keeps you still, the weight of his cock slapping against your cheek— and god, that’s all you’ve ever wanted. “I only focused on the men. Especially when they sounded like girls, whining and crying…”

It’s hard to listen to him ramble, when what you want is right in front of you. Your hips rock, pressing your needy cock just barely against the denim of your jeans— it’s not enough, you need more, you want to feel it, you want to take it— “Kinda like you,” He grunts out, nearly crumbling above you, your pretty lips ghosting over his cock as his fist grips the dip of his balls. Blinking up at him, your eyes remain glued to the veins littering his hand as he fucks his fist, nearly losing your composure. “How they gasp after bottoming out,” Lifting your hips up, brushing your clenched fists against your thighs, your eyes flutter shut as he moans, maneuvering your face into different angles— however he pleases. “When they accidentally shoot a load on their own face. Ha, kinda like you.”

You hiccup on your own desperate, breathy sobs, choking on your gasps— in and out, in and out, Eren’s cock squelches as he fucks his fist, gathering pre and smearing it against your cheek.

“And they always take it so good. Pretty, slutty little holes made for taking dick,” He strokes loud plaps of wetness out of the head, finally, finally, pressing it against the plush of your lips. Glazed over and sticky, a thin, sheen layer of pre paints your lips like the prettiest gloss, and your lips part, carrying a thin trail of saliva between them. “They look so stupid, too. Best part was—” Mumbling under his breath, the brunette gathers spit on his tongue. He's salty and bitter, spreading along your mouth, and you can't help but drool. His thighs tense, muscles flexing and rippling as his twitching hand finds the back of your head, and— oh. “I’d make sure they looked like you.”

He’s spitting in your mouth. “You should’ve known when I had your ankles above your head and fucked a load into that boypussy of yours.”

You’re close, you can feel it, a tingling warmth in your spine and your balls, your abdomen tightening and hands reaching down to rub it out, but— Eren swats your hand away, a scowl on his lips.

Repent, repent, repent.

[delusionaldaydreamz]

”come on, mamas.” | c.s.

   W/C- 715 | x reader/ y/n

in which Chris has to find a way to get his girlfriends attention

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••     “Hold on, hun.” I chuckled as my boyfriend continually tried to get my attention while I was deep in conversation with Matt and Nick. We were talking about personal projects and the brand Nick was launching soon, then something Matt was considering for himself to start working on. We were standing in the backyard at Tara’s house warming party, which was basically just a typical house party, so there was plenty of familiar people for Chris to go talk to. Even if there wasn’t, he’s not super reserved. He could’ve easily started making friends. 

        “Do you think like individuals too eventually? Laura doesn’t think it’s the best idea but lowkey I feel like it might be more accessible for the fans.” Nick continued. “Hands down, especially since they’re all younger.” Matt and I had both agreed with him. “I think that’s kind of mainly what I want to do with it but Laura-“ “y/n!” Chris groaned cutting Nick off. Nick shot him a glare as I rolled my eyes at him. “Baby please,” I chuckled. “Why don’t you join the conversation if you’re so bored?” 

      “Nicks already told us all this shit. It’s like all he thinks about right now.” “Sorry my brand doesn’t involve the same exact fucking design over and over again just lazily slapped onto a new color scheme every launch.” Nick said sarcastically. “Yeah yeah, whatever you’re better than me.” Chris brushed off his brothers words. “Can we do something?” He turned to face me. “Yeah in a minute, chris.” I chuckled. 

       After about ten more minutes of Nick Matt and I talking, Chris finally had enough. In a pretty brisk motion, he looped a single finger through one of my belt loops, tugging at it to get my attention, “come on mamas.” He said softly, removing his fingers from my jeans and grabbing my wrist instead, knowing he’d caught my full attention. He basically soaked me right then and there. 

      Nick stood absolutely flabbergasted as Chris began to pull me through the party, “come on mamas!” He mocked in a deepened voice acting manly, at the same time Matt shot out a “that’s insane Chris.” With a shake of his head. “Yeah but it got her attention!”  Chris called before we disappeared back into the house.  As he pushed through people, Tara caught sight of us. “Ooh, get it Chris!” She called over the loud music, making Chris shake his head with a sigh and an eye roll. Triple threat. “Second door to the right!” she called with a wink, ignoring his gesture as we made our way upstairs. The second the door shut behind us I spoke up. 

     “Mamas? Tugging at my fucking jeans?” I looked at him as he locked the door. “Ignoring me? To talk to my fucking brothers?” He matched my tone. “Chris what the fuck.” I folded my arms at him. “Don’t do shit like that in front of people, I’m literally wet.” I said sternly, causing him to smirk. ��I had to do something to get your attention.” His voice lowered as he made his way over to me, his arm snaking around my waist. “No, not here.” I shook my head at him, gently pushing him away which made him chuckle.

        “Come on, mamas.” He teased, wrapping his arms around me again. “Ew, you like it don’t you.” He laughed seeing my reaction. He grabbed my chin so he could playfully shake my head a little, giving me a gentle kiss. “Shut up Chris, go away.” I swatted him away again making him laugh once more. “Not until you admit you like it.” He smirked, trailing kisses down my neck and collar. “Fine, it’s hot. Can we go back down now?” I chuckled, trying my best not to get turned on. Chris was not letting that happen though. 

     “Yeah?” He hummed in a low tone between his kisses. “You want me to start calling you mamas?” He asked before he started gently sucking on my neck. “Chris…” I trailed. “Fine,” he abruptly pulled away from my neck. “But you’re done for once we get back to my house, you hear me?” He joked making me laugh as I snaked my arms up around his neck. “Deal.” I gave him a quick, sweet kiss.  ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• A/N—> sorry to throw in Tara, I didn’t know who else’s party to put lol;;; not really proof read either, sorry lol

[strang3lov3]

Lather

(Inspired by our curly, long-haired Pedro with his broken wing) When Joel injures his shoulder, he needs your help washing his hair and getting off 🧴🧻💦🧼🚿🛀(4k)

Part one of a new mini series!!

Tags- shoulder injury, forced proximity, hair washing, handjobs, blowjobs, Joel finishes little too early, sexual tension, masturbation, pissed off joel, impish reader as per ushe. Joel starts out soft and gentle, this will not last long. Just you wait for part two, mwahahahahah!!

A/N- This new series is written for and inspired by my very dear friend @noxturnalpascal , please do not eat Pedro’s fucking hair. I’m begging you. And thank you @tightjeansjavi for the title name!!

Generously edited by my dear friend, the lovely @papipascalispunk

You’re at the dinner table, watching Joel awkwardly cut his chicken and potatoes with the side of his fork, held by his left hand. He brings the food to his mouth kind of slowly, deliberately, like he has to consciously think about where his fork will end up. He catches your watchful gaze and looks at you, “What?”, he scowls.

You shrug, “Nothing.”

“Quit lookin’ at me,” he huffs, “Creep.”

You’ve been living in Jackson with Joel and Ellie for quite some time now. Ellie’s got the garage and the downstairs bathroom to herself, you and Joel live in separate bedrooms upstairs. It works out. Kind of. The stairs are an issue. They’re old and steep, kind of slippery. It was only a matter of time before someone slipped and fell, and last week, that’s exactly what Joel did. Early one morning, he had misstepped and totally ate shit, landing hard on his right shoulder. You rushed to help him, but Joel shrugged you off, insisting he was fine. But you could hear in his voice he wasn’t, how he strained to speak. And in the following days, you noticed how his routine changed in the aftermath of his injury. He’s been favoring his right arm heavily, eating, cooking, opening doors, picking things up all with his left hand, rarely his right. 

Ellie gets up from the table to rinse her plate. When she passes you and Joel on her way back to the garage, she stops next to Joel and just stares at him, a look of confusion and disgust on her face. She reaches her hand forward, pushing her fingers slowly through his hair and watching the curls stand up straight. Joel freezes before turning to look at her, perplexed and irritated. “What’s the matter with you?”, he asks. 

“Gross,” Ellie giggles, still playing with his hair. He swats her hand away. 

“Yeah, shut up,” Joel grumbles, “You’ll have gray hair one day too. It ain’t that funny.”

“I’m not talking about the color. Your hair is disgusting, Joel. It’s like, sticking straight up. Are you hydrophobic or something?”

“Leave me alone,” Joel tells her, “Go do something. Go play in traffic.”

“You smell like you’re hydrophobic,” Ellie retorts as she continues towards her room. 

You turn your attention back to Joel, who looks insulted. Subtly, he turns his nose to his armpit to smell himself and then checks his reflection in the window, using his left hand to mess with his curls. He notices you staring at his reflection as well, “Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?”, he asks defensively as he messes with his hair a little more, flipping the mess to one side of his head, then to the other, rubbing the strands between his fingers. Joel sighs deeply then, gets up from his seat, and – using his left arm – he drags his chair across the kitchen and sets it in front of the kitchen sink. “I need help,” he confesses in a tone hardly audible, like he’s sheepish and uncomfortable. Disappointed, too. 

“What?”

“Washin’ my hair,” he speaks louder this time, “It’s hard with my uh…shoulder. I need your help.” 

“Took you long enough to as–”

“Knock it off,” he interrupts. It was probably around day four post-staircase incident that you noticed Joel’s hair taking on a more dirty appearance. You stare at his hair a lot lately now that he’s growing it out for winter. His hair curls in all sorts of directions, little cowlicks all over his head. The ringlets at the bottom of his neck are your favorite part. How gorgeous they look with the multitude of colors on his head. Deep, chocolatey brown with highlights of caramel and silvery gray streaks. With resources being fairly scarce even in Jackson, Joel doesn’t wash his hair every day, which is honestly fine for him. However, the days that he does wash his hair, he struggles to scrub his scalp properly with just his left hand, hence the dirty and greasy appearance. And really, it doesn’t look that bad. Probably feels worse for him, though, all that schmutz built up. Probably itchy and uncomfortable. 

You take your plate to the kitchen sink and give it a quick wash before drying it and putting it away. Joel sits in the chair he’s placed in front of the sink, and reaches behind himself for the dish soap, then kind of just puts it in your hand. You look at Joel, tilting your head in confusion. Sure, it's slim pickings for resources, but there’s a reason you’re close with the soapmaker here in Jackson. It’s the little things that keep you going; one of the little things being fruity scented shampoo that the soapmaker hooks you up with. 

You place the soap back on the kitchen counter and leave quickly to grab your shampoo, then come back to meet Joel at the sink. Joel looks at the bottle of shampoo in your hand, “What the hell is that?”, he asks. 

“My shampoo. It smells kinda like strawberries, see?”, you open the cap and squeeze the bottle to waft the scent towards him.

 Joel scrunches his nose, “It’s too girly.”

“You’re too girly,” you taunt, and Joel rolls his eyes. “Beggars can’t be choosers. I’m washing your hair, so I get to pick the shampoo. It’s like a spa night,” you chirp happily. 

“Nope, not a spa night,” he replies harshly, “Just wash my damn hair. No funny business.” When you stare down at him, unimpressed with his attitude, Joel backtracks, “Please,” he begs. 

“Spa night.”

“Fine,” Joel sighs in defeat and leans his head back into the sink, scooting down the chair. He looks deeply uncomfortable already, putting his weight on the left side of his body and raising his shoulder up and away from resting on the sink. Poor guy. You turn on the sink and begin to run the water over his scalp with the detachable faucet, but Joel yelps in pain. “Hot, s’ way too hot,” he says loudly, craning his neck away from the stream. 

“Sorry,” you apologize, quickly turning the faucet lever in the other direction. 

“Cold, cold, Christ—cold,” Joel hisses as he reaches behind himself to try to haphazardly adjust the lever himself, swatting his hand violently. He ends up hitting your hand instead, resulting in you dropping the faucet on his forehead. He yelps again and quickly sits up straight, water flinging across the room from his wet hair. “This isn’t gonna work,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Think we need to get this over with in the shower.”

“I think that’d work better,” you agree. 

So, you and Joel make your way upstairs, you’ve got your fruity shampoo in your hand. Joel’s wet hair drips down his neck and back as you follow him towards the bathroom where he turns on the shower, letting the water warm up. He shuts and locks the bathroom door before unbuttoning his flannel, again with his left hand only. Turning away from you, you watch Joel twitch and wince in pain as he tries to take off his undershirt. It kind of makes you sad, seeing him struggle like this. You wish he would have asked for help before now. “Joel?”, you tap his back. 

“Hm?”, Joel turns around and you reach his right arm. “Oh,” he says. Carefully, you do your best to painlessly help him out of his shirt, pulling his sleeve towards your body and keeping his arm as low as can be. You pull the rest of the shirt off of his body, catching a glimpse of his torso, his soft, pillowy belly. “Thanks,” he mumbles. 

“No problem.”

“I uh–,” Joel begins, turning away from you again and undoing his belt, “I’m gettin’ undressed and gettin’ in, okay?”

“Am I getting in there with you?”

“I’d reckon that’s probably easiest, yeah. And if ya don't wanna get your clothes wet, then you can take 'em off too,” Joel offers, “I don't wanna make you uncomfortable, so I'm keepin’ my eyes shut and facin’ the shower head the whole time so I don’t see anything I'm not ‘sposed to.”

“I appreciate that,” you reply. You’ve been through a lot with Joel, and truth be told, you’re both past the point of modesty, all that you’ve been through together. You have endless trust and respect for each other. Still though, you appreciate what he’s doing to keep you feeling safe and comfortable with him. A lot can be said about Joel, but he’s never been anything but respectful and considerate towards your safety and comfort. It doesn’t go unnoticed. “I’ll undress. Just give me a minute.”

“Not a problem,” Joel says. You face away from him as he takes off his belt, it lands with a clatter on the floor. Next his jeans and boxers, then each of his socks. You hear the sound of the shower curtain moving and his heavy footsteps in the bathtub. “M’done. Eyes stayin’ closed now.”

“Okay,” you say as you look at Joel through the shower curtain, unable to see much. You have no doubt he is, in fact, squeezing his eyes shut, but you smile to yourself when you notice where his arms lie. They’re resting across his body, his hands cupping his member securely. Oh, Joel. He’s a grump, but a gentleman nonetheless. 

After taking off your own clothes and leaving them in a pile on the floor, you move the shower curtain aside and step inside of the tub. It’s a tight fit, despite being relatively spacious. There’s a built-in bench to the side of the shower where your soaps sit. Joel always complains you have too many lotions and potions taking up space, that they always fall on his toes when he bathes. Dramatic. 

 Immediately you’re in awe of Joel’s beauty. You can’t see his face, but you can see his back, freckled and scarred and striped with stretch marks here and there. Water trails down his neck and his spine. You can’t help but steal a peek of his ass, so firm and plump. He’s blessed, truly. 

“Doin’ okay?”, Joel interrupts your thoughts. 

“Oh– yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Gonna shampoo you now.”

“Get to it,” he tells you. 

You reach for your strawberry shampoo and squeeze a small amount into the palm of your hand, then reach up to lather it into Joel’s scalp. “I need you–”, using your hands to guide Joel to tilt his head back, “Yeah, like that. Thanks.”

“Mm,” he hums in response.  

You begin to wash Joel’s hair, building up a thick lather of bubbles. You pay special attention to the sides of his head, down towards his neck, scratching and massaging his scalp. It’s almost imperceptible, but you hear a slight groan, a soft exhale of relief as you scrub Joel’s head. Washing the hair near his neck, you toy with his curls, wrapping them around your fingers and watching them bounce and swing when you pull your hands away. You’re about to reach for more shampoo when you really see it– the bruise on his shoulder. It’s yellowing now, but there are still purple and blue splotches of his skin. “Fuck, Joel,” you mumble, tracing your fingers lightly over his bruise.

“Yeah, yeah.”

It was an accident. You know this, so you’ll spare Joel from your long-winded lecturing about taking care of himself. Instead, you just press a soft kiss to his bruise. 

“You– I um–”, Joel clears his throat, a little bashful now, “Need you to wash up by my hairline, f’ya wanna come up front here.”

“Yeah, of course,” you speak softly. You begin to scoot past Joel, but the tight fit of the two of you in the shower makes it difficult to move. You slip and reach for Joel’s arm. 

“Careful,” he warns you softly, “Here, I gotcha.” Joel, still keeping his eyes shut, holds your waist and helps guide you to stand in front of him. When you’re situated, he quickly protects his modesty once again.

You grab some more shampoo and reach for the front of his scalp. This time, you can admire more of him. His face, eyes scrunched tightly shut. Careful not to look at what he’s not supposed to. That little line between his eyebrows is more deep and prominent than usual. Water drips down the slope of his aquiline nose and his plump, rosy lips. Droplets cling to his wiry salt and pepper facial hair. He’s a work of fucking art. When Joel’s properly shampooed, you reach for the detachable shower head and start to rinse his hair, watching the strands fall on his forehead. 

You’re not sure exactly what happens, but in an instant, Joel is unexpectedly groaning and reaching for the shower head from your hand. You step back and watch him scramble to wipe his eyes and blink quickly. “Fuckin’, ahh,” he hisses, “Got soap in my eyes. Jesus.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“S’okay, was an accident. Fuck,” Joel hands you the shower head and then wipes his eyes a few more times before he stops and stares at you before him, not even thinking about his rule. Fuck. He shuts his eyes quickly, but the damage is done. His mind is swimming with images of your body, the drops of water rolling down the curves of your breasts, your hips, thighs. His cock hardens almost instantly, and he hurries to cover himself again. “Fuck. I’m sorry. It’s not cause of you.”

“Okay, Joel,” you reply calmly. 

Joel groans. “No, it’s not like that, you– you’re– it’s…My shoulder’s been hurtin’, y’know how it’s been.” 

 “Mhm,” you hum, knowing where he’s going with this, “It’s okay.”

“Haven’t been able to take care of myself, uh…in that regard,” Joel clears his throat before continuing, “So I’m just a little wound up– oh–”

Joel’s interrupted when you step forward, reaching for his wrists to pull them away from his member. “I get it,” you whisper, “I can help with that too, if you’d like.”

“Jesus, fuck–”, Joel hisses as you touch his hips, his thighs, skating your fingers along his skin. He moans softly when your fingers lightly touch his heavy balls, the base of his cock, then trailing them up his shaft. “Quit– fuck – quit teasing me, hon. Not a smart idea.”

“I’m not teasing you, Joel.” 

Except Joel’s not listening. All he can think about is how fucking good it feels to be touched where he needs it most. He reaches for your hand, but doesn’t pull it away. Like he’s at battle with himself, doing what he thinks he’s supposed to do, not that he actually wants to. He wraps his fingers around yours, encouraging you to grip his cock tightly. But with his brow furrowed, he looks conflicted. “Don’t know what’s gotten into ya, but–”, he says shakily, “Hon– you gotta stop cause, fuck–”, he breathes, “Don’t think I have it in me– fuck – to walk away from you.”

“You don’t have to, Joel,” you coo quietly as you grip his cock tighter. You lean closer to Joel, wrapping one of your arms around his waist. Joel opens his eyes then, and you kiss his cheek, still stroking his cock. His thick head is nudging your hip as you work him, “Why don’t you let me help you with this?”

Joel nods, sighing in relief as he gives into you, gives into pleasure.  He’s been hard as a rock all week. Left hand just doesn’t do the trick, but yours, your hand does just fine. “Lord have mercy,” he gasps, “Thank you.” Rubbing your hand up and down his cock, you kiss his neck, then lower, his collarbones and his chest. Lower still, sinking to your knees as you kiss down that soft and pillowy tummy of his, trailing your tongue along that patch of hair that leads to his cock. You take his thick base in one hand and his ass in the other, then press sloppy kisses to his blushed tip, flicking your tongue over his soft skin. “Sweetheart,” he warns softly, “Doin’ too much for me.” 

“I don’t think so,” you tell him innocently before trailing your tongue along a prominent vein of his cock. 

“I disagree,” he mumbles quietly. Oh, Joel. Silly Joel. As if you’d satisfy him with just your hands. But this is as much for you as it is for Joel. You’ve spent a lot of time daydreaming about him, kissing him and fucking him. He’s who you think about at night with your hand between your thighs. So no, taking him in your mouth is not too much. It’s what you both need. 

Joel hums sweetly as you guide him to your mouth, his thick head parting your lips. You toy with him, swirling, flicking your tongue, alternating between taking him deeply and more shallow in your mouth. He’s warm and thick, just like you imagined. His cock feels heavy in your mouth as you take him deeper and deeper, hollowing your cheeks to massage him. You love his smooth skin, how he squirms and his hips stutter when you slide his cock to the back of your throat. As he gains more confidence, he begins to draw in and out of your mouth slowly, an action encouraging to both you and himself. 

“Good god,” Joel groans as you work his shaft, one hand still squeezing his ass cheek, the other now fondling his balls, cupping and squeezing them gently. You hum against him, sending vibrations down his shaft. He reaches down, stroking your cheek with soft and warm eyes as you work him. His hand finds the back of your head, grunting as he inches you forward to take him deeper. 

 “Not lastin’ long the way you–”, he  chokes out, a stuttered string of profanities following as you feel his cock stiffen and twitch under your tongue, spurting hot ropes of his spend down your throat. It’s salty and warm and masculine, taking you by surprise. His orgasm surprises himself, too. You don’t mind, though. In fact, it’s flattering the way he’s come undone for you so quickly, so desperately. Poor Joel, so worked up and bent out of shape all week. Probably part of the reason he’s been so cranky.

He takes heaving breaths above you, his chest rising and falling steadily as he stares down at you in admiration. He’s got the kindest eyes. When you pull off of his cock, he offers his hand to you, helping you back to your feet. He thanks you again, then apologizes for finishing how he did. You assure him that you don’t mind a bit. “M’not gonna leave ya high and dry, you know,” he says, “You just give me a few days to get myself right and I’ll take good care of you. Return the favor and all that good stuff. Hm?”

Sure, Joel, you think, nodding to him. He nods back at you, feeling good and satisfied, already dreaming about getting you off in a few short days. How soft and wet your pussy will be, pulsing around his cock, all for him. He’ll make you come just as hard as he did, if not harder. He can see it now, he’ll have you falling to pieces under his tongue and his fingers. He just needs to fucking heal first. While Joel’s been favoring his right arm quite a bit, he still hasn’t been taking it as easy as he should have been. But he’s got a woman waiting on him now, and healing is his top priority. 

Joel smiles, you smile sweetly back at him as you wrap an arm around his waist for stability and set one of your feet on the ledge of the bathtub. His smile contorts into a confused frown as he watches you take your free hand and snake it between yours and Joel’s bodies, your fingers toying with your center. “Whatcha doin’?”, Joel asks. 

“Oh, you know,” you reply plainly. You sigh softly, tilting your head back as one of your fingers circles your hole. 

“No, no, no, no,” Joel protests, “No, thought you were gonna wait your turn.” 

“My turn’s right now,” you breathe, now dipping a finger into your entrance, curling it and swirling it around. “You’re not the only one with needs.”

“I know you got needs, hon, thought we just agreed I’d be the one to take care of ‘em,” he tries, “Right?”

“It’s alright,” you purr, “I got it.”

It’s almost cartoonish, how Joel’s expression turns from one of satisfaction and bliss to betrayal and astonishment. “I don’t like this,” he mutters, “It’s teasin’ me, you know.”

“Oh, Joel,” you whimper softly, your fingers now rubbing over your clit, “What don’t you like?”

“Uh, that,” he spits, “Don’t like hearin’ you moanin’ my name when I’m not the one touchin’ ya. Don’t like that at all.”

You pout, “Oh, you can touch me,” you offer as you take his left hand into your own, sliding it up your body. He thumbs the plump underside of your breast and glides his fingers over your nipple, feeling it harden beneath his touch. 

“Oh, real nice. You’re playin’ dirty,” he accuses, “You’re nothin’ but trouble. Shoulda known.”

You don’t bother replying as you begin to trace steady circles into your clit, dipping your fingers at your entrance to collect more of your arousal. Your fingers slip and slide through your folds with such ease. 

Joel growls, squeezing your breast harshly one last time before his arm finds your waist and he pulls you flush against his body. With your head still tilted back as you whimper quietly, Joel takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, biting and nipping at your hot, dampened skin. It only fuels you. “Joel,” you cry, “Fuck, oh my god,” as that warm, sticky feeling deep in your gut is beginning to build.

Joel watches you, conflicted. How sweet his name sounds falling from your lips with your broken, honeyed moans, but Jesus, he needs to be the one touching you like that, not you. He should have known it’d turn out this way, that you’d revel in having this one-up on him. Your fucking audacity. I made you come so hard you saw stars, and I’m doing the same thing to myself. And you can’t do a single thing about it. Ha. Ha. 

Joel holds you tighter when your cries begin to get louder as you reach your peak, your knees beginning to buckle. You moan frantically, loudly, and Joel watches you knit your brows together and your mouth drops open as you begin to fall apart. Your fingers massage your clit faster, harder, feeling that tension in your gut snap and splinter as waves of pleasure overtake you, washing over your body. With your eyes shut, you feel it deep in your stomach, down the back of your thighs, riding out your orgasm on your own fingers as Joel holds you close to his body.

When you finally open your eyes, Joel’s glaring at you. He says nothing. Deep down, he knew you’d probably end up taking care of yourself tonight, but in front of him? You’ve got some fucking nerve. 

When your breathing slows, Joel lets you go. He stares at you, unimpressed, mouth slightly agape. You take the opportunity to slide two of your fingers past his lips, letting him taste your sweet arousal on his tongue. His brows furrow and his eyes flutter shut as he groans deeply, hungrily. “Seriously?”

You nod with a smile, then press a quick kiss on his lips before shimmying past him to reach for your towel. You dry off and step out of the tub, and when you look back at Joel, he wears a scowl. 

“You’re the fuckin’ devil.” 

Next

[helaintoloki]

the other Hargreeves siblings being absolutely teary-eyed on the day of y/n and Five’s wedding. they like to think of her as an adopted member of the family, because she’s gone through so much with them, gotten so close to death in multiple occasions while trying to save them. after everything, they never thought to see her live out the happy life she deserve, much less getting married to Five.

a/n: i am a sucker for found family tropes and wedding pieces so this was fun for me to write

warnings: none i think ? mostly fluff

Your stomach feels as if it’s tied into a million knots, and you can’t bring yourself to even touch the plate of fruit Klaus had fetched for you to nibble on as you got ready for the big day. Allison works diligently to perfect your look despite her insistence that you should have just let her hire a professional to get the job done, but you were adamant about keeping everything as simple as possible. Neither you nor Five wanted some big extravagant mess when it came to your ceremony, and if it had been up to you both you would have just settled for a courthouse marriage, but his family wouldn’t have it. You were finally becoming an official Hargreeves, and they deemed it necessary to celebrate with a proper wedding and reception despite the fact that there really would only be about ten guests at most.

You met Five in the apocalyptic ruins of the world while scavenging for food. Despite everyone you knew and cared about perishing in the gale of fire that blanketed the earth, you had miraculously survived. Call it pure luck for being at the right place at the right time, but you had been searching for a flashlight in your underground basement when the moon had been struck, and the reinforced steel structure of the room had kept you from suffering the same fate as everyone around you.

Neither of you trusted each other in the beginning, but you both were smart enough to realize that sticking together was necessary for your survival, and so you put aside your differences to travel the apocalyptic wasteland together. That’s not to say there weren’t times when you got on each others nerves or wanted to strangle him with your bare hands, but with time your partnership evolved into an actual friendship, and perhaps it could have evolved into more if not for the constant distractions that arose during your fight for survival.

Allison accidentally poking your eye with a mascara wand interrupts your moment of reminiscing, and she merely gives you an apologetic smile when you shoot her a look of annoyance in return.

“I told you we should have hired a professional,” she reminds you matter of factly only for you to lightly swat her hand away.

“And I told you I wanted to go down to the courthouse and pick up a sheet cake at the grocery store,” you counter with a raised brow. Sensing defeat, Allison relents with a small sigh and takes a step back to look at her masterpiece.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just our family doesn’t get to do these sorts of things very often, and it’s not every day I get a new sister.”

Your shoulders slump guilty at her admission, and you find yourself now feeling less combative against her than you initially were. Though you mentally are in your 50’s and no longer see a need to have a big wedding to marry a man you’ve known for basically your whole life, you still physically look like a young bride, so it’s only natural for Allison and the rest of Five’s siblings to want to treat you as such. From what Five has told you along with the stories that have been recounted in your presence, their lives have always been less than normal. You of all people can relate to that- growing up in an apocalypse, becoming a glorified secretary for a time-ordinance bureau while your only friend is out on assignments, risking your life to save the world, ending multiple apocalypses. The list could go on forever. They’re only trying to experience normal family milestones, so who are you to get in the way of that.

“No, I’m sorry,” you relent with a remorseful sigh. “I know you’re just trying to be nice, and I’m grateful for how quickly you and your siblings have welcomed me into the family despite how unconventional this all is. I really appreciate it.”

“Good, I’m glad you see it my way,” Allison teases playfully before finishing up the final touches on her masterpiece.

“Knock, knock,” Klaus singsongs from outside your dressing room before letting himself in. Proudly holding up the plastic wrap bag from its hanger, he announces, “Here I am with the dress, and as promised, nothing happened to it under my watch.”

“Thank you, Klaus,” you smile gratefully only for him to return the gesture with an affectionate pinch of your cheek.

“No need to thank me, sweetheart. I’m just so excited to finally have a little sister!”

“You know I’m technically older than you right?” You retort with a raised brow only for him to press a finger to your lips.

“Shh, don’t ruin this for me,” he gently corrects you before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. You don’t miss the way his eyes begin to water at the sight of you with your hair and makeup done, but you’re kind enough not to point it out. Klaus had been the easiest of Five’s siblings to warm up to, always treating you like one of his own and roping you into his mischief despite your fiancé’s protests. The Seance couldn’t even count on one hand how many times you had been there to lend a shoulder for him to cry on when his addiction became too much or offer a supportive hand when his siblings had been less than eager to do so. He adored you, and he could nearly burst with pride at finally being able to call himself your brother.

“Alright, we have thirty minutes left to get you into that dress and down that isle,” Allison announces with a determined clap of her hands before snatching the dress from Klaus. “Are you ready to officially become Mrs. Hargreeves?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you announce with a resigned sigh before immediately being pulled every which way by the two siblings to finish your ensamble.

You can’t wait to get this over with.

~~~

“You nervous?” Viktor whispers with a gentle nudge to Five’s side. Quiet chatter drifts through the air as the handful of guests that are present make conversation to pass the time before the ceremony begins. Neither of you exactly have big families; Five has only ever had his siblings, and your family isn’t exactly supportive of your choice of groom. It’s an intimate affair, but you both prefer it that way.

“Hardly,” he scoffs indignantly, though his need to readjust his tie for the millionth time says otherwise. Five knows that this probably should have happened sooner and promoting you from his partner to his wife has been long overdue. He was honestly surprised you had said yes when he’d finally bit the bullet and asked the question. He loved you, cared for you in a way he never thought possible and in a way that honestly wasn’t quite like him. But you were different, and he hadn’t risked it all trying to end multiple apocalypses just to not marry you once the world was finally safe.

“I’m glad you’re happy, we all are,” his brother notes with a kind smile. “She’s good for you, and she’ll be a good addition to the family.”

Five can’t argue with that. It honestly pains him to think about just how many times you’ve thrown your own life on the line for not just him but his siblings as well. You’ve been there for them even when it wasn’t your responsibility, when they technically weren’t your family yet, even when Five himself wasn’t the best brother to them all. While Five could at times be brash or crude, you were patient and understanding, and this balance helped make their team stronger. You’d make a fine Hargreeves; he wouldn’t be standing here today if that weren’t the case.

Behind the wooden double doors you nervously readjust your veil as you wait for your cue to enter the room. Diego holds your bouquet patiently on your left while Luther fluffs out the skirt of your dress for you on your right. Having no real family present for your big day, you were left without anyone to give you away to your new husband. Diego and Luther had both been eager to throw themselves at the chance to be at your side down the aisle, constantly at each other’s necks arguing over who deserved the right more. Of course, as the bride it was you who got the final say, and the choice couldn’t have been more obvious. You picked them both.

Both men had been put through a lot by your fiancé, from having to carry his drunken form out of a library to dealing with his fits of rage at their inability to meet his deadlines for important tasks, but they had always been kind to you despite the unorthodox nature of your relationship with their brother. Luther had taken several bullets for you before, and Diego hadn’t shied away from being a supportive shoulder to cry on whenever you and Five couldn’t see eye-to-eye. It would feel wrong not to have them both by your side, and they were honored.

“You scared?” Diego questions after noticing your tight grip on his bicep when the music begins. He has to hold back a wince from the way your manicured nails dig into his arm and distracts himself by handing you your bouquet.

“A little,” you answer honestly, harshly swallowing down your nerves when Luther opens the doors for you to walk through.

“You’ve got this,” Diego encourages after pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. “If anyone is brave enough to marry my brother, it’s you.”

“Brave or maybe a little insane,” Luther adds under his breath.

You can’t help the small huff of air that pushes past your lips in response to his quip, but you’re given no time to respond as your soon-to-be brother-in-laws escort you to your awaiting husband.

No one can deny how absolutely breath taking you look in your elegantly simple wedding gown, your smile nervous as you make your way towards Five who looks so handsome in his perfectly tailored suit. All day you’ve wanted nothing more than to see him, but now that you’re here you find yourself full of nerves and anxiety.

Luther and Diego give you away at the end of the isle (not without sternly warning Five to take good care of their new sister), and you finally find yourself face-to-face with the man you’ve loved for years.

“You ready for this?” He whispers under his breath as Viktor begins his officiant speech, subtly reaching for your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze.

“This won’t be the worst thing we’ve done together,” you note cheekily with a shrug as you hide your smile behind your bouquet, and Five can’t argue with that.

Though his siblings have been better at showing their excitement for this day than you or Five combined, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t happy to finally be marrying the boy who had been by your side through thick and thin, good and bad, and life and death. Perhaps your love story was a bit unconventional, but unconventionality is a Hargreeves speciality.

You’re going to fit right in.

[houseofceline]

My Pretty Girl - T.N.

Foreign Touches and Breakfast in Bed

Pairing: Ravenclaw and sort of ditzy but talented Reader x Slytherin notorious playboy Theodore Nott

Warnings: Asshole Theo?

Summary: You wish you never woke up.

Author's Note: Hey guys! It's been a while, sorry for the wait but here it is!

< 6

__________________

“How much did you even drink last night?” Cho cringed holding your hair back as another round of vomit spewed out of you and into the toilet. You could feel your head pounding as you sat on the bathroom floor trying to calm yourself down. Waking up to a hangover and your period may be the worst combination known to man, or really women. Thankfully there were no classes today. 

“Too much,” you breathed in and out, making sure there was nothing else coming up. 

“Come on, we need to go to breakfast, you need to eat something.” Cho tried helping you up as you gripped onto the sink for support. 

You were not ready to go out in public like this. Bed hair, snippets of last night makeup look in the form of smothered mascara on your cheek, and a million knives stabbing your uterus. Definitely not a pretty sight. Plus, you did not want to see any of the boys after last night incase of something embarrassing you might’ve done while out of it. 

“I don’t wanna go,” you groaned as you flopped on your bed and curled up into a fetal position. 

“You have to eat something Y/n,” Cho spoke softly as she ran her fingers through your hair, trying to flatten it. 

“I’ll eat later.” You grumbled closing your eyes, menstruation already tiring you out. 

“I’ll be back,” Cho said as she left the room, but you were too tired to say anything as you slipped away to dreamland.

___________________

A foreign touch on his chest causes Theo to stir awake in confusion. 

What the hell.

He blinked a few times, allowing his vision to clear up.

Seeing the fake blonde from last night he groaned. 

“Why are you still here?” He mumbled, swatting her hand away from him as he scooted further away from her. 

“What do you mean baby? We don’t have classes today silly,” Hannah replied as she sat up, still nude from late night activities. 

“Right, so the last thing I want on a free day is to see your face. Get out.” Theo mumbled hoping she’d leave so he could sleep so more.

“Theo baby, don’t be so mean,” she spoke, reaching out for him again causing Theo to sit up in a huff. 

“You know the deal, you were supposed to be out before I even woke up,” he ignored the nasty feeling of her calling him cringey pet names. 

“Theo we don’t have to be like this.”

“My name is Theodore,” he stated as he got up and got dressed. 

He sighed as he picked up her clothing items off the floor and threw them at her. 

“I’m leaving since you won’t. But I advise you to wake up before Malfoy does, you know he doesn’t like you.” Theo said as he walked out, ignoring the gasps of surprise when her bra landed in her face. 

What an annoying girl. 

He walked to the Great Hall, deciding that he might as well grab breakfast since he was awake. 

“Did you fuckers seriously eat all the sausages?” Theo scoffed as he took a seat in front of Mattheo. 

“What the fuck did you want me to eat? Those nasty ass muffins?” Blaise replied as he passed a goblet of orange juice to him. 

“HEY! They’re not nasty,” Lorenzo spoke up with crumbs falling out of his mouth. 

“Buddy you’re getting it all over me,” Mattheo shoved the boy next to him with a scoff before glancing over at Theo. 

“Fun night huh?” Mattheo raised a glass towards the bruise-like mark on Theo’s neck. 

“Fuck are you serious?” Theo groaned as he rubbed the side of his neck. 

“I knew I’d regret it, she’s been so possessive lately,” Theo rolled his eyes as he continued eating breakfast. 

“Well I mean you’re always going back to her, maybe she thinks something will happen between the two of you,” Mattheo responded while Theo laughed in response. 

“She’s a Hufflepuff, you know only Slytherin girls are worth dating.” 

Mattheo frowned as Lorenzo looked up from his breakfast.

The whole table fell silent as Lorenzo finished chewing his muffin, “Y/n’s a Ravenclaw. I don’t think she lacks anything compared to Slytherin girls.” 

“Yeah in fact I think she looked better than any Slytherin girl last night,” Mattheo mumbled, causing Theo to look up in surprise. 

“She was there?” He gaped, suddenly feeling like he was going to throw up. 

Lorenzo rolled his eyes knowing that Theo had no right to even care if she was there or not. Mattheo and him had begun to care for the girl as if she was their baby sister and at first they were rooting for Theo, but now they weren’t so sure anymore. They had thought that she could be the one to make Theo better. After all it was him who had shown interest first, it was him who had begun to change because of her. She was the first girl Theo had ever described without using compliments that didn’t mean anything. Never spoke about how hot her body was instead ranted to the two boys about how angelic her face looked while she studied and how she smelled like flowers and vanilla. Not only cared about what was on the outside but on the inside as well, bragging to the boys about how talented she was and how cool her nail designs were. That is the same boy who had his eyes set on someone else last night, and the thought of it even made Lorenzo want to either cry or punch him. 

“Yeah but don’t worry, she didn’t need your company,” Lorenzo scoffed as he continued to eat his breakfast again. 

Lorenzo isn’t the type of person to show any resentment or hold any grudges, so Theo definitely knew he might’ve messed up. 

But before Theo could say anything, a familiar face approached up behind Mattheo and Lorenzo. 

Following Theo’s gaze the two boys turned around and greeted the girl. 

“Chang! What’s up?” Lorenzo greeted happily, a complete 180 switch in tone. 

“Hey boys, I’m grabbing breakfast for Y/n since she doesn’t feel well and I thought seeing your faces would cheer her up,” Cho explained as she showed them her plate of chocolate chip muffins. 

Theo furrowed his eyebrows, “Is she okay? Is she sick?” 

Cho rolled her eyes at the boy who caused her best friend to come back to the dorms sobbing her eyes out. She didn’t even know Theo that well but as she watched Y/n clutch her heart as she cried in her arms, she felt as if the boy had broken her heart as well. 

“She's fine as if it’s any of your concern,” Cho brushed Theo’s questions away as she avoided any eye contact with him. 

Lorenzo and Mattheo didn’t bother coming to his defense but instead got up and grabbed some juice and fruit before following Cho. 

Theo looked down at his plate and suddenly didn’t feel very hungry anymore. Blaise sighed before patting his mate’s back in comfort while Theo pushed his food around. 

Maybe he deserved that. 

[harunayuuka2060]

*MC and Malleus wander leisurely through the stalls, taking their time to explore each one before the tournament, knowing they have plenty of time to spare.*

Malleus: I wish I could have persuaded Crowley to allow you to participate in the tournament.

Malleus: It didn’t help that Lilia expressed his concerns. *glances at his child*

Malleus: They have no idea how talented you are.

MC: *smiles* You're flattering me too much, Dada.

Malleus: No, I'm simply telling the truth.

MC: *chuckles*

Azul: Ah, so it's the new student.

Jade: Yes. Although I don't quite grasp Leona's intention, from my perspective, they haven't offended anyone.

Azul: I see. So they're just a pawn in this game. *chuckles*

Azul: I could put them to use.

Azul: I just hope they don't end up seriously injured like last time.

Jade: *smiles* I'll ensure they receive the proper treatment so that they feel indebted to us.

Azul: *smirks* As expected of you, Jade.

Malleus: I should get going now. Will you be alright on your own?

MC: *gives him a reassuring smile* Yes, Dada.

Malleus: *looking unconvinced, he gives his child a glance that seems to question whether they’re really sure*

MC: *chuckles* Yes, Dada.

Malleus: ...

Malleus: *sigh* If you say so, but I will have some of our guards accompany you later.

Malleus: *smirks* However, you can dismiss them if they're not enjoyable to be around.

MC: Dada...

Malleus: *chuckles* I'm just kidding.

MC: *smiles* Good luck with the tournament, Dada.

Malleus: I'll win first place right away and return to you. Then we'll enjoy the festivities together.

MC: Alright.

MC: *stood in place even after their father had left for the game*

MC: ...

Ruggie: You know you’re making it easier for us, right?

The Savanaclaw students: *chuckles as they approach them from behind*

MC: There’s no need to cause a disturbance. I assume you’ve chosen a location, at least?

Ruggie: Of course. If you'll just follow us.

*The game has begun, yet Leona still hasn’t received any updates from Ruggie or the other members of his dorm.*

Leona: *feels uneasy about it*

Leona: Have they been caught?

Leona: *glances in Malleus's direction* No, that's not possible.

Leona: If they were, that lizard would've rushed out of this place.

Leona: *clicks his tongue* Ruggie...

Ruggie: *struggles to stand up while the other Savanaclaw students with him lie unconscious on the ground*

Ruggie: You... You can fight?

MC: I wouldn’t claim that I do. I just happened to borrow a whip from the headmage, and I’m glad it turned out to be useful.

Ruggie: *winced* Don't tell me you knew about our plan?

MC: ...

MC: Yes.

Ruggie: Who told you?!

MC: Does it matter?

Ruggie: ...

Ruggie: *sighs in defeat* Leona's going to be mad about this.

MC: ...

MC: Da-

MC: ...My dorm leader will definitely come looking for me after the tournament. Let’s head to the infirmary so you can get treated.

Ruggie: *eyes widened* Huh?

MC: I can only help you since you’re still conscious. Unfortunately, the others will need to wake up on their own.

MC: *smiles sincerely at him* *holds out their hand*

Ruggie: ...

Ruggie: *swats their hand away* I can go there on my own.

MC: ...

Ruggie: *turns to walk away but collapses after just a few steps*

MC: ...

*Diasomnia won first place again, with Savanaclaw coming in second. Leona was very displeased with the outcome.*

Jack: What happened with Ruggie-senpai? He didn't show up.

Savanaclaw student A: And the others too.

Leona: ...

Malleus: *approaches him* Congratulations, Kingscholar.

Leona: Huh?

Malleus: You did remarkably well, considering that half of your members didn’t participate.

Leona: ...

Malleus: *gives him a menacing look*

Leona: Grr...

Lilia: Malleus, MC is in the infirmary helping the injured Savanaclaw students.

Malleus: I see.

Malleus: They’re fortunate that they went easy on them.

Leona: *his eyes widened*

Malleus: *glances at him with a smirk*

[kurzuha]

SOAKED

PAIRING brothers best friend!jake x fem!reader | wc: 3.7k

SYNOPSIS your brother’s best friend can never get you alone. that’s why he won’t miss an opportunity— even if your brother’s on the other side of the walls.

WARNINGS smut, smut under the influence, jealousy

NOTES i apologize for the writing! this is recycled from my nct blog @/taexoxosgf. It’s old and i’m too lazy to rewrite it 💁🏻‍♀️

“So, how’s your big bro’s parties? It’s better than frat parties huh?” Jay dangles the red cup charged with alcohol in front of your face just for you to swat away in annoyance. “No musty bathrooms and paint peeling off the walls! Woooooooo!” 

You’re going to have to have a jolly time cleaning his vomit in the morning. “Stop drinking you little shit. I’m not gonna take care of you tomorrow, just so you know.” 

He does a little dance that has you suppressing a laugh, “The night is still young!  Loosen up a little!  Won’t stop until you’re having as much fun as me!” Your brother is so out of it, that he bumps into a million corners of the home and an attendee urges him to the couch. 

“Actually… I’m not feeling so good,” he shushes the person helping before scurrying out of the main room. 

“Oh my god,” you pinch the sides of your nose bridge, unable to understand how Jay’s motto is always all or nothing. 

You're nothing near Jay's level of intoxication, and whether it's the devil on your shoulder or the drink, you want Jake.  Excruciatingly so.  Whoever claimed that drinking hypnotized you to act like a bitch in heat wasn't lying. It's more than true now that you know he's nearby– wanting to look for the focus of your thoughts because if he wasn't going to make a move tonight, you would.   

“Y/n?”  a familiar voice calls you, prompting you to turn around. 

“Hoon? Oh my god! How are you?” you’re instinctively bringing your arms out for a hug and he’s quick to immediately accept. 

You both went to high school together before he left for university thousands of miles away.  Sunghoon still texts you now and then, but due to the time difference, you both never had the opportunity to catch up properly.  

“Not doing too bad.  It’s so good to finally talk face-to-face babe, holy shit,” he chuckles.  

“How’s the East Coast?  Did you find a girlfriend at Columbia yet?” 

“Nah, you know me.  Girls there are way too preppy for me.  Plus, I can’t stand another minute of freshmen thinking they’re living through Gossip Girl,” he jokingly gags.

“Hey! Don’t hate.  That show was ahead of its time,” you raise a brow.

“It IS! But I’m talking about the people acting as if they were a part of the show themselves.  Like come on, you were probably five when it came out!” he exclaims.  

​​"Fair enough," you nod and an idea flashes across your mind as you speak. "You know who you should go for?" 

“Who?” he shifts closer, genuinely curious.  

You wave towards you as another way of telling him to step even closer and cup your hand behind his ear before whispering, “Jiwon.”

“What?! There’s no way!” he steps away, not expecting you would say your best friend’s name.  

“Come on! You guys would look so hot together!  What’s so ‘no way’ about that idea?” 

Your old friend momentarily pauses, like he didn’t know what kind of question you asked.  “She’d never go for me.”  

“What? She used to have a crush on you!  You were always around different girls so she never made a move,” you affirm.  “You know how she was in high school,” you remind him of the girl who was once afraid to step out of her comfort zone.  

“Are you serious? There’s no way that’s true! You’re straight up lying to my face right now,” he groans, looking as if he was going through a mental crisis due to the news.  

“I swear on my Loubitons that it’s true! Just talk to her,” you point to the back door. “She’s in the backyard.  I’m sure she would love to catch up.”

He brings a hand to his chin, soothingly rubbing with his index, “You do love those shoes…”  

“More than myself, so come on! The times ticking!” you press him further, and his eyes light up when he realizes the words you’re feeding him might actually be true.  

“You know what, fuck it.”

“That’s what I like to hear! Acting like a true alpha male!” you jump up and down, probably with more excitement than he has.  

He chuckles at your words, “Okay. Okay.  Let’s hang out and catch up this week.  Let me know when you’re free.” 

“Okay now go!” you try not to hold him back longer than he needs to be.  

“I”m go-” 

Before you can properly bid goodbye, you feel a hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you away towards the narrow hallway of the home.  

You see it’s Jake after checking, and he’s definitely on a mission by the way he doesn’t utter a word.  Instead, he drags you through the hallway and finally halts his steps at the sign of your bedroom door.  

“Jake, what are you doing?” 

He doesn’t answer, he doesn’t let up on your wrist, and definitely doesn’t spare you a glance until you’re both in the room with the door shut behind your back.  It’s virtually pitch black in the room, and the only light source is the hallway lights illuminating underneath the crack of the door.  

Jake finally lets go of your wrist when it’s just you two in the small space, and he brings that same arm above your head to anchor himself.  

“Jake.”

“Y/n,” his voice comes out playfully hoarse.  This was just what you wanted.  He’s right here on a silver platter and you hadn’t even come close to building the courage to approach him first. 

Too bad you love to act dumb for the hell of it. 

“What are you doing?” your eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness, noticing how close his face was to yours.  It was the perfect opportunity.  Jay was probably passed out along with the loud music all throughout the house.  There’s no way anyone could hear a thing from inside the room.

“Just wanted you to myself,” he comments.  You can smell the alcohol on his lips, assuming it was the reason behind his impatience– but don’t think he’s drunk due to his coherent speech and careful movements.  

“You have me to yourself now.  So what is it?” you gloat, acting as if you don’t notice how hard he’s pressing into the door behind you. 

“Sorry, I took you away from your little boyfriend.  Look’s like you guys were having fun,” the irritated tone of his voice doesn’t go unnoticed by you.  Even in the darkness, you can see the way he clenches his jaw following the statement. 

You roll your eyes in order to suppress a grin and the alcohol influences you to push even further,  “Hoon isn’t my boyfriend.  He’s just an old friend.  Remember him?”  

He notices the hint of playfulness in your eyes, wanting to just fuck it out of you.  But he’s waited too long to do this, and there have been too many interrupted moments, so he leans into patience for resolve.  “Oh, I must have missed something babe.”  

You shift your face closer to him to prove your point once again, “He calls everyone that!  Go up to him, he’ll literally call you babe.”

“Hmm,” Jake hums.  “Should I call him Hoon too?”  

Your eyes shoot to his plushy lips, his jealousy turning you on,  but you don’t back down just yet, “If you heard that, then you must’ve heard the part where I told him to go for Jiwon.”  

“I checked out the moment you were calling each other pet names, baby,” he leans his hips against you, eyes evident with desire even in the darkness.  

“Well, it’s definitely different coming from you,” you give him what he wants to hear, but it’s ultimately the truth.  

Jake pulls back just to lean down against your ear, “Different, how?” 

It’s like he knows the power he has over you when he’s using that tone, including the fact that you feel him between your legs only slightly hard.  It’s definitely bigger than you previously thought, the excitement shooting to your core,  “I’m not spelling it out for you, baby.” 

The name has him bringing his face back to where it was before, cocking a brow.  “Don’t do that.” 

“Don’t do what?” 

“Play games.  Don’t fuck with me because if you are, I’m gonna lose it,” he seethes, all control previously displayed being lost in an instant.  

You began narrowing the gap between the two of you even more, your noses brushing against each other.  Jake falters slightly as you do so, his hand landing on your hip.  He's noticeably less in control than when he initially encircled you in the room, taking in every inch of you as you jut your hips forward.  

He groans, struggling to keep up with what you've been doing.  

"I'm not fucking with you," you say, holding his chin with your thumb and index finger, tilting his head and maintaining eye contact. "Just giving you what you want Jaeyun."

Jake doesn’t know how you tempt while looking so innocent. If he’s being honest with himself, he never holds a sliver of command when you’re present.  “You’re hot as fuck,” he mutters.  

"You're hotter," you smile, and your lips nearly touch at the movement.  

“Don’t call me that name unless you can put your money where your mouth is.” 

“I know where I’d like to put my mouth,” you smirk and the ribbon of control Jake has been holding onto so dearly snaps.

You're grinning ear to ear, but it's short-lived when Jake grabs your nape and collides his lips on yours. You've never been kissed like this in your entire existence, and you simply want to drown in him. You press your mouth harder on his, and he responds by placing his entire weight against your body. The buzzing all over your body sobers you, and you notice the piercing on the corner of his mouth.

 The silver metal grazing over your lips provides a cold sensation to the scorching atmosphere, and you push down a moan at the feeling.  

He’s such a good kisser, it surprises you but doesn’t at the same time.  The boy you used to know was so different than the one in front of you now. 

When you set your arms around his neck to play with his locks, he grabs a hold of your waist. You're drowning, arching your back to relieve the tension in your body as the kiss deepens.  Jake licks your lips, and you easily accept his tongue. His tongue dances with yours, getting sloppier by the minute, ready to rip each other's clothes off.  

He taps the back of your leg with his hand, signaling for you to jump.  You do so without breaking contact with his lips, and he smiles against yours.  The taste of alcohol in his mouth ignites something within you, along with the scent of his washed hair intertwined with the cologne he’s wearing.

Jake slowly sets you down against the mattress, slotting himself between your legs before he pulls back for air. “You look submissive as fuck right now.  Is that what you’re into?  Being dominated?” he purrs, fingers playing with the waistline of your pants.  

“Only if you like to dominate.”  

The switch in his head flips, and he uses one hand to unzip your jeans to slowly run his fingers over your clothed clit.  Your toes curl at the sudden pressure to your sensitive core that's been begging to be touched.  The thin material of your panties doesn’t do much to shield his touch, but one thing’s for sure, if it feels this good, you can’t imagine how it’d feel when it’s not just a tease.

“Fuck,” you pant, moving your hands underneath Jake’s shirt.  

“What?” he asks, moving down to your neck.  The sensation of his warm tongue against your neck has your skin igniting goosebumps all over.  “I can’t hear you.  Already falling apart?”  

“N-no,” you stutter, knowing damn well that anything done to you will be the actual end.  It seems like he wants to win the moment he brings his red and swollen lips back onto yours, sparing any niceties.  He’s smothering you, ruthlessly kissing you to no end.  But when you become lost in his lips once again,  Jake slips his hand underneath the band of your underwear to touch your pussy head-on. 

“Jake,” you whine against his mouth. 

Of course, he doesn’t let up, circling your bud, knowing exactly where to touch you even though this is the first time you’ve done this with him. It’s nothing, but feels like so much, your thighs attempting to close around his hand.  

He’s still attacking your mouth with his, fingers trailing in an up-and-down motion between your folds.  It surprises you, and you moan against his mouth, unable to maintain the same pattern with your lips. “Fuck, you’re already so wet,” he lets go of your mouth with a pop, groaning at the arousal coating his fingers.  

“Please, Jake. I need you,” you whimper, unable to take any more of the mere seconds of pleasure he’s giving you. You don’t even look down as he slides your pants off along with your panties in one motion. He tsks, lowly enunciating a small, “So impatient.” 

Without anything in the way, he doesn’t waste time plunging his fingers into your pussy, groaning at the way the muscle tightly clamps around his fingers– and it shoots straight down to your core, never getting enough of how deep his voice is.  

The pleasure you’ve been trying to grasp is finally reached, a gasp spilling from your lips once he curls his fingers inside you.  Your hands have found their way to his back, fingers digging deep into his skin and he hisses at the slight pain.  

“Tell me you want this,” he murmurs against your ear while his fingers begin to speed up in pace.  You’re bucking your hips up, wanting to meet him halfway in order to reach euphoria.  “I w-want it,” you cry.  

“Want what?” he asks, voice too soft for the motions he’s enacting.  

“Want you.  Want you so bad,” you moan, throwing your head back when he hits a certain spot.  It feels too good to stop, and every part of your body tingles at the pleasure. 

You want to sob at the feeling it brings you, his fingers, mercilessly driving in and out of your cunt, while his thumb circles your clit. Your stomach feels tight from all the stimulation, and his body pressed against yours makes you feel hot all over.  What you don’t notice is Jake’s watching every movement on your facial features, loving the way your brows scrunch and how your pretty lips open up every time he hits a certain spot.  

The band in your lower abdomen is on the verge of snapping, and the fact that he's above you doesn't help.  Jake's hair still falls perfectly, occasionally brushing the tip of his nose.  He’s so fucking hot, you can’t hold back.  You can't stop the orgasm from reaching your body simply by the way he feels on your body and looks above you.  

“P-please,” you beg. 

At the feeling of your pussy tightening around your fingers,  he digs into your cheek, bringing your face back towards his.  “Come on, you can do it.  Cum,” he demands.  

“F-fuck! I-I’m gonna–” you scream, body convulsing as your orgasm washes over you.  He doesn’t stop his movements until you’re whining for him to stop.  Pulling his coated fingers out, just to bring it to his lips.  

As the climactic high wears off, your body becomes limp, but the image of Jake bringing his plump lips to wrap around his fingers leaves you wanting more.  You nearly squeak when he groans at the taste, letting go of his fingers with a pop. "Mmm," Jake moans.  "You taste so good."

“Here, have a taste baby,” he smirks, bringing those same digits to swipe motions at your core. You whimper at the sensitivity, the buzzing feeling still present. “Open,” he commands.  

You listen, sticking out your tongue for him to insert them into your mouth.  The wet muscle swirls around his fingers, finally closing around them, and you gag when he presses further into your mouth, teasing your throat.  “Good girl.” 

It’s so arousing that you intend to get up from your original position beneath him, but he catches your wrists and pins them over your head to keep you in place.  Maybe it's the unfulfilled horniness from all the other times he’s tried to get you under him, but it's got you whining and squirming beneath him for his tolerance.  “Fuck, it’s like you knew this was gonna happen,” he murmurs, not taking his eyes off your body.  

His hot breath fans against your face, “Did you?” He begins to trace the contours of your body, slipping underneath your shirt on his way up.  “No,” it’s a weak response, body twitching when he starts massaging your breasts.  You had just experienced an unearthly orgasm, but every action of his causes your cunt to clench around nothing, and it’s only once out of a million times since he walked through the door.  

“Just fuck me,” you plead, feeling his thick cock prodding at the side of your thigh.  

“You sure?” he asks once more for confirmation.

“Yes, now hurry,” your whine turns into a pout, and he chuckles at your impatience.  

“Do you have a condom in your room?”

“Fuck no, I’m on birth control.”  He groans at the information, already quick to tug his cock out of its confines.  

And just like that, Jake slowly inches his cock into you. “Oh,” you cry at the fullness.  He’s stretching you out so well, and the slight burn just adds fuel to the fire.  

“Holy shit,” he sighs.  “You’re so tight,” to ease the tightness, his fingers are already making their way back to your bud, circling in slow motions, “Relax for me pretty.” 

You nod, eyes rolling back into your head when he slowly begins to move.  “Fffuck,” he curses, his grip moving to your waist the moment your legs instinctively wrap around his.  He feels so fucking good inside you and you regret with every ounce of your being you both didn’t do this sooner.  You should’ve jumped him when you had the chance because fuck.  How are you going to stop now?  “You feel so fucking good,” he groans at the sensation.  

“J–ake,” you moan, “Faster.”  Your walls clench around his hard cock dragging against your walls, speeding up in pace and you fully lose it. The lewd sounds of skin slapping echo through the bedroom, and Jake just swallows your pour of moans.  He eventually listens to your request, practically nailing you into the mattress.  It feels so good,  the sounds coming from him, the feel of his cock pulling out, leaving the tip, just to roughly thrust back inside.  You don’t know how much more you can take.  

The thin silver chain he always wears around his neck dangles right before your eyes, and even in your fucked out state, you can’t stop looking at him.  The sweat on his forehead causes the front pieces to stick, the glow of sex already peeking through.  “This is what you get,” he spits, but you can tell he’s slightly holding back. “This is what you get for all the times you fucking ran away.  When I could’ve fucked you dumb like you want.” 

Jake’s name was the only thing coherent as he drills into you, squealing at a particular thrust of his hips.  He’s so deep inside you, tip faintly against your cervix.  “You’re cock’s s-so big,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision.  The higher the tension builds in your stomach, the more Jake continues to destroy you.  “Jake, fuck!”

“You like it hard huh?  Want me to make your pussy mine?”  His dirty words only have you holding onto him tighter, digging the heel of your feet into his spine. It’s too bad you can’t respond, your brain a puddle of mush at this point, cock going too fast for you to think about anything else.  The bed frame knocks against the walls as the bed shakes but there’s no room to worry about that.  Especially when he’s hitting every spot inside you perfectly.  

“Answer me,”  he grunts as your moans grow higher in pitch, unable to take it much longer.  

“Y-yes, it’s a-all yours,” your body jolts after every movement, carving pleasure all over his skin. The thread that holds on for dear life is on the verge of snapping, and you wail before your second orgasm can send you crashing down.  

It was so easy for Jake to slide in and out of your pussy, your dripping arousal coating his cock perfectly.  “Ja–” you attempt to warn him, but he already made his way back to your clit, pressing rough circles.  You begin to babble random sounds,  unable to form coherent words when he’s impaling you.  

“Yes!” A shriek tears itself from your throat at your orgasm, and your toes curl at the high that takes over you yet again tonight. Your body spasms, and your mind stuck in a haze when he continues stuffing your achy cunt with him.  

“Holy shit,” it’s almost impossible for Jake to keep going when you’re clamping down on him like a vice, keeping him from completely being able to leave. 

“Inside, cum inside, Jake,” you plead when his hips begin to stutter.  After a few more thrusts, he fully moans, painting your insides. “Fuck,” It feels even more full than before, if that was even possible and you whimper from the overstimulation from the last few movements.  After his orgasm is at its resolution, he slumps into your form, not bothering to pull out. 

You’re both just lying there trying to catch your breath, and it’s somewhat serene.  The music combined with the vague sound of murmurs could be heard from outside and that’s when you remember that there were indeed a bunch of individuals present too.  Maybe they heard you guys fucking, and Jake seems to have similar thoughts when he raises his head to murmur something.  “I forgot to lock the door.” 

Your eyes shoot wide open in response, “What? Are you serious?  Someone could walk in to you butt-ass naked!”  

You’re actually alarmed, but he just stares back at you, his mouth turning into a wide grin. “Nah, I’m just playin',” he laughs. 

You chuckle along with him, playfully slapping his shoulder because of his unseriousness.  “You’re so annoying.” 

“Get used to it baby, I’m not going anywhere.”