#this just popped into my head teehee :3

[satorisoup]

“NUH UH” OR “YUH HUH” ?

*ft haikyuu boys

ᰔ “NUH UH!!”

bokuto. oikawa. shoyo. goshiki. nishinoya.

ᰔ “YUH HUH.”

atsumu. kuroo. tendou. kageyama. semi.

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Wing Grooming

lucifer x gn reader

warnings: i’ve written before but i don’t do it often so be aware, written on mobile, no mention of skin colour/bodytype/gender/hair type, no use of Y/N, slightly sexual but no real smut, cursing.

i love lucifer and i love the wings shtick <3 also i’ve worked with birds so im applying my knowledge of them here teehee

lemme know whatcha think this is only the second time homegirls written an xreader. also writing on tumblr sucks it deleted my shii so many times and i had to keep rewriting paragraphs

𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔗𝔴𝔬 :)

—

Lucifer anxiously paced around his room in the hotel, unable to relax due to his wings, they were itchy. Normally he used various different objects to break the casting of new feathers, and remove those pesty pin feathers. He’s been so busy at the hotel recently, he completely neglected his feathers causing some unfortunate issues with his malt. After all he didn’t have only two he had a whole six, and it wasn’t easy to take care of all at once. In all honesty, Lucifer would rather cut them off before asking for assistance with preening them. Tossing his hat to the side his wings popped out unwillingly loose feathers flying around him. Curling the first set in front of him, he picked through to find the cause of the itch and discomfort. Chills ran up his back as his fingers gently searched through, they were sensitive from lack of care not to mention preening never failed to give him goose bumps. A knock sounded from his door making him jump, his wings puffing out around him. “Uh, ah, one moment.” He shouted in a sing songy voice, jumping to his feet from where he sat he hurried over eager to get back to preening.

Swining the door open you stood on the other side smiling with papers in your grasp. Keeping his wings hidden slightly behind him and the door he greeted you with a charming smile. "Hi luce, Charlie said these belonged to you something to do with the different rings?" Quirking your head to the side you observed the king with curiosity. He was visibly uncomfortable, fidgeting and shifting from side to side. "Are you alright?" He blew air out in a pft sound at you and stood a little straighter. "Just a little feather issues, you know how it can be..." Lucifer trailed looking off to the side trying hard to ignore the stinging itch that shot through one wing.

“Oh can I help in any way, if that’s not strange?” You ask innocently but Lucifer’s mind went immediately to the gutter with the thought of you tracing your hands down his back and his combing through feathers, it made him shiver with delight. Although his blush was evident and his demeanour dropped to a slightly more shy one, you remained waiting patiently for his answer. “It’s- uh, normally, i don’t let anybody touch them. Um, but you can! Of course..” He trailed switching between stretching himself up with confidence and shrinking down again with doubt, regardless of his apprehension he still stood aside opening the door wider for you to enter. “It’s just the preening process is all. Difficult to reach.” Lucifer muttered as you welcome yourself into his room. With a bright smile you reassured him that you would do as he asked and you’d rather help than have him be stuck with that icky discomfort.

Setting the paperwork down on a table, Lucifer closed the door and lingered next to a bench sofa whistling as his wings flapped him at random behind him. Turning to him he looked a little shy still not fully meeting your gaze. Unsure of what exactly to do but you gave him an assuring smile. “I don’t have to do this, I can get Charlie to?”

Lucifer laughed quickly shaking his head. “Ha ha, no that would make things worse actually, you’re much preferred! Just y’know it’s a lot to work on.” Plopping down on the bench he outstretched his wings behind him on full display for you, his heart pounding against his ribs. You felt a zap of emotion shoot through you at the admission that you were wanted by him for this job.

It wasn't a secret Charlie's dad woo'd you the moment he waltzed in the door, but your loyalty was with Charlie and you didn't want to disrespect her by eye fucking her divorced father while he's here to help. Although Charlie seemed pretty enthralled that her father was making an effort to spend time with her friends, even elbowing you and whispering that he seemed to particularly enjoy conversation with you.

After that it was harder to ignore the way you felt for the King, Charlie would constantly drop not so subtle hints that her dad took a liking to you and that caused your mind to wander and fantasize. From there on you got more confidence putting yourself in situations to catch him alone in conversation or help him with different tasks he had to complete. Beginning your work on his wings, you hummed quietly to yourself easily spotting several pin feathers coming in that needed to have the keratin shell taken off. Carefully you split the feathers away and massaged off the shells one by one listening to Lucifers pleasant hms, groans and sighs. He visibly slumped, and his body rested just barely against your thigh as you worked on the very top wing. “These look pretty cluttered hun, have you been struggling to care for them?” You didn’t even notice the pet name slip as you called everyone off handed pet names, but Lucifer did notice and it brought him a warmth he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Sweetly talking to him about his wings without judgement, combing them comfortingly, humming like an angel just to him. It felt as good as when his ex wife was still around caring for his wings. It’d been so long since someone was by his side caring for him like this.

Lucifer never responded properly to your question about upkeep only humming in a trance like state as you worked your way through the top set of wings "You're so good at this, sheesh, I wish you'd do this all the time." You blushed faltering slightly which Lucifer panicked about, tensing and opening his eyes. "Of course i'm only spit balling, heh, it's just so relaxing like a sauna!" Shaking your head you moved down to the last set of feathers not missing the way he shuddered with your touch. "It's alright i don't mind that you say that. It feels nice actually, to help you." Lucifer didn't say anything feeling suddenly heated as ever as if hell wasn't hot enough. The feathers closest to his hips were unsurprisingly the most sensitive and the touches although innocent felt suggestive to him. The King felt dirty for feeling a euphoric sense of pleasure ripple through his bodv and straight to his junk while you unknowly worked through his feathers. “You okay? Did I hurt you?" You asked noticing his breath picking up and his body stiffening. Lucifer grinned and turned to look at you you meeting his gaze and seeing just how dazed he truly was. "I'm just... well,"

It was like his throat closed as he looked back at you crouched down to get at the last row of feathers that were draped along the floor. The king swallowed snapping his head forward again. “Ahem, I’m sensitive, good, sensitive.” He had hoped you understood his insinuations. Which you had. Breathing in deeply you flattened your hand out spreading your fingers and combing through the feathers more methodically from the base of his wings and outward. That cause him to jump up standing straight, you followed in persuit, panicking that you crossed a big line. His wings twitched but he stayed staring forward rigid, you quickly walked around the bench calling to him softly. “Lucifer i am so sorry if i crossed the line, that, that was unacceptable i’m so sorry.” To which Lucifer spun to you, face red, grabbing your shoulders he smiled a somewhat embarrassed smile. “No no, that was completely fine, i just,” Lucifer pulled away tucking his hands away from you, again which was kind of upset you.

“I think if we continue that, type of grooming, I won’t be able to control myself.” Although still shy about his admission his eyes were half lidded and his smile sly. You felt fire explode in your stomach all innocence out the window as your mind settled on one thought. You were gonna bang your friends divorced dad.

[catiuskaa]

you asked me to stay. [Not yet].

PAIRING! idol!bangchan x reader

SUMMARY: even if idols 'don’t date fans', there are no rules against a little bit of teasing, and so it happens that Mr Bang Chan here really likes your kind of thinking.

WC: 4.1k

CW: starts off fluffy, then angsty if you squint?, but develops into a (short but still) spicy NSFW. lol, the triangle of (fan)fiction! not gonna say anything else cause I don’t want to spoil it, teehee. Have fun! (I did!)

REQUESTED! here by my sweet 'n spicy baby @sharonxdevi, hope you like my take on it! <3

A/N: wanted to pop down here as a reminder that just because the setting is a fan meeting and yada yada, this work is still unrelated to Channie as an idol. now, please keep reading! I really like how this one turned out 🤭

[♦️☆🔒☆♦️]

He's so sweet.

You kept giggling and blushing like an idiot, but how couldn't you? The Christopher Bang was right before you, smiling and laughing at the lame jokes you blabbered as a blush surely creeped out, your face a deep shade of a pinkish tone.

“Oh, and I wanted to mention that you look so amazing in your performances! You have me addicted, Chan.” You giggled.

He chuckled, blushing lightly, raising a hand to his mouth, half covering it. “Really?”

You could melt at the sight of him.

“Yeah! I’ve watched all your fancams.” You nodded with enthusiasm.

His laughs turned louder, his ears red. “I feel so shy knowing someone as pretty as you watches me dance so much.”

…

You blinked, your eyes wide.

As what?

He cheeked his tongue, eyeing at you sheepishly.

Oh. So he knew what he was doing.

You smirked softly. Your change in attitude made him raise his eyebrows slightly.

“One minute.”

You eyed at the suited man that came to talk to Chan and smiled. He left back to his position, and you leaned closer to the idol.

“Just have to say, that tongue of yours?” You chuckled, and to him, it was one fo the most enticing sounds he had heard in a while. “Keep it in your mouth if you don’t want STAY to act up.”

There was a bubbly feeling in your stomach that only heightened when you watched his face displaying raw surprise.

You were about to combust in spontaneous fire because, well, you just flirted with an idol, a real famous one, that is, but then, he smirked, leaning even closer to you. You could feel his breath on the shell of your ear. His hand softly took yours, and your breath hitched as he snickered playfuly, making you feel a shiver travel down your spine.

“I’m thinking there are far more interesting places where I could keep it.” He grinned in a teasing tone, staring at your lips for a second, licking his own. “But I’m obedient. I’ll keep my mouth shut if you say so.” He stated lowly, his eyes locked on yours. …

Oh.

OH.

MY GOD.

He squeezed your hand, sitting back again. His face was covered by a shade of red, and he couldn’t exactly place what had taken over him.

For a moment, he bit his lip, wary of your reaction, considering you hadn’t so much as muttered anything, frozen in your place.

But then you chuckled, struggling to grasp what had just happened, and his whole body relaxed when you squeezed his hand too.

“Bet. You won’t.” You snickered, standing up, siren eyes staring down at him as you moved away, allowing the next person’s turn.

He winked at you as you left.

W-What had just happened?

Your mind felt fuzzy.

Had Bang Chan just done the triangle method on you?

Chan stared at your back before facing the person in front of him.

He could’ve sworn he had seen you before.

[♦️☆🔒☆♦️]

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

Chan grimaced at Hyunjin, sinking his head back on the pillow in his hotel room.

“Leave him alone, Jinnie.” Yongbok frowned slightly. “But I have to say. Not the smartest move, mate.”

Chan sighed in frustration. “I know, I know.”

And it was because he knew that he didn’t dare to say, but just thinking about you, he also knew for a fact that he wouldn’t hesitate on doing it again. Had he had the opportunity, maybe even more.

But idols don’t do that.

Because it is for a reason that idols don’t date fans. Marketing? 100%. Sure. But it also protected them from scandals and such. Or that’s what Chan liked to say to himself.

Felix felt a bit guilty. Chan had gotten scolded by almost all the members now, some who went more ballistic than others —like Hyunjin, who still was fuming, claiming that if Chan was going to do something forbidden, he could’ve said something better than that—, but he looked at the fellow Australian and stood up, laying his small hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder.

The taller one stopped his rambling against Chan and his alleged lack of creativity regarding flirting, and his eyes softened, looking at Yongbok.

“Give the man a break.” Felix smiled softly. “He understands what he’s done. He’s a big boy. Right, Channie?”

The big boy lazily raised his hand from the bed, not moving his head from the pillow as he hummed and raised his thumb.

“This bitch—” Hyunjin started, threatening to throw a pillow at the older one, but Felix quickly pushed him away, taking him back to their room.

Finally alone after what seemed like a lifetime, Chan turned around, staring at the ceiling.

He covered his face with his hands.

Reckless. Stupid, reckless idiot.

It had to be past twelve when he got tired of waiting for sleep to get to him. That never happened anyways. So he stood up with a groan, yawning out of boredom, quickly fetching a jacket and heading to the elevators with slow steps.

He got in and slowly started to put on his beanie and his mask, which wouldn’t really make a difference if someone recognized him, still, it gave him some reassurance. But then, the elevator stopped barely two floors after he got in.

His whole body tensed up.

He recognized who stepped in, messy hair, funny slippers and padded jacket on.

He knew who that was, because he had been right.

He had seen you before.

“Oh.” You smiled, and he could tell by the small wrinkles in your eyes, because the bottom half of your face was hidden by the jacket’s high neck. “Good night.” You mumbled softly.

He nodded. He was afraid you’d recognize him. He was unsure of what to do himself —or if he should do anything—, he couldn’t even think of how you would react. And just the idea that you wouldn’t like seeing him there made him hide his face more in his dark mask, so instead, he fidgeted with his room card, not daring to look at you for too long.

“Trouble sleeping?” You pondered in a kind tone. He nodded again, and you smiled. He had to hold back the impulse of lowering your jacket just so he could see your bright features, the ones that had charmed him so much barely a couple of hours ago.

“Same here.” You muttered, and he could’ve sworn that your voice alone, warm and soothing, could singlehandedly lull him to sleep in a heartbeat. “Walking helps though, don’t you think?”

He, again, just managed to nod. But for some reason, your presence didn’t make him feel guilty for not talking. In the middle of the night nothing seemed to have any rules between you two and the four walls of the elevator.

“Sorry, am I bothering you?” You asked in a murmur.

It was the first time he shook his head no, vigorously so, and you blushed lightly, smiling.

“Good to know.” You grinned, chuckling softly. The elevator dinged, arriving to the last floor. Chan held back a frustrated groan, yearning to keep hearing your voice.

“Have a good night.” You smiled, but his hand softly took yours.

“Huh?” You muttered softly.

Chan struggled. Fuck, shit, fuck. He had done that completely out of reflex. He didn’t know what to say, and just scrathed the side of his face, staring at your linked hands.

He shook his head once more, asking you to stay.

To you, you already had the weird feeling that you knew him. But he touched your hand, and something from it felt shockingly familiar.

Now, you could’ve sworn you had seen him before.

“What is it?” You asked, your voice coated in something sweet, something that Chan suddenly wanted to taste. “Would you like to walk with me?”

He nodded eagerly. And you grinned sheepishly.

You two crossed through the hotel main’s hall nonchalantly, and Chan just followed you, intriegued that you hadn’t taken the main entrance door to exit.

“Trust me,” you muttered, smiling. He felt it was scary that he would, in a heartbeat. “The gardens are so much better.”

You took his hand. A motion completely out of reflex, that both of you only allowed yourselves to yearn for in silence.

You grinned at him, turning around, and his breath hitched, lips parted beneath his mask when he realized how close you were.

You opened a black door to your right with a soft push of your body.

The hotel gardens at night were like a dream. The moonlight turned everything into a soft, magical scene. Tall trees swayed quietly, and you could hear crickets and leaves rustling. There was a small lake below it, its water calm, that reflected the image above it like a mirror, moon and stars glistening on the clear surface.

Even if Chan was only looking at the glow through your eyes.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You grinned.

You stared back at him. Something in his eyes reminded you of someone you knew. A peculiar someone, that is.

He hummed in agreement, and your smile widened.

“Shall we?” You giggled in a murmur, letting him step outside before you.

There was a warmth in the night that ushered Chan to take off his mask and hat.

But he didn’t dare to. Not yet.

You two walked alongside, hands and knuckles brushing against each other, and the idol allowed himself to grin as you smiled, looking at the flowers that decorated the place. It was the first time in his life that he had found solace in the shared silence of insomnia.

With a swift motion, he surrendered. He felt like it wasn’t fair to know who you where if you didn’t —or couldn’t— recognize him. To hell with it, he thought, taking his hat and mask off.

But, much to his surprise, you didn’t so much as glance at him. You just snickered when he sighed, sounding happier, breathing in the sudden cold breeze that swooshed in the garden.

“Better, huh?” You mumbled in light amusement.

He smiled, shoving his hidden identity in his pockets.

“Much.” Chan muttered.

His heart beat loudly on his ears. He could feel it pulsating rapidly, waiting for the moment where you would turn to face him.

But you weren’t, just strolling down the stone path, callously ignoring his nervous demeanour.

He was about to stop and move you, but instead, your hand took his again.

And then you squeezed it lightly. Much like he had done a couple of hourse ago.

His breath hitched. He stopped walking.

“Chan?” You smiled.

He felt chaos unravel inside him, his cheeks blushing, his palms getting sweaty, and his heart giddily beating in his chest.

Another rush of soft air crossed through the hotel’s gardens, making your hair move with it. He could smell your light scent, something that felt warm inside him, something that he felt could lull him asleep.

You grinned.

“Hi.”

He chuckled lowly. He hadn’t let go of your hand. A part of him didn’t want to. Not yet.

“Hi.”

He saw you blush under the moonlight, not knowing his red-tinted cheeks were more obvious than yours.

“What’s a boy as pretty as you doing in a place like this?”

…

He blinked, his eyes wide.

As what?

He saw you cheek your tongue, doe eyes looking at him teasingly.

Oh. So you knew what you were doing.

He chuckled, thinking that was going to be all your teasing.

“Judging by how long it took for you to talk, I guess you did mean to keep your end of the deal.”

“Huh?” He inquired softly.

“You know.” You bit your lip and blushed a bit more, making him more interested, taking a step towards you without realizing. “Keeping your mouth shut. Like the obedient boy you are.”

He started breathing heavily, a low laugh rolling off his tone.

“Oh, yeah?” His smirk was only powered by yours. “I must say, I can be quite rebellious.”

“Really?” You snickered, feeling his hand squeeze yours again.

“Very.” He gulped. His bravado only lasted for so much, and deep inside, he was equally scared as curious.

He wanted to keep going. He wanted you to stay.

“Are you trying to prove it?” You mocked cheekily.

He stared at your lips, his breath felt heavy. “Would you like me to prove it?”

His hand threatened to reach for your cheek, but it was you who finally held it and moved it towards your face.

“Bet.” You giggled. “You won’t.”

The night air was crisp as your eyes, deep and expressive, locked with his, inviting and enticing, a secret to be held in them. His hair, often styled with flair, rested curly and messy, but you couldn’t help but get lost in the untamed beauty that he portrayed. Not even his lips gently grazing yours could wipe either of your smiles under the moonlight.

And then, for a moment, it wasn’t gentle.

Maybe it was because he sighed against your lips, or maybe it was because you followed an impulse and bit his lower lip, but then it got twisted. Tongues danced with one another, fighting for dominance in a burst of sudden passion.

“C-chan,” you gulped, arms traveling to his nape, playing with his hair. It made him weak.

“Chris,” he sighed, yearning to taste your lips again. And again. He didn’t want to stop. Not yet. “Call me— call me Chris.”

You chuckled. “Only if you call me…”

You were going to tease him, but your ideas suddenly flew away form your mind when he started peppering kisses on your neck, grazing your skin with his teeth.

“What?” He snickered. “A pet name of sorts?” He was teasing you, and he was so enjoying it, tasting the weirdly sweet and enticing flavour of your skin in his lips. “Would you like that, princess?” God, he needed more.

You bit your lip, holding back sounds behind heavy breaths, and he patted your thighs, making you jump into his arms without hesitation. Quickly, he moved the both of you, pinning you against the wall closest to you.

“C-chan…” He bit your skin slightly harder. “Chris! Ah, Chris…!”

“F-fuck…” He muttered. “I… I can’t…” He leaned his head in the crook of your neck, now covered in small and red lovebites. “You smell so good.”

You pecked his forehead, trying to catch your breath, your hands stroking his soft hair.

“Not here, right?” You smiled, soothing, comprehensive. His heart softened.

He nodded, sighting against your neck. He let go of your legs, allowing you to stand back on your feet tenderly.

“I’m sorry….?” Chan mumbled shyly. You giggled, brushing it off.

You were about to say something, but then the gravel cracked under someone’s weight. One that wasn’t either of you.

He tensed up under your arms.

You sighed. “Move!” You ushered in a whisper.

He frowned, his eyes darting from you and from where the sound had come from.

“But you—”

“Chan!” You pushed him away, hiding him behind another wall, and quickly took your phone from the pocket of your jacket, zipping back up what Chris had lowered.

“Who’s in there?”

Chan’s breath haltered.

You had hid him just a wall more, meaning that if the security guard found any of you, chances were that he wouldn’t be caught. You would.

You both held your breathing, hands interlinked even if your bodies were as far away as they could to do so, your heartbeats quickening in sync.

And then, it was just silence for a minute, the gravel cracked below the security guard’s feet, and he left as sudden as he had arrived.

You legs felt like jelly, and you let your back fall down the wall, ending up sitting on the floor with a huff.

“You were going to get in trouble.” Chris muttered.

You looked at him from the floor. The moonlight highlightened his lean figure and charismatic features.

You nodded. “It wouldn’t be me who’d get in the worst of it.” You smiled softly.

He nodded with you.

“We should go before it gets too late.”

Just before heading back together to the elevators, you looked to the reception, and grinned softly.

The elevator back up felt more silent than usual. And for some reason that could speak and make him blush, Chan missed the sound of your voice.

“Good night, Chris.”

It wasn’t going to be a good night.

Not after that interruption, which not only scared the shit out of him, but also made him rethink everything he was doing with you.

Chan arrived back to his room. After half an hour of mindlessly staring at the nightsky through the window, someone knocked on the door.

Could it be you? Chris blushed at the thought.

He opened the door to find nothing. Then, he looked to the floor, and found a mug of hot chocolate and a small note.

may have taken a peek to your room card before. i had fun tonight! see you tomorrow? xoxo, your princess.

He grinned.

Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad night after all.

[♦️☆🔓☆♦️]

When he woke up the morning after, his mouth still tasted like chocolate.

There had been nothing that could wipe the silly grin on his face that day. Not his packed schedule, not the knowledge that they had to go back home and it would be his last night there, not the fact that Han had come into his room just to look for his missing sock —which, for obvious reasons, he never found there—, not the fact that Hyunjin was still bitter with him because of what he had named the ‘pretty girl disaster’ —which Chan intended to tell you just to see if you’d laugh like he had imagined.

His mind was filled to the brim with thoughts of you.

Your flavoured chapstick, your sweet scent, the way you mumbled his name —his real one, that is—, how your eyes glowed under the moonlight, how his hands fit perfectly in the curves of your waist.

He sighed happily for the upteenth time that day, coming out of the shower.

But then, Minho came in to his room.

“Hyung.” He started, and his low tone didn’t seem to bring good news.

Chan nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“I know I’m not really good at these things, but I think you should see this.”

The dancer handed him the phone, and Chan turned pale.

It was a picture taken from last night. Chan’s silhouette was fairly obvious, slightly pixelated and hidden by his beanie and his mask. And right in front of him, back facing the camera, was you, your hand holding his.

“So it is you. That’s what I thought,” Minho mumbled. “A random number sent it to Hyunjin. He saved the picture and blocked it, but we thought you should know.”

“Did they know it was me?” Chan stuttered.

The cat owner shook his head, and Chan was able to breathe normally again. “They thought it had been me with Jisung.”

It was there when Chan’s daydreaming faltered.

His thoughts started spinning, not knowing how or where to start.

Would you know about this?

What would you do?

“Hyung.” Minho sighed. “We’re leaving tomorrow.”

And Chan hadn’t been able to grasp that, but someone did.

The same someone who knocked on his door at night.

“Guys, you have your own cards.” Chan muttered, opening the door.

But it hadn’t been any of the guys.

“Hi.” You let out in a sight, panting.

Had you ran your way there?

“Hi.” He mumbled weakly.

“Can I…?” He opened the door for you, and quickly closed it back. He turned his back to you, his eyes wide and his heart going crazy.

“Chris.” You mumbled.

He turned around to face you.

“You asked me to stay last night and I went with you to the gardens.” You huffed. “But I want to stay here with you tonight.”

He blinked, passing a hand through his wavy hair. You were there. In front of him. Speaking. God, he had to concentrate.

“We’ll make a deal.” You breathed slowly, staring deeply into his eyes, yearning to know the secrets hidden behind them. “I’ll leave this here.”

You gently plopped your phone on the table near the door to his room. He was still standing there, as if frozen, pyjama pants on and only a bathrobe covering his lean and toned chest.

“A pretty man called Hyunjin came to me talking about some picture,” you started softly. “But yesterday didn’t happen so I’d ruin a man’s career.” His eyes followed how you raised your hands and smiled, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

“It’s off.” Your voice lowered, and he got slightly closer, as if wanting to hear you better. “The phone, I mean. Feel free to check it.”

Surprisingly, he just stared at it, then smiled cheekily, heading towards you.

Your eyebrows shot up and you felt deliciously small under his new-formed grin, and how his hands cradled your face.

He pecked your lips with a yearning sigh.

“I missed you.”

You blushed.

“You can have me all night.” Your smile made him feel butterflies on his stomach. “Just me and you.”

He kissed you again, longer this time.

His frame slowly caged you against the door, and he broke the kiss, stroking your cheeks. His body was pressed up against yours, his lips parted as he breathed softly, taking you in. He could feel heat running down his body just by the feeling of you back in his arms, and the only thought that he had clear is that he couldn't hold back anymore.

He needed to kiss you, again, and again, and again. He needed to figure out what you tasted like. He needed to have you. Your hands had gone back to where they had been the night before, and the way you stared at his lips threatened to make him fall to his knees.

His eyes were glued on your lips, and not long after, his mouth followed.

Chris’ heart was pounding against his chest, and he knew for a fact that he had never felt this way before. Never in his whole life. The more he tasted your lips, the kiss almost as passionate as your first one, the more you ruined him, claiming him as yours, making him addictied to the way you sighed and grinned as he moved your bodies to the bed, the hotter his body became.

He fell with you on the matress, and much to his surprise, you moved your bodies, sitting on his lap, taking a groan out of him.

“Such a beauty,” you mumbled, almost to yourself rather than him. “All for me, huh?” You smirked.

The whole world was hazy, the only thing that was clear was your body and your words. Just hearing your voice saying those words to him made him shiver, a shiver that he never experienced before.

He smirked too, and sighed when you untied his bathrobe, your hands roaming freely wherever you wanted to, stroking his chest, claiming him with kisses, the soft colour that they left behind, pink due to your lipstick, and the soft scratches of your nails, that made him bite his lip to keep his sounds hidden.

“Nuh-uh.” You tutted at him with a smile.

He snickered. “Oh, princess. Two can play that game.”

His hands pinned you down against the bed, his lips quickly going back to yours.

“You said I needed to keep my tongue to myself, and I promised that I would” He grinned, almost menacingly, lowering himself, trailing kisses down your body, discarding your underwear.

“I intend to break that promise.”

Maybe you and him would be difficult.

But he had asked you to stay, and you did. And he didn’t want to stop trying. Not yet.

[♦️☆🔒☆♦️]

~Kats, who did most of this in a hospital bed (‘m okay now dw) but fell asleep and didn’t publish it, lol. I LOVED THIS IDEA POOKIE TYSM !!

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Safer to Kiss (part 2) - Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

read part 1 here!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Word Count: 3236

Summary: the day after drunkenly kissing your best friend and coworker, Spencer Reid, the BAU catches a case. Lots of talking with other members of the team, general group dynamic chaos, and ✨Pining✨

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, normal Criminal Minds violence, maybe some mild cursing? Mostly just pining teehee

A/N: thank you so much to everyone who interacted with part 1! I am so pumped about this lil series, and part 3 is already started 🙈 I love love LOVE hearing from you guys, it makes me so happy and inspired to continue writing. 🥹 also not my gif, all credit to the owner bc LOOK AT HIS LIL FACE

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Spencer’s hands were on your hips. Spencer’s hands were on your hips. Suddenly the three glasses of wine and 2 glasses of champagne were null and void, because you felt completely sobered by the time your mouth pulled away from his. The reality of the situation hit you like a bus - you, in a drunken stupor, had stupidly, idiotically, irreversibly kissed your best friend. Right on the lips. There was no excusing it as a friendly peck on the cheek.

Your entire face felt hot as you pulled away, and as Spencer’s hands retracted to his own space. You felt wobbly - okay, maybe you hadn’t sobered up - and when you were once again leaning against the railing of the stairs on your apartment building’s stoop, you blinked a few times.

Spencer blinked a few times, too, as if to process what had just happened. He’d tasted like red wine, which you saw he’d only had one single glass of tonight, and spearmint gum. The combination reminded you of spring.

Your best friend tasted like spring.

Your eyes widened, buggy, as if they might pop out of your head, and you opened your mouth to say something, but no words came out.

Spencer spoke instead, with an earnest expression on his face. “Y/N-“

“Thanks for getting me home in one piece, okay, goodnight!” You rambled off, the words sliding off your tongue like they were on a luge, all blurring together into one, long megaword. You slid in behind the door and stumbled up to your unit before you could say another word.

You couldn’t believe yourself, replaying the moment on your stoop over and over as you locked the door, leaning against it and running your hand over your face. Spencer’s expression had been completely dumbfounded when you pulled away from the kiss. There was no doubt in your mind that he had been about to politely reject you, in that way that only he could do. I’m sorry, Y/N, but I think we’re better off as friends, he would say, simultaneously humiliating you and ripping your heart in half.

That’s why you’d cut him off, before he could say anything, before he could address the situation, before either of you had to acknowledge that it had actually happened.

You slept poorly that night, your anxiety getting the best of you. It was that look on Spencer’s face, how you just knew he was going to tell you in the kindest, most sensitive tone that he didn’t like that you kissed him. And your Nan’s voice ringing in your head - You’ll find someone someday, Button. You’ll be just as happy as your sister someday, Button.

You tossed and turned, and woke up with a violent hangover. All the coffee in the world was not enough to cure the aftershock of the night before.

Your stomach was in knots, a lethal combination of hangover ickies and irreversible mistake anxiety, and as you took a cab to work, you leaned your head against the seat behind you.

You flashed your badge to security and boarded the elevator to ride up to the sixth floor. The doors opened to reveal Penelope Garcia, clutching a stack of folders to her chest, waiting for you.

“Good morning, pumpkin,” Penelope flashed a smile, then grabbed you by the wrist, practically yanking you along behind her as she headed towards the conference room. Your head was pounding and while you loved Penelope with all your heart, in that moment, you wanted to throttle her. “You look horrible. We’ll discuss that later, and don’t even think about trying to internalize it and brush me off. I might not be a super magic genius psychic profiler, but I can tell when one of my love-bugs has had a wild night and I want details. Unfortunately for you, darling, you have a case. Hotch asked me to pull you directly into the conference room. Everyone’s waiting.”

Usually, when Penelope rambled on like that, you were able to keep up. In this weakened state, however, the words hit you like someone throwing putty against a wall, and it took a minute to process. You found yourself standing in front of the closed door of the conference room, with slackened posture and narrowed eyes. “Okay,” you managed to murmur before Penelope dragged you behind her, into the conference room.

You could feel the team’s eyes on you as you slumped into the empty seat. You avoided eye contact with everyone, especially Spencer, projecting to the room that you were not to be asked about your disheveled appearance and obvious headache. You spared a glance at Spencer. He looked perfect, as per freakin’ usual, with a purple button-up dress shirt and a dark tie over it. He sat up straight in his desk chair, as if last night hadn’t affected him in the slightest. You hated that.

Hotchner cleared his throat. “Let’s begin. Garcia?”

Penelope’s eyes lingered on you, fluttering from you to Spencer, and you watched as she seemed to resist the urge to say anything. “Ooookay,” she spoke, drawing the word out as she stood before the table. She used the TV remote to present the case’s info on the monitor. “We’ve got a local case today, my fine furry friends. Three men killed in three weeks,” you took a drink of the water in front of you as Penelope presented three driver’s license photos on the TV screen. “All bodies have been identified. Twenty-three-year-old Harvey Gibson, twenty-nine-year-old Kyle Moore, and twenty-eight-year-old Malcolm Greene. All three were found in alleys in downtown D.C, cause of death multiple stab wounds to the chest, stomach, and genitals.”

You choked on your water when you saw the last photo. Malcolm Greene, as in, Malcolm Greene, the guy you spoke to last night at the art gallery? You remembered spotting him from across the room, and thinking about how Spencer had said he’d gone on a date (albeit, an unsuccessful one) over the weekend, and you wanted to prove to yourself that you could be interested in other men. And then you’d gone over to Malcolm, spoke to him for an embarrassing two minutes and twelve seconds, and walked back to Spencer with a red face. And now he was dead?

Concerns about your relationship with your best friend aside, your eyes met Spencer’s across the conference table and the two of you seemed, for a moment, to fall back into your old dynamic, having a somewhat telepathic conversation with just your expressions.

That’s the guy…? Spencer seemed to say, his brows furrowed slightly.

A subtle bob of your head was how you responded. Yep, that’s him.

Spencer’s mouth formed a straight line, a mannerism that everyone around the table seemed to notice.

“Reid, Y/L/N, what’s going on?” Derek piped up, inclining his head to the side curiously. “Something you’d like to share with the class?”

Spencer’s mouth opened as if he were about to spill the beans, but he paused, seemingly deciding not to rattle off whatever he was going to say. Instead, he gestured to you.

“Spencer and I went to an art gallery after work last night,” you sighed, feeling your cheeks turn pink. “I may have… flirted, briefly, with Malcolm Greene.”

Derek let out a low whistle, and you saw Emily and JJ share an amused look. Rossi was even cracking a smirk.

Only Hotch remained as stoic as ever. “How long did you speak with him?” He asked.

“Two minutes, twelve seconds,” you and Spencer said simultaneously, and your eyes snapped to his across the table. You swallowed the lump in your throat and somehow felt your whole face turn even redder.

“Some smooth-talker you are,” Derek snickered, and you shot him a glare. Penelope, standing behind him, smacked his shoulder. “Did you get his digits that fast?”

“I don’t really see how that’s pertinent to the case,” you protested, sitting up straight and crossing your arms over your chest.

“It’s just like any other witness interview, Y/N,” Hotch reminded you calmly, shooting the rest of the team a warning glance. “Even the most minute detail could help.” He seemed to realize that you were humiliated, and that the rest of the team’s eyes on you were not helping the situation. “We can talk about it later,” he compromised.

“So, multiple stab wounds to the chest, stomach, and genitals, huh?” Rossi offered as a rough transition back to the topic at hand. Across the table, you heard Emily stifle a laugh.

“Yes, sir. All bodies were posed in a classic casket fashion, arms folded across their chests, eyes closed,” Penelope reported.

“Sign of remorse,” JJ noted, jotting it down on her pad of paper.

“Any cash missing from their wallets, or jewelry missing off their body?” Hotchner asked.

“No, sir, all wallets were found in the clothes of the victims, presumably where they had been kept untouched,” Penelope answered.

“So, not a robbery gone wrong,” Rossi concluded.

“The disposal of the bodies feels inconsistent with the cause of death,” Spencer pointed out, twirling his pen around his finger. His cadence was quick and pensive. “Multiple stab wounds to those particular areas of the body indicate intense rage at the time of the murder, disposing them in alleyways seems to be a choice of opportunity and convenience, but posing the bodies is a sign of remorse, like the UnSub suddenly realizes what he’s done and regrets it.”

“Do the victims have any friends or family in common?” You asked, crossing your ankles beneath the table.

“As far as my preliminary scans can tell, all three men were completely unrelated,” Penelope said. “The only common denominator is how they died and how their bodies were disposed of.”

“Not entirely,” Emily pointed out, standing up and using her pen as a pointer, gesturing to the three ID photos on the screen.

“Don’t these guys all look… strikingly similar?” Emily proposed. All men were white, with aquiline noses, dark hair, and dark eyes. “In fact, don’t they all look exactly like someone we know?”

You took in a sharp breath, just as Penelope let out a small gasp and Derek let out a soft chuckle. “They’re all pretty boys, like Pretty Boy,” Derek laughed.

“So our UnSub has a type,” JJ added.

Derek smirked. “The UnSub and Y/N both have a type.”

Your face turned bright red, and your jaw tensed. You felt Spencer’s eyes on you for a fleeting moment, and before you could say anything, Hotchner stepped in. “Let’s get going on this. Reid, JJ, and Morgan, I want you at the crime scene. Prentiss, Rossi, and Y/L/N, come with me to the local police precinct and interview family and friends. Garcia, too.”

There was an array of agreements murmured, and everyone began to disperse. You wanted to shake Derek by the shoulders for his little comment, especially after all the teasing you took when you realized the man you briefly spoke to last night was now dead.

You were on your way back to your desk when you felt a light touch on your elbow. When you saw it was Spencer, you bit the inside of your cheek. “Can we talk for a second?” He asked, and you shook your head.

Pointing pathetically to your desk, you responded, rather articulately, with, “The case…”

“Yeah, I know. The case. But, Y/N, we have to talk about last night,” Spencer said, looking down at you. Even though you were actually tall for a woman, Spencer still had at least four inches of height on you. Maybe five. “I mean, you just, like, escaped from me the first second that you could. Was it…?”

You furrowed your brows, confused as to what Spencer was trying to say. “Did you mean to kiss me?” He asked.

This was it. This was the out. He was giving it to you, whether he knew it or not. This was the opportunity to take it all back, to say it was a mistake. You could blame it on the wine, on your Nan’s phone call, on Malcolm - what was he gonna do, sell you out?

The chance to save your friendship with Spencer Reid was right there, and you stood there and you looked up at Spencer with your mouth open, words ready to spill out, when -

“Hey, Reid, you coming, man?”

Saved by the Morgan.

You saw Spencer’s jaw tighten, and he exhaled sharply. You were still frozen, unsure of what to say, of how to say it, so when Spencer simply frowned at you and then turned around to join Derek, you weren’t surprised.

You ran your hands over your face, still reeling, foggy from your hangover, thoroughly embarrassed from the entire situation.

“Y/N,” Rossi’s voice piped up, and you turned to see him with an arched brow. “C’mon, we gotta get going,” he gestured for you to follow him.

You sighed, your shoulders slumped, as you joined Rossi. You boarded the elevator with him, just the two of you, to head down to one of the Bureau’s black SUVs. “What’s going on with you?” Rossi asked, furrowing his brows.

In terms of group dynamics, David Rossi was like the team’s mother, in comparison to Hotchner, who was most certainly the patriarch of the BAU. You loved Rossi. He was kind, fairly level-headed, and he always stuck his neck out for the people he cared about. He also was pretty funny, and could make a killer lasagna. All those merits aside, you so did not want to talk about it.

“Not right now, Dave,” you shook your head, leaning against the wall of the elevator, running your palms down your thighs.

Rossi nodded understandingly, but you had an inkling he wasn’t about to just drop it. “I get it. Hungover, in a weird spot with Reid-“

“I’m not in a weird spot with Reid,” you corrected him, and Rossi smirked, knowing he had gotten you to crack. You shot him a (mostly) playful glare. “I had maybe a little too much to drink last night. And I maybe had, accidentally, perhaps…” you groaned, rolling your eyes at the idiocy of your actions the night before. “I kissed Spencer last night. It only lasted for, like, a minute, and right when it was over, I freaked out and went inside my apartment, and now things are just, like, weird between us. And I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, kiddo,” Rossi began, and you pursed your lips. He always hit you with a kiddo when he was about to tell you something you didn’t want to hear. “As a person who has been with many romantic partners-“

You feigned a gag.

Rossi just chuckled and continued. “I think you have to ask yourself - how do you want Spencer to react? Would you prefer to bury this and never speak of it again, or is this the catalyst you needed to finally tell him how you feel?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What do you mean, tell him how I feel?” You asked, playing dumb. Maybe Rossi was just grasping at straws.

“Oh, c’mon, kid, we’ve all seen how you look at each other. The only person who doesn’t know that you’re in love with Spencer is, well, Spencer.”

You felt your entire face flush. “You’re not serious,” you chuckled in disbelief.

Rossi looked at you and batted his eyelashes in a very feminine expression. The expression dropped and he said, “You make this lovestruck school girl expression at him at least once a day.”

“I do not!” You crossed your arms over your chest defensively, just as the elevator dinged, signaling your arrival to the Quantico lobby.

“Yeah, kid, you do. It’s pretty cute, actually. You’re like two lovesick puppies, chasing each other’s tails.”

“He does not think of me like that, Rossi,” you insisted indignantly, your voice taking a more hushed tone as the two of you walked at the same quick pace through the lobby, and outside towards the garage of Bureau vehicles.

The sun hit your face just as Rossi spoke again. “You’re such a good profiler, Y/N. How do you not see it?”

You decided not to dignify Rossi’s opinion with a response. Rather, you just shook your head and continued towards the garage to meet up with Prentiss and Garcia.

When you arrived at the police precinct, Garcia set up in the conference room, and you, Emily and Rossi each took turns interviewing the next of kin for the victims. You interviewed the mother of the first victim, Harvey Gibson.

An art student at Georgetown, steady boyfriend for three years he planned to propose to on Christmas, no criminal record, called his mother every other day. He was a good kid. Comforting his mother, walking her through all the questions the police had asked her three weeks ago — it was always a lot. But with your head already fuzzy and your mind on other Reid-related things, by the time you escorted Mrs. Gibson out of the police station and thanked her for her time, you felt heavy.

It didn’t help when the team reconvened about an hour later, sitting around a conference room at the local police station. You could tell Spencer’s eyes were floating to yours every so often, but you refused to meet them. You were working right now. You couldn’t let the revelation with Rossi distract you from your job.

Penelope took the lead, addressing the entire team. “So, our original thought of the three victims being unrelated actually has turned out to be incorrect,” she began. “Not only do all three of our victims look alike, but they all visited the same art gallery twenty-four hours prior to their murders.”

“Not the one we went to last night?” Spencer asked.

“No,” Penelope clarified. “From Emily’s discussion with Malcolm Greene’s brother, along with tracking the location of the other two victims’ cell phones prior to their deaths, we can determine that all three victims visited a different art gallery - The Restful Owl, just two blocks over from where you and Y/N went last night.”

“So, the victims all meet a certain physical description,” JJ recapped. “Brown hair, brown eyes, early-to-late twenties, and all visited The Restful Owl art gallery.”

“The gallery seems like a solid lead,” Hotch agreed. “All three victims were interested in art in some capacity - Harvey Gibson was studying art, Kyle Moore worked at an art museum, Malcolm Greene was a collector.”

“Perhaps the ruse the UnSub used was related to a particular piece or artist,” Spencer proposed, wrapping and unwrapping his fingers around his pen. “We should get the security tapes from each victim’s visit to the gallery, observe who they spoke to, how they reacted to specific pieces. Maybe the UnSub lured these men to the sites of their deaths by promising them a deal on a work, or something of the sort.”

“Good idea,” said Hotchner. “Prentiss, Morgan, follow up with the gallery. If there’s a specific person or piece all three victims stopped to interact with, I think our next step is pretty clear.”

“What’s that?” Penelope asked.

“We send in someone who just so happens to be exactly the UnSub’s type to the art gallery as bait,” Rossi concluded.

All eyes, including yours, moved across the table, landing on Spencer.

[lighteyed]

it's no big surprise you turned out this way

steve harrington x fem mayfield!reader

[3.7k] steve comes over for family dinner. it is absolutely not your idea.

disclaimer- no mention of blood relation to max, no physical descriptors of reader, they are sisters in any way you want them to be. trigger warning for shitty parents and billy h*rgrove. this is not a billy safe space.

dividers by @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

thanks for reading if you do <3 enjoy teehee

You drop a kiss on Steve’s head in greeting, which he accepts with a thrilled, in-a-new-relationship, glowing smile, before dropping down beside him and subsequently dropping your news, or rather, your request that’s not really your request, on him. “Neil wants you to come over for dinner.” You tense at the utterance of your stepfather’s name, even if it’s your own mouth doing the uttering.

   His smile dissipates. Only a little, but enough for you to wring your hands together. You want to scoop all the words you’d just said back out from his ears and spoon them into your mouth again. Make him forget it’d ever happened. “Like, like family dinner?” He asks. He can’t fathom a world where he sits placid across the table from Billy Hargrove and passes him the salt respectably and doesn’t end the night with his fist colliding with his face (regardless of the outcome).

   “No, it’d just be you and him, he’s dying to take you out on a date,” you deadpan in response, shaking your head. Steve rolls his eyes, no malice intended. “Obviously family dinner, Steve. You, me, Max, my mom, Neil… Billy.” You force out the final name. He swears he hears your teeth grinding as you say it.

   “Don’t get grouchy on me.” He reaches over and smooths out the upset crease between your brows. Your shoulders relax in response. You’re always so wound up he’s made it his mission to give you that ease he knows you crave. He’s quite good at it, on days where he can steal you away and keep your mind occupied with the lovelier things in life. But there are some things he can’t spare you from, as much as he tries.

   Really, he can only keep you out of that house for so long before your family starts demanding their 17-year-old back.

   For the most part you keep away. Max roams the new mall all day with her friends now that June’s here and summer’s entered Hawkins in full swing, and you drive them there with your mom’s car if she doesn’t need it for the day, or Steve drives you all there and then home again if he’s not at work already that morning. If he has work you loiter in Scoops the entire day, lugging a stack of books acquired from the library and settling in a corner booth, popping your head up once in awhile to check on him and his misery in his new position in that ridiculous uniform. You brighten his days just as much as he brightens yours. And he really, really does. (And you like the uniform, as silly as it is, for the record).

   “’M not grumpy,” you deflate, pressing your forehead into his shoulder. He rubs your back in a nice, soothing way when you lean into him. Ever since he asked you out he’s been taking every excuse to touch you and you’re not complaining in the slightest. He has the softest hands you’ve ever held and they’re perpetually gentle and kind. All the love in the world encased in the hands of some boy from Hawkins, Indiana, a place you never expected to find a home in, let alone find a boy. The boy, if you thought about it long enough. Early days to be thinking about it but you did think about it. Often. For hours. You sigh quietly. “I can tell ‘em you’re busy, you don’t have to come.”  

   “Max knows I’m not busy,” he points out.

   “She doesn’t wanna be there, either. Look, I’ll just say you can’t come-“

   “But I can.”

    You lift back up, wary, but hopeful. A new flower poking its petals up from the earth, tilting right toward the sun.  “I don’t wanna make you miserable.”

   “That’s stupid,” he scoffs. He kisses your head this time, the perfumy scent of your shampoo fogging his brain up in a nice, lovey haze. “How could you make me miserable? You’re like, the best thing I’ve ever had, by a mile.”

   You smile in spite of your gloomy mood. “The fuckin’ Hargroves have an innate knack for misery.”

    “It’s a good thing you’re not a Hargrove then, hm, Mayfield?” He brushes your hair away from your face and  takes your chin in his hand, angling your face up properly to meet his, and he kisses you like he well and truly means it, firm and adoring. You can feel his grin seared into your mouth when you pull away, in spite of your reluctance and Steve’s attempts to pull you back in.

   . “You really wanna come? It won’t be fun. It’ll probably be shitty, actually.” You ask him in a tiny, hesitant voice, too overcompensating to someone who do anything you asked of him. Having Steve there sounds better than not having him there, and better than having to explain why he’s chosen not to come, but you know it’ll be weird. Worse than weird. After what happened back in November, him and Billy go out of their way to ignore one another, and it’s so deliberate it sucks the air out of a room. And even with that, Billy still makes it a point to direct snide remarks to you about Steve every chance he gets: alone, in front of Max, in front of your parents, in front of Steve himself while pretending he’s not there. And it’s gotten worse since you admitted to your mother in confidence that you and Steve were together now, and she told Neil, and Neil told Billy. But there’s no running from being at the same dinner table as him. You know you’re asking a lot. You wouldn’t be asking if Neil hadn’t insisted. In a loud, pointed voice, with a stare that unnerved you. You’d agreed to it hurriedly after that.

   “Well,” Steve leans back, playful, “want to is a bit of a stretch but I can make an exception for ya-“

   “Steve-“ you groan, pushing his chest, but he laughs, pushing himself back forward, smacking another loud kiss on your mouth.

   “Kidding, I’m kidding, c’mere,” his fingers grip your waist feather-light, tickling, as he laughs, and you can’t help but laugh too through your head shakes and faux-exasperated sighs.

  “I’m really asking you if you want to, I know it’s a lot asking you to make nice with Billy.” You interlace your fingers with his and he places them on your lap, all big brown eyes blinking up at you affectionately. You’re a sucker for his eyes. You can tell what he’s going to say before he says it.

   “Nothin’s too much for you,” he says in his sweet, low voice, another kiss pressed to your cheek, his stamp of agreeance left blazing there on your cheek.

   Late into the next day he arrives on 4819 Cherry Lane, as he has so many times before, but he parks right in front and gets out this time. He doesn’t sit by the wheel waiting for you to come running out, sometimes with Max in toe, usually by yourself, breathless and beaming, ready for him to whisk you away as fast as he can without breaking a million laws. He knows it’s not the gentlemanly thing to do, having a girl come to the car by herself instead of going up and ringing her bell, and normally he would, but you insisted he didn’t, not wanting to draw attention to yourself or him, and you were already waiting outside on the front steps when he got there most of the time, anyway.

   And this time, too, you get the door before he can ring the bell, almost ripping it off the hinges when you throw it open to greet him.

   “Thank God,” you mutter. You go to take his hand but remembers yours is sweaty and pull back. The sweater you’re wearing is pretty, complements your eyes and complexion and your everything, and your hair is down and soft-looking. He’d run his hands through it in other circumstances. “It’s not too late to make a break for it,” you lead him into the house quietly, throwing your head back and casting a dark look down the hallway. “Just say the words and we can flee, I won’t blame you.” He’s dressed so nicely, and you don’t even have the time to properly admire him. He did his hair all perfect (he always does but you can tell he put a little extra sparkle into it tonight), he’s in his nicest jeans that mold against his legs slim and fit, his sweater is a navy blue and it’s such a good color on him you might cry. You can see effort written in everything he does, tonight especially. His desire to make a good impression rings in your heart. You want to regard him warmly and turn your gaze on him with the utmost veneration but your skin buzzes with anxiety and it feels like one large, domineering fist is clamped around your intestines. 

   “It’ll be fine,” he says, squeezing your hand. He doesn’t even notice that it’s sweaty, though your anxiety is palpable and he amps up his happy exterior to balance you out. He’s probably just as nervous as you are, deep down. “Parents love me.” It’s an insistent sentence. “And I’m gonna turn on my charm.” He makes a clicking sound with his mouth and snaps his fingers around a little. You stare at him, blank. Neil is rumbling around somewhere in the distance and for the time being you are utterly immune to Steve’s banter.

   Not completely, but enough. “I don’t know if that’s the kinda charm we need here,” you pat his shoulder.

   “But it can’t hurt,” he points out with a raised eyebrow, pointing a finger gun at you.

   “Oh, it can hurt alright.” You steer him into the living room anyway. “Steve is here.”

   You announce it to the open air, waiting to see who comes when you call. Your mom, immediately, rushes out of the kitchen to greet him. She’s never met one of your boyfriends before. Her greeting is enthusiastic, to say the least. And she’s a hugger. It’s nice, actually, Steve thinks, no matter how embarrassed and nervous you are, to be embraced kindly by a mother. It’s familiar, like some distant dream from a faraway past. You have your qualms with Susan, he knows that, but he knows you love her hard, and that’s why you take so much issue with the way she lets herself be treated. It’s difficult to watch you grapple with all of this, all of the time.

  “It’s so nice to meet you, Steve, or Steven? Whatever you want,” she rubs his back as she takes him into the kitchen alongside you.

   “Steve is great, thank you, Mrs. May-“ he clears his throat, “Mrs. Hargrove, I mean.“ It’s hard to reconcile this woman in front of him with the domineering men bearing that same last name. It’s hard to distinguish her as anything but another piece of you and Max. A good piece.

   “The girls talk about you all the time,” Susan says, still smiling.

   “I do not,” Max huffs as she comes out of her room, abashed. She’s in a nice outfit, too. Not as dressed down as she usually is. She tugs at her tied back hair like it hurts.

   “Ma, how tight did you do her hair?” You ask, beckoning Max over.

   “It pops out of every scrunchie!” Susan says, patting her on the head with such clear affection it makes Steve ache a little.

   “Maxie.” You open your arms for her. She stands in front of you obediently as you loosen the hold her hair ties have on her unruly locks, smoothing them out nicely as you tie it back up again, looser.

    Everything’s so nice and homey that the shift in the atmosphere is almost imperceptible when a door creaks open a bit away from you four. But it’s there. He sees you draw back into yourself, your smile, at him talking to your mom and being so sweet, at Max, at the normalcy of this moment, sliding right off your face as Neil walks into the room. You’d almost forgotten him. You could’ve stayed in a bubble with your mom and sister and beautiful boyfriend forever. But Neil comes out from the hallway, from Billy’s bedroom, and Billy follows behind, fully clothed for once, his shirt buttoned all the way up his chest, his expression dark and cloudy. His jaw is tight as his gaze fixes on Steve.

   But Steve, so gracious, sticks his hand out to shake Neil’s, smiling like Neil’s spawn isn’t the worst person Steve’s ever encountered as he introduces himself. “Nice to meet you, sir. Steve Harrington.” He keeps his mouth upturned sweet and polite even when Billy snorts in the background. He doesn’t even look in his direction.

    “Nice to meet you, too, Steven.” Neil’s handshake is more like a clenched fist. You stare at their clasped hands like you want to commit murder. Steven.

   “Steve, not Steven,” you mutter. Max touches your arm in warning before Steve can. You can’t help it. If there’s anyone you’re defensive over besides her, it’s him.

   “Steven’s fine,” he chimes in, keeping that same old good-natured Steve smile on his face. He’s too appeasing and Neil has never deserved it. He rolls his shoulders back and talks to himself in his head. Just one night. For her, for her, for her.

  “It’s the name your parents gave you, of course it’s fine,” Neil claps him on the back, and you know he doesn’t mean anything by it but you and Steve both flinch. From the words and the tap alike. Neil ignores your remark completely as he continues to talk to Steve in a way that makes your skin crawl. He brings Steve over to the dining room table and the rest of you follow suit, settling in around each other. You make sure you sit next to Steve, but you second-guess it when Billy takes the straight across from him. Neil drones on. “Y’know, it’s interesting how all this time, you’ve been driving the girls around for months now, but this is the first time we’re meeting.”

    Steve checks on you out of the corner of his eye. Your jaw ticks. He squeezes your knee but before he can answer, you do it for him. “He’s been busy, that’s all.”

Neil looks toward you. For once. It is not a pleasant look. “For months?” He tucks his hands under his chin.

   “I know you don’t like having strangers in the house after you work,” you say, placating in a way that turns your stomach.

   “That’s true,” Neil says. “Billy doesn’t seem to get the memo on that, so I’m glad someone in this house is paying attention.” The degradation of Billy at the dinner table is nothing new. And you feel bad about it. You’d feel worse if he wasn’t so nasty and hateful to everyone because of it. Neil had run into Billy’s latest flavor, Miranda Brady from your Calculus class, while she was rummaging through the fridge the other night, and he hadn’t been happy. He was polite to her until she’d been hurried out the door by Billy, and then he’d reamed into him in colorful, awful ways. Max and Susan both hadn’t been home, but it was one of those nights where you had been, and you’d lingered by your bedroom door awkwardly, making sure it didn’t get too out of hand. You weren’t sure either of them even knew you were there. Accepting the praise seems wrong. You nod stiffly.

  Billy, however, turns his gaze on Steve, the first acknowledgement he’s gotten in months. “Say, Harrington, you used to be quite the ladies’ man yourself, yeah?” A sick grin creeps up on his face. Steve sees your hand tighten around your fork. You’ve barely shoveled your pasta into your mouth. Max gapes at her stepbrother, her mouth still full of food.

   Steve clears his throat. “I had a steady girlfriend for about a year, actually. I’m sure you remember that.”

   “Yeah, but I mean,” Billy rocks his chair back. “That’s not what they were calling you King Steve for, is it?”

   You lurch forward. Steve drops his hand over your knee again. “I think it was because of the whole captain of the basketball team thing. Or the captain of the swim team thing, I can’t remember when it started. Youngest captain the Tigers had seen in a decade, actually, when I got it sophomore year.” Steve grins again and the cocky charm he possesses but hardly uses much anymore comes out to play, just for a bit. You settle down again. You eat what’s in front of you, calmly. You hear Max gulp down her own food across the table. It’s almost cartoonish.

  “Max, chew first,” Susan admonishes gently.

   “I am,” she retorts, but she’s inhaling everything in front of her.

    Billy  cuts in. “See, that’s interesting, I thought it was because you hooked up with a lot of girls. Like half the class.”

   Steve doesn’t even blink. He takes a sip of his water. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

  “Are you trying to upset your sister?” Neil asks him with raised eyebrows.

  He goes quiet again, hardened. “No.”

  “It seems like you’re trying to.”

   His jaw ticks this time. “I’m not.”

   “Do you remember what I said to you? About a half hour ago?”

   His jaw ticks again. His eyes meet Steve’s over the table. Steve feels the merest twitch of embarrassment for him. He knows all too well what it’s like to have a dad who takes a weird sort of pleasure in berating his son. “Yes, I remember.”

   You stare down at your plate, pinching the skin of your palm.

   “If you remember so well, then you should stop talking.”

   Billy stops talking. Neil turns to Steve again. “So, captain of two athletic teams, that’s impressive. I’m sure your college plans are impressive as well.”

   Steve stutters in his answer and you hold your head aloft in your hands, suppressing a groan. Max finishes her food so fast, she’s excused from the table and gone within minutes of that conversation starting. You nearly fall out of your chair in your attempt to kick her shin under the table. She holds her hands up in her retreat while nobody’s looking, mouthing that she’s sorry at you and running away into your shared bedroom. You suppress a groan again.

   Outside, after another grueling hour of Neil dominating the conversation and making dinner unenjoyable for everyone, you walk Steve to his car, fiddling with your hands again. He props himself up against his window and wrestles you out of the knot you’re in.

  “That sucked, I’m sorry,” you say, knocking your foreheads together, your mouth drawn in a thin, perturbed line.

  “It was fine, you’re fine,” he whispers the last bit. That’s what you’re more worried about, after all. You’re worried he’s mad, planning to leave you for someone with a more normal family, people who are warmer, someone capable of being warmer. You’re plenty warm around him, but you suppose you could be better. You start running over all the things you could do better and all the ways he could do better in your head. “Stop thinkin’ so much. Everything’s okay.” He nudges your foot with his.

   “No, I know, it’s just, it’s awkward, it’s not fun, shitty way to spend your night, shitty way for anyone to spend a night.”

   “It’s okay. It was good. I was good, wasn’t I?” He kisses your palm where you’d pinched it earlier.

   “You were great, you’re always great.” You stroke his cheek, lingering on his lips for a second. “You look really nice, by the way.” You’d almost forgotten to tell him. “I like this color on you.” You smooth over and down his arms.

   “Yeah?” He grins, lopsided, tilting his head.

   “Looks good with your hair.” You reach up to tug on the strand that hangs down like an art form over his forehead. You’re the only one he lets play around about his hair.

   “You look beautiful, too, for the record.”

   “I was trying to make this about you.” You poke him.

   “I like when things are about you.” He pokes you back.

   “I hate when things are about me.”

   “Yeah, I’m trying to fix that.”

   You chuckle. “Good luck.”

   He gestures back to your house. “I’m makin’ progress here. I think I get you a little bit better now, after all that.”

  “And what exactly do you get?” You wrap your arms around his waist.

  “Why you’re always so tense and grumpy.” He cups your cheeks like he’s holding the most delicate thing ever to be held.

   “I’m not grumpy-“

   “Just tense, then.”

   You accept that, begrudgingly. “I’m pretty on edge most of the time, I guess.”

   “I try to talk you out of it,” he says softly, stroking your face.

   “You’re the best, I hope you know that.”

   “I try,” he says again, and you nod. “It’s not easy. Night after night.”

   “It’s not.” You bunch up his sweater.

   “I get it, you know? They’re not here as often as yours, but I get it.”

   “Dinner with yours next time?”  

   “Yeah fucking right.” He kisses you for it, though, because you mean it, you’d have dinner with them if he asked just like he did because you asked, a long and languid kiss that he hopes no one’s shifting around the curtains to be privy to. He withdraws first and says, “Your mom is sweet, I’d have dinner with her again.”

  “I’ll let you know when she’s free, take her out, show her a good time,” you tease.

    “If she’s anything like you I’m a goner,” he laments.

    “You’re a flirt, is what you are.”

     You kiss him again, beaming, heart swollen with affection.

    When you go back inside and Susan tells you how wonderful and handsome she thought Steve was, how good he seemed for you, that rush flows through you all over again. You even bring her in for a hug.

thank u for reading ur super hot n sexy n we're kissing rn

[tojisun]

a cute idea just popped in my head!! imagine other bikers give simon an upside down peace sign (meaning ride safe/keep both wheelson the fround hehe) when his s/o with him. and she just waves her hand to others <3 they're the cutest couple 🥹

i definitely need a biker boyfriend in my life, yeah... that was all and now im going!! have a great day/night bestie <33 ☀️🌙

IM SORRY FOR JUST REPLYING TO THIS RN BUT AHHHH OH MY GOD THAT IS SO ADORABLE IM GONNA CHOKE!! thank u sm for sharing this omg ^3^

this ones short n told from outsider’s pov teehee <33

biker!simon mlist / star divider by @/plutism

ajax’s head turns when he hears the short honk from logan, the other whirling past the speeding sedan to trail beside ajax’s bike. he watches as logan brings his hand up, two fingers jutted out, and makes a pointing motion somewhere in front.

ajax follows logan’s signal, sitting up on his bike to see past the hoods of the cars, before catching sight of the infamous ‘ghost rider’ – a funny name given that the bike doesn’t remotely look like the harley that was used in the film, but one that stuck anyways. it was dubbed by a fan after seeing ghost in his first ever rally and ghost, with his sleek black skull mask and extra flare, took upon the name with pride.

but that’s not what logan was pointing at, ajax’s sure, because perched behind ghost’s bulk is a smaller figure, one whom ajax remembers hearing about – ghost’s darling girl. the man’s other half even when they’re polars of each other; sun and moon, or however else the two are described.

ajax isn’t really sure who started the rumour that the two are opposites because last time they all met, simon and his girl were equally… grossly in love.

finishing each other’s sentences, actions matching up even when they’re not looking at each other, defending each other’s honours type of grossly in love.

simon pulling his girl’s chair towards him because – and ajax thanks the otherman’s tact – it would have been too much if he just plucked her from her seat and plopped her on his lap type of grossly in love.

but ajax understands why – you’re simply such a beautiful person.

ajax’s not a shy guy – he’s sure shyness naturally gets replaced the moment one begins trusting themselves with their lives as they take on a bike – but there he had been, stuttering when talking to you. you had asked him how he knew of ghost and ajax swears it was like he almost forgot anything about himself. even how to ride a bike.

but you were so genuine with your interest in getting to know him that he felt so relaxed being around you; stutters getting replaced by the sureness in his voice, previous embarrassment getting trampled and replaced with comfort. ajax left that night feeling like he’s just been adopted as your older brother, lack of blood relations be damned.

logan’s light honking snaps ajax from his thoughts again and he turns to his friend, sending him a nod, before the two are revving their bikes to catch up to ghost rider.

when the two are close, logan splits from ajax until they’re flanking ghost on either side. it’s ajax who presses his horn button to catch ghost’s attention.

it’s laughably endearing how both you and ghost whirl your heads to turn to ajax, and while ajax can’t see ghost’s expression he’s blessed to see the way your glare melts away the moment you make eye contact with him.

one of your arm untangles from ghost’s waist to offer ajax an excitable wave. ajax raises his hand and points two fingers to the ground – ride safe! – hoping that you understand what it means, let alone know that it means anything.

ajax’s eyes flit towards ghost’s head and even though the other man is all visored up, ajax sees him nod back before returning the gesture.

logan honks on the other side of the pair and ajax watches as the interaction was mimicked. you give logan a happy wave as well and logan, the bastard, replies with a flying kiss.

ajax laughs when ghost flips logan off.

OH HOW ADORABLE THIS CONCEPT IS IM ACTUALLY SCREAMING AND KICKING MY FEET!! hope u liked this <33

adding more characters in this fun lore teehee >:)

[privitivium]

quoting your fic 🥰

okay so I was reading your fic and idea popped into my head after reading "while staring into your eyes without moving any of his facial muscles. his creepiness makes you cum rather easily. ahemhrm."

I'm just imagining fucking smth in the house up like using the dishwasher and it overflows so water and soap coats the kitchen floor and the reader is just hiding in the back of the closet, listening for any movements. I'm just imagining him using the reader as a cocksleeve to make up for it after tracking them down 🫡

this has been haunting me in such a good way and i finally got the nerve to actually get my ideas down yayy!! quoting my fic makes me so shy,, got me like teehee ....*kicks feet* sorry for any mistakes :3

domtop motherly yan bf w subbot amab reader

cw, slight panic attack ?! , rough - mean mother., dubcon ish, he's just rough with you by pulling ur arm and stuff,,, overstim

mother had tasked you to the dishwasher.

you knew how to start a dishwasher. you weren't stupid! all you had to do was load the damn thing and put in one of those little fucking soap thingies and close it and press the buttons a few times for the proper cycle when it starts trembling and foaming. w-what the fuck were you supposed to do now?!? you cant open it, trying as you might - but you can .. clean up, yeah?? yeah... yeah you can-! using the plethora of hand towels and occasionally a napkin before hearing the moderately mute steps down the end of rhe hall - h-holy fuck. you werent scared. no, why would you be? this is all a big misunderstanding... so why the fuck are you running away? almost slipping on your ass trying to skirt down the opposite hallway, trying so hard to keep your footfalls silent yet methodical ... hiding yourself in one of the guest rooms closet and having a slight panic attack - hands at your head and curling in on yourself on the spacious constricted roomㅡwhy were you so scared? mother was kind, sweet and loving. there was no reason to be so scared.

trying.. trying so hard to calm yourself down, knowing that mother probably already saw the mess of soapy water and is looking for you... or this.. could be paranoia talking, haha... he's probably cleaning it up, theres no reason to hide - you should go out there and help him, right? haha.. yeah... losing track of time, it must've been fifteen minutes or so of just rocking back and forth while chewing on your bottom lip and occasionally mutliating your fingers... urk-! feeling the vibrations of rather heavy steps down the hallwayㅡgod, they sound so angry. Even if they were just footsteps... whimpering to yourself in your little safe space as your tummy coils uncomfortably with guilt and nauseaㅡhearing doors open down the hallway. shrinking further, as it edges closer - and mother finally opens the door to the guest room you were hiding in... the footfalls near and you see the shadow underneath the doors... and to your surprise they slowly make their way from whence they came. huh. well... how soothing.

it would have been, if not for the fact mother simply tricked you. How smart... how intellectual. How... overused. yanking the doors open and you, following in suit. mothers grip on your bicep making you whimper as he pulls you wordlessly from your little hiding spotㅡnearly pissing your pants if not for the swell of irritating arousal blooming underneath your navelㅡ"augh-! holy shit m-mom, i can explain!" you squirm, grunting in displeasure as he tugs you harshly - silent throughout the ordeal, throwing you on the well-made bed that was never used for guests - before you were pulled back, sheets thrown to the sideㅡ

“a-augh.. mommy.. m-mommy, please..” your voice broken with tears and fright as you writhe on the messy bed; sheets thrown askew by mother's doing… “i'm sorry..!! i'm really, really sorry..!.!!” you squirm underneath his hulking body, he ignores your pleas without care as he was already in the process of yanking your pants down to your knees and hiking your hips up ;; face pressed into the bed, ass up; feeling a bit too nervous but ultimately could not deny your cock of such emotions..., dribbling, weeping in between your legs, unable to move in fear of pissing him off even moreㅡ

"you can't even load the dishwasher right.." he tsks, voice tense as he pulls you back into his thick arms - seated on the bed with you in between his muscular thighs; no warning as he starts unevenly stroking along your messy half-hard cock - jerking in surprise and writhing against him, "leaving me to clean up your mess... not that i have a problem with it, mmh..." talking so carelessly, so stoically while jerking you off at a fast pace so nonchalantly - hand lubed up in your drool, tears, and pre. his free arm slung across your shoulders and legs partially wrapping around you to keep you from squirming as muchㅡemptying load after load onto his hand and yourself until you were dry cumming, jerking your hips and sobbing into him,,, muttering soft pleas of "pl-ease, mo-ommy.. pleaseㅡplease i'll be good, i'm sorry i fucked up."

he was originally going to leave you to stew on the bed in your mess of cum and tears as further punishment.. but he can't help but coo at the way you pathetically call out for him - him, your mother... admiring your soft cock in his huge palm, shrunken after drawing out orgasm after orgasm... ah, he'd have to do laundry too, scolding you for making such a disgusting mess on the bed. he'd make it up to you, however. dipping in-between your legs and kissingㅡtonguing the head of your overtly sensitive cock, just to be mean... before making it up to you for real this time, even if you do quite deserve to be punished harshly..

[ittorama]

__ 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑𝐙 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐌𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐙??!?

𝐅𝐓._ 𝐠𝐢𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐭𝗼𝗺𝐢𝗼𝐤𝐚, 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝗼𝐤𝐮 𝐤𝐲𝗼𝐣𝐮𝐫𝗼, 𝐮𝐳𝐮𝐢 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐞𝗺𝐢 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚!

#_ top! 𝗺𝐚𝐥𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝗺𝗼𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐚𝐮, 𝐮𝐳𝐮𝐢 & 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐞𝗺𝐢 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝗼𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝗼𝐭𝐭𝗼𝗺𝐬 𝐛𝐜 𝐢 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝗼 😋, 𝐰𝗼𝐫𝐝 𝐯𝗼𝗺𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝗺𝐚𝗼, 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝗼𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐜𝐮𝐭!

𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍_ FIRST FIC AND THE YEAR N ON THE FIRST DAY IF BLACK HISTORY MONTH 💪🏾 I BETTER BE SEEING PRAISES OF GRATEFULNESS IN MY INBOX WHEN I WAKE UP LATER 😡 teehee this has been in my drafts for over a year el oh el...

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 : 𝐮𝐳𝐮𝐢_𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐧 !

#_ 𝐛𝐥𝗼𝐰𝐣𝗼𝐛, 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐣𝗼𝐛, 𝐜𝗼𝐜𝐤 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 <3, 𝐮𝐳𝐮𝐢 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝗼𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐣𝗼𝐜𝐤! 𝐮𝐳𝐮𝐢 & 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐝! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 !

You would think that there would be a line, maybe a boundary that Uzui wouldn’t cross, even though he teases you relentlessly like a child. You’d figure that this time around, when he spots you in the very back of the library, completing an essay that’s not due for weeks, he’d do what he always does— childish antics like closing your computer shut or maybe stealing a couple of the books you need for research. Teasing you about being a virgin? Is understandable; he’s done it before. But offering his body to “help” you get rid of it now is new and dangerous.

“What’re you thinking about?” Uzui’s cheeky tone comes from slightly under the table— where’s he not hidden at all, a hand caressing your inner thigh and a soft whine tears from your lips. You don’t wanna look at all but you can’t help it, it’s humiliating as it is equally hot how Uzui looked under you, your cock in his hot hands and mouth just inches away. “You don’t get to think about anything else but me right now, got it?”

You can only mumble out a weak apology when Uzui’s pretty pink tongue pokes out of his lips, and swirls around the head of your cock. Muffling a cry with a mouthful of your sweater, hands clutching the seat of your chair as your hips shake and buck erratically at the pleasure; ‘n Uzui doesn’t try to stop your eagerness, lips wrapping around your leaking head and keens while he jerks the rest of your aching cock off.

“C-coming, ‘m coming! Pleasepleaseplease—” it should be embarrassing how quick you are to release, but Uzui’s mouth feels so good; not even fully sucking you off but his mouth feels so hot ‘n wet that you can’t help chasing for more pleasure. Your vision fades and your body spasms from the hard orgasm that hits you, coming into Uzui’s eager awaiting mouth with a high moan that you can only pray doesn’t echo throughout the library.

Uzui let’s go if you spent dick with a wet pop and presses one, two, three kisses against the girth of your cock, peering up at you through thick lidded lashes as he studies your fucked expression.

“Such a pretty dick wasted on someone like you,” he snides in that same tone you know all too well, “But it’s okay, ‘m make teach ya how to use it to fuck someone good, you got it?”

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 : 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝗼𝐤𝐮_𝐤𝐲𝗼𝐣𝐮𝐫𝗼 !

#_𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝗼𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝗺., 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝗺𝐩𝐢𝐞, 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐡, 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝗼𝐤𝐮'𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 (𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐞𝗺𝐚𝐫𝐤) !

Rengoku strives to please you; you’re so sweet to him, and he lives off the attention and the praise that leaves your lips whenever he’s been good. He’ll follow your orders as best as he can, ‘cuz it’s not his fault that he sometimes gets too excited and overstimulated, ‘k? You just get him so worked up he can’t help it!

It’s not his fault he got excited in the mist of studying, it’s all yours, you, with your stupid pretty face and your hands that grip his inner thigh, where he’s so sensitive and he just can’t help but get hard! But you’re so good to him and you’ll give him exactly what he needs; you’ll let him indulge himself just this once, let him use your dick however he pleases.

“Does it feel good?” you ask with difficulty, throat burning as sharp gasps leave your mouth. Rengoku fucks himself on you hard, lifting his hips up ‘till just your tip in, then slamming his hips down. Both of your thighs slap together and you can’t help but wheeze out at every thrust, his muscular body weighing hard on top of your own.

“F-feels good— want more, please,” Rengoku babbles, hands grasping your shirt in an effort to steady himself. He can feel his knees and thighs burn, ‘n he feels tired but it feels so good as well, his cock still hard and leaking even after coming a few times.

“Greedy little thing,” you hum, after Rengoku pulls you into a messy kiss. “Greedy boy wants to be stuffed full of come, huh? Is that what you want?”

You breath stutters as you feel so close to coming, hands gripping Rengoku’s waist and fucking up into his tight cunt as best as you can. Rengoku’s legs give out at that force, and he can’t do anything but moan and drool as you continue to thrust erratically.

“W-wan’it,” he whines, pressing his lips against your neck to mark; and the slight pain only adds to the pleasure for you. “You’re close, right? Want your c-cum— in me, my stomach, want it all, wanna be stuffed by you—”

His words only send you to the edge, fucking up into him as you orgasm, thick ropes of cum being stuffed into his tight hole, just like he wanted it.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 : 𝐠𝐢𝐲𝐮𝐮_𝐭𝗼𝗺𝐢𝗼𝐤𝐚 !

#_𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐞𝗺𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝗼𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐞𝗺𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝗺𝐚𝐬𝗼𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐲𝐮𝐮, 𝐬𝐡𝗼𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝗼𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 !

“I try to be so nice to you, but you can’t be fucking grateful, can you? You’re such a whore that you can’t come unless someone’s pushing you down ‘n being a ‘lil mean to you, huh?”

Giyuu can only whine in agreement, slightly muffled noises from your hand pressing against his mouth. His hips try desperately to rut back against you, eager for more despite what you’re already giving him. His body urges for more; the stretch, the burn, more pain; the sting of it all makes him so needy his little cock can’t help but get hard.

“Oi, arch your back more.” you demand, pressing a harsh slap against his thigh, which was surely going to leave a mark on his easily bruising skin. He tries his best to follow your demands, he really does! But his body aches so much from multiple orgasms that he can barely move a muscle :(.

Giyuu can only whimper as his lax body is easily manhandled into whatever position you desire, not even caring about the condition his body is in. He likes it a little too much, the stack of bruises on his body, old marks barely fading already covered by new ones— marking him as yours, and only yours.

“Fuck, your cunt feels so good.” You growl, hips slamming against him, “gonna cum, you better take it like a good fucking girl.”

Giyuu tries to speak, voice his agreement, because there’s nothing more he’d want that than you to fill him like he deserves— but you’re so animalistic; shoving his head down into the drool soaked sheets (his mess) so he can’t speak, only muffled whines and noises of pain and pleasure can be heard.

Your hand yanks at his hair and pull him up an his knees; grabbing his throat to lead his face to yours, pulling him into an messy tongue filled kiss. His whines get higher, needier, rising in octaves that’ll surely have his throat sore tomorrow.

Giyuu thinks it’ll definitely be worth it.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 : 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐞𝗺𝐢_𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚 !

#_𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱?, 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐞𝗺𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝗼𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐞𝗺𝐢, 𝐩𝗼𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝗼𝐭𝐭𝗼𝗺 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐞𝗺𝐢, 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐛 𝐭𝗼𝐩 𝗺𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐰! 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝗺𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝗼𝐧 𝗼𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝗼𝗼𝐝 !

“How many times do I have to say ‘you’re mine’ for you to finally understand?”

You can only gasp as Sanemi’s rough hand grabs your chin harshly, getting extremely close to your face. He sneers at the confused whine that leaves your lips at his statement. He hates it; seeing other whores flocking around you like you’re a piece of meat— you are, but only his. He thought he made that very clear since the first time you fucked; seems like he’s gotta etch it into your dumb brain for you to understand.

“Head back. Now.” But he’s already gripping the back of your hair and forcing it into the place he wants without giving you a chance to respond. Breath fanning over the juncture between your neck and shoulder has you shivering — in fear or desperation, you can’t tell. He revels in that fear and unknowingness emitting off of you.

His hips finally start moving— agonizingly slow; grinding his hips and cock up against your stomach. The whine that emits from your throat is needy, impatient; but you know better than to move. Sanemi’s lips come to suck on your neck, leaving small hickies in his wake— every nip at your skin has you keening, hips twitching desperately at every grind of Sanemi’s.

“Fuck, ‘m close,” he whines, his grinding picking up in speed, yet not enough to bring you closer to the brink. Your eyes water, stuttering words of; “please, faster” and “Sanemi, sir” leave your drooling mouth. Sanemi thinks you look so good like this. Below him, submitting to him. As you should and always will be. Just seeing you like this gets him so close.

You feel yourself being knocked from all air as he finally— finally picks up the pace; rough and fast, chasing desperately for his release. Being denied from pleasure for so long has you so close too, and Sanemi cries; “c’mon, fuck me. Make me come!” has you gripping his thick thighs and thrusting up in and erratic rhythm.

“Sanemi, Sanemi, ‘m coming—! Lemme cum, please? I wanna—” you vision blurs and your mouth opens in a silent cry as Sanemi bites— teeth digging into your shoulder as a final push to make you cum; he can taste the copper on his tongue and feel the warmth of your cum filling his hole. His eyes role back in ecstasy as he reaches his own release.

The bite mark on your neck will surely remind you that you’re his. And when it fades, he’ll just do it again.

[kissatoru]

hey… it’s the reiner anon teehee 🤭 love love LOVED the head drabble URGGDHDGSHDG he’s so baby girl !!!

now i can’t get popping virgin!reiner’s cherry out of my mind 😵‍💫 his poor cock just cumming and cumming all over again because u just feel so good

omg heyyyy, nice to have you backk!! i’m glad you liked it hehe<3

he would be so embarrassed and overwhelmed and cuuuute, precious boy wouldn’t know what to do with himself! i just have this picture of him clinging to you, all shivering and panting and groaning, unable to comprehend how it can feel this good. he’s honestly so emotional too, with unshed tears making his hazel eyes and sandy blond lashes all wet and droopy, because you just take care of him so well!! and show and do these wonderful things to him he’s never experienced before!! and he’s scared but he loves and trusts you, there’s no one else he’d rather do this with!! and at some point those tears can’t sit back any longer, they slip down his cheeks. he doesn’t cry often, not as much as he used to, but with you, it’s never felt safer to do so<3

[angsty-twihardxx]

heyy victoriaaa!!

i was reading thru your tommy masterlist (because i'm just craving good tommy content) and an idea popped in my head.

if you're taking requests/concepts in, maybe you could do a tommy x reader where reader is shy and "innocent", but to their friend (insert random name) they talk about how badly reader wants to "save a horse, ride a cowboy" w/ tommy miller, and juuust as reader finishes saying that, tommy hears it, so he just spends a week teasing + seducing reader, until she does something about it (maybe tease him right back)

JUST AN IDEA I THOUGHT YOU'D ENJOY! 🤫

MICHELLE—!! Your very much correct because I did in fact enjoy! ❤️

Warning: 18++ (minors y’all better get outta here I stg) smut, PnV. Tommy being such a tease, but it’s okay you get him back.

AN: y’all voted for smut on the poll so I provide, come get y’all juice <3

P.s teehee imagine him looking up at you like this when your riding him 🫣

SUCH A TEASE | T.MILLER

Springtime in Jackson had a lot of benefits, like more animals to be hunted, better harvest with lots of different types of crops which made for better food. The only downside, for you at least was how more precise patrols had to be. When the weather was warmer meant a higher possibility for infected and poachers. Which unfortunately for you meant that Tommy was out slot longer than you would like.

It was nearing ten at night when Tommy, Joel and the others finally arrived back home from patrol. Being stuck dealing with hoards of infected, it came to be no surprise that all he wanted to do was come home and see you.

After packing away his horse and gun, Tommy began his walk down to the Main Street. When it came to you staying up late for him to come home, which was alot more often as of late— Tommy knew exactly where you would be waiting for him.

Down inside the Tipsy Bison you were currently leaning against the bar along with one of your girlfriends, who came to keep you company. You were grateful that she stopped by because you always had the tendency to worry whenever Tommy would, your mind would flip through every worst scenario in your head like a good book. But Louise knew how to distract you, which apparently was by telling you her latest late night rendezvous with a particular coworker of yours.

“Okay Lou, please spare me the details. I’m working with him tomorrow morning and I don’t want to be traumatised.” You giggled, the few drinks the two of you drank together were already beginning to have its effect.

Absently your eyes drifted towards the saloon doors, your boyfriend still nowhere in sight. Sadly no amount of alcohol could ease your worries when it came to Tommy, the man was headstrong— which wasn’t always a good thing. “Hey I’m sure he’s okay.” Louise squeezed your hand reassuringly, despite your bubbly personality, she could still see how worried you were. “Now c’mon enough about me and more about you.”

Tommy smiled when the sound of your laughter filled his ears, after being gone all day all he wanted to do was spend the rest of his night with you. He felt bad, as of late he had been gone out on patrol longer than he was home with you. As he walked up behind you though, he was not expecting his hears to perk up at the mention of his name.

“Oh my God! You're worse than me! Does Tommy know about this?” Louise exclaimed hysterically,

“No-no but it's a thing I swear, I heard it's a saying. ‘Save a horse, ride a cowboy.”

Tommy couldn’t help but raise his brows in surprise, you never mentioned such interests to him before, his sweet innocent baby had a dirty little secret.

His mind instantly flooded him with images of you bucking your hips on top of him, his hands gripping on your warm velvet skin. The moans that would fall out of your mouth as you rolled on top of him as you reached your orgasm.

“Hey Tommy!” Louise called out to him, her pestilential voice rang through his ears. He returned her wave with a painful smile for the sake of niceties.

Your head quickly spun around to look behind you, the man you had been worrying about for the past couple of hours was standing behind you with a wide smile. “Had me worried for a second there.” You mumbled against his denim jacket, his muscly arms engulfing you into his chest. Everything felt perfect again now that you knew he was back safe with you.

"Sorry darlin.” He spoke softly as he kissed your hair, taking in your scent. A quiet groan falling from his mouth but luckily for him it was far too loud for you to hear. Tommy really couldn’t believe that you were hiding this little secret from him, especially one that he was quite fond of.

Tommy had a plan to get it out of you though, that was for sure.

. . .

You had no idea what your boyfriend was up to but you didn’t know how much more you could take. Since that night out with Louise he had been nothing but an absolute tease, and he knew what he was doing. He was always a flirt but he had taken it to a whole new level. His hands wandered more than usual, he flirted way more than he usually would.

What would usually be a quick peck in the morning before work, turned into a steamy kiss with his hands gripping onto your ass; making it absolutely infuriating when he’d pull away with some bullshit excuse. Leaving you high and dry, it was driving you insane!

The morning after your night out with Louise he got you as far as a writhing hot mess with both of your lips locked onto each other, only stopping to take gasps for air. You moaned against his mouth, as his tongue danced against yours. Arousal begins to pool in between your legs as he drops his warm kisses down to the nape of your neck, every now and again sucking on the soft skin.

“S-shit Tommy.” You let out a broken moan, your fingers gripped onto his crimson curls. Tommy couldn’t help the playful smile when an evil idea popped into his head, lifting his lips away from you.

No words left your mouth as it fell agape, your eyes looking up at his confused. “Why don’t you take what you want sweetheart?” Tommy whispered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. For a moment you stood still in shock, never had he just plainly offered up the power to you like this. You had no idea what to do so instead you sat beside him frozen, noticing the devilish grin on his face.

“I-I dont–” Your head shook in confusion as you stuttered, this wasn’t the first time he had you lost for words like this. Tommy was a flirt, just as bad as he was the night he met you.

“It’s okay baby, why don’t you get ready for work? Wouldn’t want you to be late.” He gave you a chaste kiss on the lips before getting up from the spot beside you on the sofa and moving to the kitchen to make your coffee for the morning. Tommy wasn’t able to wipe the smile off his face as he thought about how wet you’d be all day thanks to him. Maybe you would give in quicker than he thought.

. . .

The next time was a few days after when he informed you that Joel invited the two of you to his home with Ellie for dinner, which you were elated about. Maybe if you were with the company of his brother, Tommy might actually calm down. You were beginning to get agitated with your lack of orgasm in the past couple of days, Tommy was the biggest tease and you didn’t know how long you could hold on.

You figured that he was surely finished with whatever game he was playing.

Well, that was what you thought until you arrived home and moved straight to your shared bedroom to get ready, and out waltzed Tommy in nothing but a towel wrapped around his toned torso. You froze because of course you did, he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

The muscles in his arms flexed as he brushed his teeth but your eyes fixated on his hands, you wondered what he would do with them if you rode him. If he would run them through your hair and pull on the ends so he could leave purple marks on the soft skin of your neck. Or if he would wrap his hands around your neck, taking the air straight out of your lungs.

His hair was still wet, beads of water dripped from his curls onto his bronzed shoulders. The faint remnants of how close you got to getting him the way you wanted only a few days ago. Red scratches lavished his olive skin like an artist's signature on a painting. A sense of pride washed over you with the thought of him taking his shirt off during the hot days in Jackson, how he loved the idea of everyone knowing you were his and vice versa.

You were so busy admiring the man in front of you that you didn’t even realise his eyes on you. When Tommy offered you a wide smile you quickly adverted your gaze, pretending your eyes weren’t just greedily glued to the raven hair path that stopped at the top of his towel. Your cheeks reddened as you turned to get changed, ignoring the pulsating yearning feeling you had to take him right here. Dinner be damned!

Tommy knew that his plan was working from the way you always avoided his gaze when he’d catch you watching him. He was driving you crazy and he knew it, he loved catching you in the act. How flustered and embarrassed you’d get. You wanted him just as much as he needed you.

He had you exactly where he wanted you.

Tommy couldn’t for the life of him, stop thinking about you. His teeth pressed against his knuckles, his eyes would glance back at you as you would speak. His usually soft caramel eyes were nearly black as he undressed you with his eyes. Those devilish denim shorts that were driving him wild, he wanted your thighs wrapped around his waist as he drilled into you. Fuck he needed his hands on you.

You jumped the second Tommy’s hand reached over to graze along the soft skin of your thigh, the two of you sitting beside each other at Joel’s home. Surely he wasn’t going to try anything with his brother and Eillie in the same room? His thumb kneaded your skin as he kept his eyes on Joel, the two of them engrossed in conversation.

You tried to ignore the arousal that was pooling in your underwear, his rough fingers danced dangerously close against the end of your shorts. Silently, you cursed the hot weather for giving your boyfriend the upper hand. Without warning he nonchalantly extended his arm so his pinky grazed against the soft fabric of your underwear.

With a shocked gasp you turned to face him, with eyebrows raised you stared at him I’m disbelief. Tommy only smiled in return as he knocked down the last of his whiskey, sending a wink your way.

‘Oh two could play that game’ You thought to yourself as you stood up, excusing yourself and making your way to the bathroom. You had an idea up your sleeve, for the perfect payback for teasing you all week.

Now it was his turn.

“Y’alright baby?” Tommy teased in your ear as you took your seat beside him, thinking he was getting you all roused up.

Little did he know.

Joel had called Ellie to help him with dessert, this was the perfect time for you to get your revenge. You returned him with an smile, nodding innocently has you placed your hand in his.

Tommy almost felt bad for teasing you all week, especially with small intimate moments like this. When you were happy with something so small, finding comfort just having his larger hands envelope yours. Key word being ‘almost’, moving your hand into your lap Tommy looked down to see what you left in his palm.

Your fucken underwear.

Quickly he stuffed the thin material into his pockets as he covered the smirk off his face with his hand. He was going to get you back for that one.

Dinner couldn’t have finished quicker, the two of you swiftly say your goodbyes to both Joel and Ellie before making your way home in the dark. Your hand instinctively reached out for Tommy’s, which he took before pulling you into his chest. “Pretty good trick you pulled in there.” He mumbled into your hair, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You feigned ignorance, enjoying how the roles were reversed, now it was you that was driving Tommy insane.

As soon as the two of you were in the warm confides of your home Tommy's mouth latched onto yours, pushing till your back came into contact with the wall. You returned him the same amount of desperation, a whole week you had been waiting—you didn’t want to wait any longer. Both of your tongues fought for dominance as you groaned back into him.

“You’re going to be the death of me, women.” Tommy groaned against your mouth, his hot breath fanned against your mouth. “Could say the same for you, y’don’t think I know what you're up to?” You gasped in between touch-starved kisses, it felt like you had been waiting since forever for this moment.

“What was it you were sayin’ the other day to Louise? Telling your friend your dirty little secrets but not your boyfriend.” He tsked, shaking his head as his hands cupped your cheek, almost studying your face to see your reaction. “You heard that?” Your voice jumped, you knew you shouldn’t care. But a part of you worried with the thought of your boyfriend knowing your sexual desires.

“Yeah, n’here I thought you were all innocent, keeping dirty secrets from me.” Instantly you felt your cheeks redden in embarrassment, Tommy actually heard you that night and your drunken rambles. “I–I didn’t–” You stuttered but Tommy quickly shushed you, “I didn’t say it was a bad thing darlin’.” His Texan accent sends chills down your spine.

“Stop talking.” You breathed against his mouth, silencing him by sliding your tongue back into his. “You’ve been teasing me all week, I think it’s only fair if I get what I want.” The fingers you laced through his hair tugged just enough on his curls, a surprised gasp fell from his lips. “Yes ma'am.” Tommy drawled, feeling the blood rushing down in between his legs. Even though he hadn’t yet admit it to you, he loved it when you took control. Since he heard about your secret desire, he couldn’t stop thinking about you riding him and now it was finally happening. He felt like the luckiest man on earth,

Tommy dropped down onto the sofa, shimmying his jeans off in anticipation. His cock springing to life, your eyes instantly glued to the angry red tip that glistened under the light. Standing in front of him you made quick work throwing off your shorts and leaping onto Tommy’s lap. You wasted no time lining yourself up and slowly inching yourself down his thick shaft, a moan falling from your lips as you stretched around his cock.

Your cunt swallowed him eagerly as you started to rock your hips, his cock hitting all the right places. Once you had eventually adjusted to his size you picked up your pace, occasionally lifting your hip to then slide back down to his pelvis. “O-oh shit baby.” Tommy let out a shuddered breath as his head fell back onto the sofa. You felt a sense of pride, seeing how quickly you could render him speechless.

As you grinded into him the familiar arousal began pooling in the pit of your stomach. Tommy teased you all week, getting you so close to climax without you actually orgasming— you weren’t going to last long. And by the gasping mess that was Tommy, you knew he wasn’t going to as well.

Tommy's hands then clasped onto the soft flesh of your hips, you already knew his death grip was going to leave marks—Tommy was a sucker for letting everyone know who belonged to.

Suddenly you were lifted up, only to be slammed back down at a bruising pace. A loud slapping sounds echoes in the room as your thighs collide with his hips, your mouth fell open as you felt his cock hit the top of your cervix.

“Shit Tommy—" you mewled into Tommy's shoulders as you used your momentum to bounce on top of him. You clenched your eyes shut only being able to focus on how perfectly Tommy filled you up, feeling your orgasm fast approaching. “M’gonna come!” You whined as your body trembled, the tight knot in your stomach finally releasing as your orgasm washed over you.

“Oh fuck yeah baby—“ Tommy groaned into you as his dick twitched inside you, with his fingers still dug into your skin he sunk you back down with a bruising force. The two of you caught your breath in each other’s embrace, your hip still twitching as you felt him coating your walls. Neither one of you dared to move. “Holy shit.” You sighed out of breath, slight amusement in your voice.

“Baby, you gotta promise me to do that more often.”

[planetpiastri]

💝 also also how about "[ company ] to hang out with them when neither have a date for the night" from the valentine's prompts list with bob hehehe -allie

allie i might have went a little crazy here i rewrote this like 3 times bc im indecisive teehee anyways enjoy beloved<3 @spideystevie | [wc - 1.5k] | join my prompt party!

“Are you serious?” you tried to keep the annoyance out of your tone, but a fair bit seeped in anyways. “We’ve had this planned for months, Nat.”

“I know, I know. I’m really sorry.” Your best friend’s voice crackled through the phone. “Believe me, I wish this was something I could get out of. But this is the first time her parents have asked to meet me. That’s a big deal. And it’s the only night that works for them. I’m so, so, so sorry, and I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

You shifted, pushing off the kitchen counter and turning to rest your elbows against the marble. You traced your finger along the grout and ceded, “I get it. It sucks and I’m annoyed, but I get it.” You sighed, rubbing at the crease between your eyebrows. “What’s another Valentine’s Day on my couch, right? I’ve had worse.”

Natasha was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “I’m really sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. It’s fine. Go have fun.”

“You sure?”

“Natasha.”

“Okay. Love you. I’ll text you later.”

“Okay.”

Natasha hung up with a faint beep and you let your phone fall loudly out of your hand, where it clattered to the counter—unharmed. You dropped your head into your hands and muffled a groan with the heel of your palm, digging your nails into your scalp before shaking yourself and straightening up again. You pocketed your phone and came around the corner, leaving the kitchen and re-entering the living room.

It was pathetic to look at now. You’d decorated it with the intent to host a whole slew of your friends for a ‘palentine’s party,’ but one by one they’d bailed on you. Now it was just you and Bob Floyd in your apartment, waiting for a Natasha Trace that wouldn’t be coming.

When Bob saw you, he sat up straighter on the couch. He always sat so rigidly when he came over, like he was scared he’d mess up your cushions just by relaxing on them. You probably shouldn’t have found it as endearing as you did, but oh well. There were a lot of things Bob did that you probably shouldn’t have found as endearing as you did.

“She’s not coming, is she?” Bob asked, his wide blue eyes following your movement as you wound your way around the coffee table towards the far end of the couch. You threw yourself down with a tired sigh and blew a raspberry, shaking your head. Bob winced. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s whatever,” you said. “I should have known better than to try and make group plans on Valentine’s Day.”

“What now?” he asked, his fingers digging into the folds of his jeans at his knees.

You shrugged as best you could in your horizontal position. “I don’t know. Put on a movie, I guess. Eat a bunch of this chocolate. Drink a bunch of this wine. Procrastinate cleaning everything up.” You flopped your head to the side so that you could look at him and smile wearily. “I know you probably had fun plans with that girl—the one from the bookstore. Go on, get out of here.” You dropped your voice to a teasing whisper. “Save yourself.”

Bob just scrunched up his nose and shook his head.

Surprised, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows. “What—is she busy?”

He looked away from you then, pushing up his glasses and coughing into his fist awkwardly. “No,” he said, his voice sounding weird. “No, she’s, uh—it’s not gonna work out, I think. I haven’t heard from her in a while. And I haven’t reached out to her, either,” he added hastily.

You pushed out your bottom lip, sitting up fully and reaching for one of the bottles of red wine you’d put out on the coffee table. “Aw. I’m sorry to hear that. She sounded nice.”

Bob shrugged, still not looking at you.

“Well,” you said, pulling the cork out of the bottle with a loud pop, “if you don’t have anything to do, I guess you could stay here. God knows I won’t be going anywhere. But you don’t have to.”

“No,” he said quickly, “that sounds—um—that sounds nice. I’d love to. As long as it’s no hassle.”

“No hassle at all.” You smiled to yourself, pouring two glasses of wine and pushing one across the table to him before taking a long drink of yours. Then you pulled open the heart-shaped box of chocolates and plopped it on the sofa between the two of you before turning on the tv and starting to scroll through your movie options.

“You know, you’re allowed to relax,” you said as you reclined back onto the cushions, noticing the way Bob was still sitting so stiffly on the far side.

He laughed a little nervously. “Right. Sorry.” You watched as he awkwardly shimmied out of his coat and draped it over the back of the couch. He settled deeper into the cushions, his eyes trained on the tv screen, absently swirling the wine in his glass.

Your cheeks felt warm as you turned back to the tv. You were oddly touched that Bob wanted to stay and keep you company on your failed Valentine’s Day evening. Clearing your throat, you said, “So what are you in the mood for?”

“Anything’s fine,” he said quietly, but at that exact moment you scrolled past When Harry Met Sally and he gasped softly. 

“I shoulda known you’d love a classic friends-to-lovers,” you chuckled, hitting play. 

When you glanced sideways at him, he was blushing. The opening titles reflected off of his glasses, making his expression hard to read. Embarrassment suddenly flooded you. Why the hell had you said that? 

You turned sharply back to face the screen, determined to only focus on the movie playing.

Had you ever thought of Bob like that? Of course you had. It was hard not to. He was so kind and considerate and endearing and chivalrous. But he was one of Natasha’s closest friends, so by extension, he was one of your closest friends. You weren’t eager to mess that up with things like your inability to distinguish basic kindness from flirting.

The time ticked by, and you kept refilling your wine glass, even if Bob stopped after his second. Pretty soon the box of chocolates was on your lap instead of the cushions, and as you chased a caramel-filled one with a big gulp of wine, the word aphrodisiac sprung to mind.

You decided to ease off the chocolate and wine.

“Are you cold?” Bob asked about halfway through the movie, his voice causing you to jump.

“Um,” you said. The truth was you were cold, but you didn’t want to admit it. 

Unfortunately, Bob was incredibly perceptive. He tugged the blanket off the back of the couch, and you found yourself scooting closer to him almost without meaning to. You held your breath as you gently tucked yourself under his arm and the blanket came around both of you, followed by his arm landing loosely across your covered waist.

He was very warm. His shirt was very soft. He smelled very good. You could feel his heartbeat.

“Is this okay?” he breathed.

“Mm-hmm.”

You’d spent so much time fighting off any feelings you felt for Bob like that that you’d never considered that he might like you like that, too.

The movie pushed onwards as Harry and Sally’s friendship changed and fell apart and became something entirely new. You settled into Bob’s side, almost concerned by how comfortable it felt to cuddle with him on your couch. His arm on your waist was heavy and grounding, and his fingers absently moved across your leg, sending shivers across your whole body.

“…I love that after I spend a day with you I can still smell your perfume on my clothes…”

“Hey, Bob?” you whispered.

“…I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night…”

“Yeah?” he replied, just as quietly, like he was scared to ruin the moment. You thought you could relate to the feeling.

“…And it’s not because I’m lonely, and it’s not because it’s New Year’s…”

“Thanks for staying with me tonight,” you said.

“…I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody…”

“My pleasure,” he breathed, and his hand tightened on your leg. Your breath hitched, but then the pressure was gone again.

“…you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible!”

“I’m sorry about bookstore girl,” you said, even as the more sensible you that was still on the other side of the couch tried to wring your neck for bringing her up at all.

“You see, that is just like you, Harry. You say things like that and you make it impossible for me to hate you!”

“That’s okay,” he whispered. “I think she got tired of listening to me go on and on about you.”

You sat up and Bob turned to look at you, his eyebrows pinched in the middle and his mouth drawn into a tight line. He was scared, you realized. The thought almost made you want to laugh at how ridiculous it was.

“Oh,” you said dumbly. Then, again: “Oh.”

And as Harry and Sally fell into each other’s arms, you curled your fingers into Bob Floyd’s tee-shirt and kissed him for the first time.

[cherriiramen]

hihi cherrii !!! my best friend!! 💕💕💕💕

i was thinking about your jack napier art and i was curious, is it joker from the comics that you're into? or was it heath ledgers joker? :333 (or both teehee)

i'm wondering bc i just watched the joker on sunday (the one with joaquin pheonix((arthur fleck joker) and I DUNNOOO..... HE'S BEEN GIVING ME FEELINGS (and he reminds me a lot of your jack napier too 💕💕😌) SO THE THOUGHT POPPED INTO MY HEAD HEHEHE

HELLOOOOO MY FRIEND IM SORRY FOR THE DELAY!! 😪😪💞💞💞

I’m glad you asked!!

I actually love most forms of joker (except Jared Letto’s), they all have different aspects that add to his character, but of course there are some that made it to my favourites!

You got it!! My Jack Napier is a design of my own, but his personality is a mix of the Telltale Games Joker (heavily), Joaquin Pheonix’s Joker, The Batman (the series lmao), LEGO Batman’s joker, and Batman (red hood’s) Joker too >:3

i was planning to make a whole headcanons post for him, but since this has been laying in my drafts for a while, here you go!

[korrasamibottles]

I just reread the space between heartbeats and I suddenly need you to tell me everything about it! What gave you the idea for all the story beats and details???

Thank you so much for asking (and for re-reading?? Such an amazing compliment wow)!! I'm still completely floored by how sweet everyone has been about this fic....I wrote it from the heart so the positivity really means a lot😭 Also sorry this got so long oh my god lol.

Before I even started writing, I knew I wanted to come at the whole thing from Mako's perspective. He's such a complicated and fascinating character to me, and there's so much potential to explore how the trauma of witnessing his parents' murder and the depersonalization of having to be brother-father-protector-provider to a younger sibling while also still a child led to him being SO detached from his own wants and needs and feelings, and so used to thinking of himself as a tool rather than a person, that if somebody asked him point blank what he wanted his head would pop.

But maybe...after spending a lot of time around somebody who isn't afraid to openly want things and ask for them....Mako could start thinking about what HE wants, so that when somebody finally does ask him he's able to untangle his feelings enough to actually put them into words.....?

Mako's character has such a strong presence and I didn't want Wu to feel flat in comparison, or for it to seem like he was only there to further Mako's development, so I decided to give Wu the benefit of having the setting be all about him.

This also gave me an opening to show how Mako's influence could give Wu the push he needed to shake off the spoiled prince persona and become the more mature, compassionate man he always had the potential to be. We saw the beginnings of that in the show and in Ruins of the Empire, and I like to think they'll continue on that trajectory even though I'm not getting my hopes up for any wuko crumbs whatsoever in the Mako solo comic.

(Everyone already knows this because I never shut up about it, but what makes me so bonkers about wuko is the potential for them to bring out the best in each other. That kind of dynamic is fucking gold to me.)

Anyway. Once I had the POV and setting figured out, I had to give Mako a reason to be there, and I thought, well, he hasn't yet reached the point where he's able to admit he has feelings for Wu (even inside his own head) so the pretext of him deciding he had to keep Wu alive to protect the fragile democratization process felt right and seemed plausible.

The first two scenes came together from a few lines I poached from an unfinished korrasami wip....

"That's not–I'm not–we're just colleagues, Asami," he splutters convincingly.

"Yeah? So everyone at the precinct just hand-feeds each other moon peach slices in the morning, then? That's standard 'colleague' behavior?"

"Asami–"

"And right at the breakfast table," she whispers dramatically, shaking her head in mock disapproval and relishing how the blush has spread from his ears down his neck. "We all saw you practically purring into his hands, Mako. Like a damn octocat."

....and this bit of dialogue from the closet scene

“What kind of closet locks from the inside!?”

“You tell me! You grew up here!”

“Not in this closet!”

I turned the peach lines into a whole scene because I loved the idea of Wu being like "teehee I am getting him to try something new and fun" meanwhile Mako's like 3 seconds away from just snapping and sucking on Wu's fingers. Except it's rated T so. You know. Gotta be more subtle about it lol.

As for the closet dialogue....I'm a simple woman and I will never ever get tired of closet-themed jokes and accidents. My personal headcanon re: Wu's sexuality is that it was kind of like an open secret among the royal family. Like he'd flirt with women in public just to keep up appearances but really, everyone knew. Hence the "not in this closet!" line. To be clear, I don't think the royal family was ok with it, and I'm sure he suffered for it, but in this fic I positioned him further along in his own self-acceptance journey than Mako.

The next scene didn't unfold as easily, and I really, really struggled with it. Mako was a bit of a ticking time bomb by this point in the story–the tension had been rising for a while, and I knew it had to break eventually, but I wanted it to break in the right way.

I wrote several different versions, but every time the dialogue got away from me and it always ended the same way: with them getting into an actual argument and Mako storming out the door. And that was Not the vibe I was going for. I wanted more of an "oh fuck" moment rather than a "this guy is pissing me off and I have to get out of here" one. Mako has a tendency to get snappy in emotional situations, and that combined with him being an acts-of-service kind of person made the "it's my job to worry about you!" line finally click into place.

Deep down, Mako knows he's more than just a bodyguard to Wu, he knows how Wu feels about him, but he can't let himself really think about it. Because if he's more than his work, more than just a tool to be used, if Wu wants him around simply because he enjoys his company and not because Mako is providing a service, then that means Mako's entire sense of self is built on a lie. That's a terrifying realization, with or without the added element of internalized homophobia (and I had to add it. For maximum angst.)

I knew I wanted the fic to end with Mako realizing that the way he'd been operating simply wasn't healthy or sustainable, followed by a dramatic confession of feelings, but how to get there? Well why not invent a weird old bug woman. I thought a sort of grandmotherly figure might be somebody Mako would take seriously, and also I selfishly just wanted a woman in the story lol.

I honestly don't know where the ant spiral idea came from–maybe it's something I learned about as a kid that's been haunting the crevices of my brain for years. But it felt like an interesting way to symbolize how Mako was on a self-destructive path of repeating the same harmful behaviors over and over. If he kept depriving himself of meaningful connections, never stepped outside his comfort zone, continued avoiding learning how to process his emotions, and kept letting his fear and his pain decide what he was and wasn't allowed to want, he'd only keep inadvertently hurting himself and the people he cares about. That sort of thing. But he's stubborn, and needed to figure it out himself, so I let Qin Li give him the pieces (dare I say peaches?) so he could put it all together.

The final scene was written in its entirety at the auto shop, because apparently that's where my muse lives. Great place to write, can't recommend broken cars highly enough. Anyway, I wanted his eventual admission to feel like removing a giant splinter, which is to say: extremely painful and strained, but a huge relief once it's out. Difficult as it was, he needed to actually verbalize that shit not only for himself but also because it wouldn't have been fair for Wu to have to be in a relationship with somebody who couldn't even admit the feelings were real. And of course I had to have Wu jump into his arms at some point. Couldn't resist :)

One other thing I just thought about (and can't figure where to put it in this post, so I guess I'll just stick it here) is that I had fun giving both of them weird little quirks. Like Mako being an anxious/compulsive skin picker and Wu being fidgety and refusing to wear his glasses.

OH YEAH ONE MORE THING. Mako yanking on the doorknob in the closet was 100% a euphemism. For something.

[satorisoup]

hi Lene!! i was rewatching s4 of haikyuu and i was cracking up at how bokuto was losing his crap over not playing in the main arena lolllll.

then a thought popped into my head, "bokuto is definitely struggling with youngest sibling syndrome." (just a hc of course!) (i think i made that up bc i have a little brother who is the youngest of four kids, me being the oldest) but i really started thinking about this because he does have two older sisters. bokuto is the baby :3

he's just like "wut..? no main stage :(( ?"

MAYA STAWP… I LOVE YOU FOR THIS !!! oh my gosh i know, he’s so silly i CAN’T T^T help he literally is the exact definition of youngest sibling syndrome !! he just wants the spotlight all the time !!!

coming from the youngest of my family i can agree he’s definitely so drama, im giggling ! WHEN HE STARTED PRACTICALLY CRYING TO HIS TEAM “i just… wanted to play in the main arena too !” HE’S SO FUNNY. his little °-° face oh my goodness!! i wish we could’ve seen his sisters once, atleast in the manga or something because i just KNOW they’re super pretty </3 furudate robbed us !!

thank you so much for sending this in teehee it really gave me a good giggle ily !! bokuto loml i could talk about him for days <3

[thermodynamic-comedian]

You asked for characters to be sent. So i give you Nikola orsinov. Now tell the people about Nikola orsinov.

teehee

1. sexuality headcanon: how could she have any sexuality? she's plastic! /ref

2. otp: spiraldance. nikola x helen. just really cute

3. brotp: has anyone ever written about her and annabelle cane as friends bc i could see it

4. notp: none, really. i keep an open mind

5. first headcanon that pops into my head: i have this headcanon about basically every fear but i think the stranger (and, by extension, nikola) feels like it holds at least some claim over jonah magnus. mostly because of the watcher's crown formation (how the eye feeds all other fears) but also because @jonahmagnus said so and i believe my mutuals on all topics

6. favourite line from this character: "i did use all the bits."

7. one way in which i relate to this character: sometimes i too am weird and offputting

8. thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character: nothing really

9. cinnamon roll or problematic fave?: definitely more cinnamon roll. i don't think there's any dedicated nikola haters out there, even though she's technically an antagonist

[mothxmoons]

So I may or may not have gotten a new crush on a new character, teehee~ It got me thinking: A drabble of how self-aware (Re5 or Dbd version; up to you) Wesker would react to us forgetting about him momentarily and showering our new crush in attention. And how would he react when we eventually remember he exists.

I'm like imagining him popping out the tv and just bickering and yelling, and it's just too funny and cute seeing WEEEESSSSKEEERRR super jealous :3

(For context, the character is Junker Queen from Overwatch 2, she's really cool!)

Oh I’ve playing overwatch since like 2017, I love the new heroes, she was the character I played the most in the beta for ow2!!

He is definitely miffed, you’re ogling someone other than him? Ow, his ego. He’s sentient! He can hear you! Also what makes her so special? Is it her accent? Her hair? Was it how she handled herself or how versatile her kit was? Was it how she was a queen? Or maybe how she carried herself?

Well..yeah it was all the above, she’s just incredible and insanely strong, and you were intent on learning her. He would watch how you would tear down enemies from the tv (that you leave on for him), cheer with delight when you got play of the game, and even squeal over her voicelines.

Needless to say…he was jealous. So when you were in queue waiting for a match, he stepped through the screen and came up behind you. Grabbed your wrist from your mouse, exited the queue, closed the game, picked you up and placed in front of the tv with him sitting behind you, arms wrapped around you.

“I believe it’s my turn for some attention.” He grumbled into your head.

Ah. What a softie.