#(I literally do not make the rules. I would have made different rules if I could be in charge of my body's response to things.)

[kikyoupdates]

For Tomorrow's Sake ⭑˚💫⭑ 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠 𝑢𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑛

various!jjk x f!reader

reverse harem, isekai, jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader, slowburn

You never believed reincarnation was possible, least of all in the fictional world of Jujutsu Kaisen. However, from the moment you meet Gojo Satoru, it’s impossible to deny. Whether it’s a miracle or some kind of curse, you find yourself growing up alongside the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Unfortunately, you know what the future holds in store. You know exactly what kind of tragedies await. Perhaps that’s why you were brought into this world. If it means saving people from a gruesome fate, you’ll gladly suffer in their place. You’ll do whatever it takes. All for the sake of a better tomorrow.

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At scarcely thirteen years of age, you’ve become an aunt. 

It sounds a bit ridiculous, and even though you’re not technically related to Toji, you’re his little sister in spirit. Now, your big brother has a child. Which makes you an aunt. No matter how much anyone tries to convince you otherwise. 

“You’re too young to be an aunt,” Satoru frowns. “We’re just teenagers.” 

“So? There’s no rule that says teenagers can’t be aunts or uncles. It’s all about perspective, Satoru.” 

You’re rocking Megumi in your arms as he looks up at you with big, beautiful eyes. You pause for a moment, then plant a kiss to his pudgy cheek. Megumi continues staring at you with a mixture of confusion and awe. You kiss him again, and this time, he giggles.

Satoru really hates that he’s getting jealous of a literal baby right now. 

“He has a weird face,” Satoru rudely declares. 

“No, he doesn’t,” you frown. “He has a cute face.” 

“It looks more weird than cute to me. Also, he’s stinky all the time. What’s wrong with you, huh? Stinker.” 

Satoru proceeds to lightly jab his finger against Megumi’s forehead, accentuating his words with a firm motion. Megumi blinks several times, no doubt trying to process what just happened. He doesn’t really react much, though. In fact, after staring at Satoru for a few seconds, he disinterestedly turns away, much more in favor of looking at you. 

Needless to say, Satoru’s ego doesn’t handle it well. 

“Did you see that?” he exclaims. “The little stinker just scoffed at me!” 

“Babies can’t scoff, Satoru.” You roll your eyes at him. “And stop calling him that. He’s not stinky. He smells nice. Newborn babies always have a nice smell. It’s comforting and makes you want to keep holding them forever and ever.” 

“He smells nice right now,” Satoru counters. “I bet in about ten minutes he’s gonna poop himself again. And whenever he does that, it really, really stinks. It’s even more disgusting than your cooking, which I didn’t think was possible.” 

“All babies poop themselves. It’s not like you were an exception,” you sigh.

The same applies for you too, of course, although your case is slightly different. After all, you weren’t really a baby when you awakened in this world. You had the knowledge and mental awareness of a teenager. Which made it all the more humiliating whenever people had to change your diapers. But for the sake of your sanity, you’re doing your best not to think about it anymore. 

“Be nice to baby Megumi,” you say, proudly holding him up in the air, like Simba. “Look at him. Isn’t he such a sweetheart? Since I’m the cool aunt, I’ll let you be the cool uncle, okay? And everyone likes the cool aunt and uncle.” 

Satoru blinks. “You’re the aunt, and I’m the uncle? But that makes it sound like…” 

…like we’re married. 

He doesn’t say that last part out loud, but the realization makes his cheeks redden. It also makes him grin smugly, when he thinks of how furious stupid Naoya would be. Which is definitely an added bonus. 

“Fine,” Satoru relents. He pokes Megumi on the forehead again, but this time, he’s smiling. “I guess it’s not his fault that he’s stinky sometimes. And he barely ever cries, which is nice. He’s a pretty good baby, all things considered. Also, I am really cool, so it makes sense I’d be the cool uncle.” 

“Of course,” you grin. “You’re super cool, Satoru. He’s definitely going to love you. Ah, but not as much as he’s going to love me. Don’t feel discouraged when I end up being his favorite, okay?” 

“I’m pretty sure that I’m going to be his favorite.” 

“Hm, I don’t think so. He’ll still love you a lot, but he’s also going to think you’re childish and annoying.” 

“Huh? Now I know you’re just making things up!” 

You and Satoru proceed to fight for the title of coolest aunt-slash-uncle, and Megumi merely sucks on his thumb, unbothered, as he watches the spectacle unfold. 

Eventually, an adult has to be called. 

Well, not really. Nobody actually called him, but you and Satoru were being so disruptive that he showed up anyway. Toji steps into the room with an irritable expression—he was just taking a nap alongside Fushiguro—only to find you and Satoru playing tug-of-war with his son (figuratively speaking, of course). 

“You’re so loud,” he grumbles. “Leave Megumi alone. He should be sleeping. It’s quiet time right now. Quiet time means everyone shuts up and closes their eyes, whether they like it or not.” 

Satoru leans closer to whisper in your ear. “Quiet time in the middle of the day? He really is an old man. He’s basically a grandpa already.” 

“We waited, but Megumi wouldn’t fall asleep,” you say. “He kept looking at us and fussing. I think he needed to tire himself out a bit more. But I’m sorry. We’ll try not to be so loud anymore so that you can get some rest.” 

“It’s too late for that,” Toji sighs. “I’m already awake.” 

He stands there for a few seconds, rubbing the fog out of his eyes, then he walks up to you and gently takes Megumi into his arms. Almost immediately, his expression shifts. The sternness of his gaze dissolves, giving way to warmth and affection. Love. 

Toji may try to act macho and hide it, but just by looking at him, it’s obvious how much he adores his son. 

“You’ll have to forgive them, Megumi,” he mumbles, brushing his finger across the baby boy’s cheek. “They’re both rather immature. Well, more so one of them than the other, but still. Try not to let their stupidity rub off on you.” 

Satoru shakes his head. “That’s not very nice. It isn’t [Name]’s fault she doesn’t have any common sense.” 

“Uh, he was clearly referring to you.” 

“No way. I’m cool and mature,” Satoru proudly states, and he even pushes up his sunglasses for emphasis, as if that’s supposed to prove something. 

These days, Toji looks happier than ever. And why wouldn’t he be? His life finally has purpose. He has a loving wife, a healthy, beautiful son, and as much as he likes to complain, you and Satoru mean a lot to him, too. Naoya as well. 

Toji finally has a full life. Being acknowledged by jujutsu society no longer means anything to him, because he’s found something much better. Something irreplaceable. The bond known as family. 

Everyone is happy. Or at least, everyone should be happy. 

But as always, you are burdened by your knowledge of the future. 

Fushiguro will die. According to canon, at least. Toji had a child with her—Megumi—but sometime after Megumi’s birth, Fushiguro passed away, and Toji later remarried Tsumiki’s mother. That marriage didn’t last very long, most likely because he was still mourning the loss of Megumi’s mother and loved her too much to replace her with anyone else. He had mostly lost his will to live by that point. It was probably a marriage of convenience and obligation. Toji rarely even came home. Ultimately, Tsumiki’s mother walked out and left both Megumi and Tsumiki behind. Shortly thereafter, Toji died at Satoru’s hands, and in his final moments, he entrusted Satoru with the task of looking after his son.

That’s how things are supposed to go. But of course, certain events can’t possibly happen anymore. Toji isn’t the Sorcerer Killer in this life, which means he won’t assassinate Riko, nor will he and Satoru fight each other to the death. You’ve successfully brought them together and helped them form a kinship, but even so, the future is far from perfect. There’s only so much you can change. And when it comes to Fushiguro, you honestly don’t know where to start. 

You don’t have the slightest clue how Fushiguro is supposed to die, and that’s what frightens you the most. The lack of information. Not knowing what to prepare for. Does she end up in some kind of accident? Does she get attacked one day when Toji’s not around? The possibilities are endless, and because of that, you’re more terrified than ever. You don’t know how you’re supposed to fix this. 

All you know is that you have to fix it. No matter what it takes. 

The most logical course of action is ensuring that Toji is always there to protect his wife. You insist that it’s too dangerous to leave her alone for extended periods of time. Instead of him coming your way to train you, you agree to take a longer trip and meet him at a park not far from their shared apartment. You always beg Toji to install a fancy security system, which is expensive as hell, but a small price to pay in the long run. 

“We don’t have to worry about break-ins,” he snorts. “My senses are incredibly sharp. I’ll react the second anyone dares to try anything. Why do I need to waste my money when I’m more than enough to handle some petty criminals?” 

“It’s for when you’re not around. Even if you’re only gone for thirty minutes. Those alarms scare criminals off, because your neighbors will hear and the cops will be called. Please,” you say, desperately tugging on his sleeve. “This is important. Think of your family. You need to do everything possible to make sure they’re always safe.”

Even though Toji seems to think that he’s strong enough to handle any intruder—and of course, he’s right—he’s slowly starting to see things in a new light. Ever since he got married and had a child, he’s become more mature. More clear-headed. More willing to put others’ needs before his own.  

And so, he relents. 

He buys all the security equipment one family could ever need, and you have to admit, it brings you some relief. 

Unfortunately, your relief doesn’t last very long. Realistically, Fushiguro probably didn’t die through an apartment break-in. A freak accident is more likely. A train crash or something like that. If she happens to take public transport one day, on her own. But that also isn’t very likely, because she’s a new mother. She spends virtually every waking moment by Megumi’s side. If she got caught up in a large-scale accident like that, then surely, Megumi would have too. 

Is it possible that… she got attacked by a cursed spirit? 

You doubt it. You seriously doubt it. Again, she would probably have had Megumi with her at the time. Or she would’ve been with Toji—who could easily have handled any kind of curse. Including special-grade. 

Still, the fact remains that Fushiguro is a civilian. She has no working knowledge of the world of jujutsu sorcerers. She doesn’t even know cursed spirits exist, let alone can she see them for themself. 

You know it’s unlikely that’s how she died, but in the interest of covering all your bases and ensuring her safety, you feel like there’s simply no other choice. 

She needs to know. 

“...what?” 

Toji gapes at you, convinced he must have heard wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s given you an incredulous look, but this time, he seriously thinks you’ve gone off the rails. 

“Tell your wife about cursed spirits,” you say. “And how dangerous they are. She needs to know what to look out for. If she’s better aware of her surroundings, then she’ll be able to react in time if something ever happens.” 

“I’ll protect her,” Toji merely shrugs. “And Megumi too, of course. Do you really think a dangerous curse could go anywhere near me without being detected?” 

“I know. But it’s just like with the security system. This is for when you’re not around. There are so many things that could go wrong. In the blink of an eye.” 

Toji knits his brows together. “What’s wrong with you? I feel like you’ve been unusually neurotic lately. You never used to stress yourself out worrying about all these things. Are you seriously doubting my ability to protect my own family?”

“If you don’t tell her, then I will,” you state firmly. 

Toji scowls. He looks annoyed at the mere suggestion. Apart from when he trains you to use cursed tools, he’s left the world of jujutsu sorcery behind. It’s a blight on his past. A blemish, a dark period that he’d rather not think of, and you can understand why he wouldn’t want his wife to have anything to do with it either. But as much as you don’t want to cause him any discomfort, you don’t have the luxury of being complacent. You still have no idea how Fusghiuro is supposed to die—and you sure as hell aren’t going to take any chances. 

“She needs to know, Toji. It’s for her own good.” 

Toji hates revisiting his past. He hates even thinking about the miserable life he led while he was still a broken man living in the Zen’in Clan. Telling his wife about this almost feels like an admission of his own weakness. When he thinks about how much he used to care about all those assholes, it’s honestly pitiful. He’s ashamed that he wasted so much of his time and energy on them. Especially now that he knows what’s actually important in life. 

But because he cares about you, and because he truly values what you have to say, once again, he relents. 

“...cursed spirits?” 

Fushiguro blinks, in visible disbelief. She’s in the middle of getting a crash course on cursed, cursed energy, jujutsu sorcerers, and everything in between. You can’t fault her for looking completely taken aback. She’s just an ordinary civilian. This must all sound like utter nonsense. 

“[Name] is concerned about your safety,” Toji sighs. “She wanted you to know what to look out for, in case you ever find yourself in a dangerous position. That will never happen, though. I can easily protect you and Megumi from any cursed spirit out there. They would be foolish to even try.” 

“This is just so… strange,” Fushiguro mumbles. 

Talk about the understatement of the century. 

“They basically look like monsters,” you explain, and you proceed to lift up a piece of paper you brought with you for this very occasion. You prepared a nice drawing beforehand, as a reference. “Look. This is just one example of how they might appear. They stand out quite a lot. If you ever gain the ability to see them, you’ll know right away. That’s why you have to stay close to Toji pretty much all the time, alright? He’s really strong. As long as you’re with him, you’ll be safe.” 

Fushiguro’s face is completely pale. She’s terrified, the poor thing, but it’s better that she knows about this, rather than being ignorant to the dangers of the world. It’s also a good thing that she’s so scared. It’ll discourage her from going off on her own. Ordinary people normally only gain the ability to see curses when their lives are already at risk, but maybe the fear will induce a change in her brain. 

You give Fushiguro a bit of time to process what she just heard. Fortunately, she’s the kind of person who knows how to keep a level head. She’s calm, patient, and mindful. Rather than panicking, she allows your words to fully sink in. 

Then, she frowns. 

“So, all of you are jujutsu sorcerers?” she affirms. “You all risk your lives to fight these cursed spirits? Isn’t it… scary?” 

“I’m the strongest sorcerer in the whole world,” Satoru casually brags. “So, if I’m around, then you definitely don’t have anything to worry about. I’m so strong that weak curses won’t even go anywhere near me. Most cursed spirits aren’t usually smart, but even they know to stay away. For their own good.” 

“You’re nothing special,” Toji scowls. 

“Then why don’t we fight to see who wins? But just a warning: be prepared to be humiliated in front of your wife.” 

They start bickering, of course, so you take this opportunity to scoot in closer to Fushiguro and gently pat her on the shoulder. 

“Don’t worry,” you reassure. “The odds of encountering a dangerous cursed spirit aren’t high, and if you’re with Toji, you’ll be fine. I’m sorry for scaring you with all this stuff. I know it’s probably really overwhelming. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t completely in the dark. I just want you to be safe. I need you to be safe.” 

You give her a big hug, and even though you try your best to hide it, she can probably feel the way your body trembles against hers. She must be able to sense your fear and self-doubt. Even though you should be the one comforting her right now. 

Fushiguro gently strokes your hair, smiling all the while. “Don’t apologize. I’m glad you told me about this. You’re right. It’s better that I’m aware of these things, for my own good—and Megumi’s, too. Thank you for looking after me, [Name]. You really do have such a kind, gentle soul.” 

She hugs you back. Her embrace is just as warm and soothing as ever. You feel like you could get lost in it forever. You want to get lost in it forever. You want her to be here forever. 

Oh, how badly you wish for this happiness to never end. 

“...and this is a cow. Cows go moo,” you explain, pointing to the illustration.

“Moo,” Megumi echoes. 

“Exactly! And this is a piggy. Piggies go oink, oink.” 

“Oink,” Megumi proudly vocalizes. 

“Amazing! You’re so, so smart, Megumi! And now, look at this little duck. The duck likes to go quack. He quacks and quacks, all day long.” 

“Quack, quack,” Megumi nods. He then brings his little palms together and excitedly claps his hands. “Quack! Quack, quack, quack!” 

Dear lord. Is it possible for someone to be too cute? Because you seriously think he’s cheating somehow. He’s putting all other babies to shame. Sorry Maki and Mai. They’re incredibly cute too, but Megumi is in a class of his own. 

“Good job, little stinker,” Satoru grins. “You’re learning fast, huh? Uncle Satoru is proud of you, and that’s pretty much the highest compliment you can get.” 

Megumi stares at Satoru for a few moments, but predictably enough, it doesn’t take long for him to turn away in disinterest. 

Satoru can’t help but gape as he watches Megumi impatiently tap you on the arm—a telltale sign that he wants you to pick him up and hold him in your lap. 

“Sorry, Satoru,” you muse. “I did tell you that I would be his favorite.” 

“This is why he’s a stinker,” Satoru sighs, taking his sunglasses off to wipe off the lenses. Megumi is only a few months old, and he shouldn’t be able to understand most of what Satoru is saying, but you swear you aren’t imagining how annoyed he looks all of a sudden. 

Apparently, some things just never change. 

“Quack, quack,” Megumi happily repeats again. He then starts aggressively slapping the picture book. “Oink! Moo!” 

“Okay, okay,” you chuckle. “Don’t worry. We can keep reading more about all the cute animals. Let’s see here… oh! Next up is an elephant. I’m pretty sure the elephant goes toot!” 

“Hey, that’s also the sound this little stinker makes when he’s about to poop himself,” Satoru laughs. 

Once again, Megumi looks incredibly annoyed. He even slams his hand down on the picture again—except this time, he’s sending a message. 

“Moooo,” Megumi mutters, narrowing his eyes in Satoru’s direction. You’re not sure exactly what he’s trying to say, but if he could speak full sentences, you’re willing to bet that would’ve been a rather merciless insult. 

Satoru flinches. “Seriously, what’s wrong with this kid? I swear he gets mad at me for no reason!” 

“He does have a reason,” Toji mutters from the dining room table. “It’s because you’re insufferable.” 

“No, I’m not! [Name] said I’m the cool uncle!” 

“I have no recollection of this,” you deny. 

“Huh?!” 

Fushiguro chuckles softly as she gathers up all the dirty dishes from the dinner you just ate. “Now, now. Let’s all be nice to each other. Thank you for reading to him, [Name]. Megumi really loves spending time with you.” 

“And I love spending time with him,” you beam, giving Megumi a quick peck on the cheek. 

Fushiguro offers you a warm, gentle smile. She carefully stacks the plates on top of each other, but regretfully, she doesn’t make it to the kitchen. 

Instead, the plates shatter to the ground. 

“O-Oh,” Fushiguro mumbles. She sways unsteadily on her feet, grabbing onto the table’s edge to anchor herself down. “I’m so… so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I lost all my strength for a second.” 

Toji abruptly stands up and makes his way towards her. “Are you alright?” 

“Yes, I’m fine,” she reassures. “I’m very sorry for the mess. I’ll clean it up right now, so just—” 

She doesn’t finish her sentence. Her eyes roll back into her skull, and without warning, her body crumples. If not for the fact that Toji reacted fast enough to catch her in his arms, she would surely have fallen and hit her head. 

Panic ensues. Toji is repeatedly calling out her name, but she’s practically unconscious and can’t form a response. Megumi doesn’t understand what’s happening, but his father’s outcries, along with the sound of the plates breaking, causes him to start sobbing on the spot. Even Satoru, who’s usually so confident and laidback, looks undeniably concerned. 

A dark, dreadful feeling sinks into the pit of your stomach. A good amount of time had passed, and so, foolishly, you began to let your guard down. You thought that maybe you’d taken all the necessary steps to ensure Fushiguro’s safety. But there was never any way to know with absolute certainty. Not when that’s the one fact about the future that so cruelly evades you. 

You know all too well what’s happening right now. You’ve finally pieced together, without a shadow of a doubt, how she died in canon. 

Illness. 

More chapters are available on Quotev, Ao3 and Wattpad !

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💫 main masterlist ♡ oneshot masterlist

[fingertipsmp3]

Also I feel like I have to say this but FUCK Toy Story 4. Awful movie, bad execution, poor excuse for a sequel.

[perihel1on]

really really funny to post a whole long well-thought-out thing about how i no longer identify as plural then immediately get into a week long argument with myself(s) about whether that's true

[crossbackpoke-check]

find a blorbo (nhl tag game)

RULES: Go through the roster of each NHL team and find at least one player that you can root for.

tagged by @bondedpairs!! when i say too many teams to count and here for the narrative um. i may not have lied. this is not an extensive list of my blorbos but in order to make it not ten thousand years long i made up the rule that i had to do it straight from memory :)

anaheim ducks: as evidenced by recent events i DO like mason mctavish and trevor zegras but i have to honor laura and mention troy terry and beloved goalie gibbie*

boston bruins: oh for sure brad marchand… can i say patrice? one of the charlies got traded but i think mcavoy is still there because gryz is gone, brandon carlo is there still i think

buffalo sabres: cozens & thompson, owen power, rasmus dahlin, ukko pekka luukkonen

calgary flames: is chris tanev still here? is markstrom still here?? noah hanifin?? as a last resort i’ll say blasty

carolina hurricanes: aho & jarvy & teuvo teravainen & brent burns is still playing maybe? i know sepe got traded

chicago hockey: the bedsy narrative is compelling but ANDREAS ATHANASIOU MY BELOVED reunited with tyler bertuzzi… that’s the real story. also i like foligno

colorado avalanche: gabe landeskog, whatever ross colton & miles wood have going on, natemac + jo, mikko

columbus blue jackets: have long been on the merzlikins train, have been swayed to the darkside of umich boys (brindley, kent johnson, fantilli, blankenburg who is now on nsh)

dallas stars: seggy! mush! roope + miro and otter and robo and wyjo (rip ty dellandrea) and harls! etc.

detroit red wings: MOST players. dilly larks, moritz seider, jv, raymond, rasmussen, kitty, lyon, etc except for k*ne

edmonton oilers: mcdrai, ofc. nugent-hopkins, nursey, rip vinny & skinny

florida panthers: tkachuk, reinhardt, sasha barkov, verhaeghe (is there still?)

los angeles kings: adrian kempe… kevin fiala… danault… quinton byfield & alex turcotte

minnesota wild: kirill, marat, fleury, brodes, fabes, boldy, moose, middsy, spurge… god’s perfect idiots

montreal canadiens: going out on a limb here to say martin st. louis but also xhekaj (both), slafkovský, suzuki, my austrian reinbacher, yes fine cole caufield

nashville predators: MOST BEAUTIFUL D PAIR IN THE WORLD GRADY SKJEI AND ROMAN JOSI!! juuse, evangelista, isn’t stamkos there and also someone else who absolutely should not be

new jersey devils: nico… tuna (tatar), dawson mercer, siegenthaler, dougie hamilton, yes the hugheses whatever

new york islanders: barzy, zeeker & marty, anders lee, noah dobson lol

new york rangers: mika & chris, lafrenière & k’andre, shesterkin

philadelphia flyers: frosty & beezer and tk and sanny and the new baby michkov and coots and scooty loots and foerster etc etc. you know the Guys

pittsburgh penguins: the two headed monster but also compelled by rutger mcgroarty, and kevin hayes was there!!!

ottawa senators: timmy stü & brady! josh norris! the evolution of shane pinto! ullmark now and brännström and claude giroux and chabot

san jose sharks: ekky, thrun, mario, borde, logan couture, shakir, that other vaguely blond rookie

seattle kraken: brandon tanev, andre burakovsky! grubauer & d’accord also

st. louis blues: jordan kyrou, nathan walker (is still there?), rob thomas? is parayako still there?

tampa bay lightning: hedman, point, they dumped so many guys after the cup run… is kucherov still there or is he in nashville?? anthony cirelli (notable for being made out with by pat maroon)

toronto maple leafs: mitch, jt, willy, alex nylander, kniesy, dewar, et

utah hockey: crouse, keller, tuba

vancouver canucks: quinn, brock, petey, jt, garly, höggy, i want to say dakota johnson, elias lindholm?

vegas golden knights: brandon montour is here now… alex pietrangelo, so sorry to one i can’t remember who loves the lions it will come back to me

washington capitals: full of love and stupidity. oshie, nicke/ovi, pierre-luc dubois, dowd, vrána, milano

winnipeg jets: adam lowry!! josh morissey and kc and morgan barron, also vladdy my beloved

tagging @stillfertile + @colap1nto + @songsandswords + @moregraceful if they haven’t done it yet, i know they follow at least a couple teams. if anybody else wants to play i love adopting blorbos!!

[reconnecting]

rambling dont mind me

[walkawaytall]

Me: I could probably survive in the wilderness. I have the heart of a badass. I could make it in any situation if I had to. I’m a survivor.

My body: if you use a toaster after someone who eats bread with gluten in it, you experience Extreme Tummy Troubles™ and possibly a debilitating thyroid flare.

[starphobe]

fh fandom back to wishing death on a fictional teenager for being mentally ill and not learning how to cope with that in a healthy way. what else is new

[straylightdream]

pretty in pink - ♡

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: kwon soonyoung x afb.reader

who knew walking around without a bra on would drive your roommate insane.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): romance, porn without plot, smut, a rom/com if you will.

𝐚𝐮(𝐬): roommate au

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.8k

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, mc is body positive, so much banter

𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex (mc is on the pill), they get kind of rough, dirty talk, creampie, soft dom Soonyoung, Soonyoung has a panty kink, oral both rec, 69, face sitting, p in v intercourse, boob/nipple play, Soonyoung is obsessed with the mc boobs, spanking (mc gets spanked once or twice) nicknames: baby (hers)baby, tiger boy (his)

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ nsfw

🎧: guess - charli xcx & billie eilish |

𝐚𝐧: a fun raunchy story for our favorite tiger boy Soonyoung’s birthday. Thank you @aeristudios for listening to me ramble about this one. Thank you @supi-wupi for beta reading.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

Living with Soonyoung is a wild card. Some days it’s calm and he’s quiet. Other days he goes and says the most unhinged things.

You’ve been roommates for three years. You met through a mutual friend and instantly became close. When both of you were looking for somewhere to live, getting an apartment together just made sense. Sunday mornings are your favorite. You both have the day of, so you spend the day hanging out. Most Sundays you wake up early to enjoy a solo cup of coffee before Soonyoung is up.

“You know sometimes I think you were put onto this earth to make me suffer.” That’s a wild statement for Soonyoung to say at seven in the morning. You’re just standing in the kitchen innocently drinking your coffee, still just dressed in your pajamas.

Glancing up from your coffee you knit your brows together. What on earth is Soonyoung talking about? “What the fuck did I do to you?”

“I know you’re body positive and you aren’t a fan of wearing a bra. That’s fine, but normally when you aren’t wearing a bra you’re in a baggy shirt—“ Looking down you realize that you’re wearing a tank top that does barely anything to cover your breast. Your tiny sleep shorts aren’t really helping either. Your nipples are fully visible through your shirt. This man has no room to talk, he’s dressed in a pair of sweatpants that are set low on his hips. You can literally see the veins leading down to cock.

“Are my boobs distracting?” You take another sip of your coffee.

“Bro it’s seven in the damn morning and my fucking roommate has me hard.” You and Soonyoung are very blunt when it comes to talking about your sex lives. Him complaining about something getting him hard isn’t new. What is new is him complaining that you are the reason he’s hard.

“Did you seriously call me bro, while complaining about my boobs?” Sitting your coffee down on the counter. This conversation is insane. Soonyoung has always been kind of crazy, but this is a different level.

He rolls his eyes dramatically. “Can we just make a rule if you’re going to walk around not wearing a bra you warn me. I would really prefer to not have jack off at random hours of the day.”

“You know if you want to see them you can?” If he’s being dramatic you might as well tease him and have some fun. You start messing with the strap or your tank top.

“I just can’t see your tits and just walk away and pretend I’m fine.”

“You wouldn’t have to walk away.”

His big doe eyes go wide at the realization of your statement. “Excuse me?”

“Soonyoung will it help if I let you see my boobs, and then if you’re nice to me— maybe I could blow you and help you out.”

“Are you being serious?” He can’t even hide how shocked he sounds.

“I mean, yes—“ the words barely leave your mouth. He strides across the kitchen and crashes his lips into yours for a heat kiss. His finger tangled in your hair holding you close to him. Your chest is pressed against him. This kiss is anything but subtle; his tongue rubs against yours as your lips move together. This is a kind of kiss that is lust filled. He’s kissing you like he needs you to breathe.

Pulling away he gives you each a moment to catch your breath. Reaching up he takes your breast in his hand. His thumb brushes your nipple over your shirt. “You drive me so fucking crazy.”

“Maybe we should go to one of our rooms.”

He tilts his head to the side. There is no way this isn’t some wet dream or something. He’s terrified he’s going to wake up.

Grabbing your hand he drags you off to his room before he can say something stupid. Slamming his door shut he wasted no time practically ripping off your shirt. Standing in front of him in nothing but your sleep shorts.

“My god your tits are even better than I imagined.” He groans. “Lay on the bed and take off your shorts.”

Pulling off your shorts you’re left in a tiny pink thong. Hooking your fingers into the sides you stop when he says your name.

“Keep your thong on.” Of course he has a panty kink.

Crawling into the bed you spread your legs. You’ve never seen him move quicker in his life to strip down naked. The sight of him is absolutely mouth watering.

“Any hard nos?” He puts one knee on the bed and pauses. You’ve definitely heard Soonyoung have sex before. It turns out your two bedroom apartment that you spend way too much money on has thin walls. Nothing on the other side of the wall sounded too crazy.

“Like nothing gross and don’t degrade me. What about you?”

“Anything you want to try, I would be down.” He crawls across the bed towards you. “Can we keep your thong on?”

He sits on his knees between your spread legs. “Do you have a panty kink?” His hand rubs your thigh.

“No— I’ve just seen you bend over so many times and flash me your ass. It’s taken every thing in me not to bend you over and pull it to the side and fuck you right there.”

This whole situation doesn’t feel real. You’ve been pining after your roommate since you moved in together all those years ago.

“If you want to suck my cock, can you sit in my face while you do it.”

Sitting up you tap the bed next to you. God how is he still so adorable and so sexy at the same time? “Lay down tiger boy.”

He finds his place in the middle of the bed. He helps move your body so your wet core is hovering over his face. His straining cock is curved up towards you. You’ve never been a huge fan of sucking dick, but you can’t wait to taste him. He wraps his arms around your thighs pulling your pussy down to his face. You start stroking his length slowly.

Leaning down your start licking the rosy colored tip that’s already leaking precum. Sliding your mouth down his cock you take him as far as he can go before he brushes the back of your throat. The vein that runs the underside of his shaft is brushing against your tongue.

The moment he starts sucking your clit you can help but moan his name. Well it’s safe to say eating pussy is another thing Soonyoung can say he’s good at. The room is filled with moans and wet sounds. You hope he likes his head messy, his cock is coated in a mix of your spit and his precum.

His nose keeps brushing your clit applying the perfect amount of pressure. He has you seeing stars. At this rate you’re going to fall apart on his tongue with little effort.

Pulling your mouth off him, you pump his length over and over. You can’t help but moan.

“I’m close—“ your words are a high pitch whine.

Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave. Your vision blurs as your slump forwards. He keeps licking your clit as you ride out your high.

He smacks your ass and grips the flesh massaging it. “On your side baby.”

“I’m not done.” You planned on blowing him until he was begging you to stop.

“I’m not cumming in your mouth. Like I said, on your side.”

Laying on your side he’s straddling one of your legs while he is holding up your other leg. Taking his straining length in his hand he runs it through your wet folds. Tapping your clit he earns a moan from you.

“Should I get a condom?” You were so drunk on the idea of Soonyoung fucking you, the thought of a condom slipped your mind.

“Soon—“

“Is my baby eager for my cock?”

“Please—“ you’ve never been one to beg but you’ll beg for him.

Slowly inch by inch he thrust into you. He squeezes his eyes shut trying to stay calm. “Fuck your tight—“ he groans.

Rolling your head back, you moan his name. He pushes his hips into yours at a quick and firm pace. He’s fucking you at a rough pace and your brain feels like mush. Moaning his name like you’re in heat. Reaching forward he grips your breast. His fingers toy with your nipple.

“New rule, no tops allowed in the house.” He moans. If Soonyoung chose to walk around naked you wouldn’t ever complain. He’s got the body of a Greek god.

You’re hit with the sudden realization that things are going to change. There is no way this could just be a fun friends with benefits situation. Sure you could try it out, but you already have a crush on your roommate. And to be quite honest it would take little effort for him to make you fall in love with him.

Closing yours you have pushed away the thoughts that are suddenly consuming you like a parasite.

“Fuck—“ you moan.

“Baby I’m close.” He snapping his hips into yours at a rough pace. His grip on your breast hasn’t stopped. The way he’s toying with your nipples you know you’ll be sore tomorrow.

Reaching down you brush your fingers over your sensitive clit. Biting your bottom lip you hold back moaning as much as you can. If your walls are thin between your rooms, you definitely don’t need your neighbors to know that Soonyoung is fucking the living daylights out of you.

Your second orgasm makes you feel like you’re going to black out. Your body feels numb as every nerve feels like it’s on fire. This is the best sex of your life. How are you ever supposed to sleep with another man after this.

“Baby, where can I finish?” You’re hit with the realization that neither of you remembered a condom.

“Inside, I’m clean and on the pill.”

“I’m clean too.” He groans in response.

His hand leaves your breast and grips your hips for leverage as he snaps his hips into your

He moans your name like a sinful prayer as he finds his own release. He paints your walls with his milk release. Dropping your leg, he’s still snug inside you. He leans so he is practically laying on top of you. He presses a bunch of gentle kisses across your skin anywhere he can reach. He’s acting the polar opposite of how he was just fucking you.

Running your fingers through his hair you can’t help but smile in your dazed post sex bliss.

“God I like you so much,” he mumbles between kisses.

“I like you too.” You whisper back.

If you have asked to be tagged I request that you please reblog. If you could leave comments and or tags that would be greatly appreciated.

[inkskinned]

no, actually, where is the whimsy?

my ex had a best friend named larry who asked me once: what do you think comes after irony?

we were at the bar where larry worked. it was a quiet night, and he'd hopped over to sit with us on the patron side. i swirled the lemon around my limoncello martini.

earnest positivity, i said, while my ex said, art self-destructs.

i stared at my ex. he stared at me.

his argument was the cinemasins argument: look how bad media is becoming! look at the loopholes and the dumb shit!

it was roughly 2011. galaxy print was still in. at the time, i had a favorite shirt that was a wolf howling at the moon. it got ripped in half in the wash and i honestly still mourn it. i dressed like effie stonem, because everyone did. and irony was the name of the thing. men liked MLP "ironically." the internet liked the kind of crass, "anti-mainstream" vibes of things like fuck romance, touch my butt and buy me pizza. we put cats in sunglasses everywhere, which was because we only liked things in irony.

and media had the same vibe in it: anti-hero white men would be "hard to love" and then storm off the scene. nobody was just earnestly trying to save the world: they were jaded, angry, unoriginal. mad you even asked them to try to help.

my ex ends up not being wrong. cinemasins becomes super popular. a lot of people start viewing media with this lens that is the cruelest, most jaded depiction. it's wrong for your character to have unexplained powers, even if the entire movie is about how strange it is she has unexplained powers - that is still considered a "loophole." characters make thoughtless, panicked choices? loophole. characters are actually kind people, despite hardship? loophole. features a woman doing literally anything without assistance? loophole. movies become hyper-aware of scrutiny, and now irony rules the media.

which means you go to a movie, and the character has to turn to the screen and say "beats me!!" or one of the side characters has to have some kind of quip like "are you seriously telling me that you think this is normal?" because nothing can happen in earnest. like a sitcom laugh track, we now anticipate the fourth-wall break: the moment that the media acknowledges it is telling a story. the media has to apologize for itself, or else someone like my ex rolls their eyes.

but here's the thing: i wasn't wrong either.

the difference might be that i am (and always have been) so soft-hearted that any crack in the light of this world will spear me into the ground. and i was the poet in the relationship. (he thought that was the same thing as being naïve and stupid). i was making things daily. i knew how all of us artists are driven by some strange desire to evolve. he notably liked to critique art, not to create it.

so yes, i've made things that are bitter and angry and even ironic. i've made long, sharp poems with all capital letters, and i've made poems about how the silence stretches out like a song. someone wrote once that we will spend our whole lives just circling the place we grew up. i think it's more that we spend our whole lives trying to remake a home. i think it's that as we age, it becomes less exciting to build the castle on the beach - we become aware of erosion, of windforce. we realize what we really want is to come home to our dog, castle or not.

and while art in the foreground is mired in white male violence and irony, and aggression, and not taking anything seriously - i don't think that's true of all art. i think more and more artists are leaning in to the things we love. the world has changed so much. they have taken so many things from us. the only thing we have left is love. at the bottom of the moving box - all we get is the faint sense that we have to appreciate what little we've got. i can't enjoy this stuff ironically anymore: what room do i have for irony? if it makes me happy, that is an amazing thing. there are so few happy places left for me. i want to be happy because of how leaves shiver beside each other like nestling birds. i want to be happy because of the color pink, and how magenta doesn't exist. i have spent so much of this life suffering, i have earned my right to a gentle ending. if nothing matters, i get to assign meaning to the nothing. i get to create meaning. i am an artist first and foremost, which means creation is my thing.

where is the whimsy? wherever i fucking put it. because if this is my last fucking chance to do any good in this world - i want to do it earnestly. i want to write things that make you happy. that make people feel heard and seen. what comes after irony has to be positivity.

it was close to my 21st birthday. in 7 years, i would end up writing a book about this relationship, which is hopefully coming out somewhere around May 2024. i come back to this bar scene in my memories a lot. i keep thinking of how pale my ex was. the look that crossed his face. how i looked back at him. how for a moment, both of us couldn't recognize the other person. like the gulf between us was a suddenly wide and cavernous thing. like we were alien to each other. he never took my opinion seriously, and he always seemed surprised whenever his manic-pixie-dream-girl ever broke free of the plot. like in the whole time we were together, i wasn't human enough.

this knowledge: where he said nothing comes after, my only instinct was what comes after is love.

[threewaywithdelusion]

You know what makes me feral? Robb Stark making Jon Snow his heir. From every single possible angle, it's just too good.

Robb's unfailing trust in his brother. His willingness to fight his mother for Jon, even after the Theon fiasco, and insist that Jon is different. Robb's love for his bastard brother is one of my favorite things about him, and the moment where he decides to make Jon his heir is truly Robb at his best.

And Jon never finds out. He turns down Stannis's offer of legitimization and Winterfell, not knowing that everything he ever wanted is already his. It drives me crazy, because it would mean so much to Jon. Even if he wouldn't abandon the Wall for it, he would want to know that Robb loved him enough to make him a Stark.

And Sansa! The way her ghost lingers over both boys. The way Robb and Jon think about their sisters is one of the major differences between them. Robb wouldn't give up his honorable war or his prisoner the Kingslayer to save two little girls. He disinherited Sansa when she was married to Tyrion, which is good military strategy to keep Winterfell out of Lannister hands, but would hurt her immensely if she knew.

And Jon is the opposite. Jon dies trying to get to Arya, because he will give up his honor and prioritize one little girl over a war against a literal army of the dead intent on annihilating all the living. (Not good military strategy, but Jon and Arya's bond is so important). And Jon won't take Winterfell when there's a chance Sansa will claim it. Even when Stannis calls her Lady Lannister, Jon does not dream of usurping Sansa's claim. I truly believe that Jon would sooner have Lady Sansa Lannister rule from Winterfell than claim it while she lives to keep it in "Stark" hands.

The politics of which Stark sibling holds the North is endlessly fascinating to me and I wish they could know what their siblings are doing for them. Jon should know that Robb made him a king. Sansa should know that Jon refused to take her home.

[arrimorr]

Alright,

A base lore info about my setting.

Most of it was yapped away through the asks already, but I decided that it's still worth to organise this stuff in a coherent manner. This text also doesn't really touch on the character's arcs and their relationships with each other. This is more about the wider setting.

SHORT VERSION:

Tginf is a horror roadtrip game I'm planning to make. Embark on a terribly convoluted forest car ride with different local creatures hitchhiking your car.

EXTENDED VERSION:

The main character: You (are going to) play as the Nameless, a 20+ year old without a name, a concrete gender or any understanding of who to become to avoid getting crushed by a closing in adult life.

The forest:

The forest they got unlucky to travel through is a strict eco system. Everything not useful to it gets digested by it. Literally slowly disintegrated to at least feed the soil. At least this process takes some time.

The feudals:

Luckily, the forest road is ruled by three higher beings that can save unlucky travelers by giving each of them a useful (in their opinion) role to play.

The names of the feudals are:

the Oxygen, the King of the road, the Mine.

You can easily envision their domains if you split the forest space in three layers. Everything above it, everything that is on the ground, and everything below it. Every forest entity that the Nameless encounter serves one of them.

Because their territories are literally stacked on top of each other, the three don't get along particularly well and have been in a territorial conflict for centuries. For feudals, acquiring new followers through picking up the lost and stranded is another way of getting new resources in it.

The specifics of each feudal and their individual followers:

The Oxygen:

The Oxygen is physically invincible and, because of that, she never had to rely on anyone in her existence. This had a big effect on her personality. Unlike the King of the Road and the Mine, she doesn't really NEED to pick up lost and stranded to make new followers. She can create servants out of thin air, like she did with the Dummy*. She picks up travelers for her own amusement, since entertainment plays a big factor in a lot of her actions, and because the King and the Mine are invested in collecting them.

Her followers are:

The Dummy,

the Diver,

the Time Seller.

* The Dummy was created as a jab at the King of the Road's second hand - the Knight.

* The Diver is there as a statement of ineffectiveness on the King's ruling manner. He does the same type of job his followers do, but unlike them, his mind was in no way altered or modified*

* The Time seller, despite previously being human, was made into a tiger, because the Oxygen wanted to see what would happen if she fully dehumanises somebody. She likes experimenting like that.

The King of the Road:

The King of the road is very physically fragile. He needs protection, and, despite his rather gentle demeanor, time made him paranoid and fixated on the idea of control. He collects the followers to avoid any new and unpredictable variables appearing in the forest.

Through trial and error, he came to a conclusion that love is the greatest source of loyalty and motivation, so he tampers with his followers' brains to make sure they love both him and the work he gives them.

His followers are :

the Tenant,

the Radio host,

(Sorry, don't have a proper picture of her yet, since her main way of communication is...well...radio, and because I ran into Tumblr's picture per post limit, I decided to cut what I had of her imagery away)

the Knight.

*The Forest is full of eldritch, sentient and, most importantly, hungry places, such as the House, the Radio Tower and the Grand Lake. The King aims to station his followers in them, so they also stay in his area of control. The Tenant and the Radio host view their designated places as if they are their marriage partners. They love them, they provide for them.

*The King also prefers to take his time before taking a new follower in. After all, the more he waits, the more the traveler gets digested by the forest, allowing the King to rebuild his new follower to his liking. Sadly, the opportunity to wait long enough rarely presents itself because of the Oxygen and the Mine interfering all the time, thus, the only follower he got to fully reconstruct from the state of blank meat was the Knight. This made him the most predictable and by extension the most trustworthy being in the forest to him.

The Mine:

About a year ago I watched a documentary about mine workers. A part of it was dedicated to the fact, that, in case of that particular mine, people should have been working inside of it 24/7, otherwise the tunnels were guaranteed to slowly become toxic. What caught my attention was the way they spoke about it. They said something along the lines of "otherwise she would start to suffocate". And that unexpected personification never left my mind ever since.

SO, the Mine in tginf sufferers from a constant lack of oxygen, and starts to gradually suffocate if there's is no one performing the maintenance work inside of her. The problem is - she is toxic, thus none of her followers live particularly long inside of her. Which places her in a constant struggle to get herself the new ones. She lets some of her followers out on the road only for one purpose - to promote the service to her to the new travelers. Followers like that are all called Pr agents. Out of the three feudals, the Mine is the most reliant on others to survive.

Her followers are, you won't believe it:

Pr Agent 117

Pr agent 121,

Pr agent 124/178 (the number changes depending on the story route)

*None of them lived long enough to meet the other.

I also made a voice claim post some time ago, you can check it out to feel the characters too

And Incomplete Character relationship chart :]

[rooksamoris]

Helloo amoraa! i really love your writing and always looking forward for more fanfiction you write. But may i send a request this time? To be honest this is my first time requesting, so hopefully i didn’t break any rules. I would like the overblot gang x fem reader (if you don’t mind) who eats lemon and lime like it’s an orange. Not lemonade, just straight up lemon (i love anything sour 🙏🏻🙏🏻😭). Perhaps reader is a kind person and always wanted to share her lemon and lime with the characters even if they don’t want it. Thanks a lot amoraa, have a great dayyy

SHARING SOUR SNACKS !!

💞 — featuring; riddle rosehearts, leona kingscholar, azul ashengrotto, jamil viper, vil schoenheit, idia shroud, malleus draconia. 💞 — gender neutral reader. no warnings. i changed the reader to gn because it was inconsequential for this piece. hope you enjoy!!

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS.

🩷 — The first time you did it, Riddle was very quick to tell you that raw lemons had a high acidity which could burn your throat and cause an acid reflux. 

🩷 — He understands the health benefits, of course, but usually lemons in that case are used diluted in warm water or in a cup of tea. Overall, he's kind of concerned, lovingly so.

🩷 — When you do offer him a lemon, he accepts it because he is a gentleman, but he will have it made into a pastry. 

🩷 — Riddle has a strained relationship with food generally because of his mother, so he does find it kind of nice that you just eat what you like, even when it is literally a lemon that you peeled as if it were just an orange. 

🩷 — When Cater comments about his friend has a strange diet, Riddle is quick to say that it is perfectly fine, so long as you were happy and healthy.

He took the lemon you offered him, you even went through the extra effort of wrapping it in a pretty little bow, with a polite smile, “Ah… thank you, my dear,” he said. He asks Trey to bake it into something for him, and later in the afternoon you both are enjoying your respective lemons over some tea in the rose gardens. 

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR.

🩷 — Honestly, Leona does not care that much. So long as you’re taking care of yourself, he does not care what you eat. He has his preferences and you have yours.

🩷 — He does think the smell of lemons and limes clinging to you is quite pleasant and it also makes you very easy to find in a crowd of people. 

🩷 — Whenever you do offer one to him, he declines. Respectfully, he does not really want to eat raw lime the way you do. If you continue to insist, he just takes it. I imagine the Sunset Savanna has some East African politeness rules that he grew up adhering to as it pertains to gifts.

🩷 — He’ll probably end up tossing it into the kitchen for someone else to enjoy.

🩷 — Overall, it makes no difference to him what you eat. It’s a little odd, yeah, but there’s no judgement coming from him.

“I know you’re there, kidege,” he said, not opening his eyes as he laid with his hands behind his head. He was laying out in the field, beneath a tree. It was a nice summer afternoon, with a breeze and heat that was not too unbearable. The wind brought with it the familiar scent of lemons and limes. He opens a single eye, “Come with more gifts? I can smell them on you.”

AZUL ASHENGROTTO.

🩷 — Azul thinks it's odd, but he also assumes that would make it easy for him to sell you some lemonade or other sour drinks sold at the lounge. 

🩷 — He also assumes it must be a strange human thing. He and the twins grew up with completely different forms of food back in the Coral Sea, and there are plenty of acts committed by humans that he still thinks are odd. He has yet to completely assimilate to the world away from the ocean.

🩷 — When you try and order your usual plate of lemon slices, just lemon slices, he tries to offer you some lemonade instead and you just smile and repeat you just want your lemons. 

🩷 — Azul will provide, regardless. He likes having another customer just as any other business owner would. Still, he can’t help but ask the humans he knows on this issue.

“You’re here for your usual, yes? Worry not, I will personally bring it to you,” he said, before disappearing behind the kitchen. He brought your usual drink and a plate of lemon slices. He sets them down before furrowing his brow a bit. Oh, well. If you damaged your teeth enamel, he would be there to swoop in with a deal to get you sent to a dentist. 

JAMIL VIPER.

🩷 — Listen, I fully believe Jamil grew up with his parents telling him that lemons and honey were the cure for everything. All he needed to do was make some tea with ginger, lemon and honey and boom, all of his ailments would be healed. Sore throat? Lemon. Runny nose? Lemon. Broken bone? Well, most things could be healed with a good ripe lemon. 

🩷 — When you ask for lemon slices during a visit to Scarabia, he thinks that you might be feeling unwell, and obliges, bringing you some honey and warm water to.

🩷 — But then you don’t have the honey or the water and just start rawdogging the lemon slices like their oranges. He’s a bit off put by it, staring at you, waiting for some sort of reaction. 

🩷 — At first he assumed you were trying to catch him off guard on purpose, but soon he realizes it’s just some quirk of yours. 

🩷 — Now he slices extra limes if he hears you’ll be visiting Scarabia.

You were sitting on one of the ornate divans, leaning on one of the cushions. One of the other dorm members led you in when they saw you waiting outside and alerted Jamil. Eventually, he walked in, carrying a tray with some mango juice and a plate of sliced limes, “I heard you were coming to study. Eat first and then I’ll share my notes with you.”

VIL SCHOENHEIT.

🩷 — Absolutely not. He’s all for the benefits of having a slice of lemon or lime with your breakfast, but the thought of just eating them like they were oranges was just a no for him. 

🩷 — He’s very worried about your enamel and the possibility of the dreaded acid reflux. He will not enable your behavior and if you are in his presence, he will try to prevent it. If you come by to Pomefiore asking for lemons, you will have to have it in lemonade form. So sorry.

🩷 — He thinks it’s strange, but he’s done stranger things for his appearance and discipline, so there’s little judgement in that sense.

🩷 — Vil is just worried about your health, honestly.

🩷 — Overall, he likes that you make a habit of incorporating a nutrient dense item into your food, he just does not like the amount you consume, and the manner in which you do it. You will have to dilute your limes into water in his presence.

“Ah–ah,” Vil clicked his tongue as he gently tugged the lime slice away from your hand. You brought yourself some lime slices in a little plastic bag. His immaculate brows were knitted as he walked over to bring you a glass of water, shaking his head, “What did I tell you about the acidity in these? You have to dilute it so that you won’t damage your teeth. You’re almost as stubborn as Epel.”

IDIA SHROUD.

🩷 — Bro, how in the world did you sneak a fruit this close to him?

🩷 — Idia sticks to that which comforts him when it comes to food. He likes his brightly colored candies, his crunchy chips and his highly caffeinated drinks. He is not interested in foods which are too complex or have mushy sorts of textures. 

🩷 — His patience is thin and I doubt he's very interested in cutting up fruits. The rare times he actually sees you in person, whenever you’re dropping something off at Ignihyde or picking something up, you always have some sour treat in hand. You offered it to him once, and took anxious to tell you no explicitly, he accepted.

🩷 — It was not a good reaction. The texture of the lemon slice bothered him greatly, the ridges where the juices spilled especially, and that was not even considering the taste. Safe to say, his expression embarrassed him greatly.

🩷 — He avoided you for a while after that. Sour gummy worms, sure, but raw dogging a lemon is not for him.

“U–uhm, yeah, here. Your phone is… is fixed,” he muttered, looking up at you from his desk as he held the device out to you. You were picking up your phone after he dealt with some virus issue you came across. He was still getting around his embarrassment from the lemon slice incident. Gently, he pushed a bag of sour gummies your way, “... want some? They… uh— they’re better than the limes…”

MALLEUS DRACONIA.

🩷 — Malleus did not think it was weird until he saw other people react to it. You just like lemons and limes, just as he likes shaved ice and popsicles. Sure, you seemed to like them excessively, but it was kind of cute. 

🩷 — He sees Sebek gawk at you as you peel a lemon and take a bite out of it and then he realizes it is weird. To others, of course, not to him. 

🩷 — When you offered him one of your lemon slices, he was flattered. It was sweet of you to share that which you enjoyed with him. He accepted with thanks, but tells you that it would have probably been more pleasant as a frozen sweet treat.

🩷 — One day a local grocery stores finds themselves graced with the presence of the great Prince Malleus Draconia of the Briar Valley.

🩷 — That very night he comes to you with a little carton of lemon flavored ice cream and two freshly polished spoons to share it. You shared your treat with him, and now he was to return the favor.

“I believe I much prefer the lemon in this form,” he said, thinking very seriously about the ice cream, comparing it to the lemon slice you shared with him the day before. This was sweeter, and he liked how cold it was. His glimmering green eyes shifted in your direction and he tilted his head to the side, his raven hair falling forward slightly, “And what do you think, child of man?” he asked.

©rooksamoris 2025. do not steal or translate my work!

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[moonyflesh]

What if Wolverine took you to a hockey game?

WARNINGS: (not much). no smut- just a playful set of imagines/headcannons — very fluffy and ‘lovey-dovey’ (small kisses and cursing).

CHARACTERS: James “Logan” Howlett (‘Wolverine’) - (MARVEL/X-MEN)

🍺 .*.. 🏒

- At first you thought he was joking.

- i mean- can you imagine trying to squeeze his massive frame into one of those tiny, plastic stadium chairs?

- sure you know nothing about the “Calgary Flames”, but supporting the beast either way is entertaining enough as it is—

- (^) literally the worst person to sit around. he’s loud, obnoxious, (big), and curses like there’s no tomorrow.

- “fuckin- can you fuckin’ believe these pieces ‘uh shit? i totally could’ve fuckin’ made that fuckin’ shot. buncha’ bullshit ifya ask me.”

- he’s definitely big on stadium snacks. constantly has to get up and get more food (and beer).

- (^) the bar would 100% have to draw a limit on the amount of beer they can physically sell him.

- probably walks you through the basic rules of ice hockey, and/or the different players, and the fan-favorites.

- little forehead or cheek kisses when he needs to run to go to the bathroom or grab more food.

- one of his arms is slung around your shoulders at all times.

- throughout the game, he’s constantly glancing over at you- reading your facial expressions. are you enjoying yourself? do you know what’s happening? is this entertaining for you, too?

- definitely likes to show you (and your jersey) off.

- (^) forced you to wear a Flames jersey (that’s much to large on you) and is proud of you for “pickin’ the right fuckin’ team”— so what? at least you get his undivided attention.

- puts you on his shoulders so you both have a better chance of getting on the big screen.

- (^) and if you do? jesus, it makes his whole month. the second that camera pans to you two he’s already tongue-deep into your mouth, grinning like an idiot as you try to push him away from embarrassment.

- you totally go to the photo booth and take the most grainy, out-of-focus pictures known to man together in some shitty ice rink backdrop, (to which he insists you look beautiful- and sticks the entirety of the photo into his wallet).

- buys you a shitload of merch, including one of the collectible hockey pucks.

- claims to know some of the players personally (he’s never met any of them outside of the rink).

- distinctly shouts out each player’s first and last names when cheering them on.

- boos the other team, and their fans with zero shame whatsoever.

- the drive home depends on the outcome of the game.

- (^) The Flames lose? he’s not even mad- he’s just disappointed that that was all his team could manage for your first game. he promises to take you to more, though.

- (^) and if they win? he’s already discussing the ticket prices for the next game (if you’re willing to go with him again); excited grins tossed your way here and there as he makes sure you’re paying attention.

@trenchcoathunnybee08 this is dedicated to you! Sorry it took so long to finally get out (in some ways, it’s still a WIP). 🫶🏼

((if any of you would like to be added to my taglist, let me know through my inbox.))

[ryes-brownies08]

feature me [jay x male reader]

"You really killed it out there." Jay spoke, almost taunting. "You really think so?" You asked, reciprocating his energy. "I know so. Because I watching the entire time."

NSFW - If you're a minor, i literally do not care. Just dont let ur mom catch u or whatever 🤷‍♂️

Requested by: Anonymous

˙⋆✮ genre: SMUT ˙⋆✮ roles: top! jay, bttm! mreader ˙⋆✮ word count: 3.7k words ˙⋆✮ inspo: feature me - flo

SYNOPSIS: Jay and M/n. Two fierce performers in their respective categories, and a surprisingly good fit for one another. Their label knew what they were doing when they arranged for the two to perform a cover song together. What the two musicians hadn't known, though, was how attracted they'd be to each other, and how they weren't just impressed with one another's talents. As Jay and M/n entertained their mutual attraction, they found themselves caught in a night they'd never forget.

WARNINGS + TAGS: flirting, music industry, rough unprotected sex, swearing, insensitive at times, guitarist jay, fingering, intense sex, tension ;))), depictions of any irl character here does not reflect who they are irl this work is purely fictional, etc

The stage is set. The room holds its breath with anticipation. You stand in the middle of darkness as you stare out into the audience of the acoustic lounge you're in. You can see them, but they can't see you.

It's somehow nerve-wracking given you've performed in a lot of places for a lot of different people before. Maybe it’s different now because this acoustic lounge had pretty skilled instrumentalists in it, and you never really performed with a live band before. That means you have to match their performance with the only tool you have, your voice.

Then it hits. The kick and closed hi-hat. The signature sound of the song you were covering, aside from the notable guitar; ‘Feature Me’ by FLO.

The lights fade in, and you barely manage a 'singer-model expression' before it gets illuminated. The hi-hats of the intro shuffle complexly, matching the rhythm of your tense heartbeat. God, this live set makes you so nervous. That didn't matter now, it was time to do what your fans loved best; sing and move your body. After all, you know that this performance, much like any other, would definitely be recorded and posted.

Your makeup glistened as the light rose, reminding you of your look. A light streak of blue and white glitter, spread across either cheekbone like glossy freckles. Silver piercings in your ears, small but intricate - you can't remember them too well. Light blue denim jeans, well-fit at the thighs and gradually loosening at the calves, paired with a sleeveless denim vest of the same color, buttoned up except for the top button, showing off your collarbone.

Your arms were also out, and while they weren't built at all, sometimes your biceps flexed, and it felt like the stylists made the right choice. Maybe that dreadful gym was proving to pay off more than you thought.

You’re set up for success, and can't make this all for nothing.

You hold the mic stand firmly as you do your best to look confident. You’ve got to sing your first line as the intro comes to an end. "Not what I usually do, but I've been peeping you." You sing. Not bad, albeit a bit breathy for how you'd prefer to sound.

"I'm tryna play it cool but it's too much, yeah." You follow, your free hand slithering up to your collarbone. Still getting used to everything, you wonder if that move was too much. Your hands weren't really free in your other performances, always busy with a handheld mic or doing a dance, so you thought to pull that sensual move.

"Got me breaking the rules; there ain't no second to." You take a breath, a sharp inhale which could have been avoided if you managed your breath better. "He's my forbidden fruit, yeah." You do a good job at the latter half, your tone rich with vibrato.

Then, the bass kicks in, and an ambient light from behind you casts a warm, orange glow on your (S/c) skin. The hall is acoustic and cozy, but quite modernized as well, and it excites you. The keyboardist plays a vibey tune, followed by the guitarist playing the signature sound of the amorous, seductive R&B anthem. What surprises you though, was the electric take on the originally acoustic guitar. It made everything more sensual and interesting.

You take the mic from the stand, and walk around slowly, the crowd lightly cheering as you become comfortable. You gotta move and give this performance some flavour; you were always about adding a bit of zest into the things you did, which made you as authentic as you were.

A nod from the drummer, a grin from the keyboardist, but one instrumentalist in particular catches your eye. The guitarist. Amongst them all, he's someone you know. Not personally, but you're a pretty big fan of. You've liked almost every post of his, despite having a load more followers than him.

Park Jongseong. Or better known as the attractive guitarist Jay. Beautiful and talented, seductive by just doing his thing. He was an actualisation of a very interesting concept, his visual sleek, polished and upper-class, whilst his aesthetic and marketing was edgy, sexualised and so seductively masculine.

He catches you looking at him, and you see that look in his eye. Slender and strapping. He’s biting his lip in concentration, his eyebrows knit tightly together as he focuses on his guitar. But something about that gaze feels partially reciprocal, with undertones of tension. That’s the sexy look you’ve been dying to see up close – as a fan, all you’ve done so far is fantasize about him in ways not appropriate for everyday conversation.

You change your trajectory and strut up to him, as you sing the lines of the chorus, now being able to balance your voice against the volume of the live band. "Set the scene and feature me. Touch on me, get on your knees. I'll take the lead." You smile as the audience around you warms up with your performance. He plays the guitar, bopping his head as he vibes to the beat.

You approach him, and the two of you are standing before each other. You're testing the waters, and it doesn't seem like he minds at all. The crowd cheers; loud enough to be appreciative and quiet enough to be respectful of your show.

To look casual, you swagger over to the other band members, trying not to look hyperfixated over Jay. But it's clear that when you waltz over to them, it's more supportive than when you and Jay stand before each other. It's like pitting a growing flame against a gentle daisy; intense tension against a friendly, platonic support.

As you reach the bridge and the song gets closer to its end, you find yourself drawn back to the centre stage. You roll your body just a little, and the crowd loves it. You've performed expertly, and subtly but effectively seductively.

"Are you receiving the signs? I'm speaking on my mind." You sing, and it comes out like velvet and thunder; you're not just singing, you're inviting him. And when you look back at him, he's biting his lips and shredding that guitar. He's definitely not minding the signs.

"I just want you to come through. I've already set the mood; I'll tell you what to do to me, yeah, yeah." You sing, hitting the high note of the song. Grand and demanding in it's tone - rich yet sultry enough, wavering healthily with vibrato.

The crowd erupts in a full blown cheer, some hands in the air, some jaws knocked right open, and unseen tongues tied for sure. You can see the instrumentalists truly feel it from your peripherals, appreciative of your high note as they continue to do their thing. But again, you come back to Jay.

In a surge of confidence, you place a hand on Jay's free shoulder, gyrating your hips slowly as you wink at him, and he looks at you with a bold smile, dimples forming on either side of his cheeks. The crowd goes wild as you follow up with some ad-libs and riffs in honour of your inspiration trio, FLO.

The last post-chorus feels danceable, and you don't have to do so much at all. You repeat a simple "oh-oh~" over and over and that takes you to the end. But just before the song finishes, you walk behind Jay, and as you sing the finishing line, "I'll take the lead," you slither a hand up on his shoulder. The crowd delivers a round of applause, and you let out a breath of amusement and gratefulness.

The band members look at each other in reverence, and you smile at the audience gratefully. You, alongside the rest of the crew, bring your hands together as you applaud each other, and you and Jay spare a glance at each other. His is firm, his smile stoic and a bit more than just platonically appreciative. Flustered, you chuckle and break the eye contact, drawing a laugh from him.

You turn to face the audience, placing the mic back in the stand. They cheer and have faces full of smiles. It takes a moment, but it dawns upon you; you did well.

After giving the audience a few words of gratitude, you and the rest of the members leave the stage.

The rest of the crew vanishes elsewhere, whilst you walk backstage, catching a breath as you grab your water bottle from your desk in the dressing room. Everyone is gone by now, and the night feels like it's coming to an end. It's nice to have a moment to yourself knowing you didn't do that bad at all on stage.

You hear the door creak and shut lightly. It doesn't alarm you, but someone else just entered your dressing room. "I'm not interrupting, am I?" You hear from behind you, and already know who it is.

You whip your head back, and you're met with the sight of exactly who you expected. Your favourite guitarist, in a silk white dress shirt, unbuttoned at the top with his sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms, with black slacks that fit his legs delectably.

"Not at all. What's up?" You respond before thinking. It's quite casual for who you are, but you can't undo the trajectory of the conversation now.

He lets out an expensive chuckle. It's like fine wine, or cigarettes after sex, or a hybrid of both - it calls out to you. "It's M/n, right? I mean, I just wanted to say that you killed it out there. Every part of that." He smiles nonchalantly as he puts his hands in his pocket and leans on a hip. In your opinion, he didn't need those pants.

"Awh..." You manage, your fingers running through your collarbone sheepishly. It was a little penchant of yours, and a weird contrast to how you'd touch it on stage. Maybe it just looked charismatic, but was you trying to comfort yourself. "I'm actually a big fan. I follow your page." You admit.

"For real? Appreciate it man." He says, tilting his head a little before placing right back to a neutral position. How seductive. You weren't that type of guy, but Jay was so attractively masculine. Grounded, sexy, dominant, and enough of a tease to get you going without pissing you off.

"No, you're great! Tonight, too; and the guitar was electric, so I was so surprised. Cause the guitar of 'Feature Me' is acoustic, if I'm not wrong?" You cross your arms and lean on your hip, comfortable and enjoying his company.

Jay shrugged, hands still in his pockets. "I dunno, I just followed the sheet. Glad you liked it. But really," Jay spoke, his voice with an undertone of implication. "You really killed it out there." It was like a taunt. It was prying something out of you, the way he took no more than half a step closer to you. Not yet implicit enough to be brass-necked, but audacious enough to be exciting.

The air in the room shifted, and you knew exactly where this was going. There was no more room for the cute chitchat, things were taking a turn. "You really think so?" You ask, reciprocating that energy. But to be fair, that was just you; led easily into submission and ready to serve. In your experience, it felt like that nature about you excited the more assertive type, the trait acting like a beacon to people like Jay.

"I know so. Because I watching the entire time." Jay replies, the tone in his voice no longer a question. His hand reaches out to gently grab your chin, vigilant for any signs of discomfort.

You look up to meet his gaze. It's everything you want. Assertive, strapping, lustful, sly. Undeniable.

"Well," Your eyelids relax as your expression, once eager, submissive and excited, was now sedative, alluring and lustful. You want him bad. "What happens now?"

He can't help but grin, letting out a playful scoff. He doesn't say anything, letting the silence speak for itself as you stare in each others eyes, as you realise the two of you are much closer to each other than before.

TIME SKIP

The sound of moist squelching fills up the now locked dressing room, and the air around you is still except for the whirr of a nearby fan. You're out of breath, panting helplessly as you're now certain that your face is red through your (S/c) skin. The leather couch in the dressing room feels cold against your bare ass, your legs spread on either side as Jay kneels in front of you, two slender and skilful fingers deep in you.

Your leg twitches, hips locking as if shifting between becoming free of tension and tense again as he does so. You're a whimpering hot mess beneath him. He pushes his fingers in deep, admiring your face as he fingers you. The only clothing on you now was your unbuttoned denim vest, revealing your slender body.

"Jay... fuck..." You bite your lip, trying your best to hold back your moans.

He just chuckles in response. It makes you feel weak in the knees, and slightly embarrassed. "You're so cute, M/n." He leans closer, face to face with you as his fingers remain sunken deep inside you, making you squirm and arch up as your shoulder blades press against the back of the couch. "You're gonna feel so good around my cock."

You melt, and you can't keep the eye contact with him. He looks so sure, so ready, and it makes you feel completely at his disposal. He smirks and leans in for a kiss. Gentle at first, then gradually more demanding. His tongue slides into your mouth, swift, slippery and expertly taking charge. Alongside the slurping, squelching sounds of your lips, you can still audibly hear him still finger you, rubbing against your prostrate every now and then.

He then bites your bottom lip. Hard. But not hard enough to draw blood. You gasp, and hold onto him out of reflex, needing support. He lets out another chuckle against your lips, finding you adorable. You blush every time, more and more bashful of your reactions while you're just entranced by the sexy and dominant man he is.

With a few more kisses and strokes to the inside of your tight hole, he pulls his fingers out. Sharp enough to make you wince, but gentle enough to feel pleasurable.

You take a breath, and it comes out shaky and frazzled, then watch him as he undoes his zipper, bringing something solid out of the confinements of his pants. "Alright, M/n. You ready for this?" He asks, and his sly gaze is something you realise you'll never get over.

You nod in response.

"Nuh-uh." He tuts. "I wanna hear you say it." Jay replies, pulling a sizeable erection out of his pants.

"Jay, please fuck me..." You respond, flustered, your own erection hardening at the thought of sex with him.

And just as you expect he would, he lets out another chuckle. "God, M/n." Jay spoke, getting up for a moment as he took off his shirt. He reaches for the lube you have in your bag, and pours a sizeable amount onto his shaft, unzipped and free from the restraint of his pants. He doesn't bother to take his pants off fully, letting them hang below his v-line. Then, he begins leaning over you, fists buried in the couch above either of your shoulders.

Jay looks down at your legs, spread wide open, making him lick his lips at the thought of fucking your pert ass. His tip teases your entrance as he tries to line the two up, hitting your perineum every now and then.

But then, when he's aligned perfectly, he enters you unmissably. It's swift, rough, and intense. He's prepped you up real good, and you can feel him inside you, his well-rounded size and thickness pleasuring you without even thrusting.

"Fuck!" You whine, letting out a wet moan. Jay growls as he enters, his cock surrounded by your walls.

"Shit, M/n." He lets out an eager, husky chuckle. "Still so tight after all that prepping, huh? I'm gonna enjoy this." He begins to pick up some momentum, and you can feel his pubic hair tingle against your leg every now and then.

Watching him like this was a treat; everything about him is perfect. His abs are lit up perfectly, the light behind him making him look ethereal. His arms are also well defined, and his thigh muscles flex with every thrust. Everything from his face, to his muscles, to the hair on his body; it's all gorgeous. But you don't have as much time to think about that as you'd like, given the way he furiously pumps into you.

Each thrust was raw and primal, going to lengths you hadn't known were possible. "Ah.. fuck... Jay..!" You moan exasperatedly, feeling an ache in your inner thighs and hips from being in the strenuous position for so long.

"Yeah, baby. Keep moaning for me. Don't you dare fucking stop." He replies, a hand reaching out to grab your face, squishing your cheeks. Jay is the epitome of hot, and you love being made into his plaything. You truly are all his tonight. And of course, you don't dare stop, no matter how shy you get. That's why Jay locked the door before any of this happened, so you can let as loose as he needs you to.

He thrusts hard into you, propping one of your legs over your shoulder. The pain is beautiful, hurting in the way you need it to every single night, in every single place.

"Jay.. f-fuck! P-Please..!" You beg. You don't know what for, but you do anyways. After all, the way his member slides in and out of you so perfectly, like a sensual caress to your insides and a roar of pleasure at the same time, you don't care about anything except for him right now.

Jay looks up at you, a tense grunt escaping his lips as he gasps, eyes rolling backwards for a split second before he regains composure. "Fuck, M/n. You're so fucking beautiful... I'm gonna fucking cum..." He growls, leaning in to meet your lips in a wet, sloppy kiss.

"Cum inside me, Jay. P-Please.." You moan, and in response, you get one back from Jay. It's a mix of submissive and dominant, yet still so strapping and masculine. Whatever it is, it makes your cock twitch with anticipation and arousal. It builds up an intense passion and longing for him, and you either need to hear that sound again or need to cum right now, because he's making you so horny.

"Oh, I'll fucking cum inside you alright. You just sit there and take it like the slut you are." He replies, delivering a firm slap to your lean ass. You let out a loud moan, and wonder if anyone heard. But truly, you don't care. You just have to reach to your climax.

"Oh fuck, M/n...!" Jay groans, delivering a few more thrusts with a newfound intensity as what must be adrenaline kicks in. You wince as he pounds into you, feeling a pain in your lower back as he essentially starts folding you.

Then before you know it, you and Jay start releasing at the same time. Frantically. Intensely.

The both of you moan into each other, gasping and grunting as you juice each other out as best as you can, lips tangling in a flame that seals the passion of the moment just minutes ago.

Jay places a few more kisses, less lustful, and more romantic, on your lips after you finish. He hunches over you, trying his hardest to catch his breath as he pulls out.

You relax, legs finally free of tension as they quiver from your tryst. That was fucking incredible.

"You know what, M/n?" Jay asked as he sits on his knees in fatigue, still in between you.

"Y-Yeah...?" You ask, still regaining composure.

"You're still so fucking beautiful." He says, flashing that same iconic smile of his. You let out a flustered scoff.

"Thanks. That was... that was pretty good." You reply.

"I know, right?" Jay smiles, the two of you breaking into soft laughs. "We should do this more often, huh?"

"Like... hook up?" You ask.

"Uh... well, I meant collabs." Jay chuckles, a bit caught off guard.

"Oh shit. No, no, I didn't mean to-" You start, another blush rising to your cheeks.

"No, no. Calm down. I was actually gonna suggest the hookup thing after I said we should collab." He smiles, holding your forearms to reassure you.

"Oh." You reply, throwing your head back in a wry, exhausted, but nevertheless content relief.

"Yeah." Jay laughs, eyes slim with glee. "Alright, let's get the fuck up." He declares, helping you up.

You get up, a wince escaping your lips as your ass begins to feel extremely sore. You didn't even wanna think of how it'd feel tomorrow.

"Pass me my shirt." Jay asks, holding out a hand as he put his now softened cock back in his pants. Like you thought before, he didn't need them at all.

As the two of you get dressed and laugh about how you surely have to shower when you get home, you see how the whole venue at this point is basically empty. When the time for you two to go your separate ways arrives, you exchange numbers, and Jay rakes your body just once more with his eyes as you head off.

"Catch you round, 'kay, M/n?" He holds a hand up as a greeting.

"For sure." You nod, offering a small smile before you walk off. You did well today.

As you walk out the venue, and the cool air of the pitch black sky hits you, you're able to take a breath and reflect as you make your way to your car.

What a fantastic fucking night.

[landoughnut]

The Williams Rule

♡ masterlist - request

♡ pairing - carlos sainz x fem!reader

♡ summary - carlos finally wins over the teams chief strategist after way too many attempts asking you out

♡ warnings - simp/desperate/persistant carlos, flluffff

♡ w/c & a/n - 1.6k | posting this here because im so sad for Carlos 💔

"No."

"But—"

"Still no."

"You didn't even let me finish!"

You look up from your laptop to find Carlos Sainz giving you his best puppy-dog eyes, leaning against your desk in the Williams garage. It's a look that probably works wonders on most people, but you've built up an immunity. Mostly.

"Let me guess," you say, trying not to smile. "You were about to invite me to dinner. Again."

He grins, unashamed. "Actually, I was going to suggest breakfast this time. You know, mix it up a little."

"Carlos."

"What? Breakfast is very professional. People have business breakfasts all the time."

You give him your best unimpressed look, the one you've perfected after two years as William's chief strategy analyst. "And would this be a business breakfast?"

"It could be," he says hopefully. "We could discuss... race strategy?"

"We do that every day. Right here. In the garage. Where we work."

He drops into the chair beside your desk, and you pretend not to notice how good he looks in his race suit, sleeves tied around his waist. It's unfair, really, how someone can be both adorable and devastatingly handsome at the same time.

"You know," he says conversationally, "most people would be flattered that their driver keeps asking them out."

"Most people don't have to maintain professional relationships with their drivers."

"Ah, but I'm not just any driver. I'm your favorite driver."

You snort. "Charles is my favorite driver."

"You wound me, mi corazón." He clutches his chest dramatically. "After all we've been through?"

"All we've been through is you interrupting my work to ask me out seventeen times—"

"Twenty-three times," he corrects.

"You're keeping count?"

His smile turns softer, more genuine. "Of course I am. I'm hoping you'll say yes before we reach fifty."

Something warm flutters in your chest, but you squash it down. "Carlos..."

"I know, I know. The Williams rule." He sighs. "'No dating within the team.' But rules are made to be broken, no?"

"Says the man who got a penalty last race for track limits."

"That was different! The wind—"

"Sainz!" James' voice cuts through the garage. "Stop distracting my best strategist and get to your engineering briefing!"

Carlos stands with exaggerated reluctance. "This isn't over," he warns you playfully.

"It never is with you," you call after him, fighting a smile as he walks backward, still watching you until he nearly trips over a tire.

Emma, your assistant, slides into the seat Carlos vacated. "You know," she says thoughtfully, "the Williams rule isn't actually written anywhere."

"Don't you start."

"I'm just saying, have you seen the way he looks at you when you're explaining race scenarios? Like you're explaining the secrets of the universe instead of tire degradation data."

You feel your cheeks heat up. "He's just... intense about racing."

"Right. That's definitely it. Nothing to do with how he brings you coffee every morning—"

"He brings the whole strategy team coffee!"

"—or how he only sits next to you in briefings—"

"That's because I give the best feedback!"

"—or how he literally lights up every time you walk into a room."

You bury your face in your hands. "I hate you."

"No you don't," she says cheerfully. "You hate that I'm right."

The problem is, she kind of is. You've been fighting this attraction to Carlos since your first day at Williams, when he'd introduced himself by accidentally spilling espresso all over your carefully prepared notes and spent the next hour helping you recreate them, making you laugh despite your initial irritation.

Twenty-three asks later (apparently), and it's getting harder to say no.

Later that afternoon, you're focused on simulation data when a sandwich appears on your desk.

"You missed lunch," Carlos says simply.

You blink at the sandwich, then at him. "I had lunch."

"Coffee is not lunch."

"I'm fine, I'll eat later—"

"You get grumpy when you don't eat properly," he says, pulling up his chair again. "Remember Monaco? When you threw a pen at Alex?"

"He deserved it! He wouldn't stop talking about how cereal is a soup."

Carlos unwraps the sandwich and holds it out expectantly. You take it with a sigh, knowing he won't leave until you eat.

"This doesn't count as a date," you warn him.

His eyes crinkle with amusement. "Sharing a sandwich in the garage while you pretend not to like me? No, this is just Tuesday."

You take a bite to avoid responding, then make an embarrassing sound of appreciation. It's your favorite – prosciutto and mozzarella from that little deli down the street.

"You remembered," you say softly.

"I remember everything about you." He says it so simply, like it's the most natural thing in the world. "Like how you take your coffee, and which pen is your lucky pen, and how you scrunch your nose when you're concentrating really hard..."

"Carlos..."

"And how you always say my name like that when you're trying not to smile."

You throw your napkin at him. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Probably." He makes no move to leave. "But I like it here better."

The garage bustles around you, mechanics and engineers going about their work, but somehow Carlos has this way of making it feel like you're in your own little bubble.

"Twenty-four," he says suddenly.

"What?"

"Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?"

You should say no. You always say no. But...

"Carlos, I—"

"Before you say no," he interrupts quickly, "just... think about it? Really think about it. Because yes, maybe dating within the team is complicated. But isn't everything in F1 complicated? We manage million-dollar cars going three hundred kilometers per hour. We coordinate hundreds of people across different countries. We deal with rain and red flags and rival teams."

He leans forward, and his eyes are so earnest it almost hurts. "But we do it all because some things are worth the complexity. And this?" He gestures between you two. "This feels worth it to me."

Your heart is doing that fluttery thing again. "That was a good speech."

"I practiced it in the mirror."

You laugh despite yourself. "Of course you did."

"Is it working?"

You look at him – really look at him. At the hope in his eyes, the nervous way he's playing with his watch strap, the soft curl falling over his forehead that you've always wanted to brush back.

"If," you say slowly, "and this is a big if... if I said yes, what exactly would you have planned?"

His whole face lights up. "Well, I know this amazing little restaurant in Maranello. Very private, incredible pasta. We could talk about anything except work. I could tell you about growing up in Madrid, you could tell me about your family. Maybe afterwards we could walk through the old town, get gelato..."

"You've really thought about this, haven't you?"

"Only about a hundred times." He grins. "So..."

You take a deep breath. "If – and I mean if – I said yes... you have to promise me something."

"Anything."

"If it doesn't work out, we stay professional. The team comes first."

"Always," he agrees immediately. "Although it will work out."

"Oh? You're that confident?"

His smile turns softer. "I've never been more sure of anything."

And maybe it's the way he's looking at you, or maybe it's Emma's words from earlier echoing in your head, or maybe you're just tired of pretending you don't feel this too.

"Okay," you say quietly.

He blinks. "Okay?"

"Yes. To dinner. Tomorrow night."

For a moment he just stares at you, like he can't quite believe it. Then the biggest smile breaks across his face, the one that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

"Really? You're not joking?"

"Don't make me change my mind, Sainz."

He jumps up, practically bouncing with excitement. "You won't regret this, I promise. I'm going to plan the perfect evening. It will be amazing. You're going to fall so in love with me—"

"Carlos!"

"Right, sorry, getting ahead of myself." But he's still beaming. "Tomorrow night then? Eight o'clock?"

You nod, fighting your own smile. "Eight o'clock."

He backs away, still grinning, and this time he actually does trip over a tire. You hear him apologizing to the mechanics in rapid Spanish, but he doesn't stop smiling.

Emma appears as if by magic. "Finally!" she exclaims. "I thought I was going to have to lock you two in the simulator room."

"It's just dinner," you mutter, but you can feel yourself blushing.

"Sure it is." She hands you a file with a knowing look. "Just like it was 'just coffee' when he started bringing it to you every morning, and 'just being nice' when he waited two hours at the track in Malaysia because your flight was delayed."

"Whose side are you on?"

"The side of love, obviously." She dodges your swat. "And maybe the side of the garage betting pool."

"The what?"

But she's already walking away, humming what sounds suspiciously like the Italian national anthem.

You turn back to your work, trying to focus on lap times and tire strategies, but your mind keeps drifting to tomorrow night. To dinner and walks and gelato and the way Carlos looks at you like you're his favorite victory.

Your phone buzzes with a text:

Carlos: Twenty-four was my lucky number anyway 😉

You bite your lip to hold back a smile.

You: Don't push your luck, Sainz

Carlos: Too late. Already the luckiest man in Maranello 💙

And despite all your rules and reservations, you can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, you're pretty lucky too.

After all, some things are worth breaking the rules for.

[markleessodalite]

NCT Dream as Girl Dads

Headcanon: what would nct dream be like as girl dads?

content warnings: none that i can think of, its literally just how i think the members would behave if they had daughters so it should be fine unless you've got daddy issues (which is valid because so do i lol)

word count: 840

Mark:

Mark is completely enamored with anything his daughter does, whether it be big or small. Mark thinks that any little thing she does is a sign of who she’s going to be in life. She giggled at him when she was an infant? She must have a great sense of humor! She made him a fake lunch with her kitchen playset? She’s got the mind of a chef! She gets excited for the ride to visit grandma? She’s gonna travel the world one day! Mark as a dad can be summed up in one word– enthusiastic. His train of thought may be a bit idealistic (just because she likes playing on the swingset doesn’t mean she’ll be a pilot) but at least you know he will happily support her in whatever she does.

Renjun:

Gifts, gifts, and more gifts. Renjun’s daughter will always be dressed to the nines, even before she’s old enough to eat on her own– he’s got designer bibs at the ready. If she wants a dollhouse that’s 4 feet tall and takes up more space than her bed, she knows dad will get it for her (you told him to at least save it until her birthday, but he couldn’t wait). Renjun doesn’t see the harm in spoiling his little girl. Why would you not want to treat your daughter like a princess? However, Renjun is certainly not a pushover; his number one rule is bad attitude = no gifts, and he doesn’t tolerate brats.

Jeno:

Jeno is his daughter’s number one protector. No one is going to hurt his little girl on his watch. If any playground bullies push her out of the sandbox, it takes everything Jeno has to not lose it on the kid’s parents. In fact, he’s already… unpopular with the neighborhood parents, after he glared at a kid a little too hard for catching an attitude with his baby. It’ll get annoying when she’s a teenager and every boy at school is terrified to ask her on a date, but Jeno will say its good to be selective– because there’s nothing that would break his heart more than seeing his little girl in pain. 

Haechan:

Haechan is his daughter’s best friend. As soon as she was old enough to walk, he was planning all sorts of fun father-daughter activities. He’s gonna take her to the carnival, and the water park, and the mud flats, and the fairgrounds, and anywhere else that his daughter might want to go. Of course he’s going to raise her on good music too, and one of her favorite memories will be going to her very first concert with her dad. As she gets older it might take him time to understand that teenagers need privacy– she’s not so little anymore, and he can’t expect her to tell him everything she thought and felt like she used to. But that doesn’t mean he’ll ever stop being his babygirl’s best friend.

Jaemin:

Jaemin has very high standards for his precious girl. She’s the daughter of Na Jaemin after all– she only deserves the best! He makes sure she gets home cooked meals (and only the finest restaurants if they choose to go out), he takes advice from Renjun to get her the finest clothes, he only gets her bedsheets with a specific thread count and skincare products with specific ingredients. He may go a bit overboard sometimes, like when he tries to forbid her from seeing certain friends or from watching certain tv shows, but you know it comes from a place of care. He just wants the best influences for his little angel.

Chenle:

Chenle wants his daughter to be amazing in everything she does. He’s going to encourage her to pursue anything, as long as she’s pursuing something. He’ll have her enrolled in a variety of clubs and activities, he’ll help her study to get the best grades, he’ll do volunteer work with her so she can experience many different paths her life could take her. Sometimes you have to pull him back a bit when he’s putting a little too much stress on her, but he just sees so much potential in his daughter.

Jisung:

Jisung lets his daughter get away with everything, for better or worse. Jisung is not much of a disciplinarian… and it drives you a little insane. He just hates seeing his baby with tears in her eyes, even though you’ve explained that she’ll be fine in 5 minutes and move on to something else. She took a toy from another kid? Well… maybe we should just buy her that toy instead of scolding her. She’s refusing to lay down at bedtime? Well what if we just let her watch a movie with us? Jisung just wants his little girl to always be happy, and turning the dial from sweet dad to mean dad kills him. But he knows its his responsibility to raise his daughter, not just fawn over how cute she is. So he will turn into mean dad when he needs to. Begrudgingly.