#I really should have learnt my lines…

[mrtelevisionlover]

Chat I just spent the whole day reading avatar fanfiction this was not a productive day 🙏

[neverendingford]

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[beeseverywhen]

Oversharing time:

Just remembered years ago when I was working in a pretty high up office block and they were having to write a fire plan cause my knees are pretty resistant to stairs and management's answer was just that I wait in the burning building until a fireman came to get me, to which I was pretty much like 'yeah I don't think so. I'll make do with the stairs.'

They were really touchy about this and were like 'we need to account for your disability, we can't leave you to do stairs by yourself when we know you might not be able to' so they wanted me to pick a 'buddy' as in a colleague that would evacuate by my side. So i pick 2 of my friends (one as a backup) and the manager is still like 'but what if your leg isn't working that day what do we do' and she's also like 'I didn't even know you knew him, why is he your first pick?' So I'm like, look off record, I've picked buddy 1 for a reason. He isn't my closest work friend but I do know he's capable of carrying me down the stairs if necessary and the manager is like, have you asked him if he can do that? And I'm like. No. I know he can. Don't sweat it.

And she's going look, I know you're small but you can't just assume that any man is capable of carrying you down multiple flights of stairs, he could have a weak back and I'm like, look I 100% know he can carry me, trust me. She kept questioning it until I was eventually like 'look I know he can because we are friends outside of work and he has carried me, easily, before' and tried to shut down the convo.

This unfortunately seemed to raise more questions which was awkward because in reality we were not particularly close friends in or outside of work, it was just that I'd been lowkey fucking him on and off for years (in that messed up early 20s, we could make each other worse kind of way) and knew that he could very easily fuck me standing up for an extended period. We were not friends because we didn't particularly like each other lol but I did trust that he would not leave anyone to burn in a fire, and that carrying me down those flights of stairs would be no sweat off his back

[captain-huggy-bear]

"Can- Can you come over please?" (I believe prompt list 1 number 80?) with whoever you're inspired for please 😊 thank you! - em

Em, it was giving soft boy Luke who's maybe feeling shitty after a bad game, so I hope you like it. First time writing Luke so I'm super sorry if it doesn't feel right for him (as we think of him because obvs we don't know him but still) Also I like how I was like let's write something short and then...just kept writing...😂 Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

You'd been friends with Luke Hughes for almost as long as he'd been in New Jersey, both of you new to the city at the time had stumbled into each other quite literally one wintery afternoon. Your coffee going all over his hoodie, his doughnut squishing chocolate icing over your sweater. You'd expected him to yell, instead you learnt that day how utterly sweet and kind Luke Hughes was. He replaced your coffee and refused to let you buy him a new doughnut, but did let you invite him over so you could put some stain remover on his hoodie.

You might be thinking, 'are you crazy? Inviting a strange man to your apartment?', but you can only explain your risk through two pieces of information: 1) You knew roughly who he was. You weren't a fan of his by any means but you followed Hockey and had heard about the newest addition to the Devils, so you at least knew he wasn't a criminal, 2) Luke Hughes had been wearing snoopy socks and something about that had screamed 'non-threatening'.

Looking back it was probably slightly insane on your part, but it bagged you a close friend who you may or may not have had a massive crush on, so you couldn't really say you regretted risking it.

It wasn't unusual for Luke to phone you after a game, more often than not you got a quick phone call or a few texts sent through while he was out celebrating or commisserating with the team, often being invited out even when he knew you weren't much for late nights out on the town.

It was unusual though for that phone call to come in at 1 in the morning while you were sleeping.

You're groggy and half awake, hand patting the bedside table until you grip your phone, Luke's ringtone blarring through the speakers only because he was one of your few exceptions. One of a handful of people who could call you after 11pm without being sent straight to voicemail, the others being your family.

"Lukey? It's..." You stop to squint at your alarm clock, "1:41 in the morning, what's wrong?" You knew the game had ended late, but Luke should have been in bed by now or he should have been out partying with Jack and the boys, definitely not phoning you. You half expected him to be drunk on the other end of the line, maybe having phoned you while out with the team.

Instead his breath is shaky on the other end of the line, voice raspy like he's been crying and that's what has you sitting upright and swinging your legs out of bed before he even finishes his question.

"Can- Can you come over please?" His voice is scratchy and strained, a rasp that sounds defeated. You don't even considering getting changed from your pajamas, you just throw a jacket on from your closet.

"Yeah, yeah, of course, what's wrong?"

"Just...just come over please, angel" You're quick timing it as you shove your feet in a pair of shoes and grab your keys off the side, locking your apartment door behind you. It didn't matter to you that it was nearly 2am or that you hadn't brushed your hair or that you were half-asleep, all that mattered was Luke and the way he sounded like the world might be just a little too much for him right now.

"Okay, okay, want me to stay on the line?"

"No, just...drive safe?" You pause in the hallway, heart hurting at his concern, that even now when he's begging for your help he cares that you're safe.

"Yeah, course, Lu, i'm leaving right now, sweetheart." He lets out a shuddering breath on the line, right before he hangs up and you're certain you might cry because God, Luke shouldn't sound like that, so utterly defeated, so fragile.

You do your best to honour his request on the drive to his and Jack's apartment, even as you want to break a hundred traffic laws just to get there sooner, but you don't. It doesn't take long, but ten minutes feels like one hundred when all you want is to be see Luke and make sure he's okay.

He's at the door from the first knock and you don't say anything, just take him in. His tall form hunched at the shoulders like he's trying to hide within his hoodie, hood pulled over his head and eyes red rimmed, blotchy. There are dark, deep circles beneath his eyes and his lip is bruised and split, a few neatly placed stitches holding it together.

You don't say anything, just step forward and wrap him in your arms as best you can, tiptoeing to press your chin to his shoulder, arms tight around him as if you can protect him from whatever is going on in his head.

He grasps as you like you're a lifeline, fingers digging into your jacket, face pressed so tight to the crook of your neck that you're certain he'll fuse there.

He doesn't protest when you pull him into his apartment, door slamming shut. Doesn't protest when you pull him to his room, asking where Jack is, only to get a short clipped reply of 'club'. Doesn't protest when you sit him on his bed and join him, shoes being kicked off. It's not until you try to pull away from him that he really seems to come to life, hands grasping you firmer, pulling you back, "Don't go, please don't go..."

"'m not going anywhere, Lu, it's okay..." You pull back just enough that you can pull his hood back, fingers carding through his brown curls gently like he might break. "What happened?"

"Just needed you..." His face presses back into your shoulder as your fingers work through his hair like it's a perfectly normal thing to say to your best friend, like he didn't call because he had a shit game, because he doesn't want to talk about it."

"Lu...talk to me, baby"

There's a stark silence, broken only by a shaky breathe that comes from Luke as if the idea of talking is enough to make him cry for the second time that night. "I'm...i'm not good enough for the team, did a shit job tonight and we lost...it's my fault. Played like shit."

"What did Jack say?" You're gentle with it, soft voice, soft fingers on the nape of his neck. It's silly, he knows he's being dramatic, he also knows that it's not a friend thing to do. Knows he wouldn't call any of his other friends at near 2am because he needs them, knows he wouldn't beg for their fingers in his hair to sooth him or feel better just by the smell of their laundry detergent and shampoo. Luke knows he called you because he loves you, pretty sure he loved you the moment you excitedly showed him you'd gotten the coffee stain out of his UMIC hoodie.

"I was being too hard on myself, that it wasn't the 'Luke Hughes show'." He immitates Jack's voice, a pouty sort of tone riding his voice because he knows his brother is right even if he refused to sit moping with him and went out drinking instead.

"He's right. Hockey is a team sport, Luke, you aren't even on the ice the entire time! You do not get to decide that you're the reason a game is won or lost, you don't get to shoulder that."

"But.." Your palms cup his face, pulling him up to look at you. Your face is dead serious brows furrowed, lips pursed.

"No, you're a good hockey player. They picked you to play for them because of what you bring to the table and maybe you didn't play your best tonight , but you deserve to be on the team. You can't always be at 100." Your thumbs brush his cheeks under his eyes, like you might be able to wipe away the dark bags there. He looks worn, exhausted, tears just welling in those green eyes of his.

You're not entirely sure he believes you, "If I said I wasn't good enough because I had a bad day at work, what would you say to me?"

"To shut up and stop being mean to yourself..." Luke frowns at you like you're insane for even suggesting something like that, and it's what makes you smile for the first time that night, as if to say I told you so.

"Exactly, so stop being mean to yourself, Lu. You're amazing, i'm always in awe of how you skate..." You brush a curl from his eyes and watch them flutter closed slightly, throat tightening a little because you know this isn't the way you're supposed to feel about your best friend.

"Really?"

"Really..." You watch him carefully, the way he just leans more into your hands like he trusts you entirely to hold him up, the deep swelling of his lip, the beauty marks across his cheeks. "What do you need from me, right now?"

He takes a moment, like the words are stuck on the tip of his tongue whether unsure of how to ask or worried to make things weird. Both of you always toeing the line between friends and something decidedly more romantic.

"Can...can you just hold me? Just stay the night?" He blinks up at you with such big sweet eyes that you're not sure anyone would be able to refuse him, so you don't.

"I can do that."

You treat him delicately, like he's not a nearly 200 pound hockey player that regularly gets body slammed against boards and ice, who's covered in bruises and currently sporting a split lip. You pull him to lie down with you, curling around him like a protective blanket, pulling his face back into the crook of your neck, legs twisting with his. It's definitely not what friends do, but it's what he needs, so he grips you back tight, presses his face firmly into your neck and pulls your leg over his hip to be as close as possible.

You don't move more than the brush of fingers through his hair or down his arm, across his back. Even when you can hear soft snores, the sign of him having fallen asleep, you don't move because as much as Luke said he need this, you kind of need this too.

[josephquinnswhore]

where you go, I go - stalker joel miller x female reader AU.

summary: joel hasn’t been the same since ex his wife abandoned him and his daughter, but he’s been watching you for months.. you’re the perfect replacement.

word count: 1.1k

content warning: extreme stalking, harassment, unhealthy infatuation, murder, brief mention of potential kidnapping, unhealthy idealism, manipulation, gaslighting.

Today was really not the day for this, your complete lack of intolerance to bullshit had reached its capacity.

But this had been happening every attempt for the past week, a relatively new and frankly.. abruptly confusing issue.

The button on your key fob for your car makes the indicators flash orange each attempt to pry the boot open. With a click or the button, it’s supposed to open the boot automatically.

But your car doesn’t do that, no. It insists on a one armed wrestling match while you have to click the button simultaneously.

Thanks to Joel, the man that has been absolutely infatuated with you for months, since you’d hired them for a minor job, just a custom order bookshelf. Not something the men would typically accept but Joel was absolutely infatuated with you.

Since then he hadn’t ever been far from where you were. Even if that meant showing up to your house at night and sabotaging apart of your car.

It’s hot out. These Texan summers were no joke and with no breeze, the beads of sweat meticulously lined upon your forehead, not one inch of it wasn’t covered in sweat.

“Come on!” With a grunt of frustration, you attempt to wrestle the boot open again, pushing it down to try and get the latch unstuck.

He watches on as you struggle with the boot of your car for the third time this week alone, how you managed to live your life without a man to take care of you was a real mystery to him.

As amusing as it is to watch you struggle, he figures he needs to approach before some other man offers a helping hand. The last thing Joel needs is to bury another goddamn prick on your behalf. You should be thanking Joel, really.

But he understands, you don’t know. You’re vulnerable, completely none the wiser to the fact that a man that mowed your lawn once a fortnight, had managed to peep through your bathroom window and caught a glance of your bare skin while you were showering.

Unaware that anyone was watching you groan again in frustration, about ready to pull your hair out. “Why the hell is this happening to me today?!”

“Excuse me, miss?” A well recognised Southern, Texan accent calls out to you with a hint of amusement and curiosity. Turning around, the man was closer than you’d expected.

“You need something?” Perhaps you were snappier than you should’ve been, and he raises a singular eyebrow at you.

“I’m sorry. I just.. need help with this. Pain in the ass. I have cold stuff and it’s hot as shit out here!” You ramble incessantly to the man who just tilts his head.

As he steps forward. “Mind if I give it a try?”

“Good luck to you—“ before you could even finish the scornful sentence the boot was open.

“How did you do that?” Disbelief wavering in your tone.

He shrugs, folding his arms over his chest, the shirt tightens and the muscles in his arms bulge. A fitting distraction to keep your eyes away from the fact that he had just sneakily attached a tracking tab onto your car. Underneath the number plate.

Now, he already knew your home address. But he had to make sure that you weren’t seeing anyone.

You were certain he had caught you staring. “These older models have a few minor issues, I learnt that working on my own truck, I suppose.”

Now that were true. But he wouldn’t really tell you the reason he knew how to fix this particular issue.

“What’s your name anyway?”

He starts packing your groceries into the now open boot, a few bags in each hand at a time.

The veins in his forearms protrude out of the skin.

“Joel. Joel Miller.”

Once he’s finished packing your groceries away, he closes the boot. “Shouldn’t have no more issues with it.”

You raise a brow. “You’re not gonna ask my name?”

He doesn’t want to, because he already knows it.

He almost laughs, almost. “What is your name, miss?”

When you reply with your name, he doesn’t at all seem phased, which was odd. “You kinda look familiar, actually.”

He keeps a calm expression, looking around the carpark as he gives a warm smile. “I live around here. Do contracting for a lot of houses around town.”

He could’ve felt his gut drop in that moment, maybe you’d figured him out. Perhaps you were about to call him out on what he’s been doing, sneaking around your goddamn house at night, sabotaging the boot so that it wouldn’t open properly.

Perhaps if that were the worst case scenario, he would just have to whack you on the head and shove you into the boot of your little car and drive you to his house. Chain you up and explain that he’s not a bad guy, he just cares for you. No one else cares for you like he does.

Thankfully, it doesn't come to that, because you’re clueless, really. It’s sad to see that you don’t protect yourself. If Joel could get away with all of this unseen. Imagine the real creeps that would take advantage of you.

Joel had been creating all of these minor issues for you, so that you would perhaps seek him out if he happened to.. by chance.. be nearby.

Come to think of it, there was a white pickup that had some sort of business name on the side of it. Been around your street a few times this week, actually. Perhaps he’s got work in the area?

Ain’t really your business to ask though.

“Yeah, I suppose. Thanks anyway, for this.. I should get home now. Don’t want all the dairy and meat to spoil.”

By now you really should be leaving.. but you feel compelled to give the helpful man your number.

“Maybe I can thank you properly one day for lending a hand.”

You quickly scribble it down on the back of your long docket and hand it to him.

“I’ll contact you,” albeit a simple response, he vows to you.

He takes the half crumpled paper with your number and nods with a warm smile, watching you as you get into your car and thank him again through the window before driving off.

A grim smile on his wicked lips as he watches the car leave the parking lot, knowing that even now, as you left, he would know where you were.

Because where you were, Joel was always following close behind. He did, after all.. think you were perfect. The missing piece of the puzzle to his family. The right woman to give his daughter a caring, loving mother. And you—would be his wife. Joel was taking all the steps necessary to ensure it.

He would have he perfect family. He would have you.

Finally, with the number in hand, he was one step closer.

[rynwritesreid]

Pls can you write a SUPER angsty Spencer x reader where your phone dies whilst you’re out one night and he gets annoyed at you and starts becoming all protective and condescending and you’re like ‘you do realise, everyday when you walk out of that door you’re not guaranteed to return home so do you really want to spend our time like this?’

ILY

A/N: I absolutely loved this request, and I hope my writing does it justice. and ILY two. Even though I write smut the most, I absolutely love angst, reading and writing it, honestly break my heart please! Also, two posts in two days? Is it because I have a week of work? Yes. Expect more fics from me this week. Love you all 💕

Summary: what anon had asked for, but I added just a lil more to the argument, hehe.

Content: Fem!reader. Mentions of Haley and Will. Reader claims Spencer would put her in more danger than she could ever put herself in. Mention of drink spiking (reader knows all the signs). Over protecting Spencer.

Masterlist|requests are open| Navigation

You knew that Spencer was protective over you because of job, you couldn’t really begin to imagine all the things he had witnessed, but sometimes it was just overbearing. You knew how to protect yourself; you knew what to do if you believed someone was following you and you knew all the signs that a drink had been spiked. 

But Spencer had set a firm rule for you, when you went out you always messaged him every half an hour to let him know you were safe and you always had your location on. But because you had already had a hectic day, and forgotten to charge your phone, it had sadly died while you were on a girl’s night.

“Why did you stop answering my texts and calls?” Spencer’s heart raced as he tried to reach you. He knew the dangers that lurked in the shadows, the monsters that preyed on the unsuspecting. As each passing minute felt like an eternity, his mind raced with a thousand fearful scenarios.

Spencer's relief at seeing you walk through the door was quickly overshadowed by the anger that simmered beneath the surface. As you met his gaze, you could see the storm brewing in his eyes, a mix of fear and frustration that threatened to spill over.

"I'm sorry, Spencer," you began, knowing that your apology might not be enough to quell his rising temper. "My phone died, and I lost track of time. I should have been more careful."

His jaw tightened as he took in your words, the worry lines on his forehead deepening. "Do you have any idea what could have happened? The risks you were taking by not checking in. I can't lose you; do you understand that?”

“Spencer, you won’t lose me, it was just an honest mistake. Okay?” you tried to stay calm, you knew he had every right to be like this. 

“It doesn’t matter if it was an honest mistake,” Spencer interrupted, his voice laced with emotion. “I can't bear the thought of something happening to you. I need to know that you’re safe, always.” His eyes searched yours, pleading for understanding.

“Omg Spencer. Do you realise that every time you walk out of that door you’re not guaranteed to return home.” You paused for a brief moment, he was honestly acting like you didn’t know how to take care of yourself “and if I am being honest your job puts me in more danger than I ever could put myself in. Look what happened to Will, all because of JJ’s job, or Haley. If Hotch didn’t work for the FBI, Haley would still be alive.”

“Don’t you dare bring Haley or Will up.” Spencer's voice was sharp, he couldn’t believe you were bringing up something that happened to his closest friends’ husband, and his boss’s ex-wife. His hands clenched into tight fists, the mention of his friends' tragedies cutting through him like a knife.

“Why not? Don’t you like hearing how your job could end up with me being murdered, tortured, or kidnapped? I have learnt how to defend myself Spencer, so do you really want to spend our time arguing over things like this?” you couldn't help the frustration creeping into your voice, the tension between you and Spencer palpable in the air. You both stood there, chests rising and falling with emotions too strong to contain.

Spencer's expression softened slightly as he realized the fear and anger in your eyes mirrored his own. He knew he couldn't control every situation, but the urge to protect you was ingrained in his very being.

"I know you're capable, I do," Spencer started, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable. "But it's hard for me to accept that I can't always keep you safe. My job... it's a constant reminder of what could go wrong."

You reached out and touched his arm gently, feeling the tension slowly ebb away. "I understand, Spencer. And I appreciate everything you do to keep me safe. But we can't let this fear control us. We have to trust each other."

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[pearlzier]

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ 𝜗℘ㆍ nerd.ᐟmatt ☆ nerd.ᐟreader ，✿

"POPULAR, YOU'RE GONNA BE POPULAR," you'd sing when you were doing absolutely anything. it was no shock to anyone that you adore musicals, you're an absolute theatre fiend. since you were a little kid, it's been your form of escapism, being able to transform into a different person on stage instead of how sheepish you usually are. matt personally loved how confident you were infront of an audience and so passionately speaking the lines you'd worked so hard to perfect.

after the inarguable disaster that was the mean girls adaptation (you'd quite literally sobbed into his arms about how bad it was) you two were pretty sceptical about a wicked movie adaptation.

"you really like uh.." matt's watching you, as best as he can, anyway, considering the fact that he's driving the two of you towards the cinema. his eyes flutter back to the road, hand working over the wheel as he holds onto it. "uh.. what's her name, the woman who played glinda on broadway—" he drums his fingers against the wheel in thought.

you adored the original wicked on broadway, you'd practically learnt the entire score, and you were so serious when it came to elphaba and glinda. literally, you and your bestfriend had gone as them one time for halloween before it was trendy to do so—the 'og's, shall we say. you loved many musicals, but wicked would always have a soft spot in your heart. having gone to see it live, it was a memory you'd never forget.

you were like, the most qualified ever to judge whether a wicked movie adapation was actually as good as it should be.

well, matt thought you were, anyway. he held you in extremely high regard.

he doesn't even get to finish before you're interjecting, "kristin chenoweth!" causing a smile to spread across his lips. there you go again, so eager to talk about musicals. he only ever sees you this happy when you're talking about the things you like or when you're with him.

"kristin chenoweth," he agrees quietly, watching the way the gleam in your eyes twinkles as you speak. he's in awe, pure awe, at how perfect you are. he'll get better at voicing it, he's sure of it. he's just.. a little overwhelmed by how much he loves you.

"she's amazing, matt," you insist, adjusting the tote bag sat in your lap. nothing could describe the amount of energy you have right now, you're practically bouncing off the inside of the car with joy right now. this might be one of the best moments of your life if you're completely honest with yourself.

"this is gonna be amazing, 'm sure of it. the marketing team are working overtime for this." matt might actually cry if he has to drink down another glinda themed robinsons drink—he won't, he'll brave it for you, but still.

matt isn't exactly into musicals the way you are, he usually plays video games, watches movies, and gets so hype over them it's crazy. though, you get it, your interests make you just as feral. but this is a movie musical, so you think he'll be into it as well. wicked was inescapable, his entire for you page was just glinda and elphaba and he wasn't even mad about it. couldn't be, especially with how happy it made you.

it was like when hamilton was trending, oh, god, you'd performed like seven one woman performances of the musical that he's sure he can quote the entire thing by now.

the two of you are quiet for a little more, the original broadway cast singing away in the background as it plays through the car speaker from your phone, 'till the car comes to a stop outside of the cinema. "we're here," he murmurs, killing the engine once he makes sure his parking's perfect.

"oh my god, matt! we're here. what if i faint? what if i vomit? oh god, i won't get to see the movie if i faint or vomit, will i? oh no, uh, okay, i need, uh.. oh—"

"hey, hey, relax," matt says, gently, wanting you to chill out a little. he offers a sheepish little smile and he murmurs, "uh.. we can go get the themed popcorn buckets and you can throw up in there if you want to.. in style.." that makes you giggle and you nod, practically ripping off your seatbelt so that the two of you don't waste any more time inside the car. he has to quickly get out to join you, making sure that you don't run off on your own.

as the two of you walk, his fingers awkwardly twitch at his side as he wishes to hold your hand, but he's a little apprehensive to. though, he doesn't know why he's so apprehensive about it, the two of you are dating, holding hands is a simple thing. but.. he is.

"wicked's real popular," he murmurs, glancing around. "it's real amazing," you add in return. the two of you make your way inside the cinema together, and you glance at eachother for a moment. he smiles, you smile, and it sends a surge of warmth through both of you. leaning against his shoulder, you watch as he pays for the two tickets, and even more heat surges through you at the fact you're one hundred percent going to be seeing wicked now. matt likes how happy it makes you. it makes him almost as happy, he's sure.

and you notice this, after a little. there's a bit of a queue—wicked was so popular—and you end up interlacing your fingers with his own. it makes a heat flush to his cheeks and he offers a smile to you, shuffling closer to you and pressing by your side a little just to make sure you don't get too cold considering it's getting colder out.

"line's pretty long," he notes quietly, glancing up. you guys are near the front, so it's okay. "mmh, yeah, but we're almost in," you agree, swinging your interlaced hands as you stand beside eachother.

"popcorn buckets?"

"popcorn buckets."

you're a mess when you get out of there. literally, he's got stains on his hoodie from your tears, not that he minded all that much. he'd be a hypocrite otherwise, he's feeling a little teary eyed himself. thrusted against his chest are the various popcorn buckets that you'd bought, as you're currently trying to compose yourself and make sure your pink makeup doesn't run. you'd dressed up in full glinda gear, as best as you could, and he'd gone as elphaba. in your words, he'd given you total wicked witch of the west energy, in the best way.

he mumbles a soft, "you're okay," switching the popcorn buckets to one arm so he could gently rub your arm as the two of you made your way out. a soft smile settles on his lips, just watching you. everyday he's reminded in little moments why he loves you so much. this is definitely one of them. matt quietly leads you out of the screening room, giving smiles to the people working at the cinema, ones who are quiet heartwarmed by your reaction to the movie and how much it clearly meant to you.

"that was just.." matt sighs softly, shaking his head as heat flushes to his cheeks. he shifts his weight a little, gently tugging on you for you to stop. it's just outside of the screening, his eyes meeting yours. your eyes are glossy, gleaming beneath the pink and green lights illuminating you both. "perfect," you finish for him, words wavering a little as you speak. god, you've never enjoyed a movie more. definitely a top ten movie. maybe even for matt, too. he couldn't deny how good it was.

matt nods his head at your words, adding a quiet, "really perfect," you'd one hundred percent be watching the movie a gazillion times after, probably in cinemas, but also definitely on some illegal websites when you got back home. matt'd be joining you, totally. he may not have been a complete musical fan, but he'd get into it for you, definitely.

"i'm like.. a new person after that," you tell him, shuffling closer to him and leaning your head up against his chest. he places the buckets down on the ground beside you two and he tentatively wraps an arm around your middle to bring you up against his chest.

"me too.. might be a musical fan.." a laugh slips past his lips ³and in return you giggle too. a soft sigh escapes you afterwards, head tilting to the side a little. he blinks when you look up at him like that, and the heat floods his cheeks a little more. he's getting warm from all the attention, really. but you're looking up at him like he hung the stars and the moon, and it makes him feel so unbelievably special. his heart's pounding against his chest, literally.

"i.. wanna kiss you," you find yourself saying before you even realise, and matt practically splutters and stammers over his words in return. "oh, uh.. you do? oh," he swallows thickly, glancing down at the ground a moment before he meets your gaze again, nodding his head. he'd been thinking the same exact thing, since.. right now, your lips look like they're coated in pure sugar, all shiny and glossy.

"you can kiss me. i wanna.. wanna kiss you," he mumbles, slowly easing his hand upwards on your back, his lips parting.

you're the one who goes for it, bringing your lips to his in a gentle kiss. he brings you as close as possible with his hand, a dreamy sigh slipping past his lips against your own. you let your hands come up and cradle his jaw, both of your eyes shutting together as you take in the bliss that is the kiss you're sharing. when the two of you part, he's breathless, eyes gleaming in a similar way to yours. "you taste like candy," accurate, considering all the candy you'd been eating during the movie, but he loves it.

you feel a heat come to your face at that, and you glance at the floor sheepishly. "i do?"

matt nods, because yeah, you do. he sweeps his tongue over his bottom lip, tasting the sweetness that you'd left there in the kiss. he's incredibly intoxicated by you, how you taste, how you feel, just.. you. "yeah.." he really wants to do it again, but the realisation that you two had just kissed in public hits him and he ends up burying his head in your hair to try hide himself in some way. "oh my god, we just kissed, in public," you say in realisation.

he's got absolutely no clue where all of this confidence comes from, but he murmurs a breathy, "y'know what's not public?" that makes your eyebrows raise in interest, lashes fluttering a little bit. matt relishes in that expression on your face, just for a moment.

"what is?" you soon ask, brows furrowing now.

"my bedroom," matt wiggles his eyebrows instinctively, and despite your surprise at his forwardness, you laugh. a genuine, soft, laugh. god, you adore him. enough to the point you quickly run behind him as he practically drags you back to the car.

ִ ֹ ★ @deansbite i hope you and our 120+ kids are proud o'me for writin' consistently :3

ִ ֹ ★ @mattybsgroupie, @mattslolita, @stellasturns, @stevelacylovebot, @55sturn, @jetaimevous, @phone4pills, @aesthetixhoe, @venusiers, @chrissdollie, @stvrnmc, @sarosfilms, @sarosfilms, @funkycoloured, @v3nusasgirl, @beridollie, @pr3ttyf4wn, @sincerebabydoll, @cayleeuhithinknott, @j2ss7, @sweetrelieef, @l3sbiancvnt, @beausling, @lovesickgrlsrh0t , @cupiidk1lls, @sofiassaturn ִ ꒱

[jynxpsiche]

About daeho,can you write him being in the game and then meeting gn reader that was like taller than them whehagwgwgwg

OMG SURE BB! <3 so reader is like 6’4’’ (193 cm) a bit taller than our beloved! I implied reader as a foreigner and an aspiring model who got scammed !! Hope you like it! Thx for sending me this request and remember to stay hydrated!! <3 <3

futile insecurities

kang dae-ho (player 388) x gn!reader

🎐. summary: going to South Korea to try becoming a model was the dream that led you there in a foreign country. convinced that you finally found a recruiter you later learnt the truth behind it. so that’s why you decided to call that number and try to win some easy money to get back on track. but even if you felt all the prejudices from others you managed to find someone who appreciated you for who you really were.

🎐. warnings: gender neutral reader, no use of y/n, canon squid game gore and violence, minor swearing, reader is a foreigner, no proofread. English is not my first language!

requests are open !!

Screams and cries.

That was all Dae-ho heard in that fragment of time. People running desperate to somehow save their lives, pleadings and begs leaving their trembling lips hoping to leave that place after what they witnessed.

It should have been easy. An ‘in and out’ situation, you know? Just to gather some easy money to pay off some debts. To start a new decent life.

At least, that’s what Dae-ho thought. And supposedly everybody else, too.

Now they were running for their lives, escaping and avoiding the claws of death.

Shot after shot they fell to the ground not giving any signs of life. Their dull eyes staring off into space. No more light behind those empty gazes.

That unbearable sound of constant shooting overpowered the unstoppable screams and the former marine forced himself to stand still and to stay froze on the spot.

However, his will was slowly crumbling, the trembles in his fingers more persistent and clearly evident, but he tried to contain it. He couldn’t die like this.

Then a voice.

Like a signal sent from above to save them all.

The same man from the beginning of the game. Player 456.

He had played these games before, or so he declared, but right now that statement was becoming more convincing minute by minute.

It was true that when they were eliminated they were going to get killed. And the only way to survive and pass the game was to hide behind someone taller and form a straight line. The robot’s eyes couldn’t detect movements from behind something. And the player 456 proved it so.

Immediately Dae-ho offered his help, hiding behind his broad structure as many people as possible. It was in his genes to help others.

Numerous lines formed all over the field in no time and his eyes incredulously spotted a tall player leading one of the lines.

They were taller than an average korean person, so he supposed they were a foreigner. Their steps were quick and long and even with their tall height they seemed so agile and fast, ready to sprint if necessary.

When he glanced at them from time to time he felt a sense of tranquility pervade him. Watching them waltz through the field with that elegance and velocity helped him concentrate on his current goal: survive and pass the game.

And he did.

The moment he passed the finish line he felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his chest. But even after passing the game his mind was immediately on you.

He searched you through the players with an frenetic gaze, scanning everybody and then he spotted you, slightly crouched down and gently reassuring an old lady who couldn’t stop showing you her gratitude for saving her and her son’s life.

Slowly he approached you, the old lady and the son off somewhere else, leaving you alone.

He didn’t know why but he felt his pulse rushing and the blood pumping loudly in his veins. Trying to act casual he cleared his throat hoping to catch your attention. And he did.

You turned around with a quizzical look on your face and only then he noticed your big and bright eyes scrutinizing him from the bottom to the top. He also paid attention to how taller you were than him. He had to tilt his head up a bit.

He met your gaze and forcefully managed to send down the lump in his throat. Breathtaking. That was what he thought when he saw you.

“Can I help you?” Your soft voice reached his ears and for a moment he thought that in reality he was dead and the person in front of him was an angel. But he regained his focus.

"You...you're really tall" his mouth spat out those words without being processed by the brain first and he should have thought of better words to say because he immediately saw how your expression morphed from a confused one to and irritated one. "Thank you, I didn't know that" you barked back with a calm fury, even scarier than a normal one.

And after that statement you went your way without looking back in his direction and he felt devastated at that.

Dae-ho only wanted to get to know you better and to express his admiration for how you handled the game with cold blood.

With a fallen expression he followed the other players back to the dorm room when the game ended. A lot of people had been eliminated and of course the amount of money gained from their deaths convinced more of the majority to continue playing.

The former marine stared at the blue patch on his chest and a pressing weight tortured him again. He needed the money to pay of his debts. He didn't want to fret his family further, already too much on their plate.

During the vote he didn't really ponder about it too much, but simply followed his insticts and press the circle. Only when your number was called he noticed your slumped and insicure figure instead of the confident one he found on the field. He surely heard all the whispers coming from the others and how they were effecting you.

And it was then that Dae-ho realised he should have voted X. Beside his family, who was still good financially compared to him he had no one out there, but when you came into the picture, even though he didn't know you at all and somehow managed to offend you, he wanted to protect you.

You looked brave on the outside, but he knew how fragile and breakable you were on the inside. Just like him.

He felt a strange bond with you: for him you two were very similar. And maybe he wasn't so wrong.

His gazed stayed focused on your figure, he didn't miss the slight tremble of your hand when you pressed the red button and the quick little steps you took to join the other side opposed to his.

Regret was eating him alive. And he felt the need to redeem himself.

His attentive eyes immediately spotted your figure on the stairs where your bunk and also player 456's was situated. You had decided to stick with him, since both of you wanted to leave that place so bad.

Dae-ho slowly tried to approach you, your gaze fixated on the small tray of food in your lap, while player 390, another member of your 'team', was talking with player 456. You were oddly silent.

Only when he reached a rather close proximity the other two noticed him. You also acknowledged his presence and a cold expression settled on your face.

He still felt bad for how he had treated you, even if it wasn’t his original intention. He couldn’t change the past but was right on time to make the best out of the present.

Player 390 was the first to speak up, “what are you doing here?” Dae-ho froze on the spot and transferred his gaze from you to the old man now standing behind you, “I wanted to join your team. I found player 456’s speech really stimulating and I would like to help you all to get out of here.” He stated firmly after he took a deep breath of encouragement.

The man looked at him from head to toe, “I think I could be a good addition since I was a marine” he added, showing off his tattoo. At that sight the man proudly took off his hoodie and flashed him the same tattoo.

“If you want to get out…” the two men were interrupted by another voice “…then why did you vote to continue with the games?” It was player 456 who had spoken, his voice serious and unshakable.

His gaze was set on Dae-ho who gulped his anxiety and gathered some courage to face the supposed leader of the team. “Because I have no one and nothing waiting for me out there so I thought to give it a chance, but—“ he stopped himself, moving his gaze to your figure, warming up a bit, “then I found something worth fighting for…”

You noticed how his gaze was locked on you and the sudden warmth and gentleness in his eyes, making your heart skip a beat. So you simply adverted your gaze and focused it on your lap again.

You wanted to appear composed, his words from before still lingering in your mind.

Gi-hun also understood the reason behind the guy’s change of heart and with a small sigh he accepted Dae-ho into the team, convinced that someone like him would have been a great addition.

The young former marine thanked him profusely and then uncertainly took a seat beside that tall and breathtaking person. He wasn’t aware of being staring at them but they noticed since they felt his gaze on them, so they decided to call him out.

“What do you want now? It wasn’t enough what you had said earlier?” He immediately picked up their irked tone and considered this as the perfect opportunity to apologize and explain the situation.

“I’m sorry if I offended you before, it wasn’t my intention” he replied firmly but without looking at them in the eyes, still not brave enough to face them at the moment, “I must admit I had been shocked when I saw you” “but!” He immediately added, to avoid any type of misunderstanding “but…I didn’t find you strange or annoying like the majority of the players here…”

Dae-ho didn’t know if now he had to be sincere with them and possibly making a fool of himself or simply apologizing. They had been looked down enough by others and by how they know showed themselves, closed off and slightly insecure about their aspect, he felt the need to speak the truth, facing any type of consequences.

Gaining all his bravery the former marine locked his gaze with theirs, who were simply ogling at him during his speech, and when he did it was over for him: their big bright eyes observed at him with an indescribable warmth and surprise.

“actually…” he felt himself shift closer to them, their eyes never breaking contact, “…during the game I thought you were so brave and elegant. The grace you showed by crossing the field left me…breathless”

You widened your eyes at that statement, throwing you off guard.

No one had ever called you elegant or saw any type of grace in you.

You had always wanted to become a model and being blessed by such height was a gift and a sign from above. But unfortunately you lacked of delicacy and charm, making you feel humiliated and a failure.

When you tried different auditions you had always been rejected, neither being able to pass the first selection because they all grimaced when they saw you trembling on those heels.

Though, you never lose hope and always practiced with walking without stumbling or falling completely.

But things weren’t going great, you were also struggling financially since in the meantime you were working for minimum wage and every audition ended with the same negative evaluations.

You were tired and almost close to drop your dream but then you saw a light at the end of a tunnel: a recruiter came up to you one day and gave you his business card to arrange a proper meeting and to talk more clearly about a modeling stage.

You were thrilled. Maybe things were finally going your way!

And then…the disaster.

When you meet you met a second time with that recruiter you ended up spending a large amount of your life savings and only later, a couple of days after the encounter, you discovered by the news that a man, who pretended to be a model recruiter, had been arrested for fraud and scamming.

It was him. The same guy you had met in a cafe to fill in all the papers and to cover all the costs.

The police only arrested the man but there were no signs of the money he gained with his illegal activity.

The world was crumbling beneath your feet. You had reached your lowest and deepest point, now nothing was enough to save yourself from this situation you naively had pur yourself in.

A dream.

Only because you wanted to follow a stupid dream.

That’s why people locked them in the furthest part of their mind. They knew they were impossible to realize.

Still you needed to prove them wrong, how they just failed to pursue theirs and instead show them how you were going to make it.

In reality you only showed how you really were a failure. And they all had always been right from the start.

However, those words whispered so gently by him flabbergasted you, but in a good way.

They were like a lighter that ignited a new spark in your chest, in your soul. You felt…seen.

For the first time someone really saw you.

A boy who’s jacked and kind, making you believe in yourself again. Making your heart flutter for some praising words and making you feel all giddy inside.

You simply stared at him but with a new perspective; the hatred you felt for him immediately dissolved into thin air and was replaced by warm and a bubbling feeling in your chest.

“I’m sorry…” you whispered bashfully “for how I treated you…the first time” he understood what you meant and slightly smiled at you.

Chuckling softly he shook his head “it’s fine…really…i understand where that came from” “this whole situation…isn’t the best and if someone came up to you saying strange things…it’s totally understandable” he voiced your thoughts with a comforting and comprehensive tone.

You felt it again, the flutter and warmth in your chest.

“I’m y/n” he had never heard such a unique name, it fitted you so well. He tried repeating it, your name rolling off his lips in a low and tentative tone. You had never thought your name could have been so different and singular till now. He made it sound so pretty.

“I’m Kang Dae-ho” he then murmured leaning closer to you “Dae-ho…” you repeated back, your gaze locked into his. The ex-marine smiled and a small chuckle left his lips when your cheeks reddened for the embarrassment.

“If somebody tries to make fun of your appearance, I’ll deal with them, ok?” He reassured you “you don’t have to…I can take care of myself” you quietly stated, but he didn’t want to hear it.

“I’m serious…I will protect you. Whatever it takes.”

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 16

Cold Compress | Loki x Reader

After fleeing the court of The Golden Palace, Loki follows and reveals a secret of his own in an effort to console you. But his new form is more than just comforting...

Warning: 18+. sexual content and language. I mean it. Jotun Lokiincluding - size difference, oral sex (m & f receiving) frottage, fingering/large insertion. Hyperspermia. Capital S for SMUT

A/N: I used What If...Loki and thought about an average size woman to compare. This really is just self-indulgent smut so can be read standalone if you're not following the series.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @reveriesources

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

The wrath that had sent your fire reeling banked at the cool touch of Loki’s hands around your waist. In one moment you were a raging inferno, destroying every artefact, every decoration and drape in your path, sending other gods fleeing back into side rooms and up onto the balconies. The next you were cradled so softly in his arms, his touch pushing back your anger like a cool breeze on a summer day. 

The burnt cinders of the corridor were gone and you found yourself alone in a similarly vast marble throne room, sealed from floor to ceiling in onyx black marble, seams of gold tracing through the wide blocks into an endless ceiling, twinkling with candlelight. 

Loki held you to his chest, petting the back of your head and down your arms, quenching the fire under his touch and, when you finally looked at him, he still held that pale blue hue that had appeared when he created a sedir shield against your explosive anger. 

“Asynja,” Loki breathed your name like a prayer, cupping your cheek and drawing you closer. 

“Loki,” you sobbed, collapsing back into his chest and allowing your tears to fall freely, “I don’t want to join any of their families.” You finally let the tears flow, now that your anger was subsiding, and your fear rose swiftly to the surface. 

“No one can make you go with them, my darling,” Loki soothed, but you still hiccuped around another sob. “I promise, as long as I am beside you, my darling Asynja, no one shall take you from me. Do you understand?” He pulled back to look down at you, his eyes brimming with a potent mixture of anger and possessiveness. 

“I understand,” you took a deep breath, but the flames that had surrounded you continued to dance around your feet and temples. “It’s just - it’s an awful lot to deal with so suddenly.” 

“I know, I too have experienced a revelation about my parentage, and the powers that come with it.” He kept his eyes steady with yours but you could tell from the twitch in his jaw that he was holding his emotions back. 

Confused you allowed your gaze to rove over him for the first time, he didn’t appear to be hurt by the flames but he still looked different somehow. 

“You’re blue.” 

“Yes,” Loki laughed a little, “I am blue. I thought it might help you to see that you are not alone in discovering new things about yourself and that you are also not alone in being frightened. Although this is only part of my other body.” He admitted. 

You took Loki’s hand, colder than usual, and led him into the centre of the ballroom before tugging him to sit on the floor beside you. “What are you frightened of?” Your dress pooled around you, shimmering slightly, and Loki carefully arranged your skirts so that he could press as close to you as possible. 

“I imagine the same as you, what I will become, should I let the truth of my nature show.” 

“And what is your true nature?” You took his hand and traced the darker blue lines that had appeared along the back, dipping between his fingers. 

“Odin was not my father, my father was Laufey, of Jotenheim, King of the Frost Giants. That is why I am Loki Laufeyson. Father, Odin, used to say that both Thor and I were born to sit upon the throne. It was only recently I learnt that he meant separate thrones and not a joint ruling of the kingdom as I’d believed. I had imaged that we would share responsibilities, divided by our personal skills in both warring and intrigue. But father had other plans. My brother, of Asgard, would rule over the people that we love, the home that I knew. Yet I, the son stolen from his homeland, was destined for a throne in a room I did not remember, a people I did not know, a land I have visited but once.” He choked on his words, fighting the emotion he’d tamped down for so long. 

“Oh, Loki, I’m so sorry. He should never have kept that from you, or teased you and Thor like that.” You squeezed his hands tighter and Loki turned to give you a sad smile. 

“Fear not, darling, I do not wish for a throne, it is no great disappointment to me that it belongs to another.”

“What are you afraid of then?” 

“My form, this is a body, a form, that I was given as a child by my mother. Frost Giants are unlike Asgardians, I fear that my Jotun form would be a terrifying prospect for all around me, there is precious little regard for me as it is, I should hate to ruin my reputation further.” Loki smiled again, patting your hand. “We should leave, we can return to Tonsberg as planned, we’ll be safe there and we can put this whole sorry mess to rest. We have no need to fear prophecies, we can write our own futures.” Loki seemed so sure, confident that he could walk away from this threat as he had so many others that you almost believed him. 

Perhaps you could, but you would have no secrets between you if you did. 

You allowed him to rise, but tugged him back when he offered you his hand, “show me.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Show me, let it go, be a Jotun, show me.” You repeated, raising your eyebrows and watching him expectantly. “I already saw your skin go sort of blue, what else happens?” 

Loki looked almost bashful, “really, darling, I have no concept of what might happen. Frost Giants can be ten feet tall, I would not wish to risk any harm coming to you.” 

“Loki, please, look at the size of this room,” you both looked up at the ceiling, though it was so high you could barely see it, shrouded as it was in the darkness of the marble. 

“If you insist,” he conceded, “but only for you, my darling.” 

Loki stepped further from you, and as he did he began to change subtly. When Loki used his sedir the change could be tracked by the journey of the magic over his body, but this was different. He grew taller and as you watched you missed his hair lengthening, growing down his back. His skin, an icey blue, was marked with more and more intricate designs and his eyes became red. His growth slowed and you stared up at him. Naked and in his full glory for the first time. 

Loki must have been at least ten feet tall, if not more, though the ballroom ceiling was still far away he could reach up and touch the cascading chandeliers, he was certainly towering over you, sprawled as you were on the floor, attempting to take in his full height. 

“Wow.” You continued to stare, your hand reaching out for him. 

“Is wow a positive expression?” Loki asked, his voice still the same, though louder now. The sound vibrated through you and you clenched your legs together. 

“Uh - definitely a good thing.” Loki was always beautiful, but this form, so tall and broad, muscular and strong, so purely alien. He was truly a god and you felt small before him. “I bet you could pick me up with one hand.” You said, touching his calf absently. 

Loki laughed in response and you felt hot, you hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but it had taken you by surprise how attractive you found this form. 

“Probably,” he quirked an eyebrow. “Shall we find out what else we could do?” 

Loki bent down on her haunches and extended a hand towards you. His hands were still decorated with whirls of darker blue, and you traced them with your own fingers. With a grin he scooped you up, knocking you backwards so that you landed in his open palms.

Shocked, you gazed up at him open mouthed and his smile didn’t fade, instead it morphed into the teasing grin that knew you were in for both pleasure and mischief. 

In this form you looked different too, although Loki was always taller he had certainly never viewed you like this. So small and vulnerable in his hand. He clenched his fingers gently, folding his thumb over your waist and circling your back with his fingers. You curled your arms around his thumb, hanging on tightly. 

When he stood you shook, each of your movements amplified in his palm, as if he was back catching creatures in the forests of his youth, a nymph of his own to play with. He clenched his jaw against the thought - a plaything. His own goddess to play with. 

“You look so - delicate.” He cooed, keeping his voice lower now you were closer to him. 

“You look enormous.” You choked out, heat spreading over your chest and neck despite the chill of his touch. “Please, Loki, distract me from all this?” You asked, he had been right, this was exactly what you needed to feel less alone, less strange in this alien world. But now you needed more of him, you’d never get enough of anything that Loki could offer you, you’d take every facet of him, every version. 

“What do you require of me, my tiny darling.” Loki lifted you higher, holding you to his cheek, your legs dangled in the air but your arms reached forward, touching his cold skin. 

You leant towards him, pressing your lips against the expanse of smooth skin that covered his still sharp cheekbones, and pressed tickling kisses there, “make me forget, Loki. Please?” 

“How could I deny such a polite request.” He cupped his other hand around you and, in a warm shimmer of magic, you felt your clothes vanish from your body. Still surrounded by his fingers your skin tingled, erupting in goosebumps at the press of his cold palm. 

Loki lifted you back towards his face and pursed his lips, blowing warm air into his cupped hands and you giggled. You’d been expecting him to launch into some debauched idea of his, knowing that at least ten crackled around his thoughts at all times, but his playfulness caught you off guard as it always did. 

“Loki!” You squirmed in his grasp and he held you all the tighter for it, bringing you back to his lips. This time he opened his hands and held you still, his second thumb covering your arms over your head so you couldn’t move, and then kissed the soft swell of your stomach. His lips were as cold as the rest of him, but as gentle as ever.

You giggled again, heat skittering over your skin and then shooting between your legs. His thumb swiped over your body and he kissed you again and again, turning you this way and that to find a spot on your side, on your hip, that he hadn’t yet worshipped. 

“My darling,” he sighed, tipping his hand back so that you fell into his palm again, sprawled before him, “what a delicious little morsel you are.” His smile was vulpine and the only warning you got before he licked you, his tongue dipping between your spread legs and swiping up towards your breasts. You squealed in surprise, trying to close your legs but his fingers tangled over them, holding you open and he licked and licked, pausing only to blow gusts of cold air over the heat of your flesh. 

“I could eat you forever and never be satiated.” Loki fit his tongue between your legs, teasing the tip against your entrance until you felt him stretch you gently. He angled his tongue upwards, humming softly and you swore you saw all the stars exploding as the vibrations thrummed through your bones. Loki continued, tilting his face forwards so that he nose pressed on your lower stomach, his tongue still angling upwards and your body sang for him, taut and ready. 

“You’re devine,” he cooed, the rush of his words like a breeze, cooling your slick as it ran down your sticky thighs. 

“Please, Loki, I can’t - I need - I want to cum - I’m going to - agh!” 

Like a sacrificial offering he kept you pinned open until you were begging, pleading for more, the ever tightening coil of your arousal turned and turned in your stomach until you could take no more, gushing onto his tongue with a scream of pained pleasure. The sensations were overwhelming, heat and cold and pressure and pleasure and ecstasy all rolled into one. 

Loki gave you a few seconds to recover before he lay you onto the table, sprawled before him. 

“You are truly a feast, Asynja. Look at you, covered in us both and still smiling.” He kissed your cheek the best he could, swiping his thumb over your belly and thighs, rubbing in his kisses. 

Your chest heaved, sweat cooling between your breasts and you longed for his touch again, even if it was icy, anything but this loneliness now that he had put you down. 

“Loki -” you gasped, reaching for him and finding one of his large hands, your hand barely fit around his finger but his touch was soothing and pleasant on your heated skin.

He brushed his thumb over your breasts, around your nipples, down, down until he could lift your leg and cup you again, his thumb covering your folds and applying pressure to your aching clit. Your body no longer belonged to you, given over to the pleasure that touch created, your hips lifted, rolling into the pad of his thumb and he let you, a satisfied smile on his face as your pace increased, riding his hand. With an obscene moan you arched from the table and into his awaiting touch. 

“You’re not satisfied, darling?” He smirked as you looked at him with heavily lidded eyes, “I promise I’m going nowhere until you are completely sated,” he bent over the table, looming over you and filling your senses, “we shall only leave when you are panting, crying for me to stop.” Loki kissed the side of your face, close enough that you could twine your hands in his hair in an effort to keep him there, so close you thought you could breathe him in. Despite all of the changes to his body, his hair felt the same, soft and silky and smelt like the expensive shampoo he insisted on using. It blended with his usual deep amber scent and something else, perhaps something Jotun, that reminded you of snowy days and icey nights. 

“God - Loki - I - fuck me, please.” 

You both looked down at the sizable erection tenting his magically enlarged trousers, his words rumbled through you, his lips still at your cheek, “I do not wish to break you, my Asynja, perhaps something else may sate your lusts.” His cock bobbed under his trousers, twitching in time with his words, and you knew without looking in his eyes that he was using every ounce of his self control not to at least try and push himself deep inside of you. 

Suddenly his thumb was gone and you gave a low whine at the loss, dropping a hand between your legs to try and continue the glorious cresting of your impending orgasm, but Loki moved your hand away. 

“Patience, darling,” he chided, still cupping the backs of your legs, tugging you to the edge of the long table. Instead of his thumb he stroked his pinky finger down your stomach, one hand keeping you still, the other drawing teasing circles over your belly button, lower and lower with each circle. 

Even his smallest finger felt enormous, Loki in his usual size was enough of a stretch and heat flooded through you at the thought of trying to take even his finger. 

“Lo’,” you were incoherent now, thrashing on the table with every movement, but he pressed on, the pad of his finger at your entrance, spreading your arousal over your clit and pushing slowly, intently, until you felt yourself stretch around him. 

“Norns, Asynja, you are the most delicious woman in the nine kingdoms, in every realm, every universe, every time,” he cooed, pressing further until you keened, your hands rushing back between your legs as if to both stop and continue the onslaught of pleasure. 

You had never been so full in your life, so full and so loved, held as you were between Loki’s gigantic hands, his lips kissing away the sweat on your brow, sparkling like diamonds in the low light. 

“Loki, I - I -” your fingers struggled to find purchase in his hair - on his hands, slipping over his arousal soaked skin and you were dimly aware that that was the feel of you, hot and slick between you, dripping onto the table, before your orgasm hit you at full force, just from the stretch alone. 

“Good girl, Asynja,” Loki growled, moving only slightly as your walls clenched around him, he could feel very flutter and movement on his sensitive fingertips and then you gushed, squirting over his finger and soaking the his chin where he perched between your legs. 

Loki’s red eyes went darker, a blood red full of his widened pupil and drinking in every inch of your sweating, heaving body, your velvet skirts pushed up around your waist and bare legs shining with your arousal. 

“Fuck, Loki - that was -” you dropped your head back onto the table with a thunk, staring glassy eyed at the lights twinkling above. 

“It’s my pleasure, my darling.” He drawled, grin feral, tongue poking out between blue teeth. The first lap was soothing on your heated skin, sending goosebumps up and down your legs. 

You peered up, tucking your head into your chest to view the god between your legs, still worshipping you, still thinking only of you. It was overwhelming, his devotion, and you wanted - needed, to make him feel the same. 

Carefully you eased yourself to the edge of the table, level with his smiling face, and then you let your feet drop to the floor, a hand on his bare chest, pushing him backwards until he lay on the marble floor. Loki was the only other colour in the room, a bright star in the darkness. The bulge of his trousers was pressing against the zipper and you carefully settled on his hip, pushing your hands against the fabric. 

It was Loki’s turn to groan now, the sound a deep rumble that travelled down his body and back between your legs. A fresh wave of arousal made itself known, but you tamped down your feelings. It was Loki’s turn now. 

He helped you to tug the zipper down, freeing his impossibly large cock from its prison. 

“Fuck.” The word was out before you could stop it and you left your mouth hanging open while you took in his full glory. In his Asgardian form Loki was already generously endowed. But as  Jotun - you placed your hand against the firm length and marvelled at how delicate his skin still felt, albeit colder than normal. His cock twitched beneath your palm and a large bead of precum slithered from the tip, tracing the contours of a thick vein that ran up the bottom. 

“Please -” Loki whimpered, his hands twitching. One came to wrap around your waist, gently holding you, the other he clenched in the fabric of his trousers. 

“Can I taste?” 

“Yes - of course, please, Asynja, do not torment me, can you not feel how I ache for you. How my body needs you?” 

He squeezed his eyes closed, the sound of fabric ripping slowly accompanying the tightening of his first. 

“I’d hate to leave you aching, my Prince.” You teased, leaning forwards and wrapping your hands around as much of his girth as you could. Tugging yourself closer to him you let your tongue dancing over his throbbing vein, arching higher towards the flare around the head. Marvelling at the beautiful shades his Jotun form afford him, you missed a second roll of precum escaping down the side and soaking your arm. 

“Norns -” Loki clenched his jaw, “I must apologise for -” 

“Please, don’t.” You knelt up and licked him again, eagerly tasting as much of him as you could. “You taste a little different, it’s fascinating.” 

“Asynja,” he warned.

“Well -” you licked, “you do.” 

Reaching the sensitive head you dipped your face towards his slit, pressing your nose into the soft flesh and pushing your tongue down, swirling it and pulsing as he did to you. You were rewarded with more and more of his cum, weeping past your pressing fingers. 

“Asynja, I cannot hold back any longer - my darling -” 

His cock pulsed, you could feel it against your body were you had pressed yourself against the entire length of him and it felt devine. Your body responded, clit aching for the feel of it. 

“Do that again,” you begged, rubbing yourself against him, pushing on his length until you were lying on his stomach, wrapped around him, legs thrown over his base, toes curling. 

The hand at your waist squeezed too and you felt the sensation of him moving you gently, the drag and pull of skin on skin, your pussy wet and wanting against his cock. 

“You feel so fucking good, my darling, I can’t help it, your little body is perfection, made for me, made for my cock.” 

You mewled, licking and sucking at his rigid length, thrusting your hips into him in seach of your own pleasure. 

“I’m going to cum, Asynja and you haven’t even tried to move away.” He growled, his voice wavering as he neared his release. 

“Don’t want to, Lo, I want your cum, want you to drench me in it, want you to use me and rub me on your beautiful cock, please - please!” Your sobs of pleasure joined his own, a deep knot tightening in the pit of your stomach. 

“My goddess, my princess, my darling I will give you every drop you wish for.” He promised, fingers so tight you knew you’d have an array of bruises to enjoy tomorrow, but now, plunged into the most exquisite pleasure you’d ever felt, you latched onto the spot below his glands and sucked and sucked and - 

Loki came with a shout, chasing your own release with each pulse of his cock, and spurted down your arms and hands, your back and legs. He painted his own chest in ropes and ropes of cum until he sighed, releasing your body and sagging into the floor. 

Slowly he shrank until you were lying chest to chest on the cold floor and laughing. 

“Loki, please tell me we can do that again.” You mumbled into his chest, lazily kissing his now, slightly warmer, skin. 

“I’d be disappointed if we didn’t.” He agreed, “although I think we may traumatise my poor brother should he stumble upon us. Perhaps it’s time we find him and return to Tonsberg?” 

“Can’t we stay here and have a nap?” You closed your eyes defiantly, hoping he’d give in despite how uncomfortable you both were. 

“Sadly, I can not allow a Goddess, such as yourself, to take her rest on a such an appalling hard surface. Only the finest pillows and sheets will do for you.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “luckily, I know just such a place.” 

<< Chapter 15

Chapter 17 >>

[b3ach-bunn7]

hi, was wondering if you could do something for sero!!! i feel like i never see any fics for him. anything is fine!

I agree wholeheartedly!! I hope this doesn’t disappoint

CHOCOLATE BARS AND SLIDES

Sero Hanta, your cute coworker, always knows how to save the day

No powers AU, Office AU,

————————————-—————————————

Your desk chair squeaks under you as you adjust yourself for what you think might be the hundredth time today. You’d think that your employers would splurge on more comfortable chairs, considering your shift consists of sitting at your desk for ten long hours, but they were as cheap as they come.

You have a few hours before you’re off, but you know you can’t leave until you finish this presentation. You of course got lumped with it at the last meeting, too polite to tell your boss you were already painfully overworked to also add that to your list. You know stuff like this only pushes you up the company ladder, so you try not to complain too much. But it’s still annoying.

A knock sounds on your office door. A hand pops in holding a coffee cup before a grinning face quickly follows.

“Got an order for UA’s best employee.” Sero smiles, waving the coffee in the air.

If not for the living wage it gives you, your job gives you a blessing in the form of your cute coworker, Sero Hanta. He had the office right next to yours and you found yourself spending your lunch breaks together, getting drinks on Friday’s at the bar down the street. He would keep you company while you worked, lounging on the couch in your office, and you’d do the same. Even outside of work, you’d met all his old university friends and he’d met yours.

Of course, it’s very helpful that he’s also the most attractive person in the company. And also the most attractive person you know in general. Long, dark hair he always ties into a low bun when he’s really focusing on work. He’s so tall, and you’ve learnt the muscles under his work suit are hidden but there, having dragged him home after long nights out with too many beers, one of your hands not big enough to wrap round his arm. And that smile. Perfect teeth, the perfect grin. You love it every time it’s aimed at you and you do everything you can for him to do so.

You get up quickly and rush to the door. He’s ditched the coat of his suit and loosened the tie, rolled up the sleeves to his elbows. Things get much quieter the closer you reach closing, and the uniform rules also get much more lenient. He hands you the coffee and you ignore how your fingers brush against his, warm and soft.

“God, I love you.” You take a long sip and sigh contentedly. “I needed this.”

You sit back down at your desk and Sero takes a seat on your couch. “Are you talking to me or the coffee?”

“The coffee.” You take another sip.

“I’m unappreciated in my time.” Sero leans back, scratching his head. “What are you still working on? We’re finished in like, an hour.”

“I have to finish this thing, it’s for tomorrow. Aizawa gave it to me personally so if I don’t finish it I’ll personally be blamed.” You scrub at your eyes to try and wake yourself up.

“You nearly done?”

You nod. “I think. I should be out soon.”

Sero grins. “And then we’re going out for drinks?”

You shake your head and look back at your computer. “It’s a Wednesday, you alcoholic.”

“Yeah, so what? We haven’t hung out in ages.” He whines, leaning his head back against the couch. Your eyes trace the line of his neck, his sharp collarbones dipping into his button up and you quickly avert your eyes.

“I know. Aizawa has been giving me like, every piece of extra work we have. I don’t know why.”

“It’s because you never say no.”

You bite your lip, contemplating. “I can’t say no to Aizawa, he’s my boss.”

“That’s definitely not true, you workaholic.”

You type a sentence and nothing happens. You huff, tapping aggressively at the mousepad.

“Doubt that’s going to help.”

“Shush. God, it’s so hot in here.”

Your fan is broken and does nothing to stave off the heat filtering in from outside. It’s the end of summer, the last days of it already slipping away, but the autumn weather still hasn’t settled over the city. Your windows are open but you’re sure you’re sweating through your blouse. You unbutton the first two buttons, fanning yourself with your hand.

“It’s okay. I just need to read through everything and then I think I’m good to go.” The room is silent and you look up. Sero is staring at you quite intensely, his face a little red.

“You okay? I know it’s hot in here, my fan is broken.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m alright.” He sits up, adjusting himself. You peer at him for a second but you turn away.

“How long do you think it’ll take?”

You smile slightly. He’s looking at you expectantly, so excitedly. You feel bad to disappoint him when he’s come all this way to your office, with a coffee no less. But you’re tired. It’s been a long day. A long, hot day, and you have no intention of doing anything but getting home, showering and sleeping.

“I’m sorry, Sero. I’m gonna take a rain check on today.”

He pouts. “Come on, babe, please? It’ll be fun!”

“Actually, it’s not really a rain check since we never had plans.” You pointedly ignore the pet name he insists on using on you. You know that it means nothing considering the fact he calls Kaminari it more than you.

He says your name, dragging out the syllables. You try to ignore him but he’s now moved to stand at your desk, palms flat on the table. You look up and he’s looking right at you, brown eyes staring into yours.

“We won’t go out then. But promise you’ll get some rest tonight? You look dead on your feet.” He says softly.

His eyes crinkle with concern and a part of you knows he’s only pushing you to go out to make sure you’re okay. Sero knows better than anyone you’d rather overwork yourself than ask for help despite how much you might need it. Your heart clenches at the gesture and you smile softly. He does the same and you tug on his tie.

“Yeah, I promise. There’s reruns of criminal minds and a tub of ice cream calling my name.”

“That’s my girl.”

——-

The towel wrapped around your head slips as you bend down to light the candle on your bedside table. The shower had done everything to rejuvenate you, and the smell of your vanilla body wash wafts over your nose. You're wearing your comfiest joggers and your baggiest shirt, and had grabbed a spoon and your favourite ice cream to snuggle in bed with. Your laptop is set up above your duvet and you sit down excitedly, more than prepared for your night in.

You could start finishing the episode you’re on. You should, really. You remember a promise you’d made to a certain sexy coworker that you’d relax, but. You can’t help it. Before you can even decide against it you check the presentation one last time. It was done a couple hours ago before you came home and you know it’s perfect. But you need to make sure that all the slides are the right colour, that all the text is there. Just in case.

You click the Google slide. While it loads you dig your spoon into the carton. The chocolate melts over your tongue, but as you go back for another scoop, the ice cream drips onto the keyboard. You frown, rubbing at it with your finger. Which only makes it worse. You sigh, reaching for a tissue, and scrub at it m again. It cleans quickly and you smile triumphantly. You’re too tired to care for the sticky residue. You glance back up at the screen and you freeze.

Because it’s blank.

You seem to be back on your Home Screen. You pause. Maybe you didn’t actually click it. You look through your files and it’s not there. You curse because Google slides doesn’t have a rubbish bin, nothing you can look through to find the thirty page slide you just deleted.

“No, come on, please. Don’t do this to me.” You whisper to yourself.

You feel tears prickle behind your eyes. You’d spent so much time on this and Aizawa needed you to present it tomorrow. You spend another five minutes searching and you come to the horrible realisation that it’s gone.

Panic grips at your throat as you curse under your breath. You don’t know what to do and for some reason the first thing your brain can think of is to call Sero. If anyone can help you or at least just calm you down it’s him. It’s only nine in the evening so you know he’ll still be awake. Shaky fingers dial his number as you hop out of bed, laptop under one arm. You pace around your apartment as it rings once, twice, before he answers, voice deep and gravelly through the phone.

“Hello?”

“I deleted it! Sero, I deleted the slides, what am I going to do?”

“What?” The confusion is evident even through the crackle of the speaker.

You shake your head. “The slides Aizawa wanted. I-I don’t know how but I deleted them, Sero, I don’t know what to do.” Your voice cracks and you bite back tears. You hear shuffling on the other line.

“Hey, hey don’t worry about it. You’re 100% sure they’re deleted?”

“Yes. Yes, I looked everywhere. And I didn’t have a backup because I’m an idiot and I forgot. God, I’m so stupid.”

“None of that talk. Look, we can re-do them.”

You bite your lip. “It took me days, Sero. I- Will we have time?”

“We’ll have to try. They might not be as detailed as the originals were but I’m sure we can crack them out in one night. We’ll stay up all night if we have to.”

You nod a couple times and then you remember he can’t actually see you. You feel like crying again because there’s no way he’s actually this kind. “Okay. Thank you so much for this. For everything.”

“No problem. It’s what I’m here for. You wanna meet at yours?”

You glance at your cluttered messy living room, the dirty laundry piled on the floor. “I-I can’t do my place. You okay with yours?”

Sero goes quiet for a minute, and you hear voices in the background. “Uh, Kaminari invited some people over, so mine's a no go.”

You both take a moment to think of where you can meet. Your eyes land on the office keys on your coffee table.

“Hey, why don’t we meet at the office?”

“Will it be open?”

“I have a key.”

The line goes quiet for a minute.

“I won’t question that. Okay, I’ll be there in like, ten?”

“Sounds good. And again, thank you so much, Sero.”

“It’s alright, babe. I promise.”

You don’t stop to think once the line is cut, just quickly change into something a bit more presentable. You grab the first shirt and jeans you can find and rush out the door. You do make one stop to get some cans of coffee and snacks from the convenience store by your work. A little treat for Sero. You grab the chocolate bars you always see him eating and a couple bags of chips.

When you get there, Sero is leaning against the front doors. He’s wearing jeans and a hoodie. It’s weird seeing him in such casual clothes when you’re so used to him in a suit and tie. He looks up when he hears you walking in.

“Oh hey, did you-“

He’s cut off as you nearly knock him over in a hug, the bag of food rustling in your hands.

“Thank you, thank you, Sero, seriously.”

He laughs, arms circling around your waist to return the hug. He smells citrusy and you can feel the muscles underneath his hoodie as you slowly let go.

“I think you’ve said that enough.” He laughs. He immediately grabs the bag out of your hand as you fumble in your pocket for the key to the building.

“How do you even have access after hours, anyway?”

“Well, Aizawa caught me staying after closing so many times that he talked to security and let me have a key. He said at least that way I’m not trespassing after hours and I won’t get in trouble.”

Sero doesn’t respond so you turn, and he’s looking at you blankly. You squirm under his intense gaze.

“What?”

“You’re allowed after hours because you’re a workaholic?” He drawls and you shove his arm.

“No, I just- Shut up.”

The two of you wave to Hound dog, the night shift worker, and continue up to your office. Sero dumps the bag of food onto your desk before grabbing a chocolate bar and digging in.

“So what do we have to do?” He says around a mouthful of food.

“Well. I had about twenty slides? Or thirty? I can’t even remember now.” You walk over to your desk, fumble through its drawers and pull out a few papers.

“Aizawa gave me these for the presentation tomorrow. We have to summarise it all and make sure that everything highlighted is on the slides.”

He nods, peering at them over your shoulder where you’ve come to stand next to him. “Okay. So, give me half the stack to make into slides, you do the other half and we’ll just combine our stuff at the end.”

You nod and the two of you pull out your laptops. Sero props himself up on the couch. You consider sitting on the desk for a moment. It’s probably better for your back. But then Sero stretches, and his hoodie pulls up and you get a glimpse of what you think are abs, and you quickly decide to sit with him. You both place the laptops on the couch and sit so you’re facing each other, papers on your laps.

You work silently for a few minutes but then Sero asks how it all happened. You recount your nightmare incident with the ice cream, blushing furiously at the boyish laugh he lets out once you’re done.

“Ice cream caused you all this stress? Oh, you poor soul.”

You shake your head wistfully. “I’m never eating Ben and Jerrys ever again.”

Sero quitens and you glance up. He’s looking down at his laptop, eyebrows furrowed slightly as he focuses on a particular part of the paper he’s reading. You watched him tie his hair up moments before, and you wonder what it’d feel like if you just touched the wisps that fell over his face so effortlessly.

God, you’re such a creep.

“What were you doing before I called?” You clear your throat and hope the flush on your cheeks is not visible.

“Uh, you know. We were just hanging out.”

“You and Kami?”

Sero laughs nervously. “No, actually. Bakugo and Kiri and Mina. And Jirou.”

Your mouth gapes. “Oh my god, Sero! You were hanging out with all your friends and you ditched them to do paper work with me? At-“ you consult your phone quickly, “nine fifty seven?”

The tips of his ears go red and he shrugs. “I don’t mind. You needed my help.” His eyes shoot down to the screen.

You smile slightly. He’s refusing to look up at you, suddenly very interested in what colour to make his text. Only the fear of Aizawa’s wrath is stopping you from tossing your laptops on the floor and kissing him.

A shiver runs through your body. You rub your arms, curling up tighter against yourself. Despite the stifling heat during the day, the night welcomes a bitter cold that you were definitely not dressed for. Sero notices your shivering and immediately grabs his hoodie and yanks it off.

“Sero, no.”

“It’s fine, I run hot anyway.”

He throws it in your lap despite your protests. You huff but you’re too cold to refuse the gesture, so you slip the hoodie on. That same Sero smell infiltrates your nose and you pull the sleeves over your hands to warm them up.

“Thank you.”

He’s looking at you again, like he was in your office a few hours ago. That intense look that leaves you flustered and thinking that maybe he does like you back. You both stare at each other for a second, fingers stalling over the keys.

You clear your throat and break the silence.

The night continues with much of the same. Somehow, instead of being face to face like before, you’ve turned around so that your backs are resting against the couch, your shoulders and thighs touching. His body is warm next to yours, so you guess that he actually does ‘run hot’.

The two of you chat as you work and you find it much easier to recreate everything while he’s there to help and keep you entertained. And yet, despite all of his banter, you still find that you’re so terribly exhausted. The week had been long and despite the fact it was only Wednesday, (Thursday, judging by the fact it was now twelve am), you were tired.

You tried to push through. You only had one slide left. You decided that the heavy detail you used before was too much, and cut back almost everything to save time and effort. Sero had joked that that meant you never needed all that information in the first place, and you’d thrown a chocolate bar at him in retaliation. This was, despite the slides looking a little bare, something Aizawa couldn’t complain about.

And yet, though you’re so close to finishing, you feel your eyes fluttering shut. You cross your legs and adjust the laptop on your lap. This couch is so comfy. You never really noticed before. It’s probably why Sero is always lounging on it.

It won’t hurt if you shut your eyes for just a second, right?

——-

Sero jumps at the sudden weight on his shoulder. He turns to you to say something but finds that you’re asleep. On his shoulder. Your laptop is abandoned on your lap and Sero quickly grabs it before it slips off.

You’re both nearly done. He’s sure it will take a couple more minutes for him to finish everything up. You’d both been working on the same document, and he watched the icon with your name on it blink a few times before disappearing as he shuts your laptop.

He should probably wake you up. It can’t be good for your neck all bent like that. But you look so cute. He moves slightly and you make a little noise and bury yourself further into his arm.

God must be tempting him.

He’s sure it’s obvious he likes you. Half the office knows, but of course Sero likes you. How couldn’t he? Always smiling, always following along with whatever stupid thing comes out his mouth. Even though it might’ve been too much, your work ethic was unmatched by every one of your coworkers and he couldn’t help but admire it. You were funny and you both liked all the same things. You watched the same shows and you got along with all his friends, rambunctious enough to keep up with Kaminari and mouthy enough to even get along with Bakugo.

And it also didn’t help that you were gorgeous. Beautifully long lashes blinking behind even prettier eyes, that smile that lit him up from the inside. When he was in your office earlier and you’d unbuttoned some buttons from your blouse he’s sure he was about to combust. And then, when he was standing at your desk and could see the line of a lacy black bra peeking from behind it? That was enough for him to combust, and he quickly ducked out the room and ignored your confused expression as he coughed in his elbow to hide his furiously red face.

Sero has no clue if you know. Maybe today was enough to bridge the gap of uncertainty you both teetered on. His friends surely thought so, mad enough he was bailing on their monthly hangout to do paperwork.

“It’s not paperwork, guys, it’s love.” Kaminari had said, clutching his chest.

Him and the rest of his friends had watched as he quickly dashed around their apartment grabbing his laptop, his bag. Kiri and Bakugo were playing Mario kart, Kaminari egging them on, and the two girls painting each other's nails. It felt so similar to their days at college, and while he didn’t want to leave, the desperation and tears in your voice was enough to have him jumping out of his seat.

“It’s not love, it’s pathetic. The both of you. Just ask her out.” Bakugo rolled his eyes, shoving Kiris arm, trying to cover his view, out his face.

Sero grabbed his hoodie from his room, yelling out. “It’s not that simple!”

“It is! She so likes you back, everyone at UA knows.” Kaminari said around a mouthful of crisps.

“No they don’t.”

“I know, and I don’t even work there.” Mina quipped. The nail varnish brush dripped onto her clothes and she cursed.

Sero sighed. Where did he leave his keys?

“Look, it’s- I’ll think about that later, she’s really freaking out right now.” Sero found them under his suit jacket and shoved them in his pocket. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Sero’s getting some!” Kiri whooped, and Kaminari joined in.

He’d ignored them all and quickly left to meet you at the office. And when you appeared at the doors with that nervous smile on your face, hair pulled back messily, it made all the sense in the world why he ditched you for them. When you slipped his hoodie over your head, sat next to him instead of on your desk.

Sero doesn’t think he’s reading into things. He’ll ask you out. When you’re not ripping your hair out over work, if he can ever convince you to leave this room, he’ll ask you out. Maybe next time you’re getting beers, or next time he’s beating you in Mario Kart.

For now, Sero leans lower so you can rest your head better without hurting your neck. He should probably wake you up but instead, he continues typing, lulling you to sleep with the sound of the key clacking beneath his fingertips.

——————————-——————————-—————

I hope you all enjoyed!! I’ve been very anxious waiting to see if I got into uni, and now that’s all over I should be posting more regularly. leave any asks and I’ll try my hardest to get to them!!

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine arguing with Sanji in the kitchen and holding up service…

The kitchen at Baratie was heating up and it wasn’t from the flaming stovetops or pre-heated ovens.

There was a wicked, hot tension between yourself and Sanji and it was making the rest of the kitchen staff sweat. No one knew what had caused the new dynamic but they quickly learnt to stay a safe distance from the pair after Patty accidentally fanned the flame. Now they only interacted with the duo when required.

Sanji was chopping vegetables for his soup that was almost ready to simmer while you silently iced some cakes on the station beside him. Both regretting the request to cook next to one another.

The blonde-haired chef finished dicing the last of the carrots and picked up the board to hold over the pot. He gently swept the vegetables into the broth with the knife. Setting the utensils back down, Sanji inhaled the beautiful aroma that was starting to perfume the air. His hand reached out for his spoon but his fingers met empty air.

He sighed and closed his eyes. “I’d like my spoon back.”

Your eyes were fixed on the patterns being made on the soft pieces of sponge but your ears picked up that his tone was directed toward you.

“I don’t have it.” You offered simply without breaking focus.

Sanji turned to you, eyes squinting. “Really? Because I recall that you used it last to mix the cake batter.”

It was your turn to exhale. “I did and I washed it thoroughly before setting it back on the table.”

“Well, it’s not here.”

“Then pull out another one.” You snapped.

Sanji lowered the heat of his soup so it wouldn’t burn before returning to glare at you. “Why should I have to when you’re the one who-”

Splat! The cook’s eyes went wide as the cold vanilla cream dripped from his chin, lips tasting its sweetness.

You now stood upright holding the bag of frosting, brows knitted to match the frown on your face.

“I didn’t take your damn spoon.”

The doors to the kitchen opened with their familiar heaviness and a wooden footstep hit the tiles.

“Why is there no soup or cakes out on the floor?” Zeff asked as he entered.

The kitchen that had gone quiet during the public argument suddenly sprang to life and scrambled to resume duties. Zeff’s eyes floated to the two in charge of the slowed menu line and his eyes narrowed.

“Why on earth are you tasting the desserts, Little Eggplant?” He inquired, approaching the bench.

Sanji’s hands flew to gesture your entire being. “Y/n is literally holding the bag. I’m a victim here!”

Zeff held a hand up to silence the boy and set his gaze on you. “You know that we don’t waste food here. Explain yourself.”

You shrugged. “He accused me of losing his spoon so I did what had to be done. I’m not apologising.”

Zeff blinked, jaw dropping slightly.

“A spoon.” He repeated slowly before his voice, and temper, was unleashed. “You two held up service because of a damn spoon!”

You held up your hands in defence. “I told him to just use another one but he was stubborn about it.”

Sanji didn’t take kindly to being thrown under the bus, rounding on you while completely ignoring the steam blowing out of Zeff’s ears.

“Excuse me but that is my special soup spoon. You’re lucky that I even let you borrow it.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s a spoon, Sanji. It’s not the All Blue.”

“You know what-?”

“I’ve heard enough!” Zeff bellowed, his voice sending vibrations through the glassware. “Mix the soup with a rolling pin for all I care. Just get it out to the customers along with those cakes or you’re both on dish duty for two months. Am I clear?”

Receiving a grumbled reply, the owner of the Baratie marched off.

A few stations away, Patty stealthily pulled a towel to cover the wooden handle of the missing utensil. It was too late to reveal the small prank without being boiled alive or baked into a pie.

With the tension still rising, Patty decided to lock them in a cupboard after the shift.

~ More imagines here ~

A/n: Heading back to the office tomorrow with a 5am wake up but here I lay at 12am dishing out some Baratie mania (with more to come). No regrets.

[elenthyaolyenths]

I couldn't decide on where to begin, so thank you all by advance for your help! Please reblog so everyone can see it! The winner of this poll will become one of my top priorities during November.

↓LONG POST under the cut! I describe each WIP with pictures and I explain what I would like to do.↓

Tell me in comments/reblogs what you would like to see for these WIPs!

Num. 1: "Please", inspired by David Tennant Richard II Kiss

"Please" is the first part of a diptych. Published as a simple WIP in December 2023, it became for no apparent reason (lol) one of my most famous posts on Tumblr. I have always wanted to full-colour it, but I was feeling so much pressure about this one that I didn't dare to try. And then Time has passed...

I have changed a lot of things in my art practice. Different brushes, different lines, and so when I'll work again on "Please", I already know that I'll have to redo all the lineart - that's ok, it's one of my favorite tasks. I will improve Aziraphale's expression and draw more details on his Archangel suit. Crowley with his dark waistcoat (ngk) and his gorgeous black wings will probably stay the same, even if I'll redo all his lineart so they'll complete each other perfectly. And, of course, full-colour... Teehee.

Num. 2: "...Again." (inspired by David Tennant Richard II Kiss)

"...Again" is the second part of my "Richard II Kiss" diptych. So much potential in Aziraphale's wings, as he literaly lauches himself into Crowley's arms! And how I love the way Crowley embraces him like nothing else matters. I'll have to do all the lineart for this one, and I'm so glad about it, because I guess I have changed and improved my lineart skills these last months, and "Again" is the perfect challenge for proving it to myself.

Num. 3 "Bliss", one of my favourite Red Art Sketches! But...

Achieved on the 29 of January, 2024, "Bliss" is a Daily Challenge sketch, so time completion = less than 2 hours. I love the emotion and the movement in this one, but I have always wanted to come back to it and take my time, in order to draw a cleaner and more detailed version, probably in full-colour. The potential of Crowley's wings is phenomenal (I'm so much more skilled now about drawing wings), and his expression is wonderful. Maybe I'll change a little bit the lineart so we could see Aziraphale's embrace on Crowley - tenderness and passion all the way, always.

Num. 4 "Falling Starmaker" - "If Only I could have been there for you"

"Aziraphale saw the Starmaker's Fall, but didn't (couldn't) intervene. 6 thousand years later, he still regrets. He should have been there for him."

I dearly love this headcanon about Aziraphale, and I like to imagine that he would still dream about saving the Starmaker from his Fall. Not because he prefers Crowley as an angel (Damn, NO), but because he learnt to know Crowley throught the ages. And since he saw how much Crowley has suffered, after 6000 years, Aziraphale would do anything for relieving Crowley of thepast and the pain.

The lineart here is quite ok but needs to be redone so it would be more appropriate for a full-colour rendering. I really want to work on highlights and rendering effects for this one, so the movement of the Fall would be preserved. And I'll work on details like burnt feathers, Crowley's hair and Aziraphale's saddened eye.

Num. 5: "Eden" or "Take me back to Eden"

Since my first reading of "Anatomy 1.0.1", a Rating E fanfiction written by Fyre, I have a thing for them already together in the Garden of Eden. So of course, a kiss on the wall (again), but with their wings apparent this time!!!

I gave up this one in April after trying to full-colour it (that was... hideous.) Now that I have a better idea of how to handle full-colour, I need to come back to it. This one will be a peaceful, innocent fluffy scene. With Crowley's proud wings casting a soft shadow on them, probably, and his gorgeous hair flowing like fire and gold over Aziraphale. A lazy and tender moment in the Garden of Eden, when everything seemed simpler...

Ooooouf you did it! You know everything! So, which one you prefer? What would you want to see in it when it's achieved? Reblog/comment and tell me everything, I'm curious!!!

Thanks to you all, love you!!!

Linktree - Tumblr Masterpost

♥ Tag-List below (tell me if you want to be in or out)♥

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@floscrap-blog ; @demonsandpieohmy ; @amagnificentobsession ; @captainblou

@ineffable-hyperfixation ; @itsscottiesstark ; @moralsofanalleycatsposts

@fearandhatred ; @eybefioro ; @crowleys-bentley-and-plants ; @ashfae ; @crowleys-hips;

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@mad-aims ; @daisydimple20092 ; @seraphhiim ; @rebeccakatmauri

[vagabond-umlaut]

gesundheit

you deem gojo to be the most stubborn nurse you've ever seen. you suppose you're the most stubborn patient gojo's ever seen.

but what you don't know is you both are the most caring, and the most idiotic, couple of best friends [or perhaps... something else] anyone's ever seen.

▸ student! gojo satoru x student! gn! reader; sickfic; mentions of flu & the medicines treating it [i wish i could include their composition too but no :(((]; a brief appearance of yummy chicken soup; gallons & gallons of tooth-rotting fluff; one sexual innuendo; ETERNALLY PINING 'TORU & ETERNALLY OBLIVIOUS SHORTIE ARE BACK!! :D

▸ belongs to series we're the summer to our winter rain but you can read this as a stand-alone if you wanna!

▸ the gif, divider and characters used ain't mine. please don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

obdurate, obstinate, bull-headed, pig-headed—

you reckon there's no word in the lexicon of any language, from any corner of this world, that can adequately describe the boy crouched before you.

furrowed brows barely visible from behind the unkempt white bangs, gojo shoots you a woefully concerned look, so much so that it makes you wanna smack it right off his face– and says, "your temperature is still above 100, shortie. you sure you took all the medications right on time?"

"i did," you grit out through clenched teeth and a hoarse throat before a fit of cough racks through your warm body, making you clutch onto your blankets for dear life while the airways fight to expel the irritants into the tissue you've pressed over the lower two-thirds of your face—

a painful battle which continues for a good portion of a minute or two before ending– temporarily— you toss the tissue into the overflowing trash can few feet away and return to glaring at your best friend, with a very exhausted, very frustrated sigh.

gojo's shades glint back innocently in the low light of the television as the boy dutifully places the thermometer in its box then moves to put the lids back on the tupperware he brought you dinner in.

you sigh yet again, wrapping the blankets tighter round yourself.

"sometimes, i wonder if you ever learnt to read, y'know?" you mumble in a soft voice, yet its tone mad enough to make him flinch as he rises from the carpet– having cleared the center table of the remainders of the chicken soup haibara made for you– only to cover it a tiny second later with anti-pyretics, cough syrups, nasal decongestants, inhalers-

gasp of shock worsening into a scratchy cough, you wheeze out, "did you really not read my messages, 'toru? i asked u to leave my soup at the doorstep but you warped right to the centre of my living room— i also asked you not to buy any medicine for me, i already bought them today, but- but- you literally bought the entire medicine shop for me!"

"yeah. and?" the white-haired boy retorts, short and sweet with that eye-crinkling beam of his– one he knows never not works on you, "it isn't like i don't have the means to afford it. and as for your orders via the messages..."

he trails off, shooting you a wink as he moves to plop down near your feet on the sofa and drawls, "i've always been a brat. why don't ya put me back in my place, huh?"

in his place... don't tell me this idiot's speaking of...

"is that supposed to be a bdsm thing, satoru?" you inquire, genuinely confused. concerned. "and you should raise your standards, y'know? thinking a person sick and dying from a flu to be attractive enough to apply a pick-up line on them; i hone– hey, no, why the fuck are you—"

"scoot. over."

neither gojo's stony tone nor his pinched features brook any room for you to disagree, yet you decide not to be held back by such, legs and arms struggling to free themselves from the blanket to push the way too tall figure squeezing you into the sofa as he lies down beside you.

not even a moment passes before your blankets are rudely ripped off your body, then dumped on the floor beneath. swallowing back a sigh of relief– the fan feels so good!– you muster a glower to shoot at your best friend.

earning an eyeroll and a huff, you know are fond, in reply.

"the paracetamol will be kicking in soon, and you'll start sweating like hell then," the boy explains, plucking his shades off and placing them on the table beside, "and that sweat needs to get evaporated asap for your fever to reduce asap— which won't happen if you stay swaddled in your blankets. didn't ya know that, shortie?"

your fever-stricken mind didn't until now, but you decide not to voice the fact out loud, just to not appease the smug grin on that bastard's face.

instead, you retort, "but don't you know staying in close contact with a sick person, taking no preacutions, can make you fall ill too?"

"nah!" gojo shoves your concern away with a dismissive shake of his head, "i'm not one of the strongest duo for nothing, you know? them weakass flu viruses can do nothing to me."

then adds, swiping a calloused palm over the skin of your forehead— cracking a smile, you realize, is 'cause he finds it sweating, "moreover, you're sick, shortie— you don't think i'm gonna leave you to take care of yourself, all alone with no one to help, do you?"

you don't.

of course, you don't, knowing who your dearest friend is— a very very stubborn boy, a store of immense power, but most importantly— the holder of a heart made from the purest of pure gold...

a half-hearted ugh is the only response you decide to grace his query with, not really minding when the boy ruffles your hair and pulling the thinnest of the blankets over you both, shifts so that he is now on his side with an arm tucked under his head, while you remain squished in between him and the sofa, face nearly pressing into his shirt-covered chest.

allowing a beat to pass, you peer up at him, mumbling tiredly.

"but why are you sleeping with me here, 'toru? go to one of the rooms and sleep in them. your legs will hurt a lot tomorrow, if you keep them dangling like that."

"let them," gojo smiles, wrapping a loose arm round your midsection, "it's more important for me to stay close to you to know when you're feeling sick and when you're not- or do you wanna make me sleep on the floor? i can do that for you."

"i am not saying this for me, 'toru," you grumble, inching closer to him despite your brain barking opposite instructions at you, "it's for you– i move a lot when i'm asleep. you won't get even a wink of sleep."

your best friend's lips lift knowingly. "why do you think i trapped you like this, hm?"

your zeal to dissuade him, itself fades a little. still, you persist, "i also tend to mumble in my sleep. won't you find that creepy?"

"nothing's creepy if it's in your sweet voice," he answers with a very... uncanny smile then rushes to add with a visibly exhausted sigh when you shoot him a frown, "i've got earplugs in my bag. i'll use them if it's too unbearable for me."

"tch!"

the battle of talking him out of this seemingly- definitely lost, you tsk and move to shut your eyes, finally letting your ailing body to listen to the call of sleep— before your eyes fly open again— a brand new idea whirring to life in your mind.

"but what if i start sneezing, or worse, coughing in the middle of the night? what are you go—"

"shut up," gojo shushes you, pressing your face into his shirt by a firm hold on the back of your head. you make a yelp of protest but it goes ignored by him as he continues, voice dropping to a pleasant rumble.

"and in case you start sneezing or coughing, i'm gonna wake up and take care of you and will stay awake till you're perfectly okay and fine— is that clear to you, shortie? taking care of you is only why i'm here tonight— why else would i bother myself with a snot-nosed person?"

his remark makes your fingers want to pinch his sides hard– but you stop them— choosing to let them draw nonsensical designs over his back, instead. a barely-there shiver passes through his body, you feel it, the same moment he removes his hand from the back of your hair to keep it in between your shoulder blades, lightly pressing, loosening the knots there.

yawning a little, you nuzzle into him at the comfort his action gives, then blink a pair of bleary eyes up at him, "do you know how much i adore you?"

curiosity and delight dimple his cheeks in a smile, clear as day for you to see. he asks, "you do?"

"mmhm," you don't waste even an instant in humming your assent, the relief brought by the medicines and gojo making you slowly fall into the grasp of slumber, "i really do. you're very very very precious to me and i adore you so much, 'toru. you're the best."

"i'm very happy to know that," the boy murmurs in a tone way too soft for him, but your slowly ebbing consciouness doesn't let you dwell on it for long— a smile shaping your lips at his next words, "and i too love you very much. i lo-"

he stops abruptly, making you frown up at him, worried— only to find him wearing a bright grin on his face. something tells you he is hiding something— his eyes are too nervous for a bragging person as him...

deciding not to pay it any attention, you pucker your lips into a pout.

"heyyy," you whine, "finish your sentence, 'toru!!! you can't leave your darling best friend hanging like thattt!!!"

the tension in his facial muscles reduces a pinch at your demand. the boy's grin widens, glowing even brighter to your tired eyes than those led-like blue eyes of his in the dim lights of the room.

thumbing your cheek lightly, he gives into your urging. "okay, fine— i love my darling shortie the most in this world. so much so that there is no one in this world who can love you as much as i do," he says in a gentle whisper, then adds— face growing that same strange smile as before— "my beloved best friend... now does that make you happy?"

the abrupt change in his tone to an oddly cheery quality as he makes his query is more than enough to give you one hell of a whiplash. you quickly sidestep it– filing the many queries it brings, away to be dealt with on a healthier day.

a brief shiver sending you press yourself closer into his comforting self, you close your eyes and mumble into the fabric of his shirt, "it makes me the happiest... thank you, 'toru. i too love you the most."

a tiny beat passes before you feel a feather-light kiss landing on your hairline— and that's the last thing you notice, before your drowsiness finally claims you, lulling you to a restful sleep in the safe embrace of your dearest 'toru.

▸ IMPORTANT NOTE: whatever u do, pls don't be as dumb as 'toru or shortie here!! if u r the one suffering from a flu or if u r the one taking care of a person who has flu, pls take the required precautions, and take care of urself and the ppl around u! love u sm!

[as a med student, it literally pained me to write these two being so stupid & careless when dealing with an illness as infectious and irritating like flu... but oh well. anything is possible in fiction, right? 🙃]

▸ masterlist

[rrrrinmaru]

picasso (marius x fem!reader) (nsfw)

wc: 5.7k rating: E warnings: nsfw, vaginal fingering, handjob, squirting, they're both freaks for each other

“I think it’s pretty,” you say plainly. “I like the look of it. I’ve always had a soft spot for ink wash works.”

The exhibit is held in a famous glass museum in downtown Stellis. There had been a controversy about the full glass walls and privacy issues a few years ago (you had read this case once, out of curiosity, and never again), but that was eventually resolved and now the first floor of the museum was regularly used for art exhibits. 

Before you knew Marius’ secret identity, you had invited him to visit one of Z’s exhibits. And Marius, the most shameless man to ever walk this Earth, had agreed. 

Fortunately, you learnt about this secret before you bought tickets for the exhibit. Not that you wouldn’t want to see his works displayed in the gallery, but the thought of you gushing over Z’s artwork in front of Marius without knowing the truth… 

It’s embarrassing. 

Today, however, it’s a different artist’s work on display. Thomas Mikeden, a foreign painter who’s been going on an exhibit world tour. Stellis is his latest stop, and everything just lined up. Both of you had the day off and tickets were on sale. You had invited Marius to the exhibit, excited to hear his artistic insight about the paintings, but Marius has been… a little petulant.

“I can’t believe we’re looking at a Mikeden painting,” he mutters, arms folded across his chest. “The first time you invite me to an art exhibit and it isn’t even mine; I can overlook that, but Mikeden?”

“What do you have against him?”

“We’re friends,” Marius says solemnly, looking like he doesn’t even believe the words coming out his mouth, “but we suffer from creative differences. Severe creative differences. If I ever have to see the way he mixes his oil paints again, I’d end up on the news for criminal activity. And he said if he ever had to see me try to sculpt a pot again, he’d wring my neck himself. He said my clay pots were an abomination against God.”

You blink at him. “You know how to do pottery?”

“According to him, I don’t.”

And suddenly, you get it. Creative differences, more like a bunch of children arguing over who does something right, or who does something better. Like kindergarteners fighting over whose parent made them the better lunchbox. 

“What are your thoughts on his ink wash painting?” 

Marius gives you an appraising look. “Not his worst work. He’s alright with ink wash. I've personally dabbled in ink wash before. It’s not my preferred medium, but we learnt it as part of our curriculum.”

You turn to look at him, eyes bright. “Really? Do you still have those ink wash paintings hidden away somewhere?”

“Of course. I never throw my works away. I’ll bring you to one of my storage warehouses one day.” 

One of his storage warehouses? It never occurred to you that painters would need a lot of space to store their paintings, even more so if they were particularly diligent and practiced different painting techniques often. With how many easels and canvases were strewn about Marius’ house, you suppose you should have made the connection.

“I’m looking forward to it.” 

The next few works are insightful, to say the least. Marius gets up close and personal with one of them to sneakily point out to you a place where Mikeden allegedly made a mistake and had spent hours trying to cover it up. 

“This is from when he tried to lean into the Baroque style,” Marius says, using his thumb to frame certain parts of the painting to draw your eye to them. “The colors here, see, the stark contrast between the light and the dark? That’s the use of tenebrism, popularised by Caravaggio.”

“Hm,” you note, eyes wandering around the painting. It’s a stunning piece of work, and Mikeden captured the likeness of the male form well. The extreme contrast almost seems to frame the figures with a halo, a light that blooms from their very center to strike at the viewer’s attention. “They’re quite handsome.”

Marius makes a sound at the back of his throat. “You’re more into modern men, jiejie.”

You hide your laugh behind a cough. He’s like a needy kitten pawing at you for attention, and you’re helpless against someone this cute. 

“Yes, yes, look at how handsome you are,” you say, turning around to face him head-on. You reach out, smoothing the non-existent creases away from his button-down. 

Without really thinking too deeply, your fingers linger on the stretch of the fabric across his chest—the thought that you can see them if you squint hard enough comes unbidden to your mind. The small bumps under the fabric, stiff from the slight chill of the room. 

It’s the kind of thought that grips you by the throat, sitting in your mind and taking up space, holding you captive until you do something about it. 

You brush your thumb against one of them, just because they’re right there, because you can, because Marius’ hands are on your hips and you’re feeling a little… playful. 

Immediately, a hand catches your wrist. It doesn’t stop you from pressing the pad of your thumb lightly against that raised bump, and Marius’ breath hitches. His fingers flex against your wrist, hard enough that you can’t help but smile. 

He’s usually the one making you flush in public, so you mark this as a victory. The sight of him, red-faced and pouting, heart pounding so desperately you can feel it through his chest—you pull your hand back, and he lets you go. That hand drops back to your waist as you bring your thumb to your lips, and you hold Marius’ gaze as the tip of your tongue darts out to lick your thumb.

Marius goes still. It’s as if he’s nothing more than one of the paintings hung up on the gallery walls, with how still he is; his pupils are blown wide and he gives you this shaken look, as if you’ve completely disarmed him. Swept him off his feet and left him grasping at straws to find the words to say. 

Eventually, you go back to smoothing out his shirt. Properly, this time. No messing around.

“You’re driving me crazy,” Marius murmurs, his breath puffing against the curve of your throat as he leans down. His voice is soft, barely louder than a whisper, but it somehow feels deafening in the quiet of the room. 

Your hands tighten around the front of his shirt. “Marius?”

“Be quiet for a moment,” he says. His fingers rest on your hips and you swear you can feel the heat radiating off his palms. It makes you want to shuffle away, pull back and put some space between the both of you—he doesn’t do anything, doesn’t tighten his grip, but his hands somehow get heavier. Like a weighted blanket resting around your waist, shackles holding you in place without really holding you at all. 

Your heart kicks in your chest. It isn’t often that Marius gets this way, so quiet and possessive, like he has to cage you in a small corner and watch you to make sure you don’t get away. His forehead rests against your clavicle—it’s not a comfortable position, not when he’s so much taller and he’s pressed up so closely against you that you can feel the way his chest shivers when he drags in a long breath. 

“Jiejie,” Marius whispers, voice quiet. “Sometimes, I wish I could wrap you up like a piece of art and hang you on my wall.”

He’s crazy, you think, and you realise even your subconscious thoughts have taken on this air of fondness when thinking of him.

“Is that so?” You reply, voice just as hushed. From the corner of your eye, you can see another patron glance at the both of you—they glance away, then look back, as if doubting their gaze. Yes, you think weakly to yourself, Marius is indeed clinging to you in the middle of a public gallery for expensive artworks that easily go for three times the price of your apartment. “Which wall will you put me up on?”

This time, Marius’ grip tightens imperceptibly on your hips. “Any wall that jiejie wants to be put up on,” he says huskily. His voice has dropped an octave, and the tone he takes is one that you’ve become very familiar with when you tease each other. Never enough to really commit to anything, not yet, but enough that Marius gets that look in his eyes like he’d very much want to stop being a gentleman about things. 

Abruptly, you notice the double entendre. “Marius!”

“You asked,” he says smugly, lifting his head so you come face to face with the smirk pulling at his lips. He tugs you in to press your body fully up against his, hip to shoulder. “Is jiejie shy now? I can tell you about which walls I’ve thought about you up on—my bedroom, naturally, but the living room is a strong contender.”

You gape at him, too shocked to say something smart in return. “You—! Not so loud, we’re in public!”

“No one’s listening.” Marius tilts his head, giving the surroundings a cursory once over before catching your gaze. “They’re busy looking at the art on display. I’m looking at a different kind of art on display.”

He’s so shameless that it makes you want to burst out in laughter. A different kind of art on display? Who does he think he is, a host from a host club? Where did he learn these phrases from? The Internet? His brother? Worse, Vyn? 

The thought of Marius asking the one and only Vyn Richter for advice on how to pick girls up makes you laugh. 

“You think you’re so smooth,” you say helplessly, lips curving up of their own accord as you reach up to loop your arms around Marius’ neck. “You think I’m going to fall for that?”

“I’m not a gambling man,” Marius tells you, a confident glint in his eye, “but I’ve always been lucky.” 

He puts up a strong front, but you know better. The back of his neck is hot from embarrassment. The tips of his ears are flushed red. You brush a stray strand of hair past the shell of his ear and pinch the crimson tip along the way. 

“Jiejie,” Marius whines, caught in the act. “Come on, let me pretend for a bit. Don’t you want to come home with me and have a better time?” 

He gives you this beseeching look, brows furrowed and lips turned down. You’re weak to that look—it’s suckered you into agreeing to far more things than you normally would have agreed to. But how can you say no to a face like that? To a man built like that, shoulders so broad they could dwarf you in a hug, fingers so long they could encircle your wrist, a face like God himself came down to carve it from marble—when Marius looks at you with that pleading gaze, millimeters away from begging, how can you say no to anything he asks for? 

Perhaps a stronger man would be able to resist the power of Marius’ visual attack. But you never proclaimed to have a strong willpower, and you fold like a castle of cards in a stiff breeze. 

“Let’s finish looking at all the works first. And no, just because you know who the artist is and insist that you could bring me over to his studio to see his other works—that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see the works exhibited here.”

“His art isn’t even that good,” Marius says, just to be contrary. “If you really wanted to see something from him, you should see his sculptures. I’ll admit those are impressive.”

“Finish the gallery, and then we can go home. You get to pick dinner.”

He perks up. “Italian or Chinese?”

“Later,” you insist. “I want to see this painting—” you glance at the title, raising an eyebrow when you catch sight of it, “—Lotus III.”

“Inspired by the same lotus garden that was featured in Lotus 0, Lotus I and Lotus II,” Marius grumbles as he takes one hand off your waist. You slide your hands down his shoulders, his chest, and furtively pat him on the ass before letting him go. 

He jumps, eyes wide as he swivels his head around to look at you. You give him an innocent look in return. 

“If you insist on being naughty, jiejie, don’t be surprised if I snatch you away and kidnap you back home.” The hand still on your waist squeezes in warning, and heat slithers down your back at the tone in his voice. 

You put a hand over the one on your waist, sliding your fingers in between his. “Be good.”

“Good boys get rewards. Is there a reward waiting for me later, jiejie?”

Naughty, you think to yourself, side-eying him. There’s a charming smile on his face, not even bothering to hide the playfulness lurking beneath his eyes. He’s testing you, pushing and pulling at your limits to see how far you can bend over backwards. 

“Maybe,” you reply. It’s never a good thing to reveal all your cards too early when dealing with a von Hagen in a playful mood. 

Marius laughs, leaning in to press his lips against the side of your head. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

The way he practically attaches himself to your hip, thumb rubbing possessively over your waist—you can’t help the flush crawling up to your cheeks, or the heat that flares between your legs. His hold on you isn’t tight, but it isn’t loose either. It reeks of a promise, and you can’t help but look forward to what that will happen once the two of you get back to his house. Or what will happen once you get into his car, when Marius has you right where he wants you to be and there’s enough privacy for something to happen. 

You shift, thighs rubbing together involuntarily at the stray thought. Desire slips through your body like a snake coiling in your veins; if you cling a little tighter to Marius in return, your mind only half-focused on the works displayed on the walls, well, no one will know. 

You think Marius might suspect something, though, going by the way his smirk grows larger with every glance he shoots you from the corner of his eye. 

Like he’s found something he can’t take his eyes off. Like he’s found something he likes. 

You fail to give Mikeden the attention his works deserve for the rest of the time you spend in the gallery, but he’s truly friends with Marius then you think the man won’t mind too much.

==

To your surprise, Marius doesn’t immediately scoop you into his lap when you get into the car. 

He leans over to help you pull the seatbelt, and very conveniently buries his face in your neck for half a second before he pulls back. Long enough for him to press his lips against your collarbone, the tip of his tongue swiping wetly against your skin; short enough for you to wonder if you hallucinated it.

But the smug look in his eyes as he pulls the seatbelt over your chest to click it into place tells you that you most definitely did not hallucinate it. 

“Home first,” Marius tells you, pretending to be casual as he leans back in his seat and does his own seatbelt. “If you keep looking at me with those eyes, jiejie, I can’t promise I’ll keep my hands to myself while we’re on the road back.”

Right, you think dazedly. You’d forgotten Marius had decided to drive the both of you here—it wasn’t far from his place, and the both of you typically take a chauffeured car, but Marius wanted to do something special today. You haven’t been on a date in a while due to your unfortunate work schedule, and it definitely surprised you when Marius pulled up to your apartment in the driver’s seat, the window wound down, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he grinned at you. 

“What a shame,” you murmur under your breath, watching as he does his own seatbelt before pulling out of the parking lot. 

Your words make Marius stiffen. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, one hand resting lazily on the steering wheel as the other finds its way to your knee. 

Again with that loose grip that feels like a shackle holding you in place. Marius isn’t doing anything more than just placing his hand over your knee—there’s not even any real pressure behind, no force or flexing or tightening of his grip, but you feel weighed down. You feel held down.

You wonder, a little stupidly, if Marius would do something if you spread your legs apart. 

But you’re on the road. Despite the heat flaring insistently in your gut, you’re not actually ready to risk it all while Marius is behind the wheel. It would have been a different story if the both of you were in the back seat with the partition drawn up. The ride back is what, ten, fifteen minutes? There’s a lot you can get done in that period of time.

Right as you resign yourself to a normal, quick ride back home, Marius’ hand slips a little.

Just a little. It’s so subtle that if it weren’t for the heat practically bleeding through his palms, you think you wouldn’t have noticed. 

His hand goes from right above your knee to cupping the inside of your knee. 

You eye him speculatively. Was it inertia? The car made a turn and his hand simply slipped with the centrifugal force? 

His lips quirk up. “I’ll get shy if you keep looking at me, jiejie. I need to focus on the road.”

“Hm,” you say, feeling your cunt clench involuntarily when Marius’ hand moves further up your thigh. It’s not in direct contact with your skin, not when there’s your silk dress in between, but the material is thin and you swear you can feel the calluses from Marius’ fingers rubbing gently against the sensitive inside of your thigh. 

Fifteen minutes, you think. Surely you can’t die from a little fun on the road. 

“Your hand’s on the wrong place,” you murmur, gently placing your hand over his. 

Marius hums at the back of his throat. “Ah? Sorry, I—jiejie.”

You lift his hand off your thigh for a quick moment, draw apart the slit of your dress, and slide his hand under the fabric.

Directly on your thigh. You even curve his fingers back down so he can maintain that grip on you.

You can see his fingers flex. They’re stiff, knuckles tense as if he doesn’t know what to do with himself. When you peek at him, his ears are flushed a bright red and his Adam’s Apple bobs furiously, like he’s swallowing desperately. 

And right between his thighs, you can see a tent in his trousers. You kind of want to reach out to touch it, but you hold yourself back. 

“Jiejie,” he whines, and chances a glance at you before reluctantly dragging his eyes back to the road. “I was joking—you can’t distract me while I’m driving.”

“I’m not doing anything,” you say mildly, burying the laugh that threatens to escape when his fingers squeeze pointedly around your thigh. The grave you dug is for both of you; his hand is higher now, on your thigh, so close to your core that one road bump would probably be reason enough for his fingers to slide right home. 

You almost want to pretend to jerk forward. But you have enough of your wits about you to recognise that if Marius felt the heat of your pussy through your panties press up against his fingertips at this moment, he would probably drive the car into the nearest building. 

“I’m trying to be good,” Marius complains. His fingers keep twitching against your skin, as if he’s really, physically holding himself back from doing something. 

“Good boys get rewards,” you echo, patting the back of his palm. “We’re almost home, see the gates up in front?”

He clicks his tongue. “As if I can focus on anything right now.” To prove his point, he speeds up, leg bouncing impatiently as he turns into the driveway. “Park, I have to park…”

The whole time, his hand doesn’t leave your thigh. And there’s something really sexy about it, you can’t help but realise—the slant of his jaw from the side, the way driving comes so easily to him, where he only needs one hand to maneuver the wheel. Even the way he looks over his shoulder as he eases into his parking spot makes you want to press your thighs together in a useless attempt to stave off the heat building in your core. 

“Good enough,” Marius declares, switching the engine off. “Out, out, come on—”

He snaps the seatbelt off and practically flies out the car. You’re so taken aback that you’re still in your seat when he comes to your side and yanks the door open, petulance written all over his face when he finds you still strapped in. 

“C’mon,” he whines, reaching over to unbuckle your seatbelt. “Jiejie, come on, come on—”

“Impatient,” you chide, even as you reach out to steady yourself while you exit the car. “Hold on, my heels—”

“Jiejie,” Marius says, and he seriously sounds like he’s about to burst. 

In that split second, you make a decision. Your panties are ruined as is, and you really, really want to be filled right now. You’re not sure if you can make the distance from the car to the lift, especially when the garage is so fucking huge—

“Backseat,” you murmur, and Marius reacts much faster than you expect. He pulls you up and into his chest, making you let out a sound of surprise at how aggressive he is, but he’s surprisingly gentle when he cups your jaw and slants his lips over yours. 

It’s a desperate kiss. Marius licks into your mouth, hands tight around your waist as he pulls you in close. The bulge in his slacks feels like it’s burning a brand into your hip—you want to skate your hands down, cup that swollen cock and rub your thumb over the tip. You’ve never seen it, not yet, but the two of you have fooled around every now and then so you’re somewhat familiar with the curve of his cock through his pants. 

It’s a hefty weight in your fingers, and Marius always makes the most delicious sounds when you rock your hips against him, squeezing around his thigh between your legs as you trace over the outline of his cock. 

“Fuck,” Marius curses. His fingers dig greedily into the sides of your body—the grip now is entirely different from the one at the museum. The positions are roughly the same, but this time he holds you like he’s trying to burn his brand into you, leave an imprint of bruises around your waist so you ache every time you move tomorrow morning. “Fuck, jiejie, your mouth—”

“Mmhmm,” you hum into his mouth, shoving one thigh between his legs so you can get a good seat on Marius’ thigh. It’s as if Marius has a direct line of sight into your mind—he hikes you up on his thigh so the hard line of his muscle presses right into the swell of your clit, and you groan out loud as you start rocking against his thigh. 

Fuck, you think you could cum like this. Marius’ hands have dropped lower, cupping the curve of your ass and every squeeze he makes goes straight to your cunt like there’s a livewire connection. He pulls you so high up that you’re struggling to keep your toes on the ground, and Marius is practically pulling you back and forth on his leg, helping you rut against him. 

His breath is hot. His kisses are searing, and it feels like there’s a nonstop feedback loop where your arousal pours into each other over and over again. It’s a fire in your gut, threatening to eat you alive, and when he pulls back to catch his breath, he immediately bows down to lick against your jaw. 

Marius sucks at your skin, bullying a bruise into the underside of your jaw. He isn’t satisfied with just one, and he just keeps going down the expanse of your neck, biting at any patch of unblemished skin. 

“Baby,” you whisper, one hand trailing down to press your palm over the tight bulge begging for attention. The lightest touch is enough to make Marius groan, hips stuttering as he chases your touch. “Can I—can I touch?”

Marius freezes for a heartbeat. Before you can second guess yourself, he moans into your neck, hips jerking as he pushes his clothed cock into your palm. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants, nodding while avoiding eye contact with you.

His ears are crimson. So cute, you can’t help but think through the fever in your mind. It’s almost too easy to find your way around the button in his pants, and there’s some trouble with getting the zipper down from how hard he is. His briefs get caught for a moment, long enough to make Marius groan from frustration, but you shush him with another slide of your hips, cunt wet enough to drench his slacks, and Marius shuts up. 

“Good boy,” you murmur breathlessly, arching your back so you get a better angle to grind your clit against his thigh. “Be good, come on, let me—”

Unfortunately, there are no flaps in briefs for you to pull his cock out from. You reach in instead, shivering at the proper weight of it in your palm—skin on skin, you think deliriously to yourself, cunt clenching at the feeling of Marius’ cock in your hand. His cock, so thick that you can’t even really wrap your fingers around it properly, and the head is dripping. 

Marius sucks in a tight breath, cursing as he cants his hips up, almost bouncing you on his lap from the force. 

“Jiejie,” he begs, plaintive and desperate. “Nngh, please, the tip, you need to—fuck, I’m not going to—I’m going to cum, jiejie…”

And you stop thinking. You grab one of his hands and drag it to your front, so commandingly that Marius’ head flies up. His eyes are red, lips parted as he sucks in a shaky breath every time you swipe your thumb across the sensitive slit at the head of his cock. 

“In, inside,” you whine, rising as high as you can go on your toes. It’s not very high, given how far up Marius has pulled you onto his thigh, but it’s enough for your to drag his long fingers under your skirt and press them up against your cunt. 

Marius’ eyes are blown wide. “In-inside?” He stammers, fingers crooking automatically to press against the throbbing bud of your clit. Such clever fucking fingers, already familiar with the shape of your cunt to know where your clit is. 

Without needing much direction, he uses two fingers to drag your soaked panties to the side and rubs the knuckle of his index finger against your pussy. 

“A-ah,” you cry out, hips jerking. Fuck, you understand now why Marius reacted like that when you got your hand on his cock—there’s something about the texture of his skin, the calluses on his fingers that’s stroking the sides of your pussy, the sheer heat radiating off him—and the knowledge, the knowledge that it’s his hands on your cunt. After months of frotting, the most you’ve done being Marius’s palm flat against your cunt while you held eye contact and grinded against his shaking palm until you cummed—

“Inside, baby, come on,” you plead, rocking your hips insistently against his curious fingers. 

Again, it’s like Marius gets you. He sinks his index finger in; you think he wanted to go slow, because he tentatively pressed up into your cunt, but you’re greedy and you’ve been thinking of being filled since Marius made that joke about putting you up against a wall and you whine, rocking forward until you sink down, down, all the way down to the base and Marius’ breath is hitching in his throat. 

“You’re—” his finger bends, the tip brushing against this spot inside you that makes your entire body shiver, threatening to bend in half from the electricity that surges through you. “Shit, you’re—fuck, jiejie, you feel fucking incredible.”

“One more,” you beg, holding his wrist in place while you clench around his finger. Christ, you didn’t think it could feel this good. It’s so foreign, so much longer and thicker than your fingers—and again, the knowledge that it’s Marius’ hand, Marius’ finger is enough to make your gut tighten and sparks burst at the very end of your fingertips. “One more and my—”

You break off, thighs trembling when he swipes against your swollen clit with his thumb.

Marius groans at the sight of you, leaning in to bite at your lips. “One more and my thumb on your clit? Is that what you want, jiejie? Is that what you need?”

“Mmhmm—ahhhhhn, fuck, Marius—please, please, I’m so fucking close—!”

You’re not even sure if you’re still stroking the length of his cock. All your senses have narrowed down to your cunt, the pressure on your clit and the way his fingers have gained confidence with every stroke—he fucks up into you with such surety, so certain that he knows exactly where to hit to get that same, body shivering reaction from you.

The worst part is, he does. It barely takes one, two, three strokes while he whispers filthy things about how hot and wet and slick your cunt is, about how it’s soaked through just for him, about how he wants to bury his face in it, please jiejie, please let him put your thighs around his ears and eat you out, and you’re gone. 

It hits you so hard you think you almost pass out. The ascent comes too quickly; it almost feels like the orgasm is ripped from you from clever hands that know you better than you know yourself. It leaves you breathless, your entire body jerking uncontrollably as you whine, pussy clenching around those two thick fingers buried in your cunt. You’re mumbling nonsense, not even sure what you’re saying as your cunt gushes around Marius’ ruined pants and when you resurface, Marius looks at you like you’re the second coming of Christ.

It takes you both a while to get your breathing under control. Marius recovers first, gently sliding his fingers out of your cunt. You’re a little embarrassed at the absolute mess you’ve made, but Marius eyes the wetness dripping over his palm, down his wrist, and decides to drag his tongue along his skin to lick it all up.

He even looks right as you as he does it. The sight is enough to make your clit throb, as if gearing up for a second round. Oh, you could definitely do a second round, but you think you’d prefer for it to be in a room with a bed and not a garage.

Almost absentmindedly, you start to rub your thumb against the cockhead in your grip.

“F-fuck,” Marius groans lowly, free hand reaching out to grab your wrist. “Wait, wait—nnngh, sensitive. Give me a moment.”

You pause. You look down.

His briefs are stained. There’s a massive wet spot at the front, and when you drag your fingers out, they’re coated in a sticky, white fluid. 

You look Marius in the eye as you, too, lift your fingers to your lips. You stick your tongue out, wiping the threads of cum on your tongue so Marius can see how white looks in your mouth—and he flushes even redder than he already is, eyes darting away before darting back, as if he can’t decide whether he wants to look or not—and then you swallow. 

Marius is speechless for a while. 

“That was really hot,” he says eventually, voice hoarse. “I—fuck, jiejie, I can go again. I’m serious, just give me a minute.” 

You suck on your fingertips for a moment. You’re clearly ready for a second round, but you know he gets more desperate when you keep him hanging. And a desperate Marius is always a delight to work with. 

“Bedroom?” You suggest, and your cunt tightens at the way his eyes immediately go dark with desire.

==

© rrrrinmaru 2024 | no unauthorised publication or reproduction allowed

[cheriladycl01]

Cupid and Me - Yuki Tsunoda x ColombianOlympicArchery! Reader

Plot: Yuki loves watching archery… and of course he supports the Japanese Team, however he can’t help being entranced by the Colombian Lady, and he thinks it’s time to become Cupid himself even though your aim is way better!

Yuki was always into sports, not just karting going into F1 but he loved Golf, Football, Swimming, he loved it all. So when AlphaTauri gave him the chance to go and watch the summer Olympics for a few days in the off season as a means for content he was so excited to be a part of it.

He started off his day watching a Basketball match. He sat watching happily to see who would win between Finland and China.

The atmosphere was always so incredible and the amount of different fans you would that had travelled half way across the world just to see these sports and people compete for their country was incredible.

The next place he was to go to, was Archery. He was extremely excited, knowing the people he’d be rooting for were good at these kinds of sports that required that extra level of intellect and precision.

While he held up his Japanese flag for the woman who currently held the highest score of the match, having a bullseye and a few 8’s and 9’s his gaze wondered over to you, who was just about to start.

You were tall, fierce and your sleek dark hair up in a claw clip keeping it in place out of your face.

Now Yuki didn’t believe in love at first sight but when he saw you pull back the now and line it up close to your nose to get the perfect shot, and he saw you immediately hit a 9 and celebrate in a loud and almost boisterous manner he couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter.

It was stupid really, he was there in the stands waving a Japanese flag to support his own country and his people, but you stood there with the Colombian flag on the back of your team gear along with your name and number he couldn’t help it.

As the game went on, he found himself learning more about you, from the way you talked to the other contenders with a bright smile on your face, or nodding your head while your trainer chatted your ear of no doubt about strategy and where you were lacking, not that Yuki thought you were, you were storming your contestants.

“Can I get a picture with the winner, I think it’ll be good for content?” He asked once it was obvious you were going to be the winner.

“Yea, let’s pray the Japanese team pull through so you can hold the flag up together but that Colombian girl, Y/N is the Archer himself!” She exclaims seeing Y/N pull another bullseye.

You ended up winning gold, a Japanese girl called Ai and an American called April.

“Y/N there’s someone who wants to take a picture with you and meet you” you trainer says as you finish your celebrations holding up the other girls flags while they had pictures with their flowers before they held up yours.

“Oh yeah who is it!” You smile, wondering if it was a fan or another celebrity.

“It’s Yuki Tsunoda? He’s a Japanese F1 driver!” She answers and you nod, being sort of familiar with the popular driving sport.

“Sure, where is he! Send him my way!” You grinned excited to meet another athlete.

Yuki came in and you were shocked to see how short he was, around 5’2 whereas you were around 5’7. But he was cutely pocked sized - how on Earth was he an F1 driver.

You were in thought as he shyly came up to you. Be polite, great him in his own language.

“Kon'nichiwa” you test, with a polite bow. You’d learnt greetings in most languages, as an Olympian it was always in your mind that you should hold the upmost respect to your competitors.

“Oh, you speak Japanese?” He asks with an even shyer smile on his face.

“Jakkan” you grin indicating that you only knew a little bit of the language, with a wolffish type of smile that had Yuki’s face bursting with Red as he couldn’t take his gaze from you and how captivating you were.

“Okay, how about that photo?” The Alphatauri manager asks directing you to to stand next to each other.

“Hey, you want to wear my medal?” You’d asked him, another grin on your face as you stated to take it off from around you next.

“No no no. It’s yours!” He cries as if it’s the most outrageous thing ever, but you stop him and place it around his neck! In the photo you have your arm around his shoulder your opposite hand pointing to the medal with your mouth open in an excited way.

Yuki is all smiles and before you know it, the managers have left the pair of you alone and your both talking.

He’s asking you about how you got into archery and your talking about how he got into F1 and how it feels to drive a car as quickly as that, and when you both delve a little deeper you find the feels of releasing the arrow and launching as the lights go out isn’t too dissimilar.

“You want to join me for dinner?” You ask boldly, not that it was a scary situation for you, you were normally quiet upfront when it came to things like this so it didn’t feel too odd.

“Yes, I think I’d really enjoy that!” He smiled.

And that was the start of a beautiful new relationship formed through observation, love at first sight and a little help in hand from Cupid.

y/user

Liked by yukitsunoda0511 and alphatauri

y/user: Met a guy, became Cupid 💘 made him fall in love with me 😉

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yukitsunoda0511: I tried to be Cupid first - but her aim is too good!

-> y/user: I’m just too appealing! Love you Yuki 🥰

fan1: omggggg the height difference between them is just so cute!

pierregasly: Yuki my friend, you fell hard! But you picked a good one!

alphatauri: New WAG Alert! We love you Y/N!

fan2: oh she’s the one … I know it - that is the look of love!

Instagram Story Caption:

Back at it again 🇨🇴 ¡Buenos Días Mis Amigas!

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[silverskye13]

……. What would happen if any of the main cast learnt that Helsknight had a rap battle with Wels and is there any possible way they can get their hands on a copy of it?

Tanguish: Already knows the rap battle exists because Helsknight told him, but is overjoyed when he finally gets to hear it. He tries really hard not to laugh at the cheesier lines, and gets very quiet when Wels sings the final verses.

EB: Laughs obnoxiously through the entire rap battle. "You said what?! Oh my gods. You're a force of chaos that's adorable!" He apologizes when Helsknight is clearly embarrassed, and tries to keep everyone else from teasing him... Too much.

Martyn: Also laughing obnoxiously, and critiques some of the lines and rhymes. "Fat diamond stacks? You're serious?" His digs get a little harsh sometimes, but Helsknight can take it, and having one more thing to stir the knight up with brings him immense joy. For weeks afterwards he drops random quotes from the rap in the middle of conversation just to get on people's nerves. He's been given ammunition and by the gods he's using it!

Red: "Er... Not yer... Strongest poetry work lad, though I admit the beat and measure be quite pleasing to hear. Ye and yer other half have similar voices that border on the uncanny, ye ken? This, er, Champion Wels-- sorry, just a knight? Right. The knight Wels, he seems a bit... Invested in yer downfall. Ye be sure he is contained on his world? Me Hand, ye should be taking this more seriously. He be threatening one of our own, be he not? Should we not be more concerned about this?"