#There's something else going on with that dude right

[be4chywritez]

shot to the heart (and the nose) | luke hughes

luke hughes x fem!reader

You come home from college and Luke is smitten...maybe a little too smitten

beachy’s masterlist🐚

requests are open!

part two!

Growing up next door to the Hughes family meant one thing—hockey was a religion.

It was loud, it was competitive, and it was everywhere. If the Hughes brothers weren’t on the ice, they were playing in the driveway, tracking in mud from the lake, or tossing pucks against the garage door until Ellen threatened to take their sticks away.

And you?

You were the neighbor kid. Not quite in the mix, but not completely out of it either.

Your families were close—vacations together, barbecues in the summer, Christmas parties in the winter. You and the Hughes boys had spent years at each other’s birthday parties, running through sprinklers, roasting marshmallows, and competing over who could eat the most popsicles before Jim made you all go inside.

But if hockey was the Hughes brothers’ thing, quiet was yours.

Luke, in particular, had always been the opposite of quiet. He was the one making up rules for backyard games, the one yelling over everyone else, the one who would get so frustrated when you’d rather sit and watch than dive into the chaos.

He never bullied you for it, not in the way other kids might have, but he pushed—nudging you toward the action, insisting you could keep up, making sure you weren’t left out.

Jack and Quinn weren’t much different. Jack, the natural show-off, would always try to impress you (even if you weren’t watching), and Quinn, forever the responsible older brother, would make sure you didn’t get completely trampled by their energy.

Then, of course, you all grew up.

You spent high school buried in books and extracurriculars, aiming for an Ivy League acceptance letter. Luke spent it on the ice, chasing the NHL dream.

By senior year, your friendship had faded into nothing more than polite nods and see you at Christmas waves across the room.

And then you left for college.

Luke got drafted.

Life moved on.

Coming home after months at school was weird.

The air smelled the same, the roads felt the same, but you didn’t feel the same. Maybe it was the time away, or maybe it was the fact that being home again made you realize just how much things had changed.

The car rumbled up your street, your mom chatting about how good it is to have you back while you stared out the window.

And across the driveway, in the Hughes' kitchen, three heads turned in unison.

Jack was the first to react. He dropped his sandwich. Fully dropped it. “Holy shit.”

Quinn, still chewing, furrowed his brows. “What?”

Luke didn’t say anything, just stared.

Because there you were, climbing out of the car—same face, same features, but different.

College had done something to you. Or maybe you’d just grown into yourself.

Jack nudged Luke’s arm, grinning. “Dude. You seeing this?”

Luke was seeing it. That was the problem.

You were tan, your hair was different, your shorts were short, and fuck, had your legs always looked like that?

“Oh my god,” Quinn muttered, leaning against the counter. “Luke, close your mouth.”

Luke snapped his mouth shut, scowling. “Shut up.”

Jack just smirked. “Bet she still won’t talk to you.”

Luke rolled his eyes, but for once, he didn’t have a comeback.

A few days later, you were walking up your driveway when you spotted Luke in his front yard.

He had his shirt on this time (unfortunately so) wearing a Team USA tee with the sleeves cut off, and ripping shots into the net with a ridiculous amount of force.

You should’ve known better.

Really, you should have known better.

Because one second, he was shooting.

And the next—

Crack.

Right to the face.

“Holy shit!”

Luke dropped his stick so fast it clattered against the pavement. In seconds, he was in front of you, hands hovering like he wasn’t sure if he should touch you or not.

“Oh my god, oh my god, I didn’t see you,” he rambled, eyes darting between your nose and your expression. “Are you—holy shit, you’re bleeding.”

You groaned, pressing your fingers to your face. “Luke. What the fuck.”

“I swear I didn’t see you—”

“No shit.”

Luke winced. “Okay, yeah, that’s fair.” He ripped his shirt off in one smooth motion, bunching it up before carefully pressing it against your nose. “Here, hold this.”

You blinked. “Did you just—”

“Sacrificed my shirt for you? Yeah.”

“Oh, so chivalrous.”

Luke huffed out a laugh, tilting your chin up slightly to examine the damage. His hands were warm, calloused from years of hockey, and being this close to him was… distracting.

His eyes flickered over your face, studying you.

“You look… different,” he murmured, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

You swallowed. “So do you.”

Luke smirked. “Yeah?”

And that was when you realized—he was still holding your chin.

And smiling at you.

And looking so unfairly good doing it.

You exhaled sharply. “Quit smiling at me.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I feel weird.”

For a second, he didn’t say anything.

And then—

His grin widened, slow and lazy. “Huh.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said easily. “Just thinking I should smile at you more often.”

You groaned, shoving his chest. “Oh my god.”

Luke just laughed, but then his expression sobered. “C’mon, let’s go inside. Mom’ll kill me if I leave you out here bleeding.”

Before Luke could even pull you up, the door to the Hughes house slammed open.

Jack and Quinn came speed-walking—borderline running—toward you, eyes bouncing between Luke, you, and the blood dripping down your face.

Jack, of course, spoke first.

“Oh my god, did Luke hit you?”

You groaned, still pressing Luke’s (formerly white) Team USA shirt to your nose. “You say that like he didn’t just slapshot a puck into my face.”

Quinn sighed, looking so unimpressed. “Jesus, Luke.”

Luke, still crouched next to you, lifted his hands in exasperation. “I didn’t see her! I was just—”

Jack cackled, pointing at Luke like he’d just won the lottery. “You obliterated her!”

“Jack,” you deadpanned. “Not helping.”

Jack waved you off. “No, no, because this is insane. You come back from college looking totally different, and the second Luke sees you, he shoots his shot—literally.”

Luke groaned, running a hand down his face. “Jack, I swear to—”

Jack ignored him. “I mean, I knew he was gonna lose it when he saw you again, but this—this is next level.”

Luke shoved him. “Can you shut up?”

Quinn, ever the responsible older brother, rolled his eyes. “Alright, let’s get her inside before she passes out in our driveway.”

Jack smirked. “Or before Luke confesses his love again.”

Luke shoved him harder.

You just sighed.

The moment you stepped into the house, the familiar warmth of the Hughes home hit you—laundry detergent, whatever Quinn had been cooking earlier, and a faint trace of hockey gear.

And then—

“Oh my god!”

Ellen practically flew down the stairs, eyes zeroing in on your face.

Jim followed behind her, frowning. “Jesus, what happened?”

Jack, still very much enjoying the situation, grinned. “Oh, you know. Luke saw her for the first time in, like, a year and immediately tried to take her out.”

Luke groaned. “That is not what happened.”

Ellen, ignoring them, cupped your face as gently as she could, careful not to touch your nose. “Sweetheart, oh my gosh! You’re hurt!”

Jack, ever the instigator, added, “She is hurt, but also—she looks amazing, right?”

Ellen’s eyes flickered over your face—well, the parts of it that weren’t covered in blood—and beamed. “Oh, honey, you are stunning! Look at you! College has done wonders for you.”

You blinked. “Uh—”

Jim raised an eyebrow. “Ellen, she’s bleeding.”

Ellen waved him off. “Yes, yes, I see that, but look at how grown up she is!” She turned to Quinn. “Quinn, tell me she doesn’t look gorgeous.”

Quinn, handing Luke an ice pack, huffed out a laugh. “She does.”

Jack smirked. “Luke sure thinks so.”

Luke whipped around. “Jack, I will actually—”

Jim chuckled, finally stepping in. “Alright, El, let’s fix her up before we start matchmaking.”

Luke, still looking like he desperately wanted to disappear, guided you to the kitchen table and sat you down. “Okay, let me—uh—yeah, just—” He fumbled with the ice pack, hands slightly shaky.

You raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”

He swallowed. “Yeah. Just—quit looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like—” Luke exhaled sharply. “Like that.”

You smirked. “Why?”

“Because I can’t stop messing up my sentences when you look at me like that.”

For a second, he didn’t say anything.

And then—

Jack howled. Quinn raised his eyebrows.

Ellen gasped like this was the best news she had heard all day.

Jim sighed, rubbing his temples. “Jesus Christ.”

Luke groaned.

And you?

You just smiled.

It was going to be a great summer.

part two!

[lazysoulwriter]

My Man, My Rules - Rafe Cameron

There was a fight. Of course, there was a fight.

Because Rafe Cameron couldn’t go one week without being knee-deep in some rich-kid drama.

And as usual, it all started with some guy looking at him the wrong way. Or maybe breathing too close. Or—God forbid—standing within a five-foot radius of her.

So now, here he was, blood dripping from his nose, shirt torn at the collar, grinning like he just won a championship fight, while his friends stood around awkwardly, avoiding her gaze.

She, on the other hand, was livid.

“Oh, great. Just fucking great,” she started, storming up to him. “Again, Rafe? You really have one brain cell, and you let Topper borrow it for the night, huh?”

“Baby—”

“No.” She raised a finger, effectively shutting him up. “I swear to God, Cameron, if you get into one more fight, I will personally beat your ass myself.”

The entire party went silent.

Kelce let out a low whistle. Topper looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole. Even the guy Rafe had just fought—some dude from Chapel Hill who probably just wanted a beer—was staring like he had just witnessed something far more terrifying than Rafe Cameron’s right hook.

Rafe, though? He just looked amused.

“You done?” he asked, licking his busted lip.

She stepped closer, grabbing his face with both hands. “Oh, I am not done. In fact, I’m just getting started. Because you know what, Rafe? You’re mine. My man. And that means I get to decide if you’re allowed to get your dumb ass into fights.”

He blinked. “I’m… not allowed?”

“That’s right,” she snapped. “Not. Allowed. What the fuck do you think this is? Some fight club for trust fund babies? No, sir. We are done with this. From now on, I make the rules. You got a problem with someone? You tell me. You feel like punching someone? You tell me. You wanna get your knuckles bloody? I will find you a punching bag, Rafe Cameron, but it will NOT be at a fucking country club party.”

Rafe looked at her for a long second. Then, he smirked. “Kinda hot when you boss me around like that.”

She groaned, letting go of his face only to smack the back of his head. “Are you hearing me? You are banned from fighting. BANNED.”

“Banned?”

“BANNED.”

“…Like, for life?”

“Oh my fucking God—”

She turned to the crowd, gesturing wildly. “Does ANYONE else want to tell this idiot what I’m saying before I lose my mind?”

Kelce coughed. “I think she means you’re not supposed to fight anymore, bro.”

Rafe scoffed. “Yeah, no shit, Kelce—”

She grabbed his chin again, forcing him to look at her. “Do. You. Understand. Me?”

His smirk softened just a little. “Yeah, baby. I understand.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Do you really?”

“I do.” He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to her nose. “I promise.”

She squinted, trying to decide if she believed him. Finally, she sighed and wiped some blood off his cheek with her sleeve. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I am cute,” he agreed. “And strong. And—”

“Do not make me take it back, Cameron.”

He grinned, wrapping an arm around her waist. “C’mon, let’s get outta here.”

She sighed dramatically but let him pull her away. “Fine. But if I ever catch you fighting again—”

“I know, I know. You’ll beat my ass.”

“Damn right, I will.”

Rafe smirked, tugging her even closer. “My scary little girlfriend.”

She rolled her eyes. “And don’t you forget it.”

[mikibwrites]

The Price is Right

inspired by @theweewooshow 's post about a kissing booth :) Happy Valentines Day everyone!

bucktommy | 1.4k | G | ao3

This is ridiculous. He’s officially lost his marbles. 

Tommy’s been in this line for at least fifteen minutes, and every third minute of that has been spent telling himself he should leave. The other 2 minutes of each spiraling cycle have been spent eavesdropping his fellow hopefuls in line, listening to their tittering about how hot the firefighter working this shift of the booth is, surreptitiously cataloguing every person that he can see in front of and behind him and evaluating them on what–little, sadly–he knows about Evan’s preferences and whether or not their dreams of bagging a date with him will come true. Which then, in turn, sends him back into spiraling and berating himself for being among them, given his history with said firefighter. 

He needs to leave. 

There are roughly ten people in front of him, and Evan definitely hasn’t spotted him yet. He could totally duck out and no one would be the wiser. He contemplates pulling his phone out of his pocket with an air of importance, putting the completely silent device to his ear and pretending something dire has just happened that requires his immediate attention. No one would question him for getting out of line, no one would suspect that he’d lost his nerve. They’d think, wow, he must be important to be needed somewhere so urgently. 

Tommy’s definitely, officially for real this time, lost his marbles. 

Also, there are now only seven people left in front of him. 

As he watches each person get their sweet little peck on the cheek, he tries to tell himself this is for a good cause. The money goes to charity. There’s nothing weird about giving to charity. Nothing at all. There’s also nothing stopping him from just dropping the money in the basket on a table near the door that’s designated for just plain donations. He doesn’t need to get anything out of it if that’s all he’s hoping to do. 

He’s definitely hoping to get something out of it. He can at least admit that to himself, if nothing else. 

Five people left. 

“Oh my god, he’s so hot,” Tommy hears from behind him. “Look at those arms. Hold me down, daddy.” He almost chokes, the girl’s voice clearly pitched for just her friend next to her to hear, but he’s apparently blessed with supersonic hearing. The friend chimes in as well. “I wonder if he’s actually a good kisser or if he’s one of those dudes who relies on his rizz alone and then can’t deliver when it counts.”

Tommy has no idea what ‘rizz’ is, but he has to physically stop himself from turning around and describing for this girl in detail just how good of a kisser Evan is, how well he can deliver. He’s sure that wouldn’t go over well. 

Two people left. Evan is being so gracious and attentive to each of his patrons that he still hasn’t noticed Tommy. He could still make a run for it. 

He’s not going to. 

There’s roughly enough time for one more cycle of spiraling before he makes it in front of Evan, but Tommy chooses to spend it going over what the hell he’s going to say. Surely, Evan may protest giving his ex a kiss, even if it’s for charity, given the way they ended. It’d be well within his right to do so. So Tommy needs to have some justifications ready just in case Evan gets the wrong idea here. 

And what is the idea? Tommy failed to decide before he attempted this ridiculous stunt. Honestly, he’s been so, so god damned touch starved since he walked out Evan’s door that he thinks he’d do anything for just a brush of fingertips from Evan at this point. And that’s it, really…he only wants it from Evan. His coworkers have told him multiple times that he needs to just go out and get his ex out of his system–Donato offered to wingperson for him, even–but the very idea turns his stomach. 

But did he actually think that throwing some money at charity at a kissing booth of all things was going to get them anywhere near a reconciliation? Jesus, he should have just texted. Not that he hasn’t tried that, many many many times, and all of them ended up deleted because regardless of what he likes to tell himself he does not have the courage to put himself out there without the reassurance–or despair–of seeing Evan’s actual expression when he says what he wants to say. 

Which is…what? Exactly? He still hasn’t deci–

“Tommy?”

Shit. He’s missed the last person in front of him getting their dutiful peck on the cheek, and now he’s run out of time. 

Evan’s voice as he says his name is full of awe, trepidation, and…dare he say it…hope? His expression is even more devastating: like he’s seeing the sunrise just beginning after a century spent underground. His narrowed eyes are earnest and a little guarded, but they are trained wholly on Tommy.

Shit….what was he going to say?

“Uh, yeah. Hi. I, um…well I. Uh.” Tommy runs his fingers over his hair roughly, feeling unbearably stupid and exposed. He should have run when he had the chance. “Look, Evan, I–”

Evan’s breath hitches audibly at the sound of his name. They’re staring at each other. 

“Shit or get off the pot, dude, we’re all paying customers!” Some guy further back in line is shouting. 

“Um. Did you want a kiss?” Evan says, his face turning pinker by the second. And this. This Tommy can definitely answer.

“Yes,” he says, with maybe a little too much conviction behind the word for their current circumstances. Evan seems to clock it immediately, his eyes flicking down to Tommy’s mouth before coming back up to his eyes, his expression morphing to hopeful disbelief. “But, I mean, you don’t have to, here, I know you probably weren’t expecting–”

Tommy’s words are cut off by Evan’s mouth sealing onto his. 

God, god, he’s missed these lips. Each slide is like a revelation, and the thought is not lost on him that they’re in the middle of what is essentially a work function, they are both in uniform for christ's sake, having a whole existential crisis shared along with their breath and space and saliva. Because yes, Evan has now bullied his insanely talented tongue right behind Tommy’s teeth and is exploring like he’s going to be asked to draw a map later. 

Evan kisses him long, hard, and thorough, endless seconds ticking by and Tommy definitely doesn’t listen to any of the complaining going on in the line behind him. Evan does, though, and he very reluctantly pulls his lips away from Tommy’s and blinks in the most adorably flustered way and Tommy’s so, so gone on this man. How did he ever walk away from this?

“Can we talk?” Evan asks breathlessly.

“Please. But maybe later. Your adoring public awaits,” he adds, gesturing with his thumb to the line behind him, still nearly thirty people strong. He can’t blame them, but he’s also feeling a tad possessive so he leans in one more time to press his lips to the apple of Evan’s cheek, causing the blush to intensify when he pulls away. 

Tommy begins to turn to walk away, his smile already making his cheeks sore when Evan clears his throat. He raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t pay, you know.” He’s smirking, the little shit. 

Before Tommy can make a move, someone in line shouts, “Damn! How much does it cost to get that?”

“That is not for sale,” Evan states with finality, but he’s still looking at Tommy, lips pursing, trying to hold back a full blown grin. There are a few groans from the line. 

Tommy reaches into his wallet, pulls out a $100, and slaps it on the table in front of Evan. “What time does your shift end?”

“In thirty minutes.”

“Meet me at the cafe two blocks down. Bring those lips. We’ll talk.” Tommy congratulates himself on being smooth as he smirks right back at the look on Evan’s face. 

“Mmm, okay. I’ll bring these lips. But I hope you remember they’re good for more than just talking,” Evan adds as Tommy turns to walk away. 

He retracts his self-congratulations as he trips over his own feet. 

[ishasturnz]

Cookies ‘n Head

based off this post @sunrisemill and this fic.

contains: porn with plot, counter head?, some fluff, i think thats it, male receiving.

Bsf!Reader x bsf!Chris

authors note: it took me like an hour to figure out a plot just for this because i wanna spoil you guys. Also click on the first message to see the full thing. And RUSHED and maybe a part 2.

wc: 579

character count: 2635

4:36

My car started to pull into his driveway, the smell of freshly baked cookies filling my nose slightly making me lightheaded.

I parked and stepped out of the drivers seat and headed to the front door. Before I could even knock the door swung open revealing a very excited Chris.

“Thank you! thank you! thank you!” He squealed like a girl before attempting to take the white box away.

“Hey! Calm down, you get fed every day I think you’ll be fine without COOKIES for a few seconds.”

5:48

“Can I eat them now?” Chris persistently asked repeatedly like a child. “Okay go ahead and eat some since you want them so badly.”

I grabbed one for myself since I was a bit hungry since I didn't eat lunch.

I took a small bite of the soft food, Chris just stared at my lips the whole time.

Noticing how plump my lips were, how smooth my brown skin was, but his thoughts shifted from something else.

And wasn't appropriate once so ever.

“Chris dude, are you even gonna eat the cookies? I’m only saving them because I want you to have some, secondly, I’m hungry too” My voice chose to get a slight attitude and sassiness added into it.

“Well first off lose the fucking attitude, secondly, M’not hungry. Not for food at least.” His accent started to slip out slowly the deeper his voice got.

“Okay, then what are you hungry for? Because you’re not the only one hungry. But I’m hungry for food so what do you wanna eat then?” I started to slowly get hangry and sassier by the second.

“I got something that’ll make you full.” Those were his last words before I somehow ended up on my knees in front of him.

6:09

"y-yeah—shiit, juuust like tha--mmpfh-ah," Chris’s head fell back against the white cabinet behind him.

His rough hands pulled my hair into a makeshift ponytail, guiding my movements as I continued sucking him off.

His eyes hooded, making it seem like they’ve rolled back completely. His hips started to buck into my mouth making the tip of his oversized cock nudging against the back of my throat making me continuously gag around him.

The noise of gargling filled the entire kitchen "fuuuck, I’m right there, just... just—shit," he groaned out loud.

Hot tears spilled down my face as he continued to face-fuck me. Until the tight coil in his lower stomach started getting tighter and tighter by the second.

and his climax hit him hard, his whole body shuddering, hips twitching into your mouth uncontrollably.

his hips twitching almost involuntarily as he spilled deep down your throat, he held your head down by the makeshift ponytail to make sure you swallowed all of his sticky release a quiet moan left his mouth “..Shittt…”.

6:40

I wiped the corners of my mouth getting rid of access cum and licking it off my thumb. “You should drink more water or something chris— your cum tastes like ass.” My tone playful but I wasn’t joking at all.

“Yeah I don’t think now’s the best time to mention that.” Chris spoke while catching his breath yet munching on one of the soft cookies.

“Yeah sure buddy” I paused before speaking again, “Also who knew Christopher Sturniolo whimpers, more blackmail for me”

“Oh fuck you Y/n.” He uttered with a mouthful of chewed-up cookies in his mouth.

“I mean you can if you want to, I’m not saying no.”

taglist: @tezzzzzzzz @chrepsi @angvl3tears @theylovedemi @sturnshood @sturnberries @sturniologirlzz @muwapsturniolo @dykes4chris @chrisisadilf @chrissturniolossidebitch @baileysturnz @slut4christopherr @slxt4chriss @slvtf0rchr1s @slxtarchive @raesturns @hjvi @starkeyszn @audreyscave @lailasnight @sturns-mermaid @ikyoudreamofme @sturnsmadl @ohmanareyoucereal9 @sossturn @blushsturns @rcklessheavn @55sturn @phone4pills @cupiidk1lls @bsturnzmtts @wh0remikasas @sfoiasturn @trevorsgodmother @bluestriips

MASTERLIST

[urge4divinty]

Your ex’s hidden feelings about you ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

pac tarot reading paired with intuition, take what resonates and remember energy can always change readings aren’t set in stone. + their signs or dominant placements

3 cards pulled for each pile ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ gender neutral

Pile 1

the first thing i feel before even pulling cards is warmth, a warm feeling? maybe they felt that with you and it was something they miss deeply they can’t find that in someone else so they might be completely tweaking out about the kind of warmth you brought them. song i’m also channeling is just dance by lady gaga? “wish i shut my playboy mouth—control your poison, babe, roses have thrones they say”

after pulling cards the exs hidden feelings give a very “i need to be soul searching after you”they are alone and possibly becoming independent in a introspective state. dealing with insecurity and trying to understand their inner feelings it confuses them how hurt they are and they never expected to be—they are trying to distract themselves so they might be in a hustling state where they obsess with work/or obsess over material possessions. i’m getting heavy insecurity they’re not able to express how they feel nor do they want to their usually assertiveness is muted, they feel imbalanced like maybe you weren’t giving a even amount? could be hesitant due to past hurts. they’d invest in the connection again if they felt it was safe to right now they struggle with vulnerability. guarded, uncertain, wanting clarity? signs: leo virgo taurus/libra

donut pile what’s teaaaa omg

Pile 2

the first thing i feel is slight annoyance? like very annoyed—it’s this energy of being slightly bothered. the song that came on while thinking of pile 2 was off to the races by lana del rey “god , i’m so crazy baby i’m sorry that misbehaving” oh?? “i need you i breathe you ill never leave you” “i love you forever? not maybe you are my one true love”

After pulling cards their hidden feelings is definitely defeat? like they lost something big? could’ve been married or just a really committed and serious relationship it gives a loving bond, or was loving such a “i wanted to propose to them i wanted marriage” oh they are in deeeeeep dude. but they are trying to seem stoic like they aren’t totally sick but they don’t seem like they’ll openly express any of this. they still think of you as their ideal partner!! but the ending was so painful for them they feel emotionally done and still hold on to the memories of you two. forcing themselves to accept that it’s actually over. signs: aries cancer/pisces gemini/scorpio

Pile 3

this piles energy is so different from the rest? its almost unexplainable it’s like they don’t know what they feel but they definitely know what they lost “i feel stupid” popped into my head.

after pulling cards i’m getting that they are having a lot of thoughts about you they have a strong urge to reach out to say something replaying conversations thinking of what they SHOULD of said or done to make a difference. they might’ve been emotionally detached while with you but after you left they got out of this state with a quickness they stopped ignoring their feelings and now they feel regret—they are becoming aware of what this relationship meant to them lots of self reflection going on for them and they are understanding their role of what happened, they feel pulled towards closure they want to try again tbh. their feelings are active and shifting going from indifference to “oh shit i lost them” they see the relationship in a way they didn’t see before this urge to reach out could be impulsive they are rushing into it to say their piece it’s chaotic and not at all well thought out so it could lead to aggressive communication.

signs: gemini/libra/aquarius cancer scorpio

[come-as-you-are-111]

My Flower

Warnings: squid game gore, fluff, cussing, no use of Y/N, literally nothing else.

Request: Yes!

You had just survived another gut-wrenching game in this hellhole called the Squid Game.

What sick bastard came up with this?

Your body ached, every muscle screaming from the relentless running, the sheer panic of finding a room in time. But it wasn’t just the physical exhaustion—it was the weight of it all. The stench of sweat and fear clung to the air, the distant sound of quiet sobbing from those who had lost people they cared about.

More bodies. More deaths. More proof that none of you were meant to survive this place.

You exhale sharply, pushing through the sea of bunk beds until you spot your own on the O side, just wanting to collapse. But before you can take another step, you feel the presence of the two doofuses you somehow ended up teaming with.

A loud, familiar voice cuts through the suffocating silence.

“My girl! Señorita!”

A pair of strong arms suddenly wrap around your waist from the side, halting your movement. Thanos.

The breath gets knocked out of you as the giant of a man pulls you into a tight hug, warmth radiating from his solid frame. He smells faintly of sweat and old cologne, but there’s something oddly comforting about it—like familiarity in a place where everything is foreign and cruel.

“I’m so happy to see you again, Flower!” His voice is rough with relief as he slightly pulls back, scanning your face like he needs to be sure you’re really here. “I was so worried about you, señorita.”

His hands find yours, gripping them tightly like you might slip away if he lets go.

“I thought I was running with you, but then I turned around and saw this asshole.” He tilts his head toward Nam-Gyu—Player 124—before focusing all his attention back on you, as if you’re the only thing that matters in this room.

Nam-Gyu lets out a low chuckle. “It’s like I told you, dude—she won’t go down easy.”

He smirks, nudging you lightly with his elbow. “You saw her, right? Se-Mi was like this—” He flattens one hand like a piece of paper. “And I thought she froze up. Then, out of nowhere, the scissors!” He snaps the fingers of his other hand in a quick, slicing motion. “That’s when I went, ‘whoa, this girl’s crazy!’”

Your stomach twists at the mention of Se-Mi.

You had been teammates. You should’ve looked out for her. But in that moment, survival had outweighed loyalty, and you made a choice.

A selfish one.

Still, you force a small smile, masking the guilt that lingers.

Thanos doesn’t seem to notice. He slings a heavy arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as he and Nam-Gyu guide you back toward your bunks.

“Let’s play one more game, okay?” His voice is softer now, a quiet reassurance that, despite everything, you’re not alone.

The massive room is filled with the rhythmic sound of breathing, shifting blankets, the occasional sniffle. But despite the exhaustion pulling at your limbs, sleep refuses to come.

You lie in your bunk, staring at the ceiling, your mind replaying the horrors of the past two days. The screaming. The gunshots. The lifeless bodies discarded like garbage. It was unbearable.

Su-Bong had insisted on sleeping in the same bunk to “keep you safe.” You still weren’t sure how cramming into this tiny-ass bed together accomplished that, but here you were—his arm wrapped securely around your waist, his face nuzzled into your neck.

His body heat seeped into yours, steady and grounding. The faint, rhythmic sound of his snoring tickled your ear, his breath warm against your skin. You could pretend that was what was keeping you awake.

But it wasn’t.

It was this place.

It was the knowledge that, at any moment, they could wake you up for another game. That more people would die. That you might be next.

“Su-Bong,” you whisper. “Are you awake?”

The snores falter, his hold tightening slightly before his voice—low, raspy with sleep—replies, “I am now. What’s wrong, Flower?”

You hesitate before finally turning to face him, your noses nearly brushing. His bleached-purple hair is a mess, strands falling over his tired but attentive eyes.

“I can’t sleep,” you admit, voice barely above a breath.

His brows furrow slightly. “It’s this place.”

You nod. “Everything is just so…” You struggle to find the right word.

“Controlled,” he mutters, his voice laced with quiet resentment.

Your throat tightens. “Yeah… really does.”

He exhales heavily, shifting closer, his face burying into the crook of your neck as if he could block out the world outside this bunk. You feel him inhale deeply, his breath fanning over your skin.

“Can you promise me something?” His voice is barely a murmur now.

You don’t hesitate. “Of course.”

He lifts his head slightly, looking at you through the dim lighting. His eyes, usually mischievous, are serious. “Promise me… that when we get out of here, we’ll find each other again. Get out of Seoul. Go somewhere far away. Start over.”

The thought is almost too good to be true—a life beyond this nightmare. But for the first time in days, you let yourself imagine it.

You smile, small but genuine. “Only if you promise me something too.”

Su-Bong huffs a small laugh, tilting his head. “Anything, Flower.”

The nickname makes warmth bloom in your chest.

“Once we get out… you’ll try to quit drugs.”

He stills. You watch his throat bob as he swallows, the hesitation lingering before he finally exhales.

“…I’ll try.”

His grip on you tightens.

“For you, Flower.”

You close your eyes, holding onto the warmth of his embrace, the quiet promise lingering between you.

You came into this game for money.

But hopefully, you leave with something more.

A/n: hi my lil monsters! How we likey? This request was honestly so adorable and I love the fact of like reader having min-su’s spot bc it’s just honestly something that could be really easy to write about.

Love ya, Twilight

Squid game taglist:

@amoristt @lousypotatoes @infinetlyforgotten @mirahyun @takuma-talkz @sxmmerchxld @multifandomgirllol @gizaspicebag @truefandemonium

[achromatophoric]

Yoko: I’m starting to get really worried about Wednesday and Enid…

Eugene: Huh? What do you mean?

Yoko: It’s just… I feel like they’re becoming seriously codependent, like unhealthily so. It’s really concerning.

Bianca: Yeah, I agree. I’m pretty sure that they’ve been holding hands 24/7 for the past two weeks and literally have not let go even once!

Kent: C’mon, it’s not that bad! So they’re a little bit attached, I don’t blame them! They’re been through a lot together.

Yoko: Trust me, dude… there’s something really wrong with them lately. I think we need to keep an eye on them-

-Wednesday and Enid enter the room-

… continue?

Yoko: *glances over* Speak of the devil— Yo, sup?

The others in the room join in greeting the pair with varying degrees of awkwardness.

Wednesday/Enid: 😑🤝🙂

Yoko: *peers between the two* So like—we have something we wanna talk to you both about. Right, guys?

Kent: *shrugs*

Bianca: *glares at Kent*

Kent: Er—I mean right. A talk. Yup.

Bianca: *crosses her arms and nods*

Eugene: Um—yeah.

Wednesday/Enid: 😑🤝🙂

Yoko: Okay, so like we’ve been thinking—

WednesdayEnid: 😑😌

Yoko: —that you two are starting to get um… get a little too—

WednesdaEynid: 🫠🫠

Yoko: —codependuhFUCK…?

WednesdEanyid: 🌗🌓

Everyone else in the room falls silent as they can only watch in horrified bewilderment, until…

WEdneisday: 😶‍🌫️

WEdneisday: 😐

Everyone else: 😨😨😑🤓

wEdneisday: Howdy—

Wedneisday: —idiots.

Everyone else: …

Yoko: Fuck—

Kent: —this—

Bianca: —shit.

With that, Yoko, Kent, and Bianca peace the fuck out.

WEdneisday: 🤨

Eugene: 🤓

Eugene: Holy crap. That was just like a fusion from Dragon Ball!

WEdneisday: 😏

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: Parent-Teacher Tension

Marshall was already in a mood when you both walked into the school. He didn’t love these things—sitting through a meeting with some overly enthusiastic teacher talking about your kid’s progress. But he’d promised to come, so here he was, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his hoodie, his jaw clenched as he followed you inside.

You, on the other hand, were all smiles, greeting the teacher warmly as you both sat down across from his desk.

“Mr. (Teacher’s Last Name), thanks for meeting with us,” you said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

The guy smiled—too much for Marshall’s liking. “Of course, Mrs. Mathers. Always a pleasure.” His eyes lingered a little too long on you before he cleared his throat and turned to Marshall. “And Mr. Mathers, it’s great to finally meet you.”

Marshall just nodded, his lips pressed in a thin line.

The meeting went on, the teacher going over test scores and participation, but Marshall wasn’t really listening. No, he was too busy watching the way this guy leaned in every time he spoke to you, the way his hand casually brushed the desk near yours, the way his eyes flickered to your lips when you laughed at something he said.

Was he serious? Right in front of him?

Marshall’s hand flexed on his thigh, his nails digging into the denim of his jeans.

You, completely oblivious, kept chatting, asking questions, smiling that damn sunshine smile of yours. Marshall loved that smile—but not when it was directed at some dude who clearly wanted more than just a parent-teacher conversation.

When the teacher lightly touched your forearm while emphasizing a point, Marshall was done. His hand shot out, wrapping possessively around your thigh. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t have to. His grip tightened slightly, his thumb stroking slow, deliberate circles against your jeans.

You glanced at him in confusion, but he just stared at the teacher, who had suddenly lost some of his confidence. Good.

The rest of the meeting was short, Marshall barely speaking, only nodding stiffly when necessary. When it was finally over, you stood to shake the teacher’s hand, still unaware of the silent tension buzzing in the air.

“Thanks again,” you said warmly.

Marshall didn’t bother with a handshake. Instead, he stood behind you, his hand sliding to the small of your back, fingers pressing just enough to make sure the teacher saw. “Yeah, thanks,” he said, voice low and flat.

The teacher swallowed. “Of course.”

Marshall didn’t say anything else as he led you out of the classroom, his hand never leaving your back.

The car ride home was quiet, but you could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, his jaw tight, his eyes locked on the road.

“What’s wrong with you?” you finally asked, brows furrowing as you turned to face him.

Marshall scoffed, shaking his head. “You serious?”

“Uh, yeah?”

His knuckles turned white against the wheel. “That teacher was all over you, and you just sat there gigglin’ like it was nothin’.”

Your eyes widened. “What? No, he wasn’t!”

Marshall shot you a look. “He touched you, babe.”

You frowned. “He touched my arm, like, once.”

He let out a humorless laugh. “And stared at you like he was tryna figure out what you taste like.”

Your jaw dropped. “Marshall!”

“What?” He pulled into the driveway, throwing the car into park before turning to you. “You really didn’t notice?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “No, because I wasn’t looking for it. And even if he was, so what? You know I’m yours.”

His blue eyes darkened, and in one swift motion, he reached across the console, gripping your chin between his fingers. “Damn right, you are,” he muttered before crashing his lips against yours.

The kiss was rough, possessive, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you closer. When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged, his eyes still locked onto yours.

“Inside. Now.”

Your stomach flipped at the command in his voice.

You smirked. “Jealous much?”

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You have no idea.”

And with that, he was out of the car, heading inside without another word.

You bit your lip, heat pooling in your stomach as you followed after him.

Yeah, this was gonna be a long night.

[zuzu-tries-to-write]

Falling for the Act (Part 4)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki X reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Fake Dating, Slow Burn, Romance

————————————————————————

Part 4: The Jealousy Hits

Bakugo didn’t get jealous.

Jealousy was for weak, insecure idiots who doubted themselves. And he sure as hell wasn’t one of those.

So why the fuck was he about to explode just because you were laughing at something Todoroki said?

It wasn’t even a normal laugh—it was that soft, genuine kind that made your eyes crinkle, the kind that made your whole face light up. And for some reason, that pissed him off.

Because it wasn’t directed at him.

He wasn’t even sure what Todoroki had said, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that you were sitting way too close to him, nudging his arm like you were comfortable with him, and Bakugo hated it.

His fingers twitched against the cafeteria tray, itching to set something on fire.

“The hell are you looking so pissed about?” Kirishima’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

Bakugo barely spared him a glance. “I’m not pissed.”

Kirishima followed his gaze, immediately spotting the way you were leaning just a little too close to Todoroki. His eyebrows shot up. “Ohhh. I see what’s going on here.”

Bakugo scowled. “Shut up.”

Kirishima grinned. “Dude, are you jealous?”

“I said shut up,” Bakugo growled, but Kirishima only laughed harder.

He forced himself to look away, clenching his jaw. This is fake. This is fake. This is fake.

But no matter how many times he repeated it, it didn’t stop the way his blood boiled when Todoroki placed a hand on your shoulder.

That was it.

Bakugo shot up from his seat, storming across the cafeteria before he could talk himself out of it.

You barely had time to react before a firm hand grabbed your wrist, yanking you up from your chair. You let out a startled yelp as Bakugo pulled you against his chest, his grip possessive.

“The hell are you doing?” he snapped, glaring at Todoroki like he was ready to murder him.

Todoroki blinked, completely unfazed. “We were just talking.”

“Yeah? Well, she ain’t interested.”

You gaped at him. “Bakugo, what—”

Before you could finish, Bakugo’s hand slid to your chin, tilting your face up toward him. Then, in front of everyone, he crashed his lips onto yours.

The cafeteria went silent.

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes wide as his lips moved against yours—hot, demanding, and completely unplanned. This wasn’t part of the act. This wasn’t to prove a point.

This was something else.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes were darker than usual, burning with something dangerous. Something real.

“Stay the fuck away from her,” he muttered, his voice rough.

Todoroki blinked again, unimpressed. “Okay.” Then, he went right back to eating like nothing had happened.

Bakugo clicked his tongue in annoyance before turning back to you. His grip on you softened slightly, his thumb brushing against your wrist absentmindedly.

You were still staring at him, your lips slightly parted.

“…What the hell was that?” you whispered.

Bakugo hesitated.

For the first time since this whole thing started, he had no fucking idea.

All he knew was that the thought of you smiling at someone else, laughing with someone else, kissing someone else—

It made him want to burn the whole world down.

And that scared the shit out of him.

Because this was never supposed to be real.

So why did it feel like it was?

To be continued…

[turnfires-secret]

Hiya!! So, I’m not sure if you only do genshin fics, so if you do, there’s no need to respond to this!! But if you don’t 😈… Could you write some sub!obanai headcanons.. (yes, the guy from demon slayer)

OH ANON.... OH ANON I LOVE YOU SO MUCH HOW DID YOU KNOW I LOVE OBANAI???? ofc I'll write this for you dude! :3

I actually plan on writing for BSD, JJK (certain characters) and HSR :)

SUB! OBANAI IGURO HCS

- Obanai who groans and whimpers

- Obanai who tries so unbelievably hard to say quiet 

- Obanai who usually leads him to bite his lips or onto pillows to do so

- The quickest way to get him to cum is surprisingly to the really gentle with him. Obanai values the emotions and care behind actions like sex and intimacy when it’s someone he cares about.

- Obanai who enjoys having your hands on him because his whole body is sensitive and feels good.  

- Obanai who often mentions how he loves you during sex

- Prefers positions where you can’t see his face. He thinks it’s embarrassing for him to be enjoying something like sex so much, as well as the fact he’s ashamed of his face and incredibly insecure

- Obanai whose stamina is honestly pathetic for a Hashira

- Obanai who gets very easily overstimulated and turns into a mess when he is, tears, moans and all.

- Obanai who still tries to act tough when he’s an overstimulated mess however, That’s when you can really rough him up and abandon the slow, loving pace.

 It’s cute how Obanai is shaking underneath you. Imagine, a Hashira, the highest rank in the demon slayer corps. a mess shaking and crying underneath you. Well, you didn’t have to, since that’s your situation. A trail of hickey-type bruises going from his neck vaguely down his spine. The pillow under his head was ruined from tears and drool. The sheets underneath him were clutched very tightly in the callused, worn-down hands of a warrior.  

“Are you alright?”

“M-Mhm, of course…”

 It was clear he didn’t trust his voice to say anything more than that. It was cute. Cute, but you wanted to see more, hear more. 

“If you say so…”

Your tone was mocking at best. Though his muddled brain didn’t notice that fact, he didn’t notice much other than the burning hot sensation of your hands on his body. The one on his waist to stabilise him and the other somewhere teasing down the curve of his spine. If he were in his right mind he probably would have called you an asshole or tried to shoot a glare at you. Thus began another round of a pace that was practically abuse for the poor serpent Harshira. 

“N-nghh-!! Ah…! Haa… I love you! I love you so much Y/N please mmhff~!”

For someone with such an attitude, you wondered if anyone else would ever even suspect that Obanai could get like this. 

[northforwinter]

Sometimes I remember the scene/quote

"Pain doesn't make people, it's love that makes people. The pain is inconsequential. It's love that saves them. And you would know that but you have none around you. You said so yourself, you surround yourself with lies and deceptions. And I wish for you, in the future, to find someone to mourn you when you are gone."

And I wonder how I'm supposed to go on with my life

[just-null]

Do you ever do requests? If so, do you ever plan on drawing some Yandere with the Hantengu clones? :D hope you have a good day/night!!!

Mentioning an unfamiliar name

yes!! I love yanderes.. and these guys.. these guys are such good material...... nods nods..

I'm not sure about requests..I assume you mean drawing requests? I suppose if it REALLY catches my interest enough, I'd do it, but it'd probably just be line art/sketches.

[cto10121]

Book Fiyero: *immediately recognizes Elphaba and stations himself at the backdoor to prevent her from evading him, stalks her halfway across town to her aerie (even though at that point in time she was only a college friend he hadn’t seen in five years), insists on seeing her again, instinctively goes to comfort her when she first cries, gets sucked into increasingly deep and fraught conversations with her about collateral damage and freedom fighter terrorism, calls her the “most individual, the most separate, the most real” DURING AN ARGUMENT, says he adores Elphaba’s looks IN THAT SAME ARGUMENT, doesn’t understand Elphaba’s “being born with a talent or an inclination for goodness is the aberration” comment because (implied) he sincerely believes Elphaba isn’t evil, changes his mind about the plight of the Animals all by himself but doesn’t mention it to Elphaba because he is afraid she would distance himself from him, buys scarves for both his wife and Elphaba even though only Elphaba likes scarves, is so concerned for Elphaba and her dangerous Lurlinemas Eve mission that he stalks her instead of staying at his club or just leaving town altogether, and is so worried about her that he returns to the aerie just to see her*

Also Book Fiyero: Am I in love with Elphaba?

[sallymew4]

EVERYONE STOP WHAT YOURE DOING RIGHT FUCKING NOW

EVERYBODY SHUT UP IMMEDIATELY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[tariah23]

This is such a harmful sentiment to push considering that you don’t necessarily have to be “attractive,” (beauty is subjective, yada yada) in order for men to want to harm you in the slightest… like man, what…

[keeps-ache]

awkward way to have a convo but okay

[plain inks below cut]