#and the guys are just like uh is he okay?

[nanamisgirly]

˖ 𑣲 comments and reblogs are always appreciated ma girliees <333 part.1 part.2 part.3

you stepped inside your boyfriend's apartment, gym bag slung over your shoulder, fresh from practice—skin still warm, sports bra sticking a little too much to your back and breasts, hair up in a high bun, face flushed.

virgin!nerdjo was on his bed, jerking upright as he heard you calling after him. wide blue eyes met yours as you appeared on the doorway, his glasses slipping down his nose, shirt slightly rumpled, hugging his phone to his chest tighter. “h-hi, babe!” 

virgin!nerdjo pushed up his glasses with one shaking finger, ears bright, glowing pink. “…you're okay?” you ask a bit concerned by his disheveled demeanor.

“y-yeah! i was—i was reading! science stuff…you know. .the usual.”

you dropped your bag by the door, raising a brow. “gojo.”

virgin!nerdjo squeaked as you stepped forward, your eyes narrowing slightly “did you see something weird on the internet again?”

“what do you mean…weird? y-you know—uh—weird can be interpreted differently depending on the person and—”

“satoru,” you said, tone dipping playfully as you sat beside him. " why's your face red? why can i feel the body heat from here?" 

his mouth opened, closed. his glasses fogged a little. then softly, virgin!nerdjo, in that high-pitched panic laced voice asked, “…does—does it really taste better after p-practice?”

you blinked. “what?”

“I DIDNT SAY ANYTHING!!!!!” virgin!nerdjo immediately launched into a flailing mess, grabbing the nearest pillow and smashing his face into it. “FORGET I SAID THAT” his words muffled into the cotton. “i—it was a stupid reel. some guy said that!! i didn't—i didn't know what it meant at first and then—and then i understood and now i—oh god—you're back from practice—”

you burst out laughing, tugging his pillow down just enough to reveal his face—red as a cherry tomato, hair sticking up in all directions, lips parted in pure shame. you kissed his hot cheek—melting from how adorable he was.

“you little freak.”

and that's how virgin!nerdjo found himself scrambling down to the edge of the bed, kneeling on the floor in front of you like the clumsy worshipper he is. “i—i read about this,” he muttered, more to himself. “like. . .techniques. angles, pressure, even points. there was a diagram—um—never mind.” he cleared his throat. “okay, okay…i got this. i can do this.”

you bit back a grin. “satoru, baby. stay focused genius.”

and virgin!nerdjo did. sloppily, enthusiastically and completely lacking finesse but god was he totally eager. he licked into you with zero rhythm and zero patience, tongue everywhere at once, trying to map out like you were an equation he couldn't quite solve. he licked broad and flat, then sucked sharply, then messily dragged his mouth all over your folds with no direction, moaning loud and wet against you.

virgin!nerdjo gasped, nuzzling his face in deeper. "mmfff—shiit—it's…" slurp "so wet a-already—why're you—mnghh—how're you so- so wet? did i make you like this??" you barely caught half of it. his voice was muffled against your cunt, slick dripping down his chin, tongue flicking wildly and slapping against your clit in quick, frantic bursts.

“fuuuuck,” he groaned, slathering his tongue through yoru folds. “it's better, it's actually fucking better—why's it better??? why—fuck why, do you taste like this—” he was whining, his voice shaking as he smeared spit and slick across your puffy lips, blue eyes fluttering shut.

virgin!nerdjo kissed your clit with open lips like it was your mouth, then did it again, tongue swirling, lips sucking greedily, as if trying to swallow you whole. his hands clutched your thighs, trembling. he licked up the mess he made and kept going, drooling into your intoxicating scent. “'s sooo warm, s-so creamy—mmfghhh—y'shmell s'fuggin good, i c-chan't think…chink sthtraight, babe, i c-can't—fuck i cahn't, i can't, i—”

you grabbed his hair and shoved his head deeper. “shut up and eat, 'toru.”

virgin!nerdjo moaned like you'd praised him, nose buried against your clit now, tongue flicking rapidly over it in frantic, inconsistent strokes. it wasn't skillful—it was chaotic, needy, but fuck was it good. really good.

“mmhmghfmff, y're t-titchin'—sfqueezin' on m'ongue—fuhhg, i'szit thafgood? g-gonna c-cfmum? oh, plchese—fugg, plshesaes—cum on m'mouff, i-i b-behmen thinking ‘bout it since th’reel—couldn't shthop—kept i-imagining—”

you couldn't even hear the rest— your breath was ragged, ears ringing, body too busy unraveling. your thighs trembled as he slobbered on your pussy, drool and slick coating his chin and mouth, your taste smeared over his flushed face.

your climax hit fast and deep, hips stuttering as he sucked on your clit with desperate little slurping noises alterning with tongue fucking your cunt until you cried out. 

“thas' it—yeahhh like haaa. gfme—gimme more, p-please,mfm're—love y'pussy, 's swo ssweft 'n swaltyy” your hand tightened in his hair and yanked his face back.

virgin!nerdjo's face was delectable—eyes glassy, Adam's apple bobbing hard, chest heaving. his white fluffy hair a total mess in yoru drip, lips slick and shining with spit and arousal. and the wet patch blooming shamelessly on his pant. “this is insane,” he panted, voice cracking. “i'm gonna fail my finals ‘cause i’m addicted to your delicious pussy. this is way too insane.”

(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)♥︎︎ᯐ   

[wvyik]

stoner bf! dean headcanons ⋆˚

dean winchester x gn! reader

ꕤ summary: stoner! dean is all sleepy kisses, vinyl records, and joints rolled just for you. he’s soft when he’s high, clingy in the best way, and swears you’re his soulmate every time the stars come out.

♯ warnings: mdni!! explicit content, 420 we ball, kissing, cuddling, weed naps, clingy stoner bf, movie nights & vibes, lap sitting, food cravings, soft!dean, praise, sleepy makeouts, forehead kisses, domestic fluff, himbo behavior, space talk & soulmate shit, high and in love.

♯ notes: this has been living in my head rent free for weeks. also if he ever passed me a blunt i’d simply fall in love on sight. anyway enjoy my delulu. reblogs = forehead kiss from him <3

HE LOVES GETTING YOU HIGH.. Like he lives for it. He rolls for you, lights it, puts it to your lips, and watches you with those hazy green eyes like you’re his favorite movie.

HIS MUNCHIES ARE CHAOTIC.. This man will eat a grilled cheese with pie inside it and call it “gourmet.” He also thinks Cool Ranch Doritos and peanut butter are “a bomb combo.” You’re stuck enabling him.

HE GETS REAL CUDDLY.. Dean + weed = clingy lil baby. He’s got his arms wrapped around you, face buried in your neck, mumbling stuff like “You smell like heaven, y’know that?” in a deep, raspy voice that’s half-asleep.

HAS A RANDOM URGE TO TEACH YOU POOL.. Halfway through he’s not even holding the cue stick right anymore. “Okay, okay, now bend over. No not like that— wait, yes, exactly like that.” Then he forgets what the lesson was.

STONER MOVIE NIGHTS ARE SACRED.. You two binge Pineapple Express, Half Baked, and Dazed and Confused on rotation. He always quotes Matthew McConaughey’s “alright, alright, alright” and then says you make him feel that way. Ugh.

HE MAKES HIS OWN EDIBLES AND THEY’RE.. WEIRDY GOOD?.. Dean will make weed brownies but then he’s like “what if we did a THC bacon mac n cheese?” and you’re like “pls no” and next thing you know you’re drooling on his chest 20 minutes later after one bite.

DEAN GETS THE GIGGLES SO BAD.. Like, full-on belly laughing over nothing. You’ll say “pass the lighter” and he’s crying like “yo you sounded British for a sec.” He thinks you are the funniest person alive when he’s high.

NOT THAT MUCH FOR BIG TALK WHEN HE’S HIGH, BUT HE’LL ALWAYS FIND WAYS TO SHOW LOVE.. Like making you your favorite drink, lighting candles, or just sitting beside you in silence, holding your hand.

SURPRISINGLY GOOD AT READING YOUR MOODS WHILE HE’S HIGH.. If you’re quiet and anxious, he’s your silent rock, just holding you close. If you’re a little overwhelmed, he’ll softly remind you to breathe and maybe put on some chill tunes.

„WEED NAPS” TOGETHER ARE A FULL ON RITUAL.. He’ll get you both stupid high, pull you into his chest, kiss your forehead, and knock out mid-sentence. You wake up and he’s snoring softly with a dumb lil smile and his hand still on your thigh.

TRIES TO TEACH YOU HOW TO ROLL A JOINT, BUT ENDS UP GIGGLING LIKE A CHILD.. He’s all, “Okay, babe, lemme show you—this is high-level skill,” and then drops the weed all over the table and starts giggling like “shit… ignore that, I got it.”

TALKS TO HIS JOINTS LIKE THEY’RE FRIENDS.. “Alright little guy, let’s do this.” lights up “You’re burnin’ nice, buddy. Real proud of you.” You’re just staring like ??? and he’s chillin’ like it’s normal.

SMOKES OUT OF STUPID STUFF.. “You think I can turn this apple into a bowl?” He does it. Successfully. And grins like he just won the Super Bowl. “MacGyver ain’t got SHIT on me, baby.”

GETS EMOTIONAL OVER LITTLE THINGS.. Like seeing you laugh or watching you tuck your hair behind your ear, he’s totally smitten and might get a little teary-eyed, whispering “I’m the luckiest man alive.”

HIS STONED KISSES? SLOW. METLY. OBSESSIVE.. He leans in real lazy, eyes half-lidded, pupils blown, and just melts into your mouth like he’s never been fed before. You pull back for air and he chases your lips like, “Nuh-uh. More.”

GETS HIGH BEFORE DOING CHORES AND TURNS IT INTO A CONCERT.. Vacuuming in just a flannel (unbuttoned), doing the dishes while singing into a spatula, shaking his hips with a joint hangin’ from his lips. You’re just sitting there, blushing and dying.

GETS WAY INTO ASMR WHEN STONED.. Whispers into your ear like a pro, “Babe, you hear that? That’s the sound of love.” Then he makes weird mouth noises and you’re dying.

SAID „I COULD TOTALLY BE A STRIPPER” ONCE.. Put on ’Pony’ by Ginuwine, tried to do a sexy dance, tripped over a sock, and fell into the laundry basket. You almost passed out laughing. He’s still proud of himself. “Tell me I wasn’t kinda hot tho.”

STILL MANAGES TO BE THE MOST ATTRACTIVE HUMAN ALIVE.. Even with red eyes, messy hair, and a Dorito stuck to his hoodie, he’s somehow radiating sex appeal. Like he winks at you and you’re just like— ugh, fine, let’s make out.

TRIES TO INITIATE SOFT MAKEOUTS AND ENDS UP MAULING YOU.. Started with a forehead kiss. Then a peck. Then a soft little “Hey pretty…” and BOOM now you’re straddling him, shirtless, and he’s breathless whispering “God, I’m so high and you’re so hot.”

“CAN WE HAVE SEX IN THE BUNKER LIBRARY?”.. Deadass high and suddenly asking the most degenerate stuff. “I just think it’d be hot, like, you bent over the table, surrounded by old books. Kinda academic. Kinda slutty.”

LOVES PULLING YOUR UNDERWEAR TO THE SIDE, NOT OFF.. Something about the laziness of it drives him wild. He’s like, “I ain’t wasting time, sweetheart. I want it now.”

LIKES TO MAKE YOU RIDE HIM WHILE HIGH.. Sprawled out on the couch, joint still smoldering in the ashtray, hands on your hips like he’s watching a movie. “Mmm, just like that, baby. Show me how pretty you are.”

LAZY, SENSUAL STROKES.. He’s not pounding you into oblivion; he’s rolling his hips, slow and deep, mumbling “you feel too good… can’t stop…” It’s sloppy. Sweaty. Sooo vocal. Just full-blown “fuuuuck, baby—uhhh—yeah…”

GOES DOWN ON YOU LIKE IT’S A RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE.. High Dean is locked in. Hair pushed back, gripping your thighs like you’ll float away. Will not stop until you’re shaking. And when you’re done? “You taste like heaven. I need another hit.”

PUTS HIS FINGERS IN YOUR MOUTH WHILE HE’S FUCKING YOU.. He’s like, “Suck, baby. Just like that. God, I love those lips.” And then keeps thrusting harder every time your tongue swirls around.

HIGH DEAN GETS DISTRACTED BY HIS OWN DIRTY TALK.. Mid-sentence, he pauses, laughs, and goes, “Wait… did I just say that out loud? Fuck, I’m high as hell.”

LOVES IT WHEN YOU TAKE CONTROL, BUT ONLY A LIL BIT.. High Dean loves it when you tug his hair or bite his lip, he gets that glint in his eye like “Yeah, show me what you got, baby.” But then he always wins with a growl and a kiss that steals your breath.

AFTERWARDS, YOU CUDDLE AND HE’S STILL KINDA HORNY.. Hands back on your ass, mumbling half-asleep, “Round three in like… fifteen minutes. Just lemme nap inside you.”

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⤿ wanna be tagged in my fics?.. don't be shy! @ taglist.

tysm for reading! more works incoming @ library.

[wqlfstqr]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ my current boyfriend trend with percy jackson.

You smile at the phone once it starts recording, barely able to hold your laugh while Percy, sitting beside you, has no clue where this is going— he think this is just one of those videos you like to make just for fun.

"Hi guys, today I'll show you the things I got last time I went to the beach with my current boyfriend." you start, pretending you're reaching for the bag of things you bought.

But Percy's reaction is almost immediate. His head whips towards you, his mouth hangs open, and he even sits up a little straighter. "Your what now?"

"Yes, Perce, I told you we would show the things we got on our trip." you reply, smiling with fake innocence.

Percy shakes his head, his sea-green eyes comically wide. "No, that's not what i'm talking about."

You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing, ignoring him as you hold up the necklace he got you. "Okay guys, so first, my current boyfriend got me this cute shell necklace."

"Current?" He cuts in, scandalized. "I'm sorry, current? are you getting another boyfriend soon or what?"

You shrug. "I mean, you are my current boyfriend."

"What? No, I'm not." His voice jumps an octave higher. "I mean, yes I'm currently your boyfriend. But I'll always be. I'm the forever love of your life."

You snort, but he's on a roll.

"Current boyfriend? hell no." He looks genuinely offended. "You're not getting rid of me, love. Only way I'll become your ex-boyfriend is when I become your husband."

You're fully laughing now, but he still looks offended. "Perce–"

"Nope. No. Nuh-uh." He shakes his head again. "You're not allowed to call me current boyfriend. No, love. It's future husband for you."

"I don't see what's wrong with current boyfriend." You shrug again, the amusement clear in your eyes.

His eyebrows raise, his hands coming to gently cup your face. "No, baby. I'm your future husband. Say it."

"Okay okay. My future husband." You finally give in, still giggling.

He lets out a relieved sigh, as if he can finally be at peace. "Thank you. And hell yes, that's me."

mari talks! i've NEVER written a blurb so i'm sorry if this is messy but Percy was the first thing I thought of when I saw this trend. Also I linked the trend in the title just in case someone didn't see it lol.

[yvesssssssss]

HAIII I love ur writing sm it tickles my brain heh...could i rq blue lock (anyone it's ok!! but heh..kaiser kunigami, sae and bayou are my favs) x manager reader that's usually blunt forward n quiet but she actually got the warmest smile ever when she smiles??? idk if u have seen when life gives you tangerines but oh my gosh park bogums smile on the series Geniunely had me having a heart attack everytime he was on scene

Blue lock x manager! Reader

—Michael kaiser, sae itoshi, barou shouei, kunigami rensuke

Thank you so much! The way I wrote this is honestly so cringey, but I tried. T_T Still, I hope you like it💞

Michael Kaiser

Kaiser wasn’t used to being ignored.

Not when he walked into rooms like a spotlight followed him. Not when his smirk had fans screaming and cameras snapping. And especially not by someone who worked with him every day.

You were quiet. Not shy—just efficient. Calm. Blunt.

“Why do you always look at me like that?” Kaiser asked one day during training, jogging up to you with that usual glint in his eyes.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re picturing how fast you could bury a body.”

You blinked. “Depends on the soil. You done flexing?”

His teammates wheezed behind him. He was left blinking for once.

You were the team’s manager—always showing up before the players, organizing their chaos into something functional. You gave out water bottles and brutally honest feedback like it was part of your salary package.

Kaiser thought you were amusing. And annoying. And kind of hot in a terrifying way.

⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖

What got to him the most, though, was that he’d never seen you smile. Not really.

A twitch at the lips when Isagi tripped over a cone. A raised brow when Barou called himself royalty again. But never a full-on, warm, heart-hitting smile.

Until one afternoon.

The team was clearing out after a grueling match, Kaiser sprawled on the bench, shirt off, absolutely done—but watching you. As always.

You were checking gear, murmuring thanks to a junior staff member, and then—you turned slightly, eyes crinkling, lips curling—

And smiled.

Kaiser actually dropped the energy drink he was holding.

It was blinding. Soft and rare, like a dawn over war-torn fields. Your entire face lit up—calm, warm, kind. Not sarcastic. Not forced. Real.

It wasn’t even aimed at him, which made it worse.

“Who the hell was that for?” he demanded, walking up to you like a man betrayed.

“Huh?”

“That smile. The one that looked like it could end wars.”

You blinked at him, back to your usual deadpan expression. “You want one?”

He opened his mouth.

Paused.

“…Yes.”

You tilted your head. And slowly, like the sun peeking from behind storm clouds, you smiled again—just a little. At him.

Kaiser’s ears went red.

“I—uh. Okay. That’s illegal,” he muttered, pointing at you like you were a loaded weapon. “I’m gonna sue. Emotional damage.”

You were already walking away.

“Then stop acting like a victim.”

His heart actually did a backflip.

“…I’m gonna marry you,” he whispered under his breath.

Kunigami rensuke

Kunigami never minded blunt people. In fact, he appreciated them. It was better than the fake smiles and flattery he sometimes got from media staff or fans. But you? You took blunt to a new level.

“You look tired,” he said one morning, wiping sweat from his forehead, trying to make small talk during drills.

“I am tired. You guys don’t clean up your trash and I’m not your mother.”

“…Right.”

Still, he liked talking to you. He liked how steady you were, how nothing ruffled you—not the pressure, not the chaos, not even Kaiser being a diva. And when you did speak, it was short, snappy, and always honest. Refreshing.

But no one had ever seen you smile.

Not once.

Until that late night at the training camp, when everyone else had cleared out. Kunigami had stayed behind, double-checking his gear. You were near the bench, organizing towels and muttering about how someone left their socks inside-out.

He looked up from lacing his shoes—and there it was.

Your laugh. Soft. Sudden.

Someone had texted you, maybe. Or maybe something genuinely made you happy for once. Either way, your lips curled up and your eyes lit from within. It was quiet, gentle, and lasted all of three seconds.

But it knocked the breath out of him.

“…You smiled,” he said, almost in awe.

You turned, expression returning to normal. “Yeah. I do that sometimes. I’m not a robot.”

“I thought you were. Or like—part ghost.”

You gave him a long stare, and he realized too late how stupid that sounded. But then—

You smiled again. Just a little. Just at him.

Warm, unguarded.

“You’re not as dumb as you look, Kunigami.”

He coughed into his fist, ears going hot. “Y-Yeah? Well—cool. Thanks. I think.”

You chuckled—low and genuine—and went back to folding towels.

He stood there a moment longer, staring like a man hit by divine revelation.

God help him, he wanted to see that smile again. Every day. Forever.

Tomorrow, he decided, he was getting up early. Earlier than usual. Maybe you’d smile at him again.

Maybe, if he was lucky, you already liked him a little.

Even if you’d never say it out loud.

Sae itoshi

Sae didn’t pay attention to most people. He had no reason to. Most were too loud, too fake, too eager to get in his space for the wrong reasons.

But you were different.

You were quiet. Not shy—just observant. Efficient. When someone forgot a jersey, you had a spare ready before they noticed. When the coaching staff missed a scheduling error, you were already fixing it. You rarely spoke unless necessary, but when you did, your voice was calm. Unshaken.

And your blunt honesty?

He respected it.

“You looked bored out there,” you told him one day after practice.

“I was.”

“I could tell. But if you're going to half-ass it, at least make it look convincing.”

He’d blinked. Once. Then laughed under his breath.

After that, he paid more attention to you.

You never hovered. Never smiled for no reason. You just worked—always a step ahead of the team, always unbothered by chaos. But you had this quiet way of looking out for people. You noticed when someone was limping and handed them an ice pack without a word. You stood in front of rookies when reporters got too pushy.

It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t loud.

But it was kind.

One day, he stayed behind after drills. Not for any real reason—just sat on the bench, watching the sky go soft with sunset. You were nearby, cleaning up the med kit, checking supplies.

“You always work this late?”

You didn’t look up. “Someone has to.”

“…You like this job?”

You paused, then glanced at him.

“I like helping people who don’t expect to be helped.”

He looked at you properly then. Not just the usual glance—really looked. You weren’t just efficient. You cared. In that quiet, unnoticed kind of way most people overlooked.

Then, for the first time, he saw it.

You smiled.

It was small. Barely there. But warm. Real. The kind of smile that slipped out when you weren’t thinking too hard. The kind that made your eyes soften, just a bit.

Sae didn’t react outwardly, but something in him stilled.

“That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile,” he said.

You blinked. “…Probably.”

“You should do it more.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched again, like you were holding back another one.

“Then try being less boring.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

“Fine. I’ll work on it.”

And he did.

Not for the cameras. Not for his reputation.

Just maybe—for you.

Barou

Barou didn’t like being managed. Or ordered. Or reminded to hydrate like he was a child.

But you didn’t treat him like that.

You were quiet, direct, and didn’t waste time. If he forgot to stretch, you’d just say, “Your hamstring’s gonna snap,” and toss him a band. If he got too heated during practice, you handed him a towel and said, “Chill. You’re scaring the interns.”

You didn’t hover or nag. You weren’t afraid of his temper, either. You were… calm. Unfazed. Like you’d seen worse than a guy yelling about meat buns and “kingly” training schedules.

He respected that.

One day, after a particularly frustrating scrimmage, he kicked a cone halfway across the field and stormed off. The team gave him space. So did the coaches.

But not you.

You followed him to the locker room, carrying a wrapped rice ball.

“You didn’t eat,” you said, holding it out like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“I’m not hungry,” he growled.

“Then be angry with a full stomach.”

He looked at you like you’d grown a second head. You weren’t sarcastic. You weren’t mocking him. Just… offering him food, like it was obvious. Like of course you cared, even if you barely spoke half the day.

He snatched it from your hand, grumbling under his breath, but didn’t look away.

And then—he saw it.

You smiled.

Soft. Barely there. But it hit like a punch to the chest.

Not because it was perfect or dazzling. But because it wasn’t. It was quiet. Warm. Like it wasn’t meant to be seen. Like it slipped out because, maybe, you cared more than you let on.

“You’re not as scary when you smile,” you said, tone casual.

Barou blinked. Scowled. Looked away too fast.

“Tch. Don’t say weird stuff.”

You turned to leave.

He glanced back at the rice ball in his hand. Then at your back.

“…Thanks,” he muttered.

You didn’t stop walking, but your voice carried:

“You’re welcome, Your Majesty.”

[onlyquinns]

https://www.tumblr.com/onlyquinns/783571336627961856/oh-my-days-i-actually-love-you-jack-hughes-ideas?source=share

This is the first time I've really seen my self in a fic! That's the kind of shy awkward I am and I've never seen it reflected back. May I please make a request of Jack trying to woo the same kind of shy, awkward girl who's brushing it off and avoiding his attention because to her Jack either isn't flirting at all and she's making things up, doesn't mean it and just wants her for fun, or will eventually get tired of how she is and leave?

you stand still as some guy talks to you at the bar. your hands are laced together around a whiskey glass, and your lips are pursed in a straight line. the dude reeks of cheap beer and bad news as he talks to you, something about how the hockey boys in the corner of the room are awful people. which you know isn’t the case.

jack watches you from the corner, lips pulled into a scowl as the dude in front of you blocks your body from his view. he pushes himself off the booth he’s at with some of the guys and makes his way to you, throwing casual elbows at people who dance in his way.

“hey, pretty,” jack says as he circles you, wrapping an easy arm around you. he shoots a quick glare at the guy who’s forced you into a conversation. “how’s my favorite girl doing?”

your eyes flick to jack, filled with uncertainty at what he’s plotting, but a slight glimmer of urgency catches his attention and jack moves to remove you from the conversation.

he pretends to whisper in your ear, leaning in and saying, “just go along with my plan,” and then turning to the drunk. “thanks for keeping my girl company, man—she’s gorgeous, huh?” jack gives the guy a friendly smile, a flash of teeth catching in the dim bar light, and an unmistakeable look in his eye that challenges the dude. the drunk guy backs away, leaving with hands up.

your body relaxes as the guy vanishes from sight, a relieved sigh leaving your lips. your fingertips ache from how tightly you were pressing into the whiskey glass, knuckles turning back to their normal color rather than the unusual white.

“you okay?” jack asks, and you body stiffens once more.

you give a curt nod. “uh huh… thanks… for that.” you clamp your mouth shut again, rocking back and forth on your heels. “i’m gonna… go.” as you move to walk away, jack grabs your elbow and redirects you to his table.

“c’mon,” he says softly, tone more than what you’re used to for a platonic or professional relationship. “sit with me; let me buy you a drink.” he smiles at you, far too soft, and your cheeks feel hotter at the implication.

but you shake it away. no way in hell is jack hughes flirting with you.

as you sit down next to luke, you awkwardly scoot away so that his leg doesn’t brush yours. he gives you a funny look but doesn’t push, letting you position yourself at the edge of the booth, half of your body hanging off the seat as if you’re about to flee. jack excuses himself quickly and goes to get you a drink, something he promised you’d like.

“so, you’re the media girl, right?” someone asks, arms lazily draped on the back of his seat. “we rarely see you at the arena, so i figured i’d ask.”

you shake your head and glance at jack as he makes his way back. his steps are slow and thoughtful as he carries back two mystery drinks, one for him and the other for you.

“no… i…” you gesture vaguely in front of you, unsure of what to say. “i’m just normal staff. i only work when there’s a game or other event going on at prudential.” you place your hands in your lap, curling your fingers tightly. you give a nod as if approving of what you said.

jack laughs a little and pulls a chair up beside you, sitting with it placed backward so his arms can rest on the back. “makes killer nachos when she does concessions,” he says, looking at you fondly.

the guys laugh, and you figure you don’t have to tell them that the nachos are just normal corn chips with over-processed cheese on top.

after the laughter lulls, you fidget in your seat uncomfortably. you’re not sure what to say—if you even have to say anything.

“uh…” you start, glancing at people around the table as they sip beers. “i’m gonna leave.”

you stand from the table and raise your hand in a quiet wave. jack jumps up beside you.

“i’ll take you home,” he says, grabbing his jacket and throwing it over his shoulder. before you can say no, jack ushers you through the bar and toward the front door, a gentle hand ghosting over your lower back.

“you don’t have to do this,” you say as he holds the door open. you step out onto the sidewalk, hands behind your back as you rock back and forth a little. “i’m capable of getting home myself.”

jack shrugs and starts walking to a car parked on the side of the road, its headlights flashing twice as he unlocks the car. he holds the passenger door open for you, nodding his head toward the leather seat. you shuffle forward, rubbing at your arms in an attempt to comfort yourself.

“thanks,” you mumble, hauling your body into the seat and buckling yourself in. jack watches you diligently, waiting to hear the telltale click of the belt buckle before shutting your door and rounding the car.

when he slides in next to you, he turns and smiles. he gestures to the radio, “want aux?” he asks, reaching for the dingy phone cable. you shake your head no and jack shrugs, smirk pulling at his lips. “suit yourself,” he says, plugging his phone in and pulling up spotify.

jack shuffles through his playlists, scrolling through endless playlists with goofy names until he finally settles in one. you glance over as he chucks his phone into the cup holder and stiffen at the name typed at the top of the playlist.

songs for the pretty assistant.

jack whistles along to the song that plays while your mind spirals. you’re certain it’s just a random playlist that he picked—that you’re not actually the pretty assistant—but he glances over at you as cheesy lyrics ooze from the car speakers. you turn away and stare out the window, listening as jack chuckles and begins driving.

he doesn’t attempt conversation as he goes, content with sitting in silence and tapping along to the soft romance songs that play. you sit with your hands curled on your knees, back pressed harshly into the seat. jack doesn’t say anything about how stiff your posture is, he’s known you long enough to know you. but when he finally pulls up outside your apartment complex, he finally decides to bite.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, looking right at you with gentle eyes and furrowed brows. the automatic light in the parking lot shines down on his face, making the concerned glint in his eyes more apparent.

you gnaw on your lip. “nothing,” you lie, anxiously bringing your hand to your mouth to chew on your fingernails.

you turn your head so you’re staring out the window and jack leans over the middle console to gently grab your chin. your heart feels like it might combust at the sensation of his fingers on your skin, at how rough they are compared to the softness of your face. you swallow thickly.

“c’mon,” jack murmurs. “what’s going on inside your pretty head?”

you want the ground to open up and eat you whole, to take you away. your feet fidget, the sole of your sneaker pressing on your other shoe. you don’t want to admit it, but you like jack—he’s sweet and kind and understanding of your personality. but you know hockey players, and you know that love is a game to them.

so, you say, “why are you messing with me?” it’s the boldest thing you’ve said in the history of your relationship with him, and it shows.

jack stares at you, caught off guard. his eyes are wide and a frown pulls at his pink lips. “what? i’m not messing with you at all.” you want to call him out, but jack doesn’t let you. “i really like you, like, a lot. i thought i made it pretty obvious.” his eyes flutter over your face, ghosting over your eyes and your cheeks and settling on your lips. “just… just wasn’t sure you like me back, or at all.” he lets out a pained chuckle and you feel guilt rise in your throat.

without thinking, you fist the front of his shirt. the action is unpracticed and messy, but you make do. you surge forward and screw your eyes shut, slamming your lips to jack’s without another thought. for a second, he doesn’t reciprocate and you think you’ve made a mistake. you’re about to pull away, but jack wraps tight arms around your waist, hauling himself up just to be closer to you—as if he’ll die if he isn’t as close as he can be.

jack kisses with everything in him, all pining and yearning. he tilts his head and has a hand on the back of your neck, pressing you so close you can feel his chest rise and fall against you. you savor the moment, all of your nerves gone and your mind filled with just jack.

when you pull away, you’re breathless and light headed. you push open the car door and turn to jack, kiss-swollen lips pulled into a mind-blowing smile. “i hope that answers your question.”

[vibeswithdivs]

your heart cracked open

It started like any other race weekend morning — the air tight with tension, the scent of rubber and espresso blending into a familiar, high-octane buzz. The media swarm was already clustering around the garages, microphones angled like weapons, and engineers clicked through telemetry like surgeons preparing for a delicate operation.

Oscar Piastri was where he always was — calm, composed, back straight in his chair while the mechanics zipped up his race suit. One headphone in, listening to pre-race comms. The other off, always just enough in the moment. Always aware.

Until someone said your name.

His head snapped up — not sharply, but enough that the nearby McLaren comms tech glanced sideways.

“She’s okay now,” someone was murmuring behind the hospitality tent. Not loud. Not panicked. Just barely a whisper carried on wind.

Oscar stood up without saying anything.

The kind of movement that made heads turn — not because it was loud, but because it wasn’t. It was silent. Intentional. Heavy.

“What happened?” he asked the nearest McLaren staffer — someone from comms who looked caught off guard.

“I—I think she fainted?” the guy stammered. “Medical took her to the paddock unit, she—uh—she collapsed. They’re saying it was exhaustion but—”

Oscar was already walking away.

Not striding. Not storming. But with that kind of gravity that makes a person seem taller, sharper, dangerous in a way they normally aren’t.

His name was called once over the radio. Then again.

Ignored.

People were turning now — mechanics pausing, drivers going quiet, camera crews lowering their lenses as the ripple moved through the paddock. Oscar Piastri, the one who didn’t raise his voice. The one who barely flinched when things went wrong on track. The one who was a wall of quiet calculation… was moving.

He reached the medical unit doors just as Carlos and Lando were stepping out.

Their expressions changed the second they saw him.

“She’s inside,” Lando started to say, but Oscar’s jaw was already clenched.

Carlos reached out, a hand on his arm. “Mate, she’s alright now. She was just—”

“What happened?” Oscar asked, but it didn’t sound like a question. It was too sharp. Too low. Like he was barely keeping something under the surface.

“Just exhaustion,” Carlos said quickly. “She hadn’t eaten all morning, they think it’s a mix of stress and heat. But she’s okay.”

Oscar’s eyes didn’t move from the closed door behind them.

“Why didn’t anyone call me?” he asked, and this time there was a tremor in the air.

Lando shifted uncomfortably. “We didn’t—she didn’t want to make a scene. She told the medics not to—”

Oscar turned away from them and pushed through the doors.

Inside, you sat on a narrow cot, IV in your arm, color slowly returning to your cheeks. A medic hovered beside you with a clipboard. You were mid-sentence, laughing softly at something they’d said, trying to pretend this wasn’t a big deal.

And then the door opened.

Oscar.

You froze, lips parted in surprise. “Oscar—”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” he asked.

You blinked. “I didn’t want to worry you, I—”

“You collapsed.”

He wasn’t yelling. Not really. But something in his voice cracked around the edges. Like a dam giving way, the pressure too much for someone who’d spent his whole career learning to hold it all in.

“I didn’t want you to leave pre-race briefing,” you said softly.

“Screw briefing,” he snapped. “You were on the ground. You—” He exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair, pacing once like he didn’t trust himself to stand still. “You’re in here with an IV, and I was ten meters away with no idea.”

You swallowed, throat tight.

A long pause stretched between you.

Then quieter, barely above a whisper: “You scared the hell out of me.”

Your heart cracked open.

You reached for his hand, and after a second’s hesitation, he sank down into the chair beside you. His grip was tight. Not rough — but desperate. Grounding.

“I’m okay,” you whispered.

He shook his head. “That’s not the point.”

Outside the door, the world kept moving.

But inside this room, time slowed. Oscar bowed his head, resting his forehead against your knuckles. The tension in his shoulders trembled once, like something had slipped loose from the inside.

You brushed your thumb over his hand.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“I don’t care about the race,” he muttered. “Not if you’re not okay.”

You blinked back tears. “That’s not fair to you.”

“Neither is pretending you’re fine when you’re not.”

The door creaked open behind him — a nurse leaning in to check vitals. Oscar stood quickly, backing away so she could work, but he didn’t let go of your hand.

Not even when more people came in.

Not even when the door opened again and someone from McLaren stuck their head in to remind him he had ten minutes before the pitwalk started.

“I’m staying,” he said simply.

The team rep blinked. “Oscar, Zak—”

“I said I’m staying.”

And with that, he closed the door.

He looked back at you.

His expression was the same one he wore when overtaking at 300 km/h — quiet, precise, full of focus. But this time it wasn’t adrenaline behind his eyes.

It was fear.

And something deeper.

Something close to love.

You squeezed his hand again. “I promise I’ll be okay.”

“I’m holding you to that,” he said.

And this time, when he sat beside you again, he didn’t let go.

[spcherryygirl]

─── 𓈒 𝓨EARNER!𝓙ASON TODD 𝓗EADCANONS ❪ SMUT ❫

𝓖𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 : ; smut headcanons for 𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐃 who yearns. or, well, jason todd who’s ovulating from yearning for you more.

𝓒ONTENTS : : yearner!jason todd. smut. foreplay mentioned. praises. ooc(?). female!reader. smut. light smut. masturbation. sweet nothings. fluff. aftercare. both are of age !! gramatical errors. yearner yearner yearner yearner yearner yearner yearner yearner yearner yearner

BOOKS — DC BOOK

REQUESTED ; SUGGESTED : : @yeoniverseee : I sent you the request on ig not here 😭 I'm sorry, boo. Okay. I need need need need need yearner! Jason Todd headcanons. Begging. Jason Todd in general is already a yearner so it's like ovulating! LMAO

ᨦ𓏲 ، ݃♟❜ : : my....... first...... time.......... writing........ smut............................... I'M NOT VERY GOOD AT THIS— I'M NOT GOOD AT IT AT AWLL SO I'M SOSOSOSO SORRY😓 also, these are HEADCANONS,, & how i see yearner!(ovulating)jason. so.. yeah.. inspired by my two works, most ardently ( mostly this. )& my love. ion think i will ever write smut again... i only wrote this bc my pretty girl was the one who requested 😭( luv u so much. ) sighs.. okay. it's fine. it's cool. && OVULATING!JASON IM SOBBING LDMAO. i made this TWO WEEKS AGO btw.. yeah.. that's how difficult writing smut is for me... so don't expect much. will do a fluff version.. bc no waayyy.. ... but i love-love hannie 😋 god my blog is not sfw anymore. & layout is once again, inspired by eli < 3

yearner!jason todd who touches you like you're a secret he never imagined he'd be able to keep. every time. slow hands. he's committing you to memory. like if he dies again, your skin will be the final thing he sees & feel

yearner!jason todd who gets hard just hearing you say his name. especially when it's soft. or needy. or when you whine while pulling him closer. like, like, it physically affects him. sometimes he bites his lip to keep himself from coming too fast.

yearner!jason todd who always, always, always, always kisses you first. regardless of how desperate he is, regardless of how quickly it begins. there's always a kiss. kisses. kiss. kisses. because to him, it isn't merely sex. it never is just sex. it's a "i missed you. i love you. i fear of losing you." kind.

yearner!jason todd who's a foreplay guy. like…like… he's making out with you for 30-ish minutes before he even considers doing anything else. thighs jammed between yours, his hands pressing up under your shirt, moaning( he moans. like come awn. ) into your mouth like you're air.

yearner!jason todd who wants to go down on you more than he wants to breathe. legit, legit, literally, literally his favorite thing. his hands on your thighs, his eyes on you, humming into you just to feel you squirm( 😛 ). he needs, needs, needs you falling apart because of him.

yearner!jason todd who never, ever, ever, hurries your clothes off. it's slow. like he's unwrapping something holy( but will be doing something unholy,, ). kissing each inch of skin as he takes them off you. whispering little sweet nothings ( well. yeah. shh. it is. he's sweet. very sweet. ) like "so fuckin' beautiful. god, ma, look at you."

yearner!jason todd cried during sex,,, he insisted it was sweat. you both knew otherwise. like. nu-uh. he came so hard he gagged on his own breath, then buried his face against your neck & sniffled. his voice cracked when he said "fuck. i didn't think i'd ever get this.” ( #yearner )

yearner!jason todd who whimpers. not grunts. whimpers.( dc mls, please normalize whimperer!jason. im tired of people saying he only scowls( who scowls during sex though… i don't read smut allat…… ), groans, grunts.. it's yearner!jason anw so yay!! okay i'll stop. ) when it's good. when he's close. when he's overwhelmed. his hips stutter & catch in breath & his hands hold on to you like you'll vanish.

yearner!jason todd who speaks so much in bed. i said it. & not cocky dirty stuff. like emotional crap. "i love you so much." "you feel like heaven." "you make me feel real." between gentle moans & curses & kissing your shoulder. ( like. i changed my mind. put a baby in me already. take that fucking condom awfff. )

yearner!jason todd when he bottoms( or well, let you take control..,, for a bit ), he stops. not because he needs to. because he needs to feel you. needs you to feel him. chest to chest. lips moving. arms trembling. "jesus christ━━baby━━i'm so fuckin' in love with you."

yearner!jason todd who gets overwhelmed. sometimes he freezes in mid sentence just to hug you. arms wrapped tight. face buried in your chest or your neck or your shoulder. grounding himself. because he still can't believe it's real. can't believe that you're real. can't believe that he's real.

yearner!jason todd who says thank you. after. during. every time. sometimes a whisper. sometimes a broken moan. "thank you. fuck. thank you. i needed this. i needed you."

yearner!jason todd who's top kinks are……….. praise, desperation, & you. he doesn’t care where, when, or how. as long as you’re there. tell him he’s good. tell him he’s perfect. he’ll lose it.

yearner!jason todd who he always finishes with his face pressed to you. in your neck. on your chest. buried between your thighs. somewhere soft. somewhere safe( yes, your cunt is very safe for him ) .

yearner!jason todd who loves watching you cum,, multiple times. because.,,, gets so hooked. hooked on your sounds, the movement of your body, the way you moan his name as if it's the only thing you know.

yearner!jason todd who's aftercare is crazy. insane. five stars. warm towels, water, checking your skin, running a bath, walking you. he won't stop unless you make him. he needs to know you're alright. that he didn't mess it up. that you're still his. “don’t think i know how to do this” my ass.

yearner!jason todd who'll l kiss each & every mark he made. each bruise, each scratch, each hickey. mumbling little sorrys( that you are convinced he doesn't mean.. but does at the same time.. like. yeah. ) & "mine" simultaneously. it's possessive, but also very, very, gentle.

yearner!jason todd who needs touch you even afterwards. clingy. messy. burried you onto his chest, or snuggling into your arms. hand in your shirt. leg between your legs. mumbled half asleep,,, "don't leave. not yet."

yearner!jason todd who masturbates to thinking about your first time all the time. not because it was sexy ( although it was ), but because it mattered. because you made a choice.& that choice is him. he'll stroke himself slow, moaning your name into his pillow, hips jerking like he's there. & kaboom. woah.

yearner!jason todd who's an absolute menace when you’re teasing. brushing against him, wearing something skimpy, straddling him casually. he gets shaky. hard. clenches his jaw. begs with his eyes before he even opens his mouth.

yearner!jason todd who's hands tremble when he's desperate. like when it's been too long, or when you kissed him too slowly, or when he's been missing you. he'll press his forehead against yours & plead, softly, "please angel, please let me have you."

yearner!jason todd who loves, loves, loves it when you ride him. looks up at you like he's beholding a god( or zimba, your choice ). mouth open. hands on your waist. little compliments with each bounce. "that's it. fuck━━look at you. you're everything."

yearner!jason todd who groans your name when he climaxes. no censorship( lol yeah no no ). loud, oh, loud, sometimes strangled. like it's being torn from his chest. like it's the last word he'll ever speak. like he's dying again but in a good way.

yearner!jason todd who keeps something of yours in his pillowcase( with permission, of course !! actually, you gave it to him ). for nights when he can’t have you. a shirt. a scarf… your underwear. bra. sweater. something that smells like you. he presses his face to it, wraps around it like he’s holding you. sometimes he’ll jerk off holding it. sometimes he just cries.

yearner!jason todd who needs it to be about love. even when it's complicated. even when he's complicated. even when you're complicated. he'll bite your shoulder & grab your hair & swear under his breath, but he always slows down to kiss you like you saved him. ( #needthat #isthisavailableonamazon #howaboutshein #maybelazada #orshoppee )

© spcherryygirl

[sarahsturnn]

wait now hold onnn

Matt sturniolo announcing he is a dad

Y/N sat on the couch, fingers laced tightly in her lap. Matt was next to her, calm on the outside, but his knee bouncing said otherwise.

Across from them, Nick was sprawled out on the armchair, sipping a soda, while Chris was half-watching the game on TV.

“So,” Matt started, glancing at Y/N, “we, uh..have something to tell you.”

Nick sat up immediately. “Oh god. You’re not moving, are you?”

Matt took a breath. “Y/N’s pregnant.”

Silence.

Chris blinked. “Wait. What?”

Nick stared at them for a full two seconds. Then

“No freaking way!” he shouted, jumping to his feet. “Are you serious?!”

Y/N nodded, smiling a little, eyes watery.

“Ten weeks,” Matt added, grinnin

Nick practically launched himself across the room and wrapped Y/N in a huge, careful hug. “I’m gonna be an uncle?! Holy shit its happening!”

Chris stood up slower, but a big smile spread across his face. “Dude. That’s insane. Congrats.”

Y/N laughed, wiping a tear. “We’ve been wanting to tell you both for weeks. We just… wanted to wait until it felt real.”

“It feels real now,” Matt said, smiling at her.

Nick flopped back into the chair, already buzzing. “Okay. First of all—this kid is gonna be so spoiled. I’m bringing a drum set to your house. Day one.”

“Please don’t,” Y/N said, half-joking.

Nick ignored her. “And I’m totally teaching them how to skateboard. Or how to write dumb songs. Whatever they want.”

Matt shook his head, still smiling. “Let’s wait until the baby can hold its head up first.”

Chris walked over and gave Y/N a warm hug. “I’m really happy for you guys. You’re gonna be amazing parents.”

Y/N leaned into the hug. “Thanks. I’m… nervous. But excited.”

Nick’s voice cut in again. “Do we get to help pick names? Like, what are we thinking? Classic? Weird? I vote weird.”

Matt laughed. “We don’t even have a list yet. We just found out everything looks okay at the appointment.”

“God, this is the best news I’ve heard all year,” Nick said, still smiling like a kid on Christmas. “You two are gonna crush it. And this baby? Already loved as hell.”

Y/N looked around the room—Nick pacing with excitement, Chris still a little in shock but grinning, and Matt beside her, hand resting on hers. Her heart felt full.

Whatever came next, they weren’t doing it alone.

@slut4mattstvrniolo

idk how i feel about this

Someone please make a fic abt y/n and Matt telling nick and Chris she’s pregnant PLEASE and Nick is super excited ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

[sour-cherryyy]

SNOWED IN. 〜Ni-ki

Pairing: Bf!Ni-ki x Gf!reader Summary: When a snowstorm cuts your date short, Ni-ki ends up spending the night at your apartment. What begins as innocent closeness quickly deepens into something far less innocent. Word count: 3.1k A/n: MDNI!! 18+ Smut & fluff. So nervous while writing this! It literally took everything in me to muster up the courage and post. There's like a whole long ass story before the spicy stuff bc I had to mentally prepare myself lol. But I hope you guys like it. (Requests are open) Now playing: UN Village By Beakhyun

---------------------------------------------------------˚✿❄️

The door clicks shut behind you. You're both breathing hard from the sprint up the stairs with Ni-ki’s laughter still dancing through the warm, quiet hallway as he stamps the snow from his boots. 

“Wow,” he says, brushing melting flakes from his shoulders. “That came out of nowhere.” 

You nod, heart racing from the cold. Your cheeks sting, your fingers are numb, and there’s a giddy kind of buzz in your chest from the sudden change of plans. The storm rolled in quicker than anyone expected, and now, just like that, he’s in your apartment. 

Ni-ki shakes out his jacket and glances around your apartment as he sees it for the first time. “It’s cute,” he says, his lips curving slightly, “Very you.” 

You watch him, still by the door, arms wrapped around yourself like you’re unsure what to do now. You didn’t expect this. The night was supposed to end with a casual goodbye, maybe a second kiss in the car, a text an hour later.  

Instead, he’s standing in your hallway, clearly staying.  

“Oh,” you say, breaking the quiet. “Let me get you some dry clothes.” 

He follows you toward your room, shedding his damp hoodie as he goes. You catch a glimpse of the shirt riding up beneath it a sneak peek of his v-line. You look away too quickly and bump into the dresser. 

He chuckles behind you. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine. Just, uh, didn’t expect the weather to turn into a whole blizzard.” 

Ni-ki steps closer. Not too close, but enough that the space between you sharpens. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I’m kind of an unexpected guest now, huh?” 

“No.” you say firmly, trying to hide your nervousness. 

You hand him an old sweatshirt- oversized, worn in- and avoid looking at him as he thanks you and changes right there, like it’s nothing.  

“Why are you acting so shy?” He smiles as if he's done this a million times before. 

He’s really comfortable. And although he hasn’t been in your apartment before,he has been in your orbit long enough to know how to move in your space. 

You’re not used to that. Not used to someone this confident especially when you're dying inside. 

Not looking up from the spot on the wall you’ve been eyeing, you answer. “I’m giving you some privacy.” 

“Well, I'm done.” He tosses the damp clothes on the heater.  

You blink, realizing you’re still in your (now slightly wet) outside clothes. “Right. I should change.” 

Ni-ki catches the glance you throw toward your door and lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, I’ll give you some space.” 

He turns and disappears into the kitchen, leaving the soft sound of cabinets opening and the hum of your heater behind him. You move quickly, peeling off the damp layers and pull on a set of soft shorts and an oversized t-shirt with a faded mickey mouse across the front. Comfortable and somewhat safe. 

Still, you hesitate before stepping out. You know it’s just sleepwear, but it feels different now. This isn’t just a solo night or a casual video call. Ni-ki is here. In person.

When you finally emerge, he’s crouched in front of your pantry, holding up a half-full bag of marshmallows with a hopeful expression. 

He looks up. 

And he freezes for just a second- nothing dramatic, just a blink too long, his eyes flicking down, then right back up to meet yours. His lips part slightly, like he was about to say something and forgot the words. 

Then, with a lazy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, he says, “cute.”, voice lower than usual. 

You tilt your head in confusion. “It’s just pyjamas.” 

“Hot chocolate?” he offers, changing the subject back to the marshmallows he's holding. “Or is this just a snack stash?” 

You laugh, tension easing. “Help yourself. I’ll start the movie.” 

He joins you on the couch a few minutes later, two mismatched mugs in hand and his eyes already scanning your small stack of DVDs. 

“You seriously own It Takes Two on disc? You’re so old.” he says, settling in beside you with a blanket draped over his lap. 

“It’s a classic,” you say defensively, scrolling to the input channel. “Mary-Kate and Ashley carried my childhood.” 

He snorts. “No argument. Just surprised you didn’t go for something darker. Thought you were all ‘psychological thriller’ vibes.” 

“That’s only on weekdays.” 

You press play, and the familiar opening notes start up. The couch is small, and without really talking about it, you both end up under the same blanket, legs stretched out in the same direction. His feet brush yours occasionally, each touch sending a tiny jolt up your spine. You don’t move away. 

The movie plays on- half commentary, half laughter, and full of those quiet glances when the other person isn’t looking.  

At some point, you reach for your phone, curious how long the storm might last. You expect to see a few flurries and mild delays. Instead, your notifications are filled with alerts. 

Heavy snowfall. Whiteout conditions. Road closures. 

You sit up straighter. 

Ni-ki leans over to peek at your phone. “That bad?” 

You scroll again, confirming it. “Yeah. Looks like everything’s shut down for the night. Buses, Ubers... even walking would be dangerous. Were Snowed In.” 

He raises an eyebrow. “So, I’m not going anywhere, huh?” 

You shake your head slowly. “Doesn’t look like it.” 

He leans back, arms stretched behind his head, casual. “Well, that’s it then. Guess I’m your problem for the night.” 

You glance over at him, heart doing something you don’t have a name for. The movie still plays in the background, the screen casting soft light across his face. He’s smiling- but it’s softer now. 

And for some reason, you’re not nervous anymore. 

You just smile back. “I’ve had worse problems.” 

He tosses you a cushion in mock offense, but he’s still grinning, “Thanks for letting me crash.” he says, voice lower now, calmer. “I’ll take the couch.” 

You shake your head gently. “You’re taller than the couch.” 

He lifts a brow, half amused. “You think I don’t know how to fold myself in half? I’m very flexible.” 

You have a hard time believing he’ll have a comfortable night your small couch. You can’t even sleep comfortably on your couch.

“Still,” you say, clearing your throat, “I’m not going to make you sleep out here. It's cold. The bed’s big enough.” 

There’s a beat of silence. 

He studies you- not just your face, but the way you say it. Your voice isn’t flirty. Just genuine and trusting. And somehow that makes the room feel warmer than the heater ever could. 

“You sure?” he asks, voice gentler now. 

You nod. 

He smiles- soft, that rare kind of smile you’ve only seen once or twice when the world goes quiet around him. “Alright,” he says. “If you’re okay with it.” 

You don’t make it a big deal. You both pretend it isn’t. He helps you lay out extra blankets, teases your pillow choices (“You really have one shaped like a peach?”), and the air feels lighter with each passing minute. 

When you finally crawl under the covers, it’s both familiar and unfamiliar. You’ve cuddled before- on movie nights at his place, during slow evenings when neither of you wanted to say goodbye- but there’s something different about slipping under the sheets beside him. Just the two of you having nowhere else to be. 

He settles beside you with easy grace, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting lightly across his stomach. You lie on your side, facing him, watching how the soft glow of your lamp casts faint shadows along his jaw. 

He turns to look at you. “You cold?” 

You shake your head. “Not really.” 

He shifts closer anyway, just a little, his arm brushing yours beneath the blanket. “Still feel like I should keep you warm,” he murmurs. 

You don’t shy away. You don’t need to. Being this close feels like the most natural thing in the world. 

“You always do,” you say quietly. 

The corner of his mouth lifts. “That sounds like something someone would say in a movie.” 

“Yeah, well. I’m not very original.” 

He turns toward you fully now, his voice lower, more serious. “No. You’re just honest. That’s better.” 

You lie there in the quiet, heartbeat a steady thrum against the pillow, and you wonder if he can feel it from here. If he knows what it’s like for you- how new this all is.

“You okay?” he asks softly. 

You nod, but then you add, “I’ve never done this before.” 

“Done what?” his eyes are set on yours. 

You shrug, “Shared a bed with a boy.” 

He chuckles and reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingertips lingering against your cheek. “You don’t have to do anything,” he says. “We’re just sleeping. That’s all.” 

“But what if I want to do something?” you ask, voice steady despite the rush in your chest. 

He doesn’t pretend to misunderstand. His eyes search yours, thoughtful and kind, and for a moment, you expect him to pull back. 

Instead, he pulls you even closer.  

You slide easily into the space he makes for you. His hand finds the small of your back and the weight of it sends a flutter straight through your chest. 

"Are you sure?" he murmurs, his voice low, like it’s meant only for you. 

You nod, barely. “Yeah.” 

And that’s all it takes. 

He kisses you deeply. There’s a deliberateness to the way he moves, like he’s reading you in real time, learning what makes you lean in and what makes your fingers tug at the fabric of his borrowed sweatshirt. He takes the hint and slips out of it with ease. 

In return, his hand trails up your side, beneath the hem of your own t-shirt, lingering, waiting, asking. You nod, sensing his hesitation and off it comes. 

His lips crash back into yours as his hands roam your figure unapologetically. You exhale into the kiss, pressing in closer until there’s barely any space left between you. His leg shifts, and suddenly you’re straddling one of his thighs, the blanket slipping slightly as the heat between your bodies overtakes the chill from the cold outside.  

You break the kiss with a small gasp, forehead pressed to his, catching your breath. One of his hands stay on your waist as the other travels up to your chest. His thumb proceeding to draw slow, absent circles against your nipple. 

“Is this... okay?” he asks softly.  

“God, yes!” you whisper eagerly. 

You can't help but grind down on his thigh chasing for some sort of friction to ease the acing building at your core. 

You lean in closer, your hands tracing the outline of his Adams apple and the curve of his neck. You press your lips to the spot just beneath his jaw, and he exhales like you’ve undone something in him. 

Something shifts in his expression- like tension unravelling, like desire held back too long now flickering into something deeper.  

“Good.” he says, voice rough. 

And then he kisses you again- this time with a different kind of certainty. His hand leaving your breast and dragging down to trace the hem of your shorts before dipping in past your panties. 

His slender fingers trace a line up your slit slowly feeling how soaked you've become. 

He breathes out a shaky laugh, brushing his lips against your neck. “You’re so wet for me, baby” he says, low and honest. 

He continues, drawing lazy slow circles against your clit, each one sending little waves of pleasure pulsing through your body. He watches your face closely as you close your eyes, as if he’s memorizing your every expression. 

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, gripping the sheets at your side as your body melts into his touch. His other hand grips your thigh tensely, grounding you in the moment, anchoring you to him.  

“Just like that?” he whispers, thumb brushing with barely-there pressure. 

You shake your head, speaking before you can think. “Need. More.” you manage, voice breathless. 

His eyes darken just slightly, not with surprise- but with intention. 

Then, in one smooth movement, he flips you over. Your back meets the mattress with a soft bounce, and he follows you down, bracing himself with an arm beside your head. His face hovers just inches from yours, gaze locked onto yours, searching. 

“You want more?” he asks, voice lower now almost like a growl. 

You don’t answer with words. You just pull him down by the back of his neck and kiss him like you’ve been waiting forever to. 

Its hungry, messy, and filled with desire. You feel his fingers skim over the bare skin of your hips, dragging down slowly like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you. 

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, eyes locked on yours, giving you just a breath of warning before he slides them down in one smooth motion without hesitation. The cool air brushes over your skin, leaving you exposed beneath him.  

But he never looks away, appreciating your perfect body, taking it all in. 

Then without skipping a beat he strips off the rest of his own clothes. Your eyes widen at the sight of him and the size his erect length. 

“Woah,” you breathe, the word slipping out before you can stop it. 

A low, amused smile curves at his lips. He leans in just slightly, his voice dipping into something playful and warm. “Yeah?” 

You nod, still staring down at him, still adjusting to the new reality unfolding between you. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Definitely.” 

He looms over you, clearly thrilled at the ego boost you just gave him.

He rubs his tip against your clit, grinding into you, letting you feel him. The anticipation is almost enough to undo you.  

You arch up into him, impatient, wordlessly conveying what you want.  

You hold your breath as he pushes in, slow and careful, watching every change in your expression. It’s a stretch, a fullness that borders on too much, but just when you think it might overwhelm you, he stops. He stills, buried only halfway, breathing heavily against your ear.  

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice laced with tension, like it’s taking every ounce of control to hold back. 

You exhale, the discomfort already melting away into something far sweeter. “More than okay,” you assure him. “Don’t stop.”  

He groans softly, sounding more like relief than pleasure, then thrusts the rest of the way in. 

You gasp, fingers digging into his back, overwhelmed by the sensation of him fully inside you. It’s something you couldn’t have imagined and yet somehow, it’s exactly what you want, what you need, what you’ve been waiting for.  

He pauses, letting you adjust, letting you catch your breath. “God,” he murmurs, forehead resting against yours, “you’re so tight.” 

You shift slightly beneath him, testing the limits of what you can take, and he swears under his breath. “Please,” you whimper. 

He draws back, almost all the way out, then thrusts in again. The motion sends a shockwave through you, your body tightening around him instinctively, pulling him even deeper.  

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, and this time he doesn’t stop.  

He finds a rhythm that builds, each thrust more insistent, more certain. His hands grip your waist, fingers pressing into your skin, pulling you closer to meet him. It’s more than you’ve ever felt before, a pleasure so sharp all you can do is hold on and let him take you there.  

The room around you disappears, the storm outside silenced, everything reduced to the sound of your rapid breathing and the steady, relentless slap of his hips against yours. You’re not sure how much longer you can last like this, every thrust tearing you apart and putting you back together, and Ni-ki seems to sense it.  

He presses his face to your neck, teeth grazing lightly against your skin as he drives into you with increasing urgency. “Gonna make you come so hard,” he promises, voice almost desperate.  

Your body is already responding, tension coiling tighter, tighter, until it’s all you can do to gasp his name.  

He snakes a hand between your bodies, thumb finding your clit with shocking precision, and you’re done for. The coil snaps, the world shatters like glass, and you come so hard you might actually be crying, though you can’t tell for sure.  

He’s right there with you. The sensation of you clenching around him drags him over the edge, a deep groan escaping as he pulses inside you. 

He spills into you with a groan, his body shuddering against yours, warmth flooding you in hot, dizzying waves. He’s beautiful like this, you think dimly, and you cling to the thought as you hold on to him, riding out the last of it together.  

In the aftermath, you both lie there, tangled in a mess of limbs and sheets, struggling to catch your breath. The world comes back into focus slowly- the quiet hum of the heater, the gentle patter of snow against the window, the steady beat of Ni-ki’s heart beating in rhythm with yours. 

“Wow,” you whisper, still half-dazed, still wondering if you dreamed the whole thing. 

He laughs softly, brushing a damp strand of hair off your forehead. “Wow,” he agrees, his fingers trailing lightly down your side, leaving a pleasant shiver in their wake.  

You don’t know how long you stay like this, just holding each other, neither of you quite willing to move yet. Long enough for the sweat to cool on your skin, long enough for your breathing to even out, long enough for the reality of what just happened to sink in. 

He shifts eventually, rolling onto his side, facing you fully. You match his movement, settling into the warmth of him, the steady rise and fall of his breathing lulling you into a blissful haze.

“Hey,” he murmurs. 

“Mhm?” 

“Why didn’t you let me watch you change earlier?” 

“Huh?” you ask, recalling your previous interaction. 

“I mean, I was going to see you naked anyways,” he teases.

You poke his side, feeling him squirm just slightly, a breathless chuckle escaping your lips. “Shut up.” 

For some reason, writing about sex is way more nerve wracking than actually having sex. Also, if you haven't watched ‘It Takes Two’ idk what you're doing. pls go watch it rn. Best movie ever, literally. I think I may have watched it more than 20 times since I was 5. Comment and reblog if you enjoyed it. Thanks for making it to the end, -EL (masterlist)

[bakug0uzb1thc]

You should add more to the childhood friends scenario u wrote :3

Ofc ofc 👅👅

Shameless by Avenoir

(I didn’t know what to title this so I just put down what I was listening to— ignore if you want !!)

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

You knew katsuki just as long as Izuku has and what genuinely perplexed you was how differently he treated the both of you.

He was aggressive, Hostile and grumpy towards Deku and threatening every chance he was given. But with you? He was a whole different person entirely.

He made sure to check up on you like clockwork, he was soft and caring he even went out of his way numerous times just to walk you home after school. (he even had an alarm set named ‘tell girly to eat food/drink water.) you never understood why he did it.

But it was all becuase you were his girl.

He wasn’t good with words or telling you how he felt— but he knew he loved you. An unconditional type of love that he couldn’t run from.

If you asked him to give up being a hero, he would be conflicted but in the end he would shamelessly choose you.

It would tick him off if any guy got even 5 feet from you. If it happened with Izuku it was one thing becuase he had learned to share you but if it was some random NPC extra he would blow a fume.

~~~

Katsuki had invited you out for coffee as an excuse to ‘study’ which in other words was him wanting to take you out and to enjoy your company but the last thing he was expecting was for you to get hit on.

“Okay Kats sit tight I’ll go order, could you set my computer up?” You asked sweetly as you straightened out your skirt from any wrinkles that were gained by the way you sat.

“ yeah ‘course.” He glanced down at your thighs for a slight moment before reaching across the table and grabbing your computer.

You muttered a quick ‘thanks’ before turning a corner to the register that was out of his eyes sight.

He opened the computer and was greeted by a sweet photo of Little you and Katsuki. It was a photo his mom took of you kissing his cheek after he gave you a flower crown. He subconsciously smiled at the sweet memory before putting in your password and pulling up the assignment you were complaining about having to do.

A good 10 minutes passed since you left and he was growing fidgety. ‘Ordering a fuckin coffee doesn’t take 10 whole minutes what is the damned brat doing.’ He grumbled in his head before saying fuck the waiting game and getting up. he was genuinely ticked off.

by ticked off he was mildly annoyed but that was a forgotten feeling the second he saw a pretty boy at the counter basically begging you for your number. Knowing you, you were too nice to full on tell him no though it was evident that you were trying your best to decline the coffee boy.

“Now what’s goin on here.” His booming voice joined the pressed conversation which made your worry’s vanish. You had your big scary guard dog back and you just knew it wasn’t gonna end well. (He did it so you didn’t have to.)

“Oh hey suki, it’s nothing he’s was just—“

“About to piss me off?” He snarled causing the coffee boy to sweat. “Uh— here’s your drink ma’am have a nice day!!” He said like he wasn’t just hitting on you 5 seconds before Katsuki showed up barking his existence to the guy.

“Yeah, what I thought.” Katsuki spat putting both drinks in your hands and ushering you to walk in front of him. But it wasn’t over between him and Ice cream boy over the counter.

‘My girl’ was all he mouthed before scrunching up his nose and shoving his hand in the back pocket of your denim skirt.

The scared look The guy gave him made him chuckle lowly, it made the hairs on the back of your neck stick up but you loved your scary dog privileges.

(I couldn’t decide if I wanted them together or not so make with what you will :D !!)

[beanarie]

okay. so this is part 4 of the temperature of becoming something (aka "buck takes a mental health break"). meaning it takes place before the one i posted yesterday and that guy is part 5. cool? 👍 cool. all the previous parts can be found on #things by beanarie or #my writing

~

Chim, busy as he is, mostly just sends links. Or rather, link. The grief assessment Buck used to check in on everyone. If Buck doesn't respond with his score within an hour, Chimney starts telling progressively more disgusting anecdotes. There are a lot in his arsenal. He's been on the job a long time.

(Buck): +I should just block you++

(Chimney): +Cede to my demands and nobody's lunch gets ruined++

(Buck): +It was dessert this time. I'll never be able to eat raspberry cheesecake again++

(Chimney): +You know what you need to do, young man!++

Early on, Chim sent over a couple of license plate bingo cards. At first, Buck refuses to let himself count the cars he finds at large tourist traps, but the further he goes, and the more time stretches before he finds Rhode Island, he starts to get a little desperate.

He bought a road atlas on ebay, and every so often he traces the lines with his finger. Salt Lake to Cheyenne, then south on I-25 to Denver, and west again to Kansas City, then St. Louis.

Albert meets him in Memphis, bafflingly.

"I need advice on what to get Bo," he says. "You've spent much more time being their uncle than I have."

"Flights aren't cheap," Buck says. "Everyone expected you to go directly to LA."

Albert makes a dismissive gesture. "I'm doing okay. My father's competitor pays very well."

Outside a very loud, music-themed bar, Albert strikes up a conversation with a couple of very pretty teachers from Minnesota.

"So." Buck says, suddenly hyper aware of what his face is doing. "Uh, what subjects do you teach?"

At the Graceland gift shop, Albert gets Jee a tiny guitar and Bo a toy keyboard. Buck considers dissuading him, envisioning a series of early morning wake-up's in Chim and Maddie's future, but decides against it. Kids are supposed to make noise. It's healthy.

~

Maddie's voice is doing something funny, a little wheedling. "I, uh," she says. "I know you're kinda going where the wind takes you, but can I make a request?"

So, Orlando. Classmates went pretty much constantly throughout elementary school, with several trips happening in middle school and high school as well, especially for those with younger siblings. Buck wasn't sure exactly what to expect. The motels surrounding the various parks are oddly bleak, despite bright color schemes. This one is an eye-searing shade of fuchsia.

As usual, the first thing he hears is Jee's shout, and he goes down on one knee so she can run directly into his arms.

"There's my favorite girl," he says, tightening his hold marginally as he gets to his feet.

"I have a brother!" she yells into his ear. "We left him home with Daddy and Uncle Albert, but you should meet him!"

Buck laughs. "I know Bo. I haven't been gone that long."

"Oh!" Jee says. "You know he's really loud and stinky?"

"You were loud and stinky, too," Maddie says, amused. "Now let me hug my brother."

He lowers Jee to the ground, dangling her extra slow to make her giggle, and then looks at Maddie. "Hey," he says.

"Hey." She holds on for a long time. "I'm with the kid. It felt like you've been gone a lot longer than you have."

He looks at Jee, pulling on his hand, realizing he expected her to be bigger, more grown.

Buck feels the blood drain from his face when he spies the prices at the ticket booth.

"I know," Maddie says, shuddering. Jee is already jumping up and down at her side. "Thankfully I got discounted passes."

"How much of a discount?" Buck mutters.

She looks tired. "Don't ask."

Jee runs ahead of them as soon as they get scanned in. "Where's Elsa?!?"

After dropping them off at the airport, Buck heads south. Michael and David are thrilled to host him for the night, to talk about Bobby with someone who knew him as well as Michael did. It's awkward at first, Buck never spent much time with them one on one (or two on one), but with some great seafood the stories start flowing.

They're getting to the tail end of the call that almost landed them all in prison for bank robbery, and Buck wipes his eyes, still laughing a little. "You know, I told my ex this story, and this was the point where he had to tap out. He even called me a liar."

David nods furiously. "I don't blame him! The diamonds were in the guy the whole time? They're what actually killed him? No way."

"Interesting choice of pronoun there," Michael points out. His expression hasn't changed. "Bobby told me a little over the years about your romantic... let's say, mistrials with women. The reporter. The teammate; oh yeah, he was steamed about that one. Thought he'd have HR or whatever the LAFD equivalent is on his neck for allowing 'fraternization'."

"Oh, god." Buck hides his face in his hands.

"What ended up happening there?" Michael says. "He only mentioned it the once."

"We made out at a bar. One time. Never went any further than that." Buck doesn't mention that these two were actually simultaneous and that it led to some of the most shameful behavior of his adult life. "She transferred out not long after."

"Not because of you," David asks hopefully, throwing him a bone.

"No, she was actually a pilot. She went to air support. They had no openings for a while, I guess."

"Oh, a pilot, too!" Michael says, bringing him back to Maddie's kitchen. So, tell me about this hot pilot. "And what about this other ex, the he/him?"

Buck feels the flush coming out in his cheeks. "He's, um. He's a pilot as well."

David takes the bottle of wine and refills his glass. "So this woman you made out with was on your team and then your ex's team? Did she introduce you?"

"Oh, no. That's a whole 'nother story involving Bobby and Athena and a cruise and a hurricane. Also pirates? But I didn't get to see any."

After David goes to bed, Michael helps Buck get set up in Harry's room. Michael's expression is grave and unexpectedly awkward. "I could never ask Athena this, but-"

Buck breathes in for a count of five. "It's okay. No, he- he didn't suffer. Not really." He's thought about this a lot--even moreso after Eddie shot his mouth off--analyzed the day from every conceivable angle, to the finest minute detail. "The virus wasn't- wasn't +easy++ on him, but when he went downhill, his heart gave out pretty quick. I think his heart attack, you know? Or- Or his age."

Michael exhales shakily. "Okay. Thank you, Buck." There are tears in his eyes. "+Thank you++."

He embraces Buck hard. It feels nice.

Michael sniffles and lets go, patting Buck on the shoulder. "Do you want to stay another day? You're welcome to stick around a little longer."

"Thank you, but I have an appointment up north." And by that he means, if he wants to stop by Hershey without dealing with his parents, he's got ten days before they get back from LA. The trip itself, from point A to B, would only take a day and a half, but he wanted to do the North Carolina islands and he doesn't want to rush through it.

~

Getting to see his family and Bobby's people chips away enough of the concrete block for Buck to check his text thread with Eddie.

The first dozen or so are useless and dotted with attempts at guilting him via photos of Chris and the other kids. Buck is stronger now; he can recognize what Eddie is doing and keep scrolling. He does save the photos, though.

The thread ends in an interesting way.

(Eddie): +I started seeing Frank again. Chim and Hen strongly encouraged it. Ordered, more like.++

(Eddie): +It's teaching me things about myself I didn't want to own up to. I let Shannon down, hard. I can never make up for that. I don't want that for you and me.++

(Eddie): +I mean I hope you give me another chance. You're the best friend I ever had, Buck.++

Buck stretches out on the bed and initiates a call.

"Evan?"

His eyes slide across the ceiling. "What were you scared of, when you left me last year? Like, what was your worst case scenario?"

"Uh."

"Did it look anything like what I said to you in Eddie's kitchen?"

"Not entirely. Evan, can you tell me where you are?"

"I'm in a hotel. Don't call dispatch. I just realized I never apologized for that. It was shitty. You pissed me off, so I lashed out. That's not who I wanna be. It's not what you deserve, either."

"What do I deserve?"

"Someone good. Someone who looks at you the way you used to look at me."

"How did I look at you?"

Buck bites his lip. "Like you could love me."

"Evan, I..."

Buck waits until he can't hold his breath anymore. "What?"

"I shouldn't say it. You're vulnerable right now."

"I'm not drunk. And even if I was, there's not much you can do to me from there. I'm of sound mind."

"Fine, um. You used to look at me like that, too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Sometimes."

"Can- Can I call you?"

"Now you're asking permission? The toothpaste is kinda out of the tube, big guy."

"I meant again. Regularly. We could talk."

"Talking would be novel for us. We could use some practice."

"Yeah. Yeah, right? We- We could."

"Got any topics on deck?" Tommy asks gamely.

Buck grins. "You ever heard of Ocracoke? It's an island south of Kitty Hawk. Most people know it as the place Blackbeard died. But did you know they kind of have their own language? A dialect, anyway. It's called High Tider. Isn't that cool?"

Tommy lets out a warm chuckle.

@hyperfocusthusly @chococara25 @peppermintquartz

[alltimecharlo]

i read ur vet!mack and rookie!will fic and LOOOOOVED it but what about vet!will and rookie!mack???

thank you!!! and absolutely 🩵 had to think about this one a bit because i didn’t want to just repeat the same dynamic :) fic under the cut!

Mack’s hands are shaking.

It’s not noticeable, probably. He’s gotten good at hiding that sort of thing. But still, his stick feels slippery in his grip as he follows the rest of the team out onto the ice for warmups, and his gaze—traitorous and automatic—flicks over to where Will Smith is already gliding along the boards, chatting with a few of the other guys like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

Will’s helmet isn’t on yet. His hair’s all messy and golden under the arena lights, and when he throws his head back to laugh at something Vinny says, Mack nearly trips over his own skates.

“Jesus,” he mutters, forcing his eyes down. He fakes adjusting his tape.

He’s not the only rookie this year, but he might as well be. The others don’t seem to be feeling the same kind of bone-deep awe that he is. Maybe they didn’t grow up watching Will Smith highlights on repeat, didn’t spend three years with a poster of Will in a Sharks jersey stuck to the their wall.

Maybe they don’t have a massive, stupid crush on him.

“Rookie,” Will calls, skating over.

Mack nearly forgets how to breathe.

Will slows to a stop right in front of him, spraying snow, and leans casually on his stick. “You alright? You look a little green.”

Mack is not alright. Will is way too close and even better looking up close, and his voice is all easy and warm and playful. His smile is soft around the edges.

“I—yeah,” Mack says, which is already too high-pitched. He clears his throat. “Fine. Just—first game jitters.”

Will’s eyes crinkle. “Totally normal. I was a wreck my first game, too. Didn’t sleep the night before.”

“Really?” Mack blurts before he can stop himself.

“Sure,” Will says, grinning. “Threw up three times. Didn’t tell anyone until after the fact, obviously. Gotta protect the ego.”

Mack laughs a little, helplessly. Will makes it so easy.

“Tell you what,” Will says. “First shift, I’ll be out there with you. Just stick close to me. I’ll keep an eye on you.”

Mack might actually pass out.

“Uh—yeah. Okay. Thanks. That’d be—great.”

Will pats his shoulder pad. “You’ve got this, Macklin.”

Mack’s heart doesn’t stop racing the entire warmup.

—

It only gets worse.

Will is always there. At practice, nudging Mack into better position with an encouraging, “Nice, rookie.” On the bench, cracking jokes until Mack’s face hurts from smiling. After games, sitting beside him on the bus and letting Mack lean into his side when he’s too tired to sit up straight.

And Mack is suffering.

“I think I’m dying,” Mack groans one day in the locker room. Eky gives him a look. Collin just sighs.

“It’s called a crush,” Collin says. “You’ll live.”

“He helped me tie my tie this morning,” Mack says. “Touched my neck and everything. I nearly combusted.”

“Maybe he likes you back,” Eky suggests.

Mack gives him a flat look. “He’s Will Smith. He doesn’t like—nobody has dumb crushes on me.”

“You’re an idiot,” Collin says, affectionately.

—

Mack doesn’t expect it to happen like this.

He’s sitting alone in the video room one evening, reviewing clips of his last few shifts and trying not to obsess over the slow-mo of him almost colliding with Will on a line change.

“Hey,” a voice says from the door.

Mack turns around to see Will leaning in the doorway, casual as anything, hoodie and sweats and a backwards cap.

“Hey,” Mack echoes, heart leaping into his throat.

Will steps in and shuts the door behind him.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Will says, smile a little unsure now.

“What? No,” Mack says, too quickly. “Just—busy. Trying to get better.”

Will tilts his head. “I’ve been wondering if I did something wrong.”

“No!” Mack sits up straighter. “No, god, Will, you—you’ve been amazing, I just—”

He trails off. There’s no good way to say, I’ve been avoiding you because I get a little lightheaded every time you smile at me and I want to kiss you so bad it’s actively painful.

Will takes a step closer. “Mack. Do you—like me?”

Mack’s ears burn. “You—you know who you are, right?”

Will laughs. “Yeah, unfortunately. Do you?”

“What?”

“You’re not just some rookie,” Will says. “You’re Macklin Celebrini. You’re incredible. I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you out for weeks.”

Mack’s jaw drops.

“You’re kidding,” he says faintly.

“I’m not,” Will says, smiling now. “So. What do you think?”

Mack launches himself into his arms.

It’s a little desperate. Will doesn’t seem to mind.

He catches him easily and laughs against Mack’s mouth when he kisses him. “Took you long enough,” Will murmurs.

“I thought I was dreaming,” Mack breathes, dizzy.

Will kisses him again. “Not dreaming. Just lucky.”

♡

[cyberhughes]

REVOLVE #𝒄.𝒃𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒅

𝜗𝜚˖ ࣪ ִ𐙚 summary you and connor were like the sun and the moon, one shining brightly while the other donned a shadow.

warnings nothing just angst wc 1k

note requested for my 500 celly<3 this was heavily inspired by "in my room" by julia wolf my #1 song for rainy days. i'm always talking about yearning final boss but guys THIS is it...anyways i hope you enjoy this one made me wanna bash my head in lol i'm really trying to improve in my descriptions and trying to make every word intentional

connor bedard was the kind of boy you'd notice before he even walked into the room. kind, effortless, golden. the captain of your schools hockey team who had a future brighter than his crooked smile, an A always gracing the corner of his papers even when he'd rush and barely hand them in on time. girls flocked to him like moths to a spotlight, charmed by his ability to remember any face with a smile. he never chased attention, it followed him like it didn't know how to exist elsewhere. connor was the kind of boy people would orbit, like he had a gravity that'd pull the whole world in.

you were the opposite. quiet, thoughtful, easy to miss. it's not like you were unpopular; just invisible by choice. but that was the way you liked it. comfortable in sitting in the front row in class, actually having to try hard to get good grades. you were content with being a wallflower; you didn't want the spotlight, it was too loud, too bright.

yet somehow, you and connor work. no one really gets it, to be frank you don't either, really. how could connor be so close with someone like you? you've heard the whispers and assumptions. but they don't see the late night phone calls, the way he always saves a seat for you even though there's thirty people crowding him. they don't hear how his voice softens when he talks to you. you were the steady beat to all the noise in his life—the quiet he never realized he needed.

and that was just it.

you were always a constant for him, he needed you more than he realized. when the pressure got to be too much, when his relationships failed, when he needed silence; it was you.

but you? you didn't get an escape from anything, loving him gave you nothing but silence in return and a front row seat to a life that would never be yours.

all of your time goes to watching him shine so bright that you forget what it's like to be looked at. it was embarrassing how you craved his attention, how you yearned to be seen in the same way that you see him.

but whenever he'd ask you with soft eyes and a gentle voice, "are you okay?" you'd have to tell him that you're fine. maybe you didn't want to burden him and scare him away; because who were you without him?

you don't need—want—the world to notice you.

you just want him to.

you had gone to every single one of his games, and yesterday was no exception. it was the finals, and your voice had gone raw from how loud you were cheering for him from the sidelines just like you always did.

you watched the way the whole team gravitated towards him after he shot the overtime winning goal, his smile brighter than you had ever seen before.

you sat on a bench waiting for him outside the change rooms, twiddling your fingers in boredom as you waited to congratulate him.

your head turned when you heard him. "alright, see you guys in a bit." an easy grin on his face with his bag slung over his shoulder and stick in hand.

his eyes twinkled when he saw you.

"i knew you'd come, couldn't have done it without you." he said as you stepped into his hug, heart still full with pride and excitement. though you weren't really sure if he meant it—if he really couldn't have done it without you.

him and the team were planning to go out for dinner to celebrate, so the two of you sat in your car for a bit to catch up until the moment would take him away from you.

"so uh..." you started, glancing at him as he typed something into his phone. "you're still coming tomorrow right?" you asked and his head turned to you before his eyes did, a distracted "hm?" slipping out

"tomorrow," you reaffirmed, "you said you'd come." you had a scholarship interview and connor had agreed last week that he'd help you practice, talk you through it, calm your nerves.

"oh yeah," he smiled gently, "of course i'll be there."

you nodded, not saying anything more.

you wish you hadn't believed him yesterday.

it was 3:08, your interview at 3:30. you sat on a bench outside the school, fingers fidgeting with the hems of your sweater as you tried not to look like you were waiting for someone, when that was exactly what you were doing.

the sun was a little too bright, the collar of your shirt too tight.

it was 3:20.

you finally stood up, slinging your backpack over your shoulder and walking into the school. you can't even feel sad, you'd just have to go through another thing alone.

the interview had gone well, and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding as you walked out the doors. you glanced at your phone to see a text from connor.

con🤓☝️ shit. i'm so so sorry y/n. i was with some of the guys, everything's been crazy since yesterday. i feel awful. did it go okay?

delivered 4:02pm

you didn't respond. what was there to say?

he spotted you the next day, approaching as you shoved some books into your locker, frustration prickling at your skin in the way they didn't quite fit.

"there she is!" he said with that same crooked smile.

"you forgot." your voice flat as you took one of your books out, giving up on trying to make it fit.

his smile faltered. "i know. i said i was sorry-"

"i don't need sorry, connor. i needed you." your words caught him off guard and you can see it in his face. the way his features flinched, caught somewhere between guilt, confusion and maybe something like regret.

"i was there for you," your heartbeat increased, you hated confrontation. "at your game, at every game. whenever you need anything, i'm there."

"i know," he whispered. "you always are."

"so when is it my turn?" your scoffed, voice tired. "you forgot, you always forget."

he opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. no excuses, no promises. just silence.

his stomach twists at the way your eyes become glossy and your brows scrunch as you say, "you only notice me when i'm gone," you murmur.

you turned away. "and that's the problem."

because since when did the sun ever revolve around anything?

©cyberhughes; do not copy, translate or repost my work without permission.

[erwinsvow]

non sexual dominance just really tickles my pickle. do you have any thoughts about sammy and his acts of non sexual dominance (or. yknow. vaguely kind-of sexual dominance)? little things he does around the house or while out and about?

definitely not projecting. i am NOT begging our lord above to give me a spouse who brushes + dries my hair after i shower and orders for me at restaurants. that would be weird. nuh uh. not me.

do i have any thoughts. i have so many thoughts the worms started exploding one by one. mister sammy bryant and his urge to take care of you because it's very clear to him how much you take care of him. for someone who is so used to being let down / hurt / disappointed all the time to not having to feel that way around you or about you. it is like a fresh breath of air. and also at the same time very unknown to him?? if that makes sense?? not being used to the way you can almost read his mind (like when he's had a bad day and you don't talk much but come give him a long hug and a cold beer) or how you take care of things for him when he's got a lot on his mind (the doctor's appointment that he needed to reschedule a month ago, remembering to add something to the grocery list that would have ruined dinner plans when he was going to cook). it's nothing crazy, nothing extreme. but you fill in gaps he didn't realize were empty so then when he looks at you he just kind of has this urge to take care of you. to make sure you're okay. seen and heard and taken care of without having to ask.

so for our little shy reader future wifey in particular! it's extremely blurry lines between vaguely kind-of sexual and kind of not. he senses your anxiety before you can feel it, and he eliminates it where he can. like when you worry, for example, that people are mad at you. he doesn't know why it happens, but he knows it will happen, so he just naturally takes over. orders for you at restaurants so you don't have to talk to the waiter. or how he memorizes your coffee order, so he can just step up and order for both of you while you practice saying the words in your head a couple of times before realizing you don't have to! because sammy ordered for you. that's such a good example of him taking care of you in a way that makes you tingly all over. but one step further. he always does that headlock thing that guys do. just waiting in line with you at the coffee shop or waiting to be seated somewhere or in the checkout line at the grocery store. and you just feel his huge arm around your neck, engulfing your shoulder and clavicle, fingertips on your other shoulder. and just stays like that for ages. it's not even inherently sexual he's not choking you out or anything but it's just the motion. the way people look and know, oh obviously they're together. how when it's time to move the hand moves to swing across your back or rest firmly on your waist. just very touchy feely in public but not in any way that is too pda-y or gross or intrusive. just casual dominance in the grocery store. does it so he easily yank you out of the way if there's someone getting through behind you. stares at whoever it is while you're pressed against his chest until they leave the aisle. it's also the "kid" nickname being dropped in every possible situation. right after the aisle clears he goes "gotta watch out, kid" but you know you don't actually have to, because he always will. for you.

i feel like when he comes home from work he goes straight to you for a hug. you do this thing where you loosen his tie and unbutton the first button for him and you two just kinda stay like that for a bit until you tell him dinner's almost ready but he doesn't budge for like five minutes. stays there staring at you and takes your jaw in his hand and manhandles you against the counter and gives you a real kiss before going "smells good. thanks sweetheart." just nsaifjbask i don't know what it is about the domesticity with sammy but it gives me butterflies because you know all he's wanted in such a long time is a good girl to come home to and he finally has it and he does a little thing like kiss you really hard for too long and leave you a little breathless and your jaw tingling where he held you and it's his way of telling you that he's happy you're there in not so many words. or how he starts cleaning up after dinner and swats your hand away when you try to help and tells you to go get ready for bed. that he can take care of it. or the c'mere, sweetheart when you two get into bed. just imagined freshly showered sammy with wet curls smelling so good. he's shirtless, just in a pair of plaid pajama pants and you're wearing one of his plain white shirts to bed, putting on lotion or something and he just says that and your brain turns off. he says it every night but it never fails to make your head devoid of any thoughts. you comply, obviously, and he just positions you on his chest or pushes your back against him and keeps a firm hand on your waist and maybe you just stay like that for a little until your eyes get droopy. but you wanna keep talking but as soon as you hear the "go to bed, kid" or the "goodnight, sweetheart" you're out like a light.

even around the house. let's say you're not married. flip between your two apartments (let's pretend it is cervine. across the hall neighbors. jesus almighty.) and when he's over—which is a lot of the time—he has this habit of fixing things. things that you wouldn't know how to fix. ridding you of the headache from squeaky cabinet doors and the closet door that won't close all the way. he'd seen you struggle with it before bed once and the next day he comes over after work and gives you your hug and your kiss and then goes straight into your bedroom to fix it. one of the lightbulbs in your bathroom went out a while ago. you don't have a ladder but even if you did, you couldn't figure out what kind of bulb it needed and you didn't wanna go to the hardware store so you just have a two-thirds lit bathroom. until one day you don't anymore. that's just like boyfriend helping you stuff but there's something so feral behind the flesh of it... like there's not a problem in the world sammy can't fix for you. and you like that realization a lot but what's worse is how much sammy likes it. like when you get on your knees to thank him for fixing something extremely stupid. and he stutters out "it-it's nothin' kid, you d-don't have to-" but you interrupt him with "but i want to." you said he brushes you hair and i raise you one more. carries you into the shower and loves to wash your hair for you, literally can't get enough of it. especially when he knows you've had a bad day and you just need to not think for a little bit. tells you to relax against him and he uses his strength to hold you up, you focus on the feeling of his fingertips on your scalp and how warm the water is and how warm sammy is until you're nearly asleep against him. it's not just how caretaking it is. it's not about calling him dad (which you do but this is besides the point) or relying on him or anything else. it's just blind trust and comfort and despite the jokes he cracks and how he teases you when you're alone. how he says (like mango said!!) that this city could eat you alive and spit you out like a seed, that despite everything else and whatever happens at work and however stupid or dependent you might seem that you're not. that he loves you just as much as you love him. that he depends on you just as much as you depend on him and that you both want each other so badly it comes out in every little action throughout the day.

[shouyuus]

Kenma, 2:45 am

writing/warmup game closed!

kenma; 2:45am --

he's always been a late sleeper, or -- a very, very early one -- you meet him in a midnight lobby, through pixels on a screen, on opposite ends of the world.

"isn't it like... super late for you?" you ask

"or it could just be super early," kenma responds.

"ugh, loser," you tease, rolling your eyes, even though you know he can't see you; somehow, you think he knows about the lopsided grin spreading across your face.

"mm," he hums, not an agreement but not a rejection either, even as the pair of you get dropped into a game with three other strangers, one of whom immediately calls you a "dumb bitch" the moment he hears your voice.

kenma stays quiet, but there's a distinct edge to the way he plays. it's pointed, savage -- and when he speaks, it's in low, quick words. when the game ends, the guy is gushing because he hadn't realized he was playing with the kodzuken --

"for the first and last time," kenma says coolly. the guy goes quiet, before chuckling and attempting a joke about the randomness of getting dropped into a game together.

"no," kenma cuts in, his words stiff, "i prefer not to team with misogynists -- and especially not incompetent ones."

he exits the team and pings you on dm's to ask if you're okay. you grin, joining voice in a private channel.

"wow, white knight much?" you ask, though your cheeks are a little warm.

"sorry, i know you don't need someone to fight your battles for you -- even in game, you're pretty damn good --" he says, his words coming faster now.

"thanks," you reply, cheeky even as you tug at the ends of your hair, reveling in the tenderness note to his voice as he continues to ramble.

"i just... i hate guys who judge people based on gender or looks or whatever. and i really hate guys who are shitty at the game and prejudiced."

you laugh, nodding along, "he was pretty bad."

kenma sighs, "he really was."

you glance at the time, "you should get some sleep. didn't you say you're meeting high school friends tomorrow for some volleyball?"

"yeah... guess i should."

you purse your lips, waiting.

"do you..." he pauses, clears his throat, "uh -- are you playing again tomorrow?"

you bite back a giggle, "maybe... if i can find someone good enough to keep up."

right after the line drops, you see a notification pop up --

kodzuken has sent you a friend request!

[urinarythreatinfection]

Me..?

In which the old men (Fujitora, Brook, Jinbe) find out you (top male reader) think they're sexy. Suggestive. 1646 words total.

Fujitora

Fujitora walks around the marine base, feeling stressed once again about the warlords. He’d argued once again about them to Akainu, and once again was shot down. “What a ridiculous problem, to be relying on pirates that we’re supposed to be punishing while they hurt the civilians we’re meant to be protecting.” He grumbles angrily, stopping when he hears voices and clanging of equipment. He’s where the new marines train. This is a good opportunity, these are the future of the marines. If they’re doing well there’s hope for this corrupt system. Before he walks to them he remembers something. ‘I did see one the other day but he looked nervous.. I am an admiral, I should keep myself hidden so as to not disturb them.’ However, contrary to his beliefs, they aren’t just training.

“So, Captain Tashigi.” One of them mentions while dueling another.

“Right!?” The second blocks an attack. “She’s totally cool but with the cute side is out of this world. I’d imagine her squirming, kissing her up and down.”

“If we’re getting that kinky I still think Vice Admiral Hina is the best, her mature sexy charm is great. The kind of girl that would step on you for getting hard. Ahh i’d do anything to be in her unit~” The third one sighs dreamily while lifting weights.

‘This is rather inappropriate talk, but I suppose they are young… At least they’re still moving.’ He may not be able to see but he can sense their movements. The group turns to you.

“What about you?” They all ask and you hesitate.

“Uh well, it’s a guy.” You’re anxious but that seemingly makes them more interested.

‘It’s good to see diversity.’ Fujitora thinks to himself, pleased.

“Really!? Then who is it? Captain Smoker is cool, is that your kinda guy? He could be dominating.” The second one suggests while the other two nod.

“I’m a top, though.” You clarify and they look confused, not being able to think of a higher up that could ever be bottomed.

“Whaat, really?”

“All the guys here are rough though. Who is it?” You hesitate more but eventually answer.

“Uh.. Admiral.. Fujitora.” All of them freeze.. including said Admiral Fujitora hiding less than 20 feet away.

“WHAT!?” One screams and you cover his mouth.

“Dude shut up you’re gonna get us running laps.” You panic. Fujitora slowly starts to realize your voice is familiar. You’re the newbie that he met the other day, the one that looked nervous. He had assumed it was because he was too high up as an admiral it was scaring you. When he thinks back you did look more.. shy than scared.

“What is even the appeal of that? He’s huge and not cute at all, plus he’s old and wrinkly.”

‘They don’t have to be that rude…’ He feels a little hurt now.

“I think he’s cute.” Before another guy can scream you cover his mouth. “Hear me out!” You clear your throat. “He’s got this vibe that’s so.. untouchable. Like even thinking sinful thoughts of him will get lightning shooting down at you. That sort of taboo feeling is hot.. plus I think he’s sexy. Sure he’s old but he’s handsome.”

“You’re a top though.. what about him is.. ugh..” In a way he’s also wondering that. Untouchable, taboo, is that true? Such an odd way to put it.

“I like that he’s tall, a tall person is hot to fuck since you can easily access their chest, there’s so much to grab. Plus being ridden is hot since you’ve got that weight on you.”

‘Sexual very quickly..’

“Plus he can be cute. He’s always wearing that long sweater turtleneck thing and kimono, when I think about slowly slipping it off or sliding my hand underneath while he’s nervous it-” You’re interrupted by a hand over your mouth.

“Okay stop talking.” A guy quickly interrupts you, turning pale and nauseous at the imagery while Fujitora’s jaw drops. “Please.”

“I thought we were giving out wants, why am I the weird one!?” You pull the hand off and the guy shakes his head slowly.

“Not weird.. just.. ugh.. well none of us have to be worried about you with tastes like that.”

“Still it’s...” Your voice gets quieter as the admiral turns and starts to quickly leave.

“I’ve heard something I was not supposed to.” He mumbles to himself, face red.

Brook

“I was quite popular, yes. Mostly with women, but there were men too.” Brook chats to you about his life back when he was human, the two of you sitting at the aquarium bar. “Though none of that has happened now.”

“Weren’t you popular as a star during the two years, though?” You remember seeing girls swoon and scream his name when he would get on stage.

“I was. But not for my looks. Women tend to be more romantic so it’s easy to charm them if you’re a true gentleman. For men, well, they’re visual creatures.” He leans back against the couch, throwing his head back. “Though that also includes me yohohoho!”

“I think you’re still handsome.” He stops laughing and looks at you.

“You’re very kind (Y/n)-san.” His voice is soft. “A romantic man, are you?”

“No, that’s not it. I mean, you’re.. hot.” Brook tilts his head.

“Oh? My bones?”

“I know you’re just bones but you’re elegant, and when you go rock and roll you’re.. sexy.” It’s hard to explain, especially when you’re trying to censor yourself.

“You’re attracted to bones, a bit concerning for you.” He points out and you sigh. “But I can’t say that doesn’t make me happy, even if it makes no sense.”

“I think it does, I think you’re lewd.” You mumble and he jolts.

“Eh?” He stares at you. “Seriously?”

“Did I say too much?” He quickly shakes his head and motions for you to continue. “You know, like, lewd. The way you pose and the way your afro frames your skull. That one time you forgot to button your pants and they slid down to show a bit of pelvis, it was sexy. It makes someone want to grab you, move you around.”

“EH!?” He stares at you in shock, his jaw dropped. If he had eyes they’d be twinkling.

“Okay i went too far that time.” Brook’s mind runs at a million miles an hour. you actually think that? Is his skeleton lewd? Do you mean he’s thinking when you mentioned “moving him around”?

“Yohoho!? Your youth is shocking (Y/n)-san!” He puts his hands on his cheekbones, shining from the, frankly sexual, compliments. “I’m blushing! Though I have no skin or blood to blush with!” He stands up to spin around. He’s happy. You want to see him happier, though you’re embarrassed.

“I don’t think I’m the only one, you’ve got charm. You could give plenty of guys bone-rs” You nervously joke, immediately regretting it. He doesn’t seem deterred though, instead getting close to you.

“Including you?” He asks and you falter.

“N-No, uh..” Your eyes swim around, trying to find a way out of this. Brook can sense your panic, it means you have.

“Yoho!” He jumps up, hitting the ceiling.

Jinbe

You sip tea, speaking about different topics with Jinbe while other crewmates are out to explore the island. He puts down his teacup and sighs with contentment. “I do appreciate you staying to speak with me but did you not want to go out with the others?”

“Ah.. well.. I mean islands are everywhere, right?” You did want to explore, but this is a prime chance to be alone with Jinbe.

“You seemed rather excited to go though, you don’t need to stay with me if you think I’m going to be lonely. You should be with young men your age.” He clears his throat. “Especially since you seemed rather.. frustrated this morning.” You flinch, he’s talking about when you unknowingly walked out of the cabin with morning wood. “You could find a man here to help with that.”

“That’s…”

“No need to be shy about it.” He says that but he also looks nervous, he must be holding it in so he can help you. “It’s a natural thing.” You still look tense and he tries to joke to lighten the mood. “Being with an old man like me won’t help you!” He lets out a hearty laugh.

“Well I wouldn’t say that..” You mumble before you can stop yourself and he pauses. “Ah.. er..” You messed up,

“So you go the meditation route, that is a way to calm it.” but he misunderstood. You should be glad, ecstatic even, but the fact he went to that instead of you finding him attractive is ticking you off.

“I could’ve meant that you’re attractive.” You lightly suggest and he hums.

“Could’ve been, but I’m not the typical want of someone.” He pats his belly to make a point.

“Are you saying you’re not attractive?” You’re getting more ticked off now.

“Well I’m not insecure but especially for your age you’d be-”

“You’re sexy though.” You interrupt him with a firm statement.

…

“Me?” He says after a pause. His cheeks are slightly tinted red, something like “handsome” would’ve been nice but being called sexy is shocking. He laughs again. “Well I didn’t expect that.”

“You are! You’ve got a charm and a nice body. I think it’s super sexy. I could.. I mean.. uh, well I won’t go into it but you’re definitely very tempting.” You’re adamant even if your confidence is starting to wear off, trying not to go overboard. He does get the hint though, and that hint quickens his heart. He puts his cup to his mouth, suddenly looking a bit shy.

“You’ve got interesting tastes then.” Now the both of you are flustered. “Thank you.”

I know its not four and i usually post then but im too excited and i mean its only an houe difference so does it really matter :p. Enjoy tho :D