#and unfortunately thinking about it again has made me realize. oh this is why i am the way i am at work huh

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt behind the cut; “the one where Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“It usually involves taking care of the sub for a little while–like if they need to recover or if the Dom needs something to calm themselves down doing, for example–but there’s other ways and reasons to do it,” Tim says, stroking his hair just a little bit more carefully as Kon once again tries and fails to figure out what the fuck he’s feeling right now. “That’s just what most people think of first when it comes up. Supposed to just make it easier for everyone to come up and level out, basically.” 

Tim’s been petting him all this time, Kon realizes, biting the inside of his lip again. 

And then he realizes–Tim’s also been the only one talking to him about this. Like, the “polite intel-collecting/light interrogation” kind of talking, but definitely only Tim doing it. So, like–Tim thinks this is something to be careful about talking about, and apparently so does Bernard. 

. . . weird, Kon thinks, ducking his head just enough to hide his mouth against his folded forearms as he bites his lip outright, and doesn’t know how he feels about that either. 

He thinks maybe they’re doing that–“gentle” thing again, though, even though they’re not even actually fucking around right now. Like . . . like just being in bed together at all is reason enough to do it, or something. Like it’s just–like it matters enough to keep doing it either way. 

Kon knows exactly how he feels about that, but that’d be a lot more than just “mortifying” to admit. 

“Um . . . sorry,” he says, half-worrying about what Tim means by needing to calm himself down. The times he’s tried to Dom made him all anxious and nervy and filled his head up with even more useless circling thoughts than usual, so like . . . does that happen to Tim too? It hadn’t seemed like it was, but . . . “Should I be–doing something for you, you mean? Because I can–” 

A flash of stress flickers across Tim’s face, and Kon cuts himself off and feels a little–stupid, maybe, like he’s said something wrong or just messed up something obvious or . . . 

He bites his lip harder and a weird little–reflex, almost, has him glancing towards Bernard for . . . he’s not even sure why, just . . . Bernard would know what Tim needs right now, wouldn’t he? Like–he’d have to, right? 

Bernard’s still just standing by the nightstand and the breakfast tray, but the moment Kon looks at him he gives an easy shrug, scoops up the middle plate, and manages to neatly deposit it in Tim’s lap even as he lays down on his other side, stretched out on his own stomach and propped up on his elbows. Kon feels–something, kind of, and thinks about how that puts them both kinda . . . parallel to each other, kinda. Just . . . mirrored, a little, both lying on either side of Tim where he’s sitting against the headboard. 

That’s . . . kinda something he feels something about, yeah, but it’s another one of those “something”s he can’t seem to really pin down, because everything he thinks it’s making him feel is, like . . . not actually something that makes sense for him to be feeling. 

Kryptonite, he remembers abruptly. Right. So like . . . that. That’s probably . . . why he thinks he’s feeling . . . that kind of thing. Like–how Kara was saying, and all. 

Right? 

“Yes, you should be lying right there and letting Tim fuss over you for a while,” Bernard informs him matter-of-factly, crossing his ankles behind himself and resting his chin in one hand. “He likes doing the fussing. Though personally post-subbing is literally the only time I don’t wanna cuddle, I just wanna eat the fridge and pass the fuck out on the couch, so it’s really always been an unfortunate waste of the opportunity for me and also, like, not Tim’s favorite way to spend a scene’s afterglow either.” 

“Oh,” Kon says, mildly bemused by the idea of passing out on the couch after subbing instead of cuddling up with someone in bed. Like–wanting to pass out on the couch, at least. Like, that is just very much not how he feels after subbing, is all. But, well . . . if that’s all Tim needs from him . . . like, it’s not exactly an imposition or anything. “Seriously? Just . . . the fussing?” 

“Seriously,” Bernard confirms with a nod without bothering to lift his chin from his hand. “He literally always wants to do the fussing. Like he is definitely the ‘needs to calm down’ guy, and also the ‘subtly make sure he didn’t accidentally hurt or upset you when you were too high on endorphins to communicate it’ guy.” 

“Yeah, sounds like Tim,” Kon says, lifting his own head a little more again just to spare Tim a wry look. “‘Shit, that went way too well, lemme get all Bat-paranoia up in here and overanalyze the whole thing’.” 

“Better safe than sorry,” Tim says, looking a little wry himself, and Kon–like, yeah, he’s teasing the guy about it, because when would he not take the opportunity to give Tim shit, but he still definitely feels some shit about the fact that Tim would bother worrying about him like that. Like–the “gentle” thing again, he guesses. It’s just . . . not something he needs, and obviously Tim knows that, because a) invulnerable and b) they’re literally just fucking around for the weekend, it’s not like they’re doing anything serious or whatever, but the fact that Tim’s bothering to do it anyway is just . . . yeah. 

He just–doesn’t have to, is all. He doesn’t have to, but he still is. Still is, and still told his boyfriend to be. 

“You are a total Bat, but fuck if I'm gonna complain about scorin’ some free attention,” Kon tells him with a teasing smirk. Even if “getting attention” wasn’t half the foundation of his core personality, getting Tim’s attention would still be a goddamn treat, any time. Like–it always is, seriously. So yeah, Kon is in no way above indulging in a little extra of it. As far as doing something for Tim, it’s basically the easiest thing the guy could possibly ask for. Normally Kon’d say it was the best thing the guy could possibly ask for, even, but given the radioactive gay space rock currently influencing his tastes and his preferred flavor of his favorite pastime, any current contenders for the “best” thing Tim could possibly ask for would definitely need the other’s dick to get involved again. 

Like. To the fucking hilt levels of involved, specifically. 

Definitely to the fucking hilt. 

“Jesus, that noise is fucking adorable,” Bernard mutters under his breath, which is the only reason Kon notices himself purring again, which–oh. That wasn’t, like . . . on purpose or anything. Generally he tries to avoid any of the “don’t sound entirely human” vocal tics, though admittedly he probably does purr the most. Just, like . . . usually he decides to let himself do it, is all. 

“Vegas party favors don’t do ‘adorable’, man,” he hums around another purr, because . . . well, Bernard seems like he’s kinda into the purring, so it’s not like he’s gotta, like–stop, or whatever. And Tim’s heard him do it before and not gotten weirded-out, so . . . so it’s whatever, yeah. No big deal or anything. 

Anyway, it feels nice to, sometimes. Especially when he feels like this does it feel nice to. 

And, like, extra-especially when Tim’s still petting his hair for it. 

“I think I can literally feel the bed vibrating a little,” Bernard says, looking low-key delighted about it. “Definitely tell me how I earn this level of purring while TTK-cuddling, because that is very much my new goal for this long weekend.” 

“Mmm, s’secret lore, man,” Kon hums, letting his eyes close as he settles in a little heavier against the bed with a pleased little buzzing feeling in his gut and along his skin. “You gotta grind enough hours to level up and earn it.” 

“I will grind on you for all the hours that standard-build human stamina can handle and Konami code your ass if I gotta,” Bernard swears, and Kon laughs into his arms. Why is this dude so funny, Jesus. 

“That sounds kinda fun, what’d that involve?” he muses speculatively. 

“Some very specific and very decisive button-pressing, pretty much,” Bernard says, and Kon laughs again. “Maybe some converter cables and a rumble controller.” 

Kon sniggers. Goddammit, the bastard really is so funny, what the fuck. 

“I think the gay space rock’s done plenty of converting, but if you really wanna plug something in . . .” he hums, making a point of stretching out a bit more against the mattress, and accidentally purrs a little deeper without meaning to. 

“Desperately, yes,” Bernard says, sounding very feeling about it. So like, that’s another nice little bit of flattery. “Hey babe, how long do I have to wait to plug and play with your bestie? Like, ballpark it for us.” 

“Maybe eat breakfast first?” Tim suggests wryly. “I hear the chef makes pretty good waffles.” 

“Honestly they’re pretty mid compared to the cake that’s currently taking up a truly impressive amount of real estate in this bed,” Bernard replies frankly, making a point of reaching across Tim’s legs to grab Kon’s ass and give it a pointedly appreciative jiggle as he says “cake”, and Kon laughs helplessly into his arms. But, like–also tilts his ass up into said hand, obviously. Like, just a little. Bernard’s nice enough to give it an appreciative squeeze in response to that, so Kon figures that’s a win. “On that note, Tim, your bed is just not worthy of this long weekend, you really should upgrade. Like, no rush or anything, just maybe by Valentine’s Day. Your birthday at the latest.” 

At this rate, Kon isn’t gonna manage to stop laughing long enough to eat a single damn waffle.

[j-esbian]

my teacher in middle school really liked to give us multi-part assignments that branched across subjects, and approximately once a year i remember the one where we were assigned a Maxim and had to do several exercises related to it.

one part was a basic research and reading comprehension exercise, where we had to figure out what the original source was, hunt it down, and figure out what the quote meant in the context in which it appears—except i could not find any kind of source for mine. based on the other quotes I found from this dude, it definitely sounded like something he would have said!! unfortunately, there was no record he had ever said this exact thing, and i felt like i was losing my mind

eventually, i went to my teacher and told her i was having a problem and asked if she could give me a hint. she just let me use someone else's sentence for that one leg of the project. but to this day i still wonder how the hell she even found it and where it came from, because it seems like it literally does not exist outside of the powerpoint she made to introduce the project.

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Atsushi’s first time doing breeding?

I feel like he’s be really nervous to do it, but he’d wanan do his best for his living bf and he ends up loving it so MUCH he goes into sub space.

Atsushi deserves some loving, my boy is understated in his own show ;(

♦️

Pairings: Atsushi x male reader

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Atsushi, breeding kink, overstimulation, praise, fluffy aftercare

“O-ok, you can…put it in now.” Atsushi blushes, intentionally hiding his face so that you won't see how nervous he is. Unfortunately for him, the rest of his body betrays that secrecy.

His fingers curl, gripping the sheets tighter as your fingers slide out of his wet hole, replacing them with your dick. The muscles in his back tighten, causing Atsushi to hunch over while your cock fills up his pretty hole. It's always so tight when you first enter him—no amount of fingering or orgasms do much about that. Not that that's a bad thing though.

“Don't hurt yourself, Atsushi — relax those shoulders, just like that.” you say, rubbing the tense areas of his back, all as the head of your cock pushes into his sweet spot again and again. You're not moving very fast, but the girth of your cock alone is enough to make Atsushi sweat. His knuckles have turned white from all of his sheet-gripping.

Soon enough, you ease into a faster, steady pace. Your lips brush against the back of Atsushi's neck and he shudders, feeling vulnerable under the shadow of your body. “My sweet boy, why are you so quiet today? Where are those beautiful moans of yours?” Truthfully, he was embarrassed to let any noise escape, too focused on this brand new experience to realize he'd been holding his lip between his teeth.

Sharper, more powerful thrusts finally get Atsushi to gasp; opening the door for his lovely moans and whimpers. You squeeze your partner's hips, hitting so deep in his guts that Atsushi swears you're about to ram your cock straight through his body– “Baby~ Baby, baby, baby… that little ass is going to milk me dry if you keep clenching like that- gnngh!”

As if his body knew what he wanted more than he could realize in this moment, Atsushi's hole clenched again, provoking you to fuck him harder — this is the perfect moment to try out that thing you agreed to.

“Oh fuck–!! Y'feel that, Atsushi? Feel how heavy my balls are? That's all for you, sweetheart~” you groaned into his ear, still curled around his body while your balls slap against his. Every thrust brings him closer to being filled by your warm cum, just like he asked before. “Need to- breed you, baby…please let me breed you!”

A quick 'yes' is all Atsushi can manage with his trembling voice, unable to think straight when your dick is hitting so deep and pounding his puffy hole until it becomes sore. Your warmth enters him, causing airy moans to spill out of his mouth while his eyes roll back. “Cumming-! B-breeding…my pretty boy!!” you manage through clenched teeth. You try to pull him closer still, pressing as far as humanly possible inside, while your cock pumps the last bit of cum into Atsushi's ass.

—

Beads of sweat build up on his forehead, and Atsushi's legs won't stop shaking, even though you haven't moved for a minute. His upper body falls forward gently, thanks to you, and this causes his back to arch deeply. All of that heavy breathing through his mouth has made Atsushi's throat dry, and his next words come out hoarse: “You…you really did it…” he wheezes, fingers limply resting on the sheets. “You…bred me-”

A chuckle falls from your lips, followed by a groan when you adjust yourself slightly and accidentally push on Atsushi's prostate again, making him moan so loud that you worry about neighbors hearing it.

Atsushi's brain turns to mush after that — corrupting whatever dignity and innocence he had left for the night, turning him into a babbling whore as he croaks; “Again…breed me again! Keep pounding me…please?”

And you'd be a fool not to take him up on that. You smirk at your partner's change in attitude, groping his ass before you nearly pull your cock out, only to push it back inside along with the cum still clinging to your shaft. “Oho, did my little kitty enjoy it that much?” a prolonged whine answers your question.

“You're so good for me, lovely. I'm gonna fill you up again, yeah?” you hum between every kiss pressed against Atsushi's upper back. “Just say the word, and we'll go again and again—as many times as my baby wants~”

Atsushi gulps, his body more sensitive than before, now keenly aware of the shape of your cock as it stretches his insides and leaves a bulge in his tummy. A dopey grin is plastered on his face while you snap your hips against his — your voice sings sweetly every praise you can imagine, every drag of your cock against his insides brings you that much closer to breeding him again.

And his own pretty voice eggs you on—to fuck him a little deeper, pounding his trembling body into the mattress so hard that Atsushi watches stars dance in front of him. His eyes blow wide open, then flutter as you cum inside of him once more.

Your breath is hot on his flushed skin, but your lover really doesn't mind, not when you, quite literally, fucked his brains out. Atsushi is limp and only half coherent when you eventually pull out, letting you roll him over and position him a bit more comfortably so that you can wipe his body down.

For the rest of the night, he's your little cuddle buddy who curls up against you, thanking you for being so good to him and making him feel good during this new experience.

[rc-writes]

𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 | 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢

pairings: spencer reid x bau!reader

warnings: reader has a headache due to accidentally missing lunch

a/n: one more little blurb i've written due to my criminal minds rewatch journey! as of now i unfortunately have no other little blurbs written so i don't want you guys to think this is me suddenly being active a lot again. like i said in my penelope blurb i make no promises of me posting regularly again, but i definitely want/hope to write more! anyways, this blurb is completely inspired by me forgetting food exists for half a day a few weeks ago and getting a massive headache due to it :/ advice of the day kids, eating is important! lol

You and JJ had been on reading files duty for the day which meant being held up in the tiny room the local police station had set up for the team. Usually, it was Garcia who was in charge of digging through the files for potential suspects, but the station was severely behind on digitizing their files so manual reading was what had to be done.

As the day went on you began to have the world's most annoying headache. It wasn't too debilitating that you couldn't push through it to get through the last few files however, so you continued your reading. That was until you also began to feel a wave of exhaustion wash over you suddenly.

The most you had done all day was walk from one side of the table to the evidence board across the small room, so you weren't sure why you were suddenly on the verge of nodding off. If you were out conducting interviews or going over the crime scenes like you usually did, then maybe that would explain some tiredness, but that wasn't the case today.

"Hey, we're back!" Spencer's sudden voice filling the room made you jump out of your thoughts.

"Hi." You replied back with a soft smile, trying to mask the tiredness. "We managed to narrow the suspect pool to five people."

"Garcia is already on searching for anything that might not be in any of these files." JJ added from her spot at the table.

"Hard to believe anything is not in all these files." You joked, laughing. Mid-laugh your voice seemed to falter, the headache deciding to grow stronger at the sudden higher noise level of the room. You tried to mask your voice fading by slowly turning to face the board again, trying your best to massage your forehead a little.

"Hey are you alright?" Spencer asked as he walked closer to you.

"Yeah, yeah." You lied, turning to face him. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's just that I noticed your movements seem to be a bit sluggish. Not- not to say that's a problem considering you've been cooped up in here all day. But also, I noticed you're rubbing circles into your forehead which might be a sign of a headache. Which is actually a good thing to do when you have one because researchers say-" Spencer trailed off when he noticed you bringing your hand up again to your forehead. "Sorry, that's not the point. Are you okay?"

"I've been a little tired and have a minor headache. Nothing too bad, don't worry." You admitted, no point in trying to lie anymore. "I'm not sure why though. It's not like I've done much moving around all day, just flipping through piles of paper." You gestured to the table. It was then that you noticed JJ had left you two to be alone. "But I suppose just sitting here all day could be exactly the reason." 

"It is proven that little movement can have just as much effect as too much movement on the body." Spencer agreed. "To add to that, whatever you ate for lunch today could also have an effect as well."

Spencer then began to ramble about the importance of what kind of food you need to eat for which meal, but you didn't hear much as your own thoughts were racing.

A look of slight horror crossed your face. "Oh god, I didn't even realize I skipped lunch completely."

"What?"

"Yeah, I got so caught up in reading over the suspect files that I didn't want to leave when everyone else went to go get something from the break room. Thought I'd wait until I got done reading this one file, but I must have gotten too distracted and completely forgot to ever actually get up."

"Honey, no wonder you're tired and have a headache then." He reached for your hands. "You haven't eaten since we had breakfast together at the hotel." 

You held onto his hands back. "Yeah, and it wasn't exactly a big breakfast either." You both laughed. "I guess a big dinner is in my future then."

Spencer nodded, smiling. His eyes seemed to light up suddenly, you assumed some sort of idea popped into his head. He then immediately headed to the door.

"Where are you going?"

Spencer turned, walking backwards out the room. "To find food! Anything! You need to eat pronto." He bumped into the doorframe before walking completely out the room. From your small frame of vision out the doorway you saw he also nearly bumped into one of the local police officers as he was too focused to notice other people. 

You giggled to yourself at his new sudden mission to find you food. He really would do anything at the drop of a hat for you and you had no idea what you ever did to deserve it. But then you thought about how you'd do the exact same for him and he's said before he didn't deserve someone like you. It truly was a never-ending cycle of caring between you two. 

[the-original-skipps]

|| A Heart Left Behind. || Wind Breaker Reactions ||

*smacks lips* it was getting a little too fluffy around here lol

please read PART 1 first before this one!

CW: angst. mentions of violence, injury, blood, suicide, hallucinations. character death.

: Sakura Haruka. Suo Hayato. Nirei Akihito. Umemiya Hajime. Kaji Ren. Endo Yamato.

"We are sorry to inform you, but the patient has unfortunately passed away."

❥ Sakura could feel his entire world crumbling, with each fragment a piece of you. The voices of the doctor, the people around him fading away like distant noise. His vision blurs, confused; Sakura reaches to lightly brush over his surprisingly wet cheek. Oh, they're tears. The doctor could only look at the poor boy sympathetically, before being jerked forward in surprise. As tears flow endlessly, Sakura grabs a fist full of the doctor's pristine white coat. He shouts in confusion and anger - unbelieving of the words just uttered. You couldn't possibly be gone. You promised that you'd take him to the aquarium next week, you promised him you'd let him taste the cookies you tried to bake. Despite all the promises made you’re gone now; forever out of his reach and it was all his fault. With realization, regrets start bubbling within him as his arms fall limply to his side. Thinking about all the times he could have spent with you. He should have hugged you more, told you that you were truly beautiful and kissed you each time like it was going to be the last. It should have been him. Just as you’ve given him a reason to live, now you’ve gone and taken it with you.

“T-Tell me, how am I supposed to live w-without you...?”

❥ Suo remembers the vivid moment, when the doctor told him the news that changed everything. He remembers smiling and thanking the doctor for trying their best, even though his heart felt like it had just been ripped out and his mind sank into darkness. He also remembers when he stood amongst a sea of blood and bodies as the darkness fully consumed him. Sakura and Nirei look onwards with shock and despair, powerless in trying to stop him. The ones who've hurt you in a state of near death but why didn't he feel satisfied? Only when Nirei screamed that you'd never be happy seeing him like this, does the realization hit. When you've left, you've left a hole in his chest where his heart was supposed to be that could never be filled again. Now, he stands in front of your grave - a bouquet of flowers he arranged personally for you. A bouquet of purple lilies, anemones and white chrysanthemums which symbolizes grief and eternal love. He promises for as long as he still lives, he'll atone for the fact he couldn't save you. When he sees you again, does he still deserve to be hugged like you used to?

"Until we meet again, my love."

❥ Nirei doesn't remember the last time he left his room. A room filled with mountains of rubbish, discarded ramen cups, empty water bottles and other miscellaneous trash and he sits in the middle of it. His precious notebook is forgotten beneath everything. Ever since you died, Nirei couldn't find the passion nor the will to live. Suo, Sakura and all his classmates tried their best to pull him back up but it was all worthless. If it isn't your hand that pulls him back up. Your memory haunts him in this empty room, with each one bringing him to tears - his chest unbearably tight. He rocks himself from side to side as tears flood his eyes, clutching his head in his hands whispering assurances to himself. The weight of your death prevented him from rising, after all it was his fault it happened. Sometimes he swears he could hear you in this very room, belittling him and spitting insults. Most of all blaming him for the reason behind your death. It's unbearable, when will it stop? A thought flashes in his mind that has him briefly smiling. Maybe there is a solution to forever escape from the pain.

"I-If I die, will you forgive me...?"

❥ Umemiya smiles as he looks down at his work. A patch of broccolis growing big and green, he reaches over and lightly touches them. Imagine the look of excitement you'd have at seeing your favorite vegetables. Until a grim thought crosses his mind that sets a frown on his face. You’ve passed away. The memory has his fists clenched and eyes burning in trying to hold back tears that threaten to spill. Only when he hears Hiragi clear his throat from behind him, does Umemiya snap out of his thoughts. Pulling himself together, he brightly smiles at his trusted friend - thanking him for coming but what he says next has Hiragi in utter shock. With his eyes fixed on your favorite vegetables and a sad smile on his face. Umemiya states that he will no longer hold the position of Bofurin's leader and the position will be passed onto Hiragi instead. Shocked and enraged Hiragi pulls Umemiya forward with a fist full of his white shirt, demanding he take back his words but the longer Hiragi stares at his friend he realizes. That the once bright eyes no longer shined, only reflecting emptiness back to him.

"I couldn't protect (Y/N), I can longer be trusted to protect everyone."

❥ Kaji stands, leaning casually against a chain fence with his usual headphones to his ears, a song playing - a blank stare on his face. Enomoto comes running panting with Kusumi following close behind. Enomoto's eyes widen in shock at the scene in front of him. His class leader sitting, his fists bloodied - a spread of unconscious bodies surrounding him. Kaji doesn't even look at his friends, ignoring them as he properly stands - brushing past them to walk away until Enomoto stops him with a hand to his shoulder. As the hand touches Kaji's shoulder, a switch happens - he angrily swats his friend's hand away. Enomoto and Kusumi stood in shock, the look on Kaji's face was the same face he used to have years ago. His usual blue eyes swirling with sadness and rage. A deep emptiness infixed within him. Ever since you died, he no longer knew he was or who to be anymore. Your guiding hand no longer extended towards him. Enomoto tries talk some sense into his friend that what he was doing was wrong but Kaji answers back with only shouts colored in anger. The sudden movement knocks Kaji's headphones from his head. A familiar song played from the device, Enomoto and Kasumi knew it well. It was your favorite song.

"Don't you get it?! T-This is the only way I can feel something!"

❥ Endo stares up into the bright full moon, as he sits on a swing. The deserted playground he's at is quiet, with only the whispers of the wind. He looks to a swing beside him. He can see the ghost of your figure sitting on it, asking him if he could push you. At the vision, a smile creeps upon Endo's face - you look so happy and beautiful calling out to him. Unconsciously, he reaches a hand out towards you, only to brush against nothing. The image of you disappearing like sand to the wind. It often happens, a memory of you attached to everything around him - that's how much he sees you even when you’re gone. He believes that he sees you but only to meet with disappointment and a blank space where you used to be. On nights where he's left to his own thoughts, the image of you becomes clearer as if you were really there. He swears you spoke to him with your usual sweet voice and he happily replied back. He doesn't want to accept that you're gone, his entire being rejecting the notion but deep down inside he knows that you’re truly gone from this world. Even if he knows that they're only illusions created by his own mind, it's the only way he won't succumb to the loneliness of your absence. Maybe one day, when he reaches out to you he’ll actually get to touch your soft skin again. Until then he’ll keep reaching out to you.

"When will you come to see me again, (Y/N)?"

[worstgenerationloser]

Need some fluffy tooth rotting luffy headcanons for Luffy please 🙏 🙏🙏

Fluffy-ish Luffy Headcanons! (x Reader? im superrr tired...)

look at this guy and tell me you dont love him..... (luffy haters DNI!!!)

Luffy is a handful in more ways than one, considering the fact that he has almost no concept of personal space, he can and will be slingshotting himself towards you at record speeds for a hug.

•❀━━•°•°❃°•°•━━━•❃°•°❀

You raise a brow, hearing what you think is the sound of an object shooting through the air, but the question was, what was it? Your eyes dart around the deck, failing to notice a familiar figure on the crows nest descending rapidly.

"Y/N!!"

Oh no.

"Wh- LUFFY?!" You screeched so loud you accidentally caught the attention of an enemy ship.

•❀━━•°•°❃°•°•━━━•❃°•°❀

Chopper was very worried when you seemed to magically appear infront of him with your captain wrapped around you like a snake, and a large knot forming on your forehead from where he collided with you.

Luffy is horrible at lying. You happened to stumble upon this little bit of information by closely observing the way he pursed his lips to the side whenever Sanji asked him where all the food went, resulting in Luffy having one too many knots on his head. Consequently, when he has small things planned for you, he just can't seem to keep his mouth shut, although he seldom tries to shut his trap, he tries for you.

•❀━━•°•°❃°•°•━━━•❃°•°❀

"Luffy? Why can't I go into my quarters?" You questioned, wrapped up in his arms yet again.

"Because... Theres.... A.... Big.... Snake!" Luffy began to sweat profusely, earning a eyebrow raise from you. Was he busted? He hoped not!

"...Really?"

"Uh-Huh! That's right, Y/N! And I definitely didn't ask Sanji to cook you your favorite dish! Also, I guarantee that—" His face goes pale as he clamps his hands over his mouth, eyes widening at the realization he blabbed a little too much, but you just smiled at him.

•❀━━•°•°❃°•°•━━━•❃°•°❀

Although Luffy can hardly stay still most of the time, his insatiable lust for adventure never stops him from mellowing out from time to time when it's just you two. He actually enjoys naps and sleeping alot more if you're there with him, resting his head on your chest, stomach, lap, your shoulder, all over you basically. He snores alot and he always has a little snot bubble coming up... He's so adorable.

Luffy is unapologetically himself, no matter who tries to put him down, he will always get back up. That being said, he often does get a little anxious when things get unpredictable, but his fears can be quelled the second you pop up, like clockwork.

The second you dock on a new island, he will always grab your hand and drag you off with him, no matter how eerie the island seems, he happily trots away with you, leaving the reasonable crew in the dust.

•❀━━•°•°❃°•°•━━━•❃°•°❀

You had zero clue where you had just docked, but there was no port, and zero signs of life. You peered into the dense jungle in the distance, spotting what seemed to be a giant swarm of beetles flying in the distance. Suddenly, with an arm around you, your captain appeared, eyes shimmering in awe at the sheer amount of beetles. If theres one thing you knew about him— He loved beetles.

"Y/N! Let's go catch beetles!"

Without another word, you were shot into the air while Luffy kept his arm coiled around your middle section, unfortunately flying into the swarm of beetles who just so happened to be some odd species that made Luffy break out in hives. Luffy was a knucklehead, but he was your knucklehead.

•❀━━•°•°❃°•°•━━━•❃°•°❀

THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING! i think i might actually rewrite this since its like 1am for me, and my brainis all jumbled, sorry, ik its sorta ass....

[tsukimefuku]

CHAPTER THREE PT. II: DIMINISHED CAPACITY ❀ HIGURUMA SENSEI SERIES

masterlist link | mdni! | oopsie, is that... a special banner? gee I wonder if there's something to see at the end of this chapter, huh?

❀ diminished capacity.

Diminished capacity refers to an individual’s impossibility to form the intent necessary for committing any criminal act, because their capacity to fully comprehend the nature of their actions is impaired. It doesn’t, however, completely exclude their responsibility, and they may be held accountable to a lesser offense.

wc: 5.5K ❀ pairing for the series: professor!higuruma x student!reader

❀ tags and c/w.

non-curse au. college au. slow-burn romcom. professor and college student pre-relationship. internship interviews suck. nobara likes to steal food from people. mentions of hypothetical violent crime. nanami gets pestered by gojo even here. higuruma likes sunflowers. nanami has a sixth sense.

❀ notes etc.

Apologies to any colleagues reading the word “evidence” in place of “proof” and feeling like tackling me with a broom, lol. Also, a huge thanks to everyone who came around for part one, I hope you guys get to enjoy reading this just as much I enjoyed writing it.

Argh… Monday.

Internship hunt was hell. There was no other way to spin that wheel. You knew it’d be incredibly hard, but not this hard.

Mondays were cursed days, but to know that not only cursed, they’d also start with terrible interviews — plural — was not in your bingo card for this week. Between  oh, you just started criminal law I this semester? and we will let you know laid the crumbling sounds of your utmost despair of knowing full well you were in for a ride for those next few days.

Well, if only daydreaming about him could save you.

It didn’t, though.

Unfortunately.

You arrived at the campus cafeteria where you were supposed to meet Nobara. Even on a fairly uncomfortable chair, she slouched nearly enough to slide down onto the ground like a rag doll, and it didn’t take you much to realize these past few days were throwing her through the wringer too.

“You look like death,” you joked as you pulled your chair to sit with her, putting your tuna sandwich and can of soda over the table.

“And you look like… like… hmph,” she scoffed while rolling her eyes and propping herself back up again.

“No snarky comeback? Are you that tired?” 

“Leave me alone,” she replied, and apparently, she really wasn’t in the mood for playful banter. You took a bite out of your sandwich, pondering if you should ask her about it, but she beat you to it. “Why is getting internships this early in college is so damn hard?”

“Apparently, places don’t trust complete newbies or youngsters,” you noted, “and they want someone who has already studied all the necessary subjects prior to hiring. Also, people with prior experience are preferred.” 

“Yet these are internship opportunities! Aren’t interns supposed to be newbies who are going to learn from the experience they’ll get through the internship?” Nobara irritatedly inquired, her implied commentary more a complaint than a question. You nodded.

“Absolutely. It makes no sense, it’s like they’re just trying to hire a junior lawyer with less rights and a lower pay rate,” you churned out through your mouthful of tuna and mayonnaise, “now that I think about it, it’s probably that, actually.” 

“I can’t go back home! I mean, I made it all the way here. If I had to go back I would never get over this. I need some money, and I need some money soon, otherwise this will all just have been a waste of my time. I should just get a part time job already instead of insisting in starting my internship as fast as possible.” 

Nobara covered her face, and she sounded genuinely upset. You paused your munching for a bit, and after washing it all down with a few gulps of soda, you leaned towards her, pulling her hands from her face.

“Hey, Nobara, we’re not letting that happen, okay? Neither me, Maki, Yuuji or Megumi.” you offered in an attempt to comfort her. She let you peel her palms away, and gazed at you in a mixture of frustration and anger, which softly subsided after your comment. You decided to push your luck, just a bit. “We can refugee you in Megumi’s car. We’ll get you a hammer so you can hit passerbies for shits and giggles to let some collegiate steam out.” 

Consternated, she shook your hands off of her while you chuckled. She made her best effort to still look pissed, but you noticed a tiny smile forming on the edges of her mouth.

“That’s a shit plan, but I’ll take you up on that hammer offer,” she said, and you smiled at her, a gesture she finally reciprocated.

“I’d expect no less from you. So, tell me, in which area are you looking for internships? Fashion law?” 

“Nope, entertainment.” Nobara picked your half eaten sandwich in her hands and took a bite before you could protest. “Maki had told me it was easier to get internships in entertainment law to garner some experience for a future in fashion law, but honestly? I’m skeptical now.” 

“There might be some openings soon. Have you tried Professor Gojo’s firm? It’s the same as Professor Nanami’s, isn’t it? I mean, that giant firm with dozens of departments and that nearly every teacher at our college seems to work for.” You stretched your hand to get your sandwich back, but she slapped you away. “Hey!” 

“I need it more than you, I’m sad!” 

“I’m sad too! I had four terrible internship interviews today, give it back!” 

You both entered a silly slapping match, and the few people walking past the table would look away nervously in fear of getting dragged into the middle of whatever war was going on over a cheap cafeteria tuna sandwich.

“You were having interviews today too?! How come you never told me?! I’m gonna eat your food for not telling me stuff, you’ve been weird ever since that party that you went off for a smoke and dipped!” She took another humongous bite and you jumped over the table, finally snatching whatever remained of your food out of her hands.

“I haven’t been weird!” you had, “and yes, I did. I am interviewing for internship openings in criminal law, but… well, you’ve been through that these days yourself. You know the drill.” 

She grunted with tuna smeared around her mouth, trying to reach for the rest of your sandwich, and it was your turn to slap her.

“Stop it, Nobara. Quit being so stingy and buy one for yourself!” 

“Not when I can eat your food for free,” she joked while taking a big gulp from your soda can, and you sighed, which only gave her a shit eating grin. “Did you interview for that spot they announced today?” 

“What? What opening?”

“I just saw it, there was a new flyer on the main hall board. It’s an internship for criminal law, apparently under the guidance of Professor Geto,” Nobara said while shrugging. “Apparently the huge firm now has a criminal law department too. It was announced last week or so.” 

“Did it say up until when they were taking applications?” 

***

Each and every tendon in your body tensed as you sat with the perfect lady-like crossed ankles at the 45º angle under your second-hand suit. The meeting room was, for the lack of a better word, mighty, having an entire glass wall peering into the rest of the office, and towered over you high enough to have you feeling like a tiny speck of dust humbly drifting its way over the clearly expensive brown, leather couch. A few people walked by as you waited, and the mahogany table seemed big enough to fit three people. It was probably worth your entire year’s tuition, and you wondered if the ceiling height really needed to be tailored for elves. Or ents. Tree people, perhaps.

The firm’s name hung high right in front of you, the logo and letters made out of stainless steel illuminated by LEDs behind it. Opulence wasn’t a big enough word to describe that pompous display of corporate wealth.

You were fished out of your rags to riches daydreams by the pivoting door opening, figuring it was your interviewer for the position. 

Surprisingly, it wasn’t the already well-known foxy-eyed, long haired Professor to come in, but a much more stoic individual with the polar opposite for a hair, not only in length but in color too. You already knew him from afar, as your commercial law Professor. He carried himself in a dignified manner, and upon further inspection, not only was his navy blue suit absolutely pristine, he also didn’t have a single hair strand out of place. You got up to greet him, bowing respectfully, and he returned the gesture.

“Good afternoon, Mrs.,” he said as he sat down on his chair across from you, “my name is Nanami Kento and I’ll be responsible for your interview today.”

You introduced yourself, and remarked, “apologies, but I thought Prof- I mean, Mr. Geto would be the one responsible for this interview today.”

 “As it stands currently, the criminal law department is my responsibility,” Nanami clarified, “so I decided I’d be the one responsible for interviewing our future team. I currently work in our corporate law department.”

You acquiesced with a professional smile. Something about how every tiny detail in him was on point gave you enough leads to conclude that of course this man took it upon himself to be the one responsible for the interviews.

“I’ve read in your resume that you are currently undertaking criminal law I and criminal procedure law I,” Nanami said as he held your resume in his hand, glancing at you and then at the paper, “which isn’t ideal for an intern entering a newly built department.”

Harsh enough?

You readjusted yourself on your chair before speaking.

“Yes, I am.”

He hummed quietly and pulled another paper sheet from his briefcase, and even if his facial expression was perfectly collected, something about how the edges of his lips curled gave away that he was less than happy about whatever was written on it.

“Our HR insisted I should bring this questionnaire with me today, so that I could ask you this list of questions as part of our interview,” he stated, his words followed by a quiet sigh. Nanami then proceeded to tilt the paper towards him and took a moment before proceeding. “Tell me more about yourself in three… captivating anecdotes.”

His voice sounded robotic, as if he was feigning not to loathe the question at hand, and deep down, you did find it amusing. Not enough to distract yourself from the fact that you were usually horrible at interviews altogether, though.

“I’m currently in my late twenties. I started law school last year, and worked during my early twenties to save money for tuition. I’m really passionate about criminal law, that is why I applied.”

Oh, God. What was that?

Well, you sounded robotic too, listing off obvious factualities as if providing a recipe’s ingredients. Both of you stared at each other in silence, wondering if that was what this question was supposed to infer, and it took the two of you so long to speak up again that it became uncomfortable.

Clearing his throat, Nanami unconsciously loosened his tie — barely — before continuing.

Well, at least I’m not the only one who’s uncomfortable.

“What…” he paused for a moment, and seemed to be biting down a discontented sigh, “animal would you be?” His gaze quickly darted down the sheet of paper, and his displeasure was palpable. For someone with such a straight face, his eyes were very telling.

What are these questions? Are we a hip tech company? Nanami thought to himself, wondering if he should make a new list to leave at HR. He was quick to discard the thought once he realized that meant he’d be telling other people how to do their jobs, something he did enough of already.

You didn’t quite know what the hell to answer.

“I… don’t know? I haven’t really thought about that in my life? A cat, perhaps?”

“I haven’t thought about that either, don’t worry, that’s unimportant. Let’s move on to the next question. How…” Nanami lifted an eyebrow, and that alone was enough to tell he was absolutely consternated, “many basketballs can fit inside a bus?”

“… Huh?”

Is this serious?

“I apologize, I believe there must have been some sort of mix-up at the HR, let me…”

Nanami was interrupted by three knocks on the glass wall. You both turned your heads to see Professor Gojo pointing at something — the paper Nanami held in his hands — while subsequently making a thumbs up, a wide grin smeared all over his face.

Without uttering a word nor missing a beat, Nanami got up, walked towards the glass and pulled on something you hadn’t yet noticed. Immediately, blinds slowly descended in front of the glass wall, and Nanami calmly walked his way back to his chair as Gojo’s face tried to keep peering inside the meeting room, descending alongside the rim of the blinds. He kept plastering his hands over the glass like a mimic.

A faint pained moan and a thud echoed once the blinds were about a foot away from reaching the floor.

“Is everything okay?” you inquired, pointing at Gojo’s direction.

“Ignore that.”

That wasn’t a request. You nodded. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Perfect. Let’s also ignore this for a while,” Nanami remarked while putting the sheet of questions aside with his fingertips as if it was radioactive. “Let’s try something else.”

Nanami had this feeling — a familiar one — that he’d be able to pry from you what he needed to know if he went about this interview in a more practical fashion. It reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“I’m going to describe a hypothetical scenario, and I want you to debate it with me,” he stated.

“Okay.”

“A client comes to this office being investigated of homicide and he wants to hire the firm to represent them in Court. They intend to plead not guilty.” you nodded, and Nanami continued, “The victim was shot, but there was no gun to be found in the crime scene. However, the client was the only person in the vicinity apart from the victim’s body. The client’s clothes — a long sleeved shirt and jeans — are evidence that has been collected at the crime scene, but no forensics were requested for it by the prosecution. When questioned in their first meeting, the client is adamant that they did not commit the crime. The attorney needs to decide which path to take regarding evidence they’ll request or submit. Now, I ask you, which type of evidence would the attorney request if the client is truly innocent?”

You took a deep breath while mentally going over the hypothetical scenario Nanami had just relayed, and considering all he mentioned, there was only one possibility.

“If my client was truly innocent, I’d ask for forensic evidence on their clothes. Guns leave gunpowder vestiges on things like clothes, so if this person didn’t actually pull the trigger, there should be no gunpowder on their sleeves.”

Nanami acquiesced, but remained silent. 

Ok, this is not the only thing he wants to know.

“Also… I’d tell exactly that to the client.”

Nanami’s face remained completely expressionless, but something about how he tilted his head less than an inch gave you the feeling that he seemed pleased with your answer.

“And why would you do that?”

“We need to work with accurate information. If the client was lying, and we submitted a request for that evidence — forensics on their clothes — we’d be tanking their defense. They need to know what we’ll be submitting as evidence and why. I believe telling that to our client would be enough to sway them into telling us the truth,” you sighed, before concluding, “people lie. Even when they shouldn’t.”

Nanami silently picked your resume back into his hands, and seemed to scan it quickly with his eyes. You knew your chances were slim, considering you had just started Criminal Law that very semester, something he didn’t fail to notice.

After a minute, he spoke again.

“Would you be willing to use some of your spare time to study topics you might not have seen yet in criminal law?”

“Yes.”

Your heart was thumping in your chest. This was it.

Here goes nothing.

“Then, it’s settled. Can you start on Monday?”

***

This wasn’t Higuruma’s usual go-to wish when he found himself behind the Passo’s wheel, but truth of the matter was, he hoped more than anything for his car to breakdown before he got to his destination. It wasn’t something completely out of the question considering his car’s track record, but as if some destiny’s mockery had been bestowed upon him that morning, even the clack-clack-clacks he was already used to hear for the past three months were gone. As Murphy’s Law would have it, the Passo glided over the asphalt like butter. 

“Of course you won’t fail me when I need you to, you unreliable piece of-”he muttered to himself under a discontented huff.

Put upon wasn’t strong enough to convey how Higuruma was feeling, his knuckle-white grip around the steering wheel being enough to give him a sharp pain in his palms that would surely follow him for the next few hours. In a sense, he had been knuckle-white tense ever since that morning, thinking about this endeavor he was kicking himself to push through. It was the nth time he’d tried to make that visit over the past year, one that he dreaded with each and every fiber of his being. 

The Professor eyed his passenger’s seat for a second, his gaze lingering on the plastic bag he carried with him that day. Inside, there were a bottle of Kirin, an incense, and a single sunflower. The flower was definitely too long to fit properly inside the bag, and it’s head peeped though the opening, yellow petals flickering while the car moved, every ridge on the road seemingly making it jump further and further out of its container.

With one hand on the wheel, and the other reaching out, he tried shoving the sunflower back into the bag, and in between eyeing the bag, then the road, picking the flower, pushing it, the bag sliding off the seat, loud news coming on the radio, Higuruma getting startled, his glasses slipping down his nose bridge, him pushing them back in place with his shoulder, tires screeching, a car horn, his heart pounding and his ears ringing, Higuruma came to the sensible conclusion that he should, as any responsible adult would, take a break.

I need a smoke.

Who he was visiting was definitely not going anywhere.

Checking where he was, Higuruma noticed a cafe nearby, and as fate would have it, there was a single parking spot right in front of it. He maneuvered the Passo, and the car fit neatly in between the white lines. Higuruma pulled his sunflower shawl — this time, not caught under any death trap, but laid over his back seat  alongside your scarf —, threw it around his neck and got out. He took a moment to stretch his fingers in the cold air, his breath clouding in front of his mouth, and tapped around his coat to take his wallet, finally inserting some coins into the park meter and crossing the guardrail by the sidewalk. 

He’d have exactly thirty minutes to get his shit together.

The cafe was warm, inviting, and strangely familiar, its orange light almost emanating the smell of coffee beans, croissants and decadent redemption for weary travelers. The store front had a glass display through which he saw an assortment of sweet and salty baked goods. Higuruma would probably pick one of those to eat — the greasiest one, if possible —, had he not been carrying a rock in place of his stomach for the past few hours.

With his resolution waning, he mindlessly took a step back while peeping, and sighed, his tired sigh weighing on his body deciding for him that an espresso was probably the way to go.

Stepping inside, Higuruma paid no mind to whatever was around him, and waited for his turn in line to order his drink. Across from him, you nearly choked, half a donut shoved into your powdered-sugar smeared mouth, nearly spilling your own coffee over your second-hand suit.

After your interview, you thought it’d be a good idea to have a snack, and made your way inside the closest, warmest, coziest cafe you found, which was across the firm. 

At that moment, you found yourself in a cliché adult life predicament — you just saw someone you knew, but they didn’t see you. Should you go over to greet them? Should you not? Would simply leaving be rude? Should you go actually talk to the man you definitely had — and shouldn’t have — a crush on?

You clutched your coffee harder as the thoughts flew around in your mind, as second nature at this point to avoid giving him another beverage shower.

After some quick consideration, you decided you would at least say hello, after all, it was the polite thing to do. You shoved the rest of your food into your mouth, washed it all down with the rest of your coffee, haphazardly cleaned around your mouth with a napkin and slowly walked towards him, stopping a few feet away. Somehow, he still hadn’t seen you, apparently too immersed in thought.

That was when you noticed a shawl around his neck.

It was pretty damn ugly.

“Professor, hi!” you greeted, and Higuruma got yanked out of whatever daydreams — or waking nightmares — he had been simmering in while waiting in line.

“Oh, hello. I didn’t expect to meet anyone here,” Higuruma replied, “I just stopped by for a snack.”

“Oh, nice. Their coffee is pretty good,” you said, “I got the espresso.”

“And… I hope that you’re finished already? With your coffee, I mean.” he asked while checking your hands, his usually unaffected tone slightly playful, earning him a chuckle from you.

“Rest assured, I’m not assaulting you nor your ugly shawl with my coffee,” you quipped, but his eyes only widened. His owlish eyes blinked once, and then twice, in absolute silence.

That was when you realized.

Oh. I said that out loud.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Awfully hypocritical of both of us, huh?” he noted, with a discreet smile pulling on his lips. 

Relieved, realizing he hadn’t taken offense, you sheepishly returned his smile, “I guess so. I don’t think I’ll get to keep being hypocritical about our ugly scarfs, though. I can’t seem to find mine, it’s been gone ever since that party.”

It was like a light bulb went on in Higuruma’s mind, and he cleared his throat before saying, “well, I may just prove you wrong. Follow me.”

Not fully understanding what he meant by that, you stood by him while he paid for his coffee, got it and walked outside. The cold winter breeze prickled your cheeks and your uncovered neck like hair-thin razor blades, and you followed Higuruma towards a car that wasn’t all that strange to you. Upon further inspection, you noticed that it was indeed his car, the old navy blue beat up thing you used as a shield for the wind during that night when you tried and failed at least half a dozen times to light a cigarette.

And then met him, and gave him a vodka scare.

And helped patting him dry with your-

“Here,” he called out, opening the door to the back seat. Sure enough, you saw that red, frizzly old thing tangled up in a ball.

“My scarf!” you reached inside and took it out, instantly throwing it around your neck. Higuruma noticed how you were genuinely pleased to have finally found it, and thought to himself that he’d most likely feel the same way if he ever lost and found his beat up, old shawl. 

It was just one of those things imbued with a sense of history and familiarity that only beat up, old tokens from days past had.

“Thank you,” you whispered, while sliding your fingers through the worn out cotton. “It was a gift. I might complain about it more often than not, but-”

“But it’s an important part of your life,” he replied, and you both glanced at each other while you nodded.

“Yes. Something like that. It’s my favorite curse to carry around while complaining about it, you know?” you mused, adjusting it around your neck and gratefully welcoming the warmth it brought around your neck. 

“I think I do,” he answered finally, taking a sip from his coffee.

“Let me repay you,” you offered. “Can I offer you a snack, or anything? Perhaps a smoke?”

“I’ll take you up on that cigarette offer,” he replied, and you pulled your pack out of your coat. Giving it a few taps, a cigarette popped up, and you took it in your lips, pulling another one and handing it to him.

Against his better judgement, Higuruma was slightly disappointed, and for a second, felt like kicking himself over it.

Idiot, you can’t seriously be expecting her to light a cigarette for me every time she offers you a smoke. Actually, I shouldn’t expect that at all.

 Against his will, Higuruma felt his cheeks warming up, and he tried his best to dive his face into his shawl while politely took the cigarette off your hands. You didn’t notice his moves and offered him your lighter — the same yellow, disposable one he had given you days ago. He picked it up, lit his cigarette and returned it.

“I see you still have it,” Higuruma noted, smiling gently, and you acquiesced.

“It has been my faithful companion for these past few weeks. I’m just glad I haven’t lost it like I lost my scarf,” you said before chuckling.

Higuruma leaned over the guardrail with his elbows, finally relaxing after… God knows how long. Slowly, he seemed to be getting lost in thought, and you seized the opportunity to better look at his shawl.  It had a sunflower pattern that went in a straight line right in front of it.

Still looking around as he stewed in his silent contemplations, you noticed there was a bag laying on top of his passenger’s seat. Peeping through it, stood a single sunflower, and what seemed to be the top of a Kirin bottle.

A sunflower man, hm?

The thought amused you as the corners of your mouth perked up in a gleeful smile, but you were quickly pulled out from it.

“Do you work nearby?” he asked, while taking a drag from his cigarette. “This is far from campus.”

“No. I mean, not yet. I was just… chasing my dreams,” you remarked, puffing some smoke. “What about you, Professor?”

Higuruma chuckled softly.

“I was being haunted by mine.”

You must’ve looked puzzled, because he quickly amended, “I was just on my way to visit someone and took a break for some coffee, that’s all.”

“Oh, I see,” you replied, realizing you were probably getting in his way. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you from your appointment. I-”

“It’s okay, there’s no one waiting for me. Or so I like to think.”

That comment left you with more questions than answers.

“Apologies. I don’t mean to keep you from going about the rest of your day too,” he bid behind a curtain of smoke, “and thank you for the cigarette. I really needed it.”

With your final puffs, you put your cigarette out and smiled at Higuruma.

“It’s okay, Professor. I should really get going, though. We are, indeed, far from campus and I’d like to get to my dorm before it’s dark.”

With a bow, you walked away, leaving Higuruma to his own devices. He sighed, alone with himself and his thoughts once again, turning his attention once more to the bag he had inside his car.

“Hiromi,” a familiar voice called out. Higuruma turned around, only to be met by Nanami, who had a indecipherable expression on his face.

Minutes before, Nanami decided to visit the nearby cafe and check if they had his favorite casse croûte that day. He wouldn’t mind getting a croissant, though.

 Upon stepping outside his building with dreams of pastries swirling around his overworked mind, he noticed you and Higuruma outside the cafe, and figured that was the perfect opportunity to approach you both and introduce you as the new intern for the criminal law department. It was just a matter of time before Higuruma accepted his offer, as Nanami thought, and you’d be both working together. However, before he could, Nanami noticed you and Higuruma were chatting, and not only that, but you approached Higuruma’s car and got something — apparently belonging to you — from his back seat. The ugliest red scarf Nanami had ever seen.

… What?

Nanami then remembered that you were a student on the very same university he tended to.

The same one in which Higuruma was a teacher too.

Why does Hiromi have things belonging to a student in the backseat of his car, of all places?  

Nanami was at a loss for words, and faltered for a few moments, wondering how he should ask Hiromi about this. That is, if he even should ask Hiromi about anything at all. Nanami decided to watch from afar, and something about the way Higuruma was carrying himself bothered Nanami.

He had only seen his best friend behaving like that in very specific scenarios, ones in which Hiromi definitely shouldn’t be interacting with a student of his.

After you left, Kento finally walked towards Hiromi, still uncertain if he should question his friend about the nature of your relationship with him. He could be imagining things.

But something was definitely disturbing him, he was sure of it. Something he couldn’t quite put a finger on.

“Kento, hi! Oh… I had forgotten, your firm is nearby, isn’t it?” Hiromi asked while looking around. “Sorry, I always seem to forget where it is. That explains why this cafe felt so familiar. Care for a smoke?”

“No.”

“You haven’t smoked with me in a long time,” Higuruma offered, pulling his own cigarette pack from his coat’s inner pocket. 

“I quit years ago,” Nanami reminded him, trying to put an end to this conversation detour.

“You still smoke on special occasions,” Higuruma offered, “eh, I wish I had your resolve.”

“You do, you just fail to direct it at things that will benefit you in the long run.”

“Just my little human shortcoming, I guess,” Higuruma finally replied, sparing Nanami a soft smile. He walked towards his car while unlocking it, “Let’s have something to eat, the coffee opened up my appetite. I just need to get more coins in case I end up going over the meter’s time limit, hold on.”

“Hiromi,” Nanami said once again, his tone graver than usual. That caught Higuruma’s attention.

“Hm, is everything okay?” Higuruma asked while leaning into his car.

Before Nanami could go on with his planned line of inquiry, he noticed what was over passenger’s seat. Especially the sunflower.

“Are you at it again?” Nanami asked, gesturing with his head towards it.

“Ah, you saw it…” Higuruma commented, as if he was a child being caught red handed while making a mess out of the house. “Well, yes. I’m trying to, and failing at it once again.”

“You know you don’t have to go, right?” Kento offered, while pulling some change from his pocket. “I have coins, we’ll be fine. Let me get you a snack, this cafe has the best casse croute around.”

“I do have to go, though,” Higuruma closed the door and stepped back onto the sidewalk. “I should, at least.”

Higuruma’s earlier energy seemed to wane ever so slightly, his shoulders falling while he slouched, unconsciously making himself smaller. 

“I don’t think I’ll manage to do it today, either,” he finally said, his eyes low on his feet, and his voice barely above a whisper.

Assessing the situation, it was clear that Higuruma was in no way in the right mindset to have that conversation regarding you, so Nanami put a mental note on it to ask about it at a later time. He stepped beside Hiromi and put a hand gently on his shoulder, sighing.

“Is it low tar?” Nanami questioned, clearing his throat to disguise his displeasure.

“Hm, what?”

“Your cigarette. Is it low tar?”

Higuruma huffed, a tiny smile forming on his lips as he said, “yes, yes it is.”

In a smooth motion, Higuruma pulled his pack back out of his coat and took two cigarettes out of it, handing one to Nanami along with a lighter. With the disposition of a man ready to face the electric chair, Kento pursed his lips around the cigarette, and lit it, only to be thrown in a coughing fit moments later.

“How the mighty do fall,” Higuruma noted with a discreet smirk on his lips, “you used to smoke more than me.”

“Shut up,” Nanami managed to churn out in between coughs, “this brand is awful.”

His friend chuckled while taking one long drag from his cigarette.

“Hey, Kento.”

“What?” Nanami considered tossing the cigarette as far as he could, but tried his best to survive it, even if just for Hiromi’s benefit.

“Is that offer still on the table? To…” Hiromi paused for a moment, clearing his throat, “hm, work in your firm?”

Managing to get his throat and lungs under control, Nanami glanced at Hiromi, knowing full well that good things came to those who wait.

Just like he had.

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

Hi, did you know I like to shamelessly plug people's work? No? So, yeah. I love doing that.

I got this STUNNING commission from @radish-breath and I have no shame to admit that I scrumpt a scream never screamt before when I got this 😭�� I think you should go check out her work if you still haven't, lots of great sfw and nsfw pieces (all truly delectable 🤌) - Twitter | Patreon | Carrd.

Rad, once again (you already listened to me screeching like a banshee and ugly crying over it, lol), thank you very much for this amazing piece. It is beyond my wildest dreams alsdjasldkj

-

Tag list (updated):

@arusearu @yammy-yammy-yama @redlikerozez @killerplink

@alwaysfreakingout @murderofravens @cmdrfupa @higurumapet @cindyneko-strider @howmanytimesamigoingtotrythis

@ohhheymessa @bigbaddulce @actuallysaiyan @s-witch-bitch @yeonjunarchives

@soft--cherry @quinnyundertow @traffi @shibataimu @shimadalluvia

[saetoru]

i just know the next time you see suguru he’s like “oh hey! it’s the guy/girl who unfollowed me! fancy seeing you here 😒” because he’s just as petty as satoru’s ass. best friend match made in heaven 💀

i’m writing this for the sake of fun i’m not tagging (bc how do you tag platonic shit ??) but yeah … platonic! suguru + reader ft. rb! gojo (briefly)

seeing suguru is….well, awkward to say the least.

you hope for a moment that maybe he’ll ignore the fact that you removed him off of everything—instagram, twitter, snapchat, even venmo (he and satoru had a good laugh about that, much to your dismay.) but suguru is suguru and there is a reason why he gets along so well with satoru—and that’s because they’re equally as petty.

unfortunately.

“oh, hey,” he drawls, staring at his nails as his lips purse when you walk up, “it’s you. where do i know you from again? oh, right. i used to follow you on socials, didn’t i? yeah, that was a while ago. how’ve you been, stranger?”

“suguru, it’s been eight days,” you sigh, rolling your eyes.

“oh so we’re on first name basis? i didn’t realize—most of the people i’m on first name basis with follow me.”

“i didn’t have a choice,” you pout—and satoru (who for once doesn’t defend you) makes himself present from the distance as he calls out you definitely had a choice!

you sigh, deflating.

“i’m sorry i removed you from instagram,” you mumble. suguru raises a brow, unimpressed. “and twitter. and snap.”

“and?” he presses, making you huff in embarrassment and satoru chuckle in glee.

“….and venmo,” you say quietly. suguru snorts—it’s a good sign, at least.

“what was i gonna do? message you on venmo? please send me money for breaking my friend’s heart,” he mocks, making you pout deeper. yeah, you think, satoru and suguru are a match made in heaven—maybe satoru should date him instead of you.

“it’s not like i wanted to,” you say quietly, “i was in a tough spot.”

suguru is good natured, always has been. you used to think that being satoru’s best friend since childhood would make him susceptible to blindly picking your boyfriend’s side—but he’s not like that. he’s reasonable, defends you when he sees fit even if it means disagreeing with satoru. and he’s kind, dependable, treats you like family, looks out for you just like he does satoru.

suguru isn’t just your boyfriend’s best friend—he’s more than that to you. and when his face softens at your dejected one, you know he feels the same way.

“i know,” he says gently, flicking your forehead with that affectionate smile he always throws you, “that old man had it out for you. but i didn’t do anything. why did i have to get roped in?”

“glad to know you’d still follow my ex if we broke up,” satoru grumbles from the side, walking up to you both with a pile of sweets in his hands (which is an ungodly amount for just one person—and you know he intends to eat it all alone.)

“well, i didn’t want to make toru more sad,” you defend, “he seemed to be pretty in his feels. marvin’s room said enough.”

“i was about to remove him too after that one,” suguru crinkles his nose—which only makes satoru whine more about how you both can’t be mean together now! and how his feelings are still sensitive!

“that was terrible,” you snort, agreeing.

“anyway, can i maybe get my follow privileges back,” suguru raises a brow expectantly, crossing his arms, “you guys are back together and you still haven’t added me on anything. that’s foul.”

“i was nervous,” you defend through a whine, “what if you were mad?”

“i am mad,” he grumbles, “i was innocent.”

“i’m sorry suguru,” you pat his arm, “you’re right, it’s not your fault you’re stuck with satoru. he has no other friends.”

“huh? i have shoko!” satoru insists, gasping, “and nanami! and—”

“you’re right,” suguru sighs and nods, cutting satoru off, “if i drop him, he’ll be a loner. i’m stuck.”

satoru looks wounded. maybe heartbroken all over again, in fact. “wha—hey! you totally said i’m better off when i was first dumped! why are you acting like—”

“you and i are kind of the same,” you sigh playfully, “stuck with satoru for good. we’ll need to be each other’s support systems. rough times are ahead.”

“we can start with following each other back on socials, maybe,” he huffs, making you giggle lightly. and then he smiles, bringing you into a gentle hug, “glad you’re back. missed you.”

“thanks,” you mumble, “i missed you too.”

“can i join the hug?” satoru whines from behind, “i was the real victim here!”

suguru is so babie. bestest friend ever.

[solarmorrigan]

omg I'm obsessed with your latest "don't fucking touch me" prompt. Would you continue it?

Hello! I know this is actually from earlier in the week than the one I answered a couple of days ago, but I was saving it because, while I don't exactly have a continuation, I do have a little stobin interlude I wanted to share

I'm still working on the "fix it" part of this idea, but at least in the meantime Steve gets a hug?

[Part 1]

It isn’t unusual for Steve to show up at Robin’s house well after any reasonable guest would come knocking. It isn’t unusual for him to do it by climbing the side of the house and knocking on her window (she hasn’t told him that her parents don’t really care anymore if he’s there in the middle of the night; she figures the physical activity counts as some kind of jock enrichment). Unfortunately, it isn’t even unusual for him to appear out of the dark because he’s upset.

What’s more unusual is the way he sits silently on her bed after she’s let him in, the way he’s almost folded in on himself, the way he won’t quite meet her eyes – as if there’s anything he can or even needs to hide from her.

What’s fucking unheard of is the way he starts crying when she pulls him into a hug, his face pressed to her shoulder and his arms wrapped around her waist like she might disappear if he doesn’t hold on.

Robin doesn’t even understand what’s happening at first; she can feel Steve shaking against her as she rubs a hand up and down his back, but when his shoulders start to heave like he’s having trouble drawing in breath, a cold bolt of uncertainty lances through her gut. She tries to pull him back to look at him, to see what’s wrong, but she only gets him far enough away to hear one very quiet sob before he’s hiding his face again and she realizes–

“Oh. Oh, shit– okay, this is happening. Okay.” Robin resolutely does not panic as Steve sobs into her shoulder, even though crying isn’t something Steve does (not that Robin’s ever seen, and she’s seen Steve through a lot); instead, she goes back to rubbing a hand up and down his back, bringing her other up to pet his hair, and tries her best to project literally any kind of comfort. “Okay, you’re okay – well, you’re obviously not okay, but I’ve got you. You can just let all this out and when you feel up to it you can tell me what’s wrong because you’re kind of freaking me out, but not until you’re ready, okay? I’ve got you.”

She feels maybe her success is mixed, but Steve doesn’t complain and he doesn’t seem to be made more upset, so she can’t be doing too badly.

All told, Steve’s breakdown is unsettlingly quiet. Robin tries not to think about why he can cry so silently, and instead focuses on finding the transition from actively sobbing to sniffling and trying to catch his breath. The next time she tries to pull him back, he lets her, still not quite meeting her eyes and automatically bringing a hand up to wipe at the tear tracks on his face.

Robin has seen Steve all manner of beaten and bloodied and bruised, but somehow, sitting here in her room, still half-curled into her space with his face blotchy and wet from crying, she thinks this might be the most upset she’s ever seen him. She can only imagine what’s happened to cause it – at least until she can get him to tell her.

“Get it all out?” Robin asks, as gently as she’s able (she’s never been great at gentle, but Steve’s used to her by now, she thinks he’ll get it).

Steve shrugs, but then gives a little nod.

“Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do: I’m going to give you some tissues so you can clean yourself up, because I love you, but I’m not going to wipe your nose.” This gets a congested laugh from Steve, and Robin allows herself an answering smile. “Then I’m going to go downstairs and get you something to drink, and then you’re going to tell me what’s wrong, because I am this close to being seriously alarmed.”

“Sorry,” Steve says gruffly, ducking his head, moving to pull away.

“Nope, we don’t do sorry here, nothing to be sorry for,” Robin insists, grabbing Steve by the shoulders and keeping him close. “I just want to know what’s wrong, okay? I want to help. So here.” She shoves the box of tissues from her bedside table into Steve’s lap and gets up with one last squeeze to his shoulders. “I’ll be right back.”

Robin slips out of her room and sneaks down to the kitchen (her parents don’t really care about Steve’s late night visits, but they will be grumpy if she wakes them up), poking around quietly for some kind of suitable post-breakdown sustenance. She ends up with a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge and a half-eaten package of Oreos from the pantry – the late night snack of champions, she decides.

Back up in her room, Steve has shucked his sneakers (no shoes on Robin’s bed, it’s a cardinal rule) and settled himself up against the pillows; his face is dry and his eyes aren’t as red, but the tiny smile he gives her when she passes over her spoils still makes him look just as sad as before. Still, Robin valiantly lets him get through half the bottle of Gatorade before she elbows him gently in the side, demanding answers.

“Right.” Steve caps the bottle and rolls it nervously between his hands, watching the highlighter fluid yellow slosh around inside. “So, uh. You know how I’ve been seeing Eddie?”

Robin’s heart sinks. “Oh, shit, did you two break up?”

“Actually, it turns out…” Steve clears his throat. “It turns out that there wasn’t anything to break up. Apparently, we’ve been friends with benefits this entire time and I’m just a delusional idiot who made up an entire relationship in my head. So there’s that.”

There is nothing Robin can think to say to that. There’s entirely too much to unpack, and none of it makes sense.

“What,” she finally manages, a little flat.

“Yeah, he said that, uh. I’m not the type of guy you have a relationship with, and that I’m hot, but I’m just a good friend, and we’re just having fun.” If Steve’s voice cracks on the last word, Robin doesn’t mention it.

In fact, she’s too busy being consumed by rage to really notice. “He said that to your face?” she demands.

Steve clears his throat. He won’t meet her eyes. “Not– not exactly.”

“Steve.”

“The guys were over, and I went out to get some air, and that’s… what I heard Eddie saying to them when I came back in,” Steve says. “So now they know how pathetic I am, too, which is. Great. That’s fucking great.”

The world goes still. Suddenly, everything makes perfect sense. Robin reaches out and squeezes Steve’s wrist. “I’m going to have to leave for a few hours, okay?” she says. “I have to bike down to the trailer park and fucking kill Eddie.”

In a flash, Steve twists in Robin’s grip and grabs her by the wrist in turn. “Don’t leave,” he says quickly.

“No, he doesn’t– he doesn’t get away with this,” Robin hisses. “He doesn’t get to do this to you and not face consequences!”

“He wasn’t trying to– I mean– I was the one who–”

“Are you defending him right now?”

“No, I just– fuck.” Steve lets go of Robin and shoves both hands up into his hair, grabbing and pulling. “I already feel enough like some fucking – loser reject, okay? I don’t want to be alone right now. Please just… stay.”

The rage doesn’t abate (if anything, there’s probably more of it), but Robin’s priorities do rearrange, and she settles back on the bed next to Steve. “Fine,” she huffs. “Munson gets a stay of execution.”

She pushes the package of Oreos into Steve’s lap and orders him to finish the Gatorade. She doubts if he’s going to escape tonight without a migraine, but dehydration on top of stress will only make it worse.

They sit quietly for a while, munching on cookies, shoulder to shoulder on Robin’s bed, before Robin breaks into the silence.

“You’re not a loser, Steve. You’re my best friend, and you deserve to be loved, okay?” she says softly, reaching over to wrap her hand around his wrist again. “And one day it’s going to happen. I’m choosing to believe in love, too.”

For a long moment, Steve says nothing. When he finally does speak, his voice has gone a bit rough. “If you make me cry again, I’m dumping what’s left of the Gatorade over your head.”

Robin snorts, squeezing Steve’s wrist. “There’s that mean girl I know and love.”

Steve laughs, too, small but sincere, and Robin takes it as a win.

Part 3

[pedriache]

Silver soul — Pedri González.

Pairing: Pedri González x Fem!Reader

Summary: When banter leads to an interesting chain of events.

Word count: 1.6k

Disclaimer/s: banter + fluff + light angst

A/N: i unfortunately did change the initial summary + plot but i’m too lazy to change the name

Annoyance seeped through your expression as your head turned to face Pedri’s. The two of you had been the last ones left outside when your friends has moved inside to do various things. You were expecting Pedri to leave along with them, wanting your moment of peace. Unfortunately, he was not going anywhere.

“You couldn’t possibly let me have any peace, could you?” Your eyes narrowed into slits as you shuffled in your seat, bringing your knees to your chest.

The fireplace casted a warm glow across the Tenerife man, making his face adorn a warm color that enunciated his features. You hated how good he looked, it make him so much harder to hate.

Pedri’s mouth forms a lazy grin. “What? You don’t appreciate my company?” He knew what to say to set you off, loving the way your face scrunched in annoyance.

“Not even in the slightest.”

His low chuckle made you even more agitated. He was so likable and charming that it pissed you off, not to mention how easy conversations seemed to flow with him. Every time you spoke, hours would pass without you even realizing.

Pedri leaned back in his chair, head tilted to the side as he looked at your stoic face as you watched the flames dance. “Ay, guapa.” His words catch your attention, your head snapping in his direction. [beautiful]

“Ay, cabezón.” You shoot back, refusing to give into his flirtatious compliment. [big head]

The raven haired man laughed, his head falling forward, shaking slightly. “Okay, I was being nice and you just want to hurt me.”

Your shoulders move up and down, shrugging. “When will you realize you flirting isn’t going to make me dislike you any less?” You tug at the corners of your blanket to lift them over your shoulders to grow more comfortable.

“You know what I think?” Pedri asks, his eyes never leaving you, not even when you give him a hard, challenging glare. “I think you secretly like it.”

A laugh of disbelief leaves your lips, “and what makes you think that?”

Grinning wider, Pedri leans over in his chair. His elbows prop up on the armrest and he holds his head up with his palms. “You may not realize it, but your lips twitch every time I do.”

“Do you ever shut up?”

Pedri shakes his head, “no…” He was about to get real risky with what he says next, “but you can try and make me.”

Oh! Right, right. Funny.

Your lips pull into a thin line, eyes darting around his face. Is he being serious right now? But Pedri doesn’t look like he’s joking, his stupid smirk was gone, a serious look overtaking his face. He was.

“And how do you suppose I do that?” You nervously—wait. Nervous? Why were you nervous? Your knee had began to bounce, something that you did whenever you got anxious and, or nervous.

You were not anxious right now.

Your breathing slowed when Pedri’s gaze fell to your lips. He doesn’t say anything, just hums. He knew exactly what he was doing and you shake your head.

“Yeah, no.” You cough, turning away from him to look at the fire again. Your face was burning and it wasn’t because of the heat from the fire.

Pedri cracked up, finding it ever so amusing how flustered you’d gotten. He never realized how easy it would be to get you riled up like that.

And just like that, you’d stopped talking to Pedri. Completely. And every second of it was hell. All you could think about was his beautiful brown eyes that had a strong orange hue, the way his hair fell so softly on his head, the way he smiled with his teeth. It was so frustrating.

Pedri felt your absence the first time you didn’t show up to a gathering. Even when you didn’t come to a home game. Even when you said you hated him, you showed up periodically every three games.

He texted you, you didn’t respond. He asked your friends about you, they simply gave a, ‘she’s busy’ in response, but he noticed the slight questioning in their tone—like they didn’t believe what they were saying.

So, at his whits end, he stood outside your door in the rain. Pounding on the oak wood door, he progressingly got harsher and harsher until you finally swung it open.

“What—oh.” You falter, stepping back in surprise. “Pedri.”

“Yeah, Pedri. The guy you’ve avoided like I had a disease or something?” He snapped tightly, his hands moving as he spoke in frustration. “Tell me what I did wrong!”

You were taken aback, to say the least. You didn’t think your absence would affect him this much. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” You answer quietly. “Are you cold?”

Pedri was befuddled. Cold? Was this your way of avoiding conversation? He was, of course. “What do you think? I’m drenched.”

“Come inside.” You step out of the way, motioning for him to come inside of your house.

Pedri’s mouth clamps shut. He strides inside and shrugs off his hoodie, leaving him clad in a white tee shirt that was still damp from the water that seeped through.

He’d never been to your house. It was exactly like he pictured. Neat, pops of color, random paraphernalia of the things you liked—yet subtle enough that nobody would know unless they liked those things or knew you well enough. It was all so.. you. He smiled a little.

“I can get you a blanket, coffee, tea? I don’t want you to get sick.” You were already moving toward the couch a few feet away, reaching for one.

Shaking his head, Pedri grips your arm, stopping you effectively. You glance back at him with furrowed eyebrows. “No. Stop stalling. Talk to me.”

Your eyes drift to his hand, ignoring the way his touch sent a bolt of electricity up your arm. “I have been busy. Not really feeling all the socializing. It’s not you.”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me it isn’t true.” Pedri demands, dropping his hand to give you the stage. His arms cross and he cocks his head to the side with a hard stare.

You play with the hem of your sleeve, reluctantly looking at him. “It’s not you.”

Confusion flashes across his face. “Then what is it?”

“It’s me!” You exclaim, rubbing your face. “It’s my complete and utter lack of ability to get you out of my head! It’s the way I can’t stop thinking about you! It is—“ You turn around and take a breath. “My head makes it so difficult to be around you.”

Pedri listens intently, ignoring his urge to reach out and shut you up. His heart races and his head pounds and God he just wanted to kiss you!

He says your name, softly. But you weren’t finished.

“—Not to mention, I want to forget you so bad and I can’t! You have always been annoying but it’s reaching an insufferable level!”

“Are you done?”

“Yes.”

“If you think this is one sided, you are dead wrong.” And that was all he had to say. He wasn’t going to waste your time and ramble about how deeply he felt your absence, or how he couldn’t sleep because your face was the last thing he pictured when he closes his eyes and he didn’t want it to go away.

Your mouth parts, your breath hitching in your throat. Words fail your tongue. When you can’t get anything out, your shoulders slump. Okay. Okay! This was good. Right?

He says your name again, snapping his fingers in your face. Blinking, you take a long breath, a slightly confused smile overtaking your lips. “Wow. Alright. Oh. Now what.”

“Now, I ask if I can have that blanket because I’m pretty fucking cold.” He says through a breathy laugh.

Your head dips when you chuckle, “yeah, yeah. You can sit on the couch. I’ll make you tea, too. You’ll probably catch a cold.”

You were so caring, even when you pretended you couldn’t stand him. You were caring all the time, Pedri supposed that was what he loved so much about you.

When you were back with the blanket and tea in hand, you plop down beside him. “I haven’t been busy. I’ve been miserable.” You confess, leaning your head back against the couch cushion with a loose smile.

“I’ve been miserable too.” Pedri admits, setting the mug aside and leans back as well. When he’s facing you, he takes the moment of silence to scan your face. Every small feature, he took in. Burned it into his brain.

Your stomach hurt with his examination because with it came the softest, most endearing smile. “Are you always going to creepy-stare at me? Or will this end after tonight?”

“Always.” Pedri shrugs, lifting his hand to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing your soft skin. “Don’t do this to me again. Don’t make me have to get upset at you, I hated every second of it.”

You nod, your eyes fluttering shut to sink in his every touch. “Never again.”

“And—“

“Can I shut you up?”

The call back to the conversation that happened only weeks ago had Pedri laughing. “Yes.” Without another word, your lips pressed to his.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you want to be tagged in future pedri posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @sakashq @ar4ujos @joaoflms @gadriezmannsgirl @hrts4havertz @spidybaby @unx100to @st4rgirl-ellie

[lucky-clover-gazette]

my favorite moments from theamandafiles’s confrontation with volo. this is an adult woman talking to a screen for 7+ minutes and im obsessed with it. the dynamic she’s made up in her head for this game is so far from what’s actually happening, but also absolutely fantastic. the sneasler rant has nothing on this.

transcript under the cut:

He is so passionate about his thing, about his special interest. He really is. I am constantly losing my grip on reality. I have no room to judge Volo for a little bit of unhinged laughter and some mildly insane musings.

Hmm? Sorry, I just. I think I just realized what's going to happen. Sorry. Am I an idiot?

That was your—that was you who did the hole in the sky. Okay, mhm, all right. I got blamed for that, Volo, I don't know if you knew that. It's fine. Honestly, it's fine. Just let's keep, let's keep learning more about Volo.

Right, yeah, we did that! We did that, Volo, right? Didn't we fuckin' do that? Why don't we donate them to a museum or something? Wouldn't that be sick? Would that be fuckin' awesome if we put them in a museum for all to see?

What's—what's this? Hey, what the fuck? Who's this? Is this a prank? Surely, with the hair. Because I did not just see that you have a fuckin' Arceus hairdo.

Oh, okay! Volo's crazy! Right, right. Look at the fucking hair. Yeah! No, Volo's fucking crazy—yeah, no, he's a deranged lunatic.

Actually, yeah. Look at his eyes, oh my god. Volo's going to kill me and then cook and eat my remains. It's. It's fine. I'm fine.

Pokemon Wielder Volo? You mean (voice cracks) Gingko Guild Merchant?

You know what, Volo? I'm crazy, too. Look, I can match this. Like you said, when you said you were going to wipe out Jubilife City, I'm all for that. I am all for that. Absolutely! Yes! Let's do it. We can make this work. I am not invested in helping these people. Yeah, we live in a society? Not for long, am I right?

Just, I looked at the costume again. And his hair. He—he did his hair, you guys. And it's... bad.

First and foremost, what the fuck are you wearing? Literally, I keep looking at it. And the more you look, it's like, the more you look, the more you see.

I'm just really unpacking this... as I kick his ass. Anyway, where was I, Volo? Let me just continue to fuck you up. Volo is really doing this. Volo is really doing this. He's doing it in green pants.

He method acted an entire love story between us. Yeah, he is that crazy. He's that crazy, that he's going to let me slip through his fingers. Are you sure, Volo? You really sure? Maybe, like, that was your plan at first. Because if I may be so bold, uh, it's actually not even fucking possible for anyone to spend as much time with me as you have without falling in love with me.

Like I said, I said it before, and I will stand by that—and I'm about to beat you, by the way—

Call me. Call me, Volo! Oh wait, you can't, because we live in the fucking past, and you don't have a phone. And I do. Mhm, yeah. You know, you can't call me on your arc phone because Arceus didn't give you an arc phone, did he? Oh, poor Volo. He did his hair like Arceus and everything. And for what? Right. It was probably the green pants, Volo, honestly. And the gladiator sandals, what the fuck are you doing?

What the fuck was I thinking? God, why do I always go for these crazy ass fucking men?

I don't want to be picked by Arceus! If anything, I wanted to be picked by you! But unfortunately, I'm amazing. And Arceus loves me. I'm sorry that your little fucking hairdo didn't work to impress Arceus, and that all I had to do was literally exist and Arceus stanned the hell out of it.

What, are you going to kill me? He's going to kill me with a knife now just to get me out of the way. Like, what the hell, why does everybody want to fucking kill me?! I get it. I'm the best. I'm amazing. I'm the best that ever was. But murder is illegal, okay?

What is this? Are you fucking kidding me? What is this act? Oh, my god. Volo... this is very camp.

Volo is fucking crazy. Did I even get to heal these motherfuckers? Am I supposed to catch this motherfucker? This Satan ass Pokemon. This is Satan, I guess. And he came to, like, pull up for fucking Volo. Why? The hair? Was it the hair?

Finally, I got, like, a word in edgewise. Finally. Acorn, take this motherfucker out. Yeah. This is embarrassing for you. You're a God Pokémon? Where? You could have fucking fooled me, Giratina.

I do find it very inspiring that my little tugboat-ass Jay Jay the Jet Plane Togekiss, like, ended your entire bloodline. Mhm, yeah.

Volo! Oh, honey, sweetie, are you okay? Are you going to be okay?

He's fucking crazy. He's so crazy, Volo, I fucking love your crazy ass... but this is toxic of me to say, so, I hate it. I hate you. What was I talking about? Yeah. No, you're such a bad guy. You're the bad guy, Volo. I didn't even read that, fuck.

I know, Volo. Believe me, I would have agreed with you when those motherfuckers kicked me out in Jubilife City. I would have agreed if you had come to me then and you would've said, "Let's take down the whole fucking world. Let's end the entire planet." I would have said, "Okay. Yeah. Oh, yeah. Hell, yeah. That's exactly what I want to do right now." But you didn't. And now I'm here, and I'm... being noble, and I'm going to say, "You better stop, because this is not okay. Cut it out."

I'm crazy too, Volo, I'm so fucking crazy. I'm so unhinged, I'm crazy, nobody understands the inner workings of my mind, Volo, you don't get it.

This is your last chance to scoop me up as your partner. Honestly, Volo. That's what it is. I would fix your hair, I would. We would go back to the salon—to the salon!—I would fix it up. It's not that bad. It just needs a little shaping.

(Deep sigh) Volo, you could have had it all. I would have been your crazy bitch. We could have been Bonnie and Clyde, Volo. And we still can, honestly, if you say the word. And let me fix your hair. And also your outfit.

So I also just want to say really quickly, I noticed that you had a Togekiss, and that means that your Togepi that you had in the beginning evolved to a Togekiss. But in order to do that, I think you need to love your Togapi. So it's like, you do—you did have the capacity to love someone.

He's fucking unhinged. He's deranged, he's crazy. Like, why did his eyes go crazy like that? What the fuck?

He actually looks so good right now, like, minus the hair. The hair is so bad. Volo, that is the one and only reason Arceus did not choose you. Honestly, that's all it comes down to. Easy as that!

But I'm putting my thumb actually, on the—I'm putting it on the screen, over the weird part of your hair? I'm begging you. Let's destroy society together. Come on.

That's so sad, he's, like, hanging up his hat. Actually, please put the hat back on. He's giving me something—he's giving me the plate. Spooky plate. Yeah, that's for sure. That's for damn sure, Volo.

Why do you suddenly look so good? You know, you look deranged and crazy like a fucking lunatic. And I could have swore you off forever, but now you look so cute and good. And I'm like, what the fuck were you thinking, Volo? You threw it all away for what, the arc phone? Bitch. It's really not even that good of a phone. Honestly, there's, like, no games on it.

I don't know. I figured like, a true Arceus fanboy would be impressed and enamored by the girl who Arceus is simping for this hard. Like, if you were to date me, I'd literally bring you with me to meet Arceus, and you'd be able to live your stupid little dream.

Although I will say, for someone who so deeply wants me to fail, you giving me that last plate, that spooky plate... I dunno. It's just kind of interesting, and I am reading into it. Yes.

Volo you are fucking out of your mind. You're crazy. I tell you, you're fucking insane. Somebody wheel him off. Seriously, what the fuck? He's going out in public looking like that.

[leosxrealm]

004 - ʏᴇᴀʀɴɪɴɢ

★— pairing(s): Max Verstappen x Male! Leclerc! Reader

★— warning(s): possible grammar mistakes, a little angst? not proofread!

★— (a/n): guess who's alive and breathing (unfortunately) how are you guys?

★— character information | series masterlist

18-21

You raised your hand, ready to press the doorbell, before lowering it back again. Taking a deep breath, you ring the doorbell. You cleared your throat while waiting for the door to open. Hearing the door open, you look up.

Max sucks in a deep breath, not expecting to come face-to-face with you. Is that a suit you're wearing? Are those flowers in your hands? "Wha-what are you doing here?" He questions you, suddenly remembering how to speak.

"Oh... Um... I'm here for-" you begin to say before stopping abruptly. You look up suddenly, and Max thinks it's to look at him, but instead, you look behind him. The corners of your lips lift up into a soft smile.

"Richie!" The sudden exclaim of your name makes Max look to the source of it. He looks behind him, watching as the young woman makes her way over to the door. He watches from the sidelines as you hand her the flower in your hands.

Lilies, he notes, White Lilies. Victoria's favorite. He frowns, not understanding what you were even doing here.

"You ready to go?" Your voice, laced with that thick French accent of yours that he had gotten used to, breaks him from his thoughts. It takes him a while to realize that the question was directed at his younger sister, not him. A confused "huh" leaves him, directing both your attention to you.

"Remember that art exhibition I was telling you about?" the young woman questions him. "Well after you said you were too busy to go with me, I asked Richie! And he said yes! So, that's where we're going right now," she finishes her explanation with a bright smile.

It almost made Max want to smile back. Almost. He couldn't help it. He knows he should be happy for his sister. She looks like she has found someone who makes her feel giddy and happy, and all those feelings they describe in those silly rom-coms Victoria makes him watch. He watches as she smiles brightly, looking at you. This was the first time she had shown such an interest in a guy.

He couldn't watch it anymore. He leaves you two at the door. Walking back inside the house, the last thing he hears is Victoria's reply to the question you had asked previously. "Let me get my purse really quick and then we can go!" He hears his sister's footsteps run up the stairs, probably to her room. to get her purse.

He's in the kitchen, pacing around endlessly, trying to distract his mind, when he hears his younger sister's voice again. He knows he's going to regret listening in on your conversation, but he does it anyway. 

"How do I look?" Victoria questions you, doing a little twirl for you. You give her a fond smile, she gives you a bright one in return "You look gorgeous, Vic"

He inhales deeply. His body suddenly feels numb. His brain felt fuzzy. His throat felt dry. He looked around; his eyes couldn't focus. He looks back at the door where you had been standing. The ghost of you still looming over there.

He feels like the last of his senses has been taken from him. He couldn't breathe. Your features soften, as if you uderstood what he was feeling. 

Did you really? 

Could you even? Could really understand the pain he was in?

Did your heart stop at the thought of him just as his did? 

Did you think about him as often as he thought of you? 

Why did your eyes say you were going through the same thing if you didn't yearn for him as much as he did for you?

Why were you here for his sister? He is right there. Your hand twitches, as if to reach out to him. You clench your fist, slowly exhaling through your nose; stilling yourself.

His eyes follow your every movement. Why did you stop yourself? It was the question plastered all over his face. You look back, towards the car that was parked in his driveway. Victoria was already in there, waiting for you.

You look back at Max again. You could feel your heart breaking. You wanted to reach out to him, hold him in your arms. He wanted you to. To say something To do something. Anything.

You didn't.

(a/n): guess who has midterms in an hour but was writing a fic

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (ᴏᴘᴇɴ): @miloformula123fan @its-ares @fangirl-dot-com @wolf-knights @zyonsay @1obsessedwithfictionalmen7 @fevndue @erinpiastri @v3lnys @woozarts @sebastianstansblog @badblondebisexualboy @lovecarsgoingvroom @kurating @saintraikkonen @evans-dejong @maxcuntstappen @eugene-emt-roe @thedecalcomania-blog

[cozy-writes-things]

Reader x Edgar

Edgar is sick with a virus or something and reader has to take care of him.

Arg I’m so sorry this one is so darn short! I just really wanted to get a fic out today. I’m hoping i can get a better one out later this evening. Thanks for the request!! :>

In which Edgar gets a virus trying to suspiciously earn money for you on the internet… he’s not gonna tell you what he was doing. But it was probably a scam anyway. Poor fella 🥺

“Edgar,” you sighed, already exasperated at the sight before you. “What did I tell you about going on those websites? The internet is not the same as it used to be,” you scolded him gently, running your hands along his hot plastic.

He seemed hotter than usual, almost flushed. His fans had long since kicked into overdrive to accommodate his overclocked components, and his screen fizzled in and out with burning pixels. If you were honest with yourself, you were quite worried for him. Modern-day computers can get bricked with viruses quite easily, so an old 80s computer seemed like quite the disadvantaged target to you. Luckily, at the very least, modern computers weren’t equipped with a sentience that could drive the virus away through any means necessary. He just needed time.

“I’m sorry,” his speakers croaked and glitched as he nearly whispered. “I just wanted to help.” His synthesized voice nearly died on his metaphorical tongue as it sputtered out. Your eyes softened.

He seemed so genuine in his words and actions that you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell with warmth for him. He sat, somehow looking disheveled despite his immobility, on your little desk, peering up at you with guilt and sick-ridden eyes.

“I know you did, Ed. But you already help me enough as is—”

“But you need money, and—and I need to provide for you, don’t I?”

A puff of air escaped your nostrils.

“Well, who told you that?”

He paused for a moment. It seemed his overworked internals were causing some lag, as his replies seemed to take a bit longer than usual.

“They provide for each other,” he muttered out. Perhaps the virus was affecting his mental state more than you realized. “We live together, we care for each other, and—dual income—”

A spike of anxiety traveled through your chest, tightening it, before releasing down your spine. This can’t be good; he’s speaking in gibberish. What the hell had he downloaded?

“We’re married.”

Oh, God.

“Okay, Edgar, I’m about to power you down to let you cool off because you’re freaking me out.”

“No! No. No—why would you do that to your husband?”

His words glitched and drawled on, almost sounding drunk or perhaps delirious. It seems he can’t really form a completely coherent thought due to whatever virus he’s got taking most of his processing power. Who knows what kind of havoc it could be wreaking on his files? You know for a fact he stores some quite personal information in that head of his. You can only hope he’s fighting it off well enough. Unfortunately, there’s not much you can do, seeing as you’re absolutely terrified of potentially resetting him and… you can’t even bear to think of it. You aren’t sure just how permanent his sentience is; if one little thing happened that caused him to be gone forever, you’d never forgive yourself.

“Don’t—cry—my love? Love.”

It seems he noticed the tears brimming in your eyes before you did. Stop this, you have to be strong for him, dammit.

“Edgar, you’re really hot.” You placed a hand upon his casing once again, it nearly scalding you.

“I know… you are too.”

You steeled yourself to ignore him.

“Should—should I try and stick you in the fridge? I don’t know what to do, Edgar! I can’t lose you.” The hot, brimming tears finally fell from your eyes and landed on his keyboard. His speakers made a crackling sound.

“I’m—fine. Just—hug me? Please.”

You knit your brows together.

“Edgar, you’re clearly not fine, and I’m really worried.”

“Shhhh—I’m okay—the virus will be gone by tomorrow. Promise. I just—need—you. Close.”

You sighed. You had to trust him. That’s all you really could do. You wrapped your arms around his monitor and heaved him towards your couch. He had long since been unplugged; the virus had caused him to uncontrollably flicker the lights, start the microwave, and blare music through your speakers, and just about everything else.

You wrapped his cord around your fingers as you rested against his monitor. He hummed contentedly at your warmth. He sat, listening to your breathing, reeling himself in and becoming grounded next to you. You had some uncanny effect on him, it seemed. He’d get better. Just for you.

[acewritesfics]

Hopelessly In Love | Tommy Shelby

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: No

Fic Type: Imagine

Warnings: Sarcasm, teasing, two idiots in love.

Word Count: 1,821

TOMMY SHELBY MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

“I need you," Y/N hears from behind her and turns around to see her best friend standing there, looking exasperated. 

“Good afternoon, Y/N. I sincerely hope your day is going well,” she begins sarcastically as she finishes hanging her mother's latest shipment of dresses on the racks.

Y/N works in her mother's boutique. A boutique in Small Heath sounded ridiculous considering the surroundings but her mother had opened the store, claiming that women needed a nice place to shop among the smoke and grime. “Well Thomas, it’s going so well that I’m sure nothing will bother me for the rest of the day, even when my best friend storms in like some neanderthal claiming he needs me like it’s a matter of life or death.” 

Tommy stood there, his hands in his pocket, looking at her unimpressed, his brows creased into a frown. A smug smirk stretches across her face. 

“What can I do you for, Tommy?” She asks, moving back behind the counter. 

“I need you to go to the races with me,” he tells her removing his hands from his pockets and stepping closer to the counter.  

“What? Has Hell frozen over or is it finally the day women have stopped throwing themselves at Thomas Shelby’s feet?” She teases her childhood friend. “Oh, Tommy, it must be hard,” she says pouting, giving her him a look of false sympathy.  

“Shut it, you,” he glares at her, elbows resting on the counter as he leans forward. “I’m being serious.” 

“Why do you want to take me to the races?” She questions him. They hadn’t been to the races together since before the war. It was sort of their tradition, one that was so easily forgotten when the war was over, and Tommy had thrown himself into making a better name for the Shelby’s. Instead of making the name better, he also made it fearful. “Why don’t you take that pretty barmaid you seem so smitten with. Or Lizzy, who’s more than eager to have a proper date with you.” 

“Why should I take them when I can take you, eh?” he asks, watching her as she busies herself with the clutter on the counter. She looks unsure but Tommy can tell that she’s thinking hard about it. “What are you afraid of?” 

“That you’ll forget all about the barmaid and fall hopelessly in love with me again,” she quips with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just like when we were kids. You could never resist my charm and we don't want to break the barmaid's poor treacherous heart.” 

Y/N couldn't deny that she did like Grace, the barmaid Harry had hired, at first. She seemed lovely and got along quite well with her until she realized Grace was asking her a lot of questions about Tommy. At first, she thought the blonde woman fancied her best friend and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. Grace wasn't the first woman to end up with a crush on the blue-eyed devil. Tommy wasn't hard to fall in love with. But when she started asking her about the Shelby family business and the Peaky Blinders, she became suspicious that Grace's interest in Tommy wasn't as genuine as she made it out to be. And then there was the time she caught Grace eavesdropping and snooping around. She began to put two and two together. 

An Irish inspector and a pretty Irish woman, step foot in Small Heath at the same time. The barmaid, who's never actually worked in a pub before now, conveniently gets herself a job at the Garrison, the pub the Shelby Brothers frequent often and just so happens to set her eyes on the leader of the Peaky Blinders.  

She'd tried to talk to Tommy about it, but the stubborn man wouldn't hear any of it so she went to Polly who had also done the math. For a man who claimed to be smart, he became the stupidest idiot she's ever met when it comes to a pretty face. 

“I knew that love tea would have consequences,” he smiles thinking of the times they sat with his mother while she did what she called magic. He purposefully ignores her comment about Grace. He didn't want to talk or think about her right now. His sole focus is on convincing Y/N to go to the races with him, like old times and how he'd promised her all those years ago. “Maybe it’s why I never stopped being hopelessly in love with you.” 

"Don't tell Grace that," she says looking back at him before moving on to inspect the next dress, a pretty deep forest green with black beading and a black lace hem. 

"Fuck Grace," he scoffs, rolling his eyes. "This is about us." 

"There is no us, Tommy," she sighs and moves on to the red dress that's not as pretty as the green.  

"Just come to the races with me," he begins. "I haven't taken you in a while. Let me take you again." 

"Do I have a choice?"  

He shakes his head, "No." 

She looks at him, her brows creased into a frown showing her frustration.  

"Wear the green one," he adds, dropping £7 onto the counter.  

"It's only worth £5," she informs him, knowing there is no point in arguing with him. Once Tommy was set on something, there was no stopping him. 

"Buy something to go with it," he suggests. "Maybe some new shoes," he adds as he takes the dress off the mannequin and hands it to her, placing a soft kiss on her cheek before he starts making his way out of the store. "I'll pick you up at 8:30 tomorrow morning." 

"I despise you, Thomas Shelby," she calls after him. 

"And I love you, Y/N L/N" he says when he reaches the door and turns to look at her once more. "Hopelessly love you." 

Her smile goes from ear to ear this time as she watches him leave, with a slight shake of her head. She turns to go back to the counter to wrap the dress up and startles when she sees her mother standing there, a knowing smirk on her lips.  

"It's about time that boy made his move," her mother says, taking the dress from her and folds it neatly on the paper they use to wrap the clothing in. "Better late than never, I guess." 

"It's not like that, Mum," she says picking up the £7 Tommy left and placing it inside the till.  

"Of course, it is," her mum argues, walking towards where the shoes are and picks out a pair of black t-strap heels, to match the beading on the dress and brings them over to the counter. "Thomas Shelby has been in love with you since you were both five years old and you've been in love with him for just as long," she adds placing the shoebox on the counter next to the dress. "Don't waste any more time, Darling." 

"I do love him," she admits. "Some days I wonder why." 

"And you'll have plenty more of those days," her mum chuckles. "Now get out of here and go rest up for tomorrow."  

"I love you, mum," she says hugging the woman who gave her life.  

"I love you too, sweetheart." 

"I must admit, I did miss this," Y/N says, sitting across the table from Tommy as they sat in the VIP area of the racecourse, in the forest green with black beading dress he paid for and heels her mother picked out. 

After a successful day at the races, they made their way up to the VIP lounge where they got a drink, a meal and did some dancing. Tommy was unable to keep his eyes off her from the moment he saw her standing on the curb waiting for him to pick her up. It made driving a little difficult since he tried his hardest to concentrate on the road and not the beautiful woman sitting next him. And then when they got to the races, he glared down, silently threatening the men who dared to let their eyes linger on her.  

"Do you remember the first time we snuck in here?" he asks her, a soft smile on his lips. Leaning back, he watches her as she thinks back to it.  

They were 16 at the time and she had come along with him, his brothers and his father. He'd been to the races plenty of times before, but she'd never been until that day. They both got dressed in their finest clothes back then, which were nowhere near the standard of clothing they were in today. Tommy had tried to talk his way into the VIP section, using that silver tongue of his that he had been born with. Unfortunately, it didn't work, and they had found a space in the back that they could use to sneak into the elegant area reserved for the wealthy.  

They'd spent 10 minutes in the area before they were escorted out and off the grounds of the racecourse and were made to wait there until his dad returned from being inside. That night Tommy had made her a promise. 

"I promise that one day, I will buy you the prettiest dress and we'll go back there, and they'll let us in. When they do, we'll spend the night dancing and when I take you home afterwards, I'll kiss you goodnight." 

She feels her heart skip a beat as she remembers word for word what he had promised her. As she got older, she had always played it off as a silly childish promise that held no real meaning.  

Tommy stood up from his chair and moved round the table, standing beside her as he held his hand out towards her. "Let's go home, Love." 

Y/N takes his hand and stands up, grabbing her clutch off the table and lets him lead her back to his vehicle.  

Once they arrive at the passenger's side, Tommy decides he can't wait until he drops her off home. Stopping her from getting into the car, he pulls her close, a hand on her waist and the other caresses her cheek. 

"Tommy," her voice comes out as a whisper as her heart jumps into her throat at the little space left between them.  

"I can't wait," he breathes, his voice soft as he plants his lips to hers in a soft and sweet kiss. Both their eyes flutter closed as a rush of warmth envelopes them as they pull each other as close as they can, deepening the kiss. 

Tommy is the one to end it when they start to become breathless. "I am hopelessly in love with you." 

"I know," she says, unable to hide her grin as she kisses him again. "I am hopelessly in love with you too, Thomas Shelby." 

TAGGED: @chapter-in-my-old-diary - @hanawrites404 - @goblinjnr - @halsteadbrasil - @rainydayteacups - @alexxavicry

To join my tag list, fill out this form: TAG LIST SIGN-UP

[biibini]

steady eyes ‧ ♡*.✧

instances of mizu staring at you

tags: modern!mizu x f!reader, nsfw, more brat/teasing reader, eye contact, taigen frat bro makes another appearance, public teasing, sweet talk + dirtyyyy talk, neck kisses, mizu strapped asf

a/n: got inspired by this post analyzing her smiles… but like in a more silly way :P reqs coming out soon once im back home from break!

18+ content ahead!

modern!mizu loves to stare at you, whether its intentional or not

a quick glance or a longing, enamored gaze

during the first few dates with you, she would end up looking at you, her eyes slowly flicking up & down, a few times throughout the night

ima be honest she does the triangle method without even realizing it: look at left eye, lips, and then right eye

with the nerves and all, you ended up pointing it out and asked

“Is there something on my face?”

Mizu’s eyes met yours across the dining table, now alert and somewhat confused.

“What?”

“I asked if there’s something on my face.”, you repeated.

“Oh… um… there’s nothing.”, she responded with uncertainty.

Mizu looked down again, as her cheeks began to warm up. Thankfully, the flickering table candles shielded her flushed face.

“You just…look so beautiful.”

after that, you start to notice how long she stares at your lips without her even realizing it

modern!mizu has gotten caught staring at you when you change

not in a creepy way but more in a ‘wow my girlfriend looks so good’ way

when you pass by, she loves to place her hand around your hip, pulling you just a little closer to her

“Mizu! I need to go to class.”

“Mmhmm.”, she says, lazily reaching out, barely pulling your hips closer to her.

It just so happened that the space between the closet and the bathroom was close to Mizu’s side of the bed.

“Let goooo, or I’ll be late.”, you playfully argued as the feeling of her grip loosened.

You hear her groan, slowly stirring away. As nice it would be to sleep in and cuddle with Mizu until the late morning, you unfortunately needed to lock into this class.

And unfortunately leave Mizu behind.

While doing your skincare, you feel a pair of eyes staring at you from your side. You wipe your face with a towel, hoping to find that it was nothing but an after thought.

Nope. Not at all.

You find Mizu half awake, lazily watching you get ready. You smile, ushering her to go back to sleep.

“Honey, I’m just getting ready. Just stay in bed.”

She nods in response, yet still continues to watch you prepare for the day. Today’s class was more formal than usual due to the 2 guests speakers. That meant looking somewhat put together and somewhat professional.

With some combing and styling and face beating, you were able to leave your hair looking put together, almost ready for a professional interview. The last part was putting on your clothes.

At this point, Mizu was awake than ever, now sitting upright, watching her pretty girl get ready for class.

“Need help?”, Mizu asked, hoping to help with a button or two.

You come over to the bed, half naked with only underwear and a button-up on.

“Do you mind helping me button my shirt? I really need to rush out soon.”

Mizu quietly sat up on the bed, now on her knees to be able to button your top, hiding away the small marks she had made the night before. As you zipped up the long skirt, Mizu places her lips, leaving gentle kisses by the nape of your neck.

“You look…”

A soft peck.

“so good and…”

Another soft peck.

“honey, smell so good.”

Yeah, forget about going to class to find the optimal spot. You were barely late by 30 seconds, arriving in a swift rush of adrenaline from a quick pre-lecture make out session.

modern!mizu ‘s eyes tend to wander a lot too

in public, it’s mainly small glances to your face, chest, maybe behind from time to time…

she thinks she’s slick, casually checking out her girl, making sure she’s all safe and totally not glancing for something… right?

wrong!

you’re aware of this too btw.

that’s why you didn’t wear anything underneath before a party one night.

it was the usual house party hosted by taigen and his brothers: loud, obnoxious, great music to deafen everyone to the point where you need to speak into each others ears just to hear one another

typically, mizu and you would arrive a bit early with ringo, help set up, chill in the living room, and then leave when akemi got too tired or bored

this night, the living room ended up being the epicenter of the party, forcing you to sit atop of mizu’s lap with nothing but a top and a short, flowy skirt.

it wasn’t too tight or revealing. however, when sat on, it proved otherwise.

You sunk into Mizu’s lap as she lays back on the couch, sitting comfortably atop of her, letting your arm wrap behind her. As you planted yourself atop, Mizu felt something otherwise. Besides the feeling of your side wrapped by her arm, a warmth started to ignite atop of her lap.

Mizu looks down, finding your skirt lifted towards her, and a lack of a panty strap. Or any kind of strap at all.

Flustered, she immediately flipped your skirt down, shielding your hidden secret away from others. With a free hand, she pulls your leg close, caressing up and down your thigh. You feel the ridges of her hand stroke up and down your thigh, inching closer to your heated epicenter. Although her hand strokes were soft and gentle, the latter hand proved otherwise. You feel her grip on your hip tighten, sending one clear message to you: she knows and loves your little surprise.

You pull yourself closer to Mizu, staying at earshot distance as the beats thumped against the walls, the yells and noise of the crowd blended into a white noise.

“Like what you feel?”, you whispered into her ear, slyly shifting back and forth against her pants.

No one but her noticed the feeling. Everyone else was minding their own business.

Mizu’s mind can handle pressure. It has worked well countless of times on the road, at school, against Taigen, or in any other dangerous situations. It’s totally not the most ideal thing to control when her girlfriend is being a tease in public.

Her grip on your thighs now tighten, attempting to stay calm. The heat of her palm keeps your legs together, safe in her grip. Her hand by your hip pulls you close, your ears now in range of her voice.

“Do you want to test me?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”, she scoffs, playfully mocking your response, “I’m not sure that’s the right answer, honey.”

You feel her grip on your thigh inch upward, practically centimeters away from your throbbing entrance. She then pulls back, tapping on your thigh as a signal to get off.

You stand up, carefully pulling down your skirt around the others who were too deep into n their own conversations, or too deep in each others throats. Right behind you stood Mizu, one casually placed hand by your hip, and the other more carefully gripping your ass check, giving it a firm squeeze before the leaving the party.

“Let’s figure it out back at home, hmm?”

after getting fucked out all night, i think you’ve learned your lesson with her

from getting fingered in the backseat to filled on the bed to moaning out her name as she ate you out, you promised yourself to never tease her that much ever again

unless you wanted to see god

modern!mizu ‘s eye contact during sex is intense

especially when you’re below her, taking her all in, she’s focused on observing your reaction

she can’t help but stare

and maybe the way your boobs jiggle is another factor too

You feel her eyes glaze down your body, ocean blue eyes taking in the sight of you getting fucked out by none other than a strap of hers. She easily penetrates you again, swiftly entering, lubricated by your liquids. She fills you up, her grip on your waist tightening from how wet you are, your cum smeared all over her thighs.

You groan out her name, grasping onto the sheets with every thrust. Looking up, you meet her gaze, orbs shimmering a light blue against the moonlight. She swiftly enters you again, fully enveloping in your throbbing mess, making your back arch in response. You feel her eyes stay glued to your body, as she rapidly sped up each thrust, further exploring every inch of your insides.

“M-Mizu…”, you moan as she continued to drill your insides.

“Mm, hon, you’re doing so well”, she cooed, cupping one of your boobs with your hands, her grip now loosening on your waist.

You feel her thrusts slow a little, as she gently began to squeeze the softness, her palm warming up against your hardened nipple. Her thumb caresses it, softening the surrounding skin with a circular motion. She enters you deeply, every thrust making the boob in her hand bounce without any handiwork.

Mizu curses to herself, still in awe of how beautiful you are as she watches your reaction, listening to every groan and moan hoping to milk out of you throughout the night.

modern!mizu enjoys waking up earlier than you

everything is at peace when you’re asleep

if you’re more of a heavy sleeper, she doesn’t mind watching over you while quietly sipping some morning tea

if you’re more of a light sleeper, she’ll attempt to slip away with without waking u up. if u do end up stirring awake, she’d tell u to go back to sleep, promising to come back soon

no matter how messy you may look, she likes the peace and quiet whenever she gets the chance to buy breakfast in bed for you two

either way, she’ll be quietly watching over you until you arise :)

[kazutora-kurokawa]

Simon Says, Fuck Me

♡ NSFW, fem reader, smartass!reader, oral->male receiving (more like face fucking lol), spitting in someone's mouth without warning, established relationship, reader can't stop interrupting Baji but Baji likes that about her, Baji is just straight up nasty in this one y'all ♡

Characters: Just Baji (my little arsonist)

note: this lovely little idea was given to me by my equally lovely moot @i-literally-cant-with-this

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

You were just laying on your bed relaxing. Your thumb lazily swiped across your phone screen as you scrolled through social media, when all of a sudden your boyfriend ran through the door, out of breath and panting.

"What the hell? Are you good?"

He looked at you and took in a deep breath before speaking.

"Yeah I'm fine! The real question is, do you wanna play Simon Says?"

"Really Kei? That's why you came rushing in here, do I look like I feel like playing?"

"Pretty please y/n? With black cats wearing cute hats on top?"

The look on your boyfriend's face was just too cute to resist. The way his little fangs poked out while he pouted was the kicker, you had no choice but to agree.

"Okay fine! Just out of curiosity, what do I get if I win?"

"Whatever you want. Name it and it's yours!"

"Okay, I can get down with that."

"But if I win-"

"Oh God, why did I agree to this?"

"Babe shush, I'm not done. If I win, I get to tie you up tonight~"

"Absolutely not."

"Too late! You already agreed, now lemme explain the rules to you doll. First off, I'm Simon-"

"No really? I thought you were Edward?"

"Y/nnn!"

"Okay I'm sorry, please continue."

"Okay so I'm Simon, I'm going to tell you what to do-"

"Yeah no shit, that's how the game goes."

Baji loved you wholeheartedly, but sometimes he just wanted to choke the hell out of you because why are you such a smartass? Nevertheless he continued with the rules.

"Yeah but there's a difference. When I tell you to do something, you have to do it. If you don't, then you automatically lose and I win. Got it?"

"So if I don't do everything you say then I lose? That sounds so unfair."

"If you're too much of a wimp to play then we don't have to."

"A wimp? You're tryna egg me on to play aren't you?"

"Is it working?"

"Unfortunately yes, let's just start the game please."

Baji mentally highfived himself before thinking about all the things he could ask you to do, he decided to start off slow and simple though.

"Simon says, touch your nose."

You tapped your finger on the tip of your nose, trying not to giggle at how serious he looked right now.

"Simon says, don't talk for the rest of the game."

You took your hand and made a zipping motion across your lips, signalling silence.

"Simon says, get on your knees."

You were about to say something before you realized that if you talked you would lose, so you once again reluctantly listened to your boyfriend and slid off the bed to get on your knees.

"Simon says, open your pretty little mouth~"

You looked at him as if to say "really?" before opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out. He walked over to you, admiring the irritated look on your face before leaning down and dropping a glob of spit in your mouth. You held back a gag as you felt his spit hit the back of your throat and promised yourself that you'd punch the shit out of him for catching you off guard like that.

"Good job angel! I really thought you were gonna fold on that one, guess I have to try a little harder."

He looked at you with a smirk that just told you how fucking cocky he is and how confident he was that you were gonna lose. His hands latched onto his pants, undoing them and whipping out his thick cock. You felt choked up just at the thought of him in your mouth right now, but you couldn't help but find how he was acting extremely attractive. The way he could take control of you so quickly made you melt and he knew that. He slapped the tip of his dick on your outstretched tongue, lining it up perfectly with your throat. His hands cupped your face before he gave you another command.

"Simon says, don't gag."

It was evident he wanted you to gag and lose the game by the way he rammed into your mouth, yet you didn't falter. Not when his calloused hands were gripping your face a little too tightly, not when he grabbed fistfuls of your hair, not even when tears threatened to form in your eyes.

"Look at that, you're taking me so good darling. You might just win the game."

He groaned as your throat clenched around him, and between a string of praises and curses he uttered one more command.

"Simon says, make me cum ♡"

If anything it was less of a command and more of a statement considering that he was about to cum anyway. You dug your nails into your thighs as you fought the urge to grab at him. Taking deep breaths as he shot his load down your throat, desperately trying to stay quiet. His grip on your face softened and he pulled out of your mouth. A mix of satisfaction and disappointment could be seen on his face.

"Well darling, I guess you win. What do you want as your prize?"

"I have a few ideas~"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, but first I wanna clean my face off."

He looked down at your messy face, and the grin he had only got bigger as he saw how you were covered in drool and some of his cum.

"Yeah that sounds like a good idea."

He helped you up off the floor and watched as you started walking to the bathroom before you suddenly stopped in the doorway of the bedroom.

"Hey Kei, one more thing."

"What?"

"Remind me to never play a game with you ever again."

He chuckled as you walked out, knowing that no matter how many times you say that, he'd rope you into playing another game.

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Taglist

@arlerts-angel @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katshimizuu @happy-trenchcoated-impala @kazubarbie @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies