#anyways if anyone wants to hear them lmk

[teriwrites]

The temptation I have to make a GoodReads account purely to tear Ali Hazelwood to shreds for her portrayal of T1D in “Love, Theoretically” vs. the fear of the intensity her fans have for her work and not wanting to face even a fraction of that

[wundrousarts]

I need to get back on my Jess interview grind and finish before Silverborn press starts up because tell me why I'm skimming one trying to find something and then realize she's talking about Ages. ACK! This is vital to my theorizing.....

[dullahandyke]

squints.... do u actually need a hard drive enclosure or is it just a box to make sure a hard drive is safer.... bcos i dont need this shit to be portable

[wings-of-flying]

so avi, when you gonna write that novel you're planning with those fully fleshed out ocs that you love and that world you've spent so much time building?

...

[catscidr]

// taking care of your dogboy (hsr edition!) //

i. note — sry i havent been posting yall i got a job + ive been working on three cosplays at the same time bc my local con is coming up lmao (´ཀ`」 ∠) however the brainrot never stops. it only takes a break. a little break of approximatively. a month. ish. ......... anyways dog hybrid hsr boys brainrot !!! lmk if we want more of this with more boys •ᴗ• comments and asks are appreciated hehe ii. includes — blade, gepard, boothill and gn!reader iii. cw — slice of life stuff turning into smut, possessive behaviour, overstim, slight dom/sub dynamics, real messy stuff, manhandling. use of the word "hole" to keep reader gender neutral iv. wc — 1,9k

blade is a mutt riddled in scars and dirty bandages from living on the streets and fighting to survive.

you think he might be some german shepherd mix, but he refuses to let you swab his teeth n gums for a dna test (last time you tried you narrowly avoided a punch to the face. he apologized in his own way afterwards), so whenever people ask, just say he’s a rescue to avoid revealing that you actually just… don’t really know what breed he is. they usually drop the subject and simply go on their merry way, seeing as he wasn’t the type of pup to appreciate affection from strangers anyways– it’s rare for you to leave the house in the first place, though.

you had to switch to a remote job because blade is just so persistent when it comes to you. although possessive is a much better descriptor, because he doesn’t let anyone near you. whenever you leave to get groceries he ends up practically breathing down your neck from how close he gets— acting as if he were your literal shadow— glaring at everyone that gets too close to you. you’ve made it a habit to always go to self-checkout lane so blade doesn’t scare off the cashiers.

the second you get home he’s all over you, determined to rid you of that outside stench and replace it with his own. you started packing your grocery bags in a way that nothing will break if (read: when) you suddenly drop them on the floor, all because you’re so familiar with blade’s impatience.

he holds you still by engulfing your body with his, knees caging your hips as he grinds into you, shallow and deep. blade’s growls and huffs fill your ears just as much as his cock fills your hole, his knot kissing your tightness from the outside.

“do you like this? like how i have to fuck you every time you decide to go outside again when you could stay here,” with me blade omits, his tail swishing back and forth on the bedsheets behind him, the sound just barely grounding you to reality.

your grocery bags were long forgotten on the foor (as they usually are), your mind too foggy to function. clawing at the sheets, you try to crawl away from blade’s grip— to no avail.

he tuts, craning his head to bite down onto the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. “i might just need to mark you for extra precaution,” he bucks into you, knocking the air out of your lungs. you hear squelching, the constant plap! plap! plap! from his thighs smacking against your ass and whine, broken babbles leaving your kiss-bruised lips.

“b-blade, y’can’t- ah,” he shushes you by plugging you full of his lengthy cock, his knot almost threatening to press inside of you. you whimper, feeling lightheaded from a mix of both nervousness and arousal.

he soothes the hickey he left on your neck, licking it languidly as he stills to bask into the way your hole throbs around him. warm and tight and oh so tempting.

“shit, wanna fill you. wanna… have everyone know they can’t have you. you’re mine, mine to love ‘n mine to fuck,” you’re not lucid enough to process his thinly veiled confession, too busy writhing your ass back against him in a feeble attempt to get him to continue moving.

you might want to invest into some good concealer or into those skin coloured tattoo patches to cover the bruises and bite marks blade’ll leave on you if you want to continue being a functioning member of society. you can’t really be walking around in public as if a dog had just mauled you right before you left the house, can you?

gepard is a golden retriever because of COURSE he is. similarly to blade, he likes to invade your personal space a lot— not because he’s possessive, but because he’s extremely protective of you.

the random bruises you used to randomly notice on your body faded as soon as he came into your life. gepard’s soft, lingering touches healed them; gently placing a hand on your hip before you bump into sharp furniture so it doesn’t hit you, redirecting your head to his shoulder as you nod-off in the train before you bang your head, and so on.

it’s a full-time job and he’s working 24/7, always on the lookout for anything that could possibly hurt you as you saunter off… wherever, without a care in the world— because he took care of everything!

he would clean the apartment for you, cook (though you usually insist you do the cooking; a human doesn’t have the same taste in food as a hybrid), and even act as your own personal alarm clock. gone were the days of being woken up by loud, blaring beeping. gepard woke you up with forehead kisses instead, making your mornings much more pleasant.

but poor geppie, he’s always taking care of you; so take care of him, won’t you?

every so often you’ll sit in his lap to help him get rid of whatever stress he held in his body. your hands will knead at the muscles in his broad shoulders, all while you simultaneously kiss away the strain in his face. his brows are furrowed as you do your best to soothe his muscles; you never forget to smooch his cheek, nose and the corner of his lips.

though the attention and gentle acts of affection always ends with your hands lower than they should be.

“ah ah, no touching, remember?” you murmur in his ear playfully. you had been at it for what felt like hours; gepard’s cock and abdomen was smeared with the remnants of his cum, skin tacky from his previous loads. your hand shows no sign of stopping, not even when he begged oh so sweetly.

“c-come onn. just… jus’ wanna kiss…” and who were you to deny your sweet boy? your lips find his in a heartbeat, his tongue swiping over your own sloppily as he breathes you in like a depraved man.

the only condition you had when you did this was for him to keep his hands to himself— at least until you both decide to move on to something else. until then, his fists clench the sheets beneath the both of you, and his ears stay flat on his fluffy head.

“i’m… i’m close again, g- aah, please, please…!” he begs, cock weeping precum as you continuously jerk him off. you smile, absentmindedly rocking your hips to the rhythm you held him prisoner to— gepard was too engulfed in the warmth of your hand to notice, anyways. “cum whenever you want sweet boy,” you purr, and he keens as he buries his face in your neck, his hips lifting off the bed ever so slightly as they meet your hand and he thrusts, riding the high of his orgasm.

sticky cum coats your hand for the nth time; you relent your grip on his cock for his sake, instead choosing to shower him with chaste kisses all over his face. gepard whines, taking ahold of your waist weakly as he breathes into the crook of your neck.

“geppie, your han-“ he cuts you off, swiftly switching positions so you’re now laying on your back as he hovers over you, chest rising and falling quickly, catching his breath from the intensity of his orgasm. gepard’s tail wags slowly behind him as his hands creep up from your waist to your chest just as slowly- you feel his cock harden against your pelvis, precum spilling from his pinky tip.

“‘ts my turn now,” he huffs, leaning down to nip at your neck.

boothill is the most obnoxious dalmatian hybrid you’ve ever seen (not that you’ve seen many, or at all). but he’s made your life so fun so you can’t be too mad at him

he’s always dragging you out of bed to go do something— could be going to the park nearby or sit in the living room playing video games on your dusty console, it doesn’t matter because he’ll MAKE you step out of your cozy nest!!

you’re glad he’s friendly, because you’re not sure how you would handle such an excited hybrid when you left the house. people come up to the both of you to chat and he indulges their questions, essentially leading the conversation (while you stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to say).

boothill is also great with kids, unexpectedly. 9 times out of 10 when you go to the park he ends up playing with someone’s child, bright smile on his face as he messes up their hair with a rough hand. they’ll throw a frisbee for him to go catch and he’ll do it happily, or he’ll even… teach them how to beat people up.

(you stare mortified as he teaches a little girl how to throw a proper punch only for her to then punch her parent when she leaves boothill’s side. you go up to them and apologize profusely, forcing boothill to bow with you.)

he also loves to help you out, even though he’s not the greatest at household chores— but he definitely tries! though he is a stellar cook, which never fails to surprise you whenever he’s on dinner duty. he just… really sucks at everything else.

it’s… mostly because he just has so much energy. he sweeps the floor? nope, he’s picking off the pieces of the broom off of the floor because he accidentally broke it. he’s fixing your bed? nuh uh, you’re throwing out the ruined bedsheets because he accidentally tore them to shreds somehow.

so, with all of these accidents happening because he’s just brimming with energy 24/7, you started purposely exhausting him. or, rather, gave him the green light to exhaust you until he tires himself out.

“booth-aah, w-wait, you’re being too…!” you fall over on top of his hard chest, keening at the new angle his cock reached inside of you. he repeated his assault on the spot that made you see stars as your jaw gaped, broken moans leaving your lips.

“don’t tell me y’re tapping out.. haa, already!” boothill grunts, his grip on your hips tightening. he throws his head back with a loud moan, abs tensing as he nears yet another climax— the 5th one of the night. maybe, maybe not. you lost count after the third one.

you bury your face into the crook of his neck, focusing on the feeling of his cock plugging you full instead of the soreness, the burn in your muscles that came from your knees holding you up on his lap.

watching you riding him will always be his favourite thing in the world, even if he always ends up fucking up into you and taking back control at the end of the night.

“gonna cu-uum…” you whine, clenching around his length almost painfully tightly, hearing his breathing hitch as an orgasm is ripped out of him in consequence to yours. boothill’s fingers dig into your ass, his hips lifting off the bed as he cums deep inside of your sloppy hole again, sticky fluid building up beneath the sheets.

you collapse on top of him fully, chest heaving against his own as you come back to your senses, slowly but surely. boothill’s ears perk up, hearing how your breathing had evening out.

“so… got another round in ya?”

[hatsukeii]

god, love's fuckin' embarrassing! / bsf!suna rintarou x reader

genre(s): fluff + a bit of crack, bsf to lovers, mutual pining, mutual DENIAL SMH, set in pre-timeskip second/third year, "love is embarrassing" x "love is embarrassing", suna lowkey is a sleazy heartthrob who just gets girls, fumbling his feelings in front of a baddie but it...works???

warning(s): dirty jokes, "suna ur a p3do" jokes and punchlines (he's not), and a kys joke LMFAO, also just INSANE/irrational behaviour from diff girls out of obsession/lovesickness because i have defs! met people like that... but other than those nothing! gn reader too i THINK if it's not lmk i'll fix it :)

wc: ~3.3k

tldr; suna rintarou swears he gives up, because love is just so fucking embarrassing. i mean, seriously, what kind of guy is placing all his bets on his best friend that he's definitely, totally, 100% not in love with? (he is.)

Suna Rintarou arrives at your house approximately fifteen minutes later than he agreed to. When he walks in with your spare key, you’re already on the couch, legs propped up on the armrest and back pushed into the plush seats as you scroll on some random forum. He takes aim, and tosses your spare key from the doorway, hoping it hits you in the face. You drop your phone at the same time, and it ends up bouncing off the case and onto the ground. 

“Asshole.” You yell from the couch while reaching to claw at your keys, just loud enough for him to hear, but not loud enough to wake the rest of your household. “You said you’d be here by ten to debrief. Was she that bad?” 

Suna frowns, something you, fortunately, don’t notice. You’ve regained control of your phone now, moving on from your forum to your photo album. Through the reflection of the television, his figure is blurry, but approaching. The fabric behind your head dips when he flips onto your couch, legs hanging from the headrest and head lolling off the seat. You finally find what you were looking for, shoving your phone into his face. 

“The scale? Seriously?...Solid nine-point-five. Not a ten, though. Redeeming factor was that she had big tits, but that wouldn’t have mattered anyways, because she’s fifteen.” You drop your phone on his nose. It slides off his face and onto the ground again. 

“Fucking gross, Rintarou. You’re so gross. This is why you can’t keep any girl for longer than one hour.” 

Pushing himself up, he plucks your phone from the ground, and tosses it onto your stomach. With the rate that he’s been going at, Suna doesn’t think he wants to keep anyone for longer than one hour. Sure, casual flirting is exciting. Hookups don’t sound half bad either. But the next time that Suna  catches somebody he’s never spoken to with a love letter in their hands, he swears he will run into the nearest vehicle. It’s not to say that Suna Rintarou wants to be a prude for the rest of his life, no, not at all. He just doesn’t want to spend half an hour chasing someone off his tail again, for the fifth time in his life. 

“Not my fault they think I’d appreciate them casting love spells and carving my name into their walls.” He glances at your grossed-out grimace, and nods knowingly, a nod that says yeah, it’s been that bad. “I’d rather die alone if that’s what I end up doing while in love.” 

You snicker, turning your entire body so your legs rest on the seats of the couch and your back leans against the armrest. Suna eyes your shirt up and down, frowning at the old, but persistent coffee stain that refuses to wash off. He doesn’t think he’s ever getting that shirt back, but he’s okay with that. He wasn’t going to ask anyways. “She was not in love with you, Rin. Stop being an egotist.” 

Something goes off in the kitchen, and Suna suddenly notices how his nose tingles at smells of burnt sugar and butter in the air. You hop off the couch, disappearing into the kitchen only to return with a bowl that Suna thinks might be bigger than your chest- your head. When you set the bowl down on the fabric between your crossed legs, and stuff handfuls of popcorn into your mouth, he sighs. There’s no running from this after all. 

“So? What’s the Mitsuki level warning?” You raise your brow expectantly, the same way that you do at every debrief session, which Suna never fails to show up late to. Thankfully, that usually gives you more time for the everything shower, because the sessions also never fail to carry on through the night, and into the next day.

Ah, Mitsuki, his recurring nightmare. In hindsight, Suna should have known better than to try anything with her, of all people. For fuck’s sake, she drew gore of pre-existing couples, and posted them publicly with pride. “Not that bad, my god. You think she was a villain or something? It was only, like, cried and told me that I must be in love with someone else level bad.” For the record, that’s not even a level 1 warning on the Mitsuki scale. You roll your eyes, mouthing booooo with popcorn stuffed in your cheeks and sticking a buttery thumb down. The horrors that you’ve had the displeasure of hearing about are enough to turn anybody away from love. In fact, they’re enough to undo the security of happily married parents, and an unproblematic friend group at school, and the fact that Suna Rintarou has been looking a little too decent recently. You chalk it up to him finally cutting the stupid hair short.

Suna’s hand invades the popcorn bowl, picking for the glossiest piece. He knows it’s in there, somewhere, the piece with the best butter to caramel ratio, the one that you always find before he does when he shares a bucket with you at the movies. To his disappointment, it is once again, gone. He settles for one that has enough butter, and pops it into his mouth. You throw a dry piece at his face. He eats that one too. 

“Keep going? I need to update my catalogue of your botched dates.”

“It wasn’t even a date!” You throw another piece of popcorn at his face, and this time, he chucks it back at you. “I agreed to show her around the area tonight because she asked, and I was assigned to her, of all the new first years! I didn’t think she would break down when I said no to hooking up now, did I?” You snicker, pointing accusingly at Suna and wiggling your finger. Then, you sign directions- directions he knows all too well from telling you too much about lovesick underclassmen whose feelings go unrequited. Out the door, to the left, straight for three blocks, take a right, it’s the blue sign ahead. It’s the police station. He claws at a handful of popcorn and throws it at you while you hold your stomach and cackle. 

“I’m gonna kill you, I swear.”

“Nah, you love me too much.”

“Bullshit, I don’t.” Any type of love is too embarrassing for Suna Rintarou to be in, whether it’s what his parents have, or whatever Atsumu has got going on with that foreign chick from “another school,” or if it’s throwing popcorn at him in his old Gorillaz t-shirt, which he is still, never getting back. “Kill yourself. I hate you. If you have one hater, it’s me. I’m your biggest opp.” Yes, of course he hates when you pull this shit, because it’s not like he’s glad that underclassmen ogle over him on the daily. How is he supposed to explain that firstly, he doesn’t want to catch a case, and secondly, he thinks they’re tainting the very concept of love by embarrassing themselves like that?

You put a halt to your mindless laughter and gasp, eyes widening and pointer finger shooting up in front of you. “Whoa there!” The feigned altruism of your voice makes Suna wish he was actually dead. See? No love here. One for Suna, none for love. “Hate is a strong word, Rin. You shouldn’t hate, you should love! Love thy neighbours! Love wins!” Popcorn crumbs line his t-shirt now, and Suna clicks his tongue, running a hand over the plasticky print. It’s in pristine condition, spare for the splotch of brown, conveniently placed in one of the four white areas on the shirt. You swat his hand away, throwing a coy smirk in his direction as you shake the fabric to let the crumbs fall off. He tries to wince, holding back the muscles in his cheeks from moving the wrong way and smiling, and a pained smoulder comes as a result. Better than a smile, especially when you’re prodding at him to choose love. That would have been embarrassing, and very, very hard to explain.

“Love does not win.” Suna turns on the television now, your muted reflections turning to colour as some reality show drones on. Oh look, it’s Love Island, where all the female leads are a little stupid, and the male leads are trying unnecessarily hard not to think with their dicks. “It’s sad, and half the time girls that say they’re in love with me end up running away crying because of it.” 

You hum, questionably. Is that what he thinks love is? Well, yes, it’s sad, obviously. Embarrassing too. You’ve seen it in the sappy texts that your freshly-dumped friends foolishly shoot to their cheater exes, and heard it in Suna’s many escapades, including, but not limited to being car-chased by Mitsuki onto your poor neighbour’s lawn, which they still haven’t managed to get fixed. Still, it always wins, because somebody else thinking they’re in love with Suna means that you get to hear all about them for hours on end, and then try to convince him that there’s obviously somebody better, or at least sane, that's around the corner, ready to love him normally. Not you though, because that’s, again, embarrassing. Although you admit that you wouldn’t mind if he ever asked. 

“I told you, Rin, they’re not in love with you. They’re obsessed, it’s different.” 

Suna shrugs, blowing a raspberry. He doesn’t think you know what you’re talking about, because if you ever needed him to, Suna Rintarou would undoubtedly lay his life down for you, no questions asked. If you ever wanted another shirt, he’d give you his collection, then buy you more if that still isn’t enough. He’d let you off the hook for snatching the best piece of popcorn in the bucket from him, and settle for the butter pieces with only bits of caramel on the edges. Hell, he’d even swallow his ego, and just date you if it helped you with anything. But he would rather die than hand you a love letter stamped shut with red wax, or push you up against a locker in the middle of school rush hour, and has never, in his life, wanted to watch you sleep through a bedroom window like Mitsuki has to him. Obsession, in the name of love, is sorely inapplicable to Suna Rintarou. Therefore, he must be romantically inept. It’s okay, he accepts it. 

“I don’t see a difference. How could you?”

Your mind blanks at his question, unsure how to explain to Suna that somebody screaming I love you! with a DSLR camera full of his photos, taken of him in secret, in places that nobody but he should know, is nothing close to love. When you reach for the coffee table and place the half empty bowl of popcorn down, you catch his expression. His eyes are half-lidded, glossed over, staring tiredly at the television. You almost let it slip that you feel a bit sad for him. 

“You’re kidding. Okay, give me a scenario, anything.” He hesitates, bouncing his leg up and down and tapping his finger against the seat of the couch. His eyes dart towards you, who are staring at him. He doesn’t look away.

“Alright, what would you do if you loved someone?”

In normal circumstances, you’d probably tell them, nothing. When Suna Rintarou is sitting beside you on your couch, however, it’s different. You think, looking at the ceiling to avoid any and all eye contact.

“Well, for starters, I wouldn’t try to fight their best friend.” You blurt out, remembering the black eye you suffered as a result of telling Mitsuki off for showing up at Suna’s doorstep in nothing but lingerie. “And I’d be okay taking a black eye for them anyways, it’s just not a nice experience.” Suna nods introspectively, looking back to the television. Nope, still Love Island, but it’s enough to occupy his scrambling mind. You continue.

“I mean, flowers are kind of embarrassing, and I kinda hate them, but if they wanted to give me flowers, I’d pretend to like them. Maybe try to keep them alive too.” By ascending the stairs to your room, you would see a single rose in a vase. It’s half-wilted, the water level decided with uncertainty a year ago when Suna thought it was funny to give you the rose from one of his secret admirers on Valentine’s day. “If they loved me though, they would know that I hate flowers.” See? Not love again, two for Suna, none for love, because Suna gave you the rose knowing that you hate flowers. 

“I’d take lots of consensual photos of them, anytime, and everywhere.” Suna knows that you have an entire album, filled with god awful, non-consensual photos of him. That means you don’t love him, which is good! Because he doesn’t either, even if he also has an album of unflattering, non-consensual photos of you. Suna’s favourite is one that is actually quite flattering, where you’re leaning up against the handle of a shopping cart, and reaching for a bottle of mayonnaise on a rack. Non-consensual, unbeknownst to you, but he thinks you’d like it if he showed you. “Keep them in a cute little folder or something too.”

“Are you sure you’re not in love with anyone? Because you seem to know way too much.”

“I think s-” Stopping abruptly, you bite your tongue before the next words have a chance to come out. “I think I’m open to it.” You stretch, and your foot pokes into Suna’s side. He grabs it, sitting closer, and pulls you down until your legs rest on his own, which are now bouncing uncontrollably. 

“Okay, good to know. What’s your type, then?”

Your hands reach behind your head, cushioning it as you lie on the headrest. “Someone funny. And sane. Good looking too, but that’s a bonus.” No, this is bad. It’s two for Suna, but one for love, because Suna Rintarou is sane. Love Island on the television erupts into a flurry of applause, and when the two of you look at the screen, two people are kissing. One of them opens their mouth too much, and it clearly freaks the other person out. “Oh, and somebody who doesn’t kiss like…that.” You nudge Suna’s chest with your knee. “What about you? First year freshmen?” He pokes the side of your stomach, right where the coffee stain sits on his t-shirt. 

“Fuck you.” His curses drone off, lost in thought. Does he want somebody tall? Short? Somebody who plays volleyball like him? No, that’s not it. He looks back at you, whose eyes are still trained onto the television. He thinks he should take another photo of you, one that he thinks you’d like just as much as the shopping cart one. It’ll be a lot of effort, trying to reach for his phone in his pocket with your legs over his own, but it’ll be worth it. “I just want somebody who won’t try to climb through my bedroom window at three in the morning.” Now that he says it out loud, it sounds like the bare minimum. “And maybe someone who actually wants me around, even if I’m not romantic or whatever.” You look back at Suna, and suddenly you’re putting every single person that’s ever confessed their love to shame just by being his best friend of four years, sitting beside him like you always have. Fuck, it’s two for Suna, and three for love. He’s not sure where the extra point came from, but he probably deserves it. “I think I just want somebody who loves me. Like, actually loves me.”

“What, you finally get it?”

“Yeah, I think I do.” Suna rubs at his gradually reddening face with both of his clammy palms. You smile, because you’re not sad for him anymore. Your best friend is finally starting to see that love isn’t being chased by a car, or being cornered with a letter, or even being kissed on the cheek by girls who barely know him, but somehow think they’re in love with him. “This is so fucking embarrassing. Oh my god. Love is so fucking embarrassing.” 

“I know, Rin. It’s nice though, I think, when you’re in love.” Your words drift off into the air of your living room, and although you're punching yourself in your head, you come to the acknowledgement that you might just be in love with Suna Rintarou. Love really sets you up to embarrass yourself, especially when you realise it at a time like this.

“Have you been?”

You don't nod, and his stomach drops, because Suna Rintarou is pretending that he wants to make fun of whatever comes out of your mouth next, but hoping for you to say his name. Two for Suna, four for love.

“I probably am right now, but who am I to say? I know nothing more than you do. People don’t even go for me, which saves me the trouble.” You shrug helplessly. If love doesn’t come your way, then so be it. There’s nothing more embarrassing than putting out more than you get, which is exactly what you would do for only one person in the world.

“They would.” 

“You serious?” Suna nods, legs coming to rest. “Proof, right now, or it didn’t happen.” It’s about to end horribly, and Suna Rintarou might never live this down, but he’s lost four-two to love, so placing all his bets on this is now obligatory. 

“Okay, go out with me. I’ll take you somewhere nice.” You freeze, sitting upright. Your body is still as stone, legs still on Suna’s, which are shifting so he can turn and face you.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He doesn’t miss the grin that creeps onto your face. It’s a good sign, he thinks. A sign that you do, in fact, love him back, one way or another. 

“Well, I’m funny, and I’m sane. That’s what you want, right?” Yes, that is what you want. In fact, upon closer consideration, Suna Rintarou is exactly what you want. Who would’ve guessed? Best friend of four years, like you thought, just around the corner. 

“You would be correct. And I want you around, always, even if you don’t like romance, which is what you want, right?” Suna nods, because that is exactly what he wants. 

“Okay, and you…actually love me, and are not just trying to see what boxers I’m wearing, right?” Your eyes dart between his own, and you think about the time Mitsuki somehow managed to steal Suna’s boxers after breaking into his house at three in the morning, before she was chased out and had the restraining order filed against her. No, you’d never stoop that low. Plus, you already know from shuffling through Suna’s closet for all these years, stealing t-shirts off of him. T-shirts that you still wear on rotation to bed, sometimes to go out. You don’t tell him about your friends asking you whether they’re your boyfriend’s shirts, and how you would respond, I wish, idiots.

“I do actually love you, Rintarou. Plus, I think I’d rather not see your boxers again, thanks. And if we go out, you’ll figure out whether you’re in love with me as well, and we can work with that.” The credits roll on the television, and it cuts to an episode preview. Suna looks at you, and he thinks maybe, just maybe, if you ever wanted him to, he’d show up to your doorstep, not just with more of his band t-shirts, but with handwritten love letters tied into a stack too. 

“Nah, I know I love you. We can skip the date and just get together.”

author's note:

watch me post this at 2am sydney time and then get annoyed when no one sees it because 2am is a cursed time for me.... JOKES i don't care because i loved writing this so sosoossoos much and im putting it out as soon as im finished but THANK YOU FOR READING TILL THE END!!! i have a newfound love for suna rintarou thanks to all the research i did on his character both fanon and canon he's so me frl i need to have a suna in my life ngl... I HOPE THIS LIVED UP TO YOUR EXPECTATIONS THO!!! genuinely one of my favourites that I've written thus far

anyways tags!!!

@chuuya-brainrot @zzwon @akaakeis @blvewave @kongkhoi @hiraethwa @kuroppiii @catsoupki @laughingfcx @tulip-room @fiannee @bailey-reeds @wyrcan @wishi-selfships

ok love u all bye bye until next time

[breadbrobin]

the trees

clarisse la rue x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of apollo reader]

summary: you have a very specific skill set that helps your team with capture the flag, and clarisse thinks it’s fascinating. in fact, she thinks you’re as fascinating as you think she is.

warnings: swearing, arguments, fighting, PINING, heights i guess (reader is up a tree), possibly ooc clarisse but not too much i hope.

word count: 2.5k

(so the brainrot has (inevitably) spread to clarisse. there’s gonna be a part two to this as well, so lmk if y’all want it (tbh i’ll probably post it anyway but still). oh and also i love her and i am a clarisse apologist and lover until the day i die)

(sort-of-enemies to sort-of-lovers, but more like idiots to pining idiots (in a tree))

(part 2 here)

———————————————

archery wasn’t the only thing you were good at, but it was by far the best thing you were good at. a daughter of apollo: master of archery, mediocre of music and magical at making weird ass noises. bird calls, animal sounds, imitations—you name it, you could do it.

and those were useful tactics in capture the flag, for sure.

annabeth chase was a master strategist, and you had to give it to her: she remembered everyone’s strengths, weaknesses and alliances while you couldn’t even remember what you’d had for breakfast that day.

as always, you were tucked up in a tree, around halfway up. you weren’t too high, so that you could speak and people wouldn’t automatically know you were above them, but you weren’t too low so they couldn’t see you.

you kind of liked being in the trees now. after three years of capture the flag and around six months of freaking out every time you climbed above ten feet, you were finally used to it. it was almost calming; a way for you to relax after a stressful day and pretend that nothing around you existed.

until the red team came by, that is.

that’s what you were waiting for. the flag was around fifty feet to your right. your job was to be a lookout and a distraction.

it was your favourite part of the game, getting to trick people and shoot arrows at them when they came too close, allowing the blue team members around the bottom of your tree to pop out and disarm their opponents.

it wasn’t a trick you used every time—not even the ares cabin are that stupid—but when you did use it, you had the time of your life.

there was a snapping branch to your left. you straightened up from where you were leaning against the tree trunk behind you and peered through the leaves. you were perched on a thick bough, hidden by leaves and branches, but able to see enough through them that you could do your job.

you could hear voices, but you couldn’t see anyone.

you listened carefully. you knew that voice.

you realised with a start who it was.

clarisse la rue.

fucking clarisse, man. she drove you insane. and not for the reason she drove most of camp insane. no, unlike almost everyone else, you were attracted to her. in fact, you were, annoyingly, in love with her, you’d have to admit. it was infuriating.

you could hear her cutting through the forest. it was strange. she didn’t usually come for the flag. usually, she hunted in the woods and caught stragglers. she didn’t want the glory as much as she wanted the fight. to her, winning the battle seemed more important than winning the war.

regardless of why, you could hear her voice. she was talking to her siblings below you, creeping through the foliage.

the sun was warm on your face and you send up a brief prayer to your father.

from your lips slipped an almost perfect impression of your blue team guards. you’d used this trick last game, but clarisse hadn’t been there, so she wouldn’t know. “i can’t believe they put us on guard duty again.”

they all froze in their tracks, looking at each other, then ahead in the opposite direction from the flag.

you held in a snicker. “ugh, yeah, it’s the worst. i mean, why can’t we do anything fun? i wanna fight clarisse!”

you could see the smirk curling on her lips and you had to stop yourself from blushing.

you continued this cat and mouse game. the ares kids below you fanned out, aiming to surround you. it would have been a smart move, if there was actually a flag there and not just a tree.

slowly, they inched in, then leapt out.

“ahh!! you caught us! i’ve been impaled!”

they looked around in fear and confusion but clarisse looked straight up. she always did.

“hey, angel, nice voice,” she mocked. “wanna come on down?”

you shook your head. “no, thanks, i’m comfortable.”

she raised and eyebrow, seeing your arrow drawn and pointed directly at her. “that’s not necessary.”

“isn’t it?” your arrow flew and, though she hit it away, you teammates came pouring out of the foliage, having been waiting for your signal.

a fight ensued. it looked like it was going well for a short while, then the tides turned.

they weren’t as caught off guard as they usually were. hell, clarisse was even smiling!

with what looked like very little effort, the ares campers effectively destroyed your teammates. they were left disarmed and defeated, and you were stuck in a tree. typical.

as her siblings took their weapons, clarisse looked up at you. “you wanna come down now?”

you shook your head. “rather not. the view from up here is pretty good.”

she muttered something to herself, but you couldn’t hear her. then she spoke up. “what if we come up there?”

you drew your bow back immediately and an arrow pierced the dirt right in front of her foot.

she looked down at it, then back up at you, an amused smirk on her face. “right, silly me.”

that surprised you. she was usually cold and cruel in capture the flag, always taking no prisoners and leaving no survivors—in a technical sense. you’d seen people nursing their minor wounds after the games when your siblings forced you to help out in the infirmary (not that you’re much help in there, but regardless), and everyone heard the stories they’d tell of clarisse appearing out of the ferns and attacking ruthlessly. so why was she not being so ruthless today?

she was certainly cruel in her fight against your team members, but any other day, she would have thrown her spear at you or thrown one of your arrows back, or even climbed up anyway. instead, she just smirked up at you, content to wait.

“where’s the flag, bows?” she asked, using a nickname she’d only used a few times, one that referenced both the bows you used and the bows you sometimes put in your hair.

you shrugged. “dunno. they don’t tell me anything. i just get out here and told to be annoying.” your traitorous eyes flickered to the direction of the flag. you’d never been good at lying.

and curse her, clarisse noticed. she always noticed when it came to you, it seemed. whether it was catching you in a lie, catching you when you were admiring her or catching your every move when sparring, she always noticed.

she nodded at her siblings and they moved off. “i’ll wait here. try and flush our squirrel out.”

if they were confused or surprised, they didn’t show it.

once they were gone, clarisse plucked the arrow from the dirt and studied it. “this is new.”

“sam from hephaestus made them,” you said meekly. why would she stay behind? it didn’t make sense. you weren’t a threat, or even a good fight.

her face darkened. “oh. and where is your boyfriend now, then? hm?”

your cheeks flamed. “he’s not my boyfriend.” and it was true. he wasn’t. despite the fact that he liked you and made things for you all the time, your heart was decidedly with another. and she was right below you, tossing your prized arrow aside like an old tissue. “he’s on your team anyway. you should know where he is.”

she smirked again. “oh, yeah. i remember now. that’s right, i sent him to try and get our flag. he didn’t even make it five steps before he was attacked.”

her bitter laugh made your heart clench. was it pity for sam or your feelings for her, or both? you weren’t sure. either way, it was starting to get on your nerves.

it was silent for a long time. she looked up at you every few seconds, then at the tree, like she was gauging how hard she’d have to push you for you to die on impact. her eyes were sharp and her smile was sharper, and fuck you were attracted to her.

you cleared your throat and broke the silence, hearing fighting off in the near distance. you would go and help, but the only way for you to do so would be to tree-hop all the way to the flag, and while you could do it, it wasn’t the best idea. “why did you stay h—what are you doing?” you aimed an arrow at her.

“relax, angel, we both know you won’t actually shoot me.” she was climbing up the tree. fast. “and don’t worry, i’m not gonna push you out or attack you. i don’t like looking up at you.”

call you stupid or whipped or whatever, but you believed her. you lowered your bow but didn’t lessen the tension on your string. she’d almost reached your branch when you swivelled around to face her. you moved fast, your arrow returning to its holster and you body facing the trunk of the tree with your legs swung over each side of the wide bough. your dagger was swiftly removed from its holster and pressed under clarisse’s chin.

she laughed at you.

you faltered slightly. “what?”

“nothing,” she snickered. “i just saw it coming. now scoot back.”

you dropped your dagger and shifted backwards, glad the bough was strong.

she clambered onto your branch easily, sitting facing you with her back against the tree trunk, a smirk on her face.

you sighed bitterly. “you see everything coming.”

she shrugged. “pretty much. but so do you.”

“that’s the gift of divine premonition,” you grumbled. it could be useful sometimes, but all you really got was a sense, a feeling or, occasionally, a single frame of a moment. right now, though, your senses were so clogged with her vanilla-strawberry and leather scent, and with her, that you could hardly think, let alone experience a minor prophecy. not to mention the fact that if you did, you’d probably fall out of the tree.

she shrugged. “isn’t that useful?”

“yeah, when it actually works or doesn’t make me pass out.” you shrugged. “it’s temperamental.”

she hummed in thought, leaning back and crossing her arms. her knees were mere centimetres from yours.

“what are you doing up here, clarisse?” you asked.

she shrugged, but you could see a shift in her demeanour when she said your name. it was like the muscles in her shoulders relaxed for a moment, then tensed again. “didn’t want you to escape.”

“so you let your other prisoners escape?” you gestured to the ground, where your teammates were sitting around fifteen feet from the tree in a circle, plucking the grass.

clarisse raised her eyebrows at you in amusement. “oh, i think they’re fine. they’re too scared of me to do anything, anyway.”

you narrowed your eyes at her. “i don’t think you’re that scary.”

she rolled her eyes. “sure. but everyone else does. so you’re wrong.”

“it was my opinion. my opinion can’t be wrong if it’s my opinion.” that was another thing: you were never one to start an argument, but by god would you escalate it.

“your opinions wrong if i say it’s wrong,” she huffed, her jaw tight.

“not how opinions work, babe,” you said lightly, using your dagger point to carve away at the bark beneath you.

she smacked your hand to stop you. “you’re gonna dull it!”

“the point is already dull!” you protested, poking your finger to show her. it indented, but didn’t draw blood. “see?”

“so, what, you threatened me with a butter knife? i’m offended.”

“it’s the idea of it that cuts deeper anyway. the primal fear of being gutted by a dagger. in capture the flag at least.” you shrugged, carving a wonky flower in the bark. “it’s more about threats than action.”

clarisse rolled her eyes. “and what if a monster comes and attacks you, and all you’ve got is this blunt dagger?”

“you ever seen an archers muscles?” you turned slightly and flexed your shoulders. you could see her eyes follow the sharp lines of your shoulders and back. “i’ll use force. force is more effective than sharpness. you know that.”

“and yet, my weapons are all still sharp.” she snatched the dagger from you and pulled out a whetstone from a pocket in her cargo pants. she began sharpening your blade.

“hey, don’t—“

she smacked your hand with the flat of your own blade when you reached for it, and you withdrawn with a hiss, shaking your hand. she laughed. “i guess force is more important, huh, angel?”

your cheeks were hot. “don’t call me that.”

“why, you worried you might like it?” she looked up, teasing. her eyes narrowed at the look on your face and then she grinned. “you do like it.”

“no. shut up.”

she laughed again, but it was a little softer than usual. she looked back down at the dagger. “did sam make this for you?”

“yeah, w—clarisse!” you gasped as she dropped it off the bough. or, more accurately, threw it off the bough. “what was that for?”

she shrugged. “it’s not that good. i’ll get you a better one from the ares stash. don’t worry.”

you glared at her. “that was mine, though!”

“it was blunt and poorly made,” she protested. “it wasn’t good enough for you.”

the way she said it made you think there was a double meaning there.

“he’s not good enough for you,” she said, softer, proving you right.

your eyes were wide and your cheeks were flaming. “what?”

“you heard me.” her softness was staying, it seemed. if you weren’t mistaken, her hand was reaching for yours. “he’s not. you know he’s not. why do you like him?”

before you could respond, a horn blew in the distance and cheering erupted from around the forest. red team had won.

clarisse didn’t look happy. she leaned back—you hadn’t even realised she’d leaned forward—and glared at the bough between you both.

“congratulations,” you said softly. “you deserved the win.”

“yeah, we did.” her voice carried very little enthusiasm.

you studied her face for a minute, like you were committing every feature to memory. “clarisse…”

she didn’t respond. instead, she swung her leg over the bough and started climbing down. only when she got two branches down did you begin to follow her, hurrying in your attempt to catch up. you couldn’t. no matter how good you were at something, she was better.

she nodded at you as she walked off, your foot caught in a tight spot.

once you’d finally got down, your teammates were surrounding you. some asked you what had happened, some accused you of being a double agent for them, some asked if you were okay.

you answered them all absently as you all walked back towards the stream, but your heart wasn’t in it. what the hell was going on?

you’d reached the stream by the time you realised you’d left your dagger behind, and you were back at your cabin, trying to fall asleep, when you realised that it didn’t bother you at all.

(part 2)

[b2cute]

nerd!matt x popular!gf

HCS/FICS??

NERD!MATT x POPULAR!GF

warnings: slight smut, cussing

a/n: first time doing head cannoned let’s gooo! lmk if u guys want any more and reminder that requests are open!

-

sfw:

• you guys for sure met each other in the school library. you were looking at books for an upcoming project and matt sat alone, during lunch

• you thought he was cute, instantly recognizing him from your class, and asked him for help to which his cheeks grew red, but agreed anyway

•the more you went over to matt’s house, the closer you guys got, eventually meeting his brothers and going on dates

•one time matt forgot his wallet when out at dairy queen and insisted on making up for it by kissing you until you forgave him, you were never upset and loved treating him, but his kisses were so innocent and sweet, so you acted upset

• matt loves teaching you new concepts in any subject, especially all curled up by your side. he loves when your sitting on the beanbag in his bedroom and he’s curled up on your side, glasses slightly tilted down, and a textbook in his hand

•matt’s favorite treat is seeing you do good on a test, it reminds him of how capable you are and feels as if he too got an A

•when around your friends, matt gets nervous that everyone will laugh at him, the way he dresses, and how he stutters, but you always reassure him with a quick “don’t worry, baby, anything happens i’m here to stop it okay?” your reassurance calms him down as his hand creeps up to yours, instantly interlocking them

•matt was completely wrong, your friends absolutely loving him. the guys teaching him how to properly take shots, and even showing how to smoke without coughing, all of them clicking even though they had nothing in common

•the girls loved the shyness and softer side of matt, the way he follows you around, and gets too nervous to make convo with another girl, afraid of upsetting you which you don’t mind. they enjoy having sleepovers with you and seeing the way your smile glows and your screen lights up with matt’s phone across the screen

•you got along with nick and chris as well, both of them teaching you how to tell them apart, and going out with you and matt occasionally. chris loved that you played video games, running the craziest match of whatever game is trending. nick enjoyed sharing a similar music taste, going to concerts together and sleeping over together, matt of course getting upset that your not with him

nsfw:

•begs for a release after studying all day. you guys managed to throw the books aside and have some fun. matt sits on the edge of your desk chair, you on your knees sucking and jerking his cock. “p-please y/n i’ve been good”

•gets shy when wanting to learn how to eat you out did the first time. he doesn’t know how to ask you without making it weird, so he asks as a math equation with the answer being, y= u4dinner.

•matt loves when you sit on his face, especially after seeing you at school, dressed in a revealing top and shorts. his eyes never left your body, leaving his hard in the school bathroom to jerk off to your memory. he will hook his arms around your thighs and sucks on your clot like a starved man. “just like that m-matt, so good to me mmghf”

•matt secretly loves when you let him take control. he craves your begs to cum and having you underneath him. matt’s favorite thing is the sight of your tits bouncing up and down when he’s fucking so hard into you, his glasses on the bridge of his nose and his button up halfway down.

•study session at the library when chris and nick are home quickly escalate when you steal matt’s glasses, but weirdly, it turns him on. you notice a change in his conversation and take him to the back where so one can see you guys, and ride him. “gotta stay quiet matt, c-can’t let anyone hear. you whisper but the only thing coming from matt was a string of groans

•when you’re on top of matt, he sits against the wooden headboard, holding your waist. his eyes turn to the side when he gets close, making your hands grip his chin so you can look at him “eyes on me matt, wanna see those pretty eyes when you cum”

•when a late night study sesh finally ends, matt is left exhausted, so you agree to let him sleep the night. what you didn’t expect is to wake up to his moans and cries to what looked like a wet dream. you laughed to yourself and snuck a hand underneath the waistband of his boxers, slowly pumping up and down matt’s length. his moans became louder and cries became whinier before releasing all over your sheets and hand.

•moments later matt wakes up to see your hand still covered in his release, lying on his bare chest and your leg lazily over his. your boobs were pushed together and your ass was practically out in your shorts, only making him hard again.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

masterlist

taglist:

@mqttittude @luverboychris @knowingnothingnoel @whicked-hazlatwhore @mattsdinosweater @n00dl3zzz @sophssturn @sstvrnioo @sturnioloenthusiast @lolasturniolo @mattsleftnipple03 @gracealwaysdisgrace @guccifrog @hearts4chriss @sttzee @stunza @fawned01 @sillysillygyal @skyslondon @stu2719962 @domaniquessidehoe @junnniiieee07

[pshaven]

APPLE CIDER lee heeseung ౨ৎ

synopsis! your new roommate, heeseung, seems to underestimate just how naive you really are when you catch him in a compromising situation. wc! 5k cw! perv!hee, switch!heeseung & switch!reader but make it competitive, voyeurism(??), size kink if u squint, male masturbation, degradation, praising, oral (m!receiving), grinding, riding, no protection (Plz wrap it), hee a FREAAKKK, creampie, unspoken aftercare but like barely??, hee calls reader baby, good girl, slut, i think that's it lmk if i missed any!

BREAK THE SKIN M.LST

previous > next

“jay, i do not have time for a party right now!” you complain, getting dragged by your best friend into some frat party. he’s been urging you to get your mind off of your living situation, as it seems like it’s all you can think about these past few weeks. 

thanks to your idiot landlord, he’s made some overlap in the house you’re supposed to be living in for the next school year, thus leaving you in the dust since the other tenant had a better credit score than you (you can thank your impulse purchases for that). so you’ve been crashing at jay’s place for a bit and you’re starting to get sick of the boy house smell, and have been wanting to get out as soon as possible. 

unfortunately, the odds seem to not be in your favor as it seems like everyone you know doesn’t know anyone else who’s been looking for a roommate. 

“yeah, but you said it yourself! you’re sick of… the ‘boy’ smell at my place. you’re not smelling it anymore, right?” he teases, using air quotes as the both of you arrive at the front door and exchanging a nod with the frat boy at the front before walking inside. you huff out a sigh, releasing your wrist from jay’s grip. he is right in some way.. you’ve been looking nonstop for some place to stay at and you do need a break at some point. 

you hear someone call jay’s name, approaching the two of you. “hey, jay, nice to see you!” they greet, and you excuse yourself because you refuse to stand there awkwardly as the two of them catch up. you make your way to the kitchen, seeing the multiple bottles of different alcohol brands lined up on the island and you scrunch your nose. you and jay never talked about who’s being the designated driver tonight, so you decide to be safe and just have something else. 

you find a cooler beside the counter on the floor, hoping there’s something for you to drink. bending down and opening the cooler, another hand invades your view of your options and you see that they’ve grabbed the last bottle of apple juice. you frown a bit, searching through the ice cubes to only find gatorade and lemonade left.

you stand up, shutting the cooler with a hefty sigh, a clear pout on your face that doesn’t go unnoticed by the culprit who stole the last apple juice. “oh, oops. did you want this?” he asks, tearing the straw from the carton and poking it in. as if he’s taunting you, he’s slightly shaking the juice in his hand. 

“oh, it’s alright. i’m sure i can just have something else…” you mumble, but offer a smile to him anyway since he was nice enough to offer it to you. 

he nods, “good. i wasn’t gonna give it up anyway.” he gives you a boyish grin, sipping the juice in front of you like he’s doing it on purpose, in the most menacing way possible. his words have you choking your thoughts, eyes narrowing at this ridiculous(ly handsome) boy in front of you, innocently sipping at his apple juice. 

“wh- you dick??” you gape, brows furrowing in frustration. your hands think on their own, reaching up for his juice carton and squeezing at the sides so that the juice goes to spill all over his clothes. and it’s his turn to gape at you, eyes wide and mouth open in shock as he comprehends what you just did. 

“morning,” you hear a grumble from behind you, a sleepy heeseung clad in plaid pajama pants and a teen titans t-shirt making loud footsteps towards you in the kitchen. you raise your brow at him as you turn around, holding a cup of apple juice in your hands.

“umm, don’t you have a ten am class today? it’s eleven,” you inform him curiously, watching his eyes still try to blink open from sleep as he’s opening the fridge in haste. he throws his head back, groaning loudly and proceeds to stomp on the ground like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

“you finished the apple juice?!” heeseung whines, lips forming a pout like you did that night at the party, turning his head over his shoulder to look at you. you roll your eyes, setting your half-finished cup of juice on the counter and sliding it towards him as if it’s your nth time dealing with this (it is. it happens every time at the end of the week). 

he gratefully takes your cup, chugging down the apple juice before licking his lips in satisfaction. he completely ignores your question, passing you to get to the sink to wash the mug. you turn your body to look at him again, head tilted to the side curiously as you watch his lazy hands scrubbing the soap sloppily on the cup. 

he’s extra sleepy this morning, and he’s usually not the type to skip his classes (surprisingly), especially not his important classes that impact his major. “are you okay?” you ask him once he finishes, setting the cup upside down to dry. 

heeseung pauses in his tracks a bit, blinking blankly before meeting eyes with you. “oh… yeah. don’t worry about me. just had a rough night i guess…” he mumbles, sheepishly rubbing the nape of his neck awkwardly. 

it’s a habit you notice that he does every time he’s nervous or when he’s hiding something. although the two of you have been roommates for over four months now and have a good friendship, bonding over your love for anything apple juice or apple cider, you wouldn’t think he would be the type to confide in you. 

“it’s all that gaming you do,” you reprimand him like you’re his mother, patting him on his shoulder before walking back into your room. he releases a breath he doesn’t realize he’s been holding once your door shut, leaving him alone in the kitchen. 

rubbing a hand over his face, heeseung does his best to recollect himself but his lower half seems to have a mind of his own, creating a clear imprint of his hardon through his pajama pants. he shuffles his way to his own bedroom, hurriedly shutting the door as he lays himself down on his bed. “fuck,” he huffs out, eyes screwing shut. not his fault, he tells himself; you just look too pretty in the morning, slightly ruffled up hair and not to mention your cute pajamas.

but he thinks nothing beats the outfit you wore to the party the night he met you.

all dolled up, putting in effort to the way you look but not trying too hard. he blesses jake for convincing him into going that night, or else he probably would never get a pretty roommate like you. you were so cute to him, eyes widening in shock at your own action when you had sprayed the juice all over him. sure, the stain never got out of his favorite shirt but you definitely made it up to him that same night. 

his cock restrained in his pajama pants only feel tighter the more he resists, a grumbly groan leaving his lips as he shamefully fishes his cock out. his hand begins to slowly move up and down, hips lifting off the bed from being impatient as he needily thrusts up into his fist. 

his breath starts to pick up when he hears you humming on the other side of the wall, presumably with your headphones on as you study or do homework. so cute, so innocent, you have no idea that he fucks his hand to you every night.

“god–” he gasps, fist speeding up as he pretends you’re doing it for him; soft and pliant hands wrapping around his thick girth– you probably can’t even fully wrap your hand around him. the thought sends him into a needier state, letting a whine slip from his lips before he captures his bottom lip between his teeth to quiet down. 

he reminisces about your pretty party outfit, simple yet effective enough to get him worked up. your small hands immediately reaching for his chest in a terrible attempt to clean him up, still shocked about what you had just done. the mere size difference of his broad chest compared to your hand has him reeling, imagining that you’re on top of him and discovering his body. 

he pretends his hand is yours, his free hand going underneath his t-shirt and scratching at his stomach but his dull nails are nothing compared to your pretty, manicured nails. he licks his drying lips, fist tightening around his cock as he feels himself get close. he muffles his voice again, having a bad habit of being too loud when he’s approaching his high. 

he moans into his hand, hips twitching and still slightly thrusting up to get the last bit of satisfying overstimulation. his cum spread all over his hand and shirt, he lets out a sigh, one of relief and shame.

he feels so dirty, so gross and perverted– what was meant to just be two people temporarily taking advantage of each other’s situation is going on for too long. 

“oh god, i’m so sorry!” you quickly apologize, hands wiping at his clothed chest to get rid of the juice but you realize you’re only making it worse. “fuck, i’m sorry,” you mumble another apology, but the man in front of you only laughs. you cock a brow, thinking he’s laughing at you. maybe you don’t regret squeezing the juice box all over him. 

“no, sorry, i–” he breaks out into another fit of laughter, slightly hunching over and you just don’t get what is so funny. you cross your arms across your chest, brows furrowing as you watch him collect himself once more. “damn. i don’t know someone who takes apple juice this seriously.”

you frown, “i’m not. sorry, i’m just stressed cause no one has a free space for me to live in temporarily, and all i wanted was a sweet box of apple juice but someone took the last one!” you say pointedly, eyeing him up and down with narrow eyes (in a judgemental manner… totally not checking him out). 

he raises his hands up in surrender, shoulders shrugging. “whoops! well you should’ve just told me that. then i would’ve offered to share,” he hums, flashing you another boyish grin. you think he’s lucky he’s attractive, because if he wasn’t, you would’ve been long gone out of this conversation. 

“wow, just ‘share’? that’s how you’re gonna treat me while i’m in a crisis?!” you exaggerate, eyes wide with sarcasm as you scoff at him. 

he giggles at you, enjoying how expressive you are.  “you do know you’re not the only one experiencing a crisis, right?” he raises a brow at you, grin still remaining on his face. 

the rest seemed to be history, him explaining to you that his dickhead old roommate just stopped paying rent and was kicked out so now he’s paying the entire floor and is in dire need for a roommate to fill in. 

it was all too convenient, it seemed too good to be true. 

heeseung is a good roommate. you had your doubts about living with a guy, especially after staying with jay for a while, you were worried the boy stench would apply to living with heeseung too. but since it was just him, it wasn’t overwhelming as long as you didn’t step foot into his man cave. 

he does his fair share of chores, like doing the dishes and taking out the trash. he’s clean in the shared space and has yet to ever make you uncomfortable or doubt living with him. but of course, jay has his own reservations about you living with heeseung. 

“what?” jay’s voice pierces your ears, his tone of disbelief and disappointment at the same time making you a bit wary. you shrug, giving your best friend a sheepish smile before you try to defend yourself. 

“come on! it’s a win-win situation? i’ve been looking for weeks! i need a place to stay!” you plead your case, folding your hands like you’re praying (for jay to not kill you). 

he scoffs, eyes rolling. “you do have a place to stay. here! safe! and not with a stranger!” jay reprimands you, finger pointing down to the couch the two of you are sitting on. 

you sigh in return, “he’s not a stranger! plus, aren’t you guys friends?” you suddenly question, brow raising up at him and he seems to be appalled at your accusation. 

“huh?? where did you get that from? me and heeseung are not friends. i don’t like him. he’s weird for asking you to live with him,” jay mumbles in the last sentence, eyes peeling off of you for a second as he looks at his fiddling hands. 

you find his sudden change in attitude strange, your best friend usually never gets shy around you to say what’s on his mind. nor does he ever get this heated about a choice you’ve made. “okay, geez. i just thought you guys hung out with the same crowd…” you frown, your fingers now nervously playing with the hem of your shirt.

jay makes you nervous. despite being your bestest and longest friend, he seems to always have certain reserves around you and it’s difficult for you to point out sometimes. you know he cares for you and vice versa– that will never change. but it’s hard to understand what he’s feeling if it’s not already written all over his face. that means it’s already too late, he’s been feeling that way for a long time. 

nonetheless, through all his protests and complaining that you should absolutely not move in with heeseung, he still helped you move in the next week. 

heeseung’s been nothing but good. 

until you decide to skip class one day, holed up in your room because you weren’t feeling well that day. you don’t have heeseung’s schedule memorized yet, since it’s only been three weeks since you first moved in. but you hear shuffling from outside your room, and if there’s one thing you discovered, it’s that heeseung is a loud walker.

the footsteps stop, but then a few minutes later, you hear faint moaning. it’s so quiet that you think you imagined it, but now your ears are perked up to try and perceive what you’re hearing. you swear the sounds go up a decimal higher, and you can pick up high-pitched squeals and moans from outside your room. 

your eyes widen, half of your face hidden underneath your blanket as you piece together the scenario. is he really watching porn out in the living room? it’s not that you’re judging him for watching porn, but out in the shared space that the two of you have movie nights and eat dinner together feels… dirty. 

but you suppose you’re not any better. the fact that heeseung is a few feet away from you, horny and doing god knows what in an intimate space that the two of you share.. your thighs squeeze together under your bed sheets. 

you secretly wish that the living room was closer to your room since it’s hard for you to really hear anything other than the porn playing. but then it suddenly stops, the sound from the video no longer masking the pants and moans of your roommate. he doesn’t seem to be shy given how vocal he is, probably because he thought he was alone. 

you can’t help but feel a little guilty, thighs rubbing together as your heated face stares up at the ceiling, trying to get rid of the visual your brain presents of heeseung stroking his cock, probably manspreading with his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut with pleasure.

you didn’t regret moving in with heeseung at first. now that you know his secret, you regret it a little bit. 

either heeseung has no shame or he’s really good at hiding it. he doesn’t seem to be affected when sitting on the couch together, indulged in whatever movie he had picked while you two ate dinner. you were a bit awkward at first, eyes wandering around the couch to look for stains, shifting as if you’re impatient to the point that heeseung had to ask if you were okay.

he’s impressively well at keeping things casual with you, like he’s the most innocent man in the world. you suppose you’re doing the same– you’re not exactly in the clear, listening in on him when you could’ve easily thrown on some headphones for the sake of his privacy. 

this went on for months, and now that you’re on month four of living together, you’ve almost forgotten about that incident… or perhaps you just pushed it to the back of your mind to not distract you. 

and while you think heeseung might be unintentionally a freaky pervert, he’s really quite the opposite. getting off to the mere thought of you possibly hearing him gets him worked up, and your innocent conversations you have with him the next day only gets him hot and bothered. 

the thought of you possibly knowing his “habit” has crossed his mind more than a few times, but he highly doubts it since you’re able to sit down and have dinner with him on the very same couch that he had just cleaned cum off of an hour ago. you just seem too sweet, too distracted with your difficult classes to even bother with him. 

but he likes to indulge himself, always imagining you walking in on him. perhaps your class ended early, and you open the door to find him jerking off on the couch with a picture of you from  your instagram on his phone screen. 

until the imagination falls short, and he hears your voice. his eyes open, hand halting to a stop on his hard cock and he’s faced with the sight of you standing in front of him, between his thighs. his throat goes dry, pupils enlarging as he cranes his neck to look up at you. 

his eyes follow your gaze– you’re not even looking at his face, instead you’re looking at his thick length, accompanied by his large hand and he thinks you’ve fallen into some sort of trance. but heeseung, too horny to even comprehend this situation, manspreads wider than usual on the couch to allow you some room. 

“go ahead,” he speaks after some silence, your eyes finally meeting his as he directs you to look back at his neglected, throbbing cock. you feel unsure, you feel like you’re possessed, maybe your horny spirit finally letting you indulge in your secret crush on your roommate, but you drop  to your knees, your hands going over heeseung’s own hand still on his cock. 

the size difference of yours on top of his is enough to make his dick twitch, his hips lifting off the couch with need. “fuck, c’mon, you’re looking at it like you need it. good girls like you always get what they want, right?” he says through gritted teeth, nudging his cock towards your mouth. 

his praise goes straight into your head, making your brain and lower stomach feel fuzzy. your mouth opens, tongue shyly going past your bottom lip and heeseung takes this opportunity to rest his tip on your peeked tongue, instantly hissing at the wetness. “s’cute, now take as much as you want, okay?” he praises, slowly guiding you down his cock with your hands still on top of his own. 

your lips envelope around the head of his cock, taking it deeper and doing as he says. your hands stay on his hand, starting to go deeper until your lips meet his finger. heeseung groans, resisting on bucking his hips into your warm and wet mouth. 

“shit, coulda’ just said you wanted all of me,” he mumbles, watching you start to get used to the feeling of him inside your mouth. “fuck– just like that, y/n,” he whines, barely keeping his eyes open but forcing himself so he can keep looking at you, cheeks puffed out and drool slipping from the corner of your lips already. 

you try to whine in protest from his words, but it only gets muffled with your mouth stuffed full of your roommate’s dick. he chuckles at you, his free hand resting on top of your head. “roomie,” he teases as your brows furrow together but he only thinks you look cuter like this, “don’t you know to not talk with your mouth full? where’s your manners?” he tsks, but gets shortly cut off by his own moans, your tongue working at his sensitive tip. 

heeseung curses under his breath, his hand on your head starting to push you down more. “since– hah– someone forgot their manners… i feel like i need to teach you a few things,” he hums, low-lidded eyes peering down at you. he suddenly pulls you off, strings of saliva attached from his cock to your wet lips. 

truth be told, he was getting impossibly close but he didn’t wait four months just to cum inside your mouth. 

he grabs you by your waist, hoisting you up onto the couch and laying you on your back. “now lemme just see how wet you got from sucking my cock,” he grins, but it’s different from his usual boyish smiles, it’s one that speaks he’s getting more than just a ‘look’. 

heeseung tugs your bottoms off, throwing them onto the floor beside the couch. he moans at the sight of a wet spot through your white panties, soaked to the point where he could see the outline of your pussy. “shit,” he groans, index finger prodding at your covered entrance. he leans in closer, tongue slipping past his lips and pressing against your panties.

his hot breath is enough to rip a shaky moan out of you, your hands unsure of what to do as you grab at a random couch pillow. he looks up at you through his lashes, pressing his tongue more against your clothed pussy to add pressure. you whine, a pout forming at your lips, “fuck! you’re so annoying,” you huff.

you pull your hips away from him, and he gives you a confused look until he understands that you’re just pulling your panties down in a hurry. he chuckles at you, amused in your rush to get fucked by him. he grabs at your thighs, pulling you back down closer to him. “what? you want me that bad or you just desperate for some dick like a slut?”

his words have your eyes widening, look at him still in between your legs. “the fuck?” you curse at him, and heeseung only laughs mockingly some more. “i think you’re the slut, no? jacking off in our shared space where i could walk in anytime,” you scoff, shuffling as you sit up on your elbows, “you wanted me to see you like this, right?” you taunt, your hand now pushing at his chest to lay him down on his back. 

“you’re the one desperate for some pussy like a slut,” you whisper, cunt hovering over his cock that’s laid hard on his stomach. you lower your hips, pussy meeting the thick veins of his cock as you begin to rock your hips against him. he gasps at the contact, hands flying to your waist as he looks down at where the two of you meet. 

“fuck–” he hisses, his own hips bucking up to meet your slow grinds but he feels even more desperate, feeling his cock twitch against his stomach and your wet cunt. it’s your turn to grin down at him, your hands on his chest keeping you up. “now you got nothing to say? not even a sorry for acting so innocent when you’re not?” you hum, beginning to grind faster on him. 

heeseung whines at the sloppy noises from your cunt grinding on him, the sounds so sticky and lewd that only makes him feel like he’s going to cum faster. “i’m–” he moans loud, his hands on your waist gripping tighter. “i’m sorry! fuck, stop, i’m close–!” he whines and begs, desperate to not cum like this on his own stomach.

you giggle as you lift your hips up, away from his cock as you watch him catch his breath, chest heaving up and down. you pout at him, a hand reaching to cup at his jaw as your thumb rubs soothingly at his cheek. “i dunno, i think you liked th–at!” you begin to speak, but your voice breaks when you feel a sudden intrusion at your entrance.

“fuckkk,” heeseung moans, his hands on your hips reaching down to your ass as he slowly guides you down his cock, “you’re so fucking hot talking to me like that,” he chuckles breathlessly, staring at your shocked expression as you feel the stretch of your pussy from his cock. 

you whine at the pressure of him pushing his cock into you, your chest meeting his after your arms felt too weak to keep you up. “oh my fuck!” you squeal, eyes squeezing shut as he keeps on going deeper slowly, inch by inch that makes you feel like passing out. 

“so good,” he breathes out, a hand leaving your ass but to grab at the nape of your neck to pull you into a kiss, a messy and sloppy one, but it also feels like he’s been waiting to do this since the day he met you. you whine into the kiss, tongues meeting and sliding against each other and he takes this as his opportunity to bottom out on you.

he swallows your moans, inhaling your scent, your lips, your everything as he stays still to let you adjust to the feeling of him inside you. you whimper as you pull away from him, barely catching your breath as you begin to rock your hips impatiently on him, causing him to moan out your name.

“fuck, hahh~! feels so good,” you slur, biting your lower lip as you grind on him, feeling your clit meet his pelvic bone each time that only makes your stomach tighten. he leans back more, his arms wrapping around your entire body before he snaps his hips up into you, making you take it as he maneuvers your body. 

you cry out, your cunt barely able to accommodate his size but the burning stretch makes your head feel blank as you bury your face into his neck, your moans sounding muffled out. heeseung groans with each thrust, your wet pussy making his lower stomach messy as your juices slap against his balls. 

“shit, you’re so fucking hot,” he moans out, hips beginning to get sloppy but it only turns you on more to see him become desperate for you. you put in effort to lift your head up, meeting your lips with his and the two of you moan and whine into each other's mouths, the entire living room echoing of wet skin slapping and sloppy kisses.

“ah– don’t stop! pleaseee,” you beg, your nails scratching at his shoulder blade and chest as you feel the knot in your lower belly tighten, threatening to snap. “fuck–shit, me too, baby, g’na cum too!” heeseung moans out, leaving wet, open mouthed kisses at your sensitive lower jaw and neck that only sends shivers down your spine, leaving you shaking as you reach your orgasm over his cock. 

“fuck, fuck fuck, y/n,” he whimpers, lips releasing from your neck as he throws his head back in pleasure. your walls contracting and pulsating against his twitching cock pushes him further into his high, his hips sporadically delivering you deep and fast thrusts that have you hiccuping as you moan. 

the two of you catch your breath, your forehead meeting his chest as you both breathe in silence, chests heaving up and down. he stays still inside you, his softening cock making his cum leak down the inside of your thighs. neither of you say anything, despite the soothing back rubs that heeseung gives you and your hand in his hair that is gently massaging at his scalp. 

the buzzing of your phone on the coffee table reaches both of your ears, and you shoot up from heeseung’s chest, sitting up straight and still on his cock. the both of you wince at your sudden movement from being too sensitive. “sorry…” you say quietly, bending slightly to get your phone. 

jake (project partner): hey. are you on your way yet?

you curse underneath your breath, slapping your hand against your forehead as you had forgotten about your project with jake. heeseung gives you a curious raised brow, “is everything alright…?”

you purse your lips before giving him a sheepish smile as you carefully lift your hips off of him, slightly wincing at the uncomfortable feeling of his cum slipping out even more. “uh… i actually got a project to do right now.. so…” you trail off, meeting his eyes and the two of you look at each other in silence for a good ten seconds. 

you slowly bend down awkwardly, grabbing your discarded bottoms and giving your roommate (that you just fucked) a small wave goodbye before rushing to the bathroom to wash up.

heeseung opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out as he watches your bare butt with his cum dripping out of your cunt go into the bathroom. he sighs, awkwardly shuffling his pants back on as he tries to pretend that it’s normal to fuck his roommate.

it’s normal, right?

[yenqa]

OH! MY MISTAKE | where you can’t for the life of you, remember to call kozume by his first name.

♫ — currently playing... april

warnings – an ankle injury (briefly went over), lmk if theres more!

pairing – kenma x gn!reader

wordcount – 1094

a/n – hi guys !! hope u enjoyy lmk if u do! also this is mot proofread so sorry if its wordy or theres any typos!

kenma isn’t the kind to make many mistakes.

there are times where he’s bound to make mistakes, like when he’s out of breath and messes up his sets a little, or when he’s been playing a game for too long and too many people are talking and the pixels are moving too fast for his brain.

those are the times where he can make the excuse if that he’s too tired. but even then, he still realizes his mistake.

when you first meet him he can tell you’re the shy type. he’s not stupid after all.

he can see you fidget with anything you can latch you hands on as you're introducing yourself to the team individually.

coach nekomata has that same happy smile that he always displays. he can see you constantly look back at him for reassurance.

when you finally approach him he skips to the most important part. he doesn’t care for the formalities, and he is sure you don't care about the wellbeing of every single person on the team.

“you can just call me by my first name, kenma.”

you were taken aback by his abruptness, you hadn’t even had the opportunity to bow before he introduced himself. his face remained a monotone look, it didn’t seem like he cared for you at all.

“oh—okay! what’s your last name, if you don’t mind me asking?”

he is simply oblivious to you, so he says, “it’s kozume, but i don’t like when people call me it. so kenma is fine with me.”

“it’s nice to meet you, kenma-san. it’s an honor to be the manager this year!” you salute to him, he can sense that every bone of your body is tense, and you’re too nervous for your own good.

“it’s nice meeting you,” he pauses, then adds,”don’t take this position too seriously, you’re new, it’s okay to make mistakes and not know things.”

he figures you’re the type to need reassurance on matters like that, he almost adds that you can come to him for help, but it might’ve come off in a different way. which was the opposite of what he wanted.

a warm smile blesses your face as you nod vigorously, barely getting out a “thank you!” before he walks away.

a small smile adorns his face when he turns around while he’s so blissfully unaware of his fatal mistake.

it’s at the next practice when he first notices it.

he’s out of the locker room first as usual. sliding down the wall, he sits down a foot away from you. you’re focused on something that he isn’t sure what.

you shift in your position, quickly casting a look at him before whipping your head back.

he sees you scribbling hard on the paper, then erasing it even harder. it’s when you let out a sigh when he decides to step in.

“are you okay, y/n? do you need help with anything?”

he usually wouldn’t help anyone else, but you’re next to him already, he tells himself.

“oh! hi kozume-san! no i’m okay—just finishing this sudoku puzzle my friend gave me!”

“i told you to call me kenma, i don’t like formalities like that.”

you can feel your cheeks heating up, as you awkwared cover them with your hand you exclaim, “i’m so sorry kozu-kenma! i’ll call you that from now on!”

“it’s okay y/n. just don’t forget next time, okay?”

you agree immediately, and it works for the next couple of hours. until he makes another mistake.

he’s on the floor before he knows it, he can hear the ball slam on the floor, but he can’t ignore the throbbing pain shooting through his body.

his ankle seems to look fine, but he knows he landed wrong after jumping for the ball. he takes his ankle and massages it, it doesn’t do much but he continues to do it anyways.

he can hear a group of footsteps run to him, but his vision seems to be tunneled.

throughout the many voices he can hear yours, loud and clear. “kozume! are you okay?”

he looks up at you, “kenma.”

the team all looks at him in confusion, a few mutters of people calling him delirious.

but you, you immediately get it, your cheeks turn a slight pink shade as you offer him a helping hand.

“sorry kenma! i’ll take you to the nurse now.” he gladly takes your hand. wanting to feel the softness of it forever, but you let go once he’s up.

everyone watches as he wraps his arm around your shoulder and limps to the door, once you’re at it you look back and yell. “me and kozume-san will be back soon! so keep practicing everyone!”

it’s been four months, but still you can’t seem to get over your habit.

many things have changed over the past few months, one being that you and kenma have been dating for two of those months.

though that habit seemed to stick with you even as time went on.

“kozume!” you exclaim, wrapping your arms around him.

a small chuckle escapes his lips, he wraps his arms around you. “you’re still forgetting to call me kenma, y/n.”

“old habits die hard,” you giggle, “oh! also—you’re late for practice! tetsurou was spamming your phone with calls, did you forget?”

over time, you’ve grown much more comfortable with him, as he had with you. even though at the time his ankle seemed to be the worse thing that ever happened to him, it also happened to be the catalyst of your relationship.

he’s grateful for landing wrong fore without that small flap of a butterflies wing, he wouldn’t have memorized the shape of your lips, or the sound of your laugh, or the small moles adorning your face.

“wait—tetsurou?”

you let out a breathy laugh, “yeah he told me to call him by his first name! you don’t mind, do you?”

“you remembered to say his first name but not mine?”

“kodzu-ken i mean. i think kozume is cute! it rolls off the tongue better. i’m sorry!” you raise your hands in defeat, but he’s already walking ahead of you to practice.

you chase after him, “kodzu—kenma wait!”

planting a kiss on his cheek, you take his hand, skipping happily to practice dragging him behind.

“kozume skip with me!”

“i’m not doing that.”

kenma hates the formality of when someone calls him kozume instead of kenma, but with the way his name sounds when you say it, he can’t find it in himself to mind.

yenqa © do not copy, steal or translate.

[itoshiexx]

blossoming love

synopsis: sae is not good with words, so he communicates with flowers instead. / or, every time itoshi sae gave you a bouquet in significant moments.

pairing: itoshi sae x gn!reader | words: 2.9k | warnings: fluffy fluff, tiny bit of angst if u squint, rin and sae’s relationship isn’t fucked up, kinda proofread, ooc sae maybe? i love him tho, its really just three thousand words of him talking about love

notes: this idea has been on my mind for a while since i adore the language of flowers, and even tho sae is probably ooc, i really liked the final result ♥ also i'm trying a new layout so lmk if y'all like it~ and finally thank u so much for 2.5k followers, i love you all sm!!

masterlist

i. sunflowers for a confession

never has itoshi sae been so painfully aware of his flaws and limitations quite like the day he realized he liked you as more than a friend. because, even though he wasn’t the type of guy to wait for the universe to give him everything he wished for, anyone within three miles could see how absolutely awful he was at communicating.

so that was the dilemma: how could he express his feelings to you if the words just didn’t come out?

“flowers.”

“huh?”

rin was sitting at the couch in their parent’s home, a paused horror movie on the tv. sae didn’t even notice he started mumbling and spilling his secret crush to the younger itoshi, and the tips of his ears went red at that. he was supposed to be the smooth, suave, aloof kind of guy that gave his little brother some love advice, and not the other way around.

(not as if any of them had some kind of experience. emotional intelligence didn’t really run in the bloodline.)

“just give them flowers, nii-chan. did you know each of them has meanings? it could help you express yourself.”

“you mean like… the language of flowers or some shit?”

rin rolled his eyes, but nodded.

“just try not to use ‘some shit’. i don’t think they’re into that,” he joked, and sae could only grimace and send him the middle finger.

but as much as he didn’t want to admit, his brother was right. you were special, and you deserved the best he could give — even if it wasn’t much. he was going to learn how to be better for you, but meanwhile, the language of flowers should suffice. 

the first time you receive a bouquet from itoshi sae, they are beautiful blooms of sunflowers, expressing his adoration towards you. the small card that comes with it has a simple question:

go out with me?

ii. white gardenias and the start of something new

your first date with the pro-footballer is something simple yet sophisticated, a dinner at a famous restaurant he rented just for you two. the dim lights make everything more romantic, and your heart is beating so loud you’re afraid sae might hear it from the other side of the table. despite the euphoria that leaves you nearly breathless, you manage to talk during the night while he mostly just listens.

itoshi sae is not familiar with dates — not actual ones, at least —, so to say he was nervous was an understatement. however, he hid it well behind his nonchalant persona, even if meant avoid talking just so he didn’t fuck things up. 

sae was never a talker, anyway. and it was long ago he figured he’d rather listen to the sound of your voice and drown in the image of your sparkly eyes every time you were excited about something. 

when dinner is over and sae drives to drop you home, you’re a little shocked to see him take another flower arrangement from the floor of the backseat, just hidden enough so you didn’t notice during your ride. the petals are a pure white color with beautiful twirls, and you can’t help but gape.

“is that… is that for me?”

sae wants to scream, because of course they are for you — who else could they be for? as if he’d ever look at anyone when you’re the brightest light shining on his life.

inevitably, you’re all itoshi sae can see.

“they are gardenias,” he simply says, fighting the heat that climbs through his neck. he pushes the bouquet a little more towards you. “they made me think of you.”

your chest swells with affection, and the sweet aroma of the blooms mixed with sae’s perfume makes you a little dizzy. you only realize how close he is when his nose touches yours, hands grazing your left cheek as if you’re something fragile that he’s scared to break.

but he kisses you anyway. his mouth is delicate against yours, trying to convey his longing as a complement to the flowers on your hold.

when your lips part and you finally say goodbye, you’re certain that sae has blossomed an entire garden in your heart. starting with the white gardenias that mean new beginnings, affection and a revelation of a secret love. 

iii. blue hyacinths for an apology

sae knows how much of an asshole he can be. contrary to popular belief, he knows how sharp his words can feel and how mean his voice can sound. even if he wasn’t exactly self aware, his brother rin would sure be able to spit it to his face every time they argued. 

it wasn’t like he always meant it. sure, he didn’t care about his behavior towards the media or people he found particularly annoying (pretty much everyone), but there were people in his life that he cherished; people he didn’t want to hurt. the thing is, itoshi sae was just really, really awkward when it came to his own emotions, and he was the worst at saying how he felt. 

it’s a few months into your relationship that sae learns he would rather never play football again than make you cry. it’s a silly argument, really — he doesn’t even remember what he gets so worked up for. maybe it’s jet lag that makes him lash out on you, but it doesn’t really matter when he sees your eyes glisten and a little sniffle comes out of your lips.

“i’m s-sorry,” you say, uneasy in a way that makes his stomach churn. he wants to wipe that expression off your face, and beat himself up for being the one who put it there. 

him and his stupid ass mouth, as rin would say.

“what? why are you saying that?” his tone is more exasperated than he intends to, and god, why can’t he just shut the fuck up?

“i didn’t mean to annoy you or make things harder… i know you’re tired from your game and i… i’m sorry, sae.”

he should be the one apologizing for being an idiot, he knows; but the words are so foreign to his system that sae doesn’t even know how to put the letters together. it’s only when you pick up your stuff and leave his apartment without another word that the pro-player is shaken out of his stupor.

“fuck,” he curses under his breath. “fucking hell, sae.”

he hates that he hurt you, hates that he doesn’t know how to fix it and hates it even more that his little brother lectures him on the phone later that day, when he calls to vent.

“you already were a shitty brother, so don’t be a shitty boyfriend too,” are rin’s exact words. 

okay, ouch. kinda stings, but he figures he deserves it.

it’s almost 9pm when sae goes to your house, two bags of your favorite treats resting on his forearm while he holds the carefully chosen bouquet. the surprise on your face when you open the door makes his heart reel, though the glimmer of happiness is what makes it all worth it.

“i messed up”, is what he says as soon as he can before you decide to kick him out. “i didn’t mean to snap at you like that and… i’m sorry. i never want to hurt you.”

you take the blue hyacinths from his grasp and look at them fondly before smiling, and sae thinks the sun is shining again. he’s eternally grateful you understand the sincerity and the regret that comes from those tiny petals.

iv. red roses and the epiphanic awareness of love 

journalists from all around the world are well aware of how much itoshi sae hates interviews. it is always pretty clear with the bored — if not extremely annoyed — expression on his face and the rude answers that make anyone break a cold sweat. he doesn’t like stupid questions (all of them) and much less when the press tries to meddle in his personal business. 

it wasn’t new to be asked about his romantic relationships, and this particular topic was something that made sae scowl and diss whatever nosy, lukewarm journalist decided to pry to earn a penny. by now, everyone knows that inquiring if the midfielder is dating anyone is forbidden territory.

still, the media keeps trying to find small loopholes in what they really want to know, questions safe enough to not enrage the itoshi. it’s one of those that makes sae’s world come to a halt in the middle of a press conference in italy.

“itoshi, can you tell us about the things you love most in life?”

his brain instantly shuts down, and suddenly, sae is no longer in a room with hundreds of microphones and cameras shoved on his face, but instead in a cozy little picnic at the beach with you by his side.

if he was being honest, sae never really thought about things like love for most of his life; and not just the romantic one, but love as a whole. sure, he knew he loved his parents and his little brother, but they were parts of his life he didn’t choose, almost as if those feelings were meant to be there ever since he was born.

thinking about his life growing up, he could never really tell if what he felt was ‘love’ or just ‘like’. did he love soccer? did he love salted kombucha tea? did he love the beach? or were all these things temporary fulfillments that could end at any minute? this feeling was such a difficult concept for sae that he never bothered to actually search for answers. 

but you’ve been dating for seven months now — and sae simply knows, as a universal truth written down his bones, that the feelings he has for you are too otherworldly to fit inside the mere perception of ‘like’. liking you doesn’t do justice to the way his heart leaps and his chest is filled with happiness and peace and anxiousness and euphoria all at once whenever he thinks of you.

it’s the strangest epiphany of the century, he thinks, but that is the exact moment itoshi sae is sure you are the sole definition of love. 

he loves you. he loves you the most in life.

and even if life is hard, because the world always is, loving you amongst this chaos is the easiest thing sae has ever done.

so when he comes back from his trip and you stay over at his penthouse, he tries to demonstrate this overflowing feeling when he touches you and kisses you and makes you fall apart just to put you back together. and when the morning comes and you paddle to the kitchen for breakfast, he is there holding the prettiest bunch of classical red roses with the faintest blush on his face. 

you’re beautiful even with your unruly hair and bleary eyes, and sae is certain he will never get tired of seeing you smile for him. 

with his throat clogged with emotion, the words don’t come out. but you take the flowers in your gentle embrace and kiss him with such fondness and infatuation that he can’t help but wish you understand the deep, unconditional love he feels for you.

“i love you too, baby.”

and thankfully, you always do.

v. pink camellias for longing

longing wasn’t a feeling sae was particularly used to. 

when he left japan at the ripe age of 14, the first few months were especially harsh, since he was in a foreign country with a totally different language and culture. sae found himself missing the place he grew up, not so much for the place itself, but for the comfort its familiarity could bring. he missed rin, too. 

but as time passed and itoshi sae transformed, he stopped viewing japan and everything it had as his home, solely becoming a wandering soul in the big, cruel world. the athlete, then, longed for nothing but to be the best. 

however, he realized that life as he knew would never be the same after falling in love with you, for those feelings were strong as tidal waves, all-consuming and capable of changing everything in its course. 

everytime he was away, sae really fucking missed you.

“how long will you be gone for?”

even before he left. 

“…a month.” 

his voice is low and slightly hesitant. you’re together on the living room couch, watching a shitty rom-com movie that sae hates but always watches because it’s your favorite. his arms are around you while your back rests against his chest, and he feels a little dizzy — whether it’s from your sweet perfume or the fear inside of him, he doesn’t quite know.

though he will never admit it, the midfielder is always scared whenever he has to leave for longer periods of time. because what if you get tired of him? what if you start feeling so alone and neglected you end up hating him? the thought alone is enough to make him want to throw up. 

you turn around to face him, and the little pout of your lips suddenly has him feeling sick. 

“so long? you really have to?”

he sighs, because yeah, unfortunately, he does have to stay that long to follow the team along the season. even if he’d rather stay with you and just fly near game days.

“yeah. i’m sorry, mi amor.”

sae lets you turn around fully and adjust yourself on his lap, each leg sitting comfortably around his hips. both of his hands are immediately holding on your waist, as if afraid you’d disappear if he didn’t. 

“don’t apologize, handsome. i know it’s your job. i’m just gonna miss you a lot.”

he has the urge to kiss your sullen look away, and it’s exactly what he does. his lips touch yours with the same tenderness they always do, but there’s a certain urgency in the way his mouth moves and his tongue carefully glides with yours, as if he’s trying to convey just how much more he will miss you.

because although no one would ever believe him, he always misses you more.

“i wish i could stay here with you,” he says when you part, and the little bashful smile you give him makes his heart soar. 

“but you love what you do, though.”

yeah, but i love you more. the thought is something that has been plaguing his mind during the nearly two years you’ve been together, because sae never expected to have something — or rather someone — who would become his entire world quite like how you do. it’s frightening and dreadful and not what he wished for himself, but sae can’t say that he hates it. there’s nothing about you or the gentleness of your love that he can hate.

that’s why when the time of his trip comes, a beautiful bouquet of pink camellias is placed on your kitchen island, and you know it’s his way of showing his longing for you.

vi. amaranthus and the promise of forever

even if many people disagree, sae knows he is always right. it’s how he knew you were the one even before he had you, and more so even before he realized he wanted you. somehow, it’s always been a truth his mind couldn’t ignore.

it’s on a lazy sunday morning at your shared apartment that itoshi sae is taken by a sudden urge of asking you to marry him. 

there’s nothing extraordinary about the scenery; just you making him a snack after waking up from your — now shared — 3pm nap, hair tied in a bun, swaying your hips while stirring the food on the frying pan. he hugs you from behind and rests his head on your shoulder, nosing at the crook of your neck in an attempt to absorb all that you are. you giggle with the ticklish feeling, and the warmth that spreads through his chest somehow doesn’t feel weird anymore.

somehow, it’s now something he deeply cherishes. sae can only describe being with you as pure bliss.

and he’s always been selfish, a true egoist to its core. it’s why he’s faced with his deepest desire to have the honor of spending a lifetime by your side, if only you’ll have him.

he’s had the ring for a while now, hidden behind several socks in his drawer. it might as well be the time, he thinks; a lazy sunday afternoon that has nothing grandiose. sae was never one for big gestures anyway.

so when you both finish eating, sae tells you he’ll be out for a jog, and you just hum with your pretty smile. his heart is beating abnormally fast when he goes to the flower shop, and by the time he’s back home, he thinks it might just explode.

but this… you are it for him, he’s certain. the same way he was certain four years ago, when your love started to blossom until it became the prettiest garden.

and when sae is down on one knee asking the most important question of his life, ring box in one hand and the bouquet of amaranthus on the other, the teary smile and whispered “yes” you give makes him certain that, no matter what, your love will be eternal.

© 2024 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

[1427]

something to prove

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Every time your mom goes down to the city with Merle she lets Daryl stay behind and watch TV. The night your boyfriend breaks up with you, you decide you have something to prove. 

Warnings: Very vaguely implied drug use, age-gap (reader is 20, Daryl is mid30’s), smut, voyeurism/exhibitionism, masturbation (both m & f), idk there’s something else that happens but idk how to tag it (premature ejaculation???), preTWD!Daryl.

Word Count: 3k

A/n: this is a two part story, possibly three? This started out as a step-dad!daryl idea but I reworked it because not everyone’s as big of a pervert as I am. If anyone wants step-dad imagines (au or otherwise for Daryl, or Negan) lmk. 🥵😈

17+ mdni

\\part 2\\

masterlist

“Who are you?” You ask, to the man standing in your house. Well, your moms house, certainly wasn’t his house. He looked like one of your moms friends from the bar. 

“Shit, who are you?” He looks at you, more confused than you are. Scared almost. 

“Mona’s kid?” You explain, who else would you be? 

“Oh, shit. Didn’t know Mona had a kid. She just left you here?” You look at him like he’s still a stranger standing in your living room. 

“I’m 20.” You watch as he sighs a little in relief. 

“Right…. I’m Daryl. Uh. Her and my brother took a ride down to the city. Didn’t wanna go, she said I could hang here.” 

“Of course she did,” you say to yourself with a sigh. 

Daryl watches you as you run to the kitchen and grab a snack and run back toward the stairs, “Well. I’ll be in my room.” 

“Wait! Uh.. where’s the remote?” 

You sigh, with a smile this time, and step backward down the first step. You walk past him and dig your hand into the recliner that’s facing directly in front of the TV, pulling the remote from its hiding spot. As you walk back toward the stairs you put it to his stomach, and he takes it with both hands. “Thanks” you hear him say, and then you’re gone. Running up the stairs to lock yourself in your room. 

✨🚬

Daryl and Merle came over a lot after that. You didn’t see too much of them, when you’re mom had company you knew it was best to stay locked in your room. Not like you’d want to be around her company anyway. 

Daryl seemed different than Merle. Everytime you did venture out of your room for a snack, or to leave the house to go see your boyfriend, and you had to interact with things outside of your room, Daryl never spoke. Honestly, it seemed to you like he didn’t even want to be there. 

And every time your mom and Merle go down to the city, Daryl stays back and watches TV and smokes cigarettes in the living room. Never does anything else. 

You start developing a crush. And you know it’s insane because he’s so much older than you, but you can’t help it. You never thought you’d see someone older like that, but to be fair he didn’t look it. He definitely wasn’t as old as your mom. Probably mid 30’s? Probably. You couldn’t ask. And there was something about him. Brooding, quiet, but… safe. He never bothered you, never looked at you too long like most of your moms friends did. He seemed.. sweet. 

You start praying they’ll come over, and then you pray that your mom and Merle will leave. Sometimes they’re only gone for half an hour, sometimes they’re gone all night. No matter how long they’re gone, though, you always go down and see Daryl. 

You never really talk to him more than a few passing words, even when it becomes a more common occurrence. 

Obviously you try to look as good as you can when you do go down there to walk in front of him. You stand awkwardly by the kitchen island, pretending to watch tv, trying to say something. Usually you can’t come up with anything. 

You find yourself wearing more and more revealing clothing, trying to get him to look, but you never catch him looking. And, honestly? It frustrates you to no end. 

Why won’t he look? 

It’s starting to make you a little crazy, multiple times you’d had to stop yourself from coming down in just a towel.

And then your boyfriend breaks up with you. Probably better off, but the night that it happens you lose it. You’re not heartbroken necessarily, but you are pissed. And you feel like you have something to prove. And all of it bubbles up into something you normally would never see yourself doing. 

You come downstairs this time in only an oversized teeshirt. No underwear. Its dark, all the lights off, it is 2am, but for some reason you weren’t expecting it. It should make what you have planned even easier. Less awkward. 

Instead of going to the kitchen you walk right up to Daryl and put your hand out for the remote. “I wanna watch TV.” 

He looks up at you. Finally. And he hands you the remote. “Alrigh’.” 

You change the channel to something else, doesn’t matter what as long as it’s not what he was watching. You settle on an old movie, looked just boring enough. You lay down on your stomach in front of where Daryl sat in the armchair, your teeshirt riding just barely up your ass, just enough for Daryl to be distracted by it. To notice it. To ask himself if you weren’t wearing any underwear. 

You hear him take a deep breath from behind you and it makes you smile. Finally. 

And you stay like that for a while, absentmindedly looking at the TV, not really watching it. Daryl’s watching you through half lidded eyes. Before you’d come downstairs Daryl was a good five minutes from falling asleep in that arm-chair. But now? His heart hammering in his chest, he has to control his breathing in the quiet living room, to not tip you off that you were affecting him so much. He wasn’t sure what you were doing, or if you were even doing it on purpose. But you’re 20, right? Surely… he figures you have to know. 

But if you know what you’re doing, than you’re expecting some kind of reaction, and Daryl… can’t. He can’t move. He can hardly think straight. Looking at your bare legs, the little peak of your ass just barely revealing itself from under the fabric. And then you shift your hips and the tee-shirt falls away even more. 

It takes everything in him to keep his breathing steady. 

“Are you looking?” Your voice cuts through the silent room, making no attempt to turn back and look at him. 

“No.” Daryl says, quickly. His brain scrambling over the new information that you definitely, absolutely, undeniably knew what you were doing. 

You smile to yourself, the choked sound of his voice told you everything you needed to know. You can practically feel the heat in his cheeks. The tightness in his chest.  

You never thought you’d be as into it as you were getting. Him seeing you like this was burning up your core. Slowly at first and then seemingly all at once. You put your head to the floor in a small moment of defeat over your own body, feeling yourself start to drip down your leg. You wonder if he can see it too. If the light of the TV is reflecting off the little strings of your arousal, coating the inside of your thighs, starting to drip down onto the carpet. A small groan escapes your lips as you raise your hips up off the carpet, keeping your shoulders and the rest of your body down to the ground. 

You want to show him what he’s doing to you. You want him to see the mess he’d made. So there you are, your ass now completely in the air, only a few feet from where he’s sitting behind you, “Are you looking now?” 

This time Daryl doesn’t respond. Because he can’t. His fingers are whiteknuckled on the arm-rests. And he was losing the ability to control his breathing. He was losing control of the ability to even think about breathing. To think at all. 

You don’t mind that he didn’t answer, you knew. His ragged breathing spurred you further. You reach down underneath your body, through your legs, and try to spread yourself open for him with two delicate fingers. Your middle finger slipping through your folds, too slick to hold up to friction. Your hand wipes some of it down your thigh, so you can continue what you’re trying to do. 

And you can hear his breath hitch in his throat, making a smile bloom on your face. A sick, cocky smile. 

You spread yourself for him, before taking two fingers to your clit and drawing small circles around it. You hiss, your hips spasming at the too sensitive feeling of pressure directly on your nerve bundle, but you keep going. 

Plunging two fingers deep inside of you, selfishly. This one wasn’t for Daryl, although he liked it. You needed the delicious feeling of something inside of you. Your fingers hook in you, desperately curling over and over again as you mercilessly assault your own g-spot. 

The noises coming out of you could send Daryl into a coma. Not just the half-coherent babbles and deep definitely-came-from-your-chest groans. No, the sound of your slick hand squelching against your cunt so perfectly. 

You go back and forth like this, between your clit and your walls, until you feel your orgasm start to bubble over. The dull throb of ecstasy climbing into every limb. You almost forget Daryl’s watching as you put your fingers back inside you, three this time, and ride your own hand until your body is shaking, expletives falling out of your mouth before you can catch them. 

You lay there, on the floor in a heap, teaching yourself to breathe again. Until you glance back at Daryl. With one hand covering his mouth his expression is unreadable, but his other hand gripping the arm rest tells you everything. And the hard cock pressing up against the zipper of his pants tells even more. 

You’re almost embarrassed, but not quite. Standing up from the spot you’d laid down to ‘watch TV’ you silently walk over to him and wipe your hand off on his shirt. Pressing your fingers hard against his chest through the fabric, eliciting a barely audible moan from him.

He watches you walk away, listening as your bare feet pad up the steps and into your room. It takes him all of three seconds to free his cock from his jeans. Pumping himself furiously, unceremoniously, with his face buried in the spot of his shirt where you’d wiped your juices on him. 

The smell of you, the taste of you, so fresh and right there. He laps at the spot until it’s soaked with his saliva. He comes in a strangled mess, trying to be quiet, hot white ropes painting his jeans. 

After it’s over he curses himself. He leaves before Merle and your mom get back, to go home and change. Wondering to himself what the hell just happened. 

✨🚬

For a week you avoid him. He and Merle come over twice, but you stay in your room the whole time. A little too embarrassed to face him so soon after what you’d done. You didn’t regret it, or feel bad, but your normal personality had returned. With nothing more to prove to yourself, or your stupid ex boyfriend. Not bold enough to masturbate in front of older men. Apparently not even bold enough to show your face in front of him. 

You wake up one night in a sweat, having another dream about Daryl. In this one he’d had you bent over the kitchen table. Fuck it’s hot in here, you go to open the window but what you really need is water. 

You start to make your way downstairs, only to see Daryl. In the faint glow of the television, eyes wide as he meets yours. “Oh. Hi.” You manage to say, awkwardly standing on the last step before nodding at his lack of response, looking down trying to hide your blush.

 You walk to the kitchen silently, getting some water for yourself. Feeling unbelievably uncomfortable, you wanted to be clever. To be coy and cute and everything you were the other night, but the whole thing is making you so nervous you can’t think straight. You just want to get back upstairs before you say something stupid. Before you embarrass yourself by not being that person. 

You down a cup of water quickly and toss it into the sink before heading back for your room. 

You’re passing in front of the TV when Daryl asks you, “Do you want the remote?” 

One simple question, your head spins. You knew what he meant. What he was really saying. ‘Do it again’. 

You look over at him, remote on his knee, and you nod. Walking over to him, you pick up the remote from where it sat, but you let your fingers graze all the way up his leg, over the tight bulge in his pants. “Christ.” He says, through gritted teeth. 

You smile, that same cocky smile, and take your position down on the ground in front of him. You take your time, at first you really are watching TV. Letting Daryl ache for it. Letting him question if you understood what he’d meant. 

He’d been wondering when he was going to see you next, if you’d do it again. If you’d do more. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was definitely the hottest thing a girl had ever done for him. Not like he had all that much experience with women, but he had some. None of it quite like that. Nothing that was so burned into his memory that if he closed his eyes he could still taste you. Still hear those explicit noises coming off your body. 

He needed more. He needed to watch you again. 

He waits, with baited breath, for you to touch yourself. It feels like it’s taking forever. There’s something about you just down there in front of him, though. It feels like he’s almost able to get off on just that. 

Eventually you spread your legs a little bit at a time. Raising your hips again, you play with yourself in front of him like you did before, taking more time. Teasing him. 

You slide the top half of your body, flush with the ground, over to the side a little so you can look back at him. Fuck. He’s just staring. Mouth open, eyes half closed, fingers holding a cigarette that he occasionally drags. Just watching. Never taking his eyes off of you. Occasionally he looks back up to your face, all contorted in pleasure, but for the most part he can’t take his eyes off of what your fingers are doing. The light shimmering over every wet part of you. 

You sit up for just a second to bring the teeshirt off your body and throwing it to the side. Resuming your position, now completely naked. Vulnerable. You look at him with another smile, his expression is pained. 

Daryl’s trying so hard to keep himself in control. To not touch himself until you’re out of the room, that would be too much, right? He’s convinced himself that there’s no way he can pull his cock out in front of you. He’s so much older, even if you’re 20. Even if you’re in front of him, doing this. Pretty, delicate, messy pussy spread out for him. Begging for him. He can’t. He’s got to control himself. Plus, it’s too embarrassing. You’re so confident and languid with your movements, he’s sure if you saw him like the strangled mess he was the other night that you’d run out of the room immediatly. 

He’s wrong, but it doesn’t matter to you. Of course you want him, and of course you’d let him slither right in behind you and claim any hole he wanted. You would love to see him lose control and touch himself, even if it was something you’d never seen a man do before. Of course you would. But the feeling of his eyes burned into you is so exquisite on its own. 

Daryl’s losing his fucking mind, though. You’re doing it all different than last time. Slower, hotter. Grabbing at your tits with your other hand. Fuck. His head is dizzy, he feels like he’s going to pass the fuck out. And then you start riding your hand again. But not like last time, last time your fingers were hooked into you so tight that Daryl silently begged for you to just fuck yoursef with your fingers instead. He wanted to watch your lips spread out and over them. Wanted to watch you fill and empty your cunt with your two fingers over and over, and now that’s exactly what you’re doing. 

Daryl’s chewing on his thumb, anything to keep his hands away from himself. Every time you pump your fingers inside he feels his hardened length spasm. So tight into his pants, the friction actually starts to feel good. 

You add another finger, and then another. It’s too much for Daryl, who was again silently begging you to do that too. To stretch that little pussy even more for him. Before he can even comprehend what’s happening, his vision goes white. Daryl’s cock spasms violently, cum coating the inside of his pants. His thumb is bleeding from where he’d bit down on it, and he’s never been more fucking embarrassed in his life. Never been more surprised, confused, turned on. 

He watches as you ride out your high, following with your own earth shattering orgasm only a few moments later. He looks down to you to see if you had any idea of what had happened, but you don’t. 

You have no idea he just came in his pants without even touching himself. Just from watching you. 

pt 2

a/n : thanks to @norman-fucking-reedus for helping me with some ideassss for this 💕🤘🏻

[zhaobear]

28 (teaser)

It takes you 28 weeks to leave Kim Gyuvin, but only 28 days to run right back.

PAIRING : kim gyuvin x fem reader

GENRES : fluff, crack, eventual angst, with a happy ending, enemies to lovers au, strangers to lovers au, rich girl au, bakery au, falling in love in france!!

WORD COUNT : 1209 (teaser), estimated to be 20k

SUMMARY : when you pack your bags and move to france on a whim, you don’t expect just how many challenges you’ll meet — whether it’s your difficulty in adjusting to the new country, the harsh truths of the fashion industry, or most infuriatingly, pastry chef kim gyuvin, whose immense talent doesn’t stop you from deeming him the bane of your existence. despite yourself, his shop soon becomes more of a home than you’d like to admit, as gyuvin’s delicious creations and honest words slowly worm their way into your heart and show you that affection is more than just a monetary transaction.

WARNINGS : profanity, might be suggestive, red hair gyuvin x blue hair mc, mc wants to go to fashion school and gyuvin owns a pâtisserie (both are 20), mc is a bad bitch but sometimes superficial/spoiled but!! has char development, gyuvin shows love by being a little shit, i apologize for the banner graphic design is not my passion

AUTHOR'S NOTE : happy gyuvin day!! i wanted to finish this whole fic for his bday but i'm not quite there yet so take this teaser <3 if anyone wants to be tagged for this lmk and i'll start a taglist! i'm super excited to finish this fic even though gyuvin already got rid of his red hair......i will pretend it's still there

"NOT TO BE RUDE OR ANYTHING, BUT COULD YOU MOVE THE CRYING SOMEWHERE ELSE? YOU'RE AFFECTING BUSINESS." 

Your mouth falls open. Out of all of the words you expected to hear from the employee with the red hair, these weren't at all what you imagined.

The sheer nerve of a stranger — you can’t help but fume. Your status has led you to experience all sorts of men,  most commonly the kind that fall to your feet at first sight, begging you for a mere minute of your time. You’ve unfortunately experienced their rotten sides too, particularly the petty insults and misogyny that come with your industry. You’ve also experienced the raging anger when they realize you take too much pride in yourself to become their dolls. 

But to be insulted so brazenly on the first meeting, given your name, your reputation — men do not dare. 

“Well, excuse me for choosing your store to have a mental breakdown under. I couldn’t exactly—”

“Excused.”

“What?” You seethe, your face growing hotter by the second. 

“You’re excused,” the boy repeats simply, before turning back to the door. “If you want to sit inside, you’re welcome. Please just don’t cry outside of my shop,” he calls over his shoulder. 

The door closes behind him before you can even say anything back. You’re frozen in place, shocked by the pure shamelessness of the boy. Surely no manager would let their employee act this way? You’ve never been much of a Karen, but you’re tempted to find out. 

Finally, you look inside the store, peering through the glass door. Despite yourself, you’re pleasantly surprised upon the realization that you’ve stopped under a pâtisserie. Although none of the French bakeries have made any lasting impact on you, the decent crowd inside the shop has to amount to something. 

A variety of pastries are neatly lined on the glass shelves, clearly crafted with great care and intricacy. Almost all of them are unfamiliar, but your mouth waters anyway. You didn’t even know it was possible to crave something you’ve never had. 

You observe a flash of red hair saunter behind a door at the back, and all your cravings disappear. That bitch. You’d rather die than sit inside the shop and let him win, but you cajole yourself with the thought of making a complaint as soon as you find the right person. 

You push the door open, greeted by the bell that chimes overhead. 

Warmth. 

That’s your first impression of the store, and it’s not just the significant temperature difference. Something about the aura of the shop itself, the quiet but contented chatter of customers and the soft music spilling through the overhead speakers — you hate to admit it but it gives you a sense of comfort you were missing in the past three days. 

You shake your head. Pull yourself together. 

You storm past the line of customers, immediately met with their indignant shouts and protests, and stop in front of the young boy manning the register. His eyes widen, flitting back and forth between you and the customer he was helping. 

“Miss, I—I’m sorry but you can’t just cut in line like that…” he trails off nervously. His expression makes you think of a nervous rabbit, cornered by prey twice his size with nowhere to go. Twitchy nose and all. It’s kind of cute, and a part of you feels bad. You know he didn’t do anything wrong, but maybe the intimidation will get him to help you faster. 

“I need to speak to your manager.”

The boy balks, clearly unsure how to respond. He covers his confusion with a small smile. 

“I’m sure whatever it is, I can assist you. Can I ask what the problem is?”

“Look, I appreciate you trying to help, but the best thing you can do for me is just get me the manager,” you huff. “Please,” you tack on awkwardly, feeling worse at the small flash of hurt in his eyes. The boy nods and leaves, disappearing behind the door at the back of the store. 

You tap your foot impatiently, ignoring the string of curses the customers in line direct at you. Already irritated with the amount of time they’re taking, you consider leaving, about to turn around until the door finally swings open. 

However, you’re not prepared for the man who emerges from the back. You gape at the sight of the red-haired boy, who raises an eyebrow at the sight of you, giving you an infuriating once-over. 

“Is something the matter?” He asks coolly, like he didn’t insult you mere minutes ago. Like you’re just a regular disruption and not — not you. The heir to one of the most widespread fashion companies in the world. The girl with everything. 

“I asked for the manager,” you hiss. But the boy’s face only brightens at the word, a casual grin spreading across his face. 

“Looks like you’ve found who you’re looking for,” he replies, raising his hands. “Manager by day, chef by night. What can I do for you?” 

Your hand clenches into a fist against your will, the need to punch the cheeky smirk off his face overpowering you. You hold yourself back, instead matching his attitude with a sickly sweet smile of your own. 

“I thought most managers were aware of basic customer service. But I suppose I expected too much from a hole-in-the-wall place like this,” you simper, watching his face turn the same shade as his hair.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” the man splutters. “I—I have five star reviews on Google!”

You try not to snicker at how quickly you’ve caught him off guard, schooling your expression into something that you hope is cool and unconcerned. “Well then, I’m sure Google would love to hear my thoughts instead. No use being here if I can just put a few dents in those five stars, right?” You shrug noncommittally and turn around. 

“Hold on,” the boy says, a hint of desperation in his voice. You face him, trying to smother the smug smile threatening to overtake your features. “Would a free pastry help?”

“Hm,” you feign contemplation. “I don’t know. None of the pastries in Paris have been particularly outstanding to me yet.” 

“Oh, I’m sure that won’t be a problem here,” he answers, smiling. The smile looks genuine enough, but you notice it doesn’t reach his eyes. His gaze is stuck on you — calculating, wary, like he’s still trying to make sense of you. “Yujin-ah!” He calls out without taking his eyes off you. The boy from earlier emerges behind him, refusing to look at you.

“Yeah?” He glances at the redhead with a lingering hint of that bunny-like anxiousness. 

“Get her a kouign amann on the house for me, please.” He finally breaks eye contact with you to look at the smaller boy with a gentle smile that you can tell is reserved for him. Yujin nods, hurrying to grab the pastry. 

“If it’s not to your liking, you can mention me personally in the review. The name’s Kim Gyuvin,” the redhead says, giving you a maddening wink before walking away. You splutter at him indignantly, but to deaf ears as he vanishes behind the back door.

[goldfades]

Husband Joe burrow x wife reader blurb where Joe gets hurt at the game and she’s in the stands with their kids freaking out. Reader runs to locker room with kids and wait for hours awaiting news. Turns out to be a concussion and reader needs to take care of Joe.

so i just picked some random kids name but i hope yall like it anyway<3 this was a little quick blurb, if yall wanted me to go into detail lmk

the stadium feels alive in a way that almost makes your chest ache—electric lights cutting through the cold december night, the roar of the crowd washing over you in waves. jj’s got his little hands wrapped tight around your scarf, standing on the bench next to you, his cheeks flushed red from yelling. rosie’s curled into your side, clutching her stuffed tiger with all the fierce determination of a three-year-old who hasn’t quite learned to share her dad with the rest of the world.

and joe’s out there, as he always is, calm and unshaken in a sea of chaos. you watch him drop back, the ball slipping out of his hands like a whisper, and for a moment, it feels like time slows. you know the mechanics of it by heart now—the way his body turns, the way his head snaps up to track the pass.

except this time, something’s wrong.

you see it before anyone else does. before the crowd gasps, before the announcers scramble for words, before jj tugs at your sleeve and says, "mom, why isn’t daddy getting up?" your stomach drops, heavy and immediate, as joe stays on the turf, unmoving.

the medics rush out, and everything else—the noise, the lights, the game—it all fades to static. you’re hyper-aware of rosie, still tucked into you, and jj, now climbing off the bench to get a better view. you grab his arm, your voice sharp and shaking. "jj, stay here."

he looks up at you, wide-eyed. "is daddy okay?"

you don’t have an answer. you just know your legs are moving, somehow finding the stairs, the kids trailing after you like little shadows. the buzz of the crowd is deafening, but all you can hear is your pulse hammering in your ears, your breath coming short and uneven.

at some point, you find yourself at the tunnel, blocked by a security guard who’s trying his best to look apologetic. “ma’am, you can’t—”

“he’s my husband,” you cut him off, your voice shaking but firm, jj clinging to your side now, rosie tucked under your arm like a lifeline. “please, we need to see him.”

you don’t remember how you convince him, but the next thing you know, you’re in the hallway, the fluorescent lights glaring and cold, the echo of your kids’ sneakers on the floor making the silence feel heavier. no one’s telling you anything yet, and the minutes stretch into an eternity.

you drop to your knees, jj and rosie curling into you instinctively, and you press a kiss to the top of rosie's head like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. "it’s okay," you murmur, mostly for them, but maybe a little for yourself too. "he’s gonna be okay."

you don’t know that. but you have to say it anyway.

the doctor’s voice is steady, practiced—like he’s done this a hundred times before. “it’s a concussion,” he says, glancing up from his clipboard as if to gauge your reaction. "he’s stable, but we’ll need to monitor him closely for the next few days."

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, the tightness in your chest finally starting to ease. a concussion. it’s not nothing, but it’s not everything you were afraid of, either. jj, sitting on the bench in the corner with rosie asleep in his lap, looks up at you. "is daddy gonna be okay now?"

you nod quickly, forcing a small smile even though your hands are still trembling. "yeah, buddy. he’s gonna be okay."

they let you see him after a while. joe’s lying on the padded table in the back room, his eyes closed, a bandage on his temple where he must’ve hit the turf. he stirs as you walk in, his gaze flickering up to meet yours, and even though he’s clearly disoriented, he smiles—a tired, lopsided grin that tugs at your heart.

"hey," he says, voice scratchy and quiet. "you okay?"

you laugh softly, shaking your head. "you’re asking me that? you’re the one who scared the hell out of us, joe."

his eyes drift to jj, who’s standing just inside the doorway, clutching his stuffed football like a lifeline. "hey, champ," joe says, his voice softening. "come here."

jj hesitates, looking at you for permission before running to his dad. he climbs up onto the table, careful not to jostle joe too much, and presses his tiny hand against joe’s chest like he’s checking to make sure he’s really there. "you scared us," jj says, his voice small. "mom was crying."

joe winces, his hand reaching up to ruffle jj’s hair. "i’m sorry, pal. didn’t mean to scare you."

the next morning, the house is unusually quiet. you wake up early, the soft gray light of dawn filtering through the curtains. joe’s still in bed, propped up against a stack of pillows, his eyes closed but his breathing steady. you can’t help but pause for a moment in the doorway, taking in the rise and fall of his chest, the way his hair sticks out in every direction.

in the kitchen, jj is already awake, perched on a stool with his coloring book. he looks up as you walk in, his face lighting up. "morning, mom! can i make daddy breakfast?"

you smile, ruffling his messy bedhead. "what did you have in mind?"

“toast and eggs. that’s his favorite, right?”

together, you guide jj through the process—cracking eggs (with minimal shell casualties), buttering toast, arranging everything on a tray. jj insists on carrying it himself, even though it’s almost too big for his small arms. when you reach the bedroom, he marches in proudly, setting the tray on the bedside table with a dramatic flourish.

joe’s eyes flutter open at the sound, and he smiles groggily when he sees jj. "what’s all this, huh?"

"breakfast," jj declares, climbing up onto the bed next to him. "to make you feel better. you gotta eat, daddy, so you can get strong again."

joe chuckles, his voice still a little hoarse. "thanks, bud. this looks perfect."

you watch as jj chatters away, explaining every step of the breakfast-making process in excruciating detail. joe listens, his focus entirely on his son, even though you can tell he’s still not feeling great. it’s a small moment, but it feels like a balm—like the heavy weight of last night is finally starting to lift.

you sit on the edge of the bed, watching the two of them with a quiet sort of gratitude. jj has this way of lighting joe up, of breaking through whatever walls he’s put up, and it never fails to amaze you.

"you’re a good little nurse," joe says, ruffling jj’s hair. "best one i’ve ever had."

jj beams, and you catch joe’s eyes over his head. there’s something unspoken in his gaze—a thank you, maybe, or just a reminder of how much he loves this messy, chaotic little family of yours.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[kyri45]

✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 07/12✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

Anonimo ha chiesto: Ok hear me out, what if Mac and Wukong talk about how afraid of dying Wukong is and how that fear now also applies to MK and maybe even Mac too

aaaaahh how about the fact that now Wukong is MROE afraid of MK dying than himself (since that's basically what happened in S5)

Anonimo ha chiesto: I am just imagining how will shadowpeach relationship improve that they will start courting each other and mk is like.. :0 DAMN U SURE UR THE SAME MONKEYS AS WHEN YOU WERE TRYING TO KILL EACH OTHER!!!

BOY SURE THEY ARE!!!

@kristea9ay ha chiesto: Love your last post! I need more Spicynoodles content ISTG 😭 but the last post got me thinking, has anyone told Red what MK attempted to do? Or did MK just randomly mention it during a conversation. MK: oh yeah, I found out I could teleported right before I was about to sacrifice myself- Red: YOU-WHAT?! MK: right?? I didn't even know I could do that! Do you know how much easier delivering noodles would have been? Red: no- you- NOODLE BOY-!

LMAO POOR RED SON EVERY DAY MK PULLS OUT A NEW SHENANIGAN

Anonimo ha chiesto: Please show us Macaque courtnapping wukong in the past 🙏🙏🙏 Anonimo ha chiesto: Can, can we see what Macaque actually DID to courtnap Wukong? Please? Please and thank you? With a cherry on top? AND with an ice cream sundae!!!

I wasn't lying when I said it really was the tickle war. A very jealous tickle war.

@beanspassin ha chiesto: OMG I just had a thought!!! What if when MK finally gets the hang of his shadow powers, shadow portals to be specific- ITS WHEN HES COURTNAPPING REDSON!!!! >:3c

AAAWW THAT COULD BE ADORABLEE!! Unfortunately MK is not able to make shadow powers at all, there are certain powers that just he didn't inherit

Anonimo ha chiesto: What will we see first Shadowpeach marriage OR spicynodlles marriage??

Oh man I don't know, I want to say Shadowpeach since Spicynoodle is still a pretty new couple. They are both young (I mean, MK is) and still need some times to know each other.

Anonimo ha chiesto: I need more of wukong and Mk picking up there boyfriends like there bags of grapes. love me some stronk boyfriends

THEY ARE STRONKKKK I would see Wukong just lifting the whole fam

Anonimo ha chiesto: 1st- I LOVE YOUR COMIC! Is so good! Your stories make me want to draw and create and I really want to thank you because they do inspire me. I love your linework and your use of shape and YOUR EXPRESSIONS!?? Ugh! they are lovely 💕 With that said. And I am sorry if this is a weird question but with MK and Swk being trans and Mac seemingly not, I was wondering if you had any hcs with Mac’s gender? I’ve seen a bunch of the fandom hc mac as either nb, genderfluid or a trans woman. And I found it funny that he is now the cis monkey 😂. So I though I’ll ask. Also totally fine if you hc him as cis! Is just that at least with the fandom I interact with the one that tends to be the trans one is Macaque so It was honestly nice se SWK for a change! But I still wonder, you know? Anyways! Have a good day!

mmmm nope I don't. I don't have any preferences either so any of you can feel free on giving them any kind of headcanon. Anonimo ha chiesto:

*Jumps through window* OW OH HI JUST WANTED TO POP IN AND SAY I LOVE YOUR SHADOWPEACH SERIES OKAY BYE *runs through a wall* @honktraband01 ha chiesto: OUGHHHHHH YOUR ART AND STORYTELLING IS PHENOMENAL!!!! I CAN’T GET ENOUGH!!! (Especially the ShadowPeach AU omg) and I’m so excited for whenever the next part comes out I practically screamed when Mac dropped part of his glamour omg. I may or may not have decided to finally start binging LMK because of this au… and may also be working on various bits of fan art…. So THANK YOU!!! I’ve been in-between hyperfixations and this fixed it :33 @mistress-of-nightmares ha chiesto: So I discovered your Shadowpeach bio parents AU two weeks ago on a sunday evening and my weekly phone screentime thingamabob came this Monday and. My tumblr activity has tripled in a single week. Bc I re-read your comic like four times. Jsyk 👌 Anonimo ha chiesto: I just wanted to let you know that your art is amazing, and your shadowpeach AU is the reason I binged the entire LMK series in 2 weeks. Anonimo ha chiesto: This is not a question. I just want to say I love your shadowpeach bio dad au, and I hope you have a good life and be happy and never give up what makes you happy and I know I like it because when something makes me feel less tired and more happy I know it is a great thing to have so keep it going 💜💜💜

majoraofmask ha chiesto: I LOVE YOUR ART AO MUCH! Both of your comic series have my brain in a chokehold and I do not want to let go! Your art and character writing is so tasty! Gradients my beloved ♥️♥️ zazzalonies ha chiesto: Your comic brings me life, I was drifting out of the fandom until I found this and it’s the best thing I’ve found on tumbler, that you for your work 🥰🥰 m4delin ha chiesto: I have never seen the lego monkey kid series, but I'm super hooked onto the bio dad au. it's amazing

AJCCBOADCB THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE GUYS!!!

@dragonaboni-blog ha chiesto: Hi! I'm thinking of doing a redraw of a scene from Shadowpeach AU (I won't say which one, it's a secret ;3) But I'd like to know if you have a color reference of Redson, pretty please~ OwO

If you wait just a little more I might draw him with colors, but until then very sorry but not at the moment.

Anonimo ha chiesto: So Umm since we got macaque being under moonlight shall we get wukong with sunshine??

Well he is most of the time under the sunshine but maybe we will see him absolutely shining.

Anonimo ha chiesto: does Mac experience anything else during esclipes? Mood swings? Angst? 👀 Hormones? 👀👀👀👀👀 I suspect SWK would be right there for him. It would be so cute to see him help Macque. 🥰

I guess he does have mood swings and also tirediness. He's more sleepy but at same time can't sleep. It doesn't hurt him but he feels the fact that he is weaker.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Ok but in ch.14 of vol.1 of JTTW, Wukong pilfers one of Tripitaka's old shirts and Tripitaka sees him wearing it and says he can keep it. Canon Wukong steals clothes from the people around him!!

AWWW HE GOT A COLLECTION OF LOVED ONES CLOTHES!

[lianaloverr]

Your safe with me

Paring: Sam Golbach x Fem!reader

Summary: your boyfriend just broke up with you after admitting to cheating on you, and you had to break the news to Sam.

Warnings: fluffy, some cussing, softy sam

Hey y’all!! Told u a fic was coming this weekend and I delivered! I hope u all enjoy this as much as I loved writing it! Not proofread. Just to say, Sam and Kat are NOT dating!!

Proudly my gif!

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

“Y/n it’s gonna be okay.” Kat says, as she and Colby try to comfort you. “Yea, don’t cry about him, he was a dick anyways.” Colby says while patting your shoulder.

“But not only did he break up with me, he cheated on me too!” You say while balling your eyes out. “I know, I know” Kat says and Colby nods.

Your boyfriend now ex broke up with you and had the audacity to cheat on you too, you were pissed and sad. You gave that man everything, you let him stay with you, you bought him stuff, you even let him shut out a bunch of your friends because he “didn’t like them and their attitude”.

“Have you told Sam?” Kat asks as you snap out of your thoughts. “No.” You say with your stuffed nose visibly heard. “I think you should tell him, he needs to know.” Colby says.

“Yea, I should huh?” You say to Kat and Colby as you start to grab your keys.

⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞⁞

You pull up to Sam’s house ready to tell him everything that went down, you come up in the driveway and sigh. “Here we go.”

You knock on the door, waiting for him to answer. Suddenly, the door opens and you see your best friend of 12 years standing in your face, probably watching you go through your 100th break up.

“Hey y/n, why are you crying? Are you okay?” Sam says worried. “He broke up with me and cheated too.” You tell him. And you see his face instantly soften up. “Oh my god y/n come in” he says

☹︎☹︎☹︎☹︎☹︎☹︎☹︎☹︎☹︎☹︎☹︎☹︎☹︎☹︎☹︎☹︎☹︎☹︎☹︎☹︎☹︎

“ what happened?” He says. “Well he texted me out for the blue, saying that he cheated on me and that he wanted to break up.” You say as he listens to every word.

“What the fuck dude?” You hear Sam say as he is pasting around the room. “Okay but, are you okay?” He asks. “Yea, now that I’m with you.” You say honestly.

You feel a sudden warmth of your best friend hugging you like the world was ending. “Listen, I will never let anyone hurt you. If you want me to beat someone’s ass, I’ll do it. I just want you to know, I love you so so much.” Sam tells you. “I love you too.” You say. “How about we get some ice cream and watch a movie huh?” Sam says and you nod.

࿎࿎

As you and Sam are watching a movie, you can’t help but to think back to when he said he loves you. You and him always said you loved each other, but this time felt different.

You had always had feelings for Sam, but since you guys were best friends you never tried to get with him and tried to distract yourself with boyfriends and one night-stands.

“Sam, I’m tired do you mind if I crash here?” You ask. “Yes of course, you know I’m not gonna say no.” He says with a chuckle. “Okay, thank you..” you say as you drift of to sleep.

As you close your eyes, you hear Sam say one more thing.

“Don’t worry y/n, you’re safe with me.”

༛༛

Heyy guys! I hoped you enjoyed reading this! Sorry it’s so short lol. But thank you for reading, I appreciate your support and everything. Lmk if you want anything else for Sam or anyone else on my masterlist!! Love u all and see you on the next fic!

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