#because it sounds really interesting and cool

[satorena]

#INTRO2MUNCH101

summ. when suguru “eat it off the bone” geto actually turns out to be suguru “flaps the left lip until she calls it a night” geto, he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew about his skills. . . talk about a rude awakening.

cw. explicit content. foul language. fem!reader. college!au. eventual smut (but not in the way you think. . .) mild modern lingo. allusions to music artists. cunningulūs. male masturbation. reader has a belly piercing. she’s also depicted mean by the boys. gojo cameos bc i can’t not mention him. tattoo artist!geto. substance consumption. lowkeyyy self-indulgent reader. 10k wc.

rena's note. this is a spin-off to p power, so i’d suggest reading that first to understand the correlation!

suguru geto is a simple man.

your pleasure is his pleasure. he’s always prided himself on being a pro at the art of cunningulus. honest— he’s always left with swollen lips, a heavily sprayed face and a solid five star ratings at the end of his work. his jaw feels tired out, scalp burning from consistent hair tugs, and his breathing uneven from lack of oxygen. but at the feel of plush thighs squeezing his face and the repetition of his name flowing into the air before getting squirted on, he remembers it’s always worth it.

no pain no gain, right?

wrong.

because here he finds himself, a hefty hour in since he first dove in between your soft legs, and there’s been absolutely no development. sprawled on your back on his sheets, arm slung over your eyes, and your breathing even. you look fucking bored, and his heart is sinking to his ass.

geto will use every trick he has in the book. he’s noticed overtime that girls have different bodies, therefore he needs different tactics to stimulate those bodies. he nips at your puffy bud, sucking on your clit for external pleasure. no use. fine, then he’ll push your thighs up some more for a deeper penetration of his fingers in your cunt— still no use. the only sounds being produced are his mouth slipping against his own saliva at your pussy because he can’t even get you wet enough.

the pit in his stomach grows larger. he wonders if maybe you’re just the silent type? he’s come across those before.

he’s getting nervous out of his mind, so shaky and uncoordinated that his hand slips and meets your lips for the umpteenth time— and only then do you release a guttural groan, the very first sound you’ve made in a long ass time. wait—

“did. . . did you cum?” he pants, pulling his sticky lips away from yours. his face feels moist, blood rushing all in his head and he’s lightheaded. but still, he has to know.

you push yourself up to your elbows, annoyance clear as day. he’s yet to seen this look on a girl after pulling every card known on the table, “yeah. . . to the wrong fucking house.”

oh fuck.

☆ ☆ ☆

he first spotted you chatting it up with your friends on the school’s soccer field, on a random tuesday afternoon, and he’s been hooked on you ever since.

the universe played a funny game, and he realized university truly is a small ass world. amongst your friends, he noticed a familiar face. one he’s been hearing and seeing of one too many times lately, on multiple separate and traumatic occasions— gojo’s girlfriend. suguru found himself bonding with her due to their familiar point of interest— that being gojo— and believes he can now make of her a friend.

geto watches his best friend’s eyes shimmer and he flashes his infamous million dollar smile. he really is obsessed with his girlfriend and she doesn’t even know— and geto finds himself wishing he had somebody he’d be this ecstatic over. must be nice.

“i’m gonna go say hi to my girl real quick,” gojo taps at his shoulder, and geto nods. he’s cool on it, he’ll wait back here until he’s done, or can make his way to his next class depending on whatever gojo and his girlfriend arrange. “you comin’?”

“i’m probably gonna head to our next lecture.” geto voices out, pulling his phone from his pocket to check the time. he feels gojo peeking over his shoulder, in which he assumes to verify if that would be necessary.

over forty-five minutes. damn it.

“that’s mad pointless, class doesn’t start till more than half an hour,” gojo says, and geto doesn’t see himself waiting around that long for a lecture. no way, “just come— her friends are chill.”

fuck it, he goes. naturally, gojo is all over his girl and her friends expect it. geto does give them a little wave when gojo introduces him. one of the girls mention having heard of him through a friend— something about a failed talking stage. mad federal, and the sheepish chuckle geto offers when you give him an unreadable look makes him want to crawl into a ditch.

so now you think he’s a whore. awesome.

and gojo’s smirk definitely doesn’t help him out. he doesn’t help out at all actually, so enamoured by his girlfriend that he leaves geto to fend for himself against a pack of wolves (read: nosy girls). he replies only when spoken to, nods when necessary and throws in a few “that’s crazy,” to which the girls fail to pick up he’s out of words to say.

well, everyone except you.

you’re quiet. in fact, the whole time, you haven’t said shit to him. you sit back and observe, occasionally typing on your macbook, or reapplying your lip combo. you didn’t have any words to say to him. even when your friends would talk to you, you gave them short answers and went back to listening to whatever was playing in your airpods. he could tell from that small interaction alone, you were the mean one out of your clique.

and fuck if that didn’t make him want you more. there was just something about mean women that made him want to break through their fake ass exteriors and watch them turn all soft and chummy for him.

blame it on his corruption kink.

gojo confirms his thoughts when they’re finally on their way to class. he kissed his girl goodbye and waved off her friends, to which they all (minus you) collectively cooed, “byeee gojooo!” which he found odd, but kept silent. he gave them a small nod before following his best friend.

they’re a few steps in the science building when the words slip before he can help it, ultimately cutting gojo’s rambling off, “yo, who was that girl?”

gojo glances at him before chuckling, “there was like seven of ‘em. which one?”

“the quiet one.”

it throws him off guard when gojo laughs hard. like, really hard. it attracts the attention of bystanders, who give him a crazy look but gojo ignores. as if they’d try to press him about his volume— the two were pretty adored around campus.

geto does find his reaction quite interesting, to which he cocks a brow and offers a chuckle of his own, “what?”

“oh, you definitely mean y/n,” when his laughter dies down, he finally answers. he lifts his shades to his hairline to swipe a tear. “she’s mean as fuck, bro.”

“right?!” geto laughs, tapping at gojo’s shoulder. it only charges gojo’s laughing fit back up, “i could tell from her vibe. she gives off those ‘men ain’t shit’ girlies on twitter. whole time, she’s probably laid up in bed with one.”

“you don’t even knowww,” gojo holds his shoulder and shakes him a bit. geto does in fact know, because he’s dealt with girls like her before. they’re always a good ass time. “she does men dirty. like, absolutely dogs them. heard one phone call too many.”

oh? even better than he expected. she’s probably the type that used to love hard before getting her heart trampled on and decided to seek revenge on all men. like, on some jennifer’s body shit. geto can’t help but smirk, “lemme see for myself. put me on.”

gojo falters in his step. his grip on geto’s shoulders loosen and his expression changes— not by much, but the once lighthearted smile switches to a skeptical one, “you serious?”

geto lets out a soft sigh, shrugging gojo’s hands off his shoulders. “don’t start asking too much. i did a favour for you and your girl, didn’t i?,” well, technically speaking it wasn’t like his comment had been the deciding factor for the two, but it did open gojo’s eyes. “you owe me one.”

“i don’t owe you shit,” gojo laughs, throwing his arm around geto anyways, “buuut you’re my boy and i’m not stingy. i’ll see what i can do, i know you’ve been getting a lil jealous of wifey and i.”

“shut the fuck up.” geto’s chuckles contradict his statement.

from that point on, it’s smooth sailing. gojo texts his girl asking if she’s seeing anybody. they have a little back and forth because his girlfriend assumes he’s asking for himself— which gojo gets all dramatic and throws geto under the bus for free. welp! it all worked out anyway since after he and gojo parted, you’d thought he was fine shyt. judging from your character, he doesn’t exactly take gojo’s words for what they are.

but he’ll take the opening, it’s as good as any.

time to plot.

☆ ☆ ☆

the second encounter was purely coincidental. and simultaneously embarrassing.

see, geto prides himself on his mysterious act— granted he was anything but. people see all that is gojo and automatically assume that geto has to be the cool one. it creates a perfect balance, no?

haven’t people heard of birds of a feather flock together?

so yes, he’s also a nerd. he typically enjoys spending his wednesday afternoons at dice board cafes because why not. it’s a chill, lowkey joint right off campus and not a lot of people gravitate towards, therefore the perfect spot to camp out before his evening lecture.

besides, his buddy choso works there and it gets him discounts. it isn’t the only reason he shows up, but it does help a lot on his pockets. being a student is awful, financially.

geto sips on his choco latte through a straw, browsing through the board games pamphlet as he decides what he’s going to play today. most of these games are pretty pointless if he doesn’t have an opponent, but he likes to think it helps develop his iq. he hears avenoir playing through the cafe and knows choso’s on aux.

who else could be playing this toxic ass shit?

he’s torn choosing between snakes and ladders or chess when he hears chimes at the front door, signalling somebody’s entered the establishment. he doesn’t think much of it, going on about minding his business when he hears choso say your name.

the latte enters the wrong tube and he chokes.

geto collects himself quickly, wiping any stray liquid past his mouth as his head snaps up. you’re propped up against the counter, and though he can’t see your face, he definitely recognizes your build. . . okay, yeah that sounds fucking pervy but if he stalked your page a few times, who’s business is it but his own? it’s not like you’d know. granted, he had got caught up liking one of your older photos but he took the like right back!

he debates on walking up to you. how would that even work without seeming desperate? you’ve been checking out all of his boxes so far— your face, body and attitude (question mark) are all tens. he does want to get to know you— at least be somebody in your life. but damn, why is he overthinking this? all he has to get up there and sweet talk you. he’s done this shit before.

“yo, suguru!”

shit.

purple orbs shift towards where his name was called, and lo and behold, there stands choso. and naturally, you look back to who was summoned, but god— social media does not do your face justice. he last seen you about a week ago, and had nothing but your instagram and his memory to rely on.

he makes his way to the counter and ignores you. doesn’t spare you a glance once— though he stands right at your side and watches you watching him through his peripheral. he nods at choso, “what’s up?”

choso, ever the genius, flicks his eyes between geto and you, before clearing his throat, “shoko just texted— somethin’ about a new client. how’s the studio looking?”

“booked all week,” geto answers truthfully, and he notices you’ve shifted your gaze, “little to no openings. why though?”

choso hums, jolting down online orders into a little notebook, “not even for a special friend?”

geto squints his eyes at that. there isn’t anybody he’d call a special friend that hasn’t already been booked or wouldn’t have his number to squeeze in an appointment. granted, he is a dnd warrior but even his friends know of that quirk of his, “depends. who’s the special friend?”

“me.” and he feels his heart skip a beat. fuck. he tilts his head over to the side, and good lord, your face card gave every girl on campus runs for their money. seriously, your facial features complimented you in a way that told aphrodite— the textbook definition of beauty— to go fuck herself, and hard.

“oh?” geto cocks a brow, and lets his eyes roam up and down your frame. shameless, yes, but he has a reputation to uphold. your rest in face makes his own look like child’s play, “didn’t realize we were on special friends basis.”

you click your tongue, “didn’t realize we were on lurking spam accounts but pretend we don’t exist the next day basis either,” you quip right back, picking at the white bow glued to your acrylics.

sassy. geto chuckles, now fully turning his body around to face you. you match his movements, and he toys with a ring on his middle finger, “guess you got me all figured out,” he pauses, shifting his gaze to choso, who’s already eyeing him. “sounds like you wanted me to reach out.”

“boy please,” you scoff, pausing your nail inspection. you let your hand hang, “you choked earlier because you heard my name. that corny nonchalant act isn’t the flex you’re thinking it is,” a huff escapes your lips, and geto feels blood rushing to his face. “your lurking ass was months deep into my page just a week ago— did you find any men ain’t shit vibes from the photo dump?”

choso stifles a laugh, and when geto looks at him, it dies into a cough. well damn, you really didn’t hold anything back. read him like a book actually— and it doesn’t help that gojo can’t keep his mouth shut for shit. it widens the grin on his face. he thinks he likes you.

“well,” geto smirks, “can’t say i have— means there’s still an opening.”

you furrow your brows, “oh? an opening to what exactly?”

“an appointment, of course,” he shrugs, running a hand through his hair. his locks are getting in his face, but the messy look always gets him compliments. might as well shoot his shot, “you know. . .” leaning his chin into the palm of his hand, “for a special friend.”

his double entendre definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by you. he watches how, despite the mean mugging, there’s a glint of mischief in your eyes. you’re squinting just slightly, almost as if you were weighing out the pros and cons. geto won’t break the eye contact first— he’s on a mission. he hopes the tired eyes look will be on his side this time.

tattoo or dick appointment— he would one hundred percent make an opening for you. anything to get his hands on your body.

“are we still talking about the tattoo parlour or . . .”

both you and he turn to choso, who’s watching the situation unfold. just count on him to ruin the mood, whether the obliviousness was feigned or not. choso tightens his brows at the look geto shoots him, “what?”

“i’m gonna head out,” you grab at your handbag, hopping of the seat. nicely played choso. you gather your items and slip them in your purse, sliding a few bucks across the counter. choso grabs the bills and stick them in the tip jar, nodding at her. “catch you in poly sci?”

“if you don’t skip again.” choso snorts and you flip him off, slinging your bag over your shoulder. you turn on your heel and make your way towards the exit, ultimately dismissing geto. that doesn’t feel too nice, he should probably stop that bad habit.

he rises to his feet before he can help it. his hand grabs at your wrist and notices how much smaller it seems in comparaison to his, and he hates the next words that leave his mouth, “what about me?”

you glance down at his hold on you, before looking back up at him, “what about you?” your face says everything your lips haven’t— you’re getting the ick.

he wants to wince. okay, yeah that was corny, “when do i get to see you?”

you drag out a mini hum, your gaze dancing over his silver chain around his collarbone, “dunno. you have my socials so i assume in the next hour.”

he tilts his head to the side, and the pad of his thumb grazes over your smooth skin. he doesn’t fail to notice the way your hand stiffens under his touch, “so if i slide in your dms in the next hour, i can expect an answer?”

a snort leaves your chest, and he can’t tell if it’s a condescending one or an amused one. what he does know, however, is that he’s going to be seeing you sometime soon. you take your hand back into your possession before laying it in the dead centre of his chest, pushing him back just slightly, “i’ll see you around, geto.”

his eyes trail over your figure, every step you take out of the establishment, slightly starstruck by the entirety of you— your boldness. the thrill he was beginning to feel felt like a high. he hasn’t met anybody this entertaining in a while.

“you’re so fucking corny.” he thinks he hears choso insult him from behind. he doesn’t pay him any mind, despite the middle finger that tips towards the ceiling. partynextdoor blasts in the cafe, specifically freak in you, and he hates how he finds himself relating to the lyrics,

room full of beautiful women but he only wants one.

☆ ☆ ☆

“you stalking me, pretty?”

“sure,” you nod your head, raking through the items on the clothing rack. you don’t spare him a single glance, picking a top off the rack and inspecting it, “if stalking means visiting the busiest thrift store on the busiest hour in the busiest city.”

geto lets out a small laugh, shoving his hands in the pockets of his cargos. you make him feel like a nuisance, like he’s a pest wasting your time. ironic, seeing as he wasn’t that much of a bother just last night, when you’d been indulging him in your inbox, “of course you’re the thrifting type.”

you pause your actions, price tag in your fingers as you side eye him through locks of your hair, “and you’re not?”

“didn’t mean it in a bad way, sweetheart.” geto shrugs, pulling off a cropped baby tee and bringing towards you. it has sequins sewn in the material, the gems writing out juicy couture. “this would suit you— belly piercing and whatnot.”

the top is cute, there was no denying so. a pretty shade of pink that suited your complexion, but letting his ego inflate bigger than it already was out of the question. he could tell your thought process from the judgmental look you offered, “oh god—you’re one of those fake ass, streetwearing fashionistas, aren’t you?”

geto blinks a few times, before letting out a sincere laugh. he’s been called a multitude of things before, but that one was new, “you got all that from me suggesting you buy this juicy couture tee? don’t all girls fiend over this vintage shit?”

“it’s that corny ass personality of yours,” you grab the shirt, throwing it in your cart. he wants to make a comment on that, but you beat him to the chase, “the phoney nonchalant act, the streetwear, your insta aesthetic— you’re so scripted.”

“my insta aesthetic?” he repeats, and doesn’t miss a step to catch up to you. your hands are back on the handle of your shopping cart, and if the way his elbows bump into your shoulders bothers you, you don’t make point in commenting on it. “who’s the lurker now, hm?”

you roll your eyes, pushing the strolley ahead, “don’t let it get to your big ass head. your feed screams you’re those toxic ass brent faiyaz wannabes,” he watches your fingertips rake through more clothings that pass your way, before you shoot him a glance, “let me guess— he showed on your spotify wrapped.”

his silence speaks volumes, and you click your tongue, “see? scripted.”

“and what about you?” geto counters when you make a pit stop. you pull away from your cart when a denim skirt catches your eye. you lift the skirt up to your eyes, before looking over your shoulder, cocking a brow.

“what about me?”

“the tweet reposts, the song choices for your highlights, the whole spiritual baddie persona,” he presses behind you, his chest meeting your back. he rests his chin atop your head, purple eyes landing on the clothing article that’s lowering in your hold, “if my page gives brent then yours definitely gives jhene.”

you’re mute for a second, and you chuck the skirt into the cart. you pull away from beneath him, spinning on your feet to face him, and you’ve got a scowl on your lips, “what’s wrong with jhene?”

“and you call me the toxic one.” geto pokes at your cheek. you swipe his hand away, and he laughs, “don’t get me wrong though— she makes good music. but let’s not act like she’s all innocent either,” his gaze lowers to your glossy lips, the fullness of the pair hypnotic, “a real freak. should i call you my pussy fairy?”

“do not,” you reply, weaving around him to make your way back to your cart. geto laughs, snatching a few things of the racks before dumping them in your stuff. you give him a deadpanned look and he whistles it off, feigning ignorance. “jhene’s a lovergirl. thought i was part of the men ain’t shit community.”

“you’re not gonna let that go, are you?” geto sighs. he owes gojo another thump in the head.

you roll your eyes, “thank your homeboy for that.”

“two things can be true at once,” geto fiddles with the hem of his jacket. he’s back at walking step by step with you, and you haven’t told him to fuck off yet, so he’s going to milk the opportunity out. “you’re mean but a lovergirl. you hate men but a real freak with them. right or wrong?”

you halter in your steps, and geto’s now a few steps ahead of you, so he looks over his shoulder to meet your bored expression, “i know you’re not trying to read me in the middle of value village.”

“no better time than the present,” he smiles, one that creases a dimple in his cheeks. “come on up— what are you waiting for?”

you stare at him some more, inhaling sharply, “mind you, i never invited you to join me,” you shake your head but comply regardless. cute, looks like you’re enjoying his company more than you’re letting on.

so he graces you his presence some more. he shops along with you, sneaks clothes into your cart when you’re distracted and asks you stupid questions. it’s a good time— to him at least, being able to get to know you some more without interruptions. naturally, you feign that his company is the bane of your existence, but he doesn’t miss the twitch of your lips when he taps his card into the reader at the check out.

hell yeah he’s got money to spend and is willing to show off if it means getting on your good side.

it’s only after he helps you bag your shit into your car, that he realizes this is where the both of you part ways. it annoys him slightly, but he doesn’t need to overstep his boundaries. he closes your trunk and makes his way to the driver’s side, where you’re already buckled up.

he taps at your window and the glass rolls down all the way, to which he leans forward. he’s in your line of sight now and you sigh, tilting your head sideways, “what?”

“do i get a goodbye kiss?” geto teases, honest, the boyish smirk he offers accentuating the playful undertone. the last thing he expects is you shifting in your seat, pushing yourself up and peaking your head out the window.

his smirk drops, brows jumping to his hairline. you’re really fucking close now, and for a split second he thinks you’re actually going to do it. he can see the flecks of colours swimming in your orbs, the tip of your nose bumps into his and your breath fans his cupid’s bow.

fuck, you smell really good. he bets you taste even better. his mouth is running dry, mindlessly darting his tongue out to wet his own lips. he doesn’t realize he’s let himself lean into your space, eyes narrowing on your mouth parting over his.

he’s pulled out of his trance when two fingers press at his forehead and push. he blinks his lashes, snapping back to reality as you sit back into your seat. you look amused— as if you’d played the funniest game right in his face and he’d been the star player.

“i’ll see you around, geto.”

and you drive off.

☆ ☆ ☆

“come back in a few weeks for a checkup. we’ll make sure the healing process is running smoothly. i’ll catch you soon.”

he lets out a tired sigh when the door finally closes, slumping into his seat and shuts his eyes. he’s exhausted— having woken up early for lectures and labs to back to back appointments with clients. this time around, the parlour is always booked and busy. students find it the perfect timing to get tatted to let it heal before showing it off in the summer.

it’s smart for them but idiotic for him. midterms are up, and the only time he has to study is in between appointments. he slides off his gloves and drags his seat towards his desk, redirecting his attention focus towards the blinding screen.

he feels a headache building at his temple, sipping at his iced coffee to keep him energized. contradicting, sure, but you didn’t have the luxury to be a beggar and a chooser when you were a full time student. the parlour he ran resided in his loft apartment, on the second floor. he enjoyed the comfort of his own home, spacious room and wide windows compared to outside stores.

his cat, nanako, purrs at his feet and he feels his heart swell. if there was one weakness he had in this world, it’d be her. he picks her up from the floor, presses her at his rib cage and nuzzles his nose in her fur.

“hi baby,” geto coos, and nanako lets out a sound. he continues to coddle her, fluffing her fur and rubbing at her ears, “it’s been pretty lively in here, hasn’t it? i knowww,” he coos, and as if nanako understands his words, she makes a pitiful sound that slightly shatters his heart.

geto decides to place her on his lap, her company serving plenty of motivation as he rolls back to his desk. he grabs the remote to his built-in speakers, turning the volume higher, before locking back in. exams are full of crap, and words are starting to jumble on his screen— he’s beginning to contemplate if this education shit is even worth the stress.

he’s an hour deep in jolting notes down on his ipad when he hears a knock at his front door. he scrunches his brows and glances at his agenda— he isn’t due for an appointment until another few hours. he sits it out, starting to believe he’d maybe imagined the sound. he knows it isn’t gojo since he’s celebrating an anniversary with his girl, and any other friend would’ve called to let him know they’re outside.

probably some jehovah witness shit, he thinks to himself, fingers hovering over his speaker remote to crank the volume back up. he turns back to his laptop screen, petting nanako mindlessly when his ipad flashes an instagram notification.

yourstruly.yn: open up

he jumps to his feet, chair rolling back. nanako flies to his desk, landing on all fours as she hisses at him for his suddenness. geto grabs her and kisses her ear, “sorry baby,” before sitting her on the floor. she walks off to her mini bean bag right at the foot of his desk, and he senses an attitude coming from her.

damn, he’d forgotten he squeezed you in last night in the midst of his sweet talking. that was truly a stupid move, he was already behind on studying, and because he likes to think with his head instead of his actual head, he’d fall even further behind.

he checks around the flat— picks up stray wrappers and fixes throw pillows, arranges his sheets. he was a clean man for the most part— he had been so distracted with his studies that there wasn’t much to dirty in the first place. his candles had already been lit so he knew the place smelled fine. he’s pretty positive his loft is clean enough to leave a good first impression.

he fixes loose hairs and straightens out his hoodie and sweats. thank fuck he’d showered not too long ago— he’s beginning to understand why his mother was always so insistent on being clean in case of random pop ups.

when he does finally open the door, there you stood. it was pretty chilly outside this time around, so he wasn’t surprised by the harsh wind flowing in and the clutch of your coat in your hold. your nose began reddening, and you sniffled, scowling from the cold.

you’re so cute, he sends you a smile, “hey.”

“hi,” you replied, sniffling again. “you ever planning on letting me in?”

“dunno,” he crosses his arms over his chest. he leans against the doorframe, ignoring the way he was starting to feel the frosty wind setting in his bones, “maybe if you ask nicely.”

you shoot him a deadpanned look, “move.”

“no.” geto smiles, “try again.”

“move, now.” a small pout is starting to form on your lips. he really liked testing your patience, since it always seemed to run low. you must’ve met your match— because geto always had time to fuck around.

“close, but not quite.”

“oh my goddd,” you groan, and that’s when he decides to let up. it really is colder than a bitch outside and he’d already kept you waiting while tidying up. he lets out a chuckle when you turn to the side, “i’m leaving— too damn cold for this.”

“alright, i’m playing,” geto widens the door. you stop your movements and glare at him. he aims an arm towards the inside of his loft, “don’t go, come in.”

you grumble something beneath your breath but comply, walking right past him. he follows behind you, shutting the door close and is immediately greeted back with warmth. you slip your shoes off and place them on the rack, before stepping in further into his apartment.

he slides his hands into his sweatpants’ pockets, catching up to you in the living room. your head is tilted upwards as you inspect the place though you remain in place. he stands beside you, bumping his shoulder into your arm, “so? up to your standards?”

you’re quiet for a while, letting your eyes roam around as the words build in your mind, “it’s typical,” you shrug but don’t elaborate. you’ve been staring at an art piece he’d done first year when he was fried out of his mind. you shift your gaze back to him, “where do i put my shit?”

“you can leave it in my bedroom, if that’s fine.” geto suggests and you nod wordlessly, to which he leads you to the second floor. he’s walking up the stairs and prays he doesn’t fall flat on his face— his socks can be a real bitch sometimes.

you both make it to his bedroom, with you trailing a little behind. he grabs a hanger from his mobile clothing rack, stretching an arm out to you, “i’ll hang your jacket here.”

you slide off the coat from your frame and hand it to him, to which he hangs on the rack. you circle around his bedroom with your tote on your shoulder, while he makes his way back to next to his desk. it’s pretty quiet for the most part, besides the music playing gently in the background.

your gaze lands on the cluttered items on his desk, noticing the half empty cup of coffee, notebooks and ipad on display, “did i catch you at a bad time?”

“honestly? yeah,” geto shrugs, before motioning at your tote bag. you slip it off and hand it to him, to which he sits at his nightstand, “but it’s my fault anyway, i squeezed you in a busy time. you know how exam season gets.”

“i can always reschedule,” you offer, checking your phone screen for the date, “it’s not that deep.”

“i don’t want you to leave,” geto slumps back into his seat and heaves out a sigh. he spins the chair around to catch you giving him a flat look. he leans back in his seat and spreads his thighs, smirking, “would you stay?”

“depends. are you going to be studying?” you quip, crossing your arms back to your chest.

geto ponders on what to say next. it’s not like he doesn’t want to tatt you up, but he really is caught in a bind. he also doesn’t want you to leave— not when he’s been wanting to see you since the last time he’d seen you. does he prioritize his wants or his needs?

he hums, “i’ll do whatever you want me to.”

you roll your eyes, scoffing as you make your way to his nightstand. for a second, he thinks you’re getting ready to leave and a weird feeling of disappointment settles in his gut. instead, you grab the bag and sit on the edge of his bed, pulling out your macbook and crossing your legs.

he smiles at that, “attagirl.”

“corny.” you mumble, chewing on your bottom lip as you begin typing away.

there’s a comfortable silence that fills the room. he’s back to browsing through his lecture notes, noting down valuable information and memorizing terminology. you don’t say anything either, but the sound of your nails typing at your keyboard blends well with his r&b playlist playing. sounds like you’re writing down an essay or report, depending on whatever your major is.

about half an hour into the silence, does he decide to break it. he looks over his shoulder to where you’re settled on his bed, “you good?” he checks up on you, and you let out a burnt out sigh. he knows exactly how you’re feeling.

“i guess,” you huff, twirling your necklace. your eyes are stuck on your screen, brows creasing into a scowl, “this shit is frying my brain though.”

“what are you writing?” he indulges, dropping his apple pen back onto his desk and spins in his seat to face you. maybe he’s also in due of a break— he’d rather be talking to you anyway.

“this crim report,” you answer, picking at your nail, “it’s not exactly hard but mad lengthy. i have to write a ten page report based on this article and how it contradicts societal norms.”

“ten pages?” geto whistles, rubbing at his chin. he’s settled deeper in his seat, naturally manspreading. you’re much better than him, he would’ve given up before even starting— reports were not his thing, “how far are you in?”

“i started this morning,” you hum, “so i’m four pages in.”

geto nods, “and when is it due?”

“tomorrow night.” you push your laptop off your lap. you close the screen shut and stretch out your legs, releasing a breathy moan as you relax your thighs. “i’ll do this shit later— my head’s starting to hurt.”

geto swears he’s never been so in sync in thought. he dismisses the idea of studying the second you had closed your macbook. probably a bad idea but at the moment, he couldn’t care any less, “want some entertainment?”

you cock a brow, “don’t say no stupid shit.”

“twenty one questions,” geto speaks nonetheless and finds himself beaming brightly when you scoff, “can’t a guy want to get to know you better?”

you ease yourself on his bed, slumping into his sheets as you exhale. you shift onto your side— a sinful curve at your side— tucking your knees and lean your head into your palm, “oh fuck off,” a breathless laugh and nanako makes her presence known, hopping right by you in the space between your body and the edge of the bed, “didn’t know you had a cat. she’s cute.”

“how’d you know she was a she?” geto wonders, surprised just slightly by how welcoming nanako was around you. she purred when you stroke at her fur, nuzzling further into your chest. nanako hated everyone— especially gojo, who unironically visited the most.

“instinct,” you shrugged but there’s a faint smile on your lips. not directed towards him, but his baby, “i also have a cat— he’s a fucking menace though.”

that’s one thing in common already, “like mother like son,” geto grins lazily when you flip him off mindlessly, and when you raise nanako in both your hands, he’s ready to warn you she isn’t a big fan of sudden movements— but when she mewls, the same sound she makes when geto brings home a new toy, the words die down in his throat.

he observes you both silently. you cradle nana as if she were a newborn infant, adoring and loving yet simultaneously careful and steadily. you’re cooing, calling her a sweet girl and rubbing at her ear, and nanako accepts you rather easily— too easily.

“woah.” was this those non-sexual turn ons people spoke about? for somebody so mean, you were oddly gentle with pets. he liked that— really liked that, so much that he pulls his phone out and snaps a photo of you two. but of course, because the universe loves to see him fumble, the flash goes off.

your head snaps to the side and he freezes. you narrow your eyes at him, slowly lowering nanako, “did you just—”

“so!” geto cuts you off, chucking his phone back onto his desk. it makes a loud cluttering sound, damn near knocks his drink all over, but ignores it, “my turn. what’s your cat’s name?”

“milo. and don’t cut me off—”

“milo the menace,” he cuts you off regardless, not wanting to have to decipher just what exactly possessed him to do that. he’s never done so, and he wasn’t about to explain why he’d done it just now. deflecting king! “i need to see the little guy. got any pics?”

you huff, extending a hand behind you to find your phone. when you clutch onto the device, you swing your legs off the bedside, always careful with nanako clinging to your lap. you lay her down on the floor, much to her dismay, before making your way towards him.

his eyes are stuck on your body before his mind can tell him to stop. not like it mattered much, your own eyes glued to your phone screen as you searched for the pictures he’d asked. you’ve got a matching tracksuit on— though the hoodie is cropped, thus exposing your navel piercing. he’d always had a thing for those, the pretty good jewel dangling below the button.

it didn’t help that your thong straps sat atop your waist.

he spreads his legs further open, and you stop right in between. for a moment, you’re stuck on your phone, and geto really wants to get those thighs straddling him. you look delectable— he’d pin your knees to your damn ears, sprawled on your back, and eat you out until you pleaded him to stop.

your hair was pulled back into a bun, and from this angle, he spotted scripture at the column of your neck. there was wording inked in arabic, and he made a mental note to ask you what it meant later.

geto leans back into his seat when you fold forwards, and he gets a good whiff of your vanilla scented perfume, tingling his senses in the best way, “found it?”

you nod your head, swiping through your gallery, “yeah, my bad,” you have a folder named ‘mimi’ and as expected, was filled off candid photos of your cat. he pays attention as you slide your finger on your screen, selfies of you both in the morning passing by.

“cute,” he isn’t talking about the cat, and his gaze flicks from the screen to your face. there’s still a considerate amount of space between you both, but he can see your eye colour much clearer this close up. you blink your lashes at him and he smirks, “anything else you wanna show me?”

you sniff, “don’t be gross.”

“i meant of milo,” geto definitely didn’t mean of milo. you cock a brow skeptically, and he mirrors the look, though the smile on his face grows, “what a cute lil thing,” his voice lowers and his words trail off. there’s a beat of a pause for a while, and his gaze falls on the plumpness of your lips, “you gonna let me pet your kitty?”

another beat of silence. you’re staring at his lips, and he wonders what you’re thinking. he can tell you’ve picked up on what he’s laying down (hopefully you in the next few minutes) but he can’t tell what your next move will be.

“depends. . .” a soft whisper, and he feels your breath fanning over his cupid’s bow. you flick your eyes back at him, and he finally understands the whole siren eyes shit. through lidded eyes, your stare is intense— simultaneously pulling him in closer while pushing him back. you’re toying with him, and the hand he slides up from your thigh to your ass is enough fuel. “you any good?”

he brings a second hand to the other ass cheek, and urges you onto his lap. you comply, looping your arms at the back of his neck. he feels your nails grazing at his scalp and he holds back a lethal shudder. your weight feels amazing against him— his hard on poking and making its presence well aware.

“i’d like to think i am,” he knows he is, but playing humble always goes a long way. he lets his hands run over the cup of your ass, trails back up to your hips, and slides a finger beneath the thong strap. when he snaps the material at your skin, your back arches and you press your chest against his own.

“well,” you exhale when he noses into the crook of your neck, right above your tattoo. he’s littering wet kisses at your hot skin, your taste ever so sweet against his tongue. god, you must taste divine. at your jugular, he’s able to imprint your perfume into his mind. “only one way to find out.”

geto hums at that, relishing in the way you moan at a particular suck, and focus on nibbling at that spot once more. you’re tilting your head for easier access, hips grinding against his own for better friction. your hands are soft and cautious— they trail from his nape down to his chest, and further down to his waistband.

he’s on go, ready for whatever timing you’re on. though, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out by the way your fingertip traces right above his pelvis, that you’re both on the same page. he drags his lips from the column of your neck up to your jaw, and stops right above your parted lips.

he has another cocky remark on the tip of his tongue, in typical suguru fashion, but you beat him to the chase, glossy lips pressing against his. the kiss is short and definitely leaves him wanting more when you pull back as soon as you’d leaned in— but you’re a mere centimetre away.

you whisper, not before another kiss, “don’t disappoint me, suguru.”

and he’s never ran into bed so fast.

☆ ☆ ☆

the door slams shut.

he’s left with a painfully hard reminder in his sweats that he fucked up bad. he thinks he dissociated a little between the labia flapping to the coat zipping. it’s only when he notices that instead of hearing lip smacking sounds, he hears bryson tiller’s lame ass (no shade, his ego is simply wounded), that you really left.

fuck.

geto rushes back to his bedroom, the walk of shame up the steps enough to make him want to jump off— as he takes out his phone, immediately goes through his contact list and presses on the name. it rings twice before the call gets picked up.

“yooo!”

“you still busy?” geto asks, voice hoarse as he flops down on the edge of the bed— his now empty bed. damn.

“nah, just dropped off wifey,” gojo replies. he hears music playing faintly in the back, as well as the sounds of honking. he must still be in the car, “why, what’s up?”

“i fucked up.” geto sighs, running a hand over his face.

“oh?” he isn’t surprised to find out gojo’s surprised. he’s still surprised by how the events turned out and it’s barely been ten minutes, let alone five. “say no more, i’m on my way.”

geto hangs up. he throws the phone away, before falling flat onto his bed. he picks up your scent on his sheets, your warmth slowly disappearing— another painful reminder he messed up. where he’s expecting a wet patch of anything on his duvets, he finds nothing. zip. nada.

his eyes fall shut, “shit.”

☆ ☆ ☆

“and that’s pretty much the gist of it all.”

he exhales a cloud of smoke. more silence. geto’s starting to get sick of all this silence. it was radio silence with you and now even more radio silence from gojo. his hand never stops to rub at nanako, who’s been serving as a cuddling partner in this grand moment of crisis. the only person to ever have his back.

so, geto knew that confiding in his best friend this secret of his would be risky for a multitude of reasons. for starters, geto never fucks up. this would be ultimate blackmail content for him, and geto honestly doesn’t blame him. for two, he was just giving gojo shit about never having eaten pussy. that’s just downright humiliating. and for three, he has a girlfriend who he doesn’t keep anything from. on top of that— his girlfriend is friends with the main culprit here.

overall a bad idea. he does it nonetheless, because satoru is his best friend despite it all. he isn’t too shocked when the silence is filled with bellyaching laughter, though.

“wait— i’m cryinggg,” more laughter. gojo’s now kicked his feet off the couch and is doubling forward. his shades bounce off his head and hit the leg of the coffee table. he doesn’t pause his laughing fit one bit, not even when geto throws a throw pillow his way.

it bounces off his big head and geto scoffs, bringing the joint back to his lips, “oh fuck off.”

“my fault man,” gojo apologizes though he doesn’t sound apologetic. he’s leaning forward to grab his shades back, and he’s back to swiping stray tears. “that was a good laugh— shit.”

geto hums at that, extending the blunt towards him,“glad to hear my misery has brought you entertainment.”

“see, you get it!” gojo jokes, welcoming the joint. seems like he got cocky, however, his laughing mood not quite over as he inhales. he quickly chokes on the smoke, which fades back into cackling, “oh shit—”

geto sneers, annoyance quickly rising, “quit fucking around or pass it back.” he was being pissy, yes, but his pride had been curb stomped. and it hadn’t even been an hour ago!

“nah, nah, i’m good,” gojo waves him off, despite his free hand tapping at his chest. he collects himself soon enough, and takes another hit. this time it’s successful. geto lowkey hoped it would get caught in his throat again.

“sooo,” gojo drags out, melting into the couch, “what now.”

“what now?” geto parrots.

“what’s the next move?” gojo elaborates, fingertip tapping at the blunt, and ashes fall into the tray. the end of the stick crumbles in the same way geto’s ego had earlier. “you’re gonna keep letting her think you suck at giving head?”

geto throws his head back and sighs tiredly, “what else is there to do?” he hears the sound of sizzling in the background, “i fumbled bad, bro. you don’t think she already posted about me in her girls’ private story?” more sizzling and exhaling, “i’m the storytime of the day!”

he feels gojo nudge his thigh with his foot. he looks back and the joint is presented to him. he gladly accepts it.

“what even happened?” gojo wonders. and oh boy, if that isn’t the question of the day. geto is still trying to find the answer to that. had it been out of nervousness? had he gotten too cocky? had it been her?

“i honestly wish i could answer that,” geto slips the roach into his mouth. “i didn’t feel nervous until after i realized she wasn’t fazed,” he drags out a hit and ghost inhales, “maybe it was a sign from above— to shut the fuck up sometimes.”

“maybe,” gojo snorts, throwing his legs over geto’s lap. nanako hisses at the intrusion, but the white haired man ignores her, “don’t let yourself go out sad like this. hit her back up— whatever happened to loving challenges?”

“what kind of fucked up ass challenge is this?” geto mumbles, mainly to himself.

“if i was in your shoes— which i’d never be,” because he’s gojo, he feels the need to add, “i’d put my pride aside and talk to her. like no homo shit, but you’re a great eater— yeah, no, i’m taking that back instantly.”

geto looks as horrified as he feels, “quickly, even.”

of course, gojo laughs but proceeds, “the point is, you know you’re good at it. everybody fucks up once in a while— don’t let it define you though. think of it as a minor setback for a major comeback— if you care enough, you’ll put your pride aside and do something about it. if you’re this down about it, then it must mean something to you.”

geto can’t tell anymore whether gojo’s talking about the failed pussy eating attempt or you. regardless, he knows there’s truth to his words. has to be the weed talking.

“and who made you the pussy connoisseur?” geto snorts, pressing the bud of his joint in the tray. it sizzles weakly as he kills it, starting to feel that high course through his veins.

gojo sighs dreamily, “why my lovely lady, of course.”

“looks like she taught you well,” geto relaxes himself into the tight space of the couch, settling nanako on his chest. it’s now his turn to nudge gojo with his foot, his sock-cladded toe digging at his jaw. “woulda never expected this from a rookie just a few months ago.”

“well duh,” gojo swipes his foot away, “i aced that course. got my phD in cunningulusophy and all. even won valedictorian.”

geto laughs, resting his lids. he was starting to feel sleepy, indica will do that to you, “enroll me in whatever class you took— i may need to slut myself out for extra credit. my prof’s a tough nut to bust.”

“intro to munch 101,” gojo nods his head, shutting his eyes close as well. there’s a comfortable silence that fills the air for a while. and despite the fact that his sight manipulated, he could hear the smirk dripping off his tone, “if you ever need a letter of recommendation, i got you— alumni’s honour.”

“oh fuck off,” a mixed harmony of laughter and vibrating chests.

☆ ☆ ☆

fun fact: suguru geto loves showers.

the aroma of cleanliness enhanced by thick fog. the scorching water droplets trickling down his skin, the vulnerability of his nakedness inside these four walls. he strangely feels most at ease, most raw in this moment of solitude.

he’s able to gather himself too. there isn’t much to accomplish in a shower once you’ve gotten rid of the day’s dirt. so, he likes to take the opportunity to think. to think deep and hard.

his mind’s all scrambled up. it’s been about three days since you were last in his apartment, two days since he’d thought about it, and a day since he last seen you (granted it’d been on your story, virtually, but still).

this has been the biggest feat he’s faced in a while. if he recaps it, this is what’s he gotten: he invited you over. you came the next day. he didn’t cater to you the sole reason you came. you didn’t mind. you both studied for a bit. he asked about your cat. you ended up on his lap. he ended up in bed with you. you ended up leaving with a chunk of his dignity.

that didn’t explain shit, but it did remind him of his failure. it reminded him that he’d finally met his match. it reminded him he needs to start backing his shit up. it reminded him of how good you smelled and tasted down there. it reminded him of how pretty you looked.

his cock twitches and he glances down. it also reminds him he never ended up cumming, too engrossed in his anxiety to jerk one out.

he feels as though the glass doors of his shower protect him from reality. he’s hard, though mortified, but still hard. he’d spent a long time (two days) suppressing the memory away, but there was no way to mistaken your taste on his tongue. how sweet you smelled. how soft you felt—

geto fists at his dick before he can help it. his free hand plants at the wall before him, and he works his wrist. he twists at his shaft slowly and closes his eyes— behind his lids are photographic memories of you on his lap. memories of you on his bed. memories of the scent of your panties. memories of your tits in his mouth.

sure, you’d made more sounds off the foreplay for the foreplay— but that didn’t take away how turned on he’d been. how his dick twitched in his boxers. how he’d humped the mattress. how he’d moan in your cunt.

“y/n,” geto moans your name, sinful yet hushed, his hand working faster. his thumb grazes his over slit and his gut drowns in heat. he wants a redo. he deserves a redo— you deserved a redo. “fuckkkk,”

next time, he’ll get it right. and if he doesn’t, then he’ll want to try again and again and again— until it ends with your cunt clenching around his tongue and his face sprayed vigorously in your essence. until your thighs tremble around his face, your hand clawing at his hair and your back arched off his bed. until his name bounces off his walls and echoes so loudly his neighbours complain.

he wants a redo.

he jerks back as he paints the tiles white. the joints in his hand ache, the water from the shower head getting colder. geto pants heavily, chest heaving as his load is released from him. his cum drips from the wall and into the drain at his feet— but his dick is far from well spent. if he spends another hour in the shower, it’s nobody’s business but his own.

suguru geto loves showers.

☆ ☆ ☆

“oh. you actually showed.”

“redo,” geto pants, having sprinted from his apartment. he’d spent the next three days after his shower incident wallowing some more— at some point, it just annoyed him. though slightly underwhelming, he was on his phone in bed a few minutes ago, going through his camera roll when he’d seen that picture he took of you and nanako. his feet guided him to his car before he could help it. choso helped him out with the address.

“redo?” you parrot his words, leaning against your doorframe. you crossed your arms over your chest, and it’s only then he noticed your appearance— flimsy camisole and pink lace panties. fuck, he wants a redo now.

“i want a redo.” geto repeats, but is quickly hit with a gust of wind. he hadn’t brought a jacket with him in the midst of his impulse, and goosebumps were beginning to form at his skin. he shoots his shot, “you ever planning on letting me in?” talk about deja vu.

“dunno,” you play along, eyes narrowing. “maybe if you ask nicely.”

swallow your pride, he hears gojo somewhere in the back of his mind. he shakes that thought off quickly. this desperation had to be bigger than a pride issue— he was ready to get on his knees and beg her to let him in. pride? that had been drained to the sewers the second he busted all over his shower days ago.

“lemme in and i’ll make it up to you,” geto tries instead, taking a step closer, “please?”

that seemed to be the correct answer as you push open the door to your apartment further. you turn your back and geto lets himself drink up your backside— he hadn’t seen it last time but you had dimples sitting right above your perky ass. he watches your hips sway left and right, and even tilt your head back, a smirk etched on your face, “you comin’?”

you will be, “cute.” his lips twitch into a small smile, and closes the door behind him.

☆ ☆ ☆

fool him once? shame on him.

geto doesn’t allow himself to make the same mistakes twice. if one fuck up is enough to tear him down for a week straight then why the hell would he do it again?

you’re sprawled on your back, legs spread with enough space to fit his body in between. his hands plant on either side of your face, his bulge pushed up against your core. he feels your warmth through these layers of clothes, and he rolls his hips greedily, feeling himself already grow addicted. your chin is raised high, lids blown open as you stare at him all doe-eyed.

his brows pinch in the centre of his forehead. that faux look of innocence you’re offering is doing wonders to his dick. your tits sit beautifully beneath your top, arms back on him as you pull him in closer, and he lets himself fall prey to you. for a moment, the tip of his nose bumps into yours, lips ghosting over the other, hips colliding to meet yours.

“mhm, that’s it.” you let out a sigh, throwing your head back into your pillows. there’s an opening to your neck calling his name, and geto wastes no time to latch his lips there. he slips a hand beneath your tank top, fingernails grazing over your skin to creep up to your mounds. he flicks a thumb over the bud and you sigh blissfully again— he then cups the flesh.

he loves the way you squirm when he kisses down your body, “i got you, pretty,” stripped from your cami, his lips leave open mouthed marks all over your skin. from the column of your neck, to your breasts, down your torso and past your navel, “let me take care of you.” the lower he gets, the more intense your rawness reeks— and it’s a damned good smell.

he lands right above your clothed pelvis, and he inhales sharply. he won’t make the same mistake this time, he can feel it. there’s something lingering in the air, something indescribable— but he’s confident he won’t. because when he skips your cunt in favour to pamper your inner thighs, dragging his wet tongue all over erogenous zones, he spots dampening right where your clit would be.

bingo.

your hand cradles his hair, and the other props your body up by the elbow. he glances up at you, cock throbbing against your mattress. your beauty still renders him speechless— runs his throat dry and makes his tongue feel heavy. he doesn’t want to decipher what this means either, and decides to conclude he’s simply thirsty for you.

“suguru,” you call at him. he blinks and the hand in his hair snakes down his neck, and pushes him deeper. his nose nudges at your throbbing clit, and his tongue peeks out of his mouth to lick at the damp material before he can help it. two fingers hook at your panties and push them to the side, revealing glistening folds. your slick drips between your crack and stains your sheets. he thinks he hears his stomach growl a little.

another swipe of his tongue, this time in contact with the raw you, and a breathless moan rips from you, “don’t disappoint me this time.”

and he feasts.

☆ ☆ ☆

gojo’s woken up to a notification from his phone.

it’s still pretty late— or maybe early, and his pretty girlfriend is miles away in lalaland. she snores softly, cuddling into his side, and gojo’s ready to cuss out whoever dares potentially meddle with his girl’s sleep. he’s starting to get grumpy.

when his phone undergoes face recognition, he lowers the brightness immediately. he swipes through his notification center and notices an attachment sent by geto.

now that peeks his interest. he presses on the message.

suguboo: [1 attachment]

suguboo: passed intro2munch101 with an A+ 🫡

gojo can’t help the laugh that leaves him, though is quickly quieted down when he feels stirring at his side.

“well i’ll be damned.”

yes, gojo is obsessed with his girlfriend. also 10k words on geto???

[mggslover]

‘spencer’s “first” time showing you his jealous/possessive side’. bau reader and spencer just started dating and are a bit reserved when it comes to showing affection in the office. a new agent starts flirting/trying to get readers attention and for the first time spencer make sure everyone knows who his girl friend is <3 thank you !!!

the first time spencer gets jealous genre: fluff word count: 965 a/n: oh how i love this prompt!! thanks for the request

Spencer Reid wasn’t big on PDA, so it didn’t surprise you when he suggested keeping your relationship under wraps once it became official. You didn’t mind much—sure, it was a little frustrating when he’d pat your hand away at the round table or create distance the morning after a particularly fun night, knowing he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of you—but in general, you were glad to keep things private. You had no problem avoiding the “no dating between coworkers” policy drama, and it gave you the opportunity to focus on the cases and enjoy Spencer’s company even more when you’d sneak off home together at the end of the day. 

So, when you found yourself chatting with the new addition to the team—Agent Owen Rogers—you didn’t expect the effect it would have on your boyfriend.

“Of course he’s taken an interest in her. That woman makes everyone fall head over heels,” Penelope half-sighed, her voice a mix of awe and envy as she watched you talk to Owen from the office window. Her words caught Spencer’s attention, and he turned to the scene, spotting you mid-conversation. He recognized the looks his colleagues were giving Owen—those same dreamy, admiring glances they'd had for Hotch’s brother whenever he visited the office.

Spencer’s posture stiffened as the understanding sank in. If he were being honest, he’d liked the new agent when they first met, but now, seeing the way Owen was smirking at you as he moved closer, that initial fondness had quickly morphed into distaste. He could still hear his colleagues gushing over the agent as he quickly got up and headed down the stairs toward you.

“So, I was thinking Italian? Do you like Italian?” Owen asked, his voice upbeat.

Before you could even open your mouth to turn him down, you felt the familiar warmth of your boyfriend’s arms wrapping around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder.

“We love Italian.”.

You stood there, completely bewildered, as your boyfriend not only inserted himself into the conversation but also made the boldest display of possessiveness, wrapping his arms around you without a second thought. It was so un-Spencer-like—especially in the office—but you weren’t about to complain, your hands instinctively resting over his arms.

“Actually, Owen—I can call you Owen, right?” He doesn’t wait for confirmation before continuing. “You know, it’s fascinating how often people pick Italian food for a first date. Objectively, it’s a terrible choice. Think about it: you’ve got these long, slippery noodles—spaghetti, for instance—that are practically designed to humiliate you. The odds of splattering marinara sauce all over yourself—or worse, your date—are alarmingly high. And then there’s the garlic. People convince themselves that a mint will magically erase it, but we both know that’s just a delusion. Why anyone still thinks it’s a good idea is beyond me. Kind of stupid, don’t you think?”

You bit your lip, struggling to suppress your laughter as Owen’s face crumpled. You truly felt sorry for the poor thing—he really was a nice guy—but seeing Spencer get this sassy, especially when it was all because of you, was strangely entertaining.

“I—uh, yeah.” Owen gives a nervous laugh, his fingers awkwardly brushing the back of his neck. “Pretty stupid.”

“But we’d love to have Italian food with you! Right, baby?” Spencer gives your waist a subtle squeeze, his silent cue for you to play along.

You cough slightly, trying to cover your laugh. “Right! Yes, totally—Italian sounds great.”

“Yeah, that’s cool, guys. But, uh, now that I think about it, I’m swamped. You know, being a new agent and everything.” Roger’s voice wavers just enough to betray his weak excuse.

“So unfortunate. Maybe another time,” Spencer replied smoothly. Owen nodded stiffly, forcing a tight smile before quickly walking off.

You scoffed a laugh as Owen disappeared down the bullpen, the shock still lingering. You turned to Spencer, your eyes wide in disbelief.

“What in the world has gotten into that pretty head of yours?”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed a little, suddenly aware of how much of a spectacle he had just made in the middle of the office.

“He was asking you out,” he said quietly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You chuckled, reaching up to adjust his collar. “And I was just about to say no.”

His arms found their way back around your waist, leaning into your touch as if he’d forgotten where he was. His eyes flickered from your hands to your face, his expression softening. “I know you were. But he should know not to ask you.”

You smiled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear, amused by how the man who’s so intent on keeping your relationship discreet in public is now letting his clingy nature shine through.

“You know he can’t smell that I’m taken, right?” you teased, a playful glint in your eyes.

“Well, maybe we should change that,” Spencer whispered, his voice low as he leaned in, his face brushing against your neck, causing you to giggle.

Unbeknownst to you, the whole team had quietly tiptoed their way down the stairs, and gathered around on the other side of the bullpen. They stood there, wide-eyed, like they were watching an episode of their favorite drama.

“Derek… Am I seeing this right?” Garcia whispered, voice dripping with curiosity as she watched Spencer's face disappear into your neck.

Morgan’s chuckle echoed through the bullpen. “Oh yes, babygirl. You’re seeing it just right.”

Spencer’s grip on you tightened as he sensed the peering eyes, but instead of discomfort, he radiated a quiet pride. He wasn’t hiding anymore—he was proud of what you shared, proud to be yours, and for you to be his, and he wanted the world to know it.

[void-speaks]

🌧"Hm, we don't really have those kind of luxuries nor the necessity for them, so I just dive head in even if its pouring. I do enjoy rain quite a lot. It's refreshing."

🍳"Well, I'm not exactly the best, but I do know how to make the most basic of things. Sigh, I do wish I had the chance to learn how to cook something more cool and interesting, but oh well. Oh, surprisingly enough, I do. I used to hate any and all kind of chores before, but now it's just something you can shut off your mind for and do on autopilot. Mmm, probabaly omelets. No particular reasons, I just think it's neat."

🧼"It's not like we get much of a choice. In this economy, we shower whenever we can. I do enjoy showering, but I haven't gotten many chances to bathe before, so I can't really tell anything. Again, it's a miracle if we find gel in this situation."

❌️"Obviously I would. It does depend on who is telling me what, but just in general, I would. Hmm... Probabaly Crane. He's seen some shit and has a good base of knowledge about the world, more than me and Aiden have."

🏳️‍"Well, it's hard to say right now. I can't really imagine anything that would make me give up, but there's probabaly something. Like, maybe if I was in complete despair? I don't know, hard to say."

📖"Gosh, don't even get me started on books! I really, really love books. I've always loved reading books even as a child. I mostly favored fantasy and detective novels and sometimes romance I suppose. Queer romance specifically because. Well. Guess. I wouldn't say I have a lot of opportunities to read in that sense that new books that I haven't read are a rare thing to find right now."

⛸️"I'm not... too into sports, to be fair. Would parkour count as a sport? Probabaly not right now. Hm... I guess Carnage Hall fights would be considered a sport? In that case, I don't really follow that stuff at all."

😷"I have an average immune system, so I don't get sick too much. Well, 'staying at home' right now isn't exactly an option, however, when I get sick, I tend to not overwhelm myself with chores, but don't stay in bed all day either. Well, medical masks are surprisingly hard to find, and just regular clothing pieces won't do much, so I tend to stay away from people or be very careful around them."

🥼"No, I don't. Hm, what kind of uniform... To be fair, and don't quote me on this, but Renegade uniform looks sick as Hell."

🥂"Huh, I never really thought about it. I guess I just pat myself on the back or don't really acknowledge them at all."

🛴"Parkour. It's probabaly impossible to get around on a bike in this environment, but it would be nice if I could. Traffic rules aren't really a thing right now, so eh."

🕰"Hm... Now that I think about it, we don't do that too much? Or I suppose we just use the sun as our guide most of the time. Or Peacekeeper sirens or church bells if it's in Old Villedor."

🥰"There's many things that can make me... Well, not happy, but bring some kind of positive feelings for sure. As for loved... I don't know how to answer that."

🐇"I don't. I prefer to live in the now and here. Believing in this kind of thing would be an escapism method for me, and I prefer not to do that."

🎺"I'm getting tired of saying it, but there's not much choice we have nowadays. I'm starting to sound like my grandma... I think. But, if I had to chose from all the songs I know, my current choice would be that tape that Aiden showed me recently. I don't know its name, but it goes like... 'Some people cheat, some people sin, but ohhhhh I play to win, tu-tu-tu-tu-tu-tu-u-u-u-u-u,' and so on. Sorry, I'm not the best singer. Mm, no, not really. Never had a chance to learn. Probabaly the violin. I heard it's a difficult instrument, which is one of the things that intrigues me about it."

💽"Yes! I like collecting books, newspapers from the 'old times,' audio tapes and stuff like that. Really to collect information. But especially books. There isn't a particular reason, I just enjoy doing it. Or I suppose the reason would be that I want to know as much as possible about Villedor and its life and how life was for other people in the hot of the apocalypse."

🧋"Tea. By God how much I love tea. Especially black tea with thyme. I can't even explain it, I just do. My second top tea is from a specific brand, but it's also black tea with apple and... and some other berry. I don't know its name in English. Oh, that entirely depends on the season and how I'm feeling. But generally, I lean more towards warm or hot drinks."

🌻 random in-character questions

an ask game where, instead of replying from your perspective, you answer as if it's your original character/muse/self-insert/etc. answering the question ✨

🌧️ "When outside during the rain, do you use a raincoat, an umbrella, or something else? Do you enjoy rain?"

🍳 "Are you a good cook? Do you enjoy cooking? What's your favorite thing to cook?"

🧼 "Do you prefer to take a shower during the morning or evening? Do you like taking baths? What's your favorite scent of shower gel?"

❌ "Would you do something that someone told you not to do? Why? Is there someone you'd actually listen to more than everyone else?"

🏳️ "What will make you give up?"

📖 "What kinds of books do you read? Do you have a lot of time to read?"

⛸️ "What's your favorite kind of sport? Do you follow sports closely or don't care at all?"

😷 "How often do you get sick? Do you stay at home when sick or do you end up going outside to, say, get some groceries? If you go outside, would you wear a mask?"

🥼 "Do you have to wear a uniform somewhere? If yes, how do you feel about it? If no, what kind of uniform would you love to wear?"

🥂 "How do you celebrate you accomplishments?"

🛴 "What's your preferred way of getting somewhere - own car, public transport, a bicycle, or something else? How well do you follow the traffic rules?"

🕰️ "What do you use to check what time it is?"

🥰 "What would make you feel happy and loved?"

🐇 "Do you believe in other dimensions?"

🎺 "What kind of music do you mostly listen to? Do you know how to play an instrument, and if not, which one would you want to learn to play?"

💽 "Do you collect anything? Why?"

🧋 "What's your go-to thing to drink? Do you prefer cold or hot drinks?"

[revelboo]

pulled double starscreams today. do not regret it

Nice!

Even If It Kills Me Pt 12

Armada Starscream x Reader

• You’d called it a cold, but why is your skin so warm to the touch when normally you’re shivering? Sprawled back on his berth with your nest of blankets and you on his chassis alongside his canopy, he keeps his palm cupped over you, a servo against your spine. Feeling every time you cough and hating it. And for once, the mini-cons hadn’t piled on him, too. Keeping their distance and unsettled by your obvious discomfort.

• Sweating, you kick your leg out from under the sheets and want to cry when Starscream immediately covers you again. You’re burning up and know he means well, but you’d been a lot less miserable on the cold floor, because he’s warm under you. And you just don’t have the heart to ask him to put you down. Wondering how offended he’d be if you strip down to your underwear on him just to cool off. Most likely, he wouldn’t care. It’s not like you have anything he’s the least bit interested in anyway.

• Hears you mutter something that sounds like ‘eff it’ under your breath and before he can try to figure out what that means, you’re sitting up on him and peeling off your outer coverings. Staring owlishly down at you as you ignore him and pointedly kick your blankets off of him. And then sprawl against him on your belly with a shiver. What just happened? Maybe you’re getting worse? “I could carry you to a human medic,” he grumbles, servos hovering over your spine, but entirely sure if he should touch you now. Or why you’d taken off your coverings.

• Cheek pressed against his canopy since it’s the only part of him that’s not as warm, you look up at his serious frown. Still worrying over you? “Really. I’m fine.” Absolutely miserable and feverish, but fine. “If I start hallucinating, then you can carry me to a doctor.” And that frown deepens, apparently not taking your joke well. “I’ve been worse.” Venting at you, one of his servos touches your bare shoulder and slides down your spine. Slides over a bit and stops there. Eyes closing, when he gently rubs against what feels like a bruise. Know you’re covered in them.

• Wants to ask about the mark on your skin, but now that he’s looking, they’re everywhere. Little splotches of color. Some purple, some yellow or green. Bruises. “I’ve always bruised easily. It’s no big deal,” you tell him sensing where his thoughts have gone, and he grimaces. Are these from him handling you? There’re smaller ones that must be from the mini-cons. Your soft skin marking so ridiculously easy. Hurting you when he’s trying to protect you. “You didn’t hurt me so stop frowning like that.” Chin lifting as those tired eyes narrow and you start coughing again. Letting his head fall back against the berth, he covers his face with a hand. Even when he’s trying to do good, he still destroys. Maybe Megatron’s legacy of pain is too much a part of him. Maybe it’s all he’s good for.

• Great. You made him depressed, his optics staring up at the ceiling. Again. Groaning at yourself and your giant, melancholy guardian, you shakily stand and his big hands immediately cage you. Not touching you, but hovering nearby like he thinks you might fall. Reaching to grab a servo, you lean into his huge palm. And drag that servo to your side, pressing it against the jagged scar there. “I dropped a plate. My fault. He was behind me, already mad and I just dropped it. Hit me with his bottle and it broke. Cut me,” you tell him, expression twisting with the memory of the fear. Can’t look at his face right now, because even knowing these things weren’t your fault, part of you still feels like they are. Like if you’d been better you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. That the pain was because you’d done something wrong. Deserved it. Lifting your arm, you touch another smaller scar above your elbow. “Argued with him. I don’t even remember what it was about, but he shoved me. Banged it on the counter when I fell.” Your voice and hands are shaking, want to blame it on the fever, but telling someone this is like bleeding the poison out.

• Servo gently tipping your chin up, his spark aches when you offer him a tremulous, broken smile. Runs his glossa over his denta as he carefully shifts under you. Willing himself to reach out in return. Knows you only meant to drive home that he’s not hurt you, that you know pain, but he understands that empty look on your face. Recognizes the look of someone resigned to pain and blaming themselves for deserving it. His own servos lifting to touch a discolored weld hidden under his jaw on the sensitive mesh of his neck. “Questioned a foolish order,” he whispers. And you take turns through the night. Each showing a scar and the reason for it. Sharing the pain to halve it, bound together by the same trauma.

Previous

[honeekyuu]

talk too much. [suna rintarou x reader]

twelve. lipstick

previous || masterlist || next

a/n. you ever just miss a man so much you pick up a hobby again?

warnings: suna rintarou

✗ !!! minors do not interact !!! ✗

✗ !!! ignore timestamps !!! ✗

“We’re still on for Saturday, right?”

You swallow down the bite of dinner, smiling nervously into the camera. Suna’s got two fries in his mouth, and he’s not looking at you. His gaze focused very carefully on his drawing pad, stylus gripped loosely between his fingers and following the path his wrist sets with care.

It’s just after seven o’clock, but you’d been on the phone since two. He’d clocked quite a few extra hours in the studio this week due to some project deadlines, and you’d dutifully sat on the other end of a facetime call every night. Your own work remains undone, the problem set haunting you from the corner of your desk. You have a draft of a chapter for your writing class up on your monitor, your messy notes open on your laptop. 

You’d been doing that more recently, too. Blatantly ignoring the responsibilities of your major to actually invest in your electives, this one in particular. You’d always been interested in writing, but it’d been more of a passing hobby than anything else. This class – and the encouraging feedback from your professor – had made it scarily real for you in the last few weeks, with a terrible, lingering hope filling you. A terrible hope that this might be what you’ve wanted to do this whole time. A terrible, nagging thought that the unopened problem set on your desk might be indicative of something bigger that you’ve been trying not to acknowledge.

You’re more than happy to set that issue aside to engage Suna’s conversation.

“Saturday?” you say, spooning more of your rice bowl into your mouth while you give him your attention. He only glances at you, eyes dropping to your mouth before flitting toward his own dinner shyly. He shoves nearly half of his burger in his mouth, only snorting when you watch in horror, before nodding.

“‘aturday,” he mumbles plainly, and you have to pull up your calendar because you know that’s all you’re getting.

PUMPKIN PATCH – DON’T FREAK.

Well, that’s not helpful.

Your chest swarms with nerves, and you do your best to appear as though a brick of fear hasn’t just come down over your head.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

He sees right through it, swallowing while he cuts you a disbelieving glance. “You’re so nonchalant and cool.”

You laugh, hiding behind a hand. “Sorry, I’m freaking out.”

“Me, too.”

His honesty is disarming as always. 

“Yeah?”

“Incredibly. But I still wanna do it.”

You purse your lips, warming. “Me, too.”

A beat passes, and then a voice full of fond amusement. “Yeah? You sure?” 

A roll of your eyes, the draw of his laugh when he sees it.

“Yes, Rinnie. I’m sure.”

A sigh of frustration masked as a laugh. “You’re so cruel for that.”

It’s hard to focus on your draft that night.

–

You take a deep breath and exhale slow. Slow. 

Breathe in, turn to look at yourself in the mirror, this way and that. 

Breathe out slow. Slow. 

“It’s okay,” you say to yourself, breathing in slow and then breathing out slower. “It’s okay, it’s Suna.”

It’s Suna, the same boy you’ve been talking to for weeks – months, really. The same boy who’s proven again and again that he’s not like any boy you’ve ever met before. The same boy who’d asked to pick you up this morning, who’d asked to walk entirely out of his way to pick you up for a date. A date that he’d been pushing for since before either of you could consider it one.

“It’s Suna,” you breathe again, forcing yourself to be okay with how your hair looks. “Just a first date. With Suna.” 

There are three quiet knocks on the front door, echoing around your apartment and into your bedroom.

Just a first date with Suna.

You start to sweat almost immediately.

“Okay,” you breathe, fanning your face with nervous hands and walking on shaky legs to your bedroom door. “Okay, I can do this.” You look around the living room as you cross it, making sure the space is tidy and lacking anything potentially embarrassing. You’d already checked five times, but one more couldn’t hurt.

By the time your hand is on the doorknob, your face is burning and your hands are clammy.

The man on the other side of the door doesn’t look much better.

It’s weird, meeting someone you’ve known for months.

The first thing you notice is that he’s tall. You’d known. You’d known he’d be tall, but fuck, he’s tall.

The second thing you notice is that he’s got dark features but light eyes. Green eyes, but black hair, black eyebrows. Green eyes, but inky black eyelashes that flutter over them. You’d known that too, from the photos and the calls, but his eyes are greener and his hair is darker in person. His clothes are just as dark, grey shirt tucked into black jeans and dark plaid flannel thrown over the top.

You notice the piercings and tattoos, too. The lip ring he tugs nervously between his teeth, the uneven number of piercings on his left ear and right ear, glinting in the light of your apartment hallway. The black ink peeking out from under the sleeves of his flannel, dark ink and pale, ringed fingers.

Pale, ringed fingers that are shaking just slightly, wrapped tight around a bouquet of flowers.

He looks exactly the same as he does in his photos – the familiarity is nearly overwhelming – but everything is new, intense. The reality of Suna Rintarou is stronger than it had been before.

“Hi,” you whisper, staring up at him with wide eyes. He stares back, looking just as stunned.

“Hi-” he breathes, cutting short and swallowing hard. You watch his Adam’s apple bob, ink on his throat moving with it. “-pretty girl.”

You’re not sure you’ll survive this day.

You shiver, breaking eye contact nervously and trying not to let the chills that his voice induces run rampant on your skin. “Do…” You glance over your shoulder and then back at him. “D’you wanna come in? For coffee or something?”

You watch his face redden in real time, watch his ears turn pink as he looks away from you. 

He’s as nervous as you are.

“Sure,” he says quietly. “That sounds nice.” He follows you inside, stepping carefully into your foyer and looking around curiously while he takes his shoes off. “I like your place.”

You warm, padding into the kitchen to start making coffee. You’re distracted beyond belief, distracted by the overwhelming sense of Suna’s presence. It only worsens when you glance back to thank him and realize that he’d followed you down the hall. “Oh. Hi.”

His eyes scan your face – your wide eyes and surprised blush – and then he bites down on his lip ring, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Hi. Am I making you nervous?”

Laughter bubbles out of you, and that wave of familiarity returns, washing away some of your anxiety about meeting him. You already know him.

“Maybe,” you tease, nodding back at the bouquet hanging limply in his hand. “But not any more nervous than I’m making you.”

Suna glances down, realizing that his hand is gripped so tight around it that petals are starting to shed off of the flowers onto your floor. “Oh-” He holds out the bouquet, grimacing when more petals float down between you. “This is for you.”

You smile, feeling a swell of giddiness rise in your chest – the one that you’ve always gotten with him, from the moment you started to fall for him. “I have some vases in that cabinet over the fridge,” you say, still grinning stupidly at him. His eyes twinkle, and you know he’s caught the tinge of domesticity in the way you talk to him. “Help me out, 6’3”?”

He sets the bouquet on the counter, never taking his eyes off of you. “Whatever you say, pretty girl.”

Oh, good lord.

You press a clammy hand to your heated face, watching him cross the kitchen toward you. You lean into the corner of the counter when he stops close enough to you that his scent washes over you, warm and comforting and so Suna and new that you have to fight not to gravitate toward him. 

Suna reaches up with ease, pulling the cabinet open and plucking a small vase from inside. He smirks to himself while he does. “Why d’you keep these up here if you can’t reach?”

“So I can get pretty boys like you to do it for me,” you joke, basking in the nervous flutter of those inky black lashes and the sharp cut of those green eyes down to yours.

“Got a lot of pretty boys on your roster?” His voice drips in annoyance, but his face is a lovely pink color and he can’t seem to keep eye contact with you.

“Just one,” you say, your confidence leaving you when he hands over the vase. Your fingers brush against his, and your heart flies to your throat, the nerves unbearable. You turn away, filling the vase with water from the tap and putting far too much care into arranging the bouquet. You feel him behind you, feel his eyes burning through your skin as he takes you in.

“I like your jeans,” is all he says. 

You glance down, taking in the light denim jeans and burnt orange cardigan you’d spent way too much time picking out last night. You’re not the biggest fan of how the jeans fit you, mainly because they’re much more form-fitting than you’re used to, but you’d really wanted to try something new for him. To show him how far you’ve come.

“Thanks,” you whisper nervously. “I’m still getting used to them.” He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a large part of you knows that he doesn’t need to. You can feel his pride from here, washing over you in waves of heat.

You turn back to him, leaning all your weight on the counter so you don’t collapse. “I like your outfit, too.”

His grin is torture, you’re sure of it.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. “I tried really hard today.” When you just beam up at him playfully, he sighs in defeat and looks away. He scans over all the things on your fridge, lingering on the polaroids of you with your friends while he speaks. “‘s probably better if we skip the coffee and just go.”

Your face drops, and you blink in confusion. “Why?”

He just smiles in a way that feels self-deprecating, eyes locked on a photo of Alisa and Suga kissing each of your cheeks while you laugh. He swallows, staring down at it with something warm in his gaze. “If we stay here much longer, I’m not gonna wanna leave.”

He has no idea how okay with that you just might be.

Still, he’d promised you a pumpkin patch.

You step toward him, closing the distance and watching as his gaze flits to yours nervously. You press your chest to his while you reach past him for the fridge, pretending you don’t feel his breath stutter or the fingers that brush against your waist.

There’s another photo, just under the one he’d fixated on – it had been taken the same night, just last week in fact. A weeknight when the three of you had decided that bellinis and Breakfast Club could be the only cure to your end-of-semester stress. When Alisa had whipped out a cheap polaroid camera and demanded a photoshoot, when Suga had only been so glad to order delivery for more alcohol and raid your closet for stupid photoshoot outfits. When the three of you had gotten drunk and giddy enough for your newfound confidence – still shy and small and in no small way nurtured by the very man in front of you now – to make an appearance, encouraged in the whoops and hollers of your friends when they’d seen the new you come out.

When you’d climbed drunkenly into Alisa’s lap and let her take a sexy – incredibly blurry, but still sexy – snapshot of you, the memory of Suga cheering in the background while shaking his ass to the end track of Breakfast Club embedded in the glossy film of your smeared lipstick. 

You’d kept the photo, too in love with the memories that had come with it. But you think maybe it would belong better elsewhere.

“Here,” you say, pressing the front of the photo to his chest while you back away, watching with warm ears when he takes it but keeps his eyes on yours. “You can keep that one in your wallet, if you want.”

His eyebrows lift in surprise, but you turn away and move back down the hall before you can watch him look at it. 

Still, the hushed ‘holy shit’ echoes all the way to the foyer while you put your shoes on, and you bite down a laugh.

“Ready to go?” you call, tying up your sneakers and hearing Suna rush unsteadily out of the kitchen. 

“Y-Yeah, sorry,” he calls back distractedly. Glancing up through your lashes, heart pounding in your ears at your own courage, you catch as he tucks the photo away in his wallet, just behind his ID. He folds his wallet carefully and slips it in his front pocket, inked fingers still trembling slightly. 

You walk out after him, locking the door and following him down to the nearest bus stop. He can’t seem to decide if he should stand a friendly distance from you while you wait or if he should press his side against yours, so you linger closer to him to let him know it’s okay. He flushes but steps right up to you, facing you and using his frame to block the wind when he sees how you tense against it. 

You stand in a silence that’s somehow both comforting and unnerving, meeting his eyes and then looking away nervously. He just watches you, lips pulling into a fond smile every few moments before he remembers to smother it. He reaches out to you after a while, running cold fingers over your ears and tapping the tips of his fingers against your done-up hair, grinning when you give him an empty glare.

“I like these,” he mumbles, toying with your dangly pumpkin earrings. His thumb brushes over your jaw and then your cheek, and then he finally drags it lightly against your bottom lip, your lipstick coming off a little on his skin. “Pretty.”

You inhale sharply, head swimming with the feel of his fingers and the smell of him – of his clothes and his cologne. So gentle and warm, yet so goddamn overwhelming.

You look up at him through your lashes, parting your lips just slightly, and his eyes grow wide as he stares down at you. He blinks in surprise, and you’re not totally sure what’s just happened. But his thumb leaves your lip, and you find yourself turning toward it, chasing the feeling for just a moment longer. Chasing him for just a moment longer.

The sound of the bus turning the corner breaks the spell Suna Rintarou’s put you under.

You blink rapidly, taking a small step back and watching Suna swallow hard. His face is redder than you think the wind can be blamed for, but he just turns and holds a hand out to help you onto the bus. Your skin burns where it touches his, and you shyly show the driver your student ID before leading Suna down the aisle, his fingers interlacing with yours the moment you start to pull away.

He’s grinning to himself when you finally choose a seat. You roll your eyes but let him rest your hands in his lap. 

After a moment where he’s checking how many stops are left, he pulls out a pair of corded headphones, holding one out to you.

“Want me to show you my sick music taste?”

You laugh, thankful you’d chosen a seat in the back, because the way you’re looking up at him is nothing short of pathetic.

He unlocks his phone, but it opens immediately to a paused YouTube video of a famous Pokemon gamer streaming a playthrough. You lift your brows, staring up at Suna with knowing eyes. He flushes and hurries to close it out.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I was watching it on my walk over to calm my nerves.”

You giggle and point down to his screen. “Put it on, then.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, okay.”

“No, really,” you insist. “Put it on. I wanna watch it.”

He turns to you with wide eyes. “There’s no way in hell you want to watch this.”

You roll your eyes and take his phone, rewinding the video a bit and pressing play. You try to catch up with all the new information while Suna just stares down at you. You hum after a second.

“So, it’s a Nuzlocke?” 

He doesn’t answer you, only blurting out, “You’re the girl of my dreams”. You laugh, glancing around the crowded bus before shaking your head and returning to the video.

“Yeah, you mighta mentioned that once or twice.”

–

The wind is sharp out in the middle of the pumpkin patch, but you can’t tell if your cheeks are red and stinging from that or from the sheer force of smiling so much.

Suna makes you laugh like it’s his job. He whispers quick one-liners in your ear or into your hair, smiling against the crown of your head when you hide your grin behind your hand.

He treats you like a princess, holding your hand so you don’t trip on the vines and uneven ground while you pick out a pumpkin to take home. He carries everything for you, despite your complaints, and makes a point of still holding your hand. 

And when you finally manage to find a large tote bag to shove all your souvenirs into – designated home pumpkin, popcorn, apple cider donuts, and a variety of knick knacks – he all but fights you for possession of it in the middle of the gift shop. You let him win, and as a reward, he keeps his chest pressed against your back while you wait in line for a short hay ride, one hand – fingers cold and rings colder – pressed to your waist under your cardigan, your skin pebbling under his touch.

He leans down to listen to you talk about nothing in particular, and you wonder, as the line trudges slowly along, if he realizes that his other arm is wrapped tight around you, his thumb hooked through one of your belt loops. You wonder if he realizes that the quiet push and pull of mutual nerves that had kept its hold on you all day is finally falling away, his comfort shown in the way he grabs and holds you like you’re his.

You wouldn’t mind that so much.

You finally reach the front, and he helps you up onto the hay ride, the two of you finding a little spot in the corner. Suna sets your bag between his knees but lets it sit right on his feet, the cloth tote never touching the floor of the wagon. You hum, watching him do it.

“Do you have sisters?”

He blinks, glancing at you in surprise. “A younger one, yeah.”

“Are you close with her?”

He smiles, still confused. “Sometimes…?”

You just laugh, looking away and taking in the view outside the ride. “I can tell. You don’t let bags touch the floor.”

He glances down at his feet. “I-” He laughs. “She told me it was bad luck. Smacked me over the head with her purse once.”

You grin fully, your cheeks hurting again, and shake your head. “Not tryna risk any bad luck today, Rinnie?”

He barks out a laugh, hiding his face in your hair when a couple glances back in amusement.

“I’m still not sure how I got you to like me,” he whispers against you. “I’m not risking shit.”

The ride stops outside of a large corn maze, and other people file off of the wagon slowly. You wait until it’s nearly empty to stand, taking him with you, but you stop him from leaving, pulling him back quickly and rising onto your tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

“You can afford to risk a little bit more.” 

And then you plant your lips on the corner of his mouth in a kiss so chaste that he barely has time to inhale before you’re gone. You hop off the ride on your own, taking off toward the maze. He calls after you loudly, laughing when you just disappear into a wall of corn.

You race through a whirlwind of corn stalks and trip over the uneven ground, hearing as Suna crashes into the maze behind you. Your heart jumps to your throat, and you lead him deeper into the middle of nowhere, accidentally scaring no fewer than three other groups of people and apologizing quietly while your name echoes behind you. 

You stop after a few minutes in a clearing, instantly regretting the decision to run and doing your best not to pass out right there. You barely hear him behind you, slowing to a stop and watching as you bend over to catch your breath.

“You lost, pretty girl?”

You jump, whirling on one foot, only to find Suna’s already crossed over to you. There’s a smudge of lipstick on the corner of his mouth.

“Okay, listen,” you start, laughing wildly as you back away. “Just listen for a sec-”

He grabs your outstretched hand and yanks you toward him, keeping you there with one arm wrapped around your waist.

“Did you mean that?” he asks, smiling as you try to wriggle free. “That I should risk more?”

“Okay, listen-” you laugh, pushing your hands against his chest. “I was just playing around-”

Suna’s mouth on yours tells you that he’s not.

The chills start in the crown of your head and wash down over you in an instant. Your heart stops in your chest, and when it starts again, it’s everywhere, all at once. His lip ring is cold on your mouth, but his lips are so unbelievably warm. And when he pulls away just enough to whisper to you, his breath triggers every nerve ending in your body.

“Fuck,” he whispers, breath unsteady in his chest. Your head swims at the feeling of his heartbeat under your fingers. “Was that okay?”

You can only nod, your vision hazy and your mind completely blank. He shuffles against you harshly, and you realize belatedly that your bag had slipped off his shoulder and he’d fumbled to catch it.

“Sorry,” he breathes. “Didn’t want to let it touch the ground.”

You stare up at him, wondering how you could have possibly gotten so lucky with Suna Rintarou.

You take his face in your hands, pushing your lips against his and swallowing the quiet whine he breathes into your mouth. 

He pulls you tight against him, and you push onto your tiptoes anytime he starts to lift too high, and he nearly drops you when you tug his lip ring between your teeth, your tongue passing nervously against it when he makes a sound that makes your toes curl. 

You only realize that maybe this isn’t totally appropriate for a family-friendly venue when you hear a family in the distance, trying to figure out the way out of the maze. You push against Suna’s chest, watching as he takes a moment longer to process what’s going on. When he does, all he can do is blink down at you dumbly. 

“Huh?” he breathes, face gradually burning a beautiful, rosy red that makes you want to do terrible things to this man.

You swallow your nerves.

“I think I’m ready to go,” you whisper, watching as confusion and then concern passes over his face. “If you’re ready to go.”

It clicks in an instant, and your heart skips when his eyes flick between yours before dropping to your lips, swollen and warm and completely his.

“Your place or mine?”

[clarii]

Off Limits

Summary: JJ Maybank has always had a crush on John B’s sister, and the feeling is mutual. But when JJ finally musters the courage to ask John B for permission to date her, the answer is a firm no. Determined not to ruin his friendship with John B, JJ pulls away completely, leaving her confused and heartbroken.

Pairings: JJ Maybank x Reader, John B & JJ friendship, Pogues & reader friendship, John B & Reader Siblings relationship

Warnings: Angst, drinking, hurt/comfort, protective sibling, pining, unresolved feelings

Author’s note: There might be another part, I’m not sure yet.

The sun hung low in the sky, painting the Outer Banks in shades of orange and pink as the sound of waves echoed through the marsh. You sat cross-legged on the porch of the Chateau, fingers tracing patterns into the worn wood, watching JJ Maybank argue with Pope about some ridiculous bet he’d lost earlier that day.

“Admit it, Maybank, you lost,” Pope taunted, waving a dollar bill in JJ’s face.

JJ snatched it back, flashing his signature grin. “It was a technicality, man. You know I had that cannonball beat if the current wasn’t so strong.”

You laughed softly, barely hearing the conversation because all you could focus on was the way JJ kept stealing glances at you from across the deck. It wasn’t subtle — it never was with him. His blue eyes lingered, his smirk lingering just a little longer each time you caught him staring.

“Hey, you good?” he called out, tilting his head toward you.

You nodded, trying not to blush under his gaze. “Yeah, just enjoying the chaos.”

JJ winked. “We keep it interesting, huh?”

That was how it always was with JJ. Constant teasing, pet names like princess and sweetheart tossed around like they meant nothing. But they meant everything to you.

And he knew it.

It had started small — the hand-holding during bonfires, his arm always finding its way around your waist when he walked you home after late nights at the beach. He’d tuck loose strands of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering on your jaw. It was like he couldn’t help himself.

The feelings were undeniable. And honestly, you thought he’d confess any day now.

But then came that conversation.

“Dude, I gotta talk to you.”

JJ stood in the Chateau’s kitchen, nervously rolling a bottle cap between his fingers. John B, completely oblivious, was shoving chips into his mouth like the human garbage disposal he was.

“Yeah? What’s up?”

JJ hesitated. This was harder than he thought it’d be. He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding his best friend’s eyes.

“It’s about your sister.”

John B froze mid-bite, narrowing his eyes. “What about her?”

JJ’s throat felt dry. “Look, man, I care about her. Like, really care. And I… I wanted to ask if it’s cool, you know? If I took her out sometime. For real.”

John B set the chip bag down with a thud. His face shifted from confusion to something colder.

“No.”

JJ blinked. “Wait, what?”

John B shook his head. “I’m serious, JJ. She’s not some hookup, man. She doesn’t need you messing with her head.”

JJ clenched his fists. “I’m not messing with her, JB. I—”

“I’ve seen the way you are with girls. I know you, JJ. And I’m not letting you screw up our friendship over this. She’s off limits. End of discussion.”

The finality in his tone made JJ’s stomach twist.

“Dude—”

“I said no.”

And just like that, everything changed.

JJ kept his distance. No more flirting, no more lingering touches. No more playful pet names. He acted like you were… just there. A regular person.

It hurt.

And you didn’t understand why.

Days passed. Then weeks. You noticed the way he avoided your gaze, the way his jokes were no longer meant for you but for everyone else. He stopped walking you home. Stopped holding your hand during bonfires.

He was acting like you didn’t exist.

And it was killing you.

A week later.

The party was loud, the music too much, the smell of beer thick in the air. You weren’t even sure why you were there anymore. Probably because you knew he would be.

JJ was sitting on the back deck, red solo cup in hand, head tilted back against the railing. His face was flushed, hair messier than usual, and his smile? Faded.

You hesitated, but then John B appeared, blocking your view.

“Hey,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

You blinked. “You mean besides your best friend acting like I don’t exist?”

John B’s face paled slightly, but he recovered quickly.

“He’s… just being JJ.”

You scoffed. “No, he’s not. He’s avoiding me.”

John B sighed, glancing toward JJ, who was now standing up, swaying slightly as he finished his drink.

“He’s drunk,” John B muttered. “Let me handle this.”

You shook your head. “No. I will.”

You found JJ leaning against the fence outside, eyes closed, lips pressed in a thin line.

“JJ.”

His head snapped up, and for a second, that softness was there again — the way his eyes searched yours like he was trying to memorize your face.

But then his face hardened.

“Hey. Thought you’d be inside with… you know, your actual friends.”

Your heart sank. “Why are you acting like this?”

He exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair. “I’m just tired, Y/N. Go back inside.”

You stepped closer, ignoring the ache in your chest. “No. Not until you tell me why you’re avoiding me.”

JJ’s jaw tightened. “Ask your brother.”

Before you could respond, John B appeared, tugging JJ away from you. “Dude, you’re wasted. Let’s go.”

But JJ wasn’t done.

He shoved John B’s hand off his shoulder, voice cracking.

“You think this doesn’t hurt? You think it’s easy to just… shut her out?!”

John B stared, stunned.

JJ’s voice rose. “You told me to stay away from her! So I did! But it’s killing me, man! I—” His eyes flicked to you, glassy and vulnerable. “I’m in love with her. And you made me feel like I wasn’t good enough to even try.”

Silence.

You felt like the world had stopped spinning.

John B swallowed hard. “JJ… I didn’t mean—”

JJ’s voice broke. “Yeah, you did.”

And with that, he pushed past both of you, disappearing into the night.

[three-realms-archive]

wow, y’all really liked this one, huh? i named the idol guy darkfang cuz it was the first edgy-sounding thing that came into my head and i heard coldsteel was already taken by someone’s oc idk

does this make this guy an oc? omfg is my first obey me oc an edgy idol in the devildom? is my first obey me oc a plot device??

idol culture in the devildom also seems like an interesting thing, cuz im pretty sure levi is a fan of some in the game itself. and then you can get all cool and worldbuild-y w it.

im thinking mammon or asmo showing up in their music vids as background extras cuz of their modelling gigs; their music playing at the public gym that beel works out at; or even like satan getting slightly miffed because one of his favourite books is getting adapted into a live action movie, but they’ve cast them as the lead clearly for their star power rather than their acting talent.

well this message got a lot longer than i intended. this was just a big thank you for liking my writing i really got fuzzy when the interaction notifs kept popping up on my phone ☺️❤️

also uh poll inspired by this

Biggest Crush

Summary/Details: MC sees someone on TV that they haven’t seen in a while, and the brothers react accordingly. Fluffy and light, all brothers included!

You didn’t mind being squished in between Mammon and Beelzebub on the sofa for the weekly movie night. The former took the opportunity to not-so-subtly snuggle into your side, whilst the latter held a comically-large bowl of popcorn; eighty-percent of which was probably for himself. The movie you watched was some old film that the brothers’ apparently had some nostalgia for, but could only be found on DevilTube. Inevitably, this meant an advertisement would play every so often; and your eyes lit up as a familiar demon flashed up on screen.

“Woah, it’s Darkfang! Yo…” you said, tossing some of Beel’s popcorn into your mouth. The sixth-born simply smiled, content at seeing your cheeks so adorably full, as you continued. “He was the first Devildom idol I ever got into!”

A few noises and hums of acknowledgement came from the brothers. On the TV screen, Darkfang flashed a handsome, cocky smile, winking at the viewer as he showed off what you assumed to be a new fashion line. You feel a wave of nostalgia wash over you.

“Y’know,” you began, voice slightly muffled as you chewed, “I had, like, the biggest crush on him back when I first got here.”

Silence, this time.

Lucifer tensed up. Leviathan peered up from his D.D.D for the first time that evening, with an imperceptible yelp. Satan balled his fists in his lap to stay composed. Asmo bit his lip. Beel stopped eating. Belphegor’s tail thrashed against the carpet.

Mammon’s grip on you was getting a little tight.

“Hey, Mam’. You mind squeezing a bit lighter?” You say nonchalantly, eyes focused completely on the movie, which had started up again after the advert had finished.

Little did you know, no one was paying attention to the movie anymore.

Instead, each brother replayed the advert in their mind; determined to one-up their new competition.

_

Later that week, something strange happened around the House of Lamentation.

Well. Strange things always happened… but this was different.

Suddenly, everyone was into idols. You caught Asmo and Levi studying idol performances more intensely than you had ever seen them study for an exam. Beel had even joined them for dancing practice each morning - complete with synchronised singing and chanting. You could hear the commotion from your room, and it now served as your alarm.

You figured this fascination with idol culture was what got Satan, Belphegor and Mammon in the music room every day after school. They didn’t know you knew, but it was pretty hard to miss when Mammon’s cries of ‘we sound so much better than that idiot!’ rang throughout the halls, accompanied by the rather-hideous combination of sounds from an electric guitar, a classical piano, and a cowbell.

Then, there was Lucifer. You tiptoed quietly into his study one evening, intending to remind him to get some rest. Instead, you found Lucifer sound asleep, his head on his desk… and a poster of Darkfang nestled under his cheek. Beside it were notes - meticulous, handwritten notes - with various facts you recognised about Darkfang’s height, weight, workout routine, diet… even his favourite pie flavour?

“Oh my Diavolo… I never guessed they’d all become Darkfang fans!” You whisper excitedly, blissfully ignorant to the brothers’ true motives. “I’ll start watching him on TV more often.”

(i’m probs gonna start doing more comedy amongst the angst storm lol. a lot of family friends way younger than me recently got into kpop, and i started watching and looking back at old idols i liked - especially vocaloid and kpop idols that gained popularity around the bts wings era. feel free to share any idols you guys liked as a kid/teen!)

[radiantmists]

For @charles-rowland-week Day 3: Bag of Tricks Backpack!

I have a lot of thoughts about the backpack (I love a bag of holding) so here's one scene from what will hopefully be a whole fic someday, set at some point before Charles has quite figured the bag out.

***

"I do wish you wouldn't do that in the office," Edwin says from his seat at the desk. He's been reading the same book for more than a day now, some thick alchemy tome that's apparently fascinating enough to hold his interest despite being written using Linear B, which even Edwin finds challenging.

Charles, setting the sparkly rock he's just pulled out of his backpack next to the pair of sunglasses and ornately painted saltshaker that had preceded it, grins up at him.

"You don't want me to bring the bag on cases, now you don't want me to mess with it in the office," he says. "Where am I meant to practice, on the roof?"

"I didn't want you to bring it on cases because I worried you would put case-relevant materials in by accident and not be able to retrieve them in time," Edwin replies primly. "Now that that ship has rather dramatically sailed, I don't want you to use it here because I worry that you will retrieve certain case-relevant materials."

"I told you, I'm pretty sure it ate the demon bats," Charles says. "I mean, digested and all. We're never gonna see them again."

He's only mostly joking about that. Nothing he did should have given the bag the ability to digest magical creatures, but he's got the strong feeling that it has a sense of humor, and if it can develop one of those on it's own, a stomach isn't much of a stretch, is it?

"For all your insistence on that point, you're very willing to put your arm inside of it," Edwin says, not sounding particularly concerned. "Do you not worry that it will gain a taste for ghost, next?"

"Mate," Charles gasps theatrically, "our backpack would never."

"That abomination is entirely yours, as far as I'm concerned."

This is somewhat fair, considering that the bag probably wouldn't have the audacity to withhold Edwin's books if he'd been the one to enchant it instead of letting Charles do it. However, the comment runs counter to Charles' current strategy: sweet-talking the bag into compliance.

"Don't worry," Charles tells it in a conciliatory tone, "he loves you really."

He glances up at Edwin, expecting a comment about misguided anthropomorphizing or something, but no, he's back to the book.

With a sigh, Charles reaches into the backpack again, focusing on his boomerang. It had been pretty cool, enchanted to return right to your hands when you threw it, even after it hit something. He and Edwin had spent weeks poking at the spell to figure out how to reproduce it for Charles' bat.

But at some point after that, it had occurred to Charles to wonder what would happen if he threw it into the backpack, and, well. Here he was a year later, groping around in the void.

(Chucking random magical objects in was probably not making the backpack's behavior more predictable, but Charles never managed to think about things like that until after he'd followed through on the impulse.)

He'd realized (again, shortly after doing it) that the problem with enchanting a bag to be infinite inside was that it now contained infinite amounts of empty space. It's taken him years just to consistently find something when he reaches in. Now he just has to work out how to find what he's actually looking for.

After a few seconds of grasping blindly, his fingers brush against something. It's small, flat and thin like a piece of paper, but a little sturdier-- maybe one of the cards he'd put in as a test a few months back? He'd been pretty sure the whole deck would stay together, but maybe if something else he put in had bumped it…

As far as he can tell by touch, there's nothing else 'nearby' in the void, so he pulls the object out and finds that it's not a card but a bookmark, one of the celluloid ones that Edwin prefers. It's in the shape of a train car, with a little advert for the rail company on the back; Charles thinks he remembers Edwin saying he used to collect these, as a child.

"Think it's trying to tell you something, mate," Charles says, holding it up for Edwin to see.

"Charles, the bag doesn't have ears," Edwin says, but he does finally look away from the book. He cocks his head as he recognizes the bookmark, expression going thoughtful. "If anything, I would say this is an indication that it's responding to your desires."

"Feel like it would be a bit easier to use if it were doing that," Charles grumbles, and Edwin's mouth quirks a bit.

"I suppose I will take the hint, wherever it originates," he says, rising and coming around the desk to retrieve the bookmark. "I admit I could use a change of scenery."

"Brills," says Charles, climbing to his feet. "Wanna take the bag to the roof and see what happens if I turn it inside out?"

"Absolutely not."

[mikeypubes]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ryuguji ken relationship headcanons ੈ✩‧₊˚

°˖✧✿✧˖°

SFW

so if he likes you, you're never going to find out 🤷🏻‍♀️

this man leaves no hints whatsoever and treats you like a rando.

he has probably liked you for years, honestly. he never spoke up about it, though, for a couple of reasons.

also because he's not too interested in romance at the moment. he has bigger worries (like mikey 😐)

he is self-conscious and aware though so he'll notice if you like him right away.

he's pretty serious about relationships and whatnot so he doesn't wanna rush things, or get into a relationship he's unsure of.

he needs to make sure you both want this and both have the same feelings before getting into it, and any relationship will be long-term for sure.

and when he does date, he's dating for marriage 100%

so when you do confess, he'll get pretty shy and just mumble that he feels the same way.

anyways into the actual relationship !

forehead and head kisses.

if you want a real kiss you're not getting one unless you start it 😁

later on into the relationship, he'll get more comfortable and MAYBE he'll give you a small peck in a private, romantic situation.

he's super soft and gentle, but he'll be way too shy to initiate anything at the beginning.

his love language would be quality time and maybe acts of service, and occasionally some gift-giving.

i can see him finding an ugly plushie and giving it to you while laughing cheekily because it "looks like you" 👍

if you try to feed him in public he is NOT taking the bite.

PDA will never happen, at the very most hand-holding just because you insisted.

he's super overprotective.

you're not going out at night alone, he's always always gonna walk you back home and make sure you're inside safely till he leaves.

your mother ADORES him because he's so respectful towards elders and especially your parents, he wants to make a good impression.

he's honest and truthful, so when he says he'll never hurt you, he genuinely will never.

he would hate it when you wear overly revealing stuff, like super short shorts or a short skirt, so he'd try to cover you up with his sweater.

also I feel like if you try to wear his clothes, he'll pretend he hates it but he would probably find it adorable SUPER DEEP inside.

he low-key carries snacks you like around when he's with you, and he always has a hair tie on his wrist (and he'd lie and tell you it's for him).

he always plays with your hair and braids it, but if you play with his he'd tell you to stop even though secretly loves it (it's so relaxing for him, he'll probably lay his head in your lap and fall asleep).

also, he will FIGHT for you, like if some guy (especially from another gang) is really out of line, he'll get so pissed.

he would lose it if you got hurt. (this sounds so cringey)

he doesn't want you to get too involved with his gang activities because he knows how vulnerable you are and how dangerous gangs can be, especially since he and mikey have so many enemies.

also, you're going to automatically know mikey. for sure.

get used to draken ditching you for mikey's random ass whims 😜

also get used to seeing draken covered in someone else's blood.

like i can imagine him finishing up a fight, then coming to your house in the middle of the night covered in bruises and you'll be like "omg?? what happened??" and he'll act so cool and chill like "just cleaned up a mess."

and he kind of looks hot, too.

he likes it when you tend to him, though.

he'll probably sit on the edge of your bed while you're standing close to him, focused on disinfecting the scratches until you feel a soft kiss pressed to your forehead.

he'll ruin the mood by suddenly grunting and lecturing you "that hurts, idiot."

this is pretty random but I feel like he always and I mean always smells good. he hates strong colognes so he always has a soft but nice smelling cologne on.

I feel like he subconsciously flexes how tall and strong he is, like seeing you struggle to open a jar and he'll come over all nonchalant and open it so easily.

when he's in a nice mood, he'll be really teasy and romantic. he loves seeing you get all red and flustered.

he prefers hugs over kisses just because they're not as embarrassing. also because he loves feeling your warmth around him.

if he ever makes you cry, he'll feel so guilty and would try to make up for it in indirect ways, but if was because of an argument, he'll apologize properly. he's really mature.

but do not disrespect him. he needs to feel respected in a relationship otherwise it won't work out.

he's surprisingly innocent, like he does not have ulterior motives. he'll THINK of things, yeah, but he won't look at you in an assholery way.

NSFW

I think it would take a long time to get into it, honestly.

he's really big on trust and communication, so if you both are 100% sure you want it, then he'll prepare for it really well.

it'll have to be at your house. he will never do it at his place, he'll die of embarrassment. plus he cannot take the teasing from everyone who works there knowing that he brought a girl to his bedroom (and it's pretty obvious what they would do all by themselves in there).

he would want you to be relaxed too, and doing it in a strange environment surrounded by loud sounds (if yk what i mean 💀) might have you on edge.

he would feel so much better knowing you totally trust him and show him yourself in a vulnerable state.

either way, he's obviously slow and gentle. it's also embarrassing for him, since he's never done it before this time.

he probably likes boobs the most

he would have done some in-depth research to make sure you won't feel any discomfort.

and he makes sure it's totally safe.

his aftercare is amazing, too. he'll properly clean the both of you up, and actually take care of you. if you want water, tea, anything, he's got you.

anyways yeah that was pretty long

°˖✧✿✧˖°

[cherrysurf]

congrats on your 200 💫💫can i have taro and cherries (friends set us up) as the toppings in waffle cone? i’ll have the cheesecake bites. ill have it with suna rintarou 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Unexpected interest

suna rintarou x f!reader (no proofread)

thank you to @massacremars for helping me figure out the plot for this fic 😞🙏🏻 bless up chat

Osamu was just about sick of hearing you complain about being single and the lack of men at your door “blah, blah, blah yn you know you’re lucky i’m a good friend and i’m willing to listen to you complain about this.” he said slurping on his ramen. “then help me out instead of listening to me complain.” you rolling your eyes “sigh. I don’t know if I can. But I'll try.” he says because he really is sick of this all. “How are you gonna do that?”

you asked quirking your eyebrow at him as you eat your food “i’m going to set you up with an old friend of mine, this saturday get ready i’ll have everything planned and text you the time before hand.” he says smirking at his grand idea “ermmm okay fine.” you say shrugging trusting in the gray haired man’s words—

after osamu had gotten home from yours and his lunch he called up atsumu for his grand idea “sunas still single right?” osamu asked, “Uh yeah, I think so, why?” atsumu said. “you remember yn?” osamu mentioned “oh yeah, how is she?” the blonde said over the phone. “she’s good but annoyingly single and can’t stop talking about it so i want to set her up with suna since he’s coming back to town this week” osamu tells him the plan “ah i see helping her out, so why are you telling me and not him?” atsumu questioned “Because I need you to help me talk him into this date” osamu said “and how will I do that?” Atsumu laughed. “bro figure it out and fast i told her Saturday is gonna be the date.” osamu added “WHAT?! that’s not enough time” atsumu said yelling “work with what i gave ya gotta go bye” osamu quickly hung up the phone. “ughhh i just wanted to sleep bruh” atsumu groaned—

atsumu called suna later that day “yo rin” atsum said “what’s up?” suna asked a bit confused because as crazy as it was atsumu never called out of the blue like this “I was wondering your single? and need some action in your love life because you have none and you don’t want to die alone right?” atsumu added “uhh i guess? where are you going with this tsumu?” he said sick of the blonde haired man and his antics “look osamu wants to set you up with one of his friends, she’s super pretty and cool i think you guys might hit it off, but you’d have to plan the date for this saturday” atsumu said really fast “are you kidding me?” suna said “nah, dead serious come on bro it’s not bad just do it for me and samu” atsumu added “ima do it for the girl because if she’s dealing with osamu and coming to him with her problems she must be struggling” suna said “perfect so text osamu ask for her number and set it up peace out my work here is done.” atsumu said feeling accomplished. “yeah whatever” suna said rolling his eyes.

Texts between osamu and suna;

S: send me that girls number so i can set up the date with her

O: wait u actually said yes?

S: yea?

O: dam, ok here you go (xxx) xxx-xxx

S: thanks

O: lmk how it goes…

Texts between suna and yn

S: Hey this is Osamu's friends, he the one who set you up on a date with me.

Yn: oh yeah, Hey! i can’t believe he actually did LMAO

S: yeah anyways what’s ur name?

Yn: it’s Yn, and you?

S: suna. So for the date i’ll pick you up at 9, dress casual unless you wanna meet there

Yn: no i don’t mind, uhm sure sounds good see you then suna!

S: see ya.

fast forward to the day of the date you’ve haven't been on one in forever so you were nervous about it all especially it being a long time friend of osamu’s and atsumu’s, you may have spent an unhealthy amount of time picking a “causal” outfit but you found one (after many double checks with all your friends) and pinterested many tiktok hairstyles for the days following up to the date but everything went smoothly until you get a text saying he’s going to be on his way, your stomach fills with anxiety because you have no idea what he looks like this was all new to you, surely osamu and atsumu wouldn’t set you up with someone ugly right? right? you try to push down all the worries and woes of your mind and triple check your outfit.

16 minutes later you get a knock on your door and you’re greeted by a tall dark haired man with beautiful green fox like eyes with a beautiful bouquet of lilies of the valley flowers, “how did you know…?” you asked him looking at the flowers, which makes him nervous “uh i asked osamu, i didn’t want to come empty handed” he said shyly “their beautiful….can i go put them away really quick” you say looking up at him which caused his heart to burst and beat like a drum a sensation he hasn’t felt since his first crush. “yeah-h sure” he said, staring at you “cool! I'll be fast.” you say grabbing them as if they were ever so delicate you threw out the old wilting bouquet of flowers and got new water to place the beautiful flowers he got you in, “okay all ready to go, shall we?” you say smiling which only made him more nervous “yeah let’s go.” he said smiling—

Suna was never the super shy type he wasn’t super cocky either, but how can he not feel nervous when he’s in the car with this beaming sunlight next to him, you radiating warmth and love. How could have you been single for this long? He questioned that he was also wondering if the date he planned wasn’t good enough for you now he’s rethinking everything while basically driving on autopilot to the destination. You sat there looking through the window happily. Suna seemed like a nice guy, he was sweet, he opened your door for you which was yes the bare minimum but it all felt so special with him.

The date was a fun night market with food vendors and small shops and fair rides. Your eyes lit up at the lively atmosphere, suna noticed of course he noticed it’s like his eyes were stuck on you this whole time.

After many foods, silly rides, suna almost throwing up, cute photo booth, and petting goats and calling them atsumu and osamu. The night was ending you both got sleepy, as you walk back to the car with a smile and blue tongue from the shaved ice and a small white bunny as a prize from the game suna won it from, and suna with red tongue and a smile on his face seeing you glow and scream in delight at all the rides. He couldn’t be happier that those twins finally did something good for him “thank you for this suna i had a lot of fun.” you say gripping onto his arm “yeah id love to do it again sometime…. maybe something more formal?” he said looking at you to find you with your eyes sparkling “REALLY?! "I'd love too suna” you say staring at him “yeah, and you can call me rin” he said smiling “rin, mmh i like that” you say savoring his name on your blue stained tongue, him engraving the sound of your voice in his brain.

[i-like-forcefem]

It’s okay to be scared cutie,

something that helps me deal with it is assume that they feel the same way about me as I do them,

I have an unique perspective running a semi-big blog, and I know that I read every interaction it gets, I won’t respond to everything but I do appreciate everything! A simple hi is already so fun! (And imaging receiving that attention on some smaller blogs? Sounds so so cool!!!)

And I don’t remember ever feeling insulted by getting invites to things I’m not interested in, I always appreciate it!

And I never think less of anyone I accidentally don’t respond to for a bit, either I opened it and forgot to respond or I was simply not in the mood right now

And when I say I appreciate, and love my friends I mean it

And then the least I can do is apply the same standard to them (but that’s really really hard)

But I mean, I’ve spent so so long without any good friends, all because I didn’t start anything! I assumed that if the other person doesn’t take the first step, they don’t want me

And that’s silly and wrong!

Because I want to do stuff with them!!!!

And I’m not doing anything to make it happen!!!!!

It’s hard, it’s terrifying, but it’s worth it to do it scared

Learn to be the person to start things (conversations, meetings, roleplay sessions, anything!), and I promise you you won’t regret it

Goodluck cutie (hugs you)

Can you do something for me cutie?

I know making and maintaining friends is hard

I know you’ve been alone so long it’s started to feel natural

But it’d mean the world to me if you did one little thing

Find someone you like, a blog that looks cool, an artist you’ve followed for ages, a girl that left a funny comment on your post

And start a chat with her! A simple “hi!” Or a question about their interests can be enough!

I know it can be hard, but I promise you, nobody I’ve met dislikes a chat when it arrives!

And if she responds, and if you both enjoyed talking here comes the important step:

Send another message, preferably soon, like the next day

When she responds you two can have another nice chat!

Then start another conversation the next day!

And the next!

And the next!!!

Don’t stop!

Stick with her!

As long as she responds, as long as you two enjoy talking, keep talking!

I can’t express this enough! Keep a diary if you have to! If stress about whether she enjoys talking gets in the way then ask her point blank!

But whatever you do! Don’t stop talking!

Keep sending the first message, ask to watch a movie together! To play that game she mentioned!!!

it’s easy to forget, we’re all busy and tired and scared, but just keep setting that small step each day! Get to know her!

And half a year from now you’ll find yourself with the best friend you’ve ever made!!!

[iminyourwallsbabe]

Arcane characters as different types of kpop enjoyers

Not stans, you'll see later.

Jinx- Hardcore noise music girlie. The more obnoxious the better. If the beat makes you audibly go "what the fuck is going on", she's eating that up. That's groups like Stray Kids, Ateez, NCT (don't ask which one, the answer is all of them), etc. She also likes G-Idle because Isha fucking loved Queencard and Wife and has since put those songs on Sevika's arm, much to her annoyance. It's grown on her though, since Isha quit being a trainee at Breathing entertainment (GET IT BECAUSE SHE'S-)

Vi- I don't think she'd like any particular group, if she comes across some kpop and it sounds good to her then it's whatever. She's shown some consistent interest in BTS' earlier music (so from like 2 Kool 4 Skool to The Most Beautiful Moment in Life). She doesn't understand the obsession some people have with it but she respects it to some extent. However some people think she's a huge kpop stan because she keeps going out to buy albums for Jinx. She used to just steal them but then she decided to date a COP and now she has to "obey the law" or whatever. Kinda cringe.

Caitlyn- Christian horse girl music. For the uninitiated, this is an unofficial sub genre of kpop. It's literally just the most squeaky clean, probably heard it in a kdrama type songs. So GFriend, Berry Good, Lovelyz, a little bit of Loona, April, Apink, WJSN. No this is not all she's ever been allowed to listen to, she acquired this taste herself. She's a basic bitch at heart and we love her for that ♥️

Jayce- Caitlyn may be basic, but this man is BASIC basic. knows two BTS songs and it's Dynamite and Butter. But good news! He's not completely out of the loop. He knows about the Butter remix with Megan Thee Stallion. He also liked Neva Play by Megan Thee Stallion, RM just happens to be on that song. And he listened to the Mamushi remix featuring Twice. Mamushi, by Megan Thee Stallion. Are we seeing a trend here, perchance? Anyway, besides that, remember when Jungkook was popping off in the states for his solo stuff back in 2023? He was into that too. In fact he still consistently listens to the Golden album. At some point he wanted to get into New Jeans but then he googled how old they were and said FFFFFFUCK NO. (Go ahead, look up how old they were when they debuted. Also, on that note, FUCK HYBE, WE'RE BOYCOTTING THEIR ASSES- or at least we were supposed to for the past year because they can't help but hire Zionist weirdos but people didn't get the memo till they fully fucked over New Jeans so)

Anyway, on with the post!

Viktor- He is all the way a Red Velvet stan. Their music is just calm enough to where he doesn't find it distracting and just hype enough for him not to find it boring. He's the type of guy who puts on music to hear it, not to forget it's playing. He usually keeps songs like Bad Boy, Feel My Rhythm, and Psycho in rotation. That's really all the kpop he listens to but he loves Aespa's aesthetics and lore. Does he understand what's going on? Vaguely. He doesn't have the time to do a deep dive but he knows enough to think it's cool. Jayce does too, mostly because of Viktor.

Heimerdinger- He's a Once, next question.

Mel- I'm not too sure how to categorize this, all I'm gonna say is that her taste matches her tax bracket. She's listening to Kiss of Life, IVE, Le Sserafim, Mamamoo, Chungha, and she's fully caught up on the scandals. She could tell you who Hyuna's married to and why that's a problem, she knows who shat on the floor at that one award show, why Jimin and Jeongyeon had beef, she can explain kpop pipelines you didn't know existed. Jayce will listen to all of this very intently even though he has no idea who the fuck these people are. Like at all. He's lost. She knows he doesn't really understand but she appreciates that he gives her the time of day. She's also the type of person to decorate her photocards, all the decorations are gold.

Ekko- He likes a lot of the same groups Jinx does but in a different way. The way she likes their insane, loud songs, he likes the ones that are a little more chill. But sometimes when he misses her, he'll play the songs she likes. So, that being said, it's entirely possible that he cried his eyes out to fucking Sticker by NCT 127 (I think? Idk I be forgetting). Like from the other room you'd hear some weird ass recorder noises and violent sobbing. Besides that, he also enjoys really obscure groups. He's the nugu king. Some of the artists on his Spotify wrapped have like 10,000 streams combined. Where did he find this? Nobody knows. He also likes K/DA and his bias is Akali. That makes more sense when you remember True Damage exists

[thehollowwriter]

I've been thinking about Nkulu and what he would sound like and how he would talk. He's got a heavy Xhosa accent when he speaks English or Japanese, and he uses a lot South African slang because though one parent was originally from (twst) Brazil, he was born and raised in (twst) South Africa which I think is at least in the Afterglow Savanah.

I thought I'd share some examples of slang and expressions, cause I think it would be fun to share with everyone and I don't really use South African slang online (I also think it's funny how confusing some of them can be. It feels like opposite day)

☆"Just now/now now"

The second one especially makes it sound like you mean right now at this second, but here it could be anytime between right now and tomorrow. "Go wash the dishes" "Yeah I'll do it now now" and "now now" could be in half an hour. Who knows.

☆"Shame"

Though it is used when expressing pity a lot ("Ag, shame that's terrible") it's also used in a positive way, mostly when referring to cute things. "Look at that kitten!" "Aww shame man." So uh dw we're not insulting your kitten/j

☆"Ja, nee:"

"Ja nee" is just "yes, no" in Afrikaans, and it's generally used similarly to "okay"/ to confirm or agree with something or to disagree with something. "Where you there yesterday?" Yeah, no, I was there." "The movie was good, right?" "Ja, nee I was a bit disappointed." Or just "Ja nee, I don't know."

☆"Jislaaik"

Pronounced "Yislike." Jislaaik is an Afrikaans expression of amazement, shock, or surpise. "Jislaaik that looks cool"

☆"Haibo"

(Hi-boh) This is a Zulu term that has a ton of meanings, but can basically be boiled down to an exclamation of surpise, shock, or disbelief. "Haibo, what happened?!"

☆"Yebo"

(Yeah-boh) Another Zulu term, this one means yes. However it's usually used as a very energetic and excited way of saying yes. "Hey, wanna hang out?" "Yebo!" "Hey, hey!" "Yebo?"

☆"Ag, nee man"

"Ag" is basically "Oh" (pronounced like how Germans pronounce "ach", according to Google, bc I literally have no idea how to describe the sound for G in Afrikaans sbsbdndn) "Nee, man" means "No, man." in Afrikaans. The man is pronounced "mun" kinda. The phrase is essentially a way of expressing frustration, pity, or disgust. "Ag nee man, did he really do that?"

☆"Eish"

Eish (E-sh) It's an expression of surpise for a lot of things line frustration, surpise, regret, or sympathy. (you can see we have a lot of those lol) "Eish man, that sucks."

☆"Lekker!"

(Leck-ir) There's no English equivalent for this word, but basically it's an informal Afrikaans word that has a lot of meanings depending on the context. It can mean something's great, cool, yummy, etc. "Oh, that food looks lekker." "Lekker braai, neh?" (A braai is basically a barbeque but we only cook with charcoal and it makes everything taste amazing. "Neh" is basically just our "Eh")

-

So yeah that's my little list of slang words! I hope you guys found it interesting!

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly @jovieinramshackle

@galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00 @krenenbaker

@offorestsongs @kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @inotonline

@1dont-really-know @kazumify @minteasketches @elysia-nsimp @skrimpyskimpy

@casp1an-sea @offorestsongs @tixdixl @poisoned-pearls @the-trinket-witch

@ramshacklerumble @ghostiidasponk @thegoldencontracts @sillyslipperybananapeel @cloudcountry

@skriblee-ksk @twstinginthewind @lumdays @theolivetree123 @natsukishinomiyaswife

@authoruio @jewelulu @raguiras @moonyasnow @skibidibabygirl

@quartztwst @yuizenihaswriten @devosin @oya-oya-okay @b0njourbeach

@kirans-wonderland @coffinkissez @idikeis @s-t-y-x @tixdixl

[urauntiefaye]

slytherin!quidditch player!leehan when you mocked him for losing the match against gryffindor

Slytherin!Leehan Oneshot🧙🏻‍♂️🌸

WC: 1142

TW: Kissing, Enemies to lovers, Didn't say readers house I don't think, but low-key implied to be Hufflepuff?. Not proof Read, let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Ngl the ending got a little sloppy and rushed because I just didn't know how to end this.

You weren’t even a Gryffindor yourself, in fact you found most Gryffindors annoying with how they always howled out loud in the hallways and in the dinner hall. Always running around acting like their hot shit. So you cheering for Gryffindor during this quidditch match didn’t even really make sense. Honestly you being at the Quidditch match didn’t make sense in the first place considering this was a Slytherin vs Gryffindor match. Quite literally the only reason you’re here is because your best friend has a fat ass crush on the Gryffindor boy Jaehyun.

On the contrary though, no matter how much you didn’t like Gryffindor, it didn’t nearly match the burning hatred you had for a very certain Slytherin named Leehan. You typically didn’t have any issues with Slytherins, always kind of just co-existed with each other. But it seemed that the universe had other plans for you.

It all started in potions class, professor Slughorn had all of you form into groups of three to prepare the Draught of Peace potion. What Slughorn hadn’t taken into consideration was that two students would conveniently be left out. Both you and Leehan not having a group to join were forced to partner up together. Which you originally had no problem with, until Leehan decided to make you do all of the work while he napped and when it came to the show n’ tell part he took all of the credit.

Yes, you could’ve let this go, you really could’ve. But the stupid fucking look on his face pissed you off, he looked so calm and neutral during the whole thing. As if it was no big deal!?, the sheer audacity this man had.

But you held your tongue and decided to calmly confront Leehan about the situation, hell maybe it was just a misunderstanding?...It was not, when you approached Leehan in the dining hall and asked him about it, he just stared at you and asked why it mattered, you both got the credit anyways. He acted as if he didn’t care, and that’s what upset you the most about him. He never showed much emotion, always having a bored expression. Which was the complete opposite of you, you always felt every emotion to its fullest, you were practically built to have the inability to just not care unlike Leehan.

However, Leehan despite his cool exterior he had found an interest in you. He was intrigued with how much you expressed yourself, always showcasing what you felt. Leehan had grown up in a family where showing any sign of emotion was for the weak. His father told him at a young age “never let others know how you feel, they will use it to control you”. So he often found himself purposely doing things to you to invoke any kind of reaction; from making you do his homework, stealing your food, and even pulling harmless pranks on you was worth it. What made him even more enthralled was that you never really yelled at him, only lectured him. But even your lecturing was nothing compared to what he’s used to from his family. It was odd to say the least, but what got his blood really pumping was when he just so happened to stumble across you helping the bowtruckles cross over the lake without being washed away. The way the sun shined on you, causing a halo like effect surrounding you, the way your lips formed in the most beautiful enchanting smile he’s ever seen. Not to mention how gently you spoke and praised them, your voice sounding the way honey coated around sweet almonds with each “good job” and “you’re doing amazing”. He didn’t know what it was or even why, but he had to hear you speak to him like that, he needed you too.

When he overheard that you would be attending the quidditch match he was overjoyed. He beamed at the thought of you being there as it was an opportunity to hear you applaud him and tell him that he was amazing and did an excellent job. Leehan however failed to take into consideration the possibility of his team losing. He was embarrassed, it wasn’t even a close match, a ten-fifty score. What didn’t help was when he looked at you after the announcement that Gryffindor had won he saw you laughing. You were happy that he lost? You found joy through his failure. Leehan was pissed, not being able to take the image of you jumping up and down with your friend as you both smiled with such an elated expression.

Practically knocking over some of his own teammates as he didn’t even bother going to the locker rooms to get change. Instead making a B-line directly to you, his face unreadable as you looked up at him with confusion wondering what he wanted. Not even thinking he would grab your wrist and drag you away from your friends. Putting up a fight you would try to pry his hand off your wrist which to no avail did nothing. Eventually giving up you stopped your little antics, coming to the realization that he wasn’t going to let you go. Opting to just follow him in silence as he leads you to the astronomy tower. It was only then when you arrived that he let your wrist go, however not giving you much time he pushed you against the nearest wall. His face is only centimeters from you. “Enjoy your fun?” He'd ask in a low voice, send shivers throughout your body. “Wh-what do you mean?” Asking him nervously, your eyes looking anywhere but his face. Locking them on his collar bones thinking it was the safest option. His hand wrapped around your jaw, slightly squeezing as he made you look at him. “Don't act dumb, I saw you laughing with your stupid friend”, gulping at his actions but also the fact that he saw you. Not knowing how to respond, you just stood there. He won't let you go, his stare so intense but with something you never saw before. Next thing you knew his lips were in yours. They were cold from the nip air, and a little wet. Your eyes widened as you didn't expect him to kiss you. But something else is telling you to kiss him back. Your lips molding into his, resting your hands on his chest. Pulling ever so slightly, lips still grazing against your as he spoke. “Don't ever cheer for Gryffindor again” not giving you time to respond he'd pull you by the back of your neck into a kiss again. This time passionate, his tongue even slipping past your lips gliding against your wet muscle.

It was at this moment, this night, that you never cheered for Gryffindor or laughed at him ever again.

[kisolvetica]

Hello!!! Thanks for the tag!! <3 Didn't expect to be tagged to be honest but I'm glad I did get tagged! :D

Also I must say everyone who reblogged before me sounds like such cool people! :>

Last song: American Jesus by Bad Religion! At first I wanted to say a Bowie song because I was listening to it all day due to it having been his death anniversary but then my playlist thought to be like "I don't think so!" and played a different song I like. I am pretty much a person who listens to everything.

Favourite colour: Despite my layout having purple and blue as the primary colours, my favourite colours are yellow (especially the yellow daffodils have) and dark green! Obviously I also like my layout colours but I'd say green and yellow just feel so soothingly happy to me.

Last Book: I am currently reading Faust 1 by Goethe because my finals are creeping up and it's one of the books I may need for those lol. But I also enjoy the book quite a lot!

Last movie: The phantom of the opera! I watched it together with my mother one random evening last year and I haven't watched any movie since then. I do want to watch Nosferatu next, though!

Last TV show: My mother and I have started watching a lot of shows together (this includes DBDA but it was too gay to handle for her conservative mind and she noped out after the cat king was introduced) and the latest is "From" it's not really popular, I think, at least it doesn't have a lot of Fanfics but I did enjoy the first season. I am a little sceptical about how they always introduce a bunch of characters but I hope that they flesh them out! It does have sapphics though so that's a win.

Sweet/Spicy/Savoury: I do have a big sweet tooth but I think outside of snacks and chocolate I am more of a fan of spicy food? Like, if someone asked me whether I'd want a spicy or a sweet dish for dinner, Id probably be more inclined to choose the spicy one.

Last thing I searched online: I researched for a fanfic I want to write and so it's "Boarding schools in Edwardian Britain" (now take a big guess for which fandom!! It's so niche you will never figure it out /s)

Current Obsession: My obsession with Genshin and HSR is dying down quite a bit (let's face it, it's the fandom's fault) And now my focus is back on demons and Greek Mythology. I have the want to get into Athuriana literature as well but ugh I'm too busy for this. Outside of occultism and mythology, yeah, obviously DBDA. It hit me HARD and I'm not mad!!! ... Also my own OCs but that's something only I can fix.

Looking forward to: Graduation!! Yes, everyone is telling me that it only gets worse from now on (which,,, very promising btw) but I am so glad when I leave this school. At least at university I can choose a bit more of what I want to do. I am also gonna get a therapist which I am in dire need of and hopefully try to get gender affirming care at the end of the year. I already have a job lined up so the only other things I want to achieve this year is finishing up my driver's license and get the scholarship I applied for but that part is something I have no control over! Also, I might need to look out for apartments because of a reason surrounding my family situation but, well, I prefer living alone anyway. Just gotta see how I'm gonna support myself.

Ten people I'd like to know better: You know, I don't even know if I know the blog names of ten separate people or if they're even okay with me tagging them (what's the etiquette for that? I know that some other platforms were rather... nasty about it). So,,, if you come across this and you want to do this, I always like to read about other people's interests!! So pretend I tagged you, if we're mutuals or I follow you, I do know and like you, I am just an awkward person who doesn't know how to act with people :).

10 People I'd Like to Know Better

Thanks for the tags @gaiaseyes451 and @beerok23!💜!💜

last song: Gloria by the Lumineers

favourite colour: Red, like a deep luscious red that you know would taste good if you licked it. Don't act innocent, you know exactly what I mean by that. Red is a color that you just know tastes good.

last book: I am currently trying to read the Witcher series (per @lickthecowhappy's suggestion) so I am at the start of the Last Wish

last movie: Moana 2 (I have young kidsssss)

last TV show: My oldest is almost 10 which means she stays up late. Which also means I have so little time to watch adult things. So we've been watching the Office with her. I think I want to watch the Good Place with her next tho (I've never watched it!)

sweet/spicy/savoury: Sweet followed very, very closely by spicy. Habanero maple syrup is one of my favorite things on the planet.

last thing i searched online: How to explain a 10 year career hiatus in a cover letter (looking to return to work since having kids. It's been an interesting experience so far).

current obsession: Have not moved on from Good Omens, but recently realized that my obsession may be more in my own little connected universe of fics that I wrote rather than the actual canon at this point😳. I'm sure once we get that first glimpse of red and white hair that will change very quickly.

looking forward to: Going back to work and having a more established adult life again, honestly. I've been so lucky to be home with my kids while they are young, but I am ready. And figuring out how my newfound passion for writing is going to fit into that new life of mine. Another big year of change over here for me, and I am eagerly looking forward to how the growing pains are going to make way for something beautiful beyond.

ten people i’d like to know better:

@addledmongoose, @di-42, @afrenchwriter, @haemey, @eybefioro, @alwaystuesday, @katspause, @alphacentaurinebula, @shadesofecclescakes, @ochre-sunflower and whoever wants to do it (but also feel free to ignore!)

[schlatt-love-bot]

yuck! part 2 - schlatt x reader

[part one, part 1.5, part two (currently reading)]

now listening: yuck - charli xcx 0:40 ──❍──── 2:19 ↻ ⊲  Ⅱ  ⊳  ↺

“Uhh…hi. I guess we’re partners?” You chuckled, sitting in the empty desk next to Schlatt, as he glanced up, about to grumble something about just splitting the work 50/50 and never speaking again, until he locked eyes with yours. He felt oddly entranced, needing to know more about this mysterious person he was suddenly partnered with. 

“Uhhh, yeah…assuming you’re (Y/N), right?” He said, leaning back in his chair as he looked at the Canvas tab with “PARTNER PROJECT - GROUPING LIST,” reading your name as it was typed on the list next to his own.

“Yep, that’s me. Wanna get started now, or just bullshit and figure it out later?” You smiled, placing your laptop down on the desk next to him, pulling out the seat before sitting down. He smiled, putting his hands behind his head.

“What…are you not interested in 20th Century Russian Literature or somethin’?” He let out a laugh, watching you crinkle your nose in disdain.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t take you as a guy who was into Vladimir Mayakovsky...” You scoffed, opening your laptop to open a Google Doc, assuming you were about to be doing some work in the next half an hour left in this class. Smirking, Schlatt reached over, closing your laptop screen. 

“What the hell, dude?” You looked over at him, his smirk starting to piss you off. 

“You really thought we were going to work right now…? Be so serious..” He laughed, grabbing his bag before signalling you to follow him. You shook your head in disbelief, looking around. Most of the other people in class had left, your professor giving you time to head to the library with your partners to find the specific pieces of literature you were studying, so you assumed that's where you were heading. 

“Needed to get out of there…” He laughed, opening the door for you as the cool fall New York air pricked at your skin. You nodded your head, agreeing with his statement.

“So, to the library we go, then?” You asked, slinging your backpack on your shoulder, quickening your steps to keep up with his long, yet slow, strides. He let out a laugh, one that began to warm you in the pit of your stomach, filling you with butterflies. 

“Hell no…just didn’t want our professor to overhear us talkin’ shit on his class…gotta keep up that good grade, yknow?” He chuckled. Listening to him talking, you realized you had recognized his voice as the one person who spoke at least a little bit of Russian in the class, and managed to understand the stories in the language they were written in to discuss in class. Your eyes widened only slightly, raising an eyebrow at him.

“You mean to tell me…you don’t actually like Russian literature? You speak Russian!” 

“Only bits and pieces, princess. Besides…it’s so fuckin’ boring. Learned Russian in high school because it sounded fun…thought if I took this elective course it would be the same. Clearly I was wrong because this is the stupidest fuckin’ class I’ve ever taken.” He groaned, your mind only able to focus on his usage of ‘princess,’ trying to hide the heat you could feel creeping across your cheeks. You hummed, nodding at him. 

“Honestly…I signed up for the wrong class. Thought I clicked on 20th Century American Literature, and not Russian…shouldn’t have scheduled my classes at 2 AM, I guess.” I said, laughing at the memory. I saw him begin to smile, shaking his head. 

“Got partnered with someone who often operates in delirium? God really must hate me..” He groaned, opening the door to the student union center, walking to a bustling common area. You knew you just met the guy, but he was already beginning to feel like a close friend, close enough that you took your hand and swatted him on the shoulder, giving him a disappointed look. 

“Hey! I’m not that bad, I don’t make all my decisions while delirious! Just…some of them.” You said, crossing your arms with a huff. Schlatt smiled, staring at you, an unfamiliar warm sensation filling his gut. It honestly made him kind of queasy, swallowing down…whatever it was with a shake of his head, moving on with the conversation at hand. Schlatt swore to himself that day that he would never let that feeling back into his body if he had any say about it.

“Hey…did you hear me?” You asked, snapping your fingers in front of his face, as Schlatt was shook back to reality, away from that distant memory. His spine chilled with the memory of your meeting, the familiar queasy feeling creeping back into his gut as he faced you. 

“Y-Yeah…I did. Thanks, toots. You’re not half bad yourself…” He felt the need to swallow imaginary bile down his throat as he choked out a sentence or two, not wanting to piss you off. He hated having these…feelings. Not used to them, he shook his head slightly, wanting to clear his mind. 

You frowned, hoping he wouldn’t see your upset in the darkness of the night. You rolled back onto your back, looking up at the stars once more, as if you were seeking an answer. Why was he being like this? Were you really such a bad person? Why couldn’t he open himself up to the possibility of more? 

He, too, returned his gaze to the night sky, asking his own series of questions to higher powers. Why was he feeling so…mushy? Was it worth it, to let down his guard and accept thoughts of…settling down? Why did he feel so nervous all of a sudden when he looked at you? Speaking of you…he glanced over, noting the obvious sadness in your face. Sighing, he pulled you closer to his chest, gently whispering in your hair. 

“It’s nothin’ against you, toots. Just…wasn’t expectin’ you to come out ‘n say that…” He mumbled, taking in the moment with you. You sighed, knowing you couldn’t keep yourself mad at him for too long, though your gut began to churn.

“It’s…it’s alright. We should be getting back to the cabin…it’s getting late, and I’m getting cold.” You said, sitting up. He sighed, following in suit standing up as he held out his hand, grabbing yours to help you stand up. Silently, he picked up the blanket, wrapped an arm around your shoulder, silently making your way back to the cabin. 

The air was tense when you walked in, a lot of unspoken words that were needing to be shared between you both…yet nothing happened. You both went your separate ways for the night, you doing your skincare routine, changing into more comfortable clothes, as you began to wander the cabin, hoping Schlatt would be out of whatever funk he was in, so you could talk.

Tiptoeing down the stairs, you saw Schlatt outside on the porch, leaning against the railings looking out into the night. You could tell by the look on his face he was still engulfed in his thoughts, so you decided to not instigate and rather cozy up in your room for the rest of the night. You got comfortable in your bed, turning on a bedside lamp as you pulled the book you were reading from out of your bag, deciding to get a chapter or two in before you inevitably fell asleep for the night. 

Outside, Schlatt sighed, bringing his hands up to his face, trying to rid himself of all of the…confusion and feelings he was currently having. He liked to live his life plain and simple–nothing with strings attached, really only ever relying on himself for anything he needed. Being alone was simple to him, he was able to get work done, live the life he needed to live, and he had the connections that were necessary to fulfill certain human needs, social and physical. Now, two years into this friends with benefits situation the two of you had created for yourself, he found himself stuck, these unfamiliar feelings occurring way too often recently, and he had noticed your change in demeanor, clearly wanting something more from the connection you were having. 

“I can’t keep fuckin’ doing this…” he grumbled to himself, resting his elbows on the railing below, looking up towards the sky. The last time he felt like this was when he met you in college, swallowing the feelings back then because he knew there was no way in fucking hell a person like you would like a guy like him. He was cocky, didn’t give two fucks what anyone thought about him, and, admittedly, didn’t take as much care of himself as he probably should’ve. He glanced down at himself, seeing the weight he had added on in an attempt to make himself less attractive to the people who were constantly thirsting over him online every day, shaking his head. Now that these feelings were bubbling back up about you, he began to feel the same way he did back then—trying to act self-assured, but really, deep down, he was insecure, thinking he wasn’t enough for you. He thought he heard the wooden floors inside the cabin creak, and in his attempt to not show any moment of weakness to you, he rolled his shoulders back, taking a deep breath before turning around. No one was there…he sighed. Shaking his head, he decided it would be best to head in for the night, maybe he could see if you were still up and apologize for the way he acted while you were star gazing. He really was an asshole at that moment, but it was completely unintentional. It was like his brain had shut off, unable to understand whether or not that statement was in a platonic way, or if you had meant more by it, and he was forced to go back to his factory settings of being a dickhead and pushing everyone away. He grumbled to himself, checking to make sure the fire would be plenty to keep you both warm for the night before heading up the stairs, looking for you. 

He walked into the room you had decided was his, first, seeing how you nicely placed his bag on his bed, having taken out his pajama shorts and a black t-shirt, knowing how he probably would’ve wanted to immediately change into something more comfortable when you came back from star gazing. He sighed, shaking his head. No matter how big of a dick he was towards you, you always showed him just how much you genuinely cared for him. He felt a pang of guilt surging through his body, knowing that you were probably still upset, sulking somewhere instead of enjoying one another’s company as was planned when you both first arrived. 

“Really do know how to fuck up a good thing, don’t I?” He whispered, leaving the room and heading to the one that he knew must’ve been yours. He saw a soft light seeping from under the door, thinking you were still awake he lightly tapped on the door.

“Toots? You still awake…?” He called out, tapping once more before deciding to open the door to peek in. It’s not like he hasn’t seen you naked before, hell, his face, tongue, hands, and cock have thoroughly explored every part of your body, but he still didn’t want to intrude in your personal space. Taking a peek in, he sighed in relief, noting that you were asleep, book in your hand with the bedside lamp on. He shook his head, chuckling to himself about your position before walking in. He gently took the book out of your hands, gently placing your bookmark in the place you were at, as he knew from prior experience you would be exponentially pissed off at him if he messed with where you left off in your book. He watched you gently, wanting to see if you were stirring at all before gently shifting you into a more comfortable position as he pulled a blanket up over your body. He placed the book on your bedside table, shutting off the light before leaving the room, staying as silent as possible as he closed the door and went into his own room. He began to change, placing his bag on the ground before climbing into bed himself. 

“Fuck me…” He groaned, tossing over to lay on his side, “fuck these stupid feelins…shit’s not worth it..” his mind continued to race, bouncing between his vow to himself to never let himself slip up and have feelings for anyone, and the way his heart began to beat out of his chest the moment he met eyes with you. He still felt he was right in his beliefs, that having feelings did, indeed, make situations tougher to deal with, but he started to feel a sensation in his gut that was telling him just to give it a chance. It was…it was almost like butterflies, swirling around in his stomach, causing him to groan. He swallowed, before closing his eyes, hoping that exhaustion would kick in and cause him to forget about all these funny feelings in the morning. 

Light began to enter your room through the sheer curtains, causing you to begin to wake yourself up. You glanced around, not recalling getting into bed like this, and began to panic as you realized you had no idea where your book was. You quickly sat up, throwing around your blanket before turning to the bedside table, sighing as you saw your book placed gently on top. Looking at the way the bookmark was angled, the cute cat’s head meekly popping out above the pages, you knew exactly who did it…Schlatt. You sighed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before deciding to slip on your slippers and head out of the room. The fire must’ve burned out in the night, as the coolness of the cabin nipped at your arms, causing you to reach for one of the hoodies you had packed, pulling it over your head before leaving. You listened once you left your room, trying to hear if Schlatt was already up or not, ultimately deciding to peek into his room. You saw him tucked in his covers, slightly curled up, sleeping away. You smiled to yourself, the yearning in your chest telling you to join him making you sigh. Silently, you wished you could join him, curling up beside him, rubbing his sides to wake him. After last night though, you weren’t sure where things were between the two of you, so you shut his door gently, heading downstairs to begin making some breakfast before inevitably waking him up to get the fire going again.

 

Schlatt laid on the bed, wide awake, his thoughts not allowing him to get a proper night's worth of sleep. He heard the door open, saw the light come in, and silently wished you would come over and join him, hoping to smooth things over with you and reestablish boundaries. He wasn’t sure what those new boundaries would be, but he was hoping it would provide him with reasons not to further develop any more feelings for you, as he was already wildly out of his element with the feelings he was having. He quickly became disappointed, seeing you leave without saying a word. Upon opening the door, he began to feel just how cold the cabin had turned, giving him a chill. He knew sooner or later he would need to go downstairs not only needing to restart the fire, but also needing to talk to you. Groaning, he stood up from bed with a slight stretch, changing into a hoodie and some sweatpants–his shorts were definitely not going to be warm enough this morning when there was no fire in the heater. He braced himself, knowing he needed to get his thoughts in order before facing you. Rolling his shoulders back, he quietly left the comfort of his room and headed down the stairs. 

You quietly hummed to yourself, making up some eggs as the coffee finished brewing in the pot. You turned around to grab two mugs, anticipating Schlatt to join you rather soon, knowing the cold would get to him eventually as it was getting to you. Footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs as your back was turned, your actions slowing so you didn’t have to turn and face him right away. 

“Mornin’ toots…lemme get that fire goin’ again.” He said quietly, slipping on his boots to check out the firewood.

“Mornin’, thanks.” You sweetly said, turning around to watch him slide his boots on and walk away, sighing. You began to make yours and his coffee, placing the mugs to the side as you then continued to being plating your breakfast. Grabbing his and your mugs, you shuffled into the living room, where Schlatt was loading firewood into the burner, beginning to kindle it with a firestarter. 

“I’ll make a mental note to tell Tucker the next time we see him that you used a fire starter in the heater.” You giggled, recalling Schlatt’s annoyance towards Tucker’s disdain over fire starters in a previous conversation, causing Schlatt to laugh before looking up at you. It was like the tension that hung heavily in the air between you had been lifted slightly, as you gestured his mug in your hand towards him. Taking the mug happily, he smiled, quickly thanking you before returning his attention back to the fire. 

“Sorry, didn’t feel like sittin’ here like a caveman while we’re freezing our asses off in here this morning.” He let out a light laugh, watching as the fire finally began to spread a little, the heat immediately doing wonders to the overall temperature of the cabin. You sighed, feeling a little more comfortable now that it was going, nodding my head in the direction of the kitchen. 

“C’mon, big guy. Made breakfast, just eggs and toast, though. I thought we packed bacon but apparently we never did.” You laughed, placing your mug down on the smaller two-seat table by the biggest bay window in the cabin before grabbing our plates, joining him there.

“What good is this when there’s no meat, toots?” He teased, shaking his head in your direction. 

“Hey! Don’t shoot the cook, made do with what the packer packed!” You teased back, knowing he was the one who put together a bag of food items for the two of you on our way out. He jokingly put his hands up in defense, causing both of you to laugh. The silence overtook quickly, as we both ate, avoiding the topic of last night all together. Silently, you wondered if there was any way we could just avoid the topic all together, go back to our lives the way they were, and somehow, some way, in some form get over your stupid crush on him all together. 

“So…sorry for bein’ such a dick last night.” He said, quietly, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear him. You sighed, the inevitable has struck. Let’s see where this goes…

“Don’t sweat it. I shouldn’t’ve put you on the spot like that.” He sighed, shaking his head. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong…I just wasn’t expectin’ it. That’s all…” It was your turn to let out a sigh, now. You knew he wasn’t really ready to start moving in the direction you wanted things to move in, but you still continued to push that line. Now, it’s made things awkward, and you truly regretted your actions. 

“I slipped up. I meant it and all…but I know you. Should’ve warmed you up to the compliment before just shoving it your way…it’s my fault.” 

“Hey, now…never said I didn’t enjoy it. Just threw me for a loop. We were supposed to be lookin’ at the stars, not one another.” He joked, making you smile. 

“Alright, I’ll give you that one. But…I couldn’t really help myself…” Your voice trailed off as your bottom lip went between your teeth. His eyebrow raised, and you could tell that he was using all his power not to just act. 

“Oh, really? Why’s that, sweetheart?” 

“Mmm…you’re very tempting, that’s all…” He let out a low growl, and needless to say the conversation was paused at this point, as he took you upstairs. 

The rest of your cabin weekend went rather smoothly. After making up with one another, things went quickly, and before you knew it you were back at your shared New York apartment, back to the daily grind. Back to the same old life you lived before, working all day, making love once or twice before going to bed in your separate rooms. You were sick of this cycle, needing more since the moment you briefly shared in the cabin. 

Schlatt was a mess mentally since the cabin weekend getaway, still conflicted in what he was feeling. The newly identified butterflies in his stomach constantly making him feel ill on a daily basis. He couldn’t even simply look at you before starting to feel sick, but he tried his best to tough it out so you wouldn’t catch on to his slow yearning. He began working later, sleeping with you just enough to make you think that things were fine between you, needing and using any excuse to stay a safe distance away from you in hopes that his thoughts and feelings would subside. He opened one of his desk drawers, pulling out the paper contract the two of you had made all those years ago. Sighing, he saw both your signatures scrawled on the bottom, the line above it reading ‘absolutely no falling in love, whatsoever!’

Fuck, man… he thought to himself, we’ve really fucked this whole deal over, haven’t we?

He was so lost in his own thoughts, he hadn’t heard you open the door to his office behind him, with the intention of asking him whether or not he was joining you for dinner, or if he was busy working again. Seeing the contract in his hand, your breath got stuck in your throat. 

“What…what are you looking at that, for?” Your voice was just above a whisper, still causing him to jump.

“Fuck…” He groaned, putting the paper down on his desk, not turning to look at you. You walked in, leaning on the corner of his desk, looking down at him. 

“No…no. Tell me. What are you looking at that for, Schlatt?” You said, crossing your arms. It was about time the two of you finally talked about it all, but you were terrified of things that this conversation could cause, in turn. His lack of eye contact with you spoke volumes, the silence laying on your shoulders like a thousand bricks. 

“I…fuck.” He began to explain, finally looking towards you, shaking his head, “I needed a reminder. To remember where we started off at.” His head fell into his hands, looking back up to you after a moment before pushing his hair back through his fingers. You raised an eyebrow at him, skeptical.

“A reminder, huh? Of what exactly?” 

“All of our agreed rules, what we expected from one another.” He sighed, trying his best to read your expression. 

“Why? Where is this coming from..?” You whispered, afraid he was catching on to just how badly you had caught feelings for him.

“I…I don’t know. I don’t know, it’s all confusing.” He hesitated in continuing, making you think he was hinting at your feelings for him. You sighed, shaking your head, realizing this might be the only moment you have to confess before he changes his mind. 

“Alright, I’m sorry. I guess I’ve been…violating our contract. Might’ve developed some feelings…” He didn’t look at you as you confessed to him, lost in thought. 

“Earth to Jay..hello?” You started to get angry at his lack of response, “I understand you’re probably upset with me, but if we want this to work between us, we need to talk about it! Giving me the silent treatment and avoiding me isn’t going to do anything.” 

He was still rendered silent, your sudden confession catching him slightly off guard. Sure, he had his suspicions, but he didn’t expect you to just come out and say it. He started to feel that sick feeling making its way through his gut. You could barely make his face out, tears welling so strongly in your eyes. 

“Fuck you, dude…” You choked out, leaving him alone in his office. He groaned, realizing he had made this into a bigger issue than it needed to be because of his inability to formulate a response. Swallowing the bile making its way up his throat back down, he swiftly got out of his desk chair and followed after you. 

“(Y/N)...wait!” He said, seeing your bedroom door slam shut. He sighed, walking closer. He could hear you getting into your bed, light sobs coming from you. 

“(Y/N)...please. Open the door, we need to talk about this..”

“Should’ve thought about that earlier, asshole!” You croaked out, tears streaming down your cheeks as you stared at your ceiling. How could he? How could he do that, and then expect you to want to calmly sit down and talk through it all? You shouldn’t even be entertaining the thought, let alone give him the pleasure of thinking of him at all. 

“Fuck, I know! I know, I know I should’ve. I should’ve been thinking about all this a hell of a lot sooner!” His voice grew angry, his head leaning on the door with a thud. You laid silently, letting the tears fall as he continued. 

“You can’t just hide in there forever, toots…” He said softly, pleading to be let in. You continued to lay, wanting him to get a taste of his own medicine for once in his life. 

He hated the feeling in his gut, but he was so conflicted. His heart was telling him to confess, get over this bump in the road, and move on, trying this whole “love” thing for the first time in a long time. His head, though, told him the logical move was ending it all and becoming a recluse, the only thing he could trust to satisfy his sexual needs no strings attached was his own left hand. 

“Please, princess. Open the door.” You felt numbed, unable to move, in disbelief that this was even happening. 

“Why, so you can tell me we need to end things? That I ruined a perfectly good thing by letting my stupid feelings get in the way? So that you can hang this over my head, as proof that nothing good ever comes from having feelings of any kind for someone?” You said, beginning to let yourself get angry as you neared the door, slowly opening it. You weren’t prepared for what you saw—a red-eyed, tear-stained Schlatt, hands in his pockets looking defeated. 

“Not your feelings that are stupid, toots… it's mine.”