#especially not fuckin high school

[captainjonnitkessler]

The American urge to insist that if your overworked, underpaid high school teachers with 30 kids per class didn't spoon-feed every piece of information about a topic to you, it's because there's a vast government conspiracy to prevent you from learning about it

[flowerakatsuka]

guess those feelings are gonna stay unrequited, huh? — ( feat. @laurzvahll's sol! )

[primamchorus]

Work distractions...

[lonelyplanetfag]

sorry 4 being depressed on the dash but i just realized i havent hung out with anybody my age on the weekend for two years straight unless i was doing smth school related n as someone who spent his whole childhood looking forward to being a teenager that just kinda sucks

[houseofdracula]

all the shit that happened to Nex is so scary. I remember hiding from people in bathroom stalls in high school for the same reason, having security called on me twice for using the girls bathroom, even when that's what I was "supposed to" be doing. it's devastating this is still going on and only getting worse. I can't even fucking imagine the pain their loved ones are feeling rn.

[starkeyisthelastname]

Dilf!rafe is athletic, muscular, and lean. And I see reader as a super hot curvy milf. Her pregnancies made her bigger, and love is feral for her.

the way he still grabs onto you in the most protective and loving way 😍

I see this as if you were to get pregnant when the two of you were older. With the kids in high school, getting prepared for a newborn again was something that almost felt foreign to the both of you. Another thing that was also different was the amount of weight you had gained this time around. You no longer had the body you did when were pregnant at 18 and 20 years old. You were in your thirties now and had filled out, being pregnant had only made you even more curvy.

You having his child again made Rafe worship the ground you walked on even more. He found you so incredibly gorgeous and his large hands were constantly wanting to caress your plush body that was all round with his baby. When your hormones had you feeling needy, you already knew he would take care of you. He’d let out a breathless chuckle as he slowly slid into your sopping hole, his blue eyes watching your mouth fall open in a silent moan.

The way he looked had your head spinning. His body was so massive, his constant need to work out and play sports showing off as his muscles flexed with each deep thrust he gave your cunt. He’d squeeze your hips in his possessive grip, a low groan escaping from as he watched your heavy tits bounce. “Fuck…you’re stunning.” He rasped out, his buzzed head leaning down to capture one of your swollen nipples in his mouth.

You let out a small gasp, your manicured hand coming to rest on the back of his soft buzzcut. He greedily sucked on your sensitive nipple, his toned hips pounding at a steady rhythm into yours. You had been a little insecure about gaining weight, especially when your husband took such good care of his body. He reassured you though constantly how beautiful you were carrying his child and went crazy for your curves. “I love you baby, you’re so fuckin’ good to me. So fuckin’ perfect.” He groaned, hands holding your fleshy waist in a loving grip.

Since you were pregnant and he couldn’t be too rough with you, but he still made sure you knew who daddy was. He’d admired your pretty self, his ocean irises heavy as had he you a whining mess and leaking all over his thick cock. You looked incredible under him, he was wild about you and how goddamn amazing you were.

[yogurtkags]

❝ HUSH ❞ — sakusa kiyoomi

cw. f!reader, fluff, olympics au, athletic trainer!reader, timeskip characters, established relationship, secret marriage, language (omi swears like once), not beta read (sorry!) word count. ~ 1.6k

“japan’s outside hitter sakusa kiyoomi and newly revealed wife, athletic trainer y/n l/n, steals the spotlight in the city of love!”

@tetzoro's summer olympics collab

your eyes glance in his direction, letting it linger on his figure as the team settles down into their corner. he’s a little tense, understandably so– it’s his first time at the olympics, and with the pressure of the finals sitting on his shoulders, the nerves are showing, though carefully hidden behind his standard resting face that you can see through so well. the lights hanging along the ceilings of the south paris arena cast a tasteful warm glow along the contours of his face. despite the subconscious clenched jaw and slightly downturned lips that make you want to kiss the frown off so badly, there’s a shine in his eyes like no other.

the last few days have been pretty rough, of stiff beds, subpar food and sleeping without kiyoomi. you know he feels the same if the progressively increasing frequency of late night calls and texts are any indication. with the boys sharing rooms in twos amongst themselves and the rest of the team’s staff being housed in a separate wing of the building, falling asleep in his arms was a faraway thought since you arrived at the olympic village.

loml ♡ : miya snores so fuckin’ loudly i can’t handle this me : well it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve dealt with it baby loml ♡ : i still think we should’ve fought harder for us sharing a room

he drifts off into slumber easily after washing up and getting his fill of talking to you (never enough), the mental and physical fatigue of matches and practices in between taking a toll on his body, but for you, being wrapped in his warm embrace was the perfect recipe and vital to a good night's sleep. it’s safe to say that you haven’t been sleeping well for the past week.

it didn’t help that being sworn to secrecy about your relationship also meant that any interactions you had with him outside being the team’s athletic trainer was like treading on eggshells. it feels like you’re in high school again, sitting next to him in the dining hall during meal times with your clasped hands hidden under the table from watchful eyes, his thumb rubbing soft circles against the back of your hand or squeezing ever so often, as if to affirm his presence and silently reassure that i’m here.

it seems to be a trend lately for athletes to be active on their social media platforms, be it their team’s or just a personal account, recounting stories or even taking avid viewers through “a day in the life of an olympic athlete” — without looking too far, even miya jumped on the bandwagon, often seeing suna running around filming short clips of their shenanigans in free pockets of time during the day. you and kiyoomi talked about it before the season began, keeping any non-professional interactions to a minimum. there’s eyes everywhere and it’s better to be safe than sorry.

both of you are very private people, it was only natural that you preferred to keep your personal life and matters to yourselves behind closed doors. this ended up being a double-edged sword, because everyone wants to be all up in your business, especially kiyoomi who finds himself in the spotlight more often, being apart of the “young handsome eligible bachelors” of the MSBY 4 and now one of the most sought-after new additions to japan’s national team.

you on the other hand, were better known by twitter as “the pretty trainer” from the shweiden adlers and now the national team, standing next to another fan-favourite, iwaizumi hajime. thankfully your role is kept more so behind the scenes, checking on the players during games and making sure they remain in tip-top shape on and off the court.

being the quiet and brooding one amongst outgoing chatterboxes meant that the media would try to dig any information out of kiyoomi, but prying interviewers and prodding questions towards him and his love life were smoothly deflected and brushed aside, the boys even coming to his defense if anyone got too pushy with it, which you were beyond thankful for. not that they needed to most of the time, he’s known to be curt with his responses and quick to bring the topic back to the game, and no one likes a snappy sakusa anyway, many have learned this the hard way.

just months prior to the both of you getting called in to begin training for the olympics and before schedules start to pick up, you had a small private wedding in your hometown with just close friends and family, the ceremony kept under lock and key and tucked away from the public eye. it made it all the more intimate, more like a quiet gathering to celebrate your union than a grand spectacle, which suited you perfectly. the honeymoon hasn’t happened yet with the timing of everything, you’re saving it for post-season when you both can finally take a break and relax for a little while.

you won’t deny that there are some days where you wished that things were different, and that you could openly express your love for each other without scrutiny and attention being on you, but alas, that is to be expected as someone exposed to the public eye.

the olympics is your first public appearance as married individuals, not that anyone particularly cares about your status, their eyes instead zeroing in on kiyoomi and the chain around his neck carrying a shiny new silver band. it's safe to say that judging by the scowl on his face and the chatter buzzing around the front rows of stands as the team settles into their side of the court, his “mystery wife" is the new talk of the town.

when he comes over to you during timeout, his eyes meet yours bashfully as you hand him a bottle, fingers brushing against yours in an unspoken apology. you just smile and lightly pat his back as he turns to join the team huddle. there’s nothing to be sorry for, silly.

these little moments mean everything to you, even though it looks like nothing in the grand scheme of things. just being there with him and coming together with a shared passion even if it's in different fields of the broader spectrum of sport, fills you with a sense of happiness and content. watching him in his element and being able to support him on the sidelines through it all, you'd never trade that for the world.

and as you’re sitting at the edge of your seat with your bum hanging on for dear life, you lean forward with your hands pressed together, the top of your index fingers resting against the tip of your nose like a pseudo prayer. match point.

it feels like you’re watching the longest rally of your life and like a bad habit, your knee begins bouncing up and down in your nervousness and anticipation. iwaizumi too, is so engrossed in the play at hand that he doesn’t notice, or maybe he just doesn’t care enough in this moment to stop you with his usual slap to your thigh and a chiding comment, “stop it, even my grandma back in sendai can feel the tremours from your goddamn knees.”

with bated breath, you watch kageyama tosses one beautiful arc of a set to kiyoomi as he leaps into the air and makes contact with the ball.

with a powerful spike, he is a force to be reckoned with, sending the ball home as the opponents dive to save it, their arms hands and fingers stretching out in a last ditch attempt to connect and rescue the point, but to no avail. the ball lands with a harsh thud and as he stands tall above their groveling, the whistle blows and the crowds roar.

your arms instinctively raise in a cheer, and in the next moment they’re closed over your mouth, tears pricking your eyes as you stumble over your feet and scramble to get up. as the team rushes towards him with shouts of celebration, his eyes immediately dart in your direction, softening as he sees you dashing over. with knowing smirks and crescent moons for eyes, the boys follow his line of sight and give him firm slaps on the back, parting the hoard for you and giving just enough room for him to uncharacteristically swoop you up in his arms and crash his lips into yours, all caution thrown to the wind.

all the noise halts and time stands still, everything fades away and nothing else in the world matters in the moment, not the people, not the cameras, just the overwhelming rush of joy and pride, and love, oh love, swelling from the depths of your chest and your heart bursting at its seams.

your senses flood with everything kiyoomi, from the way the sweaty strands of his hair at the back of his neck feel on your fingertips, his cheeks dampening from your tears, the nudge of his nose against yours, and the press of his smile on your locked lips. he breathes out and you breathe him in, letting all of his being rest in the room in your heart saved specially for him, seeping into every corner of your soul.

when you inevitably pull apart for air, the current predicament doesn't exactly click in your mind just yet until he grabs your hand and pulls you into his side, shielding you from the onslaught of reporters and press looking to get a fresh scoop on the hottest piece of news. with blown out eyes, you look at him in a daze and disbelief, did that really just happen?

the smug smirk on his face says it all.

the matching silver bands on your finger and hanging around his neck, it was always there. for the longest time it was your little secret, and now a declaration of love and devotion — not even a shiny new gold medal could compare.

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.

[solarmorrigan]

Silly idea I talked about ages ago with @azure7539arts, inspired by a similar event my workplace hosts every year. Would minors be allowed to participate in such an event? Probably not! But then again, it was the 80s, who can say for sure. Anyway, it's my birthday and I'll post nonsense if I want to <3

-

“I need you to buy me.”

Eddie looks up from his notebook, effectively jarred from his campaign-plotting fugue state by Steve’s declaration.

Steve is standing at the other end of the dining table, staring at him expectantly.

“Y’know, this is the part where someone usually follows up their completely bonkers demand with an explanation,” Eddie says slowly.

“At the charity auction,” Steve clarifies. “I need you to bid on me, and I need you to win.”

Ah, yes, that weird Rent-an-Athlete charity auction the school runs every year; anyone on any Hawkins High sports team could volunteer to be “auctioned” off in order to raise money for said sports team, to spend a day at the beck and call of the highest bidder (within reason, supposedly). It’s generally restricted to students, but occasionally, prominent alumni are invited to participate – and Steve certainly fits the bill, especially after the story the government spun about his heroism in the face of “serial killer” Henry Creel last spring.

“And what, deny all those pretty girls a chance to get at you?” Eddie asks drily (he’d never turned up at previous auctions himself, but you could hardly avoid gossip in a school their size; it had usually been some cheerleader bidding with daddy’s money who won a date– that is, a day with Steve Harrington).

“It wasn’t always a girl who won,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his chest. “One time it was Mrs. Dalton – you know, the lady on the school board who lives on my block? I just spent the day doing yard work for her. She gave me lemonade. That was pretty cool.”

“Right,” Eddie drawls. “And I’m sure she definitely didn’t sit outside and stare at your ass while you were working.”

“She did not– she– I mean she was on the porch, but, like– she wouldn’t have– she’s, like, seventy, Eddie,” Steve splutters, and it’s all Eddie can do not to laugh.

“Older gals have needs, too, Steve,” Eddie says, giving in to a smirk. “So she was checking you out from the porch, huh?”

Steve goes red. “Shut up, that isn’t the point. I’m trying to ask for your help.”

“Right, right, your absolutely reasonable request for me to buy you at market. Why, again?” Eddie asks.

“The kids are planning to bid on me,” Steve says gravely.

Eddie blinks at him. “Okay?” he says, when no further explanation is forthcoming. “You basically do most of what they ask, anyway, so…?”

“Okay, believe it or not, I actually say no to at least half of what they ask me to do. I would literally never get anything done if I gave in to all their demands.” Steve jabs a finger at Eddie, who holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Anyway, this is all Henderson’s fault.”

“It usually is,” Eddie agrees, nodding sagely.

“He decided that he was going to bid on me and then use that day to finally make me play your nerd game with you–” Eddie snorts, and Steve shoots him a look, “but Wheeler doesn’t want me to play, so he said he was going to bid against Dustin and make me do anything but sit in on a session with you guys.”

“So let Wheeler win.” Eddie shrugs.

“No! I can’t let fuckin’ Mike win, he’ll probably make me do something even more ridiculous!” Steve exclaims. "He’ll make me play chauffeur for him and El on a date, or something, and he’ll probably include the stupid hat.”

“Wait, I thought El broke up with him,” Eddie breaks in.

“No, they’re on again,” Steve says absently, shaking his head. “Which is why Max has been in a bad mood lately.”

Eddie bites back the reflexive need to ask “How can you tell?”, going instead with, “I thought she and Sinclair were on again.”

“No, they are. That’s why no one’s been actively murdered,” Steve says.

“How do you keep track of all of this?” Eddie asks, squinting at Steve.

“It’s a natural skill. And we’re getting off track,” Steve says quickly. “Normally, I wouldn’t be that worried, because Dustin regularly blows his savings on weird science gadgets or whatever, but then Lucas and Will started taking sides.”

“This is getting very involved,” Eddie says.

“So you see why I’m stressed!” Steve insists, smacking a hand to his forehead (personally, Eddie thinks Steve is stressed for many other reasons, but he figures pointing that out just now won’t be appreciated). “Lucas is on Dustin’s side, and that kid does odd jobs like nobody’s goddamn business; he actually has shit saved up. And usually I’d have faith in him being more, like, sensible than to spend it all on this, but the little shit is really fucking competitive.”

“Wonder who he got that from?” Eddie mutters.

“Okay, we do remember that I’m not actually biologically related to any of these idiots, right?” Steve snaps.

“Well now we’re just getting into nature versus nurture–”

“Eddie.”

“Right, sorry, continue.”

“Well, Will took Mike’s side–”

“Shocking.”

“Right? But anyway, I don’t know if the kid has much saved up, but between him and Wheeler, they might be able to win.” Steve sighs, looking far more world-weary than Eddie feels the situation really warrants.

“You know you don’t actually have to do what they ask you to, right?” Eddie points out.

Steve rolls his eyes. “If an auction winner complains to the school that the person they bid on didn’t fulfill their end of the bargain, they can get their money back. It’s a whole…” he waves his hand vaguely, “thing. Happened once when I was a sophomore; Deacon McNab. Lost a good chunk of change for the football team, and they vandalized the shit out of his car.”

“Ah, right. Forgot we went to school with literal psychopaths,” Eddie hums.

“So, I just need you to bid on me and win, so I’m not stuck wasting a Saturday on whatever the hell the kids are going to try to make me do. Or not do. Or– whatever,” Steve says.

“Okay, not that I don’t understand your predicament here, but I think you’re forgetting something kind of important, Steve,” Eddie drawls.

Steve’s brows draw together in question. “What?”

“I’m fucking poor.”

“Oh.” Steve shakes his head. “I didn’t mean– no, I will give you the money, you don’t have to spend a dime, man, I just need you to get me out of this.”

“Why not have Buckley do it?” Eddie asks.

“That was Plan A, but she actually has a date that night, and it’s kind of a big deal, so I don’t want her to cancel,” Steve says. “But I assumed you wouldn’t be busy.”

“Wow, rude,” Eddie scoffs, and Steve sighs.

“Fine, sorry, I just really hoped you wouldn’t be busy.” Steve gives him the most lethal set of puppy dog eyes Eddie has ever seen, as if there had been any chance from the beginning that he’d be able to say no. “Please?”

Just for show, Eddie lets out a long sigh, falling against his chair and letting his head flop over the backrest like he’s deflating.

“Fine.”

“Thank you,” Steve groans, sounding so genuinely relieved that Eddie almost feels bad about how quickly his thoughts dip into the realms of the inappropriate. “Oh my god, I owe you.”

Eddie glances back up at Steve, tongue darting out to wet his lips almost unconsciously. “You know I’m not as easy to appease as a couple of fifteen-year-olds, right?”

Steve’s eyes drop for just a second—maybe down to Eddie’s lips, maybe not; who can say?—before he looks back up, cocking an eyebrow at Eddie. “I think I can handle it.”

Slowly, Eddie grins. “We’ll see.”

[sttoru]

“PLAYING WITH FIRE.”

༄ sypnosis. you show up to jujutsu high to pay satoru a visit on your day off, though that visit quickly turns into him bending you over in his office.

༄ note. ehh.. satoru brainrot. especially teacher satoru who’s a different person when you two r alone and away from his students.. slurps.

༄ tags. satoru x female reader. dom!satoru, sub!reader. unprotected sex, creampie, doggy style, degradation, objectification, kinda dubcon in one sentence, hair pulling, satoru takes pictures, bit of overstimulation, tiny bit of aftercare.

satoru had been trying very hard to keep his hands off of you in front of his students after you walked into his classroom. you used the famous excuse of ‘dropping off his forgotten lunch’ to bother your boyfriend at work.

you were all dolled up, make up done nicely while wearing a skimpy outfit that was almost scandalous to attend a prestigious school in.

satoru caved in immediately the moment you two were alone in the privacy of his office.

“n’more.. no more— please.” you babble mindlessly, a string of your own saliva trickling down the corner of your mouth and onto your chin.

“ah, fuck, you can do it, baby; just hold on f’me.” satoru reassures you through deep grunts, clamping a hand on your mouth to prevent you from making too much noise.

not that that’d be able to muffle the squelchy sounds that echoed throughout his office every time he plunged his cock into your sopping cunt.

“haah, shit— let me put that pretty mouth of yours to use, c’mon.”

two of his long fingers slide between your lips and without hesitation, you twirl your tongue around and suck at them as if on cue.

“mhh, just like that.” satoru hisses as he feels your saliva coat his skin while his other hand circles your clit.

his eyes wander down to your ass and the way it jiggles each time he slams his hips against the plump flesh.

satoru was also completely entranced by the sight of his cock—now glazed with a mixture of your juices— disappearing and reappearing not a second afterwards with each thrust.

“holy shit, y’re such a slutty thing.” a groan leaves his lips and you can feel him twitch inside of you the minute you tighten up around him. his filthy words were making your legs shake.

“yeah? ya like that, hm?” satoru’s hand which stimulated your clit left its place only to grab a fistful of your hair to yank your head back,

“bet you do, ‘cause this is exactly what you wanted by comin’ here dressed like that.”

you whine and dig your nails into the wooden surface beneath you, vision blurry as you feel the tears form due to satoru pulling at your hair. not only that; satoru knew just how to angle his hips to be able to hit the furthest parts of your sloppy pussy.

“nnh— yes, yes! fuck.” your desperate cries were muffled as you continued to suck on satoru’s fingers with your drool dripping down onto his desk.

satoru’s bangs clung onto his forehead, the sweat running down his skin making it hard for his glasses to properly remain on the bridge of his nose.

“so eager- so fuckin’ eager for a cock to fill you up.” satoru lets the words roll off the tongue in the heat of the moment.

you know that you got him extremely riled up when satoru’s being like this. it’s attractive to say the least; you’ve always loved it whenever he lets go of any self-control and just straight up fucks you brainless—not caring where you two may be.

his desk trembles with each intense thrust. the various objects on it threatening to fall as they all neared the edge due to the vibrations from your bodies.

it’s not like your boyfriend cared about the mess he’d make of his office when he’d rather make a mess out of you and your aching cunt.

“gonna—fuck—cum in your pussy, yeah? gonna have ya walk ‘round campus with my cum.”

you mindlessly nod along, babbling something incoherent that sounded like a ‘yes, please’ to satoru’s ears. and if it wasn’t, well, he’d do it anyway.

the thought of you walking out of his office afterwards with his hot load leaking out of your sweet cunt, you subtly trying to hide the liquid with your skirt since he ripped your panties apart; it drove him to the edge of insanity.

“shit, shit, shit.” curses leave satoru’s lips as he feels the pleasure building up to the point of release, “‘m gonna cum so hard— fuck!”

a deep groan echoes in your ears as you feel spurts of hot, thick cum flood your aching pussy— seeping straight into your womb.

“ngh— ‘toru!” you gasp for air once his fingers left your mouth so that satoru could grab onto your hips.

“stay still, angel. mm— have’ta make sure it stays.” the white-haired man adds in a husky tone and continues to pump into you with a few firm and deep strokes.

his blue eyes peered through his glasses at the sinful view of the white liquid overflowing and slowly dripping onto your thighs.

after making sure to push his cum as far as possible, satoru pulls out with a hiss.

just when you thought it’d be over, you could feel him rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your cunt— smearing his cum, along with your own juices, all over your folds.

“now that’s a sight.” satoru hums slightly, licking his lips before bending his upper body forward. his chest was flush against your back while you tried to catch your breath on his desk.

soft pecks were placed all over the back of your neck, one last one on your forehead.

“you did so well, baby.” he reassures you, tone and expression back to his usual soft one.

you smile back tiredly at him as you mumble a quick ‘thank you’ between deep breaths. your exhausted eyes followed satoru’s hands as they searched for something in his pockets.

a grin spreads on his face before he leans down again to whisper into your ear, one hand caressing your back while the other held his phone.

“be good for me and stay bent over like that, m’kay? need to take a pic of the mess i made.”

[endless-ineffabilities]

So High School (1/2)

Bucky Barnes x f!reader

synopsis : the one wherein the reader and Bucky navigate the initial stages of falling in love, and well, it feels a whole lot like high school <3

themes : friends to lovers, slight jealousy, Bucky and the reader are Avengers, everyone is alive!

word count : 3k ▪︎ masterlist ▪︎ part two

a/n : inspired by Taylor Swift's So High School - that song makes me so fuckin happy I can't even begin to explain it... This fic is all giddy and warm, kind of like when you have a crush, playfulness and jealousy abound 💙

You are almost certain that you left your beloved leather jacket back on the quinjet.

The mission made you exhausted, like they always do, and you remember taking your jacket off and settling in for a nap on the ride back to the Avengers compound.

"FRIDAY, is the quinjet still at base level?" you ask aloud to the compound's omnipresent AI overseer.

She chimes in straight away, "Yes, the quinjet is undergoing routine checks downstairs."

"Well," you say to yourself, "I could use the walk."

FRIDAY speaks again, unprompted, "There is one James Buchanan Barnes heading to your door right now."

Bucky? "Oh, right now?"

"Yes, he'll be knocking in 3... 2... 1..."

And sure enough, he does.

You open the door to his sheepish, easy smile. FRIDAY would definitely be picking up on your vitals, noting your clammy hands and jumping heartbeat.

You desperately hope that she would shut up about it, otherwise you might just literally throw hands with Tony.

"Hi," he greets. Just that - just 'hi' - and he has you blushing like a schoolgirl. Damn it.

"Hey," you reply. Glancing down, you realise that he has just what you're looking for.

The jacket. You mean your jacket. Mind out of the gutter, you kick yourself internally.

"I, uh, think you left this back at the - "

" - the quinjet."

"Right, and I, well - " he stammers, and you don't understand why, when you're clearly the nervous one here.

"You're... here to give it back to me," you help him out, smiling.

"Yeah," he nods, smiling back at you. Leaning against your doorframe, he stays right in place, and you suddenly feel conscious by the way he's just looking at you.

"Uhm, Bucky?" you break the silence after a while, anxiously laughing.

"Yeah, doll?"

"My jacket?" you hold out your hand expectantly.

"Oh, here," he quickly hands it over to you, and you thank him. But he stays, rubbing the back of his neck, brows furrowed in thought. "Listen, I was wondering if - "

"There you two are!" Sam's booming voice startles you, and you spot him walking down the hall. "Debriefing time, kids, come on."

"Oh, right," you groan, tossing your jacket somewhere behind you. Shutting your door, you turn to Bucky, "Sorry, Buck, can it wait?"

"Can what wait?" Sam butts in, ears like a bat. He nudges Bucky with his shoulder, and you swear you see Bucky glare at him, while blushing all the while.

"Nothing," he mumbles and the three of you make your way towards the elevators. When Sam becomes distracted by some new panelling Tony installed recently, you catch Bucky's eye, and shrug as if to say - you can tell me later.

He simply nods. When the doors open, you feel his hand on the small of your back, guiding you in. Just for the briefest of moments, but it lingers in your mind.

So much so, that Tony tosses a pencil at you during debriefing when you're spaced out and didn't answer his question.

"Daydreaming, princess?" Tony smirks.

"Leave her alone, Tony," Steve comes to your rescue, ever the considerate leader. "She's tired, just like the rest of us."

"Yeah, sure," Tony shrugs. "Or maybe Bionic Man over there is distracting her with all the staring he does."

"Shut up, Tony," Natasha protests, catching your surprised look.

"I'm not staring," you hear Bucky say.

"Oh, man, you stare all the time. At everything," Sam counters. "Especially at her."

"No. I don't."

"Yes, you do. Doesn't he, Steve?" Sam laughs, twisting around to share the joke with Steve, who just fondly shakes his head, patting Bucky on the shoulder.

Your mouth feels dry, face flushed from the suggestive bickering partially at your expense, and when you ask, "Alright, alright, what was your question, Tony?"

Tony cheekily smirks, and says, "Quick, Barnes, look away."

"Oh, god," you tilt your head back and stare at the ceiling.

It's a collective, "Tony!" that followed, likely from Steve and Nat. Possibly Bruce, too.

Tony asks you again, something about the safety measures in place for the civilians left behind.

When you answer his question, you can't help but feel a certain pair of blue eyes looking at you.

But that means nothing, right? Bucky's just listening to whatever you have to say. The mission had been important, after all.

Five minutes later, in the middle of Bruce's explanation, you feel it again.

So you look to the side, only slightly, catching Bucky quickly turning to draw his attention back at Bruce.

Oh.

"What are you smirking at me for?" you approach Natasha, while tightening your hand wraps. Some of the Avengers have convened for routine combat practice. You've been looking forward to it, mostly being cooped up in the two weeks after the recent mission.

Natasha sports her signature knowing look when she says, "You're paired with Barnes today, milochka moya."

"Bucky? And?" you clear your throat, and you clock Bucky and Sam entering the gym in your periphery. Is it just you or did your voice just crack? No, it couldn't have.

There's no reason to be nervous, no reason at all.

Sure, he'll get all sweaty and he'll have to get his hands on you and he'll get close... very close... pressed against...

"I see I've lost you already," Natasha is quick to note. "And we haven't even started yet."

Wanda joins you, greeting with, "Did you know you'll be paired with Barnes today?"

Oh my god. You exclaim, "Why is everyone making a big deal out of it?"

"Because," is all Wanda responds with.

"Thanks, Wanda," you nod sarcastically. "Thank you both. Can we just get this over with?"

"Guys?" you call out loudly, addressing everyone in the room.

"Yes, everyone. It is best if we start," Vision says, him being the supervisor for training today. Leave it to an all-knowing entity to be well-versed in every fighting art in existence.

He reads off the combat pairings for the day, and their assigned fighting style.

Clint and Nat, krav maga.

Wanda and Sam, aikido. Though to be fair, she doesn't really need to use her fists should it come to that. Wanda's powers were beyond your comprehension. This is mostly just a fun little exercise for her.

And finally, Vision says your name followed by Bucky's, with the fighting style of jiu-jitsu.

That damned close-contact sport. You're well-trained in it, thanks to your job, but it involves a lot of straddling and the opponent heavily breathing down on your face. It wasn't exactly your first choice out there in the field.

But here? Well, it seems like you don't really have a choice.

Well, you do. And would you really choose otherwise?

Close contact with Bucky?

"Hey, doll," he walks right over, all prepped and ready. Clad in a black compression shirt and grey sweatpants. One look at him and you know you're not likely to survive this training session.

"You ready to get your ass kicked?" you cheekily say, as you to walk over to your designated area of the room with him right on your tail.

He smiles, mumbling something which sounded like, " - let you do anything you want to me."

"I'm sorry?" you blurt out, occupying yourself with the control panel for the instructional hologram.

"Nothing," he bites his lip. Oh, he just knows you heard him.

"Okay, so - " The hologram starts right up, showing faceless figures go through a standard combat routine. Ankle sweep. Closed guard. Arm bar. Back and forth until someone taps out. Then all over again.

"Fun," you remark, moving to circle him on the mat. "Give it your best shot, Barnes."

He makes the first move, trying to sweep your leg with his own and failing. You're too quick for that. As long as you don't get sidetracked by that shit-eating smirk on his face, you'll be just fine.

He rushes at you again, but you jump out of the way. You manage you hook your leg around his torso, and use your whole weight to force him down on the mat.

You end up with one knee pressed to his chest, your forearm applying the slighest pressure on his throat. It's an easy position to counter, and he should be propelling you off of him already. Maneuvering your arm out of the way. Something. Anything.

But the man just stares.

You'll be damned, but Sam was right.

"Bucky, come on," you snap.

Instead of a countermove, he hits you with something more disarming. "You look good up there," he says.

"What?"

"I like the view," he only adds, speeding up the rush of warmth to your face.

Your body goes slack, and your pressure on his neck eases. You struggle to think of something nonchalant, something blasé to say in turn, when he takes advantage of the moment and flips the two of you over.

He ends up on top of you, legs caging you in, hands gripping your wrists by the sides of the face.

"Shit," you curse when you realise what just happened. "Well played."

"Thanks," he responds. "I meant it though, you do look pretty. Like always."

"Another trick, Buck?" You attempt to play it cool. Maybe you can play off the obvious flush on your face as physical exertion. Not whatever this is. Not because of him.

He only smiles, getting back on his feet and extending a hand out to you.

"Not a trick," he says, as you both get ready for the next round.

"I'd say I'm flattered, if you weren't trying to beat me in hand-to-hand combat."

"Doll, I think it's safe to say that you won already," he says, his gaze softening.

What is he on about? "Uhh, no, that was barely anything. We're supposed to keep going."

His brows furrow, though his smile stays in place, albeit a bit strained. "That's not what I meant," he exhales, reaching forward to attempt a restricting hold.

His expression turns serious then, steely gaze boring into you, analyzing your every move. He lunges at you, and you block him. But he tries again and again, each move more precise and forceful.

He steps back to take a breath, and you use the opportunity to sweep his ankle, but he sees it coming. In a flash, he pulls your arm and twists you around so that your back is pressed to his chest. You wrangle against him, making him fall on his back, but he keeps his hold on you.

His metal arm encases your torso with your arms pinned to your sides, and his legs wrap around yours. Air rushes out of you in shaky pants, and you move your head to the side, the only part of you still mobile.

And he's right there, the tip of his nose brushing against your cheek. The tension is almost too much to bear, because you feel all of him - the solid planes of his torso, the coarseness of his facial hair growing out - and for the love of all things sacred, you hope you don't accidentally wriggle your ass against his crotch.

Bucky wishes so too. He would never be able to live that down, especially if one of the others would come around and notice.

"Do you yield?" His voice is rough, commanding against your ear. Even though it's nothing more than an assertive whisper, a shiver runs through your body.

"Y-yes," you muster, "I yield."

He keeps his hold on you a moment longer, and before you can ask him if something's wrong, and why he's not letting you go yet, he releases you.

And it doesn't bring you relief, surprisingly. Almost as if you just want to go right back into his embrace.

As you two get back on your feet, Vision's sudden appearance almost makes you keel over, startling the living daylights out of you.

"That was good," Vision comments.

"What the - Vis!" you place a hand on your chest to calm down. "Maybe announce yourself when you show up please!"

"But I've been standing here for approximately 37 seconds," he expertly says.

"Okay, well - "

"You both did not notice me," he goes on, matter-of factly. "Perhaps it might have something to do with your sheer focus on one another - "

"Okay, Vision, thank you," you attempt to intervene, to no avail.

" - which is good. In combat, you do need to stay hypervigilant. Although, might I comment, that the sudden increase in arousal hormones is not really conducive to battle - "

"Vision!" you and Bucky exclaim in unison.

Thankfully, Wanda notices and comes to your rescue, "O-kay, Vis, why don't you come and check mine and Sam's progress, hmm?"

"Of course," Vision complies immediately and they walk away hand in hand. Must have something to do with his undying penchant for Wanda.

Wanda throws you an apologetic shrug, before her eyes get drawn downward to something else near you, and she has to bite her lip to hold back a giggle.

You feel Bucky's hand take hold of your waist, ever so gentle, and everything else is quickly forgotten.

"You okay?" he asks, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

He stands close, and you catch a hint of his scent, sandalwood and mint, layered beneath a musk that can only be undeniably Bucky.

You hum in affirmation. Shaking you head, you respond with, "Vision was just being... Vision. Can never keep his observations to himself." His thumb moves, caressing lightly at your waist, the movement seemingly instinctive for him.

"Yeah, well," he smiles to himself, before reaching up and tucking back a stray lock of hair from your face, "the thing about that droid is... he doesn't lie."

He steps back, rolling his shoulders, getting ready for another bout of combat. As if he didn't have you subdued already.

"He wasn't lying about me, at least," he smirks, before getting into a stance and putting his arms up.

Feeling brave, because there's no way you're going to come out of this interaction as the only one flustered, you respond with, "He wasn't lying about me, neither."

Bucky doesn't expect that, used to being the suave and cockier one out of this dynamic. His fighting stance loosens, and he barely croaks, "What?"

Gotcha.

It doesn't take long for you to sweep him off his feet.

When you're left straddling him once more, you hit him back with, "I like the view."

He bites his lip, and then laughs, flushed and impressed.

Still on the ground, staring up at you, he decisively ends the match, the final blow too much for you to bear. Because he settles for saying, "Still doesn't beat my view, beautiful."

After more than an hour of fidgeting around your room, clothes strewn everywhere and music blasted to calm you down, you were finally ready.

Bucky had asked you what you were doing for the weekend, and you said you didn't have anything in mind, but asked him if he wanted to watch a movie in the common lounge with you.

He eagerly agreed, before you two were interrupted by Sam mentioning something about new upgrades to Red Wing.

So you didn't get to clarify what the nature of the plan was. Likely it was just another hangout. It wouldn't be the first time you and Bucky watched a movie together, went on excursions on your motorbikes, or headed out to grab some sushi.

Save for Natasha and Wanda, he's the one you spend the most time with.

And none of those times ever was a date.

But you feel nervous as you walk down the hallway. You've been nervous all the while you spent getting ready, unable to choose the right top, and eventually settling for a V-neck cobalt blue shirt that he once said he liked on you.

You're nervous because tonight could be it. You've taken it upon yourself to finally ask him.

Ask him what exactly? Whether he likes you as someone more than a friend? Whether there is a reason to all that staring that he does?

Whether he wants to kiss you as badly as you want to kiss him?

So, something along those lines.

He's standing right around the entrance to the common lounge, and you immediately think at how sweet it is that he's waiting for you.

Until he broke the news.

"Doll, I - " Bucky says, right after you come into view. "Oh, wow, you look great."

Smiling widely, you look down like it was nothing, like you didn't just spend the last hour worrying. "Thanks, Buck."

"Uhh, I have something to tell you, actually. You remember Yori? The man from - "

"Of course I remember him," you nod, now confused at what he's getting onto.

"Yeah," he hesitates, not sure he wants to speak further. All he wants is to spend the night curled up in the lounge with you, but all that is gone when he continues, "he kind of set me up on a date."

"A date?" your stomach sinks.

"With Leah. You know Leah? The girl who works at the restaurant that we go to sometimes with Yori?"

"Yeah," you shrug and look away, hoping your expression doesn't give away too much, "I know who she is. So you have a date, huh?"

"Tonight," he confirms. "I didn't... didn't even ask her, really. But last night at dinner, Yori asked and she heard and said yes - "

"She's really lovely. This is good, Buck."

"Yes, but we made plans, and I didn't want to - "

"No, don't worry about it." you put your palms up, as if to show him that you take the situation lightly. It was no problem, after all. He has to go on this date. You can watch movies together any time.

"Doll," he sighs. "I was actually thinking that, since we had plans already, you could come with me? I'm sure she would understand - "

"Bucky," you laugh dryly, "I am not crashing your date."

"But - "

"No buts," you have to affirm. "You have a date, so it has to be just you and her."

He purses his lips, nodding. He tries to gauge your expression, whether you're pissed at him or anything, but he's only met with a reassuring smile.

"What time is your date?" you ask.

"In about 40 minutes," he replies, giving you a good once-over again, taking you in fully. You really looked good, and he wants nothing more than to just stare at you the whole damn night. If only he wasn't so polite. If only he had the guts to just turn Leah down.

His face falls when you say, "I guess you better go," with a hint of enthusiasm, not knowing that it's your attempt at putting on a brave face.

"What will you do?" he asks.

"I don't know," you shrug. "I'm sure I'll find something. The others are mostly around so - "

"Hey!" Steve rounds up the corner, still clad in his riding jacket, having returned from outdoors.

"Going somewhere, you two?" Steve asks, his signature congenial smile in place.

"Not me," you respond, smiling back. "But Bucky here has a date actually."

"A date?" Steve says, taken aback. Did Bucky not tell him about this? He looks between the two of you, trying to put things into place, "Do you mean - ?" He trails off, gesturing at you.

"No!" A nervous laugh bubbles out of you. Of course, not with you. You wish.

"Really?" Steve makes a face, like the thought of Bucky going on a date with someone else was ridiculous, but he quickly collects himself. It's none of his business, for now. But he'll surely grill his bestfriend on it later.

"Don't you have to leave, Buck?" you turn to him. "You don't want to keep Leah waiting."

"Yeah, I suppose I should. I'll, uh, talk to you later, okay?" He says, taking a few measured steps back. Not wanting to turn away, and have you out of his sight.

"Sure," you smile, but it's weak and you know it is. Watching him walk away, you can no longer hide the disappointment you feel.

Bucky is still within earshot when you turn to Steve and innocently ask, "Are you busy, Steve? Care to watch a movie in the lounge?" Steve of course agrees, and lets his arm drape around you.

Bucky knows that you and Steve are just friends. Steve has gotten a hint of how he feels about you, and far be it from him to take his friend's girl.

But it doesn't quell that sinking feeling, when he looks back. He sees you smiling up at Steve, as the two of you disappear into the lounge.

It's going to be a long night.

[elssero]

kiri offering to be the first person to give you head-

e.kirishima

♰ suggestive, not quite smut, pro hero!kiri x pro hero f!reader, slight angst.

you don’t remember exactly how you got into this situation, one minute you were finishing up your friday patrol and the next you were being dragged to a local bar, mina ashido pulling you by the wrist towards the table which sat your group of friends from high school.

you especially don’t remember how you got onto the topic at hand but your embarrassed. so embarrassed even that your sinking impossibly further into the cushioned seat of the round table your gathered around.

the tipsy chatter around the table has suddenly stopped, heads are turned towards you and you feel the multiple pairs of eyes scanning you- judging you.

it’s denki who speaks first, breaking the very awkward silence that makes you just want to run home and forget this ever happened.

“what the fuck do you mean you’ve never gotten head?”

you can’t help the increasing beating of your heart or the way you immediately look down to your lap, absolutely dripping in shame. he continues and god do you wish he hadn’t.

“weren’t you with todoroki for like a year? and he never gave you head? are you serious?”

the humiliation you feel right now is worse than ever before, it’s worse than that one time you showered in the male bathrooms by accident, infact it’s far worse than that. you can’t even bring yourself to lift up your head from its position looking directly down.

“i- i haven’t no-” you cut yourself off before continuing “it was just- it was never something he expressed interest in and neither have any of my hook ups since- it’s not a big deal- really.”

you finally lift your head up when you finish your sentence to find that everyone’s looking at you. each pair of eyes scanning you with what seems to be a look of pity. you need to get out of here.

“that’s so not cool-“ sero starts before he’s interrupted by bakugo “-not cool is an understatement it’s fuckin’ ridiculous- god i knew he was a loser but i didn’t think it was that bad.”

“it’s fine- honest- it never really bothered me” your lying. and everyone knows your lying by the way your voice drops and the way you can’t meet anyone’s eyes, your worried if you do that you’ll melt into a puddle of shame right there and then.

“should fuckin’ bother you- he’s a piece of shit- not giving his girlfriend of over a year some fuckin’ head what a dick.” he’s got you. of course it bothered you that your boyfriend- that woman constantly fawned over hadn’t even as much as tried to make you cum not once your entire relationship. in the beginning you excused it as him being inexperienced, you were his first everything- or at least you thought you were- nothing seems as clear cut as it once did since your break up 4 months ago. it’s not like he’s been your only partner either, you’ve been with people before and after todoroki it’s just- no one seems to actually care about your pleasure.

your sudden break up with todoroki followed swiftly after you’d begun working as pros- it was him who ended it- claiming he could’ve give you the time you deserved due to his entirely full schedule, whether it was patrol, or an interview, or a mission- you were never entirely sure what he was doing but you knew whatever it was, it didn’t involve you. it’s not like you can blame him, you yourself know how hard it is to start off as a pro hero.

ultimately you thank him, despite the fact you think it’s very unlikely that the two of you will ever even be on speaking terms again- at least not for the next couple of years- his sidekick made sure of that when she accidentally made a comment about them being together a mere 2 days after the two of you had broken up.

but still- you thank him, you hadn’t realised how isolated the two of you had became, attempting to salvage the hanging threads of your relationship by spending every minute of your free time together, you feel more relaxed- like you can focus on things you haven’t been able to give the time to in what feels like forever.

one of which being the group your with now, your own friend group from ua- not todorokis who you had been forced to go out with for the past couple of months- not that you didn’t enjoy their company! they just weren’t your friends.

despite the love and care you feel for the people around you- you need a bit of time to breathe following your confession to the group- you think that denkis shout of determination deciding they need to get you some head is the perfect time for you to escape.

“well- have fun with planning? m’ gonna get a drink at the bar- i’ll be right back” your words are slurring slightly, the embarrassment you recently felt only fuelling your current tipsy state.

“i’ll come with you-” it’s cheery, and you can’t help but smile up at the red head when we takes your arm and leads you to the bar, you watch as he takes a set on one of the bar stools- waiting to be served by the bartender as he beckons you to sit with him.

there’s a moment of silence between you, not completely uncomfortable- you can tell he has something to say but you wait for him to be ready to say it. in the meantime you observe him, he seems a little nervous but you can’t quite figure out why-

“m’ sorry i didn’t say anything back there- i was just- shocked” he’s not looking at you as he says it, it’s clear he feels bad.

“kiri please-” you giggle and you watch as he seems to smile slightly at the sound. “i said it wasn’t a big deal and i meant it!” you look up and and smile before you continue “and its definitely not that shocking either im sure there’s alot of people my age who have never- y’know…”

he catches your eyes now- he’s looking at you with an expression you can’t quite read- “but it is shocking.” he takes a deep breath in before continuing- “it’s absolutely crazy to me than he had you in front of him that whole time never once-” another deep breath- you swear you see him shudder a little before he continues “…tasted you.”

what?

what the fuck???

your eyes are blown wide as you stare at him- that same unreadable expression on his face as he looks into your eyes- he doesn’t dare look away- not now. his eyes are lidded, probably due to his alcohol intake and you sigh slightly when you realise that’s why he’s being like this. he doesn’t really mean what he’s saying and you feel a twinge of guilt at the fact it made your insides feel all warm.

it’s almost as though he can read your mind- sensing your self-dejecting thoughts he decides to continue- although quieter now, he leans in close to you and your breath catches in your throat- “i can’t believe he had the chance to have you and didn’t take it-” he’s moving closer as he speaks- your still frozen in place- “because- i’d do anything for it.”

you stop breathing- “you- you don’t mean that kiri it’s fine you don’t have to try and make me feel better-” you rush it out, your whole body feels hot. he’d do anything for it? you want to believe him- you really do. but you can’t, no one’s ever thought about you like that- your sure he’s just trying to cheer you up.

“don’t do that” his tone is harsh now, eyes still unwavering from yours as he stares you down, you see the look now, before unreadable now you can tell- it’s lust. he’s not in his right mind you think- he’s drunk- even if only having a singular drink so far, not even nearly enough to cloud his judgement to this extent but it’s the easiest excuse you can find right now for his behaviour.

“i’m not saying this to make you feel better- i mean it. every word.” he moves his hand to touch the soft skin of your exposed thigh and you feel your body betray you as your thighs immediately squeeze together in an attempt to feel something- anything.

his words are too much you decide- too overwhelming- rushing a feeling through you that you’ve never quite felt before- you want it. you really want it.

your both broken out of your trance when the bartender hand him over your drinks- ones you weren’t even aware that kiri had ordered as he takes them both in his hands-

“cmon, im sure our friends are waiting on us” he stands up with a smile- urging you to follow him as he turns around and leads you back to the table your long forgetten friends sit.

you don’t follow him- you can’t- your overcome by an emotion you can’t quite recognise as you stand up from your seat at the bar and make a direct run for the exit- putting on your jacket with a hurry as you push open the door with a force that could’ve taken it off the wall. you don’t look back- not for a second.

maybe part 2 incoming idk i’m trying to decide which root to take this :3 lmk!

♰ part 2

[babygorewhore]

Can’t stop thinking about…being JJ’s Maybanks older sister being fucked by Older! Rafe. Word count like 600. Oral! Fem recieving! Pussy slapping! Degrading and praise! Unprotected sex! Breeding kink! Dividers by @xxbimbobunnyxx

Being JJ’s older sister also came with a reputation. You were a cheerleader in high school. Known for your slightly intimidating demeanor and sultry personality. You often stood up for your younger brother, especially from your shit father. Even taking a few hits. But now, being in college, you didn’t have time to worry about JJ, who was traveling the world with his friends.

You were now focused on your drink, a drink Rafe Cameron had poured for you. He was almost ten years older than you, a successful businessman and sexy bachelor. You craved him the moment you saw him shopping last week, wearing your skin tight clothes that accentuated your curves and tits. Rafe didn’t resist your temptation, leaned into your seductive words and eyes. That brought you to tonight. Lounging in his bedroom with your matching bra and panties. Your mouth savored the last drop of wine as Rafe watched you. His blue stare burning through you.

“Lay down,” He says, his raspy voice demanding and you quickly listen. Rafe kneels over you, big hands trailing your bare torso and grips your hips.

“Fuck, Angel. Keep giving me those eyes and I’m gonna explode. But I’m gonna taste that perfect cunt of yours.” He promises and peels off your underwear.

You shiver, your nipples hardening as he kisses down your chest, stomach and finally hovers above your cunt as it leaks onto the sheets. Rafe’s tongue focuses on your clit when he presses his face against you, fingers pushing through your entrance as he moans. “Fuck, you taste so sweet, princess. Mmm, needed my girl.”

You whine and pant as he sucks the bud into his mouth, making you writhe on his face as he groans. “Could just cum from this. Been wanting to do this for hours. Need me to take care of you? Make you forget all those bad memories?”

You nod and grunt as he leans back and slaps your cunt. Shocking you at first before he slaps it again, his soaked fingers swirling your clit as you’re pushed over the edge.

“Aww, is that all you need? My girl just needing her pussy slapped? That’s so fuckin sexy, baby girl. You needed a real man to fuck you. Someone who knows how to take care of a pretty girl.” Rafe smirks and then pulls down his pants. Boxers fall to the side of the bed as he pumps his thick dick a few times, leaking tip twitching before he shoves it in. “Ah, fuck. You needed this didn’t you? Needed me to stuff you full?”

“Mhm,” you cry out and grip his shoulders as he pounds into you. “Fuck, baby. I want you to cum in me, make me yours. Please, I’m begging.”

“Fuckin dirty slut, huh? Need me to breed your desperate pussy? Don’t worry, nothing is gonna go to waste.” Rafe promises and thrusts deeper, reaching the most sensitive parts.

Your head throws back as your climax sends you over the edge and you exhale sharply when he flips you on your hands and knees. Rafe slaps your ass and wraps his arm around your neck.

“Such a filthy little whore for me, aren’t you? No one else is gonna fuck you like me. Make you cum like me. You are mine, now fucking say it.” He growls in your ear and you obediently repeat his words. “Good girl, making me so proud.”

All your life you went without an older man and now, you were being fucked by the Outer banks most desired one.

@marchsfreakshow @xxbimbobunnyxx @drewstarkeyslut @redhead1180 @oceandriveab @starkeysprincess @rafecameroninterlude @gri959 @rafescurtainbangz @rafesthroatbaby

[wrightingdungeon]

SDV Bachelor domestic headcanons

MDNI

Just some headcanons, not anything nsfw but they are adults, and I hit the zaaaaa so these will be dumb, like dumb dumb

Alex:

He has full-on elbowed you when he woke up a few times. Forgive him he's not used to sleeping with someone and he likes to stretch when he wakes up. 

If you have a dog he’s definitely buying one of those running leashes, the one that goes around the hips. Who will tire who out first?

Usually the dog gives out first, and he carries them back home cooing at them like they are a baby… they are

Modifies your home with Robin's help so George and Evelyn can visit

Evelyn, how did you feed this boi? He’s burning through calories 

Especially after helping pick up the farm work…. Sweaty Alex… Cowboy lookin fine ass… Horny jail….

Elliott:

Journals EVERYWHERE, all of them have different ideas, title workings, and little ideas that just popped into his head.

Sits on the front porch head in hand watching you pick fruit, mumbling something like

From tiny seeds to branches high. With gentle hands, they pluck the prize.

Loves to shower with you, he just holds you helps wash your hair, and scrubs your back. Tell you how pretty/handsome you are.

Bought you both matching bathrobes

Tell me he doesn't sleep with a bonnet, look at that silky hair. 

Matching silk pillowcase as well

I imagine this man is a mover in his sleep, and wakes up lookin like the Peter Griffin dead pose meme

Harvey:

The first night yall are married he cant sleep, he's just watching you. Playing with your hair giggling like he was high, he was high of how happy he was.

Has just as many self-care products if not more then Elliott, his mustache looks sculpted, you don't get that look without gel and a little mustache comb

He has a little pocket mustache comb you bought him as a joke but he loves it

Wears an apron when he cooks. Wait where did his go? Why is there a maid one in its place.... Horny Jail....

Charges you for passing out or almost dying to fund his therapy visits, you caused this farmer, look at the gray hairs.

Silver fox Harvey that's all I'm saying

Sebastian:

Good luck getting out of bed, hes like a fuckin backpack

Wakes up eyes not even open just pawing around for whatever hes trying to find.

Eyes are all bloodshot cus he was up all night working, sitting on the porch with his coffee, smoking, petting your pet

Doesn't fully wake up till about high noon

Helps out on the farm, but still does his own thing.

Stays out late with Sam and Abigail practicing for their upcoming gig, you both usually see each other returning home around one am

Momma Boi still goes to Robins for dinner every now and again

Sam:

Puppy at your heels, you go one way hes there. Forgot something? Turn around and trip over his feet

Loves living on the farm with you because now he can crank the tunes all the way up, and you can hear his speakers while you're in the field

Falls asleep anywhere, the porch, the couch, lying down in the grass with the dog/cat

If you cooked it hes eating it, he does the same for his mom

When Kent is back he babysits Vincent some nights

Speaking of, when he Vincent and Jas all get together good luck on the unsuspecting person about to get pranked.

Shane

Its law you adopt Jas, i said it, it cant be broken

Taking Jas to school, returning and helping you with the farm

He and Jas chant “Pizza,Pizza,Pizza” over and over when you ask what is for dinner

Warm, squishy, cuddly, bear hugs in the morning. Hes another backpack boi

When he's awake though, unless you are at home, light PDA

Works with Haley to learn his video camera more, its another hobby to keep him busy

First time seeing you wearing one of his shirts, the shirt is no longer on you… Horny Jail…

[prettiedup]

hello!!! i hope ur having a lovely day! <3

i would like to request a nanami fic. maybe using the one bed trope??

thank you! XOXO

nanami has always preferred to do things alone. living, cooking, sleeping, organizing, everything needs to be done precisely and in his preferred way. working was also something he enjoyed doing on his lonesome. the way nanami moved was meticulous and it left no room for error. he enjoyed taking his time to learn his footwork and his abilities. as dreadful as being a sorcerer is, he has to find enjoyment in the littlest things.

“nami! i can’t open this!” you’re pouting and groaning in irritation while you struggle to open your can of cola. he glances to his side, you’re trying to use the tips of your fingers instead of your nails due to them being so long and squared.

“i told you to stop getting them so long.” he’s grumbling while taking one hand off of the steering wheel to open the can for you. once you hear the satisfying pop, a bright smile plays onto your pretty lips. 

“thank you, nami!” you smile excitedly while taking the can back.

he didn’t reply, only giving you a hum to let you know he heard you. you’re a nice girl, you remind him of something sweet. your personality is so bubbly and energizing, something nanami is completely polar of. even after months of working with you as both his partner and your mentor, he could never get used to you. you’re like a sweet slap in the face, he had stigmatized that the earth is cruel and evil years ago. and then here you go, prancing around all pink and glittery. 

when he first saw you, he thought you were a teenager, to give you some lead way; fresh out of high school. his eyebrows almost touched his hairline when he learned that you were actually well into your 20’s. you’re just a few years younger than him. he remembers complaining to yaga, to the higher ups, he was even so devastated that he found it in him to complain to gojo. 

“i’ve never needed a partner. i sure as hell don’t need one now.” he told gojo as he downed his fourth shot of whiskey. “and一and she’s just so fuckin’ opposite.” he complained. his pale cheeks were flushed red and there were small beads of sweat formed around his hairline.  

gojo has his infamous smirk on his lips as he listens to his ‘friend’ rant. “maybe that’s what you need, kento.” gojo tells him, honestly. “a reminder that you’re not even goddamn 30 yet. live a little.” 

if they wanted him to live a little they should’ve given him a vacation to the beach or something of that sort. that’s how nanami sees it, anyway. 

while you are just the sweetest thing, you sometimes are a lot to deal with. your attention span is too short, you become emotional when things don’t go your way, and you shut down too easily. nanami finds himself having to pick up the pieces alot when it comes to you. especially with you two being partners and the missions can sometimes be months long. something so delicate, hosts something so fiery inside. he’s seen you during battle. when a curse is taking too long to exterminate, when a mission drags on longer than told, when you accidentally break a nail from punching too hard. all those things tie together and create an absolute beast. he had almost felt foolish for doubting you the first time the two of you had gone on your first official mission together.

“nami.” your soft voice rings through his ears. he had a bad habit of zoning out, especially while driving. it’s become habitual to call out his name every now and then to make sure he’s actually focused. 

“i’m here.” those two words carry two meanings as he pulls into the hotel parking lot.

the two of you step out of the car. you stand beside nanami, watching as he pulls out his solid black duffel bag along with your hello kitty duffle bag. you continue mindlessly sipping on your coke even while he has to use his hip to close the door because his hands are full.

“you’re too good to carry your own bag?” he asks with furrowed eyebrows. 

“yup.” you make sure to pop the p. he can only glare at you. with a bright, unaffected smile, you blissfully ignore his intense, piercing glare and walk towards the entrance of the hotel. you stride confidently, with nanami towing closely behind you.

you walk up to the front desk and begin talking to the receptionist. she appears noticeably young, perhaps younger than both of you. her face is dotted with a variety of moles, along with a few faint acne scars. her upturned hazel-green eyes are striking, despite the dark circles beneath them. the contrast between her youthful features and the weariness in her gaze has you intrigued. you were a complete sucker for pretty girls. 

“we do have one more room available, but there’s only one bed.” she tells you two. her eyes sweep between the two of you hesitantly as she breaks the news.

both you and nanami freeze at her. usually, you would both get your own rooms and meet back up in the morning. instantly, there’s a pout on your face. the cheerfulness and confidence you once walked into the lobby with is quickly gone.

“how far away is the next closest hotel?” you ask.

“about forty minutes.” she replies.

you look behind you, at nanami; who seems to be calculating something. “what are we gonna do, nami?” you’re frowning and your tone holds a silver of frustration.

“we’re going to take the room. i get the bed and you get the couch.” is all he says. he steps up to give her the money.

minutes later the both of you are walking to your designated hotel room. nanami holds a look of nonchalance while you’re all pouty and frowning. 

he ignores it, he’s gotten so used to it. he knows your little attitude won’t last forever. something else will soon take your attention and you’ll soon forget about how upset you were seconds ago. once the two of you make it to the door, he slots the keycard inside of the lock and watches the red light flash green. he allows you to walk in first and trails closely behind you.

the room is spacious and inviting, a large king bed lies in the middle of the room, draped in crisp, high thread count linens and a plush, oversized duvet. soft lighting creates a warm ambiance, while large windows offer a stunning view of the cityscape surroundings. in the far corner,  a plush, deep set couch padded in soft, rich fabric, inviting everyone to sink into its comfort. the couch is surrounded by a pair of stylish armchairs.

“this is the best room so far!” you’re excitedly bouncing around and touching everything. you can barely stay in one spot before you’re moving onto the next. you open a door that leads to the bathroom. you let out an excited squeal when you see how big the bathroom is. “they have those drop-in bathtub things!”

you skip to nanami and grab you duffel bag out of his hands. “i’m gonna go shower!” you tell nanami before running back inside the bathroom.

𓊆ྀི ❤︎ 𓊇ྀི

“nami! jus’ lay down! i’ll sleep at the headboard and you sleep at the foot of the bed.” you try to negotiate with the man. this has been going on for a few minutes and you were beginning to grow irritated.

“the couch is fine. it’s big enough and it looks quite comfortable.” he declines.

“i’m gonna cry.” you threaten him.

“are you really going to cry because i prefer the couch?” nanami asks with both amusement and frustration. he was growing tired and wanted nothing more than to lay down at the moment.

“this is a large bed! i won’t be able to forgive myself if you sleep on the couch.” you explain to him.

nanami just sighs and stares at you. you stand there with your arms crossed, not giving up on wanting him to sleep on the bed also.he’s sure that if just goes and lay down on the couch you’d follow him and complain until he caves in to get you to be quiet. 

“alright.. alright.” he mumbles as he goes to the foot of the bed, far away from where you’d be laying. 

the both of you climb into bed with your backs toward each other. you’re facing the now covered windows while he faces the door. 

“g’night, nami.” you tell him sleepily.

“goodnight.” he replies.

𓊆ྀི ❤︎ 𓊇ྀི

nanami should’ve known. his eyes sleepily flutter open, he could feel your body greedily rubbing against his. your leg is thrown over his so that your clothed cunt could rub against his hardening dick. you’re letting out gaspy moans every time your clit gets captured against the tip of his cock. your face rests in the crook of his neck, dribbles of spit escape past your lips and land on his neck only for you to lap it back up. 

“sweetheart..” nanami trails off tiredly. he’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel good but you two had to get up extremely early and when you don’t have enough hours of sleep, you turn into a little demon.

“i-i know.” you whine. “‘s gonna be the last time, n-nami. i jus’ need you.” you sniffle. 

everytime is you two have sex you try to reassure nanami that it would be the last time. he knows you’re lying and he can’t tell if you say and genuinely mean it or if you say it to just quiet him down. he should’ve known when you begged him to sleep in the bed with you that you were up to something. 

“i need you!” you repeat stubbornly. 

he huffs to himself as his fingers slide down under your flimsy shorts. you thumb makes contact with your clit and you’re instantly bucking yourself against his hand instead. you’re so wet, you already have his fingers covered with your arousal. 

“don’t wan’ your fingers, nami. wan’ your cock!” you don’t wait for him to reply to your statement. your hands greedily dig into his sweatpants and fish for his cock. when your hands come in contact with his length, he shudders and lets out a low curse.

“greedy girl.” he tsks. he helps you shuffle his sweatpants down just enough for his cock to be freed. “no prep?” he asks in worry. you need it so bad that you’re shaking your head no. you continue to lap at his skin, leaving marks onto him. with shaky hands, nanami tugs your shorts off of your legs and slides your panties to the side. “look at me.”

you raise your head and search for his hardened eyes. the second you two make eye contact, his lips latch onto yours. he hungrily keeps his lips pressed against yours as he lines his thick cock up to your leaking hole. he slowly pushes himself into you, the both of you gasp and moan into each others mouths as you become one.

he doesn’t keep a steady rhythm for long, the second his pelvis slaps against your ass he speeds up. he’s serious about getting some amount of sleep so that you two could be well rested for tomorrow’s mission. he continues to thumb at your clit while he thrusts into you.

“mnghhh! s-shit.” you moan out once the two of you pull away. nanami’s eyes glance down at your spit glossed lips, you look so delicious like this. 

“pretty girls don’t curse.” he lectures you. 

you can’t think of an insult to throw at his way. all you can do is moan a weak ‘sorry’ and grab at his shoulder. nanami coos at how dumb you’re becoming for him. he uses his other arm to hook it under your leg and bring it up higher. even though the movement is subtle, the change is obvious.

nanami is barely holding up, himself. his skin is flushed red and his hair is sticking down to his head. he’s letting out huffs as he tries to control himself and not cum so fast. it’s hard not to when your pussy is gripping him so tightly. 

he looks down and watches as his dick appears and then disappears inside of you repeatedly. he could see strings of your arousal smeared all over both yourself and him.

“fuck.” he mumbles before diving for your lips once again. as much as he wants to finish as soon as possible with how wet and needy you are, he knows you two will be going at it for hours. 

[writingoddess1125]

Simon's Daughter Learning his Bad Words

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Wife Reader + Daughter OC

Simon did not want to be here- When they said their was a opportunity for parents to get called onto stage for a kindergarten Christmas program he didnt ACTUALLY thing he would be picked for this slice of fresh hell. Yet here he was, standing infront of a man a third of his size in green tights and a hat- Calling him a elf was the kindest thing he could think of calling this pointy eared bastard for calling him up to the stage.

"Now Sir! To prove you are on Santa's Good List do you say any bad words like Bah or Humbug!"

Simon felt his eyebrow twitch- He wanted to punch this elf fucker already. As he got ready to answer he heard it-

"Hes Used 'FOR FUCK SAKE!" Shrilled out, high pitch and happy to expose him. His little girl- His Hazel blurted out loud and proud for the whole school to hear.

Simon snorted hard and pivoted to the side, covering his face with his hands as he snorted out a laugh.

The Elf also breaking and turning away to laugh as well, as Hazel was confused by why everyone was laughing or why you had grabbed her so quickly to quiet down and not say that again.

Simon wiping the tears from his eye as he tried to calm himself down. Especially at feeling your burning glare from across the theater at him-

You always did warn him that the kids would start repeating him. Adding to the fact the chatters and laughter of other parents who where clearly taking the piss and finding this hilarious.

"Fuckin Hell-"

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 3.

Summary: Your second year at Oxford brings with it Farleigh, much to your delight, and you get to learn about Farleigh's personal nemesis (which he rolls his eyes at every time you call him that) Oliver. It turns out Oliver's actually very lovely, and does Felix quite the favour one unassuming morning. Farleigh's not happy to see him again, but Felix is.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: heavy drinking by everyone at the pub including the reader, and 'dog' being used to demean the reader once.

A/N: 5101 words. much longer than the last ones, and we finally have oliver!! very excited to FINALLY be able to write their weird little fuckin dynamic at oxford, i love them all very much. im a bit unhappy with the pacing of the beginning but i like how it picks up once oli is introduced, but also the bar scene is SO LONG and i will not apologise i love them your honour. id be mighty grateful for any feedback or if you have any thoughts in general about the story, i stare at so many kind asks in my inbox lovingly, i will answer them very soon i promise!! also this is so unedited, sorry lol.

Taglist: @strangemaximoff @renaissance-mama @tsach @malscorner @xhoneymoonx134 @yelchinweasleylothbrok @tarriea @florencediet @butitsbetterifyoudoittoem @belladonnadarksshade @fandom-multiamory @snazzynacho @jubileexoxo @soocore @be-lla-vie @nightingale2124 @willow-sages @null4ndv0id @gracieluvthemoon @day2dream @marvellover98 @navixfr @bitxhinthecomments @daintylovers @alesunsets @noturningbacknow @d0llysposts @alilcloudy @callsignwidow @moviequotes23 @325575 @bonnieblue0606 @osoqueen125 @hot-dino-nuggies @darkness-falls-xo @mattymurderdocks @flowerecs @weepingwitchofthewest @ilovemydinoboi @marsmallow433 @king0flies @cashtons-wife

----

At first you don't notice him for who he is. At first you hear about Farleigh's insufferable tutoring partner. At first, Oliver Quick means absolutely nothing to you.

The most important part of your second year of college is that Farleigh has finally conceded to joining you and Felix at Oxford. Once, during the last Summer break, while Felix had been off confronting his at-the-time good friend Eddie, after Farleigh had told him Eddie and Venetia had been sleeping together, you and Farleigh had gotten high in the maze to avoid the fallout.

Since the Cattons were paying for his education, he'd admitted that he wanted to remove himself as much as possible from his mother's legacy and memory and the guilt Sir James held about his sister. It would be hard to do at a college where he would be a legacy student because of his mother's attendance. You think you partly understood; certain people, usually staff, liked to kiss your ass when they found out about your own legacy status and the people your parents became, you're not so sure they'd treat Farleigh the same, all things considered.

But he's out of options.

Sometimes you're not sure what to make of Farleigh; his strange place in the Catton family was never something they seemed to like to discuss around you, but Farleigh was far more candid about it. So when he pulls these stunts, gets himself kicked out of schools, puts himself in precarious positions despite how you knew he genuinely enjoyed academics, especially literature, you can't help but wonder why.

"Don't try and pathologize it," you could hear him rolling his eyes as he attempted to scale the minotaur statue in the middle of the maze. Looking up at him from where you're laying in the grass, you watch him rise above the walls into the sunshine. Maybe it's dangerous, maybe he should stop, get down, be safe, but he looks far more content up there, on the edge. Maybe he feels freer up there, even if he knows it's not true.

So now he's with you and Felix at Oxford, a first year only academically, he slots perfectly into the group of friends you'd both already managed to collect.

The point is, you have no idea that of everything that happens in those first few weeks of your second year, the parties, the hook ups, the social dances you found yourself doing, that the guy Farleigh likes to complain about from his tutoring sessions - Oliver, Farleigh always says it with an eye roll - would mean so much more to you than you'd ever expect.

Everything about the man you would come to find extraordinary, from the outside, was completely, and charmingly, ordinary. Including how you'd met him.

Felix had overslept again, and threw a pillow at the door when you'd stuck your head into his room to remind him that he had classes. You'd left yourself enough time to walk, but Felix would have to at least run if he didn't get his ass up soon, or would ride his bike instead. Its on your way, so you duck your head in to at least check it there.

What you don't expect is the unassuming man with dark hair to have a gentle, almost caressing hand on the tire of Felix's bike. When you make a confused noise, he about jumps a foot in the air.

"Sorry," he seems to shrink in from himself, recoiling from the bike like he'd been caught red handed, "just admiring." He babbles, but can't meet your eyes. For a moment, you look over him, before turning your attention to the ludicrously expensive mountain bike that Felix has always taken for granted.

"It is a nice bike," you find yourself grinning, stepping towards the bike and giving the tire a squeeze, both as a show of your own appreciation, and to test the pressure, just in case, "didn't mean to spook you..." And you trail off, prompting for his name, holding your hand out.

It hangs in the air for a moment, and the man before you gives you a proper look over. The way he holds himself, as if trying to take up as little space as physically possible, but his eyes, his gaze, oh it longed to swallow whole every detail of everything he cast it upon.

"Oliver," he says after a very long moment. Despite his demure voice, there's something deliberate, unwavering about it, "Quick," he follows it up with, "I'm Oliver Quick." And he ducks his gaze, sparing you from his intensity as you shake his hand.

"Oliver Quick," you turn the name over on your tongue; the same Oliver that Farleigh's been complaining about, you ponder, before giving him a smile, "I'm Y/N." As soon as the handshake drops, Oliver's doing that thing again, shrinking back and looking uncomfortable in the space.

"Yeah, I think I've seen you around," Oliver nods but can't meet your gaze, "around campus, I mean -" Which reminds you -

"Fuck, I'm almost running late," you hissed, spinning on your heel, "sorry to run Ollie, you seem lovely!" You call over your shoulder as you bolt to class, hearing him calling out;

"No trouble," and awkwardly trailing off the further away you get, "you seem... very nice too..."

Bursting through the door to your tutorial with five minutes to spare, your lecture looks up from his desk for a brief moment. Giving him a nod, you try and slip past him to grab a seat by one of your friends, chatting near the back, when he raises his voice.

"No Mister Catton today either, I presume," he says with a sigh, and you again check you watch before plastering on an apologetic smile.

"He'll be here," you assured, "promise." The professor did not seem impressed.

Sitting next to India, she immediately greets you with a hug.

"Felix hung over?" She grins, and you anyway in respond with a smirk.

"After last night? I'd assume so."

"King's Arms tonight?"

"Of course."

When he does eventually show up, it's ten minutes late with an apology about how his bike had gotten a flat tire. The professor, just tells him to take a seat, and Felix does with many placating thanks, sliding into one of the open few open seats in the row in front of yours. Ruffling his hair, he throws a faintly guilty grin over his shoulder at you and India, telling you both not to start.

After the tutorial, you fully intend of having lunch with India, as the two of you don't have any other classes until the afternoon, the two of you walk with Felix to where he'd stashed his bike before his next lecture. Except -

"That's not yours," you look at the bicycle curiously, "I thought you had a flat."

"Had," Felix agrees, wheeling the unfamiliar bike from the rack with a grin, "bloody angel of a man lent me his."

"Of course someone just gave you their bike," India chuckles, reaching out to give Felix's shoulder a squeeze before he mounts the bike with intent to take off.

"Lent," Felix grinned back, "I'm gonna give it back."

"And what about yours?" You asked, eyebrows raised.

"He took it back for me."

"Your hero," you laughed, shaking your head at him.

"My absolute hero," Felix agreed, "I'll tell you about it later, okay? King's Arms tonight?"

And once he's away, and you and India are on your way to the campus cafe, her arm tucked in hers, she gives you a knowing, almost exasperated smile.

"You're already trying to figure out how to fix his tire, aren't you?" Her nails dig a little too much and her smile's a little too sly and her tone almost grates against a thought you don't like to consider, so you push it to the back of your mind and give an embarrassed little smile.

"Was it that obvious?"

"No, but you are," she leans in, lips almost against your ear, smile in her voice, "endearingly predictable," she murmurs against the shell of your ear, "you're always wrapped up in him."

"Right now I seem to be rather wrapped up in you," you rest your free hand on hers, tucked into the crook of her elbow, taking her hint and lowering your voice to something flirty.

"And make darling Felix wait?" She teased in response. Instead of answering her properly, you ask her back to your dorm under the guise of lunch and she happily accepts.

The bike shop is closed and Felix has class and you can't even be sure if this supposed bike saviour has even returned Felix's bike by now; there's no waiting, but India likes feeling prioritised, so you keep all that to your self. India likes to feel important in Felix's life. Anyone who Felix spends even a little of his time and attention on ends up rather addicted to that feeling, to feeling special to Felix Catton, and India is one of the many who have picked up on your own importance to the man himself.

So you're not dating India. You're also not not dating India; you're a placeholder of sorts, which would be cruel to you if you didn't like her well enough or if you weren't satisfied taking your fun with her. It would also probably be cruel to India if she knew the truth, that Felix thought she was hot and wasn't ready to commit to maybe dating her, but that he was getting that way he sometimes got about people, that he wanted them around, wanting to not share them, but without devoting himself to them. That's where you come in. A placeholder. A proxy. An almost. Someone who makes this pretty girl feel important and close to Felix. Someone Felix isn't worried about falling in love with India even while keeping her happy and around.

When you arrive late to the King's Arms with your own around India's shoulders, Felix lights up while Farleigh, from beside him, narrows his eyes with a smirk.

"Cute shade of lipstick," he says slyly, even as he moves over at Felix's insistence to fit both yourself and India in the booth beside him. Farleigh flicks the collar of the shirt you'd thrown on in a rush to get dressed for afternoon classes, "on both of you."

"Are you jealous, Farleigh?" India grins, taking it all in stride as you pull your collar out with your thumb to try and inspect it. India's lipstick was smeared faintly against the collar from where she'd been enthusiastically kissing her way down your jaw a few hours earlier.

"Of course," Farleigh's sly smile widens to a cocky grin, and he winks at her, while she leans over you to plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth with a wicked grin.

"Right in front of her partner?" Annabel, Felix's latest fling was on his other side, reaching over Felix to shove Farleigh's shoulder with a scandalised laugh.

"Not really together," India mused, even as she shifted to lean heavily against you, her arm around you and tucking herself up by your side. You nodded in kind, shrugging as Felix had to hide his laughter in his pint.

"And besides," Farleigh declares in a voice you knew all too well, "if anyone knows how to share it's Y/N," with a cheshire-cat smile and making a show of putting his hand far up your thigh under the table. Surprised by the outright boldness of it all, Felix, who had been trying to take a sip to cover his amusement, ends up snorting beer out of his nose as he laughs, which sets the whole table off.

It's later in the night, several rounds of drinks and plates of chips, when you finally remember to ask Felix about his bike. There's this look in his eyes as he recounts the details, how he'd somehow gotten on the wrong side of something small and sharp when he'd been found by his 'absolute hero'.

"Ollie," he says brightly, "Ollie - Oliver - something, I don't -" he's babbling, and though he doesn't at the time, both yourself and Farleigh react, though in vastly different ways.

"Oliver?" Farleigh draws out the name with disdain, like it's done him some sort of personal affront, or set off a bad smell, judging by his expression.

"Don't make that face," Felix rolls his eyes, giving Farleigh a good-natured shove, but it's all becoming background noise to you as you glance over your shoulder. In your mind, all you can focus on the brief but captivating moments you shared with a blue-eyed Oliver just this morning. As if by fate, when you finally come back to reality, and realise you're staring at the bar, you see those same blue eyes staring back at you, intense and surprised.

"There he is!" Behind you, Felix's voice raises above the din of the pub with barely restrained glee, "Ollie! Oliver! Oliver!" And immediately those blue eyes snap to your attention-grabbing best friend, "come over here, mate!" Felix insists, and you drop your gaze with a faint smile.

As Felix loudly and insistently vies for Oliver's attention and company, you briefly raise your gaze, only to see the disdain on Farleigh's face having grown immensely.

Oliver. Farleigh's classmate Oliver. Insufferable tutoring Oliver. Know-it-all Oliver. 'Thus' Oliver. No regard for style in his academics or his wardrobe Oliver.

Felix's hero, Oliver.

Considering how much joy Farleigh took from ribbing you at every given opportunity, just to see your squirm for his amusement, you supposed you could take some joy from his discomfort in this moment. When he sees your smug smile he scowls at you.

"This guy's my fucking hero," you've heard that warmth in Felix's voice a hundred times over, "just telling everyone how you saved my ass today," you wonder how long it will take Oliver to fall for him too.

Oliver, for his part, plays at being abashed as the rest of the group gives him faint compliments, gaze surprisingly shallow as he takes you all in. Keeping your own eyes down for the moment, you take the cigarette from India that you'd been sharing with her. You quickly reach into Felix's jean pocket beside you for the lighter you know is there, and when you look up to light it, cigarette poised between your lips, you see Oliver's gaze momentarily focused on the lack of space between yourself and Felix, where your hand had disappeared. Felix, you know without even having to look at him, hasn't even looked away from Oliver once.

"Take a seat, I owe you a drink," Felix grins, and is already shoving the few people on his left, before you put a hand on his arm to get him to settle down.

"Could you get the next round, India?" You ask her quietly, and though she hesitates for a moment, she relents, considering it was meant to be her shout after all.

Oliver is hesitating as India stands and smooths out her skirt, heading for the bar, and finally Felix remembers that most people's worlds don't revolve around him.

"Oh, sorry, are you with friends?"

Another moment of deliberation from Oliver, before he finally relents to Felix, and agrees to join them. Looking around, there's a chair next to a table behind Farleigh that was going unused, or -

When you pat the now empty seat at the end of the booth beside yourself, you're not looking at Oliver. Chin in your hand and cigarette poised between your fingers, you're giving Farleigh a grin that's all teeth, while he looks like he's trying to stave off a sudden tension headache.

"Come here, Oliver Quick," you refuse to explain your smug smile, "I don't bite."

"Yes they do," Farleigh huffs in irate response, to which most of the rest of the group cracks up. The leather beside you shifts, and you can feel the heat Oliver radiates before you even look at him.

"Quick, Oliver Quick!" Felix, behind you, is muttering almost to himself, before adding, "wait, how did you know that?" And throwing himself practically over your shoulder as you'd turned to face Oliver properly.

"We met this morning," you say quietly, gaze fixed on Oliver's, on the way he's taking you both in. With Felix's chin on your shoulder, the two of you cheek to cheek and watching him with interest, it could be enough to send anyone else running. But his gaze isn't the shallow one he'd ghosted across the others, he's drinking this moment, and the both of you, in. Smile stretching wide across your face and you tip your head against Felix's, "just as lovely as I thought," and turning your face even slightly towards Felix means your lips against his temple, not that either of you seem to mind, "your hero."

"My fuckin' hero," Felix agrees adamantly, though you and he sit back as India approaches with a tray of pints and an exasperated look.

"And you've given up my seat," she sighs, placing the drinks on the table for everyone else to take their share. Farleigh's already passive-aggressively reached behind himself to grab the extra empty chair, and you promise to make it up to her with a heavy layer of implications that the rest of the table snickers at.

Introductions are made and drinks are had and the night carries on apace until you, at the very least, felt like you could call yourself reasonably wasted. Despite how quiet Oliver is in the general conversation, Felix makes a point of always including him, arm around your shoulders so he can lean across you to talk to him, while Oliver just tried to keep up.

Everything about Oliver shouted that these people weren't his people; his clothes, his accent, his vernacular, his very unfamiliarity with who so many of them were considering their families were often titans of industry. Still, you respected the effort he was making to keep up. Whenever even the hint of a joke at Oliver's expense could be felt in the air, Felix shut it down, and though it started out subtle, it became less so as the night wore on; the grateful look on Oliver's face, even as he tried to duck to hide it, said how much he appreciated the gesture.

It's decided almost unanimously by the time you have to buy a round that it should be the first round of shots for the table. Several more would be to come, but you were getting tequila, and all the fanfare that came with it.

Getting back to the table you find Oliver's slid into your spot by Felix. Though he tries to apologise and get up, you shush him, insisting it's fine as you sit down next to him with the tray of shots topped with lime wedges, and the shot glass half full of salt for the table the bartender had kindly provided.

"You do know this is why I was late to my tutorial this morning," Felix still helped himself to a shot glass with lime as the salt was being passed around the table.

"Salt?" Oliver frowned at the glass in front of him, "lime?"

"You've never done tequila shots before?" Farleigh scoffed, holding India's hand up in front of himself where she'd offered it to him to apply salt.

"No, I haven't," is all Oliver can say awkwardly, watching as Farleigh sprinkled a line of salt across the back of India's aloft hand, licking it up in one swift motion before he took the shot and bit the lime in quick succession.

"Salt, shot, lime," you give Oliver a nudge to bring his attention back to you.

"Salt, shot, lime," Oliver repeats, looking from his glass to the glass full of salt that Felix had reached over and brought to your side of the table, "do I have to lick the salt off of someone else?"

"Not necessarily," Felix says from his other side, while Annabel giggled and allowed him to apply salt to her hand.

"More fun that way," she adds coyly.

"Not unless you want to," your own shot glass sits untouched, salt now sitting between both your glasses.

"Do you- should I-" Oliver's stumbling over his words, fidgeting with the end of the lime.

"Lick it off their neck," Farleigh barked from across the table, and though you tried to tell Oliver that he didn't have to do anything like that, and Felix's disappointed admonishment of his cousin, the entire rest of the table, who had finished their own shots and were now invested in the drama, light up with agreement.

"You're so crass, you're gonna give him the wrong idea," Felix groaned, rolling his eyes with frustration.

"I love Y/N but I don't think there is a wrong idea about them -"

"Watch what the fuck you say about them, Farleigh -"

"Watch what I say about your fucking dog-?"

"I'll lick their neck!" Oliver announces at the top of his lungs, interrupting the vicious barb, and the way Felix had practically leapt across half the table in a sudden fury. For a long moment, tense silence hangs in the air, Farleigh half out of his chair, wearing a sneer, and Felix braced over the table with white-knuckled fists pressed into the woodgrain. Then, as Felix sits back down and things begin to ease, once again all eyes return to Oliver, who's shifting in his seat, looking at you with almost apology in his eyes, "if- if you're okay with that."

After a beat, you break into a self deprecating smile.

"I do like getting my neck licked," you laughed, and immediately angled your head and pulled the collar of your shirt to the side so he could have a better angle and more of your shoulder to apply salt. The tension dropped almost entirely as everyone but Farleigh and Felix burst out in cheers. Chatter arose again as Oliver fumbled with the salt, but you caught Felix's eyes from behind him. Tension in his brow that you longed to smooth away, and discomfort in his gaze, but when you smiled you could see him take a breath, and smile back.

"I won't bite," it comes as a surprise when you hear Oliver say this, so quiet only you can hear as he diligently applies a sprinkle of salt to the soft skin of where your throat meets your shoulder, "promise," you can't see his expression but you think you can hear him smirking. It actually sounds almost like flirting.

India's been glaring at you across the table whenever she hasn't been flirting overtly with Farleigh for the past half an hour. So you flirt back.

"Not even if I ask nicely?" You murmur back, trying to repress the thrill that the whole moment was giving you. You hear the faintest, momentary rumble of a laugh from Oliver before you feel his hand on your thigh as if to steady himself, and his tongue on your neck. It's barely a second of contact, the delicate caress of his mouth as he licked the line of salt clear from your skin. Quickly, he then takes the shot, and swallows before biting down on the lime, making a pained face as the table cheered.

His hand is still on your thigh; his grip is tight.

As he's spluttering and grinning and Felix is clapping him on the back for the effort, he's rather abashedly offering himself to you, if you'd like to repeat the same salt process on him -

"You've done enough for your first shot, Ollie," you told him with a fond nudge, happily applying salt to the back of your own hand, completing the ritual with far less fanfare. Still, when you glance past Oliver to Felix, you see the way he's regarding the newcomer, with a kind of awe and warmth. This too you know well.

Crammed so close in the booth, Felix's arm stays around Oliver's shoulders for most of the rest of the night, and while no-one can see it, Oliver's hand remains on your thigh. Sometimes he taps along to the music of the pub that you've already tuned out, sometimes he's rubbing small circles with his thumb, or give you a squeeze when he's laughing at a joke, but it never waivers.

The more drunk you become, the more you find yourself leaning into him, and you begin to tune out the conversation, focusing only on your drink, the warmth of Oliver and his hand on you, and on the sensation of Felix's hand playing with your hair since his arm was around Oliver's shoulders, and you're leaning your head against him.

Everything's become blurry, your brain is still trying to catch up after you take another shot from muscle memory alone when Farleigh starts insisting on Oliver shout the next round, and for that round to be jaeger bombs.

"We just did shots," you shake your head with a faint frown, but the movement makes you feel all kind of queasy.

"You tapping out?" Farleigh, in much better spirits considering how many he'd consumed, is all wide, challenging smiles full of teeth.

"Nope," you again shake your head, against your better judgement, "never ever ever." Everything is spinning, even with your eyes closed.

"Then you shouldn't be letting Ollie snake his way out of paying for his round," Farleigh sounds all kinds of smug, and despite how you're all kind of done with him for tonight, and Oliver is trying to insist that he's not trying to wiggle out of paying for a round, the rest of the table have apparently taken up Farleigh's crusade. They're booing him, hissing at him, while Farleigh's smugness screams social triumph; you can feel Oliver's fingers twitching on your thigh, like he wants to be fidgeting but can't bring himself to let you go.

"Fine," Oliver relents to the peer pressure, letting you go and throwing his hands in the air, "can you move a sec?" He asks, and you shuffle out to let him past, before scooting back in and back beside a once more frustrated Felix.

Farleigh argues that it's the rules of the pub when Felix asks him to give Oliver a break, but you don't really hear them. You've cleared enough space on the table in front of you to be able to cross your arms on the table, laying your head on your arms to try and see if it would help. Felix is rubbing soothing circles on your back as he argues with Farleigh, probably out of pure habit, so you try and focus on that sensation, and picking a point that you see that you can focus on.

Everything's sideways, the bar, the people, the street outside, but it doesn't matter. In the moments you find yourself focusing on Oliver in the cool light of the bar, everything else falls away. He looks antsy and uncomfortable, watching the bartender pour the shots, wallet in his hand. You'd have paid in a heartbeat if Farleigh hadn't been so insistent on attacking Oliver's pride. Everything else about him was so charmingly ordinary, perhaps that's why Farleigh was infuriated by him, and why he'd attacked Oliver's pride, one of the few things that Farleigh probably believed Oliver had of value to himself.

Tomorrow, you and Farleigh were having words.

Tonight, you wanted to somehow help Oliver without making any kind of big deal about it. Problem was, you weren't sure how. You weren't even sure if you were capable of walking in straight line right now.

"Fi -" when you turn your head to your other side, you see Felix, half finished a cigarette, with a pensive look on his face as he too was watching Oliver. When he looks at you there's a moment that the two of you share, of understanding, of compassion and a shared goal, "can you get me a glass of water?" You asked, knowing he'd take the hint. Thankfully, he smiles at you, the two of you shuffling once more so he could get out of the booth and head towards Oliver and the bar.

Leaning on the end of the booth, you wait for Felix to return before you sit back down, instead focusing on the interaction between the two men at the bar. It's not that you can hear them, but you can see the grateful but anxious look in Oliver's eyes, and the way he can't look away from Felix's smile, and something sharp and bright and intrigued lights up in your chest.

There's a moment as the interaction begins winding down, when Felix takes the tray of drinks, and looks back at your gathered group of friends. His eyes meet yours, faint flicker of familiar affection passing in the next moment as he says something else to Oliver before he's making a beeline back to the group.

"Thank you, Ollie!" He announces brightly, much to the cheer and delight of the rest of the group once the jaeger bombs are set down at the table. Caught up in the sudden influx of joy, you chant Ollie's name, clapping along, not even realising that since you'd let go of the booth you were starting to take on a lean.

"You're fucking legless," Felix crows with laughter, who had already slid back into the booth and was now taking you by the arm and sitting you back down beside himself, "I'm cutting you off, you're on the waters now," he joked, arm around you to steady you, though you weren't inclined to disagree. Thankfully, in the next moment, a water was being placed in front of you, and a cheer was once again rising from the group as Oliver rejoined you all, bashful smile on his face as everyone was lavishing praise on him for following through with buying the round.

The glass was cold and clear and faintly frosted, few ice cubes floating delicately on top of the pint of water before you, looking absolutely perfect in this golden, humid pub. Even just reaching out and holding the cold glass of water in your hands seemed to make everything a little less blurry at the edges.

As you dragged the glass towards you, surprised by your sudden craving for fresh, cold water, praise tumbles from your lips, words half blurring together, and Oliver takes his seat once more beside you.

"Ollie, you're my fucking hero."