#especially when it doesn't turn out how you want

[ddejavvu]

no cause now I'm thinking about Garcia freaking out when Spencer comes to work with a smartphone and asking him what made him finally get one after years of her asking him too and Spence just going bright red and stammering trying to think of a reason that isn't related to your nudes 🤭

part 1

--

Spencer's text tone is what gives him away, because he's not interested enough in the device to use it for anything other than necessity. But the familiar whistle has everyone digging in their pockets until they see Spencer reaching into his own bag.

"Reid, I don't think it's your landline," Prentiss snickers, checking her own phone to find a blank screen.

"I got a new phone yesterday." Spencer grumbles, "And I keep forgetting to ask Y/N how to turn the sounds off."

Penelope blinks at Spencer owlishly as he retracts a brand new, shiny iPhone from his messenger bag, default background shining especially bright against the dark wood table. She'll tell him later that it's the switch on the left side, but now she gawps, "Spencer, you got a new phone?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?" He already looks mildly annoyed at the teasing, probably because he'd stubbornly stuck to his outdated mobile for so long that his pride has an iPhone-shaped bruise.

"What made you make the change?" Hotch asks, voice gentler but curious all the same.

"Yeah, I've been begging you for, like, years, Reid." Garcia frowns, "Texting me isn't really texting me if I can't send you gifs from the gif keyboard."

"She favors the one of the dancing baby," Rossi drawls, "But I'm sure that's not what Dr. Reid felt compelled to upgrade for."

The notification that's displayed across his screen is a message from you, but that's predictable because he'd adamantly refused to get notifications from anything but text messages and calls. He's still partial to his newspapers, and he won't fill an online grocery cart if he can help it.

'Y/N: Attachment: 1 image'

There's not much he can see from the little thumbnail to the right of the notification, but- it's enough. It's the color of your skin, mostly the color of your skin, with splashes of red in between. He knows he can't open it now, and he wishes he had just a little more experience with situations like this so that he could maintain some composure.

"Uhm," He starts, cheeks most likely bright pink, "I don't know, I just- I just thought it was time, probably. Y/N says she didn't like that my messages were green."

"Oh, it's Y/N," Morgan croons, and JJ consoles Garcia with a sympathetic smile and a pat to the arm.

"Well-! And, and it's good for the GPS, but I do still prefer paper maps," Spencer rambles, "And it's- it's nice to see how many literary-themed emailing lists there are."

"Emailing lists," Morgan scoffs, "Pretty boy, you're signing up for spam. But whatever text has got you blushing there isn't about Shakespeare. Just let me know when you need a lesson in taking your own pictures, m'kay? She doesn't want weird angles or bad lighting, trust me."

[comicaurora]

Ya Ever See That Trope Where:

The big bad guy's plan to destroy the world turns out to be unfeasible but he's still gonna, like, blow up a city? Like his plan was to blow up a city and that would somehow blow up the world but that's somewhat not gonna happen. Now the protags still have to rush to save the city because the bbg is still gonna through with it. Possibly with a withdrawal of resources now that the world isn't at risk.

Been thinking of this ever since your "Save The World" Tropetalk. Especially how the audience will often go "Well, there is no way they'll go through with it" when the world is at stake.

It's a common final stage of bossfights! Our heroes enact a complex multistage collaborative plan to foil the villains' overarching scheme, but after that succeeds they still need to escape the exploding base or have one final fight on a crumbling catwalk or some similarly dramatic final encounter with their personal survival at stake. It can actually be narratively higher-stakes than the Saving The World part, because once our heroes have ensured the world is saved, the narrative doesn't need them to survive to the end, so it's technically possible for them to go out in a phyrric victory.

The crumbling of their machinations can lead to a Villainous Breakdown. When the villain's defeat leads to the base exploding as the final threat, that's a Load-Bearing Boss. When the villain actively chooses to initiate one last dangerous confrontation even though their overarching plans were foiled, that's Taking You With Me. A villain who wanted to rule the world but will now settle for destroying it might initiate a Suicidal Cosmic Temper Tantrum.

[lyricwritesprose]

"Karim?" Joey says very quietly. We're both pretending to use the library computers. Neither of us are. We're here because it's fucking freezing out there and it's warm in here, and the librarians are pretty good about not throwing anyone out unless they're making noise or causing trouble. Freezing doesn't matter to me but I worry about Joey, he's got things going on that turn his self-care skills into pure shit.

"Yeah?" I say, just as quietly.

"Need a reality check."

Yeah, that's one of the things that's going on. Joey gets more or less anchored depending on the day. "Go ahead," I say.

"Thought I saw you fly off yesterday." Joey frowns. "Yesterday? Maybe Monday. Shit, what day is it?"

It's a fast struggle but a surprisingly difficult one. I don't like life on the street any more than the rest of us, but Seriously Bad Things could happen if my real name gets out. I could just lie to Joey. He'd believe me. It might not even bother him that much. He's hallucinated before. All I'd have to do…

Is lie to him about the state of his own brain.

Yeah. No. "Yeah, you saw that."

Joey thinks about this for a moment. He's scrambled at times but nobody ever said he was dumb. He's got a degree in astronomy. Planets sometimes talk to him but when he's on top of his game, he's sharp. "Shit."

"I'd like it not to get around."

"Why the hell not? You could be a star!"

"I could also be an experimental subject or a guy whose family is strapped to a big machine with a laser pointed at them. Prefer to avoid."

"Yeah, but—but why stay here?"

"Same as everyone else, I'm dead broke. Look, even if it weren't for ADHD issues it is really hard to hold down a job when you might have to disappear at any given second to save someone's life. You know? And I won't take money from my sister, she's barely scraping by already." And has mixed feelings about me ever since I terrorized her nasty piece of work ex, since she's bright enough to figure out that I couldn't have done that without some sort of power.

"I guess you can't just rob a bank," Joey muses. "I mean, I guess you could, but—"

I sigh. "The truth is, if some costume figures out how to do that without violence, I usually give 'em a lecture and let 'em go. Just because I won't do it doesn't mean I don't get it. Way I see it, I'm here to protect people, not things."

Joey nods. "Seems like there should be ways you could make life easier for yourself, though."

"Mm. Sometimes. There are some ways it is easier. I don't feel the cold and I don't feel the heat, that's something."

"Lucky motherfucker," Joey says without rancor.

"And, well, you've probably noticed. That things do tend to happen to those bullshit benches."

I see the start of a smile on his face. "The ones you can't lie down on."

"Yeah, those. The dividers get ripped out eventually and nobody knows how, you know? Honestly it's a stupid idea anyway, even if it wasn't for us, who wants a bench where you can't even sit next to your date? A bench where you can't sit next to someone is called a fuckin' chair, and what sort of bitch goes to city hall and says, "I'd like to install a park chair?" Who's ever heard of a park chair? Dumbfucks."

Joey nods in perfect understanding. Then he says, a little hesitantly, "You know the Golden Tomato?"

"I couldn't afford that kind of yuppie food even when I had a place, but yeah, I know it."

"They've put spikes out front. Like, little nubbles in the concrete so people can't sit down under their awning."

I think about this. On the one hand, I've got to be very careful about the favors I do, but this is a good cause…

"Yeah, I wouldn't be surprised if something happens to those, but, Joey? Really keep it under your hat."

"Even if I wanted to tell, nobody believes a schizophrenic," Joey pointed out. "Especially one with the twitches. Fucking bitch doctors." Tardive dyskinesia virtually always happens because some son of a bitch screws up on dosage, and—as Joey can tell you—it's also an instant ticket out of a job interview.

There are reasons I look out for Joey. Beyond, you know. Liking him. Kind of useless as fuck anyway, liking him, I'm ninety-nine percent certain he's straight, but it would take a real shitful asshole to drop a friend just because I'm never going to get in his pants. We've got each other's backs, that's what's important.

"I worry a lot about people getting scooped up and questioned," I admit. I could probably stand to talk to a psychologist about it, actually, but…who? "Don't worry about it. I trust you."

And I will probably never admit to Joey exactly how much that took to say.

You're a superhero. While in your suit, you're beloved by the city, but outside of it? You're a homeless man, unable to get a job nor pay rent because of your duties.

[cuteandhughesy]

Put Your Hands On Me | Will Cuylle

summary: you have a crush on your client, and you’re pretty sure he likes you too. just when will thinks you can’t get any better, you decide to do something about the tension between you.

[word count] 4.5k

warnings: NSFW! personal trainer! reader | flirting | kinda oblivious will | suggestive dialogue | kissing | smut | unprotected p in v intercourse | semi-public sex | creampie | this is basically porn…read at your own discretion

a/n: based off this request! I wasn’t familiar with mr. cuylle before getting a few requests for him, but reading this idea inspired me! so, here we are 😌

🎵 cold sweat by tinashe

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will's teammates are always asking him why he does it to himself. their voices, always tinged with confusion and amusement, constantly pestering him about why he doesn't just use the gym at the rink, but instead goes to the one almost 30 minutes farther.

but they know why, even if will doesn't disclose his reasoning. it's because you're there. you who is also known as his personal trainer. will doesn't even need a trainer—the rangers provide well qualified ones at the rink if he actually wanted one. but they don't wear pastel coloured sets and smile all bright at him. will's so down bad for you that he'll mess up sets on purpose just so you'll come over and touch him in correction.

it's awful and embarrassing—especially when his teammates give him little teasing, knowing looks. it makes will feel like he's in trouble when he hasn't even done anything wrong.

he's just...into you. since when has that become a crime?

"arms up, will." your sweet yet firm tone has will blinking, affectively snapping himself out of his daydream. a daydream where he gets to drag you into the locker room and kiss you and rip your bright pink thighs down and—

you touch him, fingers wrapping around his biceps and adjusting him. suddenly, the dumbbell's clutched in his hands become unbearably heavy—and it's simply because you're close enough that he can smell vanilla perfume mixed with your sweat.

which, will didn't ever think sweat smell would turn him on, but here he is. "right sorry," he says between deep inhales of air, helping in assisting your correction by getting into proper form. you nod and mumble some kind of praise as will starts lifting again, taking a step back to give him space.

your eyes zone in on his arms, watching the way his muscles contract and veins pop under the weights. it's truly hard to focus on your job when will is around. you used to be a professional personal trainer, but ever since will cuylle waltzed into the gym—bright eyed and bushy tailed—professionalism went out the window.

so yeah, maybe you push him extra hard so that his sweat soaks his shirt and gives you a nice view at his defined abs. and okay, yeah, you definitely touch him more than you should—look at him more flirtatiously than any other client of yours. but you can't help it.

and the worse part is, you know will likes you. or at least he wants to fuck you—that much is obvious. you catch him staring at your ass and lips more than the weights in the gym, always blushing when you catch him. but like you said, your professionalism has flown out the window, and you fucking like it. you crave it—crave him.

but no matter how much will likes you, you can't get him to crack. you don't know how much more obvious flirting and longing looks it will take for him to see that you want him just as bad as he wants you.

you reach out again. starting at his elbows, you softly trail your fingers along his arm, following the natural line of muscles up his bicep. "you feel that stretch here?" your words are breathy and low, eyes flickering up to meet his.

will visibly swallows, his reps momentarily stilling. a bead of sweat trails off his jawline from his temple, tempting you as it lazily falls down his neck. you want to reach out and let your tongue swipe it away—nipping at the muscles and tendons in his neck until he has no choice but to rip off your clothes.

"I feel…something for sure." he mutters lowly. will fights off a sharp inhale when you squeeze his biceps. your smirk is only making his cock harden, and soon enough he'll be excusing himself for the bathroom in order to tuck his length into his waistband.

will clears his throat, desperate to stop the dirty thoughts from taking over his head and body. he begins moving again, fingers tightening on the bar—cursing himself when he thinks about them tightening in your hair.

"good—I want it to burn."

he almost wants to laugh. "oh it's definitely burning."

you can't tell if he's trying to save himself or if will is genuinely that clueless. you're practically flaunting your tits in his face today—wrapped tightly in a bubblegum pink sports bra that pushes the fleshiest part of your tits to the sky. you're practically spilling out in invitation.

you watch his eyes, ever so subtle, take a glance at your chest—like usual. you're sweating, just enough to make you look glowy, and will thinks he might collapse. he curses, so low that you barley hear it.

just when you think he’s about to break—take you in his arms and kiss you silly—will drops the weights to the ground, so sudden it makes you blink in surprise, the dumbbells echoing off the padded floor.

"you okay?" you question cautiously. a million things are running through your head as will rubs a hand through his messy, dirty blonde hair—messing up his strands even more. it gives him a rugged, sexy look that makes your clit throb pathetically.

have you read this situation wrong? maybe will doesn't like you and you've made him uncomfortable with what you think is obvious advances. or maybe he's hurt—strained a muscle. it has your trainer side kicking in, and you take a quick step forward.

but will takes a step back, like he can't stand too close to you. your heart pulls uncomfortably, and you have to fight back a frown. "no," he laughs breathlessly, looking away from his shoes and into your curious eyes. you look so soft and beautiful and it's only making him feel like shit.

he feels like such a sleeze. eyeing up his personal trainer while she's just trying to do her job. will clear his throat, "well, yes. i'm fine but i'm also not fine. not at all." the word vomit is building, and it doesn't help when you're just standing there—all pretty lips and perfect body—looking at him like you're waiting for him to break.

will continues, "i'm dying here, y/n. I can't focus on working out when you're here." immediately he closes his eyes, exhaling shakily at his own words. he sounds so fucking stupid.

but you? you're not phased by his admission. "why do you pay me?" you question softly, taking another step in his direction.

his brows furrow, "huh?"

"why. do. you. pay. me?" you repeat slower, the tips of your shoes hitting his. if will wasn't feeling hot before, he is now. your tits are practically brushing his sweat soaked shirt, and your scent is the only thing he can smell—not the rubber mats or sanitizer. just you.

you're waiting for his answer patiently—but there's a glimmer in your eyes that makes him think that you know. a heat wave of embarrassment flushed over him, "because you're my trainer." he tells you dumbly.

there's no one else in the gym to witness this moment, and a part of you thinks that's why you're so bold. you're sick of the cat and mouse game between you—it's been months. months upon months of yearning for his lips, and your nipples pinching anytime he gets close to you.

this time it's your brows that pull. "yeah, but why? do you guys not have PTs at the rink?"

he's so busted. will nods, clearing his throat while simultaneously trying to clear his head. will seriously needs to get a grip of himself before you kick him in the balls for being such a sleaze. "no, uh we do," will stutters.

he tries to look away, but you follow his gaze. not giving him the opportunity. "okay, so why don't you use them?" you push.

if you take one step closer you'll be able to feel his painfully hard bulge. will shuffles back, "because I like you more than them." the answer is pathetic, especially considering a minute ago he said he can't focus working out if you're in the same room.

but much to his shock you just smile. it's not a polite smile like you're about to kick him out of the gym, but rather a playful smile full of teasing and secrets. "you like me?” you naturally trail off, adding a jolt to will's heart with the suspense. "or my boobs?"

yeah, will is seriously going to need to move cities after this conversation. and of course you just had to bring up your boobs—the ones that have been staring at him since he showed up an hour ago. like clockwork you watch his panicked riddled eyes flicker down to your chest, and you can't help but smirk as he snaps out of it—finding your gaze once again.

"what? I like you." will stresses. he almost wants to reach out and shake you in reassurance—because above all, he does actually like you. he doesn't just want to hit it and quit it. he's never been that type of guy. but will doesn't touch you, because right now it's definitely not the time to make this situation any worse.

and will is so sure it's about to take a turn for the worse.

"it's okay, will," you shrug, taking your plump bottom lip between your teeth, "I know you check me out. you're not as subtle as you think you are."

he curses, "fuck. i'm sorry."

"you are?"

if will wasn't so ready to lick his wounds and retreat, he would've caught the suggestive tone to your words and the way you've pushed even closer—nipples poking through your sports bra and brushing his chest.

but because he's so fucking embarrassed and ashamed for liking you, will keeps going. "yeah and if you want to like fire me or something-I don't know if that's how it works, but I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, y/n. I can go." god, he even starts to step back, disconnecting his phone from the speakers—because you always let him play his music—as if he's getting ready to leave.

you grab his bicep, stopping him before he has a chance to hightail and run. "no, I'm not uncomfortable," you mumble, blinking up at him all slowly and syrupy, making wills body all but tighten.

he swallows, "you're not?" a million emotions flash through him; confusion, curiosity, doubt, excitement, hope, and fucking at the top of everything is arousal because apparently he's a teenage boy.

you shake your head slowly, "I like it."

your quiet admission shoots straight down to his dick. "oh shit," will breathes, "really?"

"mhm hmph," you hum lowly, fingers squeezing around the meat of his bicep. expect this time you're not holding back—you're not masking your touch with professionalism. you're simply just feeling him up.

will watches as your eyes trail over his figure, drinking up every ripple and hard surface below his clothes. his skin pebbles in goosebumps, letting out another shaky breath that draws your attention. "god, you're killing me."

that makes you laugh. not in a way that's condescending or like you actually find his statement funny—but in disbelief. "and you think i'm not dying here? god will—your biceps and the little groans you make and your fucking thighs and your smile." you lick onto your bottom lip, will tracking your tongue with his eyes shamelessly.

"i've been flirting with you for months," you admit quietly.

shock is an understatement in that moment. will thinks he must truly be clueless because he had no fucking idea. "wait, really?"

"yes," you grin.

he groans—feeling embarrassed for a whole new reason. because what do you mean you've been flirting with him while he's been actively trying to behave. the many nights he's been alone in bed, fisting his aching, wet cock alone....when it could've been you doing it instead.

this whole time will could've been kissing you and fucking your sweet pussy in and outside of the semi-private gym—and then taken you out for lunch and coffee afterwards like the gentleman he is.

will can’t even think about that or he’ll begin to spiral—analyzing every single thing you’ve said and interaction shared that should’ve made him realize.

"i'm such an idiot." he huffs. will finally allows himself to touch you, large hand settling at the base of your spine—thick fingers splayed across your dewy skin.

the sight of your grin and the way you lean into him—like you're craving his touch—has will following suit with his own smile pulling at his lips. the same lips you've dreamed about kissing and sucking on your clit.

"yeah," you shrug with a breathy laugh, "but you're cute, so it's okay."

your playful banter is cut short as will leans down, kissing you. you sigh pleasantly as will's mouth holds yours, lips sliding and moving in a sexy, panty dropping pace.

his fingers dip underneath the hem of your leggings—teasing you. you whine into his mouth, pushing higher up on your toes in an attempt to deepen the kiss. wordlessly asking him for more. more kissing, more touching, more everything.

your hands loop around his warm neck while will’s free hand slides down the back of your thigh, hooking at the pit of your knee and affectively bringing your leg up around his hip. the new angle feels almost pornographic, opening you up so that his very obvious bulge can smoothly rubs against your clothed slit.

will takes ahold of your bottom lip between his teeth before he pulls back, both of you panting and wound up. he smirks all sexy with your lip in his mouth before releasing it with a gentle plop.

"I don't think I can continue our session today," he whispers suggestively, gently maneuvering your leg so it’s back onto solid ground. you want to pout at the loss of friction between your legs, but the way will’s fingers dip further down the back of your tights have you faltering.

so close to touching. so close to scandalous—but not quite there yet. not quite touching.

"oh no," you breathe heavily, "why's that?" you ask even though you know damn well why.

will grins—the shy will cuylle you thought you knew is completely gone. disintegrated. now replaced by this sexy, confident will who touches you teasingly and kisses like a porn star. he leans down, lips brushing over the shell of your ear, "my dick is so fucking hard." then he gently kisses your ear and you just about die.

"well maybe I can help you out."

he pulls back to look at you, smirk only growing when he sees the eagerness swimming around your eyes. "oh yeah?"

"yeah." you moan.

will curses again, which makes you grin. he shoots a cautious look over his broad shoulder, but like before, there's nobody else in the gym. it is a semi-private gym, one that will books for two hour sessions twice a week with you. that stemmed from the idea of getting caught with a erection by another gym member.

private lessons it was.

so nobody will be here, at least not for another little bit. he honestly has no idea how much time has passed since he arrived—his concept of time has turned to mush since you starting batting your lashes at him and confessed your purposeful flirting.

will looks back at you, "don't want you to suck my dick though."

"no?" you frown, pussy fluttering at the thought of will’s dick in your mouth.

"no. I wanna fuck you instead."

you jaw drops, and will just grins like a cocky sex god. he takes ahold of your hand, dragging you both towards the change room. the space is open and smells like cleaning supplies, but not even the antiseptic scent can stop the arousal pooling low in your belly.

will guides you into one of the private stalls—one that you'd most likely see at your local high school. a creaky plastic door with a matching seat pushed against one of the white walls. he turns the metal lock, the click echoing in the empty room—and then he's on you again.

this kiss is more intense—quicker and dirtier. your hands are all over one another. neither of you can stay still, it's physically impossible. months upon months of suffering and longing has boiled to the surface, and you move quickly in order to not get burned.

will’s lips trail down your jaw, nipping at your skin and then soothing the sting with his warm tongue. your lips part, breathless and desperate moans flowing from your mouth freely. you've gone limp in his arms, completely surrendering yourself to will.

not that he minds obviously. his grip on you is firm, but not painful as his mouth finds your neck. he sucks and licks at your pulse point until your withering, hips bucking in search of friction.

"you smell so fucking good." will mumbles into your neck before promptly finding your mouth again, continuing the needy kiss. his kiss, although new, feels almost familiar. he’s still there...the sweet will you fell for when he walked into your gym months ago—beneath the surface. that much is evident in the way he’s kissing you now.

you lick onto his bottom lip teasingly. his muscles tense under your palms, breathing increasing as your tongues begin moving together. will's hand comes down to your ass, gripping the flesh firmly and drawing you closer.

"I need to feel you," you say against his spit slick lips.

"I know baby." the nickname turns your legs to jelly, and like he knew you were on the brink of buckling to the ground, will grabs your hips firmly, pushing you further back against the wall—holding you up between his hard chest and the cold plastic behind you.

will helps you strip off your bubblegum coloured tights, and he can only groan at the sight before him. because underneath your irresistible tights, you're completely bare. no underwear in sight, only your pretty pussy, glistening and dripping for him.

"where are your panties?" he questions you lowly, tongue licking up a tendon in your neck slowly, while he simultaneously slips his hand under your sports bra in favour of groping at your tit and pulling your nipple.

everything feels so heightening and overwhelming in the best way. you shudder, "didn't want want underwear lines."

will tuts his tongue against your skin, biting down on you briefly and making your breath hitch. "I think you just wanted me to fuck you. think you've been waiting so patiently. hoping i'd pull your pretty tights down and slide my cock into your sweet little pussy."

his dirty words almost make you choke on your own spit. you had no idea will was capable of such filthy words—it has your belly twisting and turning in anticipation, while your walls contract desperately. will's lips find your jaw again, and then the corner of your mouth. not quite kissing you but just dragging his lips along your skin. marking you.

"I thought you were shy." you say pathetically, hips withering and jolting as will's fingers dip down your belly. he's so close to where you want him. so close.

"that's before I knew you were so naughty," his thumb and forefinger spread your lips, opening up your glistening walls further. the cool air shocks your warmth, and your skin pebbles all over. just when you think you can’t get any more shocked, will’s fingers slide over your clit, teasing you.

his eyes bore into yours, "are you a naughty girl, y/n?"

"no," you whine. he slides down, the pads of his fingers prodding around your slippery entrance. a whispered plea leaves your lips. you're so ready and so beyond desperate for him—it feels impossible to breathe.

it makes will coo condescendingly—the struggle and desperation written all over your flustered face. "what are you then?"

you're practically pouting. "i'm a good girl."

"yeah?"

"mhm hmph."

his gaze turns pointed. will takes his hand away from your heat, making your frown deepen. the hand he previously had under your sports bra, teasing your diamond cutting hard peak, comes up and grips your chin, keeping your eyes on him—unwilling you to look away or tilt your head back.

will leans in, but he doesn't kiss you. "then be a good girl and turn around."

you don't need to be asked twice, turning on shaky legs. behind you, will quickly pulls his shirt off, adding it to the growing pile of discarded clothes on the tiled floor below you.

you're breathing frantically, pushing your hips back in search of him. will smiles at the sight, chest heaving as he pulls his aching cock out of his athletic shorts, freeing himself from the restraint. his cock is angry shade of rose, smacking against his pelvis with a thick slapping sound. will grips his length, pumping himself lazily, slicking himself with your sticky arousal coating his fingers.

the lewd sound has you moaning, casting a suggestive look over your shoulder. when you catch sight of his strong chest, flushed and sweaty, along with his throbbing cock and leaking tip....you're pretty sure you feel your pussy leak and drip onto the floor. which in hindsight should be embarrassing, but you’re too flustered to care. and fuck if will cares—if anything the sight has his dick twitching.

will grabs ahold of your ass, squeezing and lifting to spread you—opening up your already weeping entrance. "fuck baby, spread your legs wider for me," he slaps your ass gratefully when you listen, wobbly legs sliding open another inch or so—giving him more room, while will begins lining up his head with your hole. "a little wider—that's a good girl."

"will please, I-" you choke on your words as the fat tip of will's cock nudges at your opening. his length slips in slowly, teasing you until the last possible second.

you could cry.

"what were you saying, baby? will please..."

your walls clench around his sheathed cock like you can't decide if you want him to start moving or keep still. either way you think it's overwhelming. you feel so full of will’s cock that it feels impossible. impossible to breathe, to think, to speak.

thankfully, he's not actually looking for a reply. he's too fucking horny to wait any longer. will begins thrusting, shallow at first as if he's testing the limit—yours and his.

you're a moaning and sobbing mess, pressed against the stall wall pathetically—lips parted and wet as his cock slowly rocks into your entrance. "please."

your plea is all it takes for will to speed up. very quickly his thrusts become rhythmical, hips slapping against your ass feverishly. you cry loudly, frantically reaching for him—fingers locking around his wrist where he’s holding on to your hip.

your pussy is greedy, sucking and holding onto his length like it's never had anything better. and if you were to ask yourself—you haven't had anything better. will fucks you like he kisses you—sure and sexy and with little bit of sweetness. it's exactly what you've been craving. it's so fucking good.

"god," he curses lowly, "i'm not gunna last long inside your pretty pussy baby. so fucking tight and perfect."

like clockwork your walls flutter around him, which only urges him to fuck your harder. "keep going," you plead.

he had no intention of stopping. not now, not ever. you're better than he could've ever imagined. will's arm wrap around your middle, promptly pulling you off the wall and back to his chest—all while his cock continues attacking your pulsating, gummy walls.

your head falls back to his shoulder weakly, and it gives will the best view of your bouncing tits that have fallen up and out of your sports bra from the momentum of his thrusts—pebbled nipples and all. his slit begins leaking fluids just at the sight.

your glossed over eyes meet his, your lips parted helplessly as his hips rut into you. will leans down without even realizing what he's doing, kissing you once again. its barley a kiss—if anything it's more of brushing tongues and muffled moans. lips barley kissing over one another’s.

but it's enough to have you clenching around him. "i'm cumming, will." you whine, eyes rolling as the coil in your stomach ignites. your hand darts up, gripping tightly at the roots of his dirty blonde hair while your orgasm hits you at full force. the sob you let out sounds like fucking heaven, walls fluttering as your body goes limp.

will shudders, keeping you against his chest as his own release catches up to him. his thrusts turn rougher, pelvis smacking against your ass loudly while the head of his cock punches your overstimulated cervix. 

"oh fuck," he moans, balls jumping as spurts of hot cum shoot from his cock, painting your sensitive walls. will rides out his orgasm with shallow and slow thrusts, making a mess of your fluids—smearing the combination over his pelvis and your inner thighs.

you whine, which makes will blink. his grip around your body loosens, but not enough to let you fall. which thank god, because you're not sure if you can stand right now. "you okay?" he asks you softly, breath hitting the side of your face as he studies you for a reaction.

"a little tired and fucked out," you trail off, and even though you literally look spent—mascara under your eyes and lips stained—there's a hint of amusement in your tone. "but i'm okay."

will smiles, kissing your cheek tenderly before sliding his dick out of your entrance. the squelching noise that comes with that action almost makes you want to go for another round, but your legs protest that idea as they start to shake.

"just stay still for a minute baby," he mumbles, grabbing his discarded shirt, "gunna clean you up." ever so softly, will begins wiping up the mess between your legs. he works with such softness and ease that you can't help but smile, leaning back against the stall wall for some much needed stability.

will kisses your inner thigh before helping you back into your tights—which, might as well get married now because you're ruined for every other man.

when he stands up to his full height, you can't help but touch his bare chest, not so subtly feeling him up. "what are you going to wear?" you're referring to his shirt, which is now covered in your mixed juices.

will shrugs casually, hands gripping at the fleshiest parts of your hips to squeeze reassuringly. "eh, not worried."

you quirk a brow, "maybe I don't want people looking at you all....sweaty and muscley."

"you jealous?" will teases, leaning down and letting his lips brush over your cheek. it tickles, but you welcome it, leaning into his mouth in search of a kiss.

"maybe...."

he laughs and then presses a lingering kiss to your lips, "don't worry baby, i'm yours."

[ellierium]

☣︎ ₊˚.⋆ 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐦!𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⋆⁺₊

cw: nsfw and sfw themes ahead. mdni. cannibalism as a metaphor for love and sex (not really a metaphor). mentions of violence, blood, slight gore. mentions of pussy eating, face riding, bondage, venom as a sex toy.

a/n: yeaaahhhhh so im just combining my old hyper fixations together atp. thank you for reading!

𝐬𝐟𝐰:

✮ having a symbiote is not for the weak. since she's a host, she gets the wonderful gift of host communication. having a telepathic link with venom — affectionately known as "v" — means there's another voice in her head that isn't her own. he's very loud, very obnoxious, but fucking funny. you laugh at his outburst almost as much as she cringes at them.

✮ her "accident" and the whole reason she and venom are attached left her with a lot of scars. she has various scars from when she first started learning how to work with venom, before they were able to get a hang of the regenerative healing. in all honesty, she doesn't want them all gone. especially not the giant scar in her abdomen from being impaled, which made venom keep her alive. the story is not necessarily unknown to you but there are details abby refuses to share. and although v likes to give her a hard time, he slithers out of sight if you turn his attention to him during a conversation like that.

✮ she and venom absolutely love indie horror games and platform games. she tends to stream her playing them with venom. she's got a few hundred thousand followers on twitch just because her and venom’s reactions are hilarious. he likes saying hello to everyone in a very obnoxious way, but absolutely goes nuts when they see you in the chat. v and abby are connected, at the end of the day, and share that excitement for you. and obsession, of course.

✮ besides being unserious on social media, she works as a journalist for the daily globe, a newspaper in the heart of new york city. they tend to cover a lot of drama about spider-woman and her fights of the week. anderson is known for providing ratings regarding the fights.

✮ she's really awkward. venom is not a romancer of any sort but he does get obsessed. it leads to him having very interesting impulses. and abby's equally obsessed but is the only sane mind here. so she's gotta keep it under wraps when she sees you.

✮ she rides a motorcycle. beautiful thing that her dad left her, and she's always picking you up for dates on that thing. she'd been kind enough to already have an extra helmet for you. not that you'd need it seeing as venom had taken a liking to you and wouldn't allow you to get hurt in any way, but still. it was a nice sentiment.

✮ she and venom are very protective of you. it's interesting being with them seeing as its a her-him-them scenario. two of them, but its still abby overall. abby the host, abby the one with the last say, and venom who obeys.

✮ venom offers the ultimate of scary dog privileges. he'll snatch poor pigeons out of the sky at any frustration. and seeing how venom tends to be a reflection of abby's thoughts and feelings, its worth noting how embarrassed she gets when he expresses her frustration, disapproval, and worst of all, annoyance. anyone flirting with you in front of her never fails to make venom snap his jaws when they turn their backs. its a very common occurrence that abby has to keep him from biting people's heads off.

✮ they love chocolate. chocolate is the only thing that keeps venom satiated between actual meals — which are few and far in between considering the ethical dilemmas that come about. its not polite to eat people. but there are moments!

✮ if you give the okay, venom likes to attach himself to you, too. a brief hug is what its like, but he's cold, sticky, then gets warm as he adjusts to your body temperature. abby thinks its sweet, and as much as it weirded you out at first, you got used to venom on your shoulders. it doesn't go on for too long, just enough for you to know what it feels like for abby. she thinks its sweet that you care so much about it.

𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰:

✮ both abby and venom love when abby uses their... abilities... to form a strap. abby can feel the way your cunt tightens around her and it drives her insane. no need to buy any!

✮ venom tends to always blurt out whatever sexual thought abby thinks about for too long, so she tries very hard not to think about you. of course she fails, and of course venom blurts it out anyway. happens mostly when you're wearing something with easy access.

✮ being loved by abby means being loved by a monster of sorts, and that means teeth, blood, scars. evidence of love left behind on your body — bites on your neck, nail marks on your back and thighs. abby unable to fully control herself, venom, and its claws, too, that she can't help but scratch you with. careful not to hurt you too bad, but venom would be there to heal you in the worst case scenario.

✮ gets so pussy drunk, it’s insane. laps at you for hours, begs for a little more each time. rubs her clit with one hand, fingers you with the other, tongue and lips never leaving your pussy and she’ll keep going just like that. could cum over and over again just from that.

✮ likes her hair being pulled, especially if its in a braid. only has her hair loose if it’s the end of the day. guide her by her hair, use it like a damn leash, she doesn’t care. will shake and moan from that alone.

✮ will grind against anything to get her off. your thigh, your hand, your pussy, your mouth — doesn't matter. get her desperate enough and she will!

✮ loves tying you up and who needs rope when you have venom? black sticky tendrils wrapped around your arms and legs, prying you open and abby controlling it all. makes sure to sit still or her grip will tighten!

✮ bites like hell. claws and scratches like hell. constantly holding herself back so she doesn't hurt anyone but she's needy. and if venom wants to eat you, parts of you, the whole of you — would you let them? abby and venom hungry for you only. begging for you only.

✮ sensory play will kill her. in a good way. enhanced hearing and vision now with venom so it definitely throws them off (in a good way!). take one or both away and she'll feel soooo good when you touch her. everything dialed to a hundred. goosebumps on her skin and your name on her lips.

✮ absolutely adores dirty talk. wants to hear any and everything you think about with her-them involved. loves knowing things. wants to think about it for the next few days since the marks will heal soon.

[peacheeeliz]

016. she don't want you (wc: 770)

“It's so nice to finally meet the girl who's been clouding our Jisungie’s mind lately,” Jeno teases, pinching at the youngest boy's cheek. “We were all so sad we missed you last time.”

Jisung pulls away from Jeno, swatting his hand away. “Jeno, I'm a grown man,” he whines, avoiding eye contact with you as you sit down next to him.

“You're a grown man, but get tense whenever Y/N sits next to you,” Chenle comments, chuckling. “It's nice to see you again, Y/Nie.”

“You too, Lele,” you respond, smiling sweetly at the group. Your eyes fall on the only other familiar face, and your smile falls. “What are you doing here?”

“Jeez, you'd think you'd be kinder to your cousin,” Donghyuck replies, rolling his eyes. “I don't know why these dorks wanted to meet you so bad, I told them you were insane.”

“They're friends with you, I don't see how that's any different,” you joke, sticking your tongue out at him. “And they seem to love me already, especially Sungie,” you continue, knocking your shoulder into his.

“You're gonna give the guy a heart attack,” Jaemin teases, watching the way Jisung's face turns bright red at your words. “You're too cute, Sungie. How can we not baby you?”

Jisung just sighs in response, shyly looking over at you. “You were fine being all cuddly and flirty last night,” you whisper to him, letting out a small laugh. “Don't want to show that side to your friends or something?”

He returns the favor, knocking his shoulder into yours, and you can only smile back softly. You go to speak to the rest of the group again, but another voice cuts into the conversation:

“There you are, pretty,” the voice says, and your shoulders tense up. The empty chair beside you squeaks against the floor as they pull it out from the table, taking a seat next to you.”I knew you'd be on break around this time.”

“We didn't invite you to sit with us,” Donghyuck starts, glaring at the new person. “Sion.”

Sion smiles softly, throwing his arm around your shoulder, only for you to throw it right back off. “Oh, come on, I just want to visit my sweet barista.”

“Not yours, jackass,” you tell him, scooting your chair closer to Jisung. The man subtly pulls it even closer, wanting you as far away from Sion as you can get. “Just go, Sion. Order your drink and leave, please.”

“Baby,” Sion starts, running his hand along the edge of the table, closing in on your own. You pull back your hand instantly. “I just want to talk to you again. Our small chat yesterday just wasn't enough.”

“She doesn't want to talk to you, man,” Jeno fixes his posture, trying to make himself look bigger to scare the younger man off. “And like my friend here said, we didn't invite you to sit with us.”

“This doesn't concern you,” Sion responds nonchalantly, eyes never leaving you. “Come on, let's go outside.”

“She's not interested,” Jisung says, staring daggers into the other man's skull. “How many times does she need to tell you for you to finally get it?”

Sion scoffs, finally looking away from you and staring directly into Jisung's eyes with a cold look. “Excuse me?”

“You fucking heard me, asshole,” Jisung replies. The rest of the group stare at their friend with wide eyes, in utter shock by the hostile words that leave his mouth. “What? You want to date her again because you've lost all control? She's actually dressing how she likes and you don't fuck with that? Or is it the fact that she's moved on to me?” He continues, and the fact that he can't almost see the steam rolling out of Sion's ears makes him smile. “Does that get under your skin?”

Your head slowly turns toward Jisung, jaw dropping at his sudden hostility. “Sungie,” you whisper, pulling at his sleeve.

Sion can't help but laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Yeah, I wasn't talking to you,” he says, a fake smile playing at his lips.

“Yeah, I don't care,” Jisung mocks, scrunching his nose up at Sion. “She don't want you, man. Learn to take no for an answer.”

“Learn not to speak when I'm not speaking to you,” Sion replies. His jaw tenses up, and he runs his hand through his hair, while his other hand tries to find yours again. “She knows she can't be away from me for long.”

Jisung's fist clenches in his lap, and he just can't hold his anger back any longer.

synopsis ⤏ could there be anything that could make your shift at the local coffee shop better? there is! and it's the hottest emo boy you'll ever find.

a/n: i love making nct members fight in my smaus for some reason 😭😭

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[rafescherie]

✮⋆˙ lewd picture sharing with stepbro!rafe at the dinner table

warnings — 18+. MDNI. lewd image sharing, stepcest, sexual content (not smut).

cherie's note — promise im writing more for stepbro!rafe, just wanted to get something out for you guys first. ˙ᵕ˙

the dining table hummed with quiet chatter, the soft clink of silverware against porcelain, and the scent of the meal your mother had spent the day preparing lingering in the air. you stare down at your plate, pushing food around aimlessly, the conversation swirling around you but not quite reaching your focus.

your phone vibrates, the slight buzz sending a jolt through your chest. it was barely a sound, but it felt like it thundered in your ears. you glance down, the phone face down on the fabric covering of the table, its screen hidden from view. but you knew exactly who it was.

rafe.

for a moment, you stare at it, your heart beating faster, the urge to pick it up almost unbearable. the phone lay there, unmoving, daring you to reach for it. your hand itched, like a magnet drawing you in, but you couldn't. not with him sitting right across the table from you. not with everyone around.

rafe's presence felt heavy in the air, even though he was looking anywhere but at you. his usual cool exterior was up, but the tension between you felt thicker than ever. the unspoken rules of being step-siblings, the strange line neither of you dared to cross, was becoming suffocating.

but the phone vibrated again, a reminder of the text just received, and this time, the heat in your chest surged, the need to know what he had said gnawing at you. you could feel the pull, like gravity, a weight pressing on your fingertips.

your eyes flickered back to him, but his gaze remained distant, his expression unreadable. you shifted uncomfortably, your fingers twitching in anticipation. you could almost feel the burn of the screen against your skin, even though you hadn't touched it yet.

you told yourself to wait. it was rude to check your phone at the dinner table, especially with the amount of energy surging through the dining room tonight. you had tried — really, you did. but the dinner seemed hardly near the finish line, and you couldn't take it anymore.

the screen flashes your direction as you yank it under the table, turning the ringer off to silence your cellphone. on the notification screen, practically in bold letters, his text stares back at you,

r cameron: one attachment

your fingers work with haste against the smart screen, unlocking your phone and giving you access to all of your apps. you slide on the notification.

and you, being so trusting of your stepbrother, and so irresponsible to the fact the thumbnail was complete blackness, your thumb pressed play on the clip.

you swallow hard.

the video is lewd — one hand wrapped snuggly around the base of the thickest cock you had ever seen, with that stupid, familiar golden ring on. the clip is only a few seconds long, but it doesn't slow up on the graphic themes by a mile, curious eyes watching as his abdomen becomes coated in his milky white sperm.

you slam the phone back down on the table, garnering the attention of your family. clearing your throat and muttering a soft 'sorry', they return back to conversation.

what the fuck.

your cheeks flush, heat creeping up your neck and making your whole face burn. you can feel it, that rush of embarrassment, and it's only getting worse with every passing second. it was becoming excruciating — the feeling of being in the spotlight, despite the fact it was only your family.

your eyes flicker to him, your stepbrother, sitting at the other end of the dinner table. that damn smirk plastered on his face, the kind he always wears when he knows he has the upper hand — he knows just how to get under your skin. it's maddening, the way he makes it look so effortless, like neither of you had been subject to his reckless choices — but the world had frozen for you, zeroing in on him. he's enjoying every bit of your discomfort, and you can't do a single thing about it. you can't help shake the feeling that he's testing you. taunting you. he looks practically untouchable in this moment.

it's wrong. so wrong. just a few months ago, your mom had married his father, and you were forced to adjust to the new reality of this blended family. the awkward dinners, the forced small talk, the unspoken tension betwen you two was always there but never acknowledged until now. everything still feels new — disorienting, and completely out of place. the newest additions to the 'cameron' household.

it was gross. revolting, even.

your fingers reach for your phone before you can stop yourself. it's like a reflex at this point, the need to escape even for just a second. you don't have time to think twice as your thumbs start typing. your hands tremble when you send a reply, hoping to regain control over the situation.

you're so lucky i turned my audio off before i played that.

you try not to look up, but it's impossible when you can feel his eyes on you, heavy and expectant. when you finally glance up, he's still swearing that smug, self-satisfied look, like he's won already, and maybe, in this moment, he has.

r cameron: you like it?

his words feel like a punch to the stomach. boy, that was an understatement.

if things were different, if this wasn't happening right now, maybe you'd actually want to see that video again. maybe you'd even laugh at the chaos of it all. but in this moment. surrounded by your mom's latest attempt at family harmony, pretending everything was normal and as it should be, you feel like you're about to crack.

two could play that game.

finally, your eyes catch on it—the picture. a flash of skin, the soft curve of your body. it’s nothing too obvious, but suggestive enough. you hesitate for a second, stomach twisting. you shouldn't, you know that. but your finger hovers over the screen, the heat in your chest only growing.

and then, without letting yourself think too hard, you hit send.

almost immediately, the soft buzz of his phone against the table makes your pulse quicken. your gaze darts up, heart pounding beneath your ribcage. rafe's fingers curl around the device, his expression unreadable as he unlocks it.

he barely glances at the screen before his jaw tightens. for a moment, it seems like he might say something. but he doesn't.

instead, he pushes himself out of the chair in one swift motion, the creak of the leather barely registering in your ears. his shoulders are stiff, movements tense as he strides past you without a word. the bathroom door shuts a moment later, the lock clicking into place.

you swallow, the air suddenly feeling far too heavy. your phone sits face down on your lap now, the regret creeping in with every passing second.

what had you just done?

[bucktommyyendgame]

"Is that my shirt?" for your bucktommy fluff prompts, please 🥺

Yay! On it!

When Tommy walks through the door, he hears Evan before he sees him, the hacking cough sounds just as painful now as it did when he'd left this morning.

He toes off his shoes and sets the small bag of cold meds, to make sure he's stocked up, on the dining room table before making his way into the living room.

Evan's curled up on their spacious couch that Tommy likes to joke Evan loves more than Tommy himself, one leg hanging half out of his blanket nest as though his body couldn't decide whether it wanted to be hot or cold. Tommy finds himself wincing again. He knows how miserable that is.

His curls are damp and Tommy's pretty sure that it looks like he managed a hot shower, a suggestion Tommy had texted him a couple of hours ago when Evan said the congestion was getting unbearable again.

Tommy crouches down on the floor by the couch, sifts his fingers through his hair. "Hey," he whispers softly and Evan's eyes drift open. He looks half out of it, of course, but Tommy spots the way they light up when he sees him.

"Hi," Evan croaks.

"Baby, wouldn't you be more comfortable in bed?"

"Mm," Evan says as he sits up. Tommy grabs his arms to help him, moving the blankets out of the way so he doesn't get tangled and Evan sags against him. Tommy catches him easily as he buries his face against Tommy's throat. "Probably. But I wanted to wait for you."

"Sweetheart," Tommy says softly, kissing the top of his head. "Have you eaten?"

"Bobby brought me some soup a while ago. Had that."

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

"Okay," Tommy says, wrapping his arms around him and standing, pulling him up too. "Come on, let's go to bed."

"'Kay," Evan says and he backs away from Tommy so he can grab the remote to turn the TV off and that's when Tommy sees it.

"Is that my shirt?" Tommy asks fondly, because he knows it is. Evan steals his clothes a lot, especially when he's feeling sick or just down.

Evan shrugs, unrepentant, like Tommy knew he would be. "Missed my husband."

Tommy loves him so much. "I missed you too, my sick brat."

"Not a brat," Evan mutters, letting Tommy lead him into their bedroom.

"You are," Tommy promises as he guides him into bed. "But you're my brat."

"Yours," Evan murmurs, already back to sleep.

Tommy kisses his forehead. "Yep, mine."

[kuurechr]

Satoru barged into your dorm, no warning ahead of time, so he was surprised to see Shoko on your bed, slathering a face mask on you, as Nanami sat with his back against the bed, on the floor reading as his face mask was drying on his face.

"You guys are having a fun night without me?!" Satoru exclaimed, feigning pain as he held onto his heart. "I thought you were my best friends?"

"Who told you that?" Nanami grumbled, before looking over at you. "Where's Ijichi? He's late, is he on a mission?"

"Ijichi isn't going on missions anymore, I told him not to," Satoru said, sliding next to Nanami, looking over his shoulder to see what he was reading.

Nanami shut his book. "Why would you do that?"

"What're you reading, porn?" Satoru said with a scowl, as Nanami put his book away.

"Answer the question Satoru," you chided, reaching over to your dresser to take out a sheet mask for Shoko.

"He'd die out on missions. He's better off as an assistant."

"Why would you do that to him?" Shoko asked. "He'd already barely gone out on missions last year."

"Duh," Satoru mocked. "Because he'd die if he went out on a mission for a curse higher than a fourth grade. You guys know I'm right."

You huffed. "Yeah, that's probably what's best for him, but you probably didn't put it very nicely."

Satoru shrugged, evading the accusation. "He's probably stuck doing paperwork. Which means there's room for one more today!"

"There's room for you any day," you reminded him. "However, you're rarely here. And I thought you were dealing with a special grade today."

"It was a first grade," Satoru huffed. "But it was in the North Pole, so that slowed me down a bit. It's really cold there, you know?"

"Sometimes I forget you didn't get elementary level schooling," Nanami deadpanned.

"And yet somehow he's about to be a parent," Shoko commented. "How's the adoption process going?"

"Yaga's dealing with most of it," Satoru answered, leaning his head back. "I don't even know if I'll have time to properly take care of them. They're like 6 and 7? They can function pretty well on their own by then, right?"

Everyone in the room instantly glared at Satoru, and he put his hands up in defence. "Okay, okay, I know, I was kidding. You guys think so little of me. But seriously you all better be good at babysitting, especially at random hours."

"Well, you're doing a good thing," you reassured him. "So of course, everyone's open to help." Satoru thanked you, genuinely sincere before quickly switching up and teasing Nanami for what he was reading. As the two argued, Shoko closed her eyes, falling back on your bed, and it made you think.

"Hey guys?" Shoko opened her eyes, looking over at you. The boys both turned their heads to look at you, clearly pondering something. "What are you planning on doing? After you graduate. And for a while after that?"

"What's bringing that question on?" Shoko asked.

"I mean, I don't know. Obviously the adopting part is going to be a big part of it. But what are we going to do?"

"I mean, there's not many options for a jujutsu sorcerer," Satoru reasoned. "I'll just keep going on missions as I'm assigned to them. That should keep me busy till I'm old. Shoko, you're a bit different right? You're too useful to leave as an assistant but your cursed technique doesn't really put you in a fighting stance."

"Yeah you're right," Shoko agreed. "Yaga talked to me about it back when I first got scouted, actually. I'll become a school doctor. I want to get my license first though. Y/N, you're continuing taking missions?"

"Yeah, of course," you answered. "Nanami, you too?"

"I don't know," Nanami scratched the back of his head. "Sometimes I feel like I'm going to quit. This sorcery shit is exhausting. And I've only been at it for three years. How did the two of you survive for this long?"

"Well I wasn't fighting curses at age 3."

"I was." You all glared at Satoru again. "What?! I'm Gojou Satoru! Of course I was kicking curses asses!"

"Alright well, back to the kids," you said. "You've met them, right? I'm sure they're gonna be hard to get along with at first; they've been through a lot, right? God, where were they even living before? What's wrong with Toji, how could he just completely ditch them?!"

Satoru placed a hand on your calf. "Alright, don't freak out. They live in this really crappy apartment. Apparently, they left them enough money for that. But the older girl did all the chores, and helped Megumi with it. Megumi collected water from places he'd found clean water, apparently, because they couldn't pay their water bill. And the lights don't work, so I'm guessing it will freeze or burn depending on the weather. We got them out of there immediately though. They're staying with Yaga right now."

"Why can't Yaga continue to do that?" Nanami asked. "Why does it have to be you who takes them in?"

"It doesn't have to be me," Satoru answered. "It's my choice. They're with us because it was my decision. So it should be my responsibility to make sure they're okay."

Nanami nodded. Shoko chuckled. "I'm surprised Satoru. You're sounding like a good person."

"I'm going to rip that mask off your face."

"Now that sounds like Sato-! No, wait, I have five more minutes!"

[cakypa120]

When Hal became the Spectre, he ran into one problem. Namely, the Champion of Magic. Or to be more precise, the fucking Champion of Magic was Captain Marvel!

And it turns out that Captain Marvel was a homeless twelve-year-old kid.

Hal:....

Billy:...

Hal:...

Billy:...Can I explain this?

Hal also had to deal with a bunch of unruly mages who wouldn't listen to anyone. Except Captain Marvel. Hal had seen mages hide behind Marvel dozens of times. Even under his cape! Isn't that what kids do? Hal knew most mages were traumatized, but not enough to consider a twelve year old boy a parent?

Hal: They know?

Billy: *sweats*

The mages were always breaking some rule. Not very important, but rules. And Hal had to punish them. And then he finds out what a protective twelve-year-old with the powers of the Gods can be.

Hal: Marvel, their spells hurt people.

Marvel: I understand, but they fixed it. We even compensated those people! I will deprive them of their summoning abilities for a week.

Hal: A month.

Marvel: A week and a half.

Hal: Three weeks.

Marvel: Two weeks.

Hal: Two and a half.

Marvel: Good. But you will not send nightmares to them.

Hal: Good. Now get to it.

The kneeling mages only sigh in defeat and prepare for their punishment.

And there are many such cases. Sometimes the arguments about punishment lasted for hours, and somewhere only a few minutes. The magicians always clung to the edge of Marvel's cloak and looked guiltily at the ground, except for Constantine, that bastard looked angrily at Hal.

Marvel: Gods! John, what did I tell you about alcohol?!

Drunk John: Don't drink too much.

Marvel: And what did you do?

John: Drank too much.

Marvel: Go back to the House of Mystery, we'll talk when you're sober. You're being punished, young man.

Hal:*holds the guilty wizard and looks at this scene* Is it always like this?

Mage: Yes, John likes to drink, and Pa... I mean, the Champion doesn't like his habit. But you should have seen the fight between Marvel and Doctor Fate. Last time, a supernova was almost born.

Hal even felt a little sorry for Billy, who had to maintain the fragile balance between the world of magic and the ordinary world. And Hal knew very well how afraid everyone else was of magic. Even he hadn't been very fond of it before.

Hal: When was the last time you slept?

Billy: Three days ago. I have a new war on the horizon. I need to prepare for peace talks or my first battle.

Hal: Billy, you're twelve.

Billy: *smiles bitterly* A Champion has no age. He only has duties. But thank you for your concern.

If the next day the kings made a peace treaty, then Hal vehemently denies his involvement in it. Billy don't look at him like that. He just talked to them, honestly!

When Hal becomes human again, his view of Marvel changed forever. Now he constantly asked when Billy rested, or what he ate. Marvel grumbled, but answered, and Batman became more suspicious.

Batman: The captain's late again.

Hal: Don't worry, Spooky, he's just busy with family matters.

Batman: What?

Hal: Two demons are rampaging through Hell again, and Marvel is just up against them again.

Hal's knowledge of Marvel is driving Bruce crazy, and it's not just Bruce. The entire League is worried about it, too. Especially when Hal walks up to Marvel and pats him on the back and whispers something. That's what Superman heard.

Hal: Are you okay?

Marvel: I'm fine. I'm not a little guy.

Hal: Don't lie to me, I know who's behind that big man.

Marvel: I'll erase you from the plane of existence.

Hal: I know you won't do it.

Hal knew the identity of the Captain. But from where? And how did he know? Was it somehow connected to the time when they thought he was dead? Hal began to treat Marvel like a father. He even ruffled his hair, even though Marvel was much taller than Hal.

Hal didn't pay attention to the looks of his colleagues. He just wanted to give Billy at least a little parental love. Something the boy lost very early. Even if Billy is stubborn, Hal does not give in. He wants to give this brave child at least something normal.

[dollyfetti]

　𐔌　i'll be your angel ₊˚ ♡

summary: mina's had a long day and all she wants is to be with her angel!! is that too much to ask?? and why the hell are her friends so annoying all of a sudden??

#8 from my prompt list: "goodnight to my wife, fuck the rest of yall!" notes: mina ashido x reader, not proofread so hopefully its not ass, fluff > O <

word count: 1.3k

mina grunts, arms folded and lips pouted at the scene unfolding in front of her. she’s sprawled across her couch in the tiniest pair of pajamas known to man, not giving a single fuck that her house is full of her male friends. her head rests on your lap as your fingers lazily play with her hair, listening to whatever sero’s rambling about.

it's a bad day for her. for one, her period's coming. she had the worst cramps at work today and almost ditched to go into hibernation. another thing, the weather sucked! it was all cold and wet, yucky, brownish snow everywhere. and she even slipped in some slosh earlier, and her ass was all soaked! safe to say, she was in a sour mood.

she doesn't even really wanna hang out right now, she'd much rather rewatch her favorite movies with you and snuggle all night. she's only here because when she got back from work, you were already hanging out with them, and who was she to be rude to guests, especially her friends?

mina huffs, her cheek squished against your thigh. you stare down at her with a gentle smile. her crop top exposes her midriff and cute stomach, and you fight the urge to squish the flesh before nuzzling your face on it, right where you belong. her fingers trace circles on your thighs mindlessly.

denki's gaze darts to you and mina with a grin. "pda much?"

bakugou hums with folded arms as mina sticks her tongue out with a roll of her eyes. "we're not in public, so it doesn't count."

denki mutters a small, "oh yeah thats true.." before poking her side playfully. she puffs out her cheeks, swatting his hand away grumpily.

mina huffs and sits up, rubbing her temples in annoyance. "just had a really long day, kay?" she mutters, visibly tired.

bakugou stares down at his phone, and yknow, like an idiot, he nonchalantly hums, "that time of the month?"

oh...! it doesn't matter that he's right- she's pissed. and when did this room get so fucking cold? mina's hands move up to cover her arms and you coo silently, scooting closer to warm her up.

"dude," kiri starts, deadpanning to his friend, who shrugs blankly, going back to scrolling.

“hmph! goodnight to my wife, fuck the rest of yall!” she huffs, aggressively smooching your forehead before getting up and strutting away.

kiri winces as denki turns slowly for effect. “what’s got her panties in a twist?” he chuckles boyishly.

“what a brat,” katsuki rolls his eyes affectionately, taking a sip of his drink.

you scoff at them with a tiny grin. men. “i think she’s sleepy,”

"wife is crazy," sero grins, leaning back in his seat. "very charming, eh?" he looks at you with wiggling eyebrows.

"they've been married," ejirou rolls his eyes with a smile. "yknow mimi told me they used to play boyfriend and girlfriend when they were younger?"

denki wolf-whistles teasingly in your direction, where you sit shaking your head in mock annoyance. "would you have taken a third?" he jokes, licking his lips. bakugou groans, unamused.

"you shush!" you point your finger at denki as others raise their brows and laugh.

hanta swats the back of his head, grinning as denki rubs it with a whine.

"kay, m going home." katsuki grumbles, standing up with an old man stretch. "let's go, losers."

you smile at him, quietly thanking him. katsuki's always wondered why you don't know how to remove yourself from something "without sounding mean", as you had whined. but it doesn't really matter, cuz he knows.

denki and sero pout stupidly. "wha?? it's still so early.." denki says, looking up at an exasperated bakugou looming over him.

"i'll drag your ass out, don't fuckin test me."

...

"bye!" denki and sero wave simultaneously, rushing out the door. kirishima kisses your cheek in thanks, wishing you goodnight. you watch the boys leave with a tired sigh and small grin.

you head to your bedroom, your fuzzy sock clad feet padding against the floor. you smile widely at mina's curled up position on the bed, wrapped in multiple blankets cozily. "what took you so long?" she grumbles, and you can't avoid the loud giggle that escapes from you. her pinched brows falter, and a little smile peeks out her lips.

you approach the bed, happily climbing onto your girlfriend as she lifts her arm to let you inside her warm cocoon. her eyes glimmer with affection as you kiss her pouty lips.

"my day was ass," she whispers, staring into your fond eyes. her arms wrap around you, pulling you down onto her soft chest. you get comfy, laying on her toasty body.

you giggle with a tiny pout, cooing softly. you look up, pecking her face like a bird. she laughs lightly, holding your arms so you can keep kissing her. "thank you," she breathes, closing her eyes. the randomly chosen movie she turned on is tuned out, and she can only hear the sound of your steady breathing along with your squeaky smooches.

“i hate those guys,” mina huffs, and you can’t help but smile because you both know that is a big fat lie. “they piss me off. keep them out forever.” she scoffs, readjusting both of you so you could lay your head on her chest. the plush skin of the top of her breasts make a good pillow against your face, and you exhale dreamily.

your hands come up to her sides, gently massaging her. “at least tomorrow’s saturday, we can stay in and shut the rest of the world out,” you grin as mina’s head nods up and down.

“are you sleepy?” she asks, like every night before bed. you hum a “mm-mm” in disagreement, your legs tangling in hers as you scoot up closer.

she pauses for a second, and you look up to see if she’s fallen asleep. she hasn’t, her eyes peeking down at you in thought. the moment she’s been waiting for all day finally comes. she grabs the remote from above her head, changing the movie she had on to open spotify. you hum, your eyes darting to the bright tv in the dark room, smiling as tommy february6's voice fills the comforting quiet.

"cmere," mina hums, sitting up. she leans her back against the headboard of the bed, bringing you onto her lap. you smile gently, grabbing her bonnet from the side and handing it to her. she pulls it over her hair while you reach over to the nightstand and put on your nightly lip mask before offering her some.

your thighs lock around hers, her soft pink skin making your heart flutter. she swipes on the lip mask after adjusting her bonnet, hands coming up to hold your waist as you put it back on the nightstand.

"meow," she says in a silly tone. you giggle, booping her nose. mina tugs you closer to her, her warmth radiating onto your body. "you're my little silly," she grins, flashing her tooth gems. she leans in to peck your shoulder lightly to not smear the lip product.

you squeeze her tightly, digging your face into her neck. she smells like bubblegum and cherry lotion, the scent only wanting you to get even closer to her.

mina yawns before her lips fall into a small unintentional pout. you pull away from her to grab her face into your manicured hands. "you're tired," you note, blinking down at her sweetly.

"yeahh, but i haven't seen you all day," she whines with a shrug.

you grin gently, smooching her forehead. "have all day tomorrow to be together," you hum. "let's go to sleep, mkay?"

your girlfriend's pout grows a little deeper, but she nods nonetheless and gets comfy with you, bodies as close as possible. she closes her eyes, falling asleep to the music humming from the tv.

♡⃕﹒　i'll be your angel, i send my love for youuu

[bloggerspam]

It finally makes sense when Graduation hits them.

Or rather, the truth of it becomes unavoidable when he is finishing up his packing for college.

Jazz had come down from Harvard to help Danny pack his things for the University of Chicago.

Things were going well, Sam was going to take a gap year to volunteer at this non-profit in the Amazons, so she had come to help for the bulk of it.

Tucker was heading to sunny California for UC Berkeley, so Sam went over to help him out before they all convened for a final dinner.

Danny wasn't leaving for another couple days, but Tucker was taking Sam with him on the long drive, and whilst Danny could join them—well. Jazz was here, and he had barely seen her with how busy she was in college. Even with all the holidays and extra visits she tried to make, it was an adjustment period for all of them to not be in each other's pockets like before.

No doubt, it'll be hard to be apart from his friends and family. But there was always video calls, and what were ghost powers for if not to drop by every now and then on a whim? It's not like Sam and Tucker wouldn't be abusing their portal guns.

They'll adjust, and grow, just like before. If they survived Jazz's departure for college, they'll survive it again—they know better now.

It was hard, when she had just left, and emotionally taxing—especially when Danny had finally hit the breaking point and talked to his parents about his Death halfway through the second semester.

Jazz had come down that week and skipped school, it got so bad. But they made it through, and now…well.

With his parents in the know more than ever, and his impending Kingship upon death, ghost attacks just weren't an issue anymore. Danny had tried his best to pick himself up, and with his friends and family's support, along with Lancer's extra credit lessons, things had finally reached equilibrium.

Even his powers had settled down, more a part of him like—like breathing again.

Danny felt more settled in his skin than ever before, ready to tackle on adulthood and whatever may come after.

But of course, it's never that easy with Fenton Luck.

"Danny?" Jazz's voice calls out from above. Danny doesn't move from where he's slouched in his usual spot nudged up into the side of the Portal. "Danny, Mom said dinner's ready."

The jar of pebbles and marbles is in the cradle of his legs, sitting criss cross applesauce, the light catching and refracting as he spins it around and around.

"What's wrong?" Danny jolts, head whipping up like a kid with their hand caught in the cookie jar. Jazz is standing at the bottom of the stairs, hands on her hips with a perplexed expression on her face.

"Nothin' Jazz." Danny bites his lip, hunches his shoulders to fidget with a gaudy Netherlands magnet on the Portal side panel. "I was just…thinkin' is all. I'll be up in a minute."

As expected. Jazz doesn't believe him. Danny tries not to squirm when she walks towards him and sits herself down.

"Danny, come on." Jazz whispers, placing a hand on his knee. "What's really going on? You came down here to grab your jar an hour ago."

"I think I'm gonna leave the collection here after all." Danny makes his voice overly bright, feeling like he's 14 years old and not wanting to open Pandora's box. "Maybe, uh, take a magnet or two instead."

He places the jar in it's usual place, dislodging Jazz's hand carefully as he turns to pick out a magnet. He reaches out to grab one, falters, before bringing his hand back as if burned. He stands up instead, offering the hand to Jazz for assistance. "On second thought, I'll pick one later. Dinner's waiting!"

Jazz eyes him, gaze flicking between him and the jar and the stickers and magnets.

"Is it that you want to leave it here," she places a hand on the jar, Danny twitching with the movement, "or is it that you have to leave it here?"

Danny looks away, muttering softly, "Does it matter?"

His hand droops with the words, but before it can fully drop, Jazz's hand snatches at it. She squeezes until his eyes dart to her steely teal gaze, voice fierce and begging.

"Of course it matters, Danny. You matter. Your feelings, and—and your treasures too, all of it matters." She bites her lip, looks away. "If something happened to Bearbert, wouldn't you care?"

"Of course I'd care, He's—" Danny hurriedly kneels down. "You've had him since you were born!"

"And I've had you since you were born too." Jazz laughs, pulling Danny back down into his niche, neatly avoiding the jar. "Look. We both know this jar is important to you. Heck, ever since you started this collection it's like—"

Jazz bites her lip, not wanting to say it. They've both been avoiding saying it. Danny occupies himself by putting the jar back into the cradle of his legs, buying himself time.

The silence lingers, tension building in the ring of it, like a ghost hovering over them.

But, well. If Danny's got any experience, it's dealing with ghosts.

"Like I'm alive again?" Danny sighs, slumping back against the wall and thumping his head as he looks towards the ceiling. "I knew I wasn't the only one who noticed."

"When Clockwork gave you that coin…" Jazz scooches in next to him to put an arm around him. "It was hard not to."

"Funeral rites." Danny huffs a laugh, leaning his forehead onto her shoulder, neck craning as he takes in the comforting smell of his older sister. "You think Sam and Tuck knew?"

"They've been giving you those pebbles and marbles, haven't they?" Jazz runs her fingers through his hair, and he closes his eyes to concentrate on not floating away.

"You think Dani knows?" Danny flaps his hand towards the magnets. "You think Dani needs one?"

Jazz hums, thinking for a moment. "That's something you'll have to ask her, I think."

"And Mom and Dad?" Danny whispers, somehow afraid.

"They've had their suspicions." Jazz says, after a moment. "They've contributed some stickers, after all."

"I know." Danny mutters. "I can…feel it when they do. Explains the daisy stickers, at least."

"Better than real, wilting flowers I suppose." Jazz hums.

They sit like that for a long moment, finding comfort the way they always have since they were young.

"So." Jazz finally breaks the silence, resting her hand at the back of his neck. "You can't bring the jar."

"No, Jazz." Danny laughs, helplessly, and decides that enough is enough. "I can't bring my grave with me."

"Well, so what?" Jazz nudges Danny's face up, face stern as ever. "It's not like you'll never come back! And Mom and Dad can take care of it while you're gone."

"I guess you're right." Danny smiles, sitting back up and fiddling with contents of the jar. The feel of pebbles and marbles sifting through his fingers is comforting, and bolsters him. "Nobody walks around with their graves anyway."

"Dead men tell no tales." Jazz haughtily agrees. "Nor can they walk."

"Whoever said that," Danny grins, anxious and nervous and relieved, "Clearly have never spoken to ghosts."

"Hmm…True." Jazz makes a thoughtful face, before smirking slyly at him. "All the ghosts I know can never shut their big mouths up!"

"Hey now!" Danny argues, grabbing for Jazz to give her a noogie. But Jazz is too quick, ducking his hand and rolling up into a crouch.

"What?" Jazz laughs, loud and happy, "It's true!"

Danny gently places the jar down back in its place before he jerks himself up. "If anyone's a loud mouth it's you!"

They chase each other around like that in the lab, ducking and weaving before Mom calls for them asking why they're taking so long. They meet each other's eyes, before dissolving into laughter once more, jostling each other as they make their way towards the door.

Just before they head up, Danny looks back.

The Portal is off, and the jar—no, his grave glistens in the light of the machinery glowing around them. A bit of gold glints at the top of the pile inside, Clockwork's coin somehow always managing to dig itself out. Danny has long since given up on understanding the logistics of it. The pebbles and marbles reflect light the way they always do, in a rainbow of colors flecking against the metal interior of the lab.

The stickers and magnets, once barely visibly from this angle, have started to spill out to the front of the Portal, and onto the other sides. Lithuania, Glasgow, New York, China—cheery fonts on gaudy little magnets seem to smile in an abstract way. Stickers, gold stars and sale prices and flowers upon flowers, wink at him through the iridescent top sheen.

Overall, his grave looks nice. Colorful, scattered, clearly well loved by the people he loves. It'll be hard to leave, but it's easy to find comfort in the fact that it'll be here, waiting for him.

"Danny?" Jazz calls from the top of the staircase. "Come on!"

"Coming!" Danny calls back, one last glance and one big smile on his face, as he heads up to dinner with his family.

Building Graves like Homes

DP-only WIP based loosely off this dcxdp prompt where Danny unknowingly builds his own grave.

===

It starts with a sticker.

That's all it is, really. A stupid little sticker.

Jazz gives it to him as a joke. He did the dishes unprompted, so she gave him a gold star sticker—one of the ones she gives to the kids she tutors on Sundays and Thursdays.

It's just that the basement is comforting.

By all accounts it shouldn't be—it's cold, noisy, barren of any furniture beyond work tables and creepy weapons and mess.

By all accounts he should hate it here—his parents spend most of their time here so it's hard to find peace, his sister hates it, Sam and Tucker hate it, and Danny…well. Danny died here.

But the sticker.

There's a spot next to the portal, not quite under the jut of it, between where the side ends and where the filter sits on the wall. The hum of the portal and lab resonates just perfectly to be almost a lullaby, the edge of the portal's jutted out side providing a good little nestle spot for Danny to sit and lean against.

Danny likes to sit there, in the rare moments when his parents aren't in the lab, and just kind of…ruminate.

Today he ruminates on the sticker, the little glittery shine of it, and how funny it looks against the cold metal gray.

He sticks it on the side, where you can't really see it, and something sort of settles in him.

He stares and stares at it, feeling a little pinprick of warmth as he rubs against it with a finger, until his parents come home and he has to leave.

The warmth, however, decides to stay long after.

[sunsets12]

could you talk a bit more about the poem from the most recent chapter??

so beautiful!

I'm assuming this is Finnick's poem and not the song at the end of part 4 (if you are asking about the song at the end, honestly the genius page can probably explain it better than me)

Finnick's poem is an edited excerpt from Doll Parts by Hole. The lead singer of Hole was interested in Kurt Cobain and wrote this song about "her insecurity that someone as wonderful to her as him could be interested in her" (via Genius) , but I'll dissect it from Finnick's POV:

I am doll eyes, doll mouth, doll legs

I am doll arms, big veins, dog bait

These lines are about how he feels dehumanized by the Capitol, and how they use him as a doll essentially (both to play with and a sex doll). Big veins is a reference to heroin use, and while Finnick (in my fic) has never used heroin, it is a reference to how a lot of Victors turn to various substances to get through the day.

"Dog bait" again refers to the dehumanization of district citizens, and can be seen as an almost literal reference towards mutts in the arena or more metaphorical reference to how district citizens are thrown out and abused for whatever the Capitol needs.

Side note: "Dog bait," is actually "dog beg" in the original song, but it looks like Hole changed it to "dog bait" in their Peel Session. Idk, I've always heard the line as dog bait, and like that better, so I used that.

They really want you, they really do

They really want you, and I do too

And this is where we can see Percy come into play. Percy is an infamous Victor, both very attractive, unattainable, and a brutal and highly skilled fighter. Almost seeming inhuman in his capabilities. "They" in the first line refers to the Capitol, so by saying "and I do too," Finnick is almost equating himself to them in a derogatory way. We'll see this a bit more in the Finnick fic, but he has a LOT of self-esteem problems, especially when it comes to romantic relationships. He doesn't see himself as being worthy of Percy because of the abuse and exploitation he's suffered at the hands of the Capitol. He views Percy as too good for him.

I want to be the one with the most cake

Once again, this line hits at how he wants to love Percy and be with him, but he feels like he doesn't deserve it. It also eludes to "you can't have your cake and eat it too" so even though he's *technically* with Percy, they can't really be together openly because of the Capitol.

I love him so much, it just turns to rage

He loves Percy, and it's frustrating because they can't openly be together/he doesn't feel like he can fully give himself to Percy

I fake it so true I am beyond fake

Finnick is pretty much constantly wearing a mask (with minor exceptions when he's only around other Victors), so this goes back to him constantly feeling like he's not a real person/is a doll

Someday you will ache like I ache

He wants the Capitol to suffer. He wants retribution, even if he doesn't think it will actually happen

[unforced3rr0r]

THE DEAL || CA

————————————————————————

Pt. 3 (previous part)

summary: Carlos hated having a PR manager, especially one who was his age. Convincing her to leave was the best plan he'd ever had, but what happens when he realises he doesn't want her to go?

pairing: carlos alcaraz x fem!reader

warning: none.

a/n: Asking politely everyone ignores how long this took me to write, turns out I had actual uni work to do which is lame. Also, look at them not arguing the WHOLE time is there a civil colleague relationship forming?

MASTERLIST

You had been avoiding Alcaraz since the moment the two of you shared in the hallway after the press conference. Spending the rest of the afternoon hiding from his gaze and pushing him through interviews as fast as you possibly could.

Each time he brushed past you from one interview to the next, Your cheeks flushed with your mind drifting back to his body so close to yours.

Despite being invited to the team dinner that Juan Carlos had urged you to attend, you found yourself leaving the Rod Laver arena with no intention of detouring from your hotel bed which was firmly on your mind.

The halls were bustling with people, tennis players, physios and staff rushing from room to room. As you wandered aimlessly towards the exit of the building your eyes caught a bundle of red curls bounding towards you.

"Y/N" the Italian called your name and you spun round to face his towering figure. You'd met Jannik many times before while working in the world of Formula 1 and he had been one of the first to convince you to take the job with Alcaraz.

"Jan!" The tennis player wrapped his long arms around you lifting you into a familiar hug. The warmth from his body a comforting hug which saw the tension in your body immediately dissipate. "How's media day going?"

"You know how us players feel about all the interviews and content. We'd rather be on court." A smile beamed across the young Itlian's face and for once it felt nice to not be constantly on edge in this job. You laugh and let out an exasperated groan,

"Trust me, on behalf of all media and PR people - we also wished you'd be on court instead of annoying us." Jannik gave you a playful shove, his laugh bringing a smile to your face.

"I'll try not to take that personally, though I'm pretty sure it was aimed at him." Jannik nodded his head further down the hallway. Stood against the wall, with his eyes trained on you and the Italian was Carlos Alcaraz.

His arms were crossed over his chest and while you couldn't be sure if it was Jannik or you he was staring at it was clear he was trying out the whole 'if looks could kill' theory.

"Trust me, I'd much prefer to spend a media day with you than him." You turned back to Jannik trying to block out the presence of the Spaniard in the background.

"Trouble in paradise?" Jannik tilted his head looking down at you as you scoffed.

"If this was paradise I shudder to think what hell is like." You felt Alcaraz's gaze burning into the back of your head, certain he was now staring you down.

You didn't even know why he was still hanging around, you left him after your last interview and thought he'd gone off to meet the rest of his team.

Jannik laughed loudly, "He can't be that bad, it's Carlitos. I'm surprised he hasn't been flirting with you." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively but you couldn't help but laugh and roll your eyes.

Truth is, the Alcaraz that Jannik was explaining was what you'd expected when you'd started.

Warned about the Spaniard's bubbly personality many people who knew him would smile and say 'Watch out for the flirting'.

Instead, you'd met a different Alcaraz, one who constantly saw you as a waste of space on his team and far from flirting with you, you were met with constant coldness.

"Yeah that's not a problem." You sighed deeply. "You should go, I don't want to be the cause of another PR Manager's troubles." Jannik smiled, wrapping his arms around you and giving you a soft kiss on your cheek.

"If you need anything, or want me to slap some sense into Carlitos, just let me know." You grinned softly, pulling away from the Italian.

"I might take you up on that."

Jannik turned to make a move down the hallway in the direction of Alcaraz, who's attention had switched to his phone. He looked over his shoulder briefly and beamed, "Ci vediamo presto, tesoro" (See you soon, darling.)

Your heart warmed, smiling as you watched the lanky tennis player bound down the hall. He stopped when he reached Alcaraz, the usual warm greeting between the two seemed colder.

Alcaraz nodded dejectedly before his gaze fell back onto you. Uncomfortable under the harsh gaze you turned away and made your way back towards the doors of the arena.

...

You reached your hotel room and fell on the bed releasing a deep sigh. You stretched out your arms and rolled onto your side. The mattress caved under your weight and cradled your body.

Your phone buzzed and you reached lazily for your phone, fighting off the sleep and flipping your phone over.

Alcaraz: You coming to dinner?

You paused, then rolled your eyes.

Y/N: Don't worry, I won't be there to ruin your evening.

Three dots appeared, and then they disappeared. Your eyebrows furrowed softly. The three dots appeared a second time, remaining on the corner of your screen for a few seconds before they went once again.

You sat up slightly, the relaxed demeanour you had now shifting as tension flooded your body.

For a third time, three dots appeared. You watched them intently waiting as they slowly moved on the screen. But like each previous time, the dots disappeared.

You scoffed, shaking your head and moved off your bed. You left your phone resting on the bed as you made your way to the bathroom to shower.

The hot water pelting down on your body instantly soothed you. The knots from your shoulders disappearing with the stress of the day.

The argument with Alcaraz still weighed on your mind but you were determined to push through and get this tournament done with.

You were just so sick and tired of him constantly taking everything out on you. For once you wanted to be the one to frustrate him, and as you stepped out of the shower you smiled brightly, with a genius idea crossing your mind.

ATP was asking for a bunch of the players to do extra content ahead of the tournament - usually, you only signed Alcaraz up for one to reduce the amount of complaining you had to listen to.

But with an evil smirk on your face and a towel wrapped around you, you walked back into the bedroom. You immediately found your phone, opening your message to text the ATP's PR manager who you got on well with.

Y/N: Hi Amy, Alcaraz would love to do the extra content. Sign him up for as much as possible. Thank you!

As you clicked send you laughed quietly to yourself, you couldn't wait till he found out.

...

You were in comfortable clothes, makeup off, sat cross-legged on the sofa when you finally got a response from Amy sending over the schedule for the next day's media.

You forwarded the schedule to Alacaraz with the headline 'Surprise!' and closed your laptop.

Settling into the sofa you switched the TV on and called room service. The buzz of TV made your eyes heavy as you lay further into the sofa. Before you knew it you were drifting off to sleep.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Your head was cloudy as you were pulled from your slumber. The furious knocking woke you up violently. You sat up form the sofa, your stomach rumbling as you made your way to the door.

The knocking persisted, "I'm on my way!" you called out, opening the door with a smile.

But when you opened the door, instead of being met with room service, an angry Spaniard was staring at you.

"Alcaraz?" He brushed past you, stomping into your room. "Aren't you supposed to be at dinner?"

"¿Quieres decirme cuando acepté hacer medios todo el día mañana?" (Do you want to tell me when I agreed to do media all day tomorrow?) His glare went right through you as you closed the door and faced him.

You fought the smile that was trying to take over your face. "Look, I just thought it would be good for you to remind everyone how charming you are."

At the sight of Alcaraz's angry stare, you let out a laugh, shaking your head lightly as you moved back towards the sofa. As you passed the Spaniard, he grabbed your arm stopping you from going anywhere.

His chest was pressed against your back and he leaned down to you.

"Cancelarlo" (Cancel it) He towered over you and you turned to face his, you reached your hand up sliding across Alcaraz's chest. You watched as his gaze faltered at the action a glimpse of something indistinguishable passing through his eyes.

You slid you hand up his neck and to the side of his face. You watched him carefully, focusing on the way his breathing deepened. Then a devlish smile took over your face, tapping the side of his face and pushing him away.

"No." You walked to the sofa and sat down, leaving the Spaniard at loss watching you. "Oh and you can leave now."

He stood there for a moment while you set up a new film to watch. As the film blared through the hotel room, you turned your head to see if Alcaraz was still behind you. He watched the screen with a curious look on his face.

"What film is that?" his voice came from behind you, you laughed.

"Notting hill." The absent look on his face caused you to turn fully toward him leaning on the back of the sofa. "You've never seen Notting Hill?!"

He shook his head and looked down at his feet awkwardly. A silence fell across the room only broken by Hugh Grant's voice in the background.

Without thinking you started speaking "Um, you could stay...and watch it, if you wanted?" You regretted it as soon as you said it. The Spaniard looked at you, his brown eyes focusing on the gentle gaze you sent him.

"Um," For a second you thought he was going to join you. His shoulders fell and he look as though he was about to take a step forward when his phone buzzed, pulling it out of his pocket he glanced at it.

He took a step back and any softness in his eyes hardened. "Team dinner remember."

His sharp tone settled in the pit of your stomach as you stopped your disappointment from showing. He left without another word and the door slamming made you jump slightly.

You were about to turn back to the TV when there was a knock on the door. Hope bubbled in your chest and you rushed to open it, part of you waiting to be met with those brown eyes on the other side of the door. Instead, it was your room service.

They brought your food in and you thanked them, leaving you in the peace and quiet of your own company. You leaned your head against the back of the sofa and sighed.

You kept finding yourself unable to escape Alcaraz, not just in a work capacity. In the last few days you'd had his body pressed against you more times than you wanted to think about.

But today, that glimpse in his eyes at the suggestion of the movie. You couldn't help but think he wanted to join you. You laughed and shook your head, you couldn't believe he was getting to you. As far as you knew it was all part of his plan to make it easier to get rid of you.

You quietly watching your movie and ate your food when your phone buzzed. It was around the moment Hugh Grant walked through Notting Hill with the season changing around him that your phone buzzed.

Glancing at the screen you spotted it was a notification that Alcaraz had posted an Instagram story. You clicked on it, ready for another PR crisis when you were met with a picture of him and the team laughing at dinner.

Of course, you chose not to be there but the sight of them all smiling and laughing. It hurt. You couldn't help but think maybe you should've listened to Juanki and gone. This was going to be your final two weeks with the team and you were wasting them sat in your room.

You quietly made a promise to yourself in that moment that you'd enjoy the final weeks. Alcaraz had to put up with you as part of the deal and you intended to make the most of that.

...

You dreaded the day ahead. You knew Alcaraz was going to make everything more difficult than it had to be because you were forcing him into this busy day where you knew he wanted to be on the court.

You were ready waiting outside his hotel door. You also had a sandwich with you, getting ready to bribe the no-doubt grumpy player who would emerge from the room.

You shot him a quick 'I'm outside' text and waited patiently. After just a few minutes the door swung open and the tall Spaniard appeared in front of you.

"Morning, Alcaraz!" You shot him a smile and you were met by a slight grimace.

"How do you always have so much energy this early in this morning." You handed him the sandwich which he took with a curios look.

"I'm excited for a full day of media, and the sandwich is a peace offering." He looked down at the sandwich with a funny look on his face. He glanced up at you and quirked his eyebrow,

"A peace offering?" You beamed at him.

"It's going to be a long two weeks, I just suggest we aren't at each other's throats the whole time." His gaze softened ever so slightly but he still looked tentative. "Please, I just want to know what it is like to actually like my job."

He paused and watched you carefully. He took a bite out of the sandwich you had given him and he nodded.

"Fine. But I want more of these." He held up the sandwich with a smile and you shook your head.

"Perfect, let's go then." You made a move down the hallway with Alcaraz following closely behind as you settled into the elevator.

The journey to the stadium was quiet, a trip that was mostly filled with Alcaraz greeting fans, players and staff while you led him through the halls.

You arrived at the ATP's makeshift studio and spotted Amy in the crowd of staff. "Amy!" She turned and smiled at the sight of you and trying to pretend he was happy to be there Alcaraz.

"Y/N, Carlos, thank you both so much for this." The Spaniard shot her a coy smile as he carefully watched the different aspects of the studio, his gaze paused on the box of what looked like props sat by the edge of the set and he turned to look at you.

He sent you a look of pure fear his eyes widening and head lightly shaking that pulled a soft laugh from you.

"Alcaraz is happy to help, he loves all this stuff." The Spaniard pinched your arm and you muffled a yelp sending him a stern look.

"Perfect, you can grab yourself a coffee and there are snacks over there too - and Carlos if you come with us!" Alcaraz politely nodded and just before he began to follow Amy to set he let down and whispered.

"Te arrepentirás de esto." (You will regret this) You laughed and waved him off with a shit-eating grin.

"Have Fun!"

You knew that the next opportunity he got, Alcaraz would make you regret this but the sight of him with silly glasses on filming promo just seemed to make it worth it.

————————————————————————

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[rarepairdumpster]

Donor/Triad AU

Pairing: Jayce/Viktor, Jayce/Viktor/Silco Rating: M C/W: Modern AU, Trans Viktor, Threesome, Poly Relationship, Trans Pregnancy, BABIES

Jayce and Trans Viktor trying to have a child for years, before finally finding out that Jayce is shooting blanks (and that it isn't Viktor's fault as Viktor had immediately assumed because of his substandard health)

The two of them not being entirely comfortable with the idea of Viktor being impregnated by some random faceless syringe full of semen.

So the two of them go searching for someone to invite into Viktor's bed

Enter: Silco

Jayce watches the entire time Silco is in Viktor's bed. He tells himself he doesn't find it arousing, but the tent in his trousers says otherwise

Silco tells him it's okay to touch himself. Silco ends up becoming the dom for both of them

Jayce is always the good, obedient one and Viktor tends to be a brat but submits before Silco gets too upset.

Viktor's bratting is mostly snark.

And Silco actually loves it.

Just not when he's trying to fucking bone him.

Silco crooking his finger at Jayce when he has Viktor on his lap that first night -- because Jayce is gripping the arms of his chair hard enough to make the wood creak because Silco is balls deep in a moaning Viktor, using his knees to keep Viktor's legs spread. So Viktor's swollen pussy is on full display. And his inner thighs are shining.

Jayce ends up between Viktor's legs, face buried in his pussy, licking and sucking at his clit.

And Viktor has cum like twice already and he's so sensitive that he curses and grips Jayce's hair with one hand and Silco's with the other. Trapped between the two of them.

They fuck every night for three weeks in a row. Just to give Viktor the best chance of getting pregnant. When his test is positive, Viktor has a good cry in the bathroom because he's so overjoyed.

When they tell Silco the news, he fakes a smile but is ready to hear that they don't need him anymore.

He doesn't expect Viktor to grab his hand and pull it to his belly, saying "Just a few months until you'll be able to feel our baby."

Jayce rubs his neck. "We understand if you want to leave since the...ahem job is done so to speak, but Viktor and I would really think it would be beneficial for both the child an--"

"We want you to stay. Forever, preferably"

Silco's smile turns genuine then as he steps closer to them both.

Silco treats Viktor like a king the entire time.

He gets overwhelmed with all the doting from both Silco AND Jayce sometimes.

Jayce frets a lot more though, trying to stop him from lifting things, etc. Viktor goes feral when that happens.

Silco is of the "he's not helpless" mindset.

Silco the one who gives the back massages. Jayce does the feet.

The pregnancy is hard though, especially in the last trimester. Viktor is just so skinny.

That's when Silco worries.

It turns out he was carrying twins but one twin was basically hiding the other twin from the ultrasounds.

Silco being in the process of helping Viktor out of a hot bath when gush, his waters break.

Viktor stressing out because its too early and Jayce is away on a business trip

Silco using his Dom voice to try to keep Viktor breathing and relatively calm because stressing too much won't be good for him or the baby(ies). Silco driving him to the hospital and letting Viktor grip the fuck out of his thigh, uncaring of how bruised it'll get.

Once he parks the car, its one of the few times Viktor lets him carry him bridal style. Because the contractions are so painful, he can't keep standing, even with his cane.

He keeps kissing Viktor's face and telling him how good he's being.

Viktor clings to him. It's one of the few times he doesn't even think of bratting.

Silco facetiming Jayce so he can be there for the birth though.

Jayce totally walks out on an important meeting to answer the video call 'cause he knows Silco wouldn't call unless it was I M P O R T A N T

All the three of them have very different expressions when one baby gets delivered and the doc says the next is coming.

Jayce is an excited puppy, Silco is surprised, and Viktor is already too tired for this shit.

They do not have enough cribs for two babies

Jayce is on Amazon immediately getting next day shipping.

Silco is trying to calculate the doubling costs.

Viktor just wants a nap.

Viktor is just out cold not long after the birth, after the babies have had their chance to rest on his chest. As Viktor sleeps, Silco holds one baby, and the other snoozes in the hospital crib next to him.

Jayce is ending his trip early, on top of ordering the crib online. He's driving his rental to the airport even as his assistant books him a ticket for the next flight home.

Viktor is barely awake when he has to do the first feeding, with the nurses giving him instructions, and Silco is watching Viktor and babies like a hawk. They're just finishing up the feeding when Jayce arrives at the hospital.

The Babies are two (apparent) girls and get given neutral names

Avery and Ash.

Avery was Silco's first preference. Ash was Jayce's. Viktor honestly didn't have a clue what he wanted to name the baby(ies) -- he just wanted them OUT, BUT NO NOT LIKE THAT JAYCE ISN'T HERE

When Viktor is released from the hospital, Silco helps keep him upright as he leans exhaustedly on his cane, and Jayce carries the baby carriers -- one of which, he had to quickly buy at the nearest department store once it was clear that Viktor and babies were going to be released.

Jayce having to stop at some Russian restaurant on the way home because Viktor smelled the food in the air and had a sudden craving for Pelmeni. Silco (who pulls in behind them in his own car) runs in to get a double portion for take away, after coming to Viktor's window to ask what was wrong.

Jayce being like "Whatever's in those dumplings smell awful" when Viktor is eating them in the car. And Viktor is like "I haven't had these in 9 months. Leave me alone."

Viktor eats both portions and pouts 'cause he's still hungry, but they're already home.

"I'll get you more tomorrow, Vitya, but you need to rest"

That's Silco, who's already ushering him up the stairs. Viktor just huffs and leans into him because yeah fuck he's really tired

Jayce lets the babies snooze in the carriers while he works on putting together the second crib. Meanwhile, Silco helps Viktor into his pjs and curls up around him in their big bed -- which is much more comfy than the hospital one and Viktor conks out almost immediately, head tucked under Silco's chin

Once Jayce is done and has the babes settled, he also crawls in bed on the other side of Viktor, gathering both him and Silco in his arms

Yes. Silco is already asleep, so he can't complain

Silco giving Viktor free reign to boss Jayce around because he can't fuck for 6+ weeks.

Ash ending up being Silco's girl while Avery is sporty like Jayce.

A couple years later they have a boy and he is JUST like Viktor.

Boy constantly gets into trouble and big sis Ash has to get him out of it.

Silco's adopted kid, Jinx, was insecure at first but very quickly became a protect big sis for all of them.

It helps that Viktor is queer in a way similar to Jinx, so that softens the blow of the babies coming along.

Silco would go to every one of Avery's sports matches, even if he has no clue what's going on.

Jayce being really bad at explaining sports rules to him and Viktor has to take over.

Arch + Woods

[globaloppaaa]

OMG I SAW UR SUNGHOON THING and pookie i literally have THE headcanon of all headcanons bc its so plainly obvious but i feel like nobody talks about it-

sunghoon would be overjoyed to teach you how to skate. like i mean THRILLED like he would hold your hand or maybe your hips from behind and just glide on the ice with you OMG IM GONNA CRY HELPPPP i need this man in my lifeeeee aksjsjsvbsbe

ANYWAYS I LOVE UR BLOG SM IM A NEW FOLLOWER YAYAYAY

NO like sunghoon has quite literally taken over my brain ahsbhjftshis. but thank you for the follow omg!! you guy’s headcannons are keeping me so inspired. sometimes the headcannons that are painfully obvious are the best! because we KNOW they're probably the most realistic <3

warnings: slight angst?, history with negative emotions.

from a personal and relatable perspective, sunghoons dealt with a lot of isolation and maybe even trauma because of his diligent childhood, and so teaching those skills to someone he holds so dear to his heart is probably a terrifying thought. He's been asked if he would ever teach his child to skate, and never gave a definite answer as he wanted to ensure that it was truly something his child "would want to do." So when you mention to him how exciting you think it would be to go ice skating, he goes into fight or flight mode. He doesn't know if he should give it a chance for the purpose of making you smile, or straight up reject the idea in fear you might end up like him. But from the moment you step into the rink, frustratingly attempting to lace up your skates with a passion he hadn't seen in so long, especially in himself, he starts to accept that the things he once held with such frustration and resentment might've only been because he was blinded by its hindrance for so long. He’d forgotten the beauty it held. Seeing you sitting there, hair gently pulled over to one side as the cold air touches your skin, your quite literally the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"Don't worry baby, I'll show you." he utters, kneeling down before you as he pulls your ankle into his hands. His hair falls in front of his forehead, short enough that you can make out the small smile gracing his face. You swear to yourself he looks just like a prince. He laces your shoes tightly, and presents a hand out for you to hold, pulling you up to standing ever so gently. You're losing balance at the way he pulls you closer to his face, watching his eyes glimpse your lips before coming back up to your eyes. He doesn't look away as he guides you onto the ice, not even as the ground becomes too slippery for you to balance. Your legs begin to wobble, and you question whether this was a good idea in the first place, but you catch the way Sunghoon hasn't stopped smiling. How his eyes have squinted with joy since you stepped inside the rink a short while ago.

His hands snake around your waist, guiding you in front of his chest as he leads you around the rink. The weight of his steps steady you, guiding you smoothly across the ice. He can't take his eyes off you, not with the way you light up after starting to get the hang of things. Your eyes shift from the floor back up to his face, finding that he's already staring, and it turns you shy. He notices the way your hands place themselves on top of his. He loves that you need him, that he feels needed. Like he’s finally making someone feel the joy of the art that he hasn’t felt in so long. And in this moment, Sunghoon isn’t wincing at the thought of himself skating, most definitely when it’s with you.

suddenly, he doesn’t think it’s so bad.

reblogs and comments are appreciated!