#god he’d be so annoyed but not able to stop himself too

[lacehartz]

big bro! rafe who only ever eats u out thru ur underwear to begin with because it makes him feel less like a sick freak… until he can’t help himself anymore and is pulling them aside <33

i found the perfect p!link to go along with this !!! not exactly what you asked for but i feel like this fits a bit better <33 cw in tags.

he’d so be the type to do it when you’re sleeping too, because in his head that’s the only way he can excuse it </3 the first time he breaks into your room, he’d told himself it was just to take a pair of panties — something to hold him over. but when he saw you laying there, legs spread and blanket half wrapped around you, he knew he was thinking with his dick. he’d gotten down on his knees at the edge of your bed, just staring at something no brother should ever be eye to eye with. he was entranced, bewitched, and it wasn’t long before he was surging forward, pressing his nose against your core. and god did you smell divine. he’d give up all the lines in the world if it meant he got to inhale and sniff at your pussy for the rest of his life. but you’d twisted in his sleep, let out a little sound and it scared him. he didn’t want you waking up, didn’t want to see the look of disgust and fear, so he’d left. crawled out of your room the same way he’d come in, like a coward.

since that moment, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you. if you smelt that good, then surely .. surely you tasted good too, right? you’d ruined him completely, he couldn’t even fuck anyone else without his head blaring out a loud and annoying “wrongwrongwrong.” rafe realises he’s way too far gone when he’s begging barry for something that’ll keep you quiet, something that’ll lock you away in dreamland while he acts on his sick desires. he’s grateful that barry doesn’t care or raises any questions about what he’s planning to do with the roofie pills.

rafe had slipped one into the glass of water on your nightstand while you were at dinner, waiting quietly in his room until he saw the light go out from under your door. his chest aches painfully as he sneaks in once again, the movements now familiar with how often he’d been doing it. and there you were in all your glory; white cotton panties and a small tank top, mouth open and nipples piercing through your shirt. he barely reminds himself to check whether you’d actually drunk the water before he’s between your legs again, this time with resolve. rafe closes his eyes, hoping that it’d make it better. he could pretend you were someone else, someone who wasn’t his little sister. his pink tongue peeks out of his salivating mouth, hesitating just for a moment, and then he’s flat against your centre.

he moans. he moans loud and unabashedly, eyes rolling to the back of his skull as he flicks and licks and nibbles at your perfect cunt over your panties. you taste like coke and sugar and he knows this won’t be enough. he’d need more. he was a greedy, disgusting man and here he was, brought to his knees in bliss, because of you.

rafe can’t think anymore. it’s like he’s on autopilot, lapping at you like a starved dog. your panties grow translucent quickly, a mix of his saliva and your own unwanted arousal. he loves how pliant you are. loves how he can spread your thighs and slurp as hard as he wants at your clit, knowing you won’t wake up, that you can’t. rafe’s cock strains against the fabric of his briefs, hard and swollen and leaking. he wants nothing more than to rut against you, against your drooly pussy. he wants to be enveloped by your warmth. but the guilt starts crawling up his spine again, shooting sparks and crackling angrily. he feels like throwing up, as if his brain has finally realised what he was doing.

he stumbles up, chin wet with his own drool and he flees. he runs back to his room, dizzy and lost and still so fucking hard. rafe can’t stop himself. he has to do it. he’s reaching into his briefs, choking his dick in his fist, doesn’t even give himself the satisfaction of building it up. three strokes and he’s cumming all over his hand, thick globs of cum sticking to the same fingers he’d just used to spread open your legs.

despite the shame and horror and guilt flowing through him in a rare moment of post-nut clarity, he knows himself. rafe knew he’d be back in your room. he knew he’d be on his knees again and he knew tasting you through your panties wouldn’t work for long. he just hoped the guilt got easier to deal with.

[hoshifighting]

seungkwan sporty college fling?? plss 🤭🫦

a/n: first of all— IUSHDIASUHIUNFIABDIASUDIUBFIUHE the fach that he's exactly my type makes me weak on the kneeeeees!! second: WITH THE PICS ALREADY? LOVE YOU! WARNINGS: smut, fluff, med student!reader who's interning in the university's infirmary, handjob, oral (m. receiving)

sporty college fling!seungkwan who's, like, everywhere on campus. if there’s a sport to play, you bet your ass he’s signed up. volleyball, tennis, soccer, basketball, swimming, god, even frisbee if it means he gets to be out there showing off. and, look, it’s not even about the attention—though he loves that, too. he just loves the energy, the cheers from the sidelines, the way he can walk off the field dripping sweat, grinning like he just won the damn lottery.

so when he catches wind that you’re interning in the college infirmary? oh, he’s already scheming. you had no idea he knew you were there, but seungkwan’s been keeping tabs on you ever since that one history class last semester, where he’d sit behind you just to crack dumb jokes and steal your notes when you weren’t looking. he’s been hovering on the edge of your radar ever since, some mix of a friend and a tease that’s always around, always a little too close, always making you laugh even when you’re trying to focus.

so of course, it’s not a coincidence that today he’s on the field, pulling a stunt in the middle of a perfectly normal soccer game. there’s a loud yelp, and before you know it, seungkwan’s got his ass on the ground, clutching his ankle like he’s been hit by a truck. dramatic doesn’t even cover it. a friend tries to help him up, but he waves them off like he’s gotta handle this himself.

“nah, nah, i need a professional,” he says, wincing like he’s in some world-class pain, all while side-eyeing the infirmary building. eventually, the whole team’s staring at him, and the coach—who’s definitely onto him, by the way—just sighs and gestures toward the infirmary.

“alright, go get checked out,” he grumbles, “and don’t make it a habit, boo.”

so in he limps, or, well, mostly fakes limping. you’re organizing the medicine cabinet when you hear him stumble in, and the second you turn around and see him putting on that pitiful, injured expression, you know something’s up.

“oh, my god,” you deadpan, crossing your arms. “what happened this time, seungkwan?”

he sighs, laying it on thick. “soccer injury,” he says, wincing as he hobbles over to sit on the infirmary bed. “took a hard hit. they said only the best in here can take care of me.”

you roll your eyes, grabbing the ice pack and tossing it to him. “you know i can see through this bullshit, right?”

he smirks, barely able to keep up the act as he catches the ice pack and shrugs. “hey, i thought i’d at least get a little sympathy. i could be bleeding out, you know?”

“from your ankle? really?” you quip back, unable to stop the grin forming on your face. he shrugs and presses the ice pack to his ankle, looking around like he’s already scouting out what else he can mess with in here. it’s like he doesn’t even have to try—just exists, and it’s annoying but also kind of cute how he always manages to get away with it.

sporty college fling!seungkwan in those thin-ass shorts that they cling in all the right places, showing off his thick thighs, flexing calves, and the outline that has you looking anywhere but his lap whenever he walks into the infirmary. he’s got that sporty glow, a little sweat-slick, hair sticking to his forehead, flushed cheeks from running around, and that cocky smirk that’s always somewhere between friendly and downright dangerous.

so when you’re shrugging off your white coat, your tank top sticking a bit because the damn AC is broken, you catch him watching. his eyes go half-lidded, looking you up and down like you’re not a damn intern who’s just here to patch him up. he can’t even help it, a tiny little gulp as you reach back, trying to hold his knee steady while you clean up the latest scrape. and you lean over him—just a little closer to get a good angle—but the look on his face is downright sinful. he’s flushed deeper than ever, lips parted, eyes blown out like he’s somewhere far away from just a check-up.

and then you see it. oh, he’s really trying to keep it together, but that bulge is so obvious, so tight against the fabric of his shorts, it’s almost painful just looking at it. he’s shifting in place, his thighs pressing together, his hands gripping the edge of the bed, trying so damn hard to play it cool. trying being the keyword. you glance up, arching an eyebrow, giving him a once-over that has his face going from flushed to wrecked.

“you, uh… need help with anything else?” you murmur, voice dropping a bit, glancing between his lap and his face like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

he damn near chokes on his own breath, a helpless moan slipping out before he can stop it, his hips shifting forward as if he’s waiting for permission. and he spreads his legs wider, scooting to the edge of the bed, that smug smile barely peeking through as he bites his lip, knowing exactly what he’s about to ask for without saying a single word.

when you step forward and slip your hand between his legs, fingers skimming over the fabric, he lets out a broken sigh, tipping his head back with this blissed-out look that makes your heart pound.

sporty college fling!seungkwan whos losing his cool right in front of you, his little fantasy about to come true as you start to pull down those shorts, that look of relief as your hand wraps around him.

he’s biting his lip so hard it’s a wonder he doesn’t draw blood, trying to muffle the whimpers spilling out as you give him a few slow strokes, teasing just enough to make him squirm.

“fuck,” he hisses, pressing his palm tighter against his mouth, eyes wide as he glances toward the door like he’s expecting someone to walk in. you can’t help but chuckle softly; the thought of getting caught makes this whole thing even hotter. the university walls are so thin you can practically hear the whispers in the hallway, and seungkwan's face is a so desperate.

“c’mon, be quiet,” you tease, your voice low as you lean in a bit closer, brushing your thumb over the slick tip of his cock. it’s dripping now, and you can feel the pre-cum pooling in your hand, making it so easy to slide your fingers along his length. he whimpers again, muffling the sound with his hand, and it’s the kind of sweet, desperate noise that makes you want to do this forever.

“i can’t help it,” he whispers, trying to keep his voice down but failing miserably, and you can’t tell if he’s more embarrassed by how loud he is or by the way he’s getting even harder under your touch. you pick up the pace a bit, letting your fingers work him as his breath hitches, eyes rolling back just a little.

he clenches his eyes shut, the way he arches his back, trying to chase the pleasure.. his grip on his mouth tightens, and you can see the strain in his muscles, how he’s fighting against the urge to let it all out.

his gaze drops, catching on your fingers wrapped around him, nails perfectly manicured and glinting as they move, slow at first and then faster, like you’re testing just how much he can take. his eyes flick up, and the sight of your chest, bouncing with each stroke, almost sends him over the edge. it’s the kind of view he could lose himself in—is losing himself in—and he can’t look away, no matter how much he wants to keep his cool.

the slick, wet sound fills the small space, louder than his shaky breaths, louder than the little whimpers he’s trying so hard to hold back. his hips buck up, chasing the friction, and you can see him practically falling apart in your hand, his lip pulled between his teeth as he fights to stay quiet. it’s no use, though; his control is slipping, and he knows it.

“fuck—” he chokes out, voice breaking as his hand clamps over his mouth again, but his eyes stay glued to you, watching every single move you make. he swallows, pupils blown wide, his gaze flicking between your hand and your face. he looks like he’s about to burst any second.

the second your lips wrap around just the tip of his cock, seungkwan’s hands fly to his mouth, but it’s useless. the control he’d tried so hard to keep shatters instantly. a loud, ragged moan escapes, so reckless it could probably be heard down the hall, but he doesn’t care anymore.

“oh, fuck—no, wait, wait,” he gasp-whines, hands gripping the edge of the infirmary bed. his hips buck, but he’s melting under your touch, eyes rolling back as you swirl your tongue just around the head. its like his body’s got a mind of its own now, the pleasure overtaking everything else, every little shudder amplified. the quiet whimpers turn to full-on, desperate moans—he’s way past caring if anyone outside hears.

and then—before he can even manage a warning so you could take your mouth off him—his whole body tightens, and he’s coming, spilling over your tongue, a hot, sudden burst that has him gasping. his hand fly up, fingers digging into his own hair, breathless as he watches

he tries to collect himself. his legs feel weak, like he’s just finished sprinting through campus, but it’s way better than any game high. his legs are trembling, knees wobbling as he hops off the bed, trying to look at least half put-together while he straightens his shorts. but one look at your smirk, and he’s got that shy, red-faced grin back, a little embarrassed.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who keeps sneaking into the infirmary for a “checkup” every chance he gets, especially after practice, because, according to him, “gotta make sure i’m in top shape, right?”

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who starts showing up with snacks for you after practice—sweaty, still in his shorts and jersey, claiming they’re for you so “you don’t have to eat that vending machine crap all day.”

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who eventually works up the courage to pull you into a storage room between rounds, pushing you against a shelf with that smirk of his, whispering, “you didn’t think i forgot about how good you looked last time, did you?”

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who practically has your schedule memorized by now, showing up at the infirmary right when you’re alone, leaning against the doorframe as he says, “miss me yet?” like he’s not been haunting your thoughts all damn day.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who starts leaving you little notes in your bag with ridiculous messages, like “come to my game, i need my lucky charm,” with a winking face drawn on it. and when you finally show up, he plays like his life depends on it, catching your eye in the crowd every chance he gets, shooting you that smirk as he sprints down the field.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who gets bolder every time you’re alone, wrapping his arm around your waist in the empty hallway, backing you against the wall, grinning when you shoot him a look. “don’t act so innocent,” he murmurs, tilting his head down to kiss you until you’re breathless, leaving you flushed and slightly disheveled before slipping away like nothing happened.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who gives you his hoodie on chilly nights after practice, watching with a satisfied grin as you pull it over your head. he’d even say, “looks better on you, anyway,” then stroll off, pretending not to be thrilled seeing you in his clothes.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who one day catches you in the library and somehow convinces you to sneak into one of the back study rooms, grinning as he shuts the door and pulls you close, whispering, “been dying to get you alone, you know that?” before pressing his lips to yours, hands sliding up your back as if he’s got nowhere else he’d rather be.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who gives you a hard time for staying late at the infirmary, texting you, “don’t make me come drag you out myself,” and then showing up anyway. he lingers, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, looking at you with a smug smile and saying, “told you i’d come get you.”

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who finally asks you to stay over after a game, all soft and flushed from the adrenaline, looking at you with those bright, honest eyes. he murmurs, “you know, i don’t really want this to just be a fling,” his hand slipping into yours.

[dilfl0v3rss]

bully!ony

bully!ony who always seems to know just what to say to make your sensitive self cry

bully!ony who’d hide your pencils and take your computer while you went to the bathroom

bully!ony who’d call you mean and annoying names like chubs, dough girl, muffin, dumb dumb, and cupcake. his favorite being peaches since that was the first thing he smelled the first time you walked passed him on campus.

“cmere peaches, need you t’do my homework so i can come back and terrorize you next semester”

bully!ony who was nearly a foot taller than you, towering over you with a mean look when he sees you doing something he doesn’t like.

“stop wearing this skimpy ass skirt. ass all out like a desperate bitch” he mumbled, his harsh, deep voice made you shrink in fear. this only brought a smile to his face, his pearly white teeth flashing at you as he shamelessly looked you over. “i-i like m-my skirt, s’pretty.” you whispered, your finger gravitating towards the middle of your glasses, pushing them up your nose as you looked up at the bully with big, scared, doe eyes.

ony’s smile began to fade, an unknown anger showing in him as he grabbed your bag from your shoulder, snatching book after book out of it before letting each one hit the floor. “s’pretty until you gotta pick shit up. now niggas gon be able t’see everything you got going on under it” he spit, his side colliding with yours as he walked past you and towards the door, not missing the little wet patch in your cotton panties as you bent over to pick up your stuff. “tch, slut…”

bully!ony who’d purposely put things too high or too low just to watch you struggle. the way your breasts would bounce as you jumped for your favorite book in his hand or the way your panties would show, your pretty pussy fighting against the fabric as you reached under a chair for your computer. he couldn’t help but feel his dick jump in excitement.

bully!ony who had no shame walking into your dorm room and taking your snacks, not even knocking on the door since he knew you kept it unlocked while you were in there.

bully!ony who’d copy off of your work constantly, giving you stern looks and a tight squeeze to your thigh to keep you quiet. it worked every time.

bully!ony who’d scare you into coming with him to parties, preying on your fear of being all alone as he’d tell you that the campus would be empty since everyone else would be there except you.

bully!ony who’d make you stay by him the entire time, leaving a big, strong palm on your ass at all times to “let niggas know”. you didn’t mind it though, never questioning anything he does since you were so cute, scared, and dumb.

bully!ony who couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous when he saw you getting hit on in the line for the bathroom.

“look really pretty in that skirt mama” eren said, his voice quickly making heat travel to your cheeks as you looked down at your pretty pink shoes. “t-thank you” you whispered. he heard you, but at the sight of your shy little face eren couldn’t resist teasing you a little. “whatchu say? you gotta speak up f’me pretty the music’s loud in here” as he spoke, his big hand found itself under your chin, lifting your gaze up to his pretty eyes as he stared at you with mischief written all over his face.

ony watched the whole scene unfold, his fists clenched tightly as he removed himself from his spot on the couch. you didn’t even notice him coming as you watched the person in front of you exit the bathroom. before you could say another word to eren you felt a strong hand grip the back of your neck, shoving you in the bathroom before ony followed you inside. he towered over you menacingly, “what was that?” you looked up him, fear and confusion written all over your face as you tried to understand what you did that upset him so much. “i-i don” “oh my god ‘i-i-i’ speak up chubs. you fucking him?”

tears quickly trickled down your cheeks, your mascara messing up as you wiped at them constantly with the sleeve of your pink long sleeve crop top. “n-no…never” you whispered, ony quickly wrapped a hand around your throat, turning you around towards the mirror as he bent you over the sink. “then scream real loud while i fuck you so he could hear”

bully!ony who told you all the time that only he was allowed to touch you since he was the “only man that gave you attention” when in actuality, every guy on campus wanted to be with you but he’d scare each of them off before they even tried.

bully!ony who’d constantly fluster you from shamelessly lifting up your skirt while you sat with him in the library to slapping the fatty flesh of your ass while you bent over to get one of your pencils he’d drop.

bully!ony who couldn’t help but notice that you’ve been a little off lately. the pencils and books he’d enjoy stealing and hiding nowhere to be found as you sat in class with just your computer. tears were in your eyes as you sat in front of the black screen, not even trying to get any notes down as you let your sadness fall down your cheeks.

bully!ony who followed you around for the rest of the day searching for the boy who thought it was okay to mess with you when you were alone. breaking your pretty pink pencils and wetting up your favorite books. “this him muffin?” ony said, holding the guy by the back of his collar with a big tattooed hand as he awaited your reply. you nodded your head, your mascara filled tears drying on your chubby cheeks as you looked at the petrified look the boy carried. ony took one deep breath before telling you to go wait for him in his car. you listened without hesitation, not wanting to anger him further.

he returned to the car with blood covering his knuckles, anger still lingering over his face but it was much calmer than before. “y-your hands” you mumbled but he ignored you, silently making his way to his apartment. even though the two of you have had sex multiple times you’ve never been to his apartment, always settling for a bathroom quickie or your dorm room so you were very surprised to see the huge, spacious apartment this man had. “rooms right there” he mumbled, nodding his head towards his door. you quietly made your way in there, lightly sitting at the edge of his bed as you let todays events replay in your mind.

as ony finally joined you in the room, you noticed the blood from his hands as well as his tight black t shirt nowhere to be found. his broad chest full of tattoos moving closer and closer to your face before he was standing right in front of you. arousal quickly rushed inside your panties as your eyes moved up to his inked neck then to the sexy, dark brown skin of his face. “ass up” was all he said and you complied immediately, making him scoff as he watched your skirt instantly move up your back, putting your soaked panties on full display for him. “knew you’d be wet…slutty lil bitch” he mumbled, rubbing his thumb up and down the wet fabric before pulling it to the side.

ony freed himself from his sweats, lining up with your entrance before sinking into you fully. your pretty moans only drove him crazier as he already started building up to a quick pace. “fuck peach you so tight” he groaned, his hands pushing down on your back as he fed deep strokes into your pussy. your eyes where already in the back of your skull, your hands gripping the sheets as you took each and every inch of him. “o-ohhhh my g-odddd” you moaned, your pussy only getting wetter as you felt ony fuck you even harder, his hips slapping against your ass as he let the rest of his anger out on your body.

“only i can be mean t’you right cupcake? only daddy can make you cry?” he said, his deep voice making your walls clench as you replied with a whiny “only you daddy”. ony gave you a satisfied slap on the ass, his pace quickening as he angled his hips down towards your g spot. “and only i can make you feel good, fuck this pussy just how you like it?” you nodded your head but ony wanted words, his hand leaving a harder slap on your ass as his other hand went to pull you up a little by your hair. “talk t’daddy baby or do y’want me t’stop?” a whine instantly flew from your lips, your ass moving back on him harder as you begged for him to continue. “n-no! only you can t-touch me daddy pleaseeee, just keep goinggg”

a smirk crept onto his lips, his dick twitching in excitement at your obedience as he fucked you just the way you liked it.

bully!ony who had been in love with you since he met you but didn’t know how to tell you, settling for picking on you and your pretty little pussy until he got the right words together to ask you out properly. until then he’d settle for being your big, mean, scary bully and you his pretty, timid, quiet little peach.

[pinecipitation]

Hiii could you possibly do like..smiling friends with a reader that’s on their period headcanons?

I GOT U BRUH TRUST ‼️

SMILING FRIENDS X GN!READER (with fem aligned anatomy, if you bleed then this you shall read‼️

word count: around 500

content warning: nothing I think

credit to @kryloxen for the what size joke in charlies bc they’re the funniest bitch I know

PIM: prioritizes treats and food

- he’s got sisters, he knows a thing or two because he’s seen a thing or two

- will be very understanding and empathetic, out of anyone he’d be the nicest

- would probably know ur week is coming before YOU know, and is prepared as usual

- I’m a huge candidate of baker pim, I believe he’d bake sweets and remake your favorite desserts just so you always have a sweet treat around

- he has enough knowledge on products to be able to pick up stuff in stores for you, but if he has to talk to an employee he’d stutter and blush a little, but my god he’s getting u ur damn tampons

- again, super into sweets and treats, will come back from the store with bags of anything you want and crave, he’s a very sweet boy

CHARLIE: prioritizes comfort and warmth

- “ayo i’m at the pad aisle what size pussy you wear?” hurry up he’s getting weird stares

- you’re always more than welcome to wear his oversized clothes and hoodies, he actually subliminally encourages you to but seeing you lounge around in his stuff makes him feel like he’s helping

- heated blankets, multiple blankets and pillows, hoodies, HIM even, everything about charlie’s home and charlie himself is warm, cuddly, and comfortable

- will ask a thousand times a day if you’re cold, if you’re hot, if you’re lying about not being hot, and is often on standby with either a warm drink or a cold glass

- always overuses the same “wings? wtf is it gonna take off” joke on pads

- jokes around too much to a point where it almost aggravates you, but at the end of the day, if he sees you start to get annoyed he will always offer himself as a cuddle buddy and offer couch time and a movie

ALAN: prioritizes peace and meds

- medicine cabinet stock full of any pain or sleep pills always, you’ve never had to make him go to the store at 11pm for anything

- like pim, will also know your week is coming sooner than you do

- always has meals and hydration prepared for you, is extremely into making sure you get every vitamin and protein your body needs in these trying times. like seriously he has a full water bottle that he needs you to finish daily

- is not afraid to yell at his upstairs neighbors to shut up, or a kid on the street to stop screaming. he values you and would rather die than overstimulate you even indirectly

- will always draw nice baths and include your favorite scents, again I see him as a huge hygiene person so trust he’s got that bath and body works set of whatever smell u smelled once and liked

- loves quiet time where you both are near each other but just sit on your phones respectively or watch a show on low volume in the background of something else. it’s like allowing yourself to do what you want, but still be near the other person

GLEP: prioritizes za

- would say ew and then offer you weed

[yanderederee]

Library Kisses

a/n:I really wanted to write this idea with Baji in mind but I’ve rewrote it four different times and each time it comes out not good and the only person I can picture is Mikey so I’m giving into the Mikey brain rot okay?

now~ … part2 … part3 … part4 … part5

Manjiro Sano NEVER came to school, even more rarely class. If he did even bother to show up, it was usually to hang out on the roof for some cool air, or in the vending area for a nice nap with snacks nearby. No one could tell him where he needed to be, after all. And if they pushed too hard and annoyed him, he’d just leave.

That suddenly changed after he lost a serious bet with Emma and Shinichiro. The consequence? Attend all classes for Two Weeks.

Two weeks felt like forever, he admitted. The first day didn’t seem like it would be so bad, until he started actually paying attention to the teacher.

God, he thought. What a drag.

(Shikamaru—-?)

Manjiro was so far behind in studies, he had no idea half of what was being taught. So, before he let his temper rise, he simply stopped paying attention again.

This quickly became a problem.

Nothing interesting to keep his attention on, Mikey found himself falling into boredom. Irritation was bubbling yet again. Of corse, Mikey never brought anything with him. No paper, pencil, books, it was a random chance of luck that Emma was even able to find his school bag.

So with literally nothing to keep his attention, he started getting antsy. How long until this dumb lecture was over anyway? He glanced at the clock.

HOW IN THE HELL HAD ONLY 20 MINUTES PASSED?

He was absolutely flabbergasted. No way in Hell would he be able to handle this torture. Screw the bet, Emma and Shin could eat dirt for all Manjiro cared.

Yet…

“…sss…” whispered a tiny sound.

Manjiro would have ignored it had he not been eager for something to get his attention. He shifted his gaze to the direction of the whisper: the cute classmate who sat beside him.

You.

Before he could wonder what or why you were trying to interact with him, he noticed you holding something out to him.

‘..the hell?’ He looked down at what you were gripping in your hands.

It was a notebook. A very basic and boring one, had you not doodled little flowers and vines into the cover.

Cute.

Accompanied with the notebook was both a pencil and pen, both neatly held tight to the notebook.

Mikey looked up to gander at your eyes, which looked rather worried, brows knitted together with a soft considerate smile. You made the effort of motioning to the gifts once more, before he unconsciously took it without much thought.

You seemed to be very pleased by his acceptance, your expression shifted to relief, then a friendly thumbs up before letting your focus run back to the instructor.

‘Why did i even take the book?’ Well, either way it would serve as a doodle book of his own, if nothing else. The pen and pencil both roll off the notebook cover when he opened to examine its contents.

Gibberish, is all Mikey saw. Pure, number coded gibberish. To the average student, it would have looked like neatly worded mathematic notes, color coded and plenty. If he’d looked further, he’d find notes related to other subjects as well. But he really didn’t feel like it.

Thankfully, to keep his interest, a small little notecard was stuck as a bookmark.

Mikey glanced your direction again, amused when he noticed you were doing the exact same thing, but unlike him, when you accidentally made eye contact, you immediately break it to unsubtly pretend to have your attention up front again.

He grinned. You were cute.

Without his left hand never leaving his pocket, he managed to open the notebook with only his right hand, fingers nimbly spreading the book open to the bookmarked section.

He noticed some familiar words on this page. Matter of fact, a lot of the words written down on this section of pages were word for word what was being vocally spoken, when he took a second to listen.

Again shifting his attention, he noticed your handwriting on the bookmark, as well.

“I hope this helps! I don’t see you in class often, so I thought you could use these. Don’t worry about returning them, you can keep them if you want.

If you need help catching up, I’m apart of the tutoring program the school offers!

My name is Y/n L/n, I hope we can get along:)”

That’s all you wrote.

He starred intently at your handwriting for sometime. It was a hell of a lot more legible when what he could do, and while you used rather simple kanji, it still took him a minute to register them. He really Has been gone from school a while.

Manjiro found himself smiling without permission. It was kind of touching, the kindness of a stranger who genuinely looks out for others without gain.

For the sake of your kindness, Mikey did attempt to follow the lesson one more time, with the notes at his ready.

Unfortunately, he still didn’t really get what was going on. What even subject were they talking about? Social studies, geographics, English literature? He gave an exasperated, loud groan before slumping back in his seat. He found himself falling back into irritation.

Trying to calm himself for the third time this class period, he noticed the same soft whisper that caught his attention the first time. Quicker to respond this time, Manjiro lugged his head towards your direction again. He felt his smile wanting to surface again when he was met with your worried expression once more.

You seemed to want to say something, but obviously were worried about the consequences. So, immediately after meeting eyes, you gave a “wait a sec” kind of gesture, and started scribbling on a similarly decorated notecard. He waited for you patiently, unable to do much else anyway.

Soon, you began reaching your hand out to give him the notecard. However, Manjiro wanted more than your written attention. So, before you could react or slip the note on his desk, he reached out to take the note from your hand. He didn’t just reach out to take the note however, purposefully, he outstretched his delicate looking fingers a little further, and trailed his finger tips along the back of your hand. Slowly he offered a very gentle squeeze before his hand pulled back, finger tips trailing a path from your wrist to your nail beds.

The touch was brief, but accidentally intimate. So much so that your breath hitched from the unexpected action. No one seemed to notice. Manjiro did, but no one else. Probably.

This all but lit a fit of flames in his gut, a giddy feeling irrupting before he could even read the note. Eagerly, he scanned the card.

“Don’t let the material get you down! You can catch up in no time. Hang in there!”

This time, your handwriting was a little more messy, quicker. Still, it was cute, he thought.

Giving up on the lecture entirely at this point, he finally let go of his bored sitting stance, and retreated his left hand from his pocket to maneuver the notebook and two note cards on his desk. Grabing the pencil you’d also lent him, he began to scribble something under your handwriting of the second notecard.

“Thanks”

Is all he wrote. Honestly, he got nervous halfway through writing, and gave up after he finished only the single word. Nerves slowly got to him when he noticed a pair of eyes peering at him secretly. Your gaze felt like burning on his skin when he thought about it for too long. Ignoring your gaze this time, he knew you had the upper hand when his peripheral sight caught your big smile.

…

Once the bell had rang for break, all the students seemed to jump up to leave. Manjiro was still doodling in the back of your notebook. You were packing your things neatly as you usually do, glancing at the delinquent next to you. Finishing up a few last strokes, Manjiro lazily held the book up for your appraisal.

Doodled rather… poorly, was his name, and ‘Tokyo Manji Gang’ in different fonts… as well the face of the Doriyaki mascot. (?)

You didn’t seem to hide your amusement, openly giggling at the childish doodles and gave a thumbs up. He liked that. Manjiro grinned at your approval and shut the book, resting his head to look at you with a new intensity.

“Y/n, right?” He asked. You nodded, not seeming too phased by his intentionally intense aura.

“Nice to officially meet you, Manjiro.” You greeted back with a chirp. He blinked at you a little wide before letting out a quiet laugh. “Isn’t it normal to use someone’s surname when addressing them for the first time?” He asked. No, he never minded it. Of corse not.

The middle schooler was used to many names.

Boss.

Captain.

The Invincible Mikey

Mikey.

But the only ones with the privilege to call him by his given name: Manjiro. We’re limited to his only siblings.

. . . .

And apparently, you too.

It was amusing. No stranger DARED utter his given name, out of fear of disrespecting the great Mikey….. yet here you were.

God, he loved the way his name sounded, coming from you.

Manjiro.

He didn’t even realize how smitten by it he was. Not until he realized you were starting at him inquisitively.

Shit, what did you say? He forgot entirely.

…

The following few weeks consisted of Manjiro Sano following you around, more or less.

Out of everything school had to offer, he swears up and down that the only thing that caught his interest was you.

It was a well known fact that Manjiro Sano was a delinquent. Big Boss of Toman. Dangerous beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Mikey never acted in public how he normally would around the founding toman, it wasn’t known how childish and goofy he was.

Manjiro don’t too much trusting. Too many mistakes. He found himself treading lightly, yet he couldn’t back-peddle from wanting your attention.

He monitored you closely for the past week. He took note of your reactions, your ideals, how you treated others. He wrote down your favorite manga, silly irrational fears.

It didn’t take him long to realize how others treated you either.

People walked all over you, yet you didn’t bat an eye about it. It’d be really annoying if you did things for people just so people would like you. People definitely saw you as a pushover.

You rolled with the punches, so to speak. Any vile attitude aimed at you seemed to go unnoticed, as you maintained composure effortlessly. You never gave anyone a reason to bad mouth you either way, but snarky remarks about being a pushover did become a class commodity. It was easy to pick on the one who never fought back.

Yet Manjiro knew it wasn’t out of kindness or seeking compensation for your good deeds.

“Why’d you stop to help that guy pick up his lunch? He was cleaning the mess up just fine, you didn’t need to help him.” Mikey pouted, originally irritated because you broke from his side to do this task.

You finished washing your hands, drying them on the dry cloth Manjiro held out to you. Replying with a shrug, “Why not? He looked like he could use the help. If he didn’t want it he could tell me to buzz off, but it doesn’t hurt to offer some help.”

Manjiro rolled his eyes. “Might not hurt, but it’s inconvenient as hell,” he mumbled. You gave him a stern look, raising an eyebrow. “Inconvenient how? Were you gatta be so urgently?” You joked, confusing your classmate further.

You laughed, and patted him on the shoulder. “Think about it, if you were havin’ a bad day and dropped your stuff, you’d be pretty pissed off right? Even if it’s one little act, things like that help get you through the day,”

“Nothing wrong with trying to make the world a little bit of a nicer place.”

That’s when Manjiro Sano’s knew you were his darling.

You were so soft with him, and he loved that about you. He loved when you beamed at him with pride for whatever academic achievement he mastered…

You were different.

You were perfect- Manjiro declared.

Three weeks finally pass, and Mikey hadn’t missed a single day of school. Maybe a skipped class or two, but he always showed up on his sweet babu, if not to tease you and pick up the notes you made him before snacking on the roof.

Mikey has been holding back ever since that day. Keeping his darker impulses at bay time and time and time again.

He held back every time you got too close, and your clothes brushed up against his more than a casual encounter.

He held back every time you looked him dead in the eye, asking him if he was okay.

He held back when the little pinch of pain in his chest made him want to croak out the truth: Not really…

Mikey held back the tears, the words and feelings he suddenly felt so comfortable expressing.

Because it was you who asked.

Each and every time he held back from making you his darling. He wanted you to hold him so desperately. For you to fill that empty space he’s always had.

A part of Mikey knew that if you found out just how much he loved you, you would start to fear him.

You too would start walking on eggshells around him, run away after high school and abandon him.

…Or you would bend to his command one day, and he hated the thought of it.

He hated thinking about your trapped form, scared to speak the wrong thing.

He hated thinking he could make you into that person.

Ha hated the thought of you hating him.

…he didn’t want you to have that choice.

…

And there you were, listening to him whine.

“Come’onnnn Y/ncchin!~ it’s so boring hereeee,”

You glance down to your left, seeing your classmate’s practice packet still blank. “Well, if you can answer those for me I’ll take you out for Taiyaki; my treat.”

He loved you so much. You always knew how to motivate him.

However, he already knew you would treat him to taiyaki, even if he didn’t get the answers right, or if he even did them at all.

“Buuu~ not this time Y/nchiin! Bribe denied.” He huffed, anticipating your reply.

You matched his huff, crossing your arms. He loved the way you looked when you pouted.

“Maybe I’ll just stop tutoring you then!” You threatened weakly.

“No chance, you want me to graduate so bad.” Mikey snorted a laugh.

“No more leftover bento bits,” you warned testingly.

“You’d never let poor little me starve…” he batted his eyelashes.

“…”

He grinned with triumph.

“Fine, what will it take for you to try to pass ONE class?”

“Mm~” Mikey hummed, glancing over the material to appraise it.

If Manjiro were honest, he could get rather good grades, actually. With repetition, and your good habits, he was actually learning really quickly. But he couldn’t let you know that. He liked when you babied him through some things, just to impress you beyond comprehension moments later.

The praise…

Oh, Mikey thought. That’s it. He wants your praise. He wants you to tell him how awesome he was, how cool and dashing he could be, how smart he was. How much you loved him-

“How bout if I can ace this whole packet, you have to grant me one favor?”

The deal went just as you would have thought it would. He feigned having trouble on the packet of questions, so not to seem overly suspicious.

Yet true to his plan, you now owed him one favor.

“Fine, what favor do you want from me?” You chuckled while rolling your eyes.

Your first line of thought went to,

‘make me homemade taiyaki!’

‘let me cheat on the final!’

‘wax my CB250 !’

… not, “stay still, unless you really don’t want to.”

His voice was a whisper, and you’re immediately caught with your guard down.

Manjiro gently weaves his left hand under your hair. He tilts your head slightly, enough so he could achieve his goal, any resistance on your end being considered with mindful touches. He wouldn’t push you past your comfort. He couldn’t stand if you looked at him with fear in your eyes, too.

Your breath hitches, giving way to wind the excitement his actions gifted you.

Your breath continues to be shaky, yet obeying his favor, you sat still.

Both of you took a few seconds to get your racing hearts back under control.

It was futile, but the nerves to act finally snapped after Mikey and your eyes’ caught each others. The mirrored look of excitement was all Manjiro could stand. The accepting bat of your eyelashes.

Manjiro Sano didn’t hold back this time.

Still gentle, Manjiro quickly closed the gap between your awaiting kiss.

Seconds pass. Two very soft sighs can be heard.

Followed by Manjiro’s lip clicking sweetly against yours when the kiss naturally deepened.

This was heaven.

The feeling of you so close, so accepting, so gentle to him.

Mikey wanted to caress you into a deep hold, may so that the heat and desperate banging against his chest would finally feel heard. He wanted to feel your heartbeat pulse against his lips.

Manjiro Sano wanted to be gentle.

But he couldn’t help how his muscles tensed and grabbed you harder. How could he, when you just let out the cutest fucking moan. The craving of your submission suddenly became more appealing, Mikey felt himself coming to life again.

He pushed your lips deeper, the force of his grip and encouragement to mimic his lead allow the kiss to deepen once more to something more recognized as making out.

He couldn’t stop. You were losing breath, and he could feel you try to initiate a pause, but damnit, he couldn’t stop.

It started getting hard to breathe without gasping for air, but your whines and accidental moans were damning you more than you realize.

Manjiro. Couldn’t. Stop.

Again, he pushed the kiss so you had no other choice than to breathe your cute noises into his waiting mouth, tongue darting for a taste.

He couldn’t stop himself from pulling you closer into his embrace, making it so you were standing on one foot while your other knee rested just between his thighs.

Fuuuck, he thought. You’re so warm, all of you. But warmest of all, was the heat you were generating with friction and arousal. All he had to do was hike his knee up just a little. Just a little bit. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the animal he would become after hearing what your siren like moans would turn him into.

So finally, Manjiro held back.

He pulled back, panting without much issue. Assessing your face, your eyes… your lips.

Your lips were just barely swollen, rubbed into a pretty red tint (with his help).

A thin, barely noticeable line of spit lay unattended, from his unfortunate retreat.

He wiped it gingerly, looking back into your eyes with a hooded gaze.

“A…are you.. sure?” You softly croaked out.

“About what..?” Manjiro whispered back.

“I dont… like joking about these types of things…” you continue, face becoming redder. “S-so if you’re messing around, I’ll get mad…” you warned, again, weakly.

You were so soft with him.

“And what if I’m not messing around?” Mikey asks you point blank, his intense stare once again peering into your very soul.

There’s a short moment of silence.

And suddenly, it’s your turn to gently brush against his also swollen lips. Rather than a kiss, it felt more like a binding.

Manjiro Sano vowed to you that very moment. And this was a seal of your acceptance.

That was all he could ever ask for.

[heartkaji]

[ ★ ⸻ @meidiary ]

selfship event

★ OVERVIEW !

MEI BABY HI HRU ?? you and endo are definitely sunshine x sunshine protector. girly gf and obsessed bf. you know that trend on tiktok that’s like “walk him like a dog”? yeah. that’s you and endo 100%

Q3 — WHO FELL FIRST & WHO FELL HARDER ?

ENDO FELL FIRST. you caught his eye the moment you came in : dressed in pink with satin ribbons in your hair. your personality was a bit of a shock for him though—he wasn’t expecting you to be this loud. he thought you’d be that pretty, quiet girl at the back of the classroom. while i don’t think he fell in love at first sight, i do think he was curious about you from the very beginning. i think you guys started out as unlikely friends : he made a couple of jokes & you surprised him with your sense of humor. you both started as friends and quickly became closer, sharing inside jokes & gossiping and the likes. it took him a bit before he realized he was in love but boy once he did he was plotting on you HEAVY.

if i’m being honest, i think both of you are equally in love. surprising because we all know endo’s the type to love wholly & devotedly, but i feel like you match his energy. both of you are idiots in love & TRUST me when i say chika is sick of yall 🤦‍♀️ any time you pull up to the function and chika spots you he’s walking the other way. he’d rather not deal with both of you at the same time.

Q6 — TOXIC THINGS THEY DO ?

sunshine protector endo yamato takes protection a little bit too seriously i fear 💔 he can’t help himself, you’re so pretty n cute n trusting & the streets of furin aren’t exactly the safest. he’s afraid your personality will get you into trouble. because of that he can be a little extra : you have to have your location on at all times & god forbid you take five minutes too long to reply to his texts. he’ll immediately panic that something’s wrong on your end, and depending on how long you take to reply he MIGHT go berserk.

i also think endo is very guilty of doing too much 🤦‍♀️ i think he’s pretty possessive but without being jealous : he’s the type to put his arm over your shoulder whenever a guy approaches you just for the thrill of it. he doesn’t think for a second that anyone could steal you away from him so he isn’t jealous, but that doesn’t stop him from being a complete asshole to anyone who comes close to you. you often reprimand him for it but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think it was hot

endo also talks about his exes a lot i fear. i mean, at least it’s not in a positive way ? but it’s annoying nevertheless. “you like camellias ? ew, my ex maggie used to like those.” “huh ? don’t say that mei, you sound like my ex bellinda.” it’s a new ugly name everyday and you’re sick of it. worst part about it is he doesn’t even mean to bring them up. it’s something he does unintentionally but because you’d rather be the ‘cool’ girlfriend who’s not easily offended, you suffer in silence rather than talking to him about it. you hide your discomfort pretty well so he’s not able to pick up on it, so atp it’s something he has to realize on his own.

Q10– AT WHAT MOMENT DID THEY FALL IN LOVE ?

the moment you asked him about his tattoos. you asked him so sweetly and innocently :( “endo, what’s the story behind this one ? oh, and this one ? and that one too !” he watched you with glazed eyes as your fingers brushed over each inked diagram. you had absolutely no idea what you were doing to him (or at least he thinks you didn’t). by the time you were done tracing the lines on his skin he was already a mess of labored breaths & blood drenched cheeks. his eyes met yours & you flashed him the sweetest grin 💔. fucking god, he wanted to kiss you right then & there. but back then you two were nothing more than friends so all he could do was clear his throat & explain each drawing with a shaky voice. yeah, he was down bad.

>> 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 <<

© ─ heartkaji ; do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload

[izvmimi]

cw: fluff. pop star!bakugou. prior breakup mention. based on the story behind the eyes, nose, lips mv, iykyk.

Even if you guys are closer than can be, your friends are typically more likely to text before they call, especially at this time of night, and less likely are they to accost you in a sudden video call the way they are now. You were asleep, just by stroke of luck waking up to the sound of your phone vibrating on your end table, too exhausted to put your phone on Do Not Disturb. It’s just a few minutes after midnight, 12:06 am to be exact, and when you pick up the phone, both of them appear frantic.

“Oh, thank God.”

“___, please tell me you’re away from a phone right now.”

“Dumbass, we’re literally calling her on the phone right now.”

“Don’t call me a dumbass.”

Still rubbing your eyes, you let out a sigh.

“Why did you two call me?” You’re still horizontal, trying to orient yourself while lowering your phone brightness. It’s entirely dark in your room, and you’ve been exhausted all day between errands and other activities, including a single 25 minute cry over your failed relationship.

It’s been 3 months since you and Katsuki split, and while you’ve overall been handling it quite well, intermittently the sadness overtakes you. After all, it was abrupt.

Dating a pop star was not all it’s cracked up to be, especially when it ends abruptly over a dinner you could never afford yourself with the words “take care of yourself, okay?” from a man you’d planned the rest of your life with. The last thing you’d asked him to do before that was to go public, and he’d been hesitant to, and you don’t know what happened between then and that night, because it all ended all too quickly, with you crying on the limo ride home. 

3 months later and you were almost over it until you chanced on a photo you’d forgotten to hide away in your digital memoirs and proceeded to sob.

“So uh… have you spoken to Katshole recently?”

You roll your eyes at the nickname your friend has given him, not bothering to tell her now to be nice. “No.”

It still annoys you. “Please stop calling him that.”

“Fine.”

Your other friend sighs.

“So uh, anyway, he dropped a video.” You raise your eyebrow.

“I mean, sure. Is the girl in it hot?” you ask. You pretend you haven’t been looking at his social media intermittently, trying to see if there was someone new in his life, but either way Katsuki prided himself on keeping his private life hidden away, so you wouldn’t be able to tell unless it was someone equally famous or advantageous to his career.

Your two friends both grimace at the same time. One says, “I mean yes, but not in the way you think.”

You blink.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You’re up and seated now, bedsheets pulled to your lap. You’ve minimized the video and are now typing his name into Google, and can see, indisputably, that he’s posted a new music video.

“Why did you guys wake me up for this?”

“Babe, listen to me carefully. If you’re not ready to get back together, do not click this video.”

Your heart thumps, while both of your friends watch you with bated breath, as your face contorts, trying to figure out what that means.

“I-”

“You’re in the video.”

You blink rapidly, your eyebrows still furrowed together, as your heart rate starts to pick up. Your mouth opens then closes.

You’re in the video.

“She’s done for,” one of your friends says, reading the look on your face, and sighs. “I’m gonna hang up, I’ll see you in the morning.”

All of you say your goodnights, and of course, you remain up, your face basking in the blue light of your cell phone, as you watch Katsuki’s urgent music video supposedly with you in it.

The video culminates in Katsuki, standing by a painted mural, and you recognize the photo, an image of your face from the first time he flew you out to paint in Italy, something that would have won any girl over just from the expense and planning, but won you over because he chose you as his model, because you can still remember how his lips parted as he mixed the right colors for your hair.

I’m sorry, please pick up my call, the video closes with the words written in his handwriting, and said with his voice, and you can feel the tears streaming down your face as you wordlessly cry.

And then your phone rings.

[luminique]

i bet that when lighter yearns, he yearns HARD. he can act all suave and cool around other people but when you come to mind while he's alone in bed he has to sit up and hold his head in his hands cuz he wants u soooo bad

but also he's just like me fr cuz he's got me giggling and kicking my feet from his voice alone (aleks le you god)

he just like me too frfr. also when i found out he was voiced by aleks le, i went full on NERD MODE (i LOVE knowing voice actors and their other works) and concluded that he would sound really good before i even heard his voice officially. aleks le my goat….

ANYWAYS !! i think he gets a little annoyed at himself for not being more straightforward with you. once in a blue moon, he’d go to new eridu and see other couples holding hands, and he’d yearn so hard to the point where he stops his bike and just rests his head on it. it kills him that he can’t do the same with you, he wishes that he wasn’t the champion just so that he doesn’t have to always act so cool and mysterious.

especially when you both get so caught up in your own errands, he doesn’t get time to see you. all he can do is just catch a glimpse of you before you’re gone again. he hopes that lucy would give him some odd job that allows him to be with you but it just NEVER happens.

at the end of the day, his playlist would go from something cool to slow, sad love songs. once he’s in bed, he wonders whether you’re safe in bed too. whether you think about him too, whether you have been missing him. maybe tomorrow he’ll be able to see you… even if it’s just for a second. he wants to see you, he needs to.

[captain-lessship]

His “Sidekick In The Chair” No Longer Pt. 1

a/n: No die hard comic fans come for me but I do know that Toxin (A symbiote) has helped spider man in the comics and I wanted to write something that has the potential to get funny but I will warn you, there is a sad bit in this part.

CW: Possible Spoilers (idk i know not everyone has watch the movie or read the comics)

“Every superhero has a sidekick!” He whined.

Your best friend, Pavitr, had offered to walk you home and had talked non-stop about you helping him. 

“Pav,” you turned around, fully ready to shut him down but you saw the sheer hope and excitement in his eyes, “I- Fine!” You lamented. “But I am not your sidekick, we are equals.”

He smiled widely at you as he slung his arms around you, “I knew you’d agree! Thank you. And sure! You can be a hero too!” 

You rolled your eyes playfully, “Besides how hard could it be?”

“About that… we need suits.”

“What?”

“Oh come on, all superheroes have cool suits and besides you can sew!” He said.

“I really really hope that I get side swiped by a car.” You groaned.

“You’ll never get hurt while I am here.” He said, voice trying to be serious.

You were unimpressed, “Let’s hope you never have to use that line.” You patted him on the back. 

When you got home, you immediately got to work doodling up a suit that would be fit for your rather expressive best friend and now partner in crime fighting. 

You smiled to yourself as you drew and after what felt like hours, you added color. As you stared at the costume, your mind began to wonder, thinking about all the shenanigans and by relation, danger he’d be getting into and you wouldn’t always be there.

You were set on the sidelines: No powers, only your mind to help him. You knew he was smart and wouldn’t purposefully get himself in deep trouble but yet, you still worried. 

And your worrying was for the best.

There was now a-

“Hole in our universe.”

A hole in your universe.

“Pav, sweet sweet, Pav,” you held your phone closer to your ear, “Why is there a god damn hole in our universe?” You yelled into your phone.

“Geez, don’t yell! Calm down, it’s being fixed and… I’m sorry.”

You were shocked. It wasn’t that Pavitr never apologized, it was that he never apologized without adding on why it wasn’t his bad.

“It’s- Pav, it wasn’t your fault. You are not responsible for other people’s actions.”

“I know, I know but I feel partially responsible: it’s my city. And there’s a hole in it.” 

“It’s being fixed, it’ll be okay.” 

A sudden knock on your window made you jumped and you turned in your chair to see him. You walked to your window and opened it. 

He tumbled in and slumped to your bed, still in his Spider-Man suit. You sighed as you walked over and sat beside his face down figure, “So is this a ‘Leave me alone for five minutes and bring me tea’ or a ‘I am just being dramatic’ ?”

“I am not dramatic!” He shouted at you. 

You just stared at him as he jerked his mask off, a very angry and hit look painted across his face. 

“You know what?” He stood up, “Forget it! You don’t know the half of it!”

“Oh what don’t I know?” You said, feeling yourself become annoyed.

“What it is to be an actual superhero!” 

It cut you deeper than it should’ve. There was just something about the way he said it that made you believe that he never thought you were more than his tailor and direction giver. 

Anger filled you, “Oh please!” How quickly could he forget that he would not have been able to do it without you. 

“You just don’t! And I don’t expect you to!” 

“No, I don’t get the easy part. I don’t get the powers and I don’t get the praise but I hope you can do it without me.”

He stared at you, eyes scanning your face, “I don’t have the easy part. I have to except the fact my life is written out for me.”

“Well, should be easy to live then, the reassurance that it will all be okay must be great!” You folded your arms across your chest. 

There was silence for a bit. 

“What do you mean without you?” 

“You said I wasn’t a real superhero,” you felt your anger subside, “And I got mad.”

He looked at you, “I am just… disappointed in what I now know my life will be like, it’s all already drawn out and I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“What will it be?”

“My uncle, and every other Spider-Man’s uncle, were already destined to die. So is a police investigator that I am close to.” 

You could’ve swore you saw tears form in his eyes, something that never clouded the face for your sunny spirited friend, “Every Spider-Man has a Gwen Stacy. Every Gwen Stacy falls in love with Spider Man.”

You picked up on what he meant, you walked to him and wrapped your arms around him and felt his body give slightly, sniffing and snuffling noises leaving him. “Every Spider-Man and Gwen Stacy can’t be together, can they?” 

He nodded yes, acknowledging that his young love was predestined to end. All you could do was hug him.

You thought about that all through the night. Mind drifting to how sad it must be. Suddenly something touched your foot. 

It was cold.

Slightly slimy.

And it was moving. 

With a shaky hand you pulled back the cover, revealing a crimson colored mass.

Before you could scream, it began to rise slightly off the bed and a pair of pearly white eyes with a light blue sheen came to the thing that was in your bed.

Fear filled you as words came from the creature.

“Hello.”

“Hi.” You all but whispered.

“Are you frightened?”

“Uh, yea, no offense but it’s not everyday a random blood looking creature appears in my room.”

“I am Toxin.”

“Is there something you need or what?”

“I can make you a superhero. You would want to help your friend, right?” Toxin remarked. 

“Okay eavesdropper, but how could you do that?”

“I just need your body. Then you will have all my powers.”

“Could I web swing?”

“We could try.”

“What’s the catch?”

Toxin laughed, “Smart, aren’t we? Well there is one. What you eat, I take half the nutrients. I use your body as a sort of home.”

“It won’t kill me, right?”

“No. What parasite intentionally kills their host?”

“You need a marketing class.” You sighed, “But I guess we could take one.”

“We could.” Toxin smiled widely. 

You extended your hand and Toxin climbed onto it, you shuddered slightly at the feeling, “How are you gonna get inside me?”

“Take a deep breathe.” 

You closed your eyes as you breathed in through your nose, feeling him slip in your nostril. It felt like when a doctor swabbed your nose to see if you had the flu. You choked slightly, feeling it drip down into your chest. Then the voice came.

“It’s nice in here.”

“Thanks?” 

“You’re welcome.” Toxin said, “Now, I request a sandwich.”

“PB & J?”

“Grape jelly.”

“Of course.”

Little did you know who was outside your window, having seen the encounter between you and the alien. It was Pavitr. His watch chimed.

“Canon Event Successful. Continue your work.” 

[youngyoo-apologist]

I will never forget how like most of the TCF cast never got to have proper childhoods, OG!Cale, Kim Roksoo, Choi Han, Choi Jung-gun, Alberu, Ohn, Hong, Beacrox, etc

Like most of these guys were either

A. Fighting for their lives(Choi Han, CJG, Alberu, Ohn, Hong)

B. Actively on the path to self destruction(OG!Cale)

Or just like having an awful time in general. Like it’s really sad how for a long time, none of them could actually act or be like kids due to the environment they were in.

Alberu being royalty and having to hide things about himself, and probably avoid assassination and kidnapping attempts since he was young.

Kim Roksoo and how he lost his parents at a young age and was abused by his uncle.

Ohn and Hong having to run away because the Cat tribe mistreated them, and they had to survive on their own.

Choi Han being taken away from his family and fighting alone for over a century in the dark forest where he had no one but himself and the monsters that wanted him dead to keep him company.

Choi Jung-gun also being taken away from his family, and losing people who took care of him again, along with like living a thousand years going through who knows what + whatever the hell the god of death made him do.

Beacrox losing his entire family except his father when he was no older than fifteen, and immediately having to live on the run right after.

OG!Cale taking it upon himself to protect his family, and essentially destroying himself because he didn’t know what else to do.

I think about Ohn a lot, like the fact that she was what, nine, maybe ten years old when she had to run away with Hong and make sure they were both okay. The fact that she was protecting him and herself at the same time, the way that she couldn’t ever play around or have fun when she was growing up because she had to make sure they were both okay. She took on as much as she could for Hong because that’s her baby brother and she loves him more than anything.

OG!Cale and Ohn and like, how they both did everything they could for their younger siblings, ohhhhhhh I’m crying I’m crying I’m crying donnttt even look at me rn

Also Hong and Basen, like being the little brother who watches your older sibling take on burdens alone and you want to help but at the same time your your sibling tells you it’s okay and that you should just focus on yourself… When the trope is older sibling(or family figure in general) taking care of younger siblings and they make sacrifices for them, I’m not crying, what do u mean? I actually do not care. At all. Not . One. Bit.

ALSO LOCKKK , TBoaH Lock they could never make me hate you I don’t care if you were annoying, whiney and a coward, if I was you I would be annoying, whiney and a coward too… he’s just thirteen and he lost all his family, obviously he was too scared to go out of hiding, ANYONE would be scared, he was just a young boy and he lost everything. He found people who cared for him, but he lost the person who resembled his uncle and that’s really when his world fell apart. It must have felt like the whole world was against him, that Lock could never have any family ever again.

Like I can imagine he’d probably have this underlaying fear when it came to Choi Han and Rosalyn,

“what if I lose them too?”

Maybe he hated himself for being a coward, for hiding, for not doing anything… maybe he hated himself even more because when he lost Pendrick, he wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to stop cowering and hide when there’s danger. The battle between wanting to be cared for and protected because the world is just too much and wanting to fight back and help because he doesn’t want to lose anyone else

This just makes me think about TBoaH timeline more oh it’s so tragic and sickening I cried

[captainpulisic]

you've ruined my life by not being mine - m. mount

wrote this during a severe brain rot so I hope it isn't too mid, thank you to anyone who reads & I hope you enjoy :) word count : 4.4 k gif creds to owner

mason mount is absolutely gorgeous. nothing else to say, no need to elaborate. everyone who comes across him can confirm this. he’s a god amongst mere mortals, you’re sure of it. being an intern for chelsea's social media team, you have had the privilege of crossing paths with him several times a day. all these small interactions and polite ‘hellos’ have made you smitten. you’re positive that is the case for every girl who has the honour to be the winner of his attention.

you’ve come to the conclusion that he has a gift of making anyone he's talking to feel special. his eyes never leave yours, making it known that his attention is solely on you. the real killer is that smile of his. it’s very soft and boyish, with just a hint of shyness. as if he’s as nervous to talk to you, as you are to him. that bastard. how dare he make your cheeks go deep red and hands shake just by saying ‘have a nice day’. the audacity! 

he could be worn out from an extensive training session or surrounded by other important chelsea people, yet he’d always find a way to squeeze in a conversation with you. it was sweet of him, really. the fact that he was nice enough to make you feel so welcome to the family, like part of the team. he probably did it for everyone, yet it still made you feel special, nonetheless. 

mason was always going out of his way to make small talk with you, to ask how your weekend had been. he assured you that once you finished uni, he was positive the club would offer you a full time position. he’d confide that your ideas and content was the best, engaging everyone from fans to the players. 

‘why wouldn’t they try to keep the best when they already have them, yeah?’ he would assure you, squeezing your arm. you always felt you skin burning by the time he let go. 

you find yourself in that exact situation right now. 

after a particularly long week full of training, everyone was filing out of the locker room. freshly showered and exhausted, mason’s only mission in life was to get home and sleep for the next twelve hours. no agents or coaches or ‘after training, distress at a club’ plans will stop that. end of discussion.

he’s almost out the doors and into the parking lot.

well, that is until he sees you. you’re near the office doors, all smiles and cheerfulness as you talk to other people from the social media team. he’d never admit this to anyone but you have him quite smitten, too. one time he practically bumped into all his teammates when he saw you across the hallway. conor bitched to him for the next hour, annoyed at how he’d accidentally shoved him into a wall. he’d speed walk at an embarrassing pace, just to be able to say hello you, to be in your presence.  

as he approached your group, your co workers left you to face him by yourself. your small fangirl crush on him was a well known topic, since they swore he fancied you back. as if, you’d blush and wave them off. 

“hi,” he halted, ending his unusually fast pace. “hey, you.”

“to what do I owe the pleasure, mr mount?” you felt your grin go wide. you both laughed at the nickname. it was a recurring joke from when you had just started your internship, too starstruck and using only formal names to address the players. 

the first time you had been introduced to mason, you had addressed him as ‘mr. mount’. you were scared and confused when he started to turn around and look at all the people passing behind him. you weren’t sure what you had said wrong. 

“oh, ‘m sorry. I heard mr. mount and immediately thought my dad was here. please, call me mason.”

you had been a giggling mess since then and even now, you always found yourself laughing around him. on masons side, he heard your laugh that first encounter and vowed to himself he’d do anything to keep hearing it. 

“I just wanted to let you know that a bunch of us are going to a club tonight,” he didn’t even know what he was saying until he had already said it. his tired limbs were yearning for his bed but his y/n crazed brain overpowered him. the chance to see you outside of the bridge was such a sweet opportunity he couldn’t pass up. “come, please?”

you had never really been invited to those club or party hangouts, they were mostly reserved for the players and their girlfriends. you’re a bit stunned, you thought he’d come over to ask you if he had to do any reshoots for last week's youtube video. 

you’re both silent, waiting for your own response. your face is crimson red and he’s nervously tapping his foot. it doesn’t help that you can’t even make eye contact with him, too shy to look at his face. you’ve always found it hard to say anything directly to his pretty face. of course you want to go but you don’t want to make this into something bigger than it is. you don’t want to get your hopes up that this might be a step into seeing each other in a non work environment, like a pregame for a date?

no. what if he’s just being polite and this is a work get-together? what if he’s mistaken you with a different y/n, a cooler famous y/n?

before you can even choke out an answer, you notice a goddess type woman approaching the two of you. she’s wearing an all-access visitor pass around her neck and walking with the confidence of someone who owns the place. and her heavy gaze is set upon mason. she’s truly beautiful, like someone you’d see on the runway or a vogue cover. in a totally progressive and feminist way, you don’t like how much skin she’s showing. at least not when you’re forced wear such workplace appropriate attire, anyway. it makes you green with envy on how she looks like someone more fit for mason. now that’s the type of woman he would be seen with at the club . 

“time to go home, mason?” she sounds sweet, too sweet. hearing her delicate voice call mason makes your skin crawl and heart plummet.

he quickly gravitates all of his attention on her, giving her a nod. as soon as he’s in arms reach, her delicately manicured hand is wrapping around his foreman. she doesn’t even spare you a glance. she begins to pull him away from your shared spot, causing your mood to significantly dampen. 

“y/n,” mason says, pulling you out of your self wallowing thoughts. he’s giving you that award winning, boyish smile. “you’ll be there tonight, right?”

his tone is so soft and sincere. it warms your heart, even as that beautiful woman is clinging to his arm. 

you brave a fake smile, “i’ll try, mr. mount.”

he’s only able to smile in response, the probable supermodel eagerly tugging him out the door. you see her pull out keys from her purse, as he, ever the gentleman, opens the door for them.  

you feel a fool. mason is one of the most sought out men in the country. he’s sweet and handsome and funny and probably has a thousand girls at his disposal. your chances with him are next to zero. you’ve told yourself countless times to be content with the little attention you get from him. polite conversation and shy smiles is all you’ll ever get from him and that's totally fine. it has to be, anyway.

-

you’re stupid and idiotic. very stupid and idiotic. you knew you shouldn’t have showed up to the club, it wasn’t your place to be here. you weren’t even planning on actually showing, preferring to spend the night at your apartment, yearning for your unreciprocated crush on a certain footballer. yet, as you were heading out of the building for the end of the work week, you bumped into a couple of the other players. you had been too busy wishing it was you asking mason if he was ready to go home, you hadn’t heard them calling after you. 

all of the players were fond of you, fond of the cheeriness and lovely attitude you brought to the bridge. and you were equally as fond of them. so, when they asked if you wanted to join everyone else at the club, you said yes. you figured you’d make yourself miserable and see mason with his supermodel friend the entire night. yeah, you loved the pain.

being at said club now, you regret your decision. the music is too loud and the strobe lights are giving you a headache. everyone else has been nice enough with some small talk when passing by you, except for mason who was nowhere to be found. 

an hour passes by, and you’ve lost count of all the drinks you’ve taken. it’s pathetic to admit that all you’ve done is think of mason. how can someone so beautiful make you feel so sad? 

you finish the remnants of your drink and decide to head back home. coming here was a mistake and the original person who asked you to come didn’t even bother to show up. the bigger mistake though, is how you might have underestimated how many drinks you’d gone through in your short time here. you’re barely out of the main room and in the lobby when your vision begins to get blurry. your balance is wobbly and you’re quickly reaching to support yourself against a wall.  

you’re not sure how long you’re in that position. trying to somewhat sober up, you wonder how difficult it’d be to go back into the main room and find one of the players to help you. 

would you even be able to recognize any of them? you were royally screwed.  

your train of thought is broken when you see someone on the other end of the room relentlessly pacing. you’re only able to make out their moving outline, they look nervous. you disoriented state only hears them mumbling, as if they were talking themselves up.

it endears you. it reminds you of mason, you’ve caught him doing the same before any big game. come to think of it, the figure looks a lot like masons. same build and same pretty hair at the top of their head. plus, the jacket they’re wearing looks a lot like the one you once told mason you loved. that was months ago, though. surely he hadn’t remembered you’d said that. 

wait.

it is mason.

mason. 

oh.

oh.

he sees you right after, his pacing coming to an abrupt stop. not having noticed your intoxicated state, he’s quick to approach you. “y/n?”

your brain isn’t on your side tonight. your mouth speaks the first words that come to mind, “hey there, gorgeous.”

“hi, love.” his smile is instant as his gaze fixes upon your face. He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he’s always had. you adored his beautiful prince like hair. it looks as it had been perfectly styled at one point, now it was disheveled from endless tugging and fixing. he frowns when he realises you’re leaning next to the exit door. “are you leaving? I was just heading in there to see you.”

instead of responding, you try to take another step towards the exit. this is too much for you. on a good day, you’re barely able to handle being in his intoxicating presence. in your current state? you can feel him taking up every atom and particle surrounding you.

you stumble and his reflexes are quick to hold you up. as if this is a regular occurence, your hands instantly find their way onto his chest.

oh my god, you scream in your head. mason mount has his hands wrapped around my waist. my skin is burning where he’s touching me, please never let go. 

“i’m okay, i’m okay,” you mumble. 

“having too much fun, yeah?”

you’re tempted to lie to him. you want to tell him that you had the best night of your life without him, that you hadn’t even noticed his absence. you want to tell him that you drank too much because you were having too much fun with other guys. 

you’re tempted to tell him the truth, too. you want to tell him that you were having the worst night of your life, that you drank to forget that he was probably having fun with his supermodel girlfriend. you want to tell him that it should be you asking him if he’s ready to go home, after a long day of work. while you’re at it, you think of telling him that his face is so infuriatingly gorgeous that it’s all you ever think about.

would he even care?

you feel dizzier with the way he’s looking at you with those pretty, concerned eyes. mason has always had a knack for making you blush with just a look but tonight it’s stronger. all you want to do is kiss him silly. these stupid feelings irk you, really. 

“stop looking at me like that!” you take your hands off his chest and your fingers immediately miss the contact. you lightly shove him, “god, you make me so fucking mad sometimes.”

now mason is confused. the corner of his mouth dips, “i’m sorry, love. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“oh, ‘i’m sorry, love. I don’t know what I did wrong’, bite me!” you try your best to copy his accent. you know you’re acting childish, but you can’t help it. common sense left you long ago and now is the only time you can tell him exactly how you feel. “you have no idea how infuriating you are.”

“y/n,” he tries to tilt your head up by your chin. “look at me.”

“please stop, i’m begging you,” you whine. you know you resemble a spoiled child, but you’re on a roll. “don’t you know its actually impossible to look at you? your face is so pretty and I never know what to say when you look at me and you’re always looking at me. can you imagine what that does to me?”

“yeah, well how do you know i’m always looking at you?” he muses. “that’d have to mean you’re always looking at me, too.”

at this point, mason finds the situation very entertaining. he can’t help but laugh. he had arrived at the club twenty minutes ago, trying to build up the courage to walk in there and find you. he still wasn’t even sure if you’d shown, never have given him a real answer. being ever the optimist, he was hopeful you’d be in there waiting for him. he had planned that tonight was the night he’d confess his feelings for you, that he’d ask you out on a proper date.

fear of rejection got the better of him and he had psyched himself out. so, there he was. pacing back and forth, working up the courage to walk into the main room and tell you that he was crazy for you. he was just hoping you felt the same way, that you’d give him a chance. 

the possibility of finding you drunk out of your mind, babbling about how pretty you found his face, had never crossed his mind. this was way better than him stuttering out his feelings for you. mason could spend the entire night in this position, longer, if it meant more time next to you. he’s not cruel, though. he knows he’d be proper embarrassed if the roles were reversed, he doesn’t want you to regret whatever drunken thing you say to him. plus, if you’re going to call him pretty, he wants you to be sober for it. “hey, lets go home, yeah?”

hearing those words are like a trigger to you, a switch that releases the impending dam of tears in your eyes. why can’t he tell you those words under different circumstances? 

“stop,” you’re sputtering out. “this is hurting me too much.”

he lets go of your waist right away, leaning you back against the wall. you miss his touch immediately. “what is? do you want to stay?” 

continuing your drunk tantrum, “you don’t get it!”

“y/n, help me understand.” he’s trying his best to wipe the tears on your cheeks but you’re shaking your head too much. you refuse to look at him, he’s desperately trying to meet your eyes. “what don’t I get?”

“that this is all your fault,” your tears can’t stop. you hate how you can hear yourself slurring your words. “you made me feel this way!”

“what way?”

you make dramatic arm gestures of the space between the two of you, “this way, idiot!”

mason is more confused than ever. nonetheless, he surrenders and apologizes for making you feel ‘that way’. you’re too distracted repeating a slurred ‘you should be’, that you don’t notice that he’s steered you out of the club and to his car. 

“c’mon along now, love.” mason isn’t sure how the night is going. on one hand, he’s with you and that's all he’s wanted for the longest time. on the other hand, he’s not having the easiest time trying to unlock the passenger's seat, while simultaneously making sure you don’t stumble onto the pavement. one things for sure, he’s not complaining on how you’re holding onto his arm for dear life. plus, you keep whispering something into his ear, and it keeps making him blush. 

gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous.

you don’t stop repeating the word to him, as if it's a secret only the two of you could know. you whisper into him once more, as he finally opens the car door and places you inside. the long, eventful night had started to take a toll on your body, your body lazily slumped into the passenger's seat. 

“you really do have a pretty face,” you whisper. you’re much more calm now and the tears have stopped. even in your state, the bittersweet thoughts won’t stop. he has the prettiest face you’ve ever seen, he’s the sweetest boy you’ve ever met. but he’s not yours, he’s someone else's. before the tears can return, you’re distracted because you have to tell him his face is beautiful but you had been using a different word seconds ago. what was it? its at the tip of your tongue. “it’s like… what's the word? what word was I saying?”

he spares you a quick glance as he buckles your seatbelt. teasingly, “gorgeous?” 

“yeah,” you lazily smile. it’s the last thing you say before the sound of the engine lulls you to sleep, “it’s gorgeous.”

-

the headache is already making you wish you were dead as soon as you open your eyes. before you can tell yourself off for drinking way more than you should’ve, you begin to panic.

this is not your bed.

this is not your room.

that is not your glass full of water on the nightstand that is not yours. 

you’re definitely going to scream when you look down and find yourself adorning a large, unfamiliar shirt and shorts. even though you can’t see yourself, you’re sure your face is red with embarrassment. 

please don’t tell me I hooked up with some rando, you silently beg any god that will listen. 

in this scenario, you’d usually pick up your clothes and sneak out before getting caught but, where the hell are your clothes? and whos fucking house is this? 

stumbling into the hallway, you feel as disoriented as you did when you left the club last night. you wish you could remember who you left the club with, too. 

finding your way through the maze of this large house, you come face to face with some picture frames decorating the wall. the face you see in these frames makes you wish it was actually some random guy house you were in. instead, you’re greeted by mason-fucking-mounts framed and pretty face. 

you hear him before you actually see him. you hear a commotion from the other end of the hallway. you’re tempted to turn around and find the exit instead of facing him. you don’t know what happened last night and you’d rather not find out. 

alas, your feet involuntarily move towards the sound and you’re met with mason sitting on his sofa. the television is on but you can faintly hear him mumbling to himself. his leg is nervously bouncing, and his eyes never waver from the clock on the wall opposite of you. unsure of what to do, you clear your throat. 

you fear he’ll get whiplash from how quickly he turned his head.

“oh, you’re awake,” mason motions you to come closer to him, a smile appearing on his face. he reaches for your arm, pulling you down to sit next to him. he points at the two mugs on the centre table, “I made you some tea, did you drink the water I left you?”

“mason, what happened last night?” you don't know why you’re whispering, but you are. unconsciously, you tug the hem of his oversized shirt you’re wearing. 

“oh, no no no,” he begins to sputter out. “we didn’t do anything, don’t worry!”

you’re only slightly disappointed. 

mason continues, “I think you had too much last night, you were pretty out of it when I saw you.”

you can’t meet his eyes, “oh god, i’m so embarrassed.”

“don’t be!” he’s quick to reassure you. “you said some pretty great stuff when I bumped into you but still, better not to leave you alone, ‘figured you’d need help leaving so I decided to help you home. I didn’t actually know your address so I brought you here. I left you to change by yourself and I slept on the couch, don’t worry.”

“oh,” you look away from him. “i’m sorry, I bet your girlfriend didn’t like that you left her to help me. sorry for ruining your night.”

“girlfriend?” he looks more puzzled than you look sheepish.

this is the last conversation you want to be having, especially hungover. you look down at the floor. “yeah, that stunning supermodel who drove you guys ‘home’ yesterday.”

the bastard has the nerve to laugh at this. seeing your not-so-pleased face, the laugh turns into an awkward cough. “sheryl isn’t my girlfriend. she’s part of the new partnership promotion, shouldn’t you know that? didn’t your team arrange everything?”

your answer without missing a beat, “we didn’t have any involvement in it, ‘above our paygrade or something’. i’d never seen her before.”

“oh, well she’s just part of the campaign, she’s not my girlfriend. the only reason she drove me home was because my car broke down at the film set and she offered to drive me to the bridge and home afterwards. she’s nice but ‘m not interested in her like that.” your heart had just mended a smidge but it was cracking all over again when mason added, “plus, I fancy someone else.”

“cheers.” you give him your best half assed smile. of course he had his heart set on someone, you should be happy for him. it’s not like you ever really had a chance, you’re only hoping you hadn’t said anything too incriminating last night. its better if you leave right now, with what dignity you have left, and act as if none of this ever happened. you can go back to polite conversations at the bridge and he can pine over his crush. you can only imagine how stunning she is. if mason wasn’t falling onto his knees for the goddess that sheryl was, this other girl must be aphrodite herself. 

“yeah,” mason is fully grinning now. “she’s just the best person. I don’t think she knows how stupidly obsessed I am with her, I do anything I can just for the chance to talk to her and be around her. I used to be too scared to make a move, because I didn’t think she’d feel the same.”

she’s an idiot if she doesn’t, you miserably think. 

mason rambles on, “I think all my mates know how I feel. i’m sure they’re just waiting for me to tell her, so they don’t have to hear me talk about ‘how pretty she looked today’ anymore. I say she looks pretty but I think there's a better word.”

you can only smile in return, not trusting your voice to congratulate him on this gem he’s found.

“you know,” mason cracks a smile, “i think she’s just so gorgeous.”

“what did you just say?” your eyes snap up to meet his. hearing him say those words trigger blurbs of last night to come back to you. you remember the drinking and the crying and the tantrum and repeatedly calling mason gorgeous. now you’re certain you’ll have to disappear off the face of the earth. shaking your head, “oh god, are you making fun of me?”

“of course not.” mason is in utter disbelief. is he not being clear enough? “christ y/n, are you really going to make me get on my knees? it’s you, i’ve been crazy for you for so long. I wasn’t sure if you felt the same but i’m hoping last night was some indication that you do.”

you can’t believe a word you’re hearing. now you’re sure you drank too much last night and got alcohol poisoning. you’re probably laying in the hospital and having these deluded fantasies of mason saying he fancies you. that is the only way this can be happening. 

“y/n, love.” his smile never falters but you can hear the anxiousness in his tone. here he was, being vulnerable and wearing his heart on his sleeve. he was just waiting for you to do the same for him. he was waiting for you to do what you’ve been doing for months now. what you both had been doing, just secretly and shyly. he reaches out to squeeze your hand, “please say something.”

you’re sure you might start crying again. happy tears this time. “god mason, of course I like you. my heart has been yours, pathetically and desperately and always.”

he doesn’t respond, choosing to finally kiss you instead. it’s better than either of you could have imagined, and you know his heart is yours just as much as yours is his.

authors note 2.0 : if I had a nickel for every time I wrote a mason fic where its an unrequited love and he confesses that he loves reader after reader sees him w some girl, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but its still weird that it happened twice (idk im predictable ig)

[leighsartworks216]

hello i love your work, i check the collection on ao3 every morning like a newspaper haha. it astounds me how much you're able to write in such a short time. i also have a request. what are ur thoughts on this as tav and astarion (tav being the sleeper, astarion being the insomniac)

https://twitter.com/sevspam/status/1706371876367503693?s=46

I don’t have the right brain rn to write a full story out of this (fighting off the Enola Holmes hyperfixation omfg) but here’s some random hcs/thoughts. This is set after the end of the game (no spoilers or anything) if y’all decided to live in the city or smth idk, just above ground

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 556

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

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You always try to sleep in

Always

And you always try to keep him with you when you do

He’ll meditate or sleep for his 4 hours (if he’s lucky enough to avoid nightmares) and just be laying there until morning, cuddling you

And then he’ll get restless as the sun rises, but the moment he tries to slip away, you’re wrapped around him like a vice

And no matter how long you keep him imprisoned there, you’re still utterly exhausted when you get up

When you were traveling across Faerûn, he thought it was just because of all the fighting and adventuring

But no

You’re just always tired

You probably take a nap on the couch in the afternoon, and he’s there with your head or feet in his lap as he works on something, or he’s straight up squeezing in to lay with you

If he doesn’t go to bed with you immediately, you have to go retrieve him

He’ll put off sleep at night for as long as possible, especially if his mind is being cruel to him

You’ll find him hunched over his embroidery or nose-deep in a book, and you’ll lean over the back of the couch and hug him from behind

If he doesn’t get to a stopping point fast enough, you’ll fall asleep just like that

Gods, how many times he’s had to carry you back to bed just because he’s too stubborn

You both have deep bags under your eyes

Both of you kissing under the others’ eyes as a cute little thing <333

If there’s a sun beam on the floor, and you happen to walk through it, oh boy he will find you on the floor taking a nap

He would move you somewhere more comfortable, but he doesn’t want to get burned, so he simply rolls his eyes and moves on

He does love it when you wake up from your sun beam nap and hug him, because he can feel the lingering warmth clinging to you

Sometimes he’ll have a nightmare late at night and cling tightly to you to ground himself

And he feels bad for it, but you’ll wake up, all bleary-eyed and slow-brained, and you’ll rub patterns into his lower back and pet his hair

You actively fight against going back to sleep just to stay up and comfort him

If he can’t calm down as easily, you’ll get up with him and make yourself coffee or a very strong tea to keep you sort of awake

Lots of late night convos during these moments

You sitting on the couch with your back against the armrest and Astarion spreading out along the length with his head in your lap

Or like laying on his stomach and pressing his face against your belly with his arms wrapped around your back

Oh yeah that’s the shit

You’ll always fall asleep before him, but he loves listening to your even breathing

He’d probably be annoyed if you snore at first

But then it grows on him and becomes too endearing

Honestly he probably gets so adjusted to it and so subconsciously tuned to it, that if you ever stop snoring just randomly in the middle of the night for whatever reason, he’s awake and just trying to figure out why tf he’s awake wtf

---

Tag List:

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[generational-atrophy]

Nice blog! You wouldn't mind if I took a little chomp out of it yeah? :D

Mmmmm can I request France,Germany,England, Prussia and Russia with an s/o who really likes there accent and voice. S/o would listen to them talk all day just to hear there voice/accent? There just mesmerized by it.

Much appreciated partner and have a great day🙏🙏‼️‼️🔥🔥⁉️⁉️🪑🪑🪑🪑

(France, Germany, England, Prussia & Russia x Reader) S/O that loves their accent!

(Gender Neutral) Headcanons ~ A/N have fun eating my blog but beware. Theres poison sometimes :)

Trigger Warning: None, just fluff!

Oh, you do not need to tell him that. He knows. And he adores how obsessed you are with just his voice. Don’t worry, he won’t tease you too bad

But expect to be woken up a couple of times by him reading you love poems in French. Actually, he’s doing that all the time. Anytime that he can speak to you in French, he’s doing it.

“My beautiful language for a beautiful person, no?”

It’s also pretty obvious that he exaggerates his accent for you. Sure, he’s been speaking English for centuries, but you’d never guess that from how he talks to you. It’s a little childish, but he just can’t get enough of your face whenever he says anything even remotely romantic in that silky voice of his.

Whenever he catches you staring, he can’t do anything but grin, promising himself that he’ll spoil you sometime soon for being so cute.

Ludwig has never really liked his own voice that much, so at least someone does for him. He always complains it’s too harsh and too loud. And years of people judging him for his accent didn’t help that…

But he trusts you completely. If you say you want to hear him, he’ll talk as much as you want. But since you’re not giving him a prompt, you’re hearing about 1870s train logistics. He doesn’t make the rules.

He would try to be all affectionate and sweet like you want him to… but that is really not his forte. He tries! But you’ll just both end up blushing and stuttering and getting nothing done then. If it’s just his handsome accent you want though, you’re all good. He can make a manual on building an IKEA chair sound hot.

He’d rather hear YOU ramble than do so himself. Even if he does love how adorable you are when you’re so infatuated with him.

No surprise there. You’re not the first partner of his to love his voice, and you won’t be the last. Luckily that means he’s got a whole lot of experience, so he knows exactly what to say to melt your heart.

“Come on, Darling, don’t look at me like that.  Why don’t we get out of here, just me and you? How about that, Love?”

He’s not much for rambling, much less talking about himself, but he can absolutely fulfil your need for his voice elsewhere. A lot of your nights spent together will be him reading some ancient novel to you, his voice soothing as ever, until you inevitably fall asleep cuddled up next to him.

He must admit, he loves having that power over you. Being able to make you fall in love with him using nothing but his words? You’re just so cute, he can’t resist flustering you on purpose.

Well, of course you do! He’s spent centuries making sure he sounds hot as hell! But… you’re being serious right? You aren’t annoyed by how high-pitched he can get? Ok, thank god.

He is so excited once you tell him that. It’s hard to stop himself from immediately teasing you about it. After all, there isn’t a single sight that’s cuter to him than your pretty face all lost in love for him.

If you’re ever feeling down, he tries to distract you by simply telling you a long, overly complicated story from his past. Which, with those purple eyes fixed on you and a goofy smile plastered across his face, all the while his voice drips with accent, it’s hard to not get distracted.

He loves talking about himself anyway. It’s a good thing you like hearing him. Most people don’t. But that’s just what makes you two meant to be <3

Oh, you like his voice? He’s confused. You’re being serious? … why?

The poor guy is really insecure about his voice. He worries his accent is too strong, too ugly, and his voice is way too high-pitched. It seems like no one likes when he talks… they say he’s rude and weird. So… your adoration for him and how he speaks is a real shock.

Whenever you ask him to talk more, he gets all embarrassed and doesn’t know what to say! Especially if you compliment his accent, then he just freezes up and dismisses you. Anywhere you are, he’ll start talking all quietly and cover his face with his hands. But you can still see him blushing underneath them…

But once he’s used to it, he loves just narrating the things he’s doing. Sometimes you’ll wake up and come downstairs to see him coming up with some silly song about the breakfast he’s cooking you. Learning that you like hearing him has definitely made him include stuff like that in his daily routine. 

Plus, now when he wants a reaction out of you… he’ll lean into it. Rolling his r’s dramatically, whispering to you in Russian… when he wants to be, he’s quite a tease.

[rabidaly]

Ok one more update from a shark in the water? Please???

Here’s the first 1k(roughly)! Keep in mind I haven’t edited and I had like. A three-month long writers block for this fic so I’m not super attached/happy with this intro— it may change when I go back next weekend!

Hopefully it’s enough to wet your appetite tho ;)

—

Stiles had friends.

Lydia was his friend. Erica. Danny and Kira danced the line between acquaintance and actual friendship, but gun to his head, Stiles would count them as the latter. And Scott. God knows they'd been inseperable for over a decade.

It's just—

Stiles didn’t text his friends the way he texted Derek.

Or as often.

It wasn’t anything serious. Just lots of little, trivial things: pictures here and there, Stiles blinking doe eyes at the camera, biting his lip. He texted Derek about his annoying professor, the chronological order of the Marvel movies, his attempts at latte foam art. Stiles rambled and vented and altogether talked too much, but—

Derek always answered.

Even if it was a simple, one-word reply. Even if sometimes it took a couple hours. Stiles wasn’t sure he’d have been able to stop even if he didn’t; every little thing that popped into his head came with the companion thought of, oh! I wonder what Derek would think about this!

ive never seen you play a video game, he texted on Thursday evening.

I don’t. What are you playing?

COD

with scott

R u home?

At the gym.

Stiles had figured as much, but he still caught himself sighing. They were in the Hale-McCall living room, playing on Scott’s family Xbox, both sore and tired from their shifts at work. From his spot on the couch, Stiles could hear Peter humming in the kitchen, most likely prepping for dinner. Melissa was still at work.

And Derek was at the gym. Snooze.

how much can u lift? Stiles texted, before his character on screen ran into a wall and he had to put his phone down. Scott side-eyed him, hard.

Stiles caught the tail-end of Scott taking incoming fire before his phone buzzed again. He looked back down.

I can lift double your weight, easy, Derek had typed, cutting to the heart of the matter.

Stiles pinkened.

for how long?

For as long as it takes. Derek replied. it’s your endurance we need to work on, if anything.

Stiles could taste the sharp edge of Derek’s condescension on his tongue. Something inside him went molten-hot, liquified, like the liquid wax of a burning candle.

maybe you should take me to the gym with you, he typed, squirming at just the thought of it. Derek all sweaty, the graceful arch of spine, muscles flexing as he lifts himself. we could be workout buddies.

Would you wear leggings?

Stiles readjusted on the couch, his leg coming up against his chest.

in public? no.

but I could sit on you.

on your back. while you do push ups

A bit too daring. Stiles bit his lip when Derek didn’t respond. He focused back on the game, hoping to distract himself.

It didn’t help much.

Scott huffed, throwing down his remote when they both died.

“What is with you, man?”

“What do you mean?” Stiles said, peeking at his phone again. No new messages.

“I mean, you’re not even watching where you’re going. You just got us both killed!”

”I’m just—“ Stiles felt unreasonably grumpy. “Bored. Can’t we play something else?”

“Like what?”

Like Mario Kart, per Stiles’ suggestion. The best part about Mario Kart was that Scott was—

“Awful, man. Just terrible,” Stiles laughed as Scott swerved off the road, twisting his remote uselessly, as if that were going to do anything while he wasn’t holding down the gas. “Honestly, it’s embarrassing to watch. You should just stop. You’re bringing shame to your family name.”

“I used to beat you at every game!”

“Yeah, in like seventh grade.” Stiles shook his head. “How’s it feel, Scott? To have peaked in middle school?”

“I haven’t peaked, I’m just—“ Scott threw down the controller as the track completed, screen flashing the stats. Scott in tenth place, Stiles in first. Just like the last time. And the time before that. “Out of practice. God, screw this. I want to play Skyrim.”

“Skyrim is god-awful on the Switch.”

“Well, then, I’ll bring the PS4 down here.”

“But it’s single player,” Stiles scrunched up his nose. “I’m not going to just sit here like your girlfriend and pretend watching you play video games is interesting.”

Scott looked offended. “Allison isn’t pretending. She said she loves watching me play.”

Right.

“Sure she does.” Stiles rolled his eyes. "We can just put on a horror movie or something, play fuck, marry, kill." A weird little tradition of theirs, any time they break out the b-rate horror films.

"Which one do you wanna watch?"

Stiles shrugged, "You pick."

He checked his phone again. Sighed for the millionth time.

Scott noticed.

“Who are you texting?”

Fuck.

”No one important,” Stiles said quickly, and put his phone face down on the side table.

Scott stared at it. “Is that a new phone?”

”What? No.”

”It’s pink," Scott pointed out. "Your phone's not pink.”

Stiles really needed to get a case for the thing. “Okay,” he conceded. “It’s a new phone. I splurged.”

The reaction was immediate.

”Stiles! We’re supposed to be saving up for an apartment!” Scott shook his head. “You’ve got to stop spending money, dude.”

Scott was definitely right about that. Stiles might not have bought the phone, but he'd hardly saved a dime since he’d started his job. He’d been too busy buying— well. You know.

As if summoned by the thought of his underwear alone, Stiles' phone (finally, finally) buzzed. Stiles had moved before his brain had fully processed the sound, snatching his phone up from the table on reflex.

Stay put. I’ll be there in 10.

Stiles’ cheeks darkened to a fire-engine red. Uh-oh.

[augustghosts]

The Best Thank you

Tommy Miller x fem!reader

On that night in 2003, Tommy calls his girlfriend instead of Joel. 

(let's pretend the literal apocalypse doesn’t happen for this one, ok?) 

 I started writing this like a week ago before ep 6 and after seeing ep 6 I haven't been able to stop thinking about tommy fucking miller. Anyways, this ends kind of abruptly because i’m bad at endings lol. And this is the worst title ever, I couldn't think of one. Hope you enjoy <3

Warnings: 18+ so minors dni pls, not proofread so lmk if u spot any mistakes lmao. Lots of pet names. Established relationship, ppl in love n all that. Oral (f receiving), unprotected sex. Tommy defo whimpers btw.

Word count: 3.1k

“Shit!” She almost rolled her eyes at herself as she did the classic scramble around the bed in the dark for her phone. After a few seconds she grasps it, her eyes squinting as she looks over a number she doesn’t recognise. She considers not answering, it is midnight. But calls this late are usually important, right? Fuck it. 

“Hello?” She’s hesitant, but the sigh she lets out makes it sound like she’s annoyed. Tommy is nervous, he’s actually fucking nervous. After no answer from Joel, he didn’t know what else to do. He was well and truly fucked. He's leaning against a cold wall, the payphone is heavy in his hand - not as heavy as the stare the officer who’s watching him is giving him. He looks down at his boots instead and squeezes his eyes shut before replying. The sound of her voice immediately helped his situation. 

“Hey, honey!” He sounds a little too cheery, he honestly cringes at himself. He can’t tell if its the pure fucking anxiety he’s feeling because of this phone call or the alcohol. 

“Tommy? What’s wrong?” She sussed him out immediately, the sounds of his voice initially putting her at ease before she sensed the edge in it. God, he thinks, she’s so damn smart. And she knows him so well. He catches himself smiling at the just the thought of her, until he remembers where the fuck he is. 

“Yeah. I’m, uh - I'm okay.” Did he just stutter? This is one of those times he wished she didn’t have this kind of effect on him. 

“Okay?” She beckons him to continue, leaning over to her nightstand to flick the light on. Her room is illuminated revealing a pair of Tommy’s shoes by her door and some clothes he’d left there still thrown over the back of her chair. 

“Look, I'm - um.” Fuck, Tommy. Just say it. “I’m in jail.”

There’s a pause on the other end, a pause that’s a little too long and makes him think she’d hung up. He takes the phone away from his ear to glance at it, as if that would help.  Her voice is small when it finally comes through. “What?” 

“Did you actually not hear me or do you just want me to say it again?” He tries to joke. 

“Say it again.” Her voice is stern, it immediately shuts him down. 

“I’m in jail.” He sighs. 

There’s another pause before she asks: “Are you okay?”

His heart squeezes in his chest. He had expected a million sighs, a telling off or maybe even a dial tone ringing in his ear telling him she’d hung up on him. But no, of course she’s not like that. He knows that - she’s better than anyone he’d ever met. Of course his beautiful girl with her beautiful heart, who had just been woken up at midnight, was going to ask him if he was okay. 

“Yeah. I’m fine.” His voice is uncharacteristically small. 

“What happened?” 

“I don’t know. It's- you know I was at the bar and one of my buddies got into a fight and I was just helping him out. I think maybe I knocked the guy out, I don't know.” He does know. He did knock the guy out and honestly, he was pretty proud of it. But he doesn’t want to tell her that. 

“Oh, okay.” Honestly, she’s confused. Not sure why he was calling her, didn’t he have a brother? 

“Anyway, look baby, I'm sorry but I need you to help me out.” 

“How?” She asks. She’s sitting up now, and suddenly she doesn’t feel tired anymore. 

He sighs again, he really doesn’t want to be doing this. “Darlin’, I really am sorry but I need you to bail me out.” 

She’s silent again for a second, “Now?” 

“Yeah, it’s friday. If I don't get out tonight I'll be here all weekend.” He’s speaking faster now, he sounds like he’s panicking. Shit, is she really gonna do this? Of course she is. She sighs as she stands up. Tommy hears it and it makes his chest squeeze again, guilt flooding him as he speaks. “Please. I’m sorry.” 

“Which jail?” She asks - he tells her. A feeling of relief almost overtakes the guilt as he hears her shuffling around on the other end. 

“Okay.” She says, slipping her shoes on. “I’ll be there soon.” 

“Shit, thank you sweetheart. I’ll make it up to you.” He promises. She doesn’t respond - the line goes dead. Honestly, he feels like he’s getting mixed signals. Was she mad? Was she upset? He couldn’t tell. Fuck Joel for not answering.

Half an hour later she’s pulling up in front of the station. Her heart is beating faster than ever, maybe she should have left him here over the weekend. Taught him a damn lesson. She knows she doesn’t mean that, but she seriously considers it as she gets out of her car. The place is weirdly empty for a Friday night, a few people sitting on chairs in front of the desk. Only two people sitting behind said desk, she had expected it to be a lot crazier. Maybe the crazy is happening where Tommy is, somewhere in the back. In just a few minutes after a conversation at the desk Tommy is walking towards her. He looks more nervous than she’s ever seen him. His usual cocky and confident demeanor, which she loves so much, has been replaced by guilt and embarrassment. She stands with her arms crossed as she waits, watching as he’s handed back his phone and wallet. 

“Hey.” He says as he turns to her, he almost wishes he could go back inside. 

“Hi.” She replies, she turns and leaves. He follows, already going through an apology speech in his head. When they get outside she stops by her car, turning to face him. 

“Baby, look, I'm sorry. I-” He starts his speech but is cut off by her soft hands grasping his face. Her hands are warm on his cheeks and he brings his own hand up to rest on top of hers. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asks. He nods, his gorgeous brown eyes wide as he anticipates what she’s going to do next. She surprises him by leaning up to kiss him, pulling his head down to meet her lips. He sighs as she kisses him softly, his hands wrap around her middle - he pulls her as close as he can. He had been contemplating tonight being the end of this, all his worries that he had disappointed her melting away as he felt her smile against his lips. 

“You’re an idiot.” She mumbled against his skin as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. He mirrored the grin on her face as he pulled away from her, she was still holding his face lovingly. 

“I know.” He smirked. Shit, even after all this - a night of drinking, an apparent bar fight and a few hours in jail, he still looked gorgeous. 

“So, am I taking you home or?” She trailed off, stepping away from him and rounding her car to the drivers side. 

“Only if you’re coming with me.” 

“We’ll go to mine then. I have work in the morning.” She says, and that guilty feeling almost returns, but when he sees the smirk on her face, he mirrors it with the same amount of enthusiasm. 

When they enter her apartment, Tommy suddenly isn’t as nervous anymore. Alcohol still running through his veins and excited over the thought of getting to spend the night with his girl instead of in a fucking cell. She’s slipping her shoes off and placing her keys down on the shelf beside the door when he approaches her from behind, wrapping his arms around her - chin on her shoulder. 

“You’re my goddamn hero.” He jokes, mumbling the words against her skin as he nuzzled into her neck.

“Sounds like you were the hero tonight.” She whispers back, placing her hands over his and leaning back into him. He’s pressing kisses along her neck as he responds. 

“Yeah, and i got fuckin’ arrested for it.” 

She laughs loudly, turning in his arms to kiss him again. More passionately and messily than in front of the police station. His hands grip her hips tighter, one traveling down to knead at her ass. Her own hands push his button up off of his shoulders, leaving him in just his white shirt. God, he looked good today. She can feel his cock through the front of his jeans as his hand on her ass pulls her forwards into him.

“I gotta admit,” She pulls away from him, his mouth tries to follow hers but she grasps his hand, leading him to her room. “It is kinda sexy, Thinking about you winning a fight.” 

She decides that maybe he deserves a bit of a show after the night he’s had. He’s standing in the doorway watching her, his trademark smirk plastered onto his face as she slowly takes her shirt off - Tommy’s shirt, actually. Already braless from being woken up at midnight, the jacket she had thrown on top of his shirt has already been abandoned at the door. He couldn’t lie about noticing her nipples through her shirt as she’d taken the coat off earlier. He makes a show of crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame, the smirk now turned into a grin. One that she's mirroring as she unbuttons her jeans and slowly slides them down her legs. His eyes follow, once they trail over her hips and legs he decides he can’t take it anymore. Having her standing in front of him in nothing but panties is not how he thought this night was going to end. 

“Fuck, baby.” His voice is noticeably deeper now as he comes to her, gripping her hips so she's against him. Her bare chest pressed against his clothed one. “I’m gonna give you the best thank you you’ve ever had.” 

And with that, he crouches down to haul her up into his arms - her legs wrapping around his waist as she laughs above him. He presses a quick kiss to her lips before dropping her down onto the bed. It’s his turn to put on a show now as he rids himself of his own shirt. He kneels in front of her and presses a kiss to her ankle before grabbing them both and using them to haul her towards the end of the bed. His mouth is inches from her pussy and she sighs as she feels him pressing kisses up her legs. He’s always been a tease, he lives for the sounds she makes. He loves to see her squirm. And squirm she does as he begins to slowly suck and bite the skin on her thighs. 

“Tommy.” She sighs his name and tugs on his hair and he swears his cock twitches in his jeans. “Please touch me.” Fuck, the effect she has on him is insane. He wants nothing more than to rip the denim off of his legs and fuck her into the matress, but he knows what she needs. And he will always give it to her. He presses one last kiss to her stomach before sliding her panties down her legs and throwing them behind him. 

“You’re so pretty, baby.” He whispers, just inches away from where she needs him. He used his thumbs to part her lips, a groan leaving his lips as he leaned in and dragged his warm tongue down the length of her. She sighed above him, her hands still holding onto his hair. He focuses on her clit, his tongue drawing tight circles over the nub. After a couple of strokes he closed his mouth around it, sucking gently. 

“Shit, Tommy.” One of her legs lifted around his shoulder, her heel pushing him further towards her. He smiled against her, he loved pleasing her. She always thought about how lucky she had gotten with Tommy.  A man who knows what he’s doing, and loves to do it. After playing with her clit for as long as she could take he pulled away. A beautiful smile on his face as he watched her squirm, her hands grasping his shoulders trying to push him back down. 

“You wanna come for me, gorgeous?” He asked, breathless. 

“Please.” She nods enthusiastically, just as breathless as him. “Please make me come!”

“Whatever you want princess.” He smirks, bringing his mouth back down to her pussy. His lips closed around her clit once more. He brings a hand up underneath his mouth, a single finger tracing her entrance before pushing inside. He moans against her when he feels how wet she is, adding another finger. She’s whining above him, moaning his name and pulling on his hair and he thinks about how he could definitely come like this. Shit, he has before. He fucks her with his fingers exactly the way he knows she likes, his tongue continuing to dance on her clit until she closes her thighs around his head. 

“Oh fuck, Tommy!” She moans loudly, neither of them have time to think about her neighbors right now. “I’m gonna come.” 

He continues what he’s doing as she grips harder on his hair, her legs closing tightly around his shoulders as she arches her back as she comes. He watches her face, she always looks so gorgeous like this. He fucking loves it. He fucking loves her. He keeps going until she's giggling breathlessly and pushing him away. He sits up, kneeling at the bottom of the bed between her legs, pressing one last kiss to her thigh before standing up and ridding himself of his jeans. She whimpers when she sees just how hard he is. He looks gorgeous as he stands above her, his cock flushed and leaking. He climbs on top of her to kiss her messily, her wetness still around his mouth as he pushes his tongue inside of hers. 

“How do you want me?” She whispers against his lips. 

“Fuck, turn around sweetheart.” He’s grinning at her as she follows his instructions. Turning around onto her stomach and leaning on her elbows. He takes a hold of her hips, pulling her ass up so he can get a view of her dripping pussy. “God I can't wait to fill you up, you ready for me?” 

“I’m always ready for you.” She smiles at him over her shoulder. He groans at her words, realizing he cant wait any longer, he takes a hold of his throbbing cock and lines himself up to her glistening hole. They both moan as he pushes in, her warm walls welcoming him as they squeeze him in. 

“So fuckin’ tight.” He whimpers as he begins to set a pace. “God, i fuckin’ love your pussy.” 

She feels like his words make her more wet, if that's even possible. 

“I love your cock, Tommy.” She moans as he fucks her slowly, holding himself back. He wants to enjoy her, but her heavenly cunt makes it so difficult. “Please, make me feel good.” 

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I'm gonna.” He says through gritted teeth. He always does, but she loves to tease him. And she knows how much he loves to hear her beg for him. He continues to fuck her like this, picking up his pace eventually when she begins to whine for him to go faster. She breathes his name as his cock begins hitting just the right spot, her hands tightening around the bedsheets - needing something to hold on to. Her chest pressed up against the bedsheets, her body being thrust forward as Tommy fucks into her, adds deliciously to the stimulation. He knows her so well, he can feel when she's getting close. Her silky walls tighten around him, her hands clenching and unclenching as her back arches more. Her whines of his name becoming higher in pitch. He’s close too, so with a smack to her ass that makes her yelp he pulls out. She doesn’t have time to process as he turns her over climbing over her again to kiss her. She moans against his mouth, his soft lips and tongue mixing with her own. Her legs wrap around his body as he pushes into her again. Immediately setting a bruising pace, both of them too close to care. 

“You gonna come for me baby? Yeah?” He eggs her on as she nods, desperately. “Come on baby come around my cock. Let me feel it.” 

The sight of her reaching down to play with her clit as she comes undone beneath him is enough to do it for him. 

“Where do you want it?” He hisses. He knows the answer, but he always asks anyway. 

“Come inside me Tommy. I wanna feel you.” He practically whimpers her name as he empties inside of her. She pulls his face down towards her again, wanting to hold him close. He bites into her shoulder as she whimpers in his ear, still coming down from her own high. Both of them enjoying the feeling of him filling her pussy up. 

“Holy shit.” She murmurs. A drowsy smile on her face as she plays with his hair until he eventually lifts his head from her shoulder. He laughs before pressing a kiss to her cheek. He sits up, pulling out of her and biting the inside of his cheek as he watches his come drip out of her. 

“I love you.” She says, reaching for him again. 

“I love you more.” He smiles as she pulls him down for a kiss. “You gotta sleep, not long until you need to get up for work.” 

“Yeah,” She agrees, still trying out her breath. She stands up to make her way to the bathroom and stops at the door to say: “A long night of being a hero.” She hears him laugh from the bed as she shuts the bathroom door, her legs still slightly wobbly and tingling. He definitely kept his promise, the best damn thank you she’d ever had. 

[trashywritestrash]

Deserve It

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8K

Warnings: ANGST, some physical violence (reader’s wrist is grabbed, reader shoves someone), domestic violence, eddie is an asshole, degrading but not in a sexy way, crying, lots of swearing, self-sabotaging behavior, alcohol use, drug use, like one tiny moment of tough love from Wayne?, it’s a lot of warnings and I honestly might be missing some so if you’re worried you might not be able to handle this please don’t try it

A/N: I know the title sounds a lil ominous but I would like to preface this by saying that there is NO VICTIM BLAMING HERE. We don’t pull that shit in this house

gif by thehumming6ird

You’re friends with Eddie Munson. Steve and Robin will never understand why or how, but he makes you happy, so they quietly accept that fact. But beyond that, you like Eddie Munson. That confession really threw your two co-workers for a loop, but again, they quietly accepted it and listened while you talked about him.

“Eddie and I hung out at his place last night and he forced me to watch the first Star Wars movie and it actually wasn’t that bad. We’re gonna watch the next one tonight. I have to try to remember to stop and get some snacks before I go over so we have something to munch on—“

“Oh my God, Y/N! Could you be any more in love?” Robin groans, tired of hearing both of her friends talk about their crushes and their love lives. “Just tell him already before I lose what little sanity I have left!”

Steve laughs at your pout and Robin’s dramatics. “As much as I hate to agree with Robin—“ The girl in question slaps his arm, causing him to hold his arm with a dramatic gasp. “Rude! As I was saying, you should tell him how you feel. From everything you’ve told us, he clearly likes you. You’ll just have to be the one to man up and say it first.”

“But what if you’re wrong and he doesn’t like me?”

“Then he’s an idiot and you come over and we eat ice cream and watch movies while you cry.” Now it’s Steve’s turn to hit Robin’s arm. “Hey! I’m being honest!”

You crack a grin at your friend's antics and go to say something, but an older woman steps into the store. Robin gives you a look that says ‘this isn’t over’ while you quietly wait for the woman to find what she’s looking for. Only a minute or two later, she comes up to the counter with a friendly smile. You make polite conversation while you ring her up and spot Robin smirking from the corner of your eye.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but do you think you could help us settle a debate?”

The woman laughs but plays along. “Sure. What about?”

Robin grins as she starts to explain your situation to this stranger, “Our friend Y/N here has a crush on her best friend. We are positive that he likes her back, but he’s too scared to make a move. We’ve been trying to convince her that she should just tell him, but she keeps refusing. Do you think she should?” Robin finishes while you groan. Now she’s bringing customers into your silly crush situation? Where does it end?

You go to apologize, but the woman just smiles at you. “I think you should talk to him. You’re young and pretty. He must care for you if you’re close friends. He’d be silly not to. Take it from me; I confessed to my crush when I was about your age.”

“And what happened..?” You ask hesitantly.

She grins, “I married him.”

Steve and Robin look at you expectantly and you sigh. “Fine, I’ll do it! But you two are buying the ice cream and renting Sixteen Candles if it ends badly!”

—————

Meanwhile, Eddie was sitting at the Hellfire table at lunch. Dustin was ranting about something, but Eddie had no clue as to what. He had tuned the freshman out a while ago.

“—Y/N obviously likes you!”

That caught his attention. “What are you going on about?”

Dustin sighs, annoyed that he has to repeat himself. “Y/N is, like, in love with you. Why else would she watch Star Wars? And ask to watch the second? I’ve been trying to get her to watch it for years, but she always says no!”

“That’s because you’re a twerp and you would talk through the whole thing,” Eddie argues, not believing Dustin.

“Dude, she buys you snacks! Even when you don’t ask! She buys the chips you like even though she thinks they’re disgusting! She makes goo-goo eyes at you when you’re not looking! Y/N likes you!”

Eddie frowns, “Shut it, Henderson. You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not about to take lady advice from a kid who has a fake girlfriend.”

The others laugh while Dustin angrily argues that Suzie is real and she’s hotter than Phoebe Cates. But Eddie zones out of the conversation to think about what Dustin said. It was like puzzle pieces were falling into place. The little shit was right; Y/N likes him. Eddie stood from the table without a word and left the cafeteria, then the school. He got into his van and sped off toward the trailer park. He needed something to help with this.

—————

Hours later, you finish your shift at Family Video. You excitedly stop at the party store on the way to Eddie’s trailer, picking up candy and Eddie’s favorite chips (that you hate). Ten minutes later, you knock on his door once before letting yourself in with a spare key. Eddie had given it to you a couple months back, claiming that when he’s smoking in his room he doesn’t hear the door. You assume he must not have heard you this time, but when you step in Eddie is sitting on the couch directly across from the door. He looks completely out of it. “Eddie? Are you okay?”

He doesn’t even look up at you. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. Do you still want to watch the movie tonight? We can do something else if you’re not feeling—“

“I said I’m fine!” Eddie raises his voice and you flinch. He doesn’t notice.

You get a good look at him and your heart drops. The whites of his eyes are now red, and even from a couple feet away, you can smell the alcohol on his breath. If you couldn’t smell it, you’d still see the half-empty bottle of whiskey that sits next to him. Not only has Eddie been drinking, but he’s also been smoking; you know that isn’t a good combination.

“No, you’re not. We need to get you some water and get you to bed.” You insist, trying to help.

This just makes Eddie mad. “Jesus Christ, Y/N! Are you deaf or just fucking stupid?! I said I’m fine!”

You should leave. You should run out of the door now and not look back. But you don’t. “What happened?”

“What happened?” Eddie chuckles, but it sounds wrong. There’s a darkness in it, tainting the sound that you love. “What happened is that I found out my best friend has been keeping secrets from me.” You look confused so he keeps going, “You like me, huh? Have a stupid little schoolgirl crush on the big bad freak? What do you really want? You wanna whore yourself out and run around, tell people you fucked the freak?”

The embarrassment you feel about him knowing you like him is overshadowed by your fear. This isn’t Eddie, this is someone else entirely. “Eddie, you know that’s not what I want. You’re not acting like yourself right now.”

“You don’t know me, Y/N! This is me!” He steps towards you and you step back, your back hitting the edge of his kitchen counter. It presses against your back painfully, but that’s the least of your problems right now. “You’re scared of me now, huh? Just ‘cuz I raise my voice a little and call you out for hanging around me like a slut.”

Your eyes begin to water as he gets closer. It gets harder to breathe and you feel your throat constricting. “Eddie, stop.” The words come out like a broken whisper, which makes Eddie laugh.

“You’re gonna cry now? Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Is that what you wanna hear? I didn’t think you were such a baby.” He almost sounds bored. Like he’s tired of you acting like this.

Eddie is only inches in front of you now. If he was paying attention, he’d notice how you’re trembling. “I want to go home.”

You cry out as Eddie grabs your wrist. His fingers dig into your skin, and you’re positive it’s going to bruise. “No, you don’t! You wanted something when you came here, now you wanna change your mind? Didn’t like what you found?”

It’s all too much. He’s too close, his grip on your wrist is too painful. His voice was too loud. You use your free hand to shove his chest. The alcohol in his system makes him clumsier, so your weak push moves him back. It’s not much space, but it’s enough for you to get through. Once you make it to the door, you turn to face him.

Your tears escape, falling from your eyes and down your cheeks. The salty taste is almost comforting when you speak.

“FUCKING STOP!” You yell, surprising yourself with how clear it is. Your body continues to shake, but your words are stronger now. “I don’t know what your problem is, but back the fuck off! Yeah, I like you, but I’m not gonna stand here and let you treat me like shit because you wanna assume the worst!”

Eddie doesn’t move from his spot, frozen in place. He looks the tiniest bit guilty, but you don’t care. You’re too angry to care. “You don’t get to take your anger out on me like I’m your punching bag! So I’m going home, and you’re going to stay here and sober up. Then after that, you’re gonna lose my number. You’re going to forget my address, you’re not gonna step foot in Family Video ever again, you’re not going to talk to me or even look at me again. Because if this is you, I want no part in it.” You let out a deep breath and your anger subsides slightly. “I like Eddie Munson. I love Eddie Munson. But this is not him.” With that, you slam the door shut behind you and go home.

—————

The next morning greets Eddie with a blinding headache. He can’t move or open his eyes and feels miserable in general. When he finally forces his eyes open, he notices that he’s on the floor right in front of the fridge. He must have gone to grab a beer and passed out on the way.

Eddie spots the bag of snacks that you had brought on the counter and remembers that you were supposed to watch a movie last night. That memory triggers images of the fight. He remembers how he yelled, how he backed you against the counter… Eddie remembers the fear in your eyes, and how he grabbed your wrist and squeezed until you cried. You were terrified of him and he deserved it.

All Eddie could see was the look on your face as he laid on the floor and cried. He stayed like that until Wayne came home hours later. Wayne took pity on him, but Eddie stopped him and told his Uncle everything.

“What do I do?” Eddie asked, desperate for an answer.

Wayne’s expression remained stoic as he stood from the couch. He grabbed a trash can and started throwing every can and bottle of alcohol into it. “You sober up and apologize with your tail between your legs. And if she tells you to fuck off, you do what she says.”

Yeah, Eddie deserves that.

—————

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