#i just do it enough to win and that's enough

[shouyuus]

very 18+, vi-shaped, modern underground fighter!au tw: in which vi uses a vibrating strap d1ldo and also fucks ur throat

popular underground fighter vi! x reader in which vi "soft launches" your relationship with this photo posted on instagram with clear red nail marks down her back and just the caption "post fight ritual 💋" and it's obvious that her knuckles are still bruised, but someone else made those marks on her back and they're definitely not from any fight she's ever been in.

and it's not like she's a stranger to people thirsting over her posts -- she kinda knows she's hot. or at least, she's been told enough times to know it empirically, but it still stuns her a little when she catches you staring, or when she sees the way your pupils literally dilate in her presence; it's not something that she grew up hearing, always being told that she's too tomboy or that she's not feminine enough, even though her own family never cared, and they've always supported her no matter how she wanted to dress or what she wanted to do.

you, though. she doesn't know how she got so lucky with you.

she might call it a chance meeting, but later on, you'd admit that you'd had your eye on her for weeks, thought she was so, so pretty, even with all her black eyeliner and her choppily cut hair (she does it herself; oh, you could tell? why? what gave it away? the weirdly uneven buzz or the fact that she totally missed a patch at the back of her head?), and you'd put yourself squarely in the line of her sight and hoped (prayed, really) that she'd notice you.

and notice you she did.

wearing that pretty little sundress of yours, leaning up against the bar of her favorite lesbian haunt, the one she goes to nine times outta ten after her fights, the adrenaline's still high, eating through her veins, the tattoo of her pulse pressing against her ribcage.

she'd pushed off the far wall and caged you in against the dark wood of the bar, turning her charm up to eleven and hoping against hope that she wasn't just imagining things when she saw your gaze run up and down the length of her body (she wasn't).

"hey pretty. thought you might wanna take a closer look."

you'd grinned then, caught someplace between bashful and triumphant.

"but... it's so dark and so... loud," you say, letting your hand linger on her shoulder even as you put up the very convincing front of uncertainty, the blatant tease of your words the only thing cueing her off that you were picking up what she was putting down.

"yeah? then... wanna go somewhere quiet where you can... take a better look in peace?"

vi's apartment, despite all the winnings from her fights, was a modest place, a small studio in the heart of the city, though the floor the ceiling windows are really what caught your eye that first time she brought you over.

that, and the giant mirror that covered the length of an entire wall opposite the windows.

"so i can check my form," vi says when you ask, running a tall glass under the tap water, holding it out to you afterwards.

and she'd be lying if she said she hadn't been expecting a hookup. and honestly, so had you. but somehow, the pair of you had just ended up curled on the couch, sitting face to face, sharing stories and laughing. the next you looked up, the pink of dawn was teasing across the far skyline and vi was frowning at the dying phone in her hand, her eyebrows hitched.

"holy shit... it's 6am."

you bury your face in the cushions of the couch, your hands still wrapped around a half-empty cup of spiked apple cider (a bottle of martinelli's at the back of her fridge, along with a half-empty thing of grey goose she'd found, tugging the cap out with her teeth), feeling the tiredness drag at your eyelids.

"oops... sorry," you grin sheepishly at her, "usually, when i keep people up all night, it's not like this."

vi laughs at your tired little innuendo, but her eyes soften when she catches you watching her. and for some stupid, unfathomable reason, she feels her cheeks heating up.

"yeah peaches. i figured. but... i don't mind being kept up like this."

your brows furrow even as a grin threatens your lips as she nudges you with her hand. you shift back, making room for her as she sits down in front of you, close enough for you to feel the heat rolling off her skin.

beyond the windows, a brilliant sunrise is peering out over the city, and the sharp, shard-drawn light of it pierces vi's studio as she reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, her thumb and forefinger trailing the line of your cheek till she's coaxing your chin up towards her.

"peaches?" you ask, your breath a bit short.

"yeah," her eyes flicker towards the tiny little stud earrings you'd put in, truly miniscule peach-emojis that you'd picked to match the shade of your dress. and you laugh, the tiredness making the air around you both effervescent.

and that was the first of many nights you'd proceed to spend at vi's, though eventually, she does drag you forward to kiss you, her lips insistent against yours, with you pulling back to gasp -- "took you long enough --" against her only for her to sink her teeth into the bared skin of your neck, letting her fingers curl around the delicate pulse-point nestled there as she says --

"they say good things come to those who wait."

neither of you can truly pinpoint the moment where this... thing became something more. something that neither of you had the words or will to deny any longer.

it might've come up the first time vi pressed three fingers into your sopping cunt, her eyes fixed on the way your expression goes slack, how your hips kicked up at every curl of her expert fingers. or perhaps the first time you'd pushed her back and kissed a line down her front, lavished her body with your lips, teasing and nipping at her tits before making your slow, arduous way down to her clenching cunt, licking up the wet slit before latching your mouth around her clit and sucking hard enough for her eyes to roll out of her eye-sockets.

or maybe the first time she'd pulled out her bright pink strap, the base equipped with a vibrating function and an opposing dildo that hooked into vi's pussy as she rucked her hips into yours, fucking into you so hard that tears had creased in your lashes after she was done with you.

"fuck peaches -- you just look so good cumming on my cock, don't you?"

and that's all it takes these days, a smirk, a slap on the ass, and her voice saying peaches for you to feel your body clench over nothing, for your stomach to curl with heat, even if she's just coming over to press a kiss to your cheek or murmur against your skin, asking how your day went, though sometimes, you'd get shy and your voice would get a bit too quiet.

"c'mon, speak up, doll. and look at me when i'm talking to you, yeah?"

her fingers squeezing your jaw, just tight enough to make you gasp.

and no one questions it; bc why would they? her coach is ecstatic -- not like vi's ever been an unfocused fighter, but these days, she's in such tip-top form that he's not got much feedback for her after her long training sessions.

"whoever she is," vander says, grinning even as vi flushes and sighs (she knows it's useless to lie, vander's known her for way, way too long), "she's good for you."

he presses a hand to her shoulder, shaking her slightly, "and my advice? when you find a girl like that -- you grab on with both hands and you don't let go."

so that's what she does, and what she's still doing now. it's been months -- almost a full year since you've made it all "official", though neither of you have posted much about it online (her fans have been speculating for a while though, specially the hardcore ones, the ones who have been with her long enough to know her, to spot how she scans the crowd before and after every right, how her smile's just a bit different these days, how there seems to be one particular girl she's always winking at, always hidden in the shadows but she's always swiveling around the first thing after a fight, win or lose).

"f-fuck -- that's a good girl --" vi groans, her hips jerking against yours as she fucks you through your third orgasm of the night (she'd wone her fight that night -- as she does most nights -- and you'd come over to celebrate), your nails biting into the skin of her back, dragging down the expansive tattoo there.

she feels the burn in her own thighs, her arms flexing, the veins popping blue as she drags you down the length of the bed by your hips, fucking into you, her eyes trained on the sticky white ring at the base of her pink strap, the sight in and of itself enough to send her over the edge.

"c'mere -- open your mouth, peaches," she says, guiding you towards her even as she pulls out of you, a thick string of cum slicking off the head of her strap as she inches up the bed to position herself over your chest and shoulders.

you let your jaw fall slack, moaning thick as she presses the tip of her strap to your tongue. you blink up at her, lashes fluttering as she sinks her fingers into your hair, hissing out a long breath as you swallow around her length.

"sweet fuck that's hot..."

she pulls you over her cock in shallow thrusts, her breath growing quick as she watches the way you eagerly clean your own cum off of her with your tongue, the completely fucked out, blissed out look in your eyes as you look up at her, so utterly besotted and at her mercy.

her feels the coils twist in her gut seconds before she shoves you down over her, the combined sound of your gagging and the pinpoint vibrations of the dildo sending her right over the edge.

"shit, shit -- shit oh -- fuck... mm..."

her fingers fist in your hair as she jerks around the dildo end of the strap, tugging out of your mouth with a lazy, lopsided smile.

"such a good girl for me, hm?" she says, tugging you up for an open-mouthed kiss. you mewl against her lips, so soft, absolutely melting into her arms as she shifts the both of you into the center of the bed.

it's not till she goes to shower later, with you sound asleep in her mussed up blankets, that she sees the marks -- red and raised on her back, scratched over her tattoo. a soft smile lifts her lips as she stares at her own reflection in the mirror, her neck twisting over her shoulder to get a good look.

and before she knows it, she's grabbing her phone and turning around to snap a pic, with the full intent of keeping it just to show you in the morning but... well, she thinks as she stares down at the photo with a dopey sort of grin, her heart thudding dangerously close to her mouth.

maybe the best gift she could give you on your one-year anniversary is this -- telling the world that she's yours.

[goldfades]

HER PRINCESS ─── PAIGE BUECKERS

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | request: P taking care of the reader and being extra sweet to her, like reader is being a pouty whiny baby and p is just laughing and teasing her ab it but also being the sweetest most caring gf doing everything her princess asks for) for @wanderlusturous

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | mentions of period cramps, paige being the sweetest gf ever, reader being dramatic, friendly teasing, nothing else but sweetness!

The soft click of the front door opening pulls you from your half-asleep haze. You’re sprawled out on the bed, face buried in the pillow, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets like the pouty, neglected girlfriend you are. Paige’s practice ran late—again—and even though you know it’s not her fault, it’s easier to sulk than to be reasonable.

“Baby, I’m home!” Her voice carries through the apartment, light and a little breathless. There’s a shuffle of sneakers being kicked off and the familiar jingle of her keys landing in the dish by the door.

You don’t answer. Not because you didn’t hear her, but because being dramatic feels like the only appropriate response to spending all day missing her.

Seconds later, the bedroom door creaks open, and there she is. Paige stands in the doorway, gym bag slung over one shoulder, her hoodie a little damp from sweat. Her hair’s pulled back into a messy ponytail, and her cheeks are still pink from exertion. You catch her grin the second she spots you moping on the bed.

“Oh no,” she teases, voice dripping with mock concern. “It’s worse than I thought. My princess is in full-on pout mode.”

You groan, rolling over just enough to glare at her. “Don’t call me that.” The words come out muffled through the blankets, hardly convincing.

Paige just laughs, dropping her bag on the floor before walking over. She leans down, resting her hands on the mattress, her face hovering inches from yours. “You’re right. Maybe I should call you grumpy-pants instead.”

“Paige,” you whine, turning your head away, which only makes her laugh harder. Her familiar scent—something clean and faintly floral—follows her as she crawls onto the bed, the mattress dipping under her weight.

“You missed me, huh?” she says softly, tugging gently at the blanket wrapped around you. You try to swat her hand away, but it’s useless—she’s persistent. “Come on, don’t be mad. I’m here now.”

When she finally manages to pull the blanket down far enough to reveal your face, she looks at you with such a warm, adoring smile that it’s hard to stay annoyed. Paige Bueckers, MVP of making you feel like the most loved human on the planet, even when she’s being a total pest.

Paige’s grin widens when she catches sight of your pout. She’s so close you can see the little flecks of gold in her blue eyes, and the way her damp lashes stick together. Her cheeks are still slightly flushed, not just from practice but from the effort of teasing you into a better mood.

“You’re so cute when you’re all grumpy,” she coos, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. Her fingertips are warm against your skin, and despite yourself, you lean into her touch ever so slightly. She notices, of course, because she notices everything, and her smirk turns smug. “Aww, see? You can’t stay mad at me.”

“Try me,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest in a last-ditch effort to look unbothered. It’s a weak attempt. Paige knows she’s already winning.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” she says, voice dropping into that playful, teasing tone that makes your stomach do flips. She shifts to sit cross-legged beside you, her body radiating warmth, and pulls your blanket fortress down further, exposing your pajama-clad form to the cool air. You squeak in protest, trying to grab it back, but Paige just laughs, easily dodging your attempts.

“Paige! I’m cold!” you whine, dragging the syllables out as dramatically as possible.

“You’re not cold,” she counters, leaning down so her face is level with yours. Her lips are barely an inch from your ear when she whispers, “You just want attention.”

The accusation makes your cheeks burn, but you refuse to admit it. Instead, you turn your head to glare at her, only to find her looking at you with such fondness it makes your heart squeeze. Her teasing may drive you crazy, but it’s never mean—always laced with that endless well of affection she has for you.

“Okay, okay,” she relents, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “I’ll stop being annoying. What does my needy girl want?”

You hesitate, biting your lip as you try to decide between staying stubborn or giving in. Paige raises an eyebrow, waiting patiently like she has all the time in the world, and you know she does. No matter how busy her day has been, Paige always makes it clear that when she’s with you, she’s with you—no distractions, no half-listening, just you and her.

Finally, you mumble, “I want cuddles. And snacks.”

“Snacks, huh?” Paige chuckles, but she’s already sliding off the bed, her socked feet making no sound against the floor. “Anything for my princess. Stay here—I’ll be right back.”

This time, you don’t protest the nickname. You watch as she disappears into the kitchen, humming softly to herself. Her hair bounces with every step, the ponytail swinging as she moves with that effortless grace she always has, even when she’s been on her feet all day.

Moments later, she returns with an assortment of snacks balanced in her arms—your favorite chips, a chocolate bar, and even a glass of water because, as she always reminds you, “You need to stay hydrated, babe.” She sets everything on the nightstand with a satisfied grin before crawling back onto the bed.

“Okay, princess,” she says, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “Snacks, check. Cuddles, incoming. Anything else?”

You pretend to think for a moment, then look up at her with wide, innocent eyes. “Maybe... a massage?”

Paige groans dramatically, throwing her head back as if you’ve asked her to climb Mount Everest. “You’re so high-maintenance,” she teases, but her hands are already reaching for your shoulders.

And just like that, the annoyance of her long day away melts into the warmth of her presence, the comfort of her touch, and the steady rhythm of her laughter filling the room.

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

[toasted-valentine]

I just want Hazbin to win cause at least that thing was a labor of love and the people working on it actually liked what they were doing. The show is a hot mess, but I’d rather the passion project win than Pop Glitter Movie Three and Movie Equivalent Of White Bread.

this industry is literally dead

[petalsonmoon]

breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out.

you're falling in love.

(i'd just like to say that in this scenario i imagined UA as an university so they're a bit older... thank you for reading <3)

you had no one to blame but yourself. you read too much and you never know when to stop. but really, how can you go to sleep when the found family are about to perform the heist?

so when school was back things got complicated. your brain had its own routine by now so when you were laying in bed and the moonlight was trying to get in through the curtains it felt like you just drank 3 bottles of coffee.

your celling was making your mind combust this is why you got up and decided to take a little walk. you left your dorm and went for the stairs, feet light as the moonlight touching the walls. maybe you should buy a sleeping mask. or try meditation. new year new habits.

when you arrived at the communal space you were trying not to let the frustation win the fight against your empathetic consciousness. one side of your head was screaming that the begining of a school year should be centered, organized and fierced and an insomnia on your first day is not a great start. the other part was giving you a gentle pat on your head saying that life doesn't end when you graduate and you just have to take one day at a time.

you find yourself walking very slowly towards the kitchen and sitting on your usual stool. the third one from right to left. the whole place was beautifully iluminated by the moon. isn't sad that the moonlight is actually an reflection of the light that hits them? must be isolating.

there was a mini jar on the counter filled with m&m's. you slided it close to you and started to eat the yellow ones.

it was 5:28am acording to the microwave. m&m's were a great breakfast.

but the moon itself was pretty once iluminated by the others.... so it must feel pretty, right? seen? especially if it knows us, humans are captivated by its brutal and elegant greyness,

"the fuck is this?"

you jump. like cartoon jump.

and he didn't even scream he merely whipered. a rasp and crude whisper but a hushed tone nonetheless.

"holy jesus bakugo-" you whisper back with your hand on your chest trying calm it.

"what are you doing?" his interrupition as strong as he is.

"you scared the shit out of me." you complete. sort of ignoring his question.

he stayed still a few feet away burning you with his red eyes. his natural rage and powerful aura filling up the space.

"morning." you say. not in a good mood to smile but with enough chocolate in your system to sound gentle.

his eyes were on you for 5 seconds (5 minutes in your head) before he growled and moved, walking around the counter, turning one single light of the relatively big kitchen and started to get everything to prepare his healthy breakfast.

since first year, bakugo grew gracefully for those who noticed. although he changed he'd still murder you with an m&m if you said that out loud. you're definitely not that close to the boy but you were one of those who got enchanted by a determination so big and fierce someone could get blinded by it.

just like you were constantly astonished by momo's bright and calculated mind or todoroki's immense gentleness after a life that lacked warmness, you spent those 3 years seeing bakugo as an inspiration.

although his whole group of friends had a confidence you wished you had. they intimidated you. hagakure says it's you being stupid.

you watch as the boy moves fast and domestically calm through the gabinets, knowing exactly what he needs and wants.

with his large back facing you he started chopping and boiling and cooking. all the yellow m&m's had ended by the time one of you said a word.

"why are you up?"

raspy and soft. but you were not expecting him acknowledging you at all.

"hm..." your eyes focused on his back. "insomnia. vacation consequences."

you hear a distant grunt.

"so you came here to eat chocolate?" he kept preparing his dish in an annoyingly organized way.

"well, if my body is not feeling like being healthy might as well join his thinking."

"great thinking." he concludes and it's not even lacying with sarcasm. just full judgement.

it takes a few seconds for you to toughen up and keep talking.

"any tips?"

with that he turns and looks at you for a few seconds. you hold his gaze.

he only answers when he's back at glaring at the vegetables. "just fucking sleep."

it's so blunt it cracks a chuckle out of you. you betray yourself and take a single red m&m to your mouth.

"you ever slept in?"

"no." he rumbles.

"not even like, 5 minutes?"

"no."

"that's crazy..." you whisper to yourself.

"that's discipline." he defends not whispering back.

"yes, it absolutely is." you sounded silly but that was not the intention. "once me and tokoyami tried to make a schedule and wake up at 5 to train together"

it was fun trying to be healthy doing team work. you remember him telling you that dark shadow was also excited to practice outdoors since it was going to be dark still the time you agreed. "we only did it for a week."

you see him shake his head and murmur something you took 3 seconds to decode. "more than what i was expecting"

"okay!" you protest softly. "not all of us wants to be the best there is"

"and that means i can't judge you for being stupid?"

he blunts it out. as you said, bakugo was stil an angry, angry person but with patience and respect on the edges now. if you look closely.

"and some of us are not that competitive... like, really not. ever played uno with me?"

you hear him taking a deep breath. you don't know if that's an "yes" a "no" or a "i dare you to keep talking"

so you keep talking. "and i tried, doesn't that count?"

"it doesn't if you don't even do the bare damn minimum" his voice still raspy and very dure but the sleepiness not there anymore "not sleeping fries your brain." he resolutes.

"but this brain is also the reason i have anxiety so i'm just paying it back."

he finally turns to you with those immaculate sharp red eyes and points at you with the knife he was holding. "stupid."

"no, fairness." you smile and point a red m&m at him.

you held his gaze until he turned again. but then he finished part of whatever he was doing and drops the knife, washes his hands and turns to you again.

now you're getting goosebumps because he's walking towards you.

"you should've given me tips to sleep if you didn't want me annoying you at 5 in the morning" you defend yourself of something. you're really grateful for the courage the dawn gives people.

"is this gonna be a recurring thing?" he whisper. he stops in front of you, a counter between you both.

"don't know. it might be."

your hand was going to another red m&m when he stopped it. "stop eating this shit."

"then do you mind giving me cooking tips as well?"

his eyebrows furrows and he takes another deep breath letting go of your wrist. the counter was not that big. he was too close. "just focus on your breathing and it'll help you relax. even if you're not sleepy breathing techniques do help."

oh!

he did try to help you and that was sweet and you couldn't help but smile. "thank you."

he quickly turned around and went back to the stove grunting in response "don't need you yapping my ears off at the one time i have peace in this place."

with that you got up from the stool and went to your dorm feeling lightheaded.

── ☆ ──

after that there was no reason not to take deep breaths and count before sleeping. of course the problem was not fixed but it actually helped! there was some nights where your brain could not for his own health turn off the lights and it took you couting till 50 to relax but overall. you were sleeping at least 6 hours straight so a win is a win.

your relationship with bakugo evolved from not talking at all to you saying hi to him and him grunting in return. the universe decided to be kind to you by pairing you two a few times to spare during some of aizawa's classes and it was so unhealthy how you felt happy and annoyingly you with him.

so some nights you did had to trick yourself into not think about bakugo. to not think about how domestically warm and confortable it would be to cook with the boy if you were a little bit more than friends.

and then you blink three times remembering you were at best his colleague and you shouldn't be thinking this just because of an exchange of 30 minutes and a few swift but blazing conversations.

but it's a reasonable crush if we analyze the bigger picture.

you're not one with much confidence, and even though you're not one with many romantic experience too it's an understandable situation having a bloom of emotions when you finally have nice exchanges with the person you admire the most in class.

right?

four weeks later, saturday happened.

you've been doing good in training and even your studing sessons were making you proud so you decided to give yourself a deserving movie night.

things were great when you watched a movie and then another one but you decided you wanted a sweet popcorn to accompany you with the third one. and that went terribly wrong.

which is where you are now, looking at whatever annomaly you were swiping in the frying pan.

"of course you're involved with that god awful smell." he grunts from a few meters behind you and you're not sure how you didn't hit his head with how far you jolted.

"fucking hell bakugo!" you turn to him and it's noticible he’s trying to hold the little smirk in the corner of his mouth. don’t look that way. "how does an angry bird like you have such a light feet?"

"by not wanting to wake the losers" he concludes coming closer to you to discover what was happening at the crime scene.

oh! he smells good.

at 5am? criminal. cinnamon but with a touch of sandalwood. you truly wanted him to give you a prolonged hug.

"you are a fucking dimwit." he grimaced.

"i'm not great with new recipes!" you didn't have a single argument this time.

"ruin popcorn it's a new level." he walked towards the trash and opened. it's kind of a superpower that his expression alone could criticize so many aspects of a person.

you defeatedly walked to him with the pan in hands and threw its content in the trash.

"hopeless." he whispered as he took the object from you and walked to the sink.

you pout and make way to sit in your stool by the counter.

"i make a neat rice." you whisper back.

he immeditaly let out a chuckle. "i bet."

why were you still here was a question you'd burned with the imaginary popcorn. so it took you while to say anything,

"i remember in second year," really nice of them to keep replacing the m&m's in the jar. it was a good distraction look for the yellow ones. "when we were celebrating jiro's birthday and everybody was outside, i was going back inside to refil my water cup when i heard kaminari's voice desperately apologizing-"

a loud noice startled you. it sounded like a pot hitting the sink. you're not to make assumptions but it felt like he knew where you were going.

so you kept talking. "and suddendly you barked at him to shup up-"

"i didn't fucking bark-" he interrupted snarling. oh he was so sweet.

"-turns out he accidentally ruined a small part of her cake and you fixed it in record time. and didn't even eat it. i'm quite sure you went to bed after the happy birthday" you interrupted his interruption.

it was a quiet night so by the sounds you could identify that he started to do whatever he was doing a bit more angryly.

"cakes are stupid." he rumbles.

"they are important on birthdays."

"fucking dunce face can't keep his mouth shut-" him angrily replying with his back to you was a bit comical.

"in his defense" in the counter, you make a heart with the yellow m&m's you haven't eaten yet. "i traded this information giving him my piece of the cake that day."

you glace up and he was still treating the food with rage. "because surprisingly i'm not a big fan of cakes."

"weird coming from someone with the most crappy eating habits."

"i know, right?" you answer and he doesn’t respond. you fill the little heart with the red m&m's.

you take a deep breath.

"it was nice of you" you look up. "the number one spot is in safe hands."

he stilled. for about 7 seconds.

then he started to move again. calmly. you start to eat the yellow m&m's and after a while of him preparing his perfect little breakfast he speaks again.

"you being a sting in my ass since last year and telling me proudly." he says, his voice a bit more deep and cemented.

"yes, i like to think i'm a nice little bee." you admit.

"HA!" his rough laugh invaded the room.

"they're pretty and united and very important-"

"will you include the part they make honey and you can"t cook for shit?"

"it's a team work!" you defend. "don't you think that when a bee has problems with her honey, another one doesn't come to help?"

now you try to hold your laughter from your own statement.

"that's just pathetic." he answers.

"you're just not a bee." you resolve. you start to eat the red m&m's left. "you're more like a lone wasp. they're big and quite prett-"

your discourse is interrupted when a small bowl is strongly put in front of you spreading the red dots.

"hey!" you're about to protest when its contents finally loads in your brain.

it's popcorn.

with chocolate.

you feel the little bees in your stomach make a mess. a pure and chaotically comforting emotion fill your heart and there is no going back now. how can a furious boy make you breathe so peacefully?

when you finally come back to the moment and look up he immediately turns around and goes back to the stove.

"bakugo-"

"no." his tone heavy and definitive.

you take a deep breath and try to relax. not fighting the small smile in your face anymore.

"bakugo." your tone soft but as decisive as his.

he fights for a second but turns to you with a locked jaw. his eyes the sharpest you've ever seen, giving you nothing to unravel before going to sleep.

"thank you." and with that you leave the kitchen.

── ☆ ──

the following week you felt like suffocating but also very fucking joyful.

nothing prominent changes in your rotine. you're still dedicated to have a good sleeping pattern and things with you and bakugo haven't changed. and you weren't expecting them to.

but you needed saturday to come.

you were going to be there on purpose this time. and you were fiercily holding the ballon of insecurities screaming that you were too in clouds of your emotions to not think your decision carefully.

so it's 5:37 when you're getting closer to the kitchen, the familiar hiss and chopping of the food capturing the place making you shiver for some reason.

a well known reason but whatever.

you gently pull your usual stool to sit on it and your eyes lock to his figure, who froze for a millisecond when you made the sound.

your hand automatically made way to the mini jar that lived in the counter only to find nothing there.

you whip around to glare at him.

"who did you threatened to blow to get my m&m's removed?"

he took his time finishing whatever he was doing and turned to you very slowly. to have his attention on you once again sent intense shivers all over your body.

"why am i involved?" he soflty replies and you think you like his voice a little too much.

"you're always involved."

"always?"

"yep." you nod.

he leans his body back on the sink putting his hands on his pockets. boy, it's really fucking unffair to be heavenly beautiful like this.

you pout. "i just want my yellow m&m's back."

and then. and then

he measures your face before taking his right hand out of his pocked, setting a yellow m&m on his tongue and closing his mouth.

"come get it." he replies nonchantly.

your body suddenly feels solid and your blood it's cathing on fire. there is no way this scene wasn’t a creation of your most desired dream that was buried deep in your consciousness.

"well?" he arches one eyebrow and you blink. twice.

you decide in a millisecond to fight fire with fire. you're not a confident person but you could pretend to be.

you get off the stool and walk around the counter, only to sit on it placing yourself not far from him. you feel his eyes piercing you until yours met his.

"someone told me once i don’t even do the bare minimum…" you motioned to the empty space where the jar used to be “why would i go there if it can come to me?”

you hold his gaze while he took four steps to arrive and place himself between your legs.

he’s fixated on your mouth while you decide your favorite color is the color of his hair.

his slight smirk felt like an illusion when he breathes in your mouth “you little minx.”

then his mouth was against yours.

his hand found the back of your head making he deepen the kiss deliciously firme. a kiss as intense and imposing and skilled as the boy.

your hands made their way to his hair and it felt like a fervent dream when his own hands were now behind your thighs pulling you illogically close to him. his tongue ardent against yours making your whole body melt in his and when you scrap where his hair meets his neck his throat makes a guttural noise. you wanted to overflow in him.

when you pulled apart you’re a bit dizzy.

“you taste like chocolate.” you blur out.

placing his hands on your jaw he touches featherly your mouth with his tumb.

“why don’t you let me find out what you taste like, brat?”

[sillyuin]

hi <3! was wondering if i can get svt reaction to yn being completely oblivious to them flirting with her? subtle things like while she’s just ranting about her day they’d move closer to her and she’d absentmindedly put her hand on their chest to push them away still running her mouth, just completely unaware of what’s happening. and even the most obvious things like compliments or physical touch, yn is blind to it and it’s so frustrating to them

so yeah, hope you see this! ❤️

Hi! I'm sorry for being so late 😭 i've been very busy with job and housework, but it's finally here.

Svt reacts: Flirting vs clueless s/o. Who will win?

Yuin's note: barely proofread. I'ts 1 am and I'm tired.

Seungcheol. Staring at your face.

I mean, he likes to just stare at you as if he's watching the prettiest person in the world, but when Seungcheol wants to be especially flirty, he stares at you fondly and smiling with the whole intention to make your heart skip a beat, he even glances at your lips, as if he were trying to say something. Most of the time that's enough to make you really, really shy but when is not... Geez, he has to breathe in and ends up pouting a little (Probably one or two pecks will make him feel better).

Jeonghan. Teasing.

Is like his default love language, making harmless jokes to see you flustered all over him is just so fun to watch. But, is he really just trying to be a teaser, or is there something else behind? "I took the chair, but you can sit on my lap" he said one day, sitting at your desktop, with the most mischievous smile possible. But you didn't fall for his charm and as you kept your annoyed face, he stood up and sighed "Okay, all yours". And you better be ready because he's not forgetting so easy, and will keep teasing you just a little (yeah, a little) more than usual.

Joshua. Back hugging.

When Joshua wants your attention only and only for him, he goes where you are to hug you from the back, resting his chin on your shoulders and crossing his arms around your waist. Oh, he loves it so much is so tender, but he gets lowkey hurt when you don't react in any way because, how come you don't realize his intentions? Is really doing the dishes way more important than his warm hugs? Now, this is personal and Joshua won’t let you go, take it as a punishment for being so clueless (reward or punishment?).

Jun. Tickles.

For him, tickles is the perfect excuse to be closer to you. It's so obvious that hurts lol. Most of the time you melt in his touch, and you both end up laughing and sharing some kisses, but sometimes you're minding your business, too busy to realize that Jun wants to get your attention. Better get ready because you'll have a pouty little cat going around the apartment, and will NOT forget your offense unless you give him extra cuddles before bed.

Hoshi. Random "facts".

At the least appropriate time, he would come to find you. "Did you know that there is a minimum number of kisses that a person should receive per day to be healthy?" he says with a very serious expression on his face. And there you are, standing in the middle of the living room while you're brushing your teeth; your soulless expression says all. Hoshi turns around and pretends nothing happened, but in his mind, he's sitting in the corner staring at the walls.

Wonwoo. Making compliments out of nowhere.

He likes to pour you with sweet words, like how much he appreciates your homemade food, or that you did it great at work. From time to time, he thinks is fun to be a little sassy and his praises are very, very intentional. “New gloss?” he says, grinning at you “It looks good” and for some frigging reason you just start talking about how you got it? Babe, Wonu doesn’t care that much that you bought it because your favorite gloss wasn’t on stock, but now he feels a little shy to speak and just lets you tell the whole story.

Woozi. Playing with your hair.

When it comes to be openly flirty, Woozi tends to be a little coy. You rarely notice it since it's very common for him to be around you, caressing your hair and playing with the strands in complete silence. So when you get distracted he places a strand behind your ear, exposing your neck. But when he's so close to place a kiss, you jump like a scared kitten. "No! It tickles!" Woozi looks down, defeated, as you move away. "Sorry, be right back" and he locks himself in his room for the next hour.

Minghao. Holding your hand.

He thinks your hands are more than just pretty. Hao likes to take one of them when you're sitting by his side, scrolling on your phone or watching TV. He's so subtle that most of the times you don't feel how he traces your hand with his fingers and when you realize, it’s because your hands are intertwined and he’s holding his laughter. “How low you’ve been like this?” but Minghao just giggles. You end up doing the same and then resume your activity, letting him laughing low in embarrassment and biting his lips as a sign of frustration.

Mingyu. Resting on your lap.

He's very straightforward when it comes to flirting with you. Mingyu likes to wait patiently for you to sit on the couch or the bed and then he goes, at first making some (pretty obvious) questions "What are you doing?" "Is that a new book?" and as you're talking, his hands rest on your thigh, gently stroking your skin with his thumb, but you're so immerse in the topic and he goes completely unnoticed... And before you even notice, there's a flustered Mingyu resting his head on your lap, tracing small circles on your thigh as if he had been punished.

Dokyeom. Taking photos.

He already has a folder with your name and an unhealthy number of photos; Seokmin just never gets tired, you're so used to it that most of the time don't realize that he's actually trying to hit on you. "Just let me take a picture, you look so beautiful today!" And after giving him an awkward smile, you're getting back to your stuff.  Seokmin is a bit disappointed but with a bunch of new photos of his precious person, so is not that bad (at least is what he says to himself trying to not lose his mind).

Seungkwan. Scolding.

I know, it may sound like a bit harsh but when he's scolding you, Seungkwan tries to make it as tender as possible, it doesn't feel like scolding and actually, he uses this as a cheap excuse to be extra lovely. "Don't sleep too late, you're getting dark circles" he says in a soft voice while caressing your checks "you're too pretty for that, don't you think?". He waits for you to take the bait and when you laugh on him, saying that he's being a little dramatic, Seungkwan doesn't hide his disappointment. "Okay, keep watching your series" he says getting up from the couch "but don't you dare to complain later!"

Vernon. Placing his arm on your shoulders.

A classic that never dies and his favorite, Vernon likes to do it all the time: when watching movies, chatting, watching videos together; is a like a very subtle invitation to get closer to him, and somehow, most of the time you’re just minding your business and leave him waiting for you to notice. And yeah, he’s very patient, but everything has a limit. "Come here, babe" then he places his hand on your shoulder and brings you closer to his chest. And don't you dare to move, because there's no way he let you go now.

Dino. Calling your name.

Usually, he calls you by pet names or your name in diminutive, reserving the use of your name for special occasions. However, it doesn't always end the way he expected. “Did I do something wrong?” you ask him just after he called you by your name, and when Chan sees your big doe eyes, his smile fades. “Is just that… I feel like you’re mad at me”. At this point his intentions doesn’t matter anymore, he just hugs you and tries not cry in his disappointment.

[world-of-aus]

Hot Shot

Pairing: NHL!Photographer!Reader x Hockey Player!Bucky

Warnings: Bucky being a heartthrob.

A/N: I've been reading one to many hockey romances and well here we are scratching an itch. I know I would like to eventually come out with a bigger story for these two but for now this is just the start a taste if you will. I'd like to leave this open to suggestion of what y'all would like to see or know about these two if anything.. Hope you enjoy the first taste.

You barely had a chance to unlock your screen to reply to her message before her caller ID

was taking up your screen, a recent photo of her and Steve that she had made as her contact picture pulling a smile onto your lips.

“Tasha.” you answer.

“Y/n, listen I know you were just planning on watching the game from the comfort of your living room but I mean talk about an upgrade! From a television screen to being at the actual game on the floor behind the safety of the glass getting some wicked shots, and no one captures action shots like you do - I promise I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.” she tacks on her voice pleading.

You chuckle, you know had the circumstances been different she’d be one of the first ones at the arena, she hadn’t missed one of Steve’s games yet, not since you had been signed on. “Natasha relax, you know you don’t have to pull out the stops on me, I'll go - do you want me to send you the photos?”

The redhead turned blonde breathes a heavy sigh of relief, “oh god thank you! and if you don’t mind, but take your time, I’m sure a certain bruin's player is going to be demanding your attention after the game especially if they bag a win.” she teases seemingly mentioning the man in your DM’s.

Your cheeks warm, the unread notification from the player she speaks of appearing in your mind, “please Tasha,” you deflect, “it’s the game of the season he’ll have plenty of attention with all the puck bunnies sporting his name on their jersey throwing themselves at him for an inkling of his attention.” you murmur picking at an invisible speck of lint on your sweater as you stand from the couch, intent on getting your things packed to head out.

“And yet he only seems to want yours,” she sings, “you should totally wear the jersey I got you for your birthday.”

You roll your eyes smile pulling at your lips, “is your flight really delayed, do I have to text Steve?”

Your friend laughs, “unfortunately it is and hey thank you again for this, I owe you, love you, oh and send me a picture of Steve, one of you and Bucky too!”

You shake your head as your friend rushes out her farewell your screen now gone black as you look down at it “looks like pjs are out of the question for tonight” you murmur continuing on through your apartment to grab your things Bucky’s text still sitting in your messages unanswered.

He’d have his answer soon enough.

🏒🖤

The cool of the arena’s backstage floor seeps through your jeans, your tripod sitting off to the side, your camera nestled in your hands as you wait for the first few players of the bruins to make their arrival.

Your camera goes up; the first of the team to come through the backdoors is the Bruins coach Fury, he spots you smile on his face his hand coming up in a greeting as you get your first arrival shot of the day. Slowly players begin to trickle in, most of them spot you posing for you as they stride by, others walk by with a simple wave their heads already in the game.

Speaking of head in the game center Steve Rogers makes his way in, his suit pressed, duffle thrown over his shoulder as he owns the floor. “Looking good Rogers, say you wouldn’t have Natasha tucked away in that duffle by chance?” you tease grinning behind your camera. You laugh at the grin that breaks his lips, a shake of his head as he directs his gaze at you, “can assure you Natasha wouldn’t be packed in my bag, she’d be hanging on my arm.” You coo at the bearded blonde, “you think you can say that again I didn’t have my phone out.”

The two of you laugh as you capture a few more shots, “Come on Rogers leave some love for the rest of us, you already have your face glued on billboards!”

Left defenseman Sam Wilson is striding in next million dollar smile painted on his lips like the suit he wears on his skin. “But no one has their face printed on as many shirts like you do Wilson, now give me something new to look out for will ya, want to make sure these etsy sellers get only the best!” Wilson eats your words up, feeding the fans through your film. He comes closer kneeling to your level to pull you in for a hug, “it’s good to see you hot shot, thought you weren’t coming out tonight with how Barnes was moping.”

Your heart beats like a wild drum in your chest, “Tasha’s flight got delayed, cashed in her IOU, so here I am and surely your version of Barnes moping is different from mine.”

“Oh man you should of seen him, had to smack the phone out of his hands with how often he was checking it, you’re gonna join us tonight after the win right?”

“You Bruins are so sure about that win,” you laugh.

“That’s because it’s in the bag, hot shot.” It takes everything in you not to snap your eyes to the broad shoulder right defenseman sauntering into the building. “Here comes your boy.” Sam chuckles patting your shoulder as you find said man with your camera lens. You wanted to eat him up like he was eating at your film.

Like Sam Bucky strolls till he’s standing above you, grin pulling at his pink lips as he offers you his hand. You set your camera down gently against your chest before taking his offer, warmth seeping though you at your hand wrapped in his. “Thought you weren’t gonna show.” He murmurs watching you.

“Well as enticing as staying in my pjs on my couch with a glass of wine watching the game tonight sounded IOUs are a serious thing to cash in.” you say struggling to keep his gaze, you were certain you’d turn into a puddle of goo soon.

“More enticing then upgrading your lock screen?”

You let out a groan reaching out to smack his chest, but his hand captures yours instead keeping it there a teasing smile playing at his lips. “You’re never going to let that go are you?” you question recalling the night at the bar that he discovered himself as your lock screen. To be fair it was one of your favorite shots you had captured at the beginning of the seasons. It didn’t hurt that he was your favorite Bruin player to follow on and off the ice.

“Never, though I’m hoping by the end of the night ill see a photo of me after the win.” He chuckles thumb running over your hand.

“You’d have to secure a win first Barnes.”

Your breath catches in your chest as he closes the distance between the two of you, “I’ve already won though.”

Your reply is caught on your tongue, Fury voice breaking through the haze, “Barnes you’ll have time to catch up with y/n later get your ass in the lockers now!”

Bucky let’s your hand falling, chuckle brewing in his chest as he steps back, “hope you’re not watching Wilson or Rogers to closely tonight hotshot because this wins for you, and I’m going to be the one bringing it home.”

You watch him walk away, his gaze lingering on you till he disappears through the locker room.

And God how you hoped he would.

[jockohomomorphism]

BLOW ME - the game that gets old fast.

two players: gm(dm if you wanna get freaky) (has to have a dick. phalloplasty is cheap these days) and player

player comes up with a guy, gm comes up with an adventure featuring challenges that guy must overcome.

challenges are overcome via skill checks, which are performed by obtaining a random number in some absurd way related to the challenge the guy is facing. (like the player has to roll a d7 when fighting/blowing seven guys for example.) the player must then figure out a way to do that. if they can't, the gm says blow me, and in order for their guy to continue the player has to blow them. y'know. spit on that thang, hawk tuah, et cetera. does not have to be to completion. skill checks cannot be reused by the gm.

teeth rules (optional): rather than a gm-set end to the adventure, the player starts with zero teeth and gains a tooth every time their guy overcomes a challenge. to win, they need enough teeth to bite off the gm's dick. (this can be literal or abstract. phalloplasty is cheap these days)

this shit is so ass - your mom

pretty sure this is under 200 words but i'm on my phone so i can't check. have only tested this while playing with myself, so there was some mechanical issues with the player's mouth reaching my (large) penis. so my advice would be to not jerk off while you're playing if you're the gm because it's hard (hehe) for the player to blow you. may also be tough if the gm can't get hard fast or stay hard throughout the whole session, and viagra is expensive. just don't play then.

signed off by three whole people so you know it's heat

feel free to archive offsite

200 Word RPGs 2024

Each November, some people try to write a novel. Others would prefer to do as little writing as possible. For those who wish to challenge their ability to not write, we offer this alternative: producing a complete, playable roleplaying game in two hundred words or fewer.

This is the submission thread for the 2024 event, running from November 1st, 2024 through November 30th, 2024. Submission guidelines can be found in this blog's pinned post, here.

[stealingpotatoes]

With how many times Ezra, Kanan, and Sabine went undercover as stormtroopers and wrecked the Empire's stuff, you'd think they'd have learned to be just a little more careful. But nope!

aside from that being difficult to check, you'd think! but as always, our lord and saviour Andor has the answers, specifically in s1 ep3, at like minute 18:

Cassian: What do you need? A uniform, some dirty hands, an imperial toolkit. [scoffs] They're so proud of themselves, they don't even care. They're so fat and satisfied, they can't imagine it Luthen: Can't imagine what? Cassian: That someone like me would ever get inside their house, walk their floors, spit in their food, take their gear. Luthen: The arrogance is remarkable, isn't it?

and also 1.06, 4 mins in:

Nemik: [...] let them see how an insurgency adapts. Cassian: Well, you're half right. The Epire doesn't play by the rules. Nemik: And how am I wrong? Cassian: They don't care enough to learn. They don't have to. You mean nothing to them.

obviously rebels isn't the same as andor, i know it's more kids-show-tcw-we-can-suspend-logic-for-the-plot-occasionally but it still applies! the empire doesn't learn bc it is so big and its reach is so vast that it thinks that no matter what, it will win in the end; a couple little rebels doing one stealth mission dressed as troopers mean nothing to it. it does not care to learn

[pickingupmymercedes]

White Fireproof - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: unprotected sexual activities

Wrap it before you tap it.

wordcount: +2k

a/n: White fireproof tribute (the 2019 one, the one that actually had aura)

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

______________________________________________________________

I’m not one to get distracted easily.

Really, I’m not.

But there’s something about the way Lewis moves when he’s in his element that just…scrambles my brain.

And right then, standing in front of me, adjusting the collar of this brand-new, snow-white fireproofs like he’s trying on his newest Dior collection instead of his race driver uniform.

“Do you think this watch pops enough against the white?” he asks, flicking his wrist in my direction.

I hum in response, my eyes glued to the line of his shoulders, the fit of the material across his chest, and the way it clings to his hips like it’s got a personal vendetta against me.

I mean I’ve seen him in fireproofs a hundred times, but this shade of white? This specific white? Sinful.

Lewis keeps talking, oblivious to my descent into thirsty nostalgia. “I think it’ll works for the shots. Clean, sleek. What do you think, babe?”

“Mmhm,” I mutter, my mind decidedly not in the present.

Here’s the thing: Lewis like this, all crisp and sharp, unlocked a memory I had neatly tucked away.

Abu Dhabi, 2019. Last race of the season.

Last time he wore a fireproof this white at a race. And the first of many times we did something reckless��but oh-so worth it.

Lewis, bless his heart, keeps chatting. Rambling on about how the watch’s black dial contrasts with the white fabric, and I’m sitting here pretending to listen while my brain serves up a reel of that night.

“And then they said we might try another angle where the light hits the watch just right—”

Oh, I’ll tell you about angles, sir.

Like the one I had to work at to get around the time frame on that fireproof while making good on a promise that was half a joke, half a long-standing fantasy.

He finally looks at me, his brows pulling together slightly. “You good? You’re quiet.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I wave a hand, crossing my legs to try and focus. “Just thinking about…stuff.”

Smooth, Y/n. Really smooth.

I didn’t think I’d actually do it.

A tipsy promise made over tequila shots months ago doesn’t usually hold much weight. But then again, I’m not dating just anyone.

I’m dating Lewis Hamilton, one of the most competitive guys I’ve met, fresh off winning the last race of the season and securing a Grand Chelem after achieving his 6th championship two races back.

And who am I to back out now, when he’s standing in front of me, soaked in champagne, grinning like he’s on top of the world?

He barely gets two steps into the driver’s room before I’m on him. I press him against the door, his laugh vibrating against my lips as I kiss him like we’ve got all the time in the world, even though we don’t.

“Someone’s happy” he teases between kisses, his hands settling on my hips.

“You’ve got no idea,” I murmur, nipping at his bottom lip before pulling back slightly. His gaze, dark and shining, flicking between my eyes and my lips.

I let my fingers toy with the zipper of his race suit, tugging it down just enough to reveal the long sleeve underneath. “Remember the bet?” I ask, my voice low, playful.

He blinks, clearly taking a second to process, and then his brows shoot up. “You’re serious?”

“Very serious.” I grin, dragging the zipper down the rest of the way. “We got fifteen minutes, champ.”

He swallows hard, the heat in his eyes unmistakable now. “Yes ma’am” he mutters, no resisting as I guide him toward the small sofa tucked in the corner of the room, giving him a gentle push.

He obeys, leaning back slightly, his legs spread just enough to make my mouth water.

I settle between his knees, my hands gliding over the champagne-soaked fireproofs. The fabric clings to his skin, warm and damp beneath my fingers, exuding that sharp, fizzy scent of victory—sweet and metallic, a heady mix of adrenaline and success.

His gaze doesn’t waver, intense and unblinking, like he’s trying to commit every second of this to memory.

I can hear the quickening rhythm of his breath, and the barely-there hitch that makes me shiver. His chest rises and falls beneath my hands, steady but heavy, the pulse in his neck beating fast enough for me to notice, almost in sync with my own racing heartbeat.

“You with me?” I ask, smirking as I press a kiss to his hand that is hovering mine. His silence is answer enough.

His breath hitches audibly as my fingers hook into the waistband of his fireproofs, the sound low and raspy like it’s caught in his throat.

The soft rustle of fabric against his skin fills the air as I tug them down, revealing smooth, sweat-slicked skin that glistens faintly under the dim lights. The faintest trace of cologne—woody, clean—lingers where his body heat mingles with the champagne.

 It’s intoxicating, almost dizzying, and I can’t help but lean in, my nose brushing just above his waistband to drink it in.

The bulge in his briefs is impossible to ignore, and I let my fingers trail over it lightly, earning a soft groan from him.

“You know” I say, leaning in close, my lips brushing against the fabric “if you walk into that debrief with this situation still going on, it might be a little awkward.”

He chuckles, though it’s strained. “Help me then.”

“Maybe I should” I reply, pulling his briefs down just enough to free him.

He’s already hard, the tip glistening with precum.

I start slow, my tongue flicking out to taste him, and the salty but fruity tang spurring me. I drag my tongue along the length of him, spreading the slickness as I go.

His breath is uneven, and I can feel his restraint slipping.

When I finally take him into my mouth, I go as far as my throat allows, the coolness of my lips contrasting with his heat. I pull back with a soft pop, flicking my eyes up to meet his.

His gaze is locked on me, intense and unwavering.

I wrap both hands around his length, stroking him slowly, deliberately, while maintaining eye contact. His lips part slightly, and when I hear the first low moan escape, I can’t help but grin.

“Enjoying yourself?” I tease, my voice raspy.

His only response is a shaky exhale, and I take that as my cue to dive back in, my mouth working with my hands. His hips twitch slightly, his self-control barely there anymore.

The sounds he makes—soft groans, sharp inhales, and the occasional whispered curse—are like music.

His thighs tense under my palms, firm and unyielding, as if bracing for what’s next. I can feel the heat radiating off him, the heady mix of sweat and lingering champagne heightening every inhale I take.

His body is alive beneath me, each twitch, each gasp, syncing with my rhythm of hands and mouth.

When I glance up again, his head is tipped back, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He’s completely lost in the moment, lost in me.

I pull back, letting him slip from my mouth as I sit back on my heels and his eyes snap open, dark and desperate, as if I’ve just yanked him back to earth.

“Problem?” I ask innocently, tilting my head, pretending like I’m done.

His jaw clenches. “Babe” he murmurs, his voice a low growl, his eyes narrowing in that way that makes my stomach flip.

I raise a brow, waiting. He knows what I want. He exhales heavily, his hand reaching out to rest on the back of my head.

With the gentlest pressure, he guides me back down. “Don’t stop,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over my jaw.

I smirk before taking him in again, my lips wrapping around him, picking up right where I left off.

His hands stay on me, not pushing, just there, grounding himself. I can feel his thighs tense beneath my palms, his body teetering on the edge.

And then—footsteps. A knock on the door.

“Oi, hurry up, you two!” Angela’s voice cuts through from the other side. “Five minutes left”

Lewis freezes, his entire body going rigid. His eyes shoot to the door and I freeze right with him, unmoved, my tongue teasing him lightly just to test his resolve.

Angela’s steps fade down the hall, and I finally lift my head just enough to whisper, “She’s gone.”

His shoulders sag, and he lets out a breathy laugh. “You’re gonna kill me” he mutters.

“Not before I finish what I started.”

Without missing a beat, I shift my focus, letting my hand drift lower to gently cup his balls. I massage them with just enough pressure to make his breath hitch, all while my mouth works him steadily.

His hips twitch, and I know I’ve got him.

“Shit,” he breathes, his head falling back.

It doesn’t take long before his hands move again, this time pulling gently at my head, trying to stop me. “Babe,” he rasps, his voice strained. “I’m gonna—”

I hum in response, doubling down, taking him deeper. His grip tightens, his hips jerking slightly as he tries to warn me again, but I’m not stopping.

Not this time.

His body tenses, and then I feel it—hot and thick, spilling down my throat.

I swallow every drop, my eyes locked on his, watching as his features twist in pure bliss. His mouth falls open, and the quietest, most wrecked groan escapes him as he collapses back against the sofa. Spent.

I give him a few more gentle strokes, making sure I’ve got everything, before finally pulling back, letting my lips trail one last time over the sensitive tip.

His hands fall to his sides, useless, as he tries to catch his breath.

I rise slowly, crawling up his body until I’m face to face with him. His eyes are half-lidded, heavy with satisfaction, but they don’t leave mine.

I press a soft, chaste kiss to his lips, like I hadn’t just sucked him dry moments before.

“Thanks for the trophy,” I whisper against his mouth, grinning.

I’m still half-lost in my own mind when Lewis’s voice breaks through the haze. “Love, you good?”

I blink, snapping back to the present. He’s standing in front of me, white fireproofs hugging every muscle, his brow slightly raised, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, waving a hand dismissively, even as my cheeks burn. He doesn’t need to know how far down memory lane I just went. “Just... admiring the view.”

His smirk deepens. “Uh-huh.” He steps closer, leaning in slightly. “You’ve been staring at me like that since I put this on. Something on your mind?”

Oh, you sweet, oblivious man.

I clear my throat, standing up from the couch and brushing past him to inspect his fireproofs more closely. “All I’ll say it’s,” I start, my fingers tracing the fabric near his shoulder, “It’s not as good as the 2019 one.”

He scoffs, crossing his arms. “I thought you liked the all-white look.”

“I did,” I admit, turning to face him fully, my hands on my hips. “But these little dot patterns?” I point at the subtle textured details near his ribs. “They’re throwing me off”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Of course.”

“Hey,” I retort, poking him lightly in the chest, “I’m only pointing out the obvious. The 2019 ones were iconic. These? Meh.” I scrunch my nose for dramatic effect.

“Meh?” he repeats, incredulous. “Okay, little miss fashionista”

I grin. “And yet, here you are, still putting up with me.”

He leans in closer, his voice dropping to that soft, teasing tone that always gets me. “You’ve got strong opinions for someone who couldn’t keep her hands off me in the old ones.”

Touché.

“Fair point” I concede, stepping back just enough to keep things playful. “But let’s not forget who really benefited from that moment in history.”

He laughs, shaking his head as he adjusts the sleeves of his fireproofs. “You know,” he murmurs, his eyes meeting mine, “I don’t remember much from that race. But those ten minutes? Burned into my memory forever.”

I bite my lip, warmth blooming in my chest. “Good” I reply, my voice softening. “I like knowing I leave an impression.”

He reaches for my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “You always do.”

The knock on the door snaps us both out of the moment. “Lewis, waiting for you!”

Lewis sighs, giving my hand a quick squeeze before letting go. “ I’ll be right back”

As he heads for the door, I can’t resist one last parting shot. “Tell the photographers to focus on your face” I call out. “It’s the real moneymaker.”

With one final smirk, he disappears down the hallway, leaving me alone with my thoughts—and the satisfaction of knowing I’ll never look at white fireproofs the same way again.

_____________________________________________________________

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[solxamber]

Helloo, I absolutely love you writing! Your understanding of the twst characters’ personalities is phenomenal 😭❤️

May I request both Ace and Malleus crushing on reader simultaneously, and both are aware that the other likes reader (reader is oblivious hehe). Ace gets super insecure since he isn’t powerful nor of royal status and believes there’s no way he can compete against him, meanwhile Malleus gets super jealous since Ace has been friends with reader ever since and is the most close with him.

Ace x Reader x Malleus (Love Triangle)

a/n: the giggle i let out when i saw this!! such a fun concept and thank you so much 🫶🫶

It started with a normal day: you laughing at one of Ace's jokes, completely unaware of the storm brewing behind you. The storm in question was Ace and Malleus glaring daggers at each other over your oblivious head.

Ace was slouched in his chair, shooting side-eyes at the imposing figure standing too close to your desk. Why does he have to hover like that? he thought bitterly. Malleus, for his part, was casting pointed glances at Ace’s casual posture, as if silently saying, Is this the best you can do?

Neither could deny the truth. They were both hopelessly, tragically in love with you. And they both knew it.

Ace prided himself on being the guy you could count on for a laugh. But today, he was on a mission: show you how amazing he was.

“So, anyway,” he said loudly during your study session in the library, “I totally aced—get it?—my magic exam. Got full marks.” He leaned back smugly, hoping you’d be impressed.

Malleus, who had been quietly sitting nearby (because of course he was), looked up. “Impressive, Ace Trappola. But I suppose it pales in comparison to wielding centuries-old magic and commanding legions of loyal subjects.”

Ace choked on his own smugness. “Yeah, well, I bet you don’t even know how to mix a potion without turning it into swamp goo, huh?”

“Actually, I mastered potion-making at a young age. I created an elixir capable of reviving withered flora.”

“Cool, cool. Can you tell me how any of that helps the prefect with our history homework?” Ace shot back, leaning closer to you.

Malleus frowned. “History is one of my strongest subjects.”

“Oh my Seven—” Ace groaned and threw his hands up. “We get it. You’re ancient!”

You looked between them, confused. “Are you two okay?”

“Perfectly fine,” Malleus said smoothly.

“Great! I was just explaining history to Deuce,” Ace lied shamelessly.

Lunch was another battlefield. Ace had secured a seat next to you and was recounting a funny story involving Grim, a mop, and a very angry caterpillar monster.

“…and then Grim screamed so loud, I think half the campus heard him! Right, Prefect?” Ace said, nudging you.

Before you could respond, the shadow of a tall figure fell over the table.

“Malleus,” Ace said with a forced grin. “Didn’t see you there. Like, at all.”

“I thought I would join you,” Malleus said, sitting directly across from you, his gaze unwavering. “Do you require assistance with your meal? Perhaps I could conjure something more fitting for your taste.”

“Okay, that’s just cheating,” Ace muttered under his breath.

“Conjuring food is a skill that requires great control,” Malleus said casually. “It’s a shame some rely solely on mediocre cafeteria fare.”

“Oh, so now the chicken nuggets aren’t good enough for you?” Ace snapped.

“They lack refinement,” Malleus said.

“Yeah? Well, you lack… I dunno, vibes!” Ace countered.

You blinked. “Ace, are you okay? You’re yelling about chicken nuggets.”

“Y-Yeah, I’m good,” Ace mumbled, shoving a nugget in his mouth to shut himself up.

The tension boiled over during a school festival. There was a dance competition, and both Ace and Malleus signed up for one reason: to win your attention.

Ace went first, pulling off a routine filled with flashy moves that he definitely stole from a popular video. The crowd cheered, and you clapped the loudest.

“Not bad, right?” Ace said, slightly out of breath but grinning. “Bet I’m the first guy you’ve seen dance like that.”

Before you could respond, Malleus stepped onto the stage.

“I shall now perform a traditional dance of my homeland,” he announced.

It was graceful, mesmerizing, and undeniably magical—literally. The lights dimmed, and green flames swirled around him as he moved with perfect precision. The crowd was silent, utterly captivated.

Ace stood next to you, slack-jawed. “I… I can’t compete with that.”

You turned to him with a smile. “I thought your dance was amazing too.”

Ace lit up like a firework. “Y-Yeah? You mean that?”

Malleus, mid-spin, glanced at you both. His expression darkened.

Eventually, the competition escalated to new heights of absurdity. Ace baked you cookies, only to find out Malleus had hand-carved you a jewelry box. Malleus enchanted roses to bloom eternally, and Ace countered by organizing a surprise karaoke night with all your favorite songs.

But when you tripped and both of them scrambled to catch you, the ridiculousness reached its peak.

“You caught their hand,” Malleus said, an edge to his voice.

“And you caught their other hand!” Ace snapped.

You, still mid-air, sighed. “Can someone just catch me completely next time?”

Despite their antics, one thing was clear: they both adored you. And while their rivalry was exasperating, it was also… kind of sweet.

Well, for you, anyway. For them? Not so much.

Masterlist

[defiantdreamlandstudent]

Fictional Con Artists are often modern day Robin Hood types. Take from the rich, give to the poor. Blah Blah Blah Real Life Con Artists are probably something like 99.99% predatory. And like all predators, they're constantly weighing up the risks versus the rewards. A cheetah (who has more redeeming qualities than a con artist) will weigh up whether expending that precious energy and risking the gazelles horns are worth the risk of the attempt. To feed themselves and their young. Sometimes they win, sometimes they lose. Real Life Con Artists might tell themselves they do it for the same reasons but they do not. Not really. There are millions of ways to make a living. Not all of them are good admittedly, but Con 'Artists' chose and continue to choose to make money by victimizing fellow human beings. And like a predator they prefer prey that can't fight back or who can be taken enough by surprise that they themselves risk nothing. In animals, it's the law of the wild. It can be forgiven. They do what they must as a (near?) obligate carnivore to survive. In humans? It runs the gamut between them being rank snivelling little cowards, and the sort of hard and cynical selfish sociopathy that can justify doing anything to get ahead. The later kind probably like to mutter things like 'there's a sucker born every minute'. There's LOTs of types of human predators, as we should all be bitterly aware. This breed of predator is just the opportunistic little cartoonish self serving jackal type of predator who lust for wealth rather than other worse things like power or sex. I could say more, but frankly I'd just be retreading the same ground and someone else can probably say it better and more clearly. I will leave a single further note. I'm probably maligning Jackals and actual predator species, by in any way equating them with Con Artists. My apologies to real Jackals.

"con artist" is maybe the profession with the biggest gap between How Cool They Are In Media and How Cool They Are In Real Life

[yamumsyadadd]

the forgotten girl (2)

posted originally on my old account. will be posting twice weekly :)

Amelia Scott-Higgins was a person a lot of people looked up too. The winner of the 2019 Ballon d’Or who was just 21 at the time. She was an inspiration on and off the field, so you can imagine everyone’s shock when she disappeared. Only a few know the gruesome details of her injuries, and those happen to be Barcelona players Lucy Bronze and Keira Walsh. Alexia Putellas had always admired her, as a person and a player. 

“Do you think we could convince her to join us? We need a striker and she is the best!” Jana excitedly said to Alexia, Mapi and Ingrid as they walked into the locker room. 

“No, she was the best. Past tense.” Ingrid said. 

“Ale you could totally convince her! You guys were friends no?” Jana’s words were loud through the quiet locker room. 

“Who are you convincing?” The English accent through the Spanish was still very clear to this day and unmistakably came from Lucy. 

“Amelia Scott-Higgins! She’s living in Barcelona and Ale used to be her friend! We need her Luce!” 

“No. Understand what I am about to say. No one here is to contact Milly and ask her to play. No one is to ask her to come to a game or to hang out. She has been through enough and you will all leave her the hell alone.” Keira spoke extremely firmly. No one has heard her talk like that before. 

“Kei, come on they don’t know.” 

“That’s exactly right Lucy. They don’t know. You all think she’s this amazing footballer and want her to play, but she went through some fucked up shit. She doesn’t want to play, she doesn’t want to watch. She wants to be left alone so that’s exactly what everyone is going to do: leave her alone.” The locker door slammed as Keira left. She would protect Amelia now, since she couldn’t before. 

Before it all happened, Keira, Leah and Amelia were inseparable. The group was formed at a football event the first year Amelia moved over to the UK, in 2014, at just 16 years old. Emily played with Man City, alongside Keira, Lucy and Georgia. Despite playing at different clubs, they always made time for each other. The unlikely friendship with Alexia Putellas started in 2017, after both signing with Nike and having to do a campaign. Both girls were socially awkward, they sat in silence for most the day until Alexia invited Amelia to dinner. From there on out, they were very close friends. 

Alexia struggled with the fame, Amelia did not. She was able to offer advice to Alexia, sharing ways to keep relationships private, or how to compartmentalise. Alexia didn’t even get a text off of Amelia when it all happened. She had flown to England to attend the funeral. A numb, bruised and bandaged shell of a friend stood before them all. 

“You knew Amelia?” Olga asked quietly over dinner the night after their run in. 

“Yeah. I knew both Amelia and Emily.” The sadness evident in Alexia’s voice. 

“Why’d she quit? I googled her. She won the Ballon d’Or and UEFAs best player. What happened?” 

“Her wife was murdered and she was hurt. I don’t even think I can begin to explain the type of player she was. She was easily the best player the world has ever seen. No matter what, she worked hard. She cared, if a person got hurt you’d know because Amelia was there first. After her opponents lost, she wouldn’t celebrate her win, she’d go around and tell them everything they did well, hug them and let them cry. I went to the funeral, she was just a shell. Covered in bruises and bandages, in a wheelchair. Then she just vanished. On the first anniversary of Emily’s death, she deleted every single social media she had, changed her number and quit football. I hadnt seen her since, apparently Keira and Lucy hadn’t either.” 

“that’s a lot for one person to go through. Where are her parents?” 

“Doesn’t have any. They died when she was little, from what she shared she was in foster care in Australia until they let her come to the UK”

“Maybe you should invite her for dinner? She could use a friend.”

“No. YOU should invite her. You’re someone who she doesn’t know and you two seemed to hit it off.” 

Olga didn’t tell Alexia, or anyone for that matter, but Amelia had followed her on instagram that night after they met. Seemingly on a private, almost anonymous account. Olga had no plans to force Amelia back into football or back into Alexia’s life, but the more she learnt the more she wanted to ensure she wasn’t alone in this world. 

Every morning, Alexia would run along the beach. It was usually quiet and calm since Spain generally didn’t wake up until later in the morning. Every morning, she would watch the same surfer. Scars scattered on her legs, one long scar from the back of her hip, across her torso. Alexia knew it was Amelia, but she never stopped to say hello, not until that morning. 

The morning that would change things. 

[fairytaleendingss]

Room for One More?

Chapter 2

Summary: Your rivalry with Remus continues as you spend a night out with his friends at Sirius’ concert.

CW: Alcohol Consumption, mentions of vomit (briefly), references to sex.

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x reader

Chapter 1

—

A few days later and you were finally settling into your new home. And as far as roommates go, the boys were pretty good ones.

James was usually out early in the morning at the gym or Rugby training and he’d often return with coffees for everyone. Sirius was a natural born entertainer and always had a joke or a silly anecdote to amuse you with when you returned home from work.

It was just Remus that hadn’t warmed up to you yet. However, you had no idea why. You’d done everything you could think of to win him over. You cleaned up the kitchen for him before he got home from his lectures, you left extra for him when cooking dinner, you even offered to do his laundry when he was too busy studying for upcoming exams. But still, nothing. No matter what you did, you were greeted with a cold disinterest and one word answers.

By the time the weekend rolled around, you were exhausted, both from him and your long week at work. You were hugely looking forward to Sirius’ show. You figured it’d be the perfect way to unwind.

—

You were squashed into a booth next to James and a girl named Dorcas, twirling your straw in your hand.

The bar was full, thick with energy and cigarette smoke. It was dimly lit, some dive down a back alley. Apparently Sirius and his band played here every Saturday night.

“So y/n! Mary tells me you want to be a writer!” Lily called across the table, barely audible over the clattering of glasses and loud talking that filled the room

“Yeah, it’s something I’m working towards,” you replied. “Although I’ve been working on my novel for a couple of years now but it’s still not quite there yet.”

“Oh cool!” Peter chimed in. He was sitting beside his girlfriend Sybil, a hand around hers under the table. They looked positively smitten with each other. It reminded you of how glaringly single you were.

“What’s your book about?” Dorcas asked.

You sighed. “I guess you could call it a fantasy.”

“Oh is it one of those ones about wizards and magic and stuff?” James pondered enthusiastically.

“I mean, kind of? Not really.” You replied.

“Oh good,” Dorcas mused. “I don’t really like those kinds of stories. I’ve always found them to be a bit childish. I mean, the idea of wizards living amongst us? it’s a bit absurd if you ask me.”

You giggled. “Yes well, I’d say mine is more of a high fantasy. Anyway, enough about me. What do you all do for work?”

You took a sip of your drink.

“Well, I’m a primary school teacher.” Lily offered.

“Oh wow. And how do enjoy that?”

She giggled, her dimples appearing as she did. You had to admit, she was stunningly beautiful, with long auburn hair and astonishing sea-foam eyes. You understood why James had been pining after her for so long.

“I love it,” she responded. “It’s wonderful knowing you’re able to shape a young person’s life.”

“That sounds really rewarding,” you responded.

“It is,” she smiled. “But it’s far from impressive compared to what some of the others do. I mean, Dorcas here is a lawyer and Remus is studying to be a doctor!”

Eyes fell on Remus and you watched as he recoiled slightly under the attention.

As the conversation drew on, you learned that Peter was a Banker, Sybil read tarot cards for a living and Dorcas’ girlfriend Marlene played lead guitar in Sirius’ band.

“Just wait until you see her,” Mary exclaimed. “She’s incredible.”

“I’m looking forward to it!” You replied. You took another sip of your drink and realised you’d finished your glass. Upon looking around the table you saw that the others were in a similar position.

“Looks like I’m in need of a refill. Next round is on me guys!”

There was a slew of cheers from the group as you slid out of the booth and made your way towards the bar. You placed your order and then took a seat on a stool as you waited for the drinks to be made.

You were scrolling through instagram when you felt a presence beside you. Looking up, your heart sank slightly when you noticed it was Remus.

“I thought you could use some help carrying everything,” he muttered, taking a seat beside you.

“Thanks but I think I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah well, I could use some space. The table was getting a little crowded.”

Your eyes raked over his figure, you saw the was he was nervously fiddling with his hands. It dawned on you that maybe the bar scene wasn’t really his thing so much as it was his friends’. He seemed to be a little overwhelmed.

“Okay,” you relented.

A few drinks were placed on a tray in front of you, and Remus reached out to grab his, taking a long sip. Your eyebrows raised.

“You’re drinking straight whisky? That’s pretty hardcore.”

“It’s referred to as a whisky neat,” he responded matter-of-factly (as if you hadn’t been the one to order it for him). “And it really isn’t that bad. I have a pretty high alcohol tolerance. Why? What did you order.”

“A gin and tonic.”

“Exactly my point.”

Your eyes narrowed as you looked up at him. You could help but scoff.

“Are you implying that I can’t hold my alcohol?”

Remus shrugged, taking another sip. “I’m just saying that some people have a higher tolerance is all.”

A mix of irritation and downright anger began to build in your gut. You’d had enough of him. His coldness towards you, his constant condescending remarks. Fuck it, you thought, I’m done being nice. If he wanted to start something, then so be it.

“Fine,” you challenged. “If you’re so sure about that, £20 says that I can out-drink you tonight.”

He turned to face you, a brow quirked questioningly.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

You rolled your eyes. “Just shake on it, Remus.”

“Fine. It’s your funeral.”

You shook hands. Then you turned to the bartender.

“Excuse me, I’d like to change my order. Could I get a whisky, neat?”

—

The band came on around 10pm and the crowd cheered wildly.

Sirius was the first to enter, clad in black and leather, looking like a true rockstar.

His eyes twinkled beneath the stage lights. Even on the narrow bar stage, he managed to look ethereal.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?”

The crowd roared once more, you among them.

“That’s good! We’re Snakes and Lions and we have a few songs to play for you. Is that alright?”

The crowed cheered again.

As the first notes of the song trickled through the room, you couldn’t help but stare up at Sirius. His long flowing hair, the tattoos that peaked out from under his black tank top, the way his eyeliner brought out the grey of his eyes.

A glance to Remus beside you, told you he was feeling the same way. He was staring up at Sirius like he was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. And you couldn’t blame him.

Still, you felt and odd pang of jealously shoot through your gut.

You decided to push it down, instead venturing to the bar for another drink.

As the set drew on, you could feel yourself beginning to sway, not only from the music but also the alcohol in your blood.

The room began to blur in a dizzying haze and you found yourself leaning into James who stood beside you, for support.

You continued to watch Sirius perform, entranced by the way he moved around the stage, his voice baring into your very soul.

At one point, when he he introduced the band (Barty on drums, Marlene on lead guitar, Evan on rhythm guitar and his little brother Regulus on bass), he sent you a wink and you felt your heart leap in your chest. You felt like you were watching a celebrity.

Still, amidst the music, your mind continued to wander to Remus. Your bet had carried on and you continued to down drink after drink out of sheer spite.

You were determined to beat him. Determined to prove that you could hold your own, that there was a spot for you in his home, whether he liked it or not.

By the time the band finished playing, you were far past the point of no return.

—

There was a light on somewhere. It was too bright, shining directly into your eyes. You groaned and rolled over, sinking in to your mattress. You tried to go back to sleep but you couldn’t. You needed to get up and turn the light off.

As you blinked your eyes open, you realised the light wasn’t in fact coming from the ceiling but from a window.

That’s odd, you thought, I don’t remember there being a window there.

The room was blurry as you looked around. It was clearly morning, that much you could tell, and there was a throbbing pain in your head. Last night was definitely a mistake.

It was then that your gaze fell on the football paraphernalia that sat on the dresser and the framed jersey that hung above it.

You shot upwards like a bullet, your eyes widening as you glanced around the space.

This wasn’t your room. It was James.

You gasped loudly as you looked down at yourself. Fuck! You were in your underwear.

You frantically looked around the space, searching for anything you could use to cover up. There was a black t-shirt thrown over a chair in the corner.

A sniff told you it was clean and you hastily threw it on, not caring right then that it wasn’t yours.

It didn’t cover much but it’d have to do for now.

It was at that moment the door swung open. You froze, wide eyed like a deer caught in the headlights.

James just looked you up and down for a moment, balancing a cup of coffee in each hand.

“Oh good. You’re up.”

“W-what happened last night?” You blurted out in a panic.

“You don’t remember?” The boy queried, moving to place the coffees down on the bedside table.

You shook your head.

“We didn’t… ah? You know?”

“Oh no! Nothing like that! We didn’t sleep together if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through your hair in relief.

“Oh. Okay. Good.”

James just smirked. “Oh no, it’s much more embarrassing than that.”

You looked up at him nervously, feeling your cheeks grow hot. “Shit. What did I do?”

James moved to stand in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, muscles in his biceps flexing as he did.

“Well, you stumbled into my room at 2:30 in the morning complaining you were bored.”

You grimaced.

“Then you collapsed in my bed and refused to leave. Which I didn’t mind, by the way. But then you complained that it was too hot and insisted on taking your clothes off. I barely stopped you from getting completely naked. You were on a mission.”

You groaned as he chuckled at the story.

“James, I’m so sorry.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve all been there.”

“What? Mostly naked in our roommates bed?”

He snorted. “Yeah sure. Something like that.”

He gestured towards the coffee that sat on the bedside table and you took a sip, letting the warm drink sooth your aching throat.

“I’m sure you have a hell of a hangover,” he sympathised. “Why don’t you finish your coffee and then go and have a shower while I whip up some breakfast.”

You smiled up at him gently. “James, you don’t have to-“

“Stop apologising,” he cut you off. “I’m happy to. Besides, what are roommates for if not to make you meals?”

—

It was a while before you re-emerged, having showered and now wearing clothes that were your own. You weren’t bothered to dry your hair though. You resigned to let it drip down your back.

You trudged into the living area to see that the rest of the boys had beaten you there.

James was standing in the kitchen cooking what smelt suspiciously (and deliciously) like bacon.

Sirius was lounging on the sofa, half watching a random action movie that was playing on the TV, set to low volume.

You assumed that choice was made for the benefit of Remus who looked a wreck. He was sitting at the dining table, face down with his head resting on his arms.

An evil sense of satisfaction washed over you when you realised that he was nursing a hangover just as bad as your own.

“Well!” You made sure to exclaim loudly, smacking your hands down hard on the table as you took a seat across from Remus.

He flinched and groaned as he sat up, sending you an irritable look.

“Last night was fun.”

Sirius chuckled from his across the room. “For some of us more so than others.”

“Y/n definitely had fun,” James teased as he approached the table, placing a plate of bacon and eggs before you. You slapped him playfully on the arm as he walked away.

You glanced around the room as you began to eat, your brows furrowing when you noticed something odd out of the window.

“Guys, why’s the pot plant out on the balcony?”

“I’m airing it out,” Sirius said absent-mindedly. “Remus threw up in it last night.”

A delighted smirk overtook your features. “Did he now?”

The boy just groaned, thumping his head back down onto the table.

“Here mate,” James stated, placing a plate of food down beside his head. “Eat something, it’ll make you feel better.”

You had to admit, you did feel better after some food. And James was a bloody good cook.

Then, suddenly an idea flitted through your mind.

“Did anyone keep a copy of the tab from last night?”

“Yeah I’ve got it in my wallet, why?” James confirmed.

“Could I see it please?”

He placed the receipt in front of you on the table and you began to add up the drinks that you remembered yourself and Remus ordering.

“Aha!” You shouted after a moment, jumping up and walking around the table. Remus looked up at you, displeased.

“I beat you! Pay up!”

“What’s this?” Sirius questioned curiously.

“Remus bet me £20 that he could out drink me and I proved him wrong!” You exclaimed.

“Hey, don’t put this on me,” Remus muttered. “It was her idea.”

“It looks like you’ve been a bad influence on our poor Remus,” James teased.

“Yeah, he never usually drinks that much,” Sirius added.

You looked at him suspiciously. “Huh? Really? That was big game you talked last night.”

“Remus is all talk,” Sirius joked. “Deep down he’s really just a little softy.”

“Fuck off, all of you,” the boy groaned.

“Not until I get my £20!”

James barked out a laugh.

“Come on buddy,” he stated in Remus’ direction. “You heard the girl, pay up!”

—

Taglist:

@hisparentsgallerryy

@navs-bhat

@shushbruv

[mischiefmaker615]

No Nut November

Summary: Loki discovering “No Nut November” and thinks this Midgardian Tradition is a must. Better try to get as much of you as possible before he’s cut off.

Rating: PG14

Note: I'm publishing this on the 27th of November Lol better late than never.

The sound of a lap top slamming shut was enough to make you nearly jump out of your skin. Quickly looking up from your book, you see from across the room your boyfriend coyly making his way over to you with that ‘I’m up to something’ smile.

‘’may I help you, good sir?” you tease with an attempt to copy his smile, causing him to chuckle and join you on the couch with his hand taking its rightful place on your thigh.

‘’have I told you today how attractive I find you?” he asked gently, his other hand reaching up to slowly brush a lock of your hair behind your ear while you set your book aside on the table.

‘’yes, you have, twice actually.’’ You smile, your face leaning a bit into his hand that now moved to cup your cheek. ‘’what seems to have gotten you in such a mood?”

‘’mood? Can’t one significant other simply enjoy the beauty of their significant other?” he asked with obvious dramatic innocence while his eyes flicked down to your lips.

His whole attitude seems.. off. He had toned it down with all the pranks, especially towards you so perhaps this was just pent-up mischief he finally needed to let out. raising your guard a bit, you knew there was a slight risk of him finally springing on you the “gotcha part” so your body instantly tensed while your hands rested on his own upon your thigh with a painted-on smile.

‘’but of course, but you do seem to be acting a bit different all the same.. are you okay?” you asked, concern now flashing in consideration while you gave him a look over as if he had any obvious injuries but his finger merely placed itself under your chin to bring your gaze back onto his own.

‘’I’m quite alright darling, the idea of having the tower to ourselves for a couple of hours today has merely given me.. inspiration of how we could simply utilize our time.’’ He said simply, an unspoken conversation laying behind what he just said but he didn’t give you much of a chance to push before you felt him lean forward and press his lips gently against yours.

All thoughts were gone as usual and you quickly reciprocated by pressing back into him, your hum being swallowed by his moan before he began leaning more forward and got you to lay on your back. His body hovered over yours, palms and forearms pressed down beside your arms to hold up his weight from crushing you while his groin gave you’re the pressure you craved.

He was a teaser, and you often didn’t win if you tried to tease him back while moving your hips up to meet his own, earning a growl before he would snatch your bottom lip between his teeth. Your hands rose up to tangle In his hair, feeling his body lower onto yours more while he hummed and leaned into your fingers.

‘’what did you say about utilizing our time?” you hinted, already a hand traveling between your bodies until you found his zipper, seeing how he smirked down at you with his forehead pressing against yours.

‘’let’s make the most of it darling’’ he winked before his lips crashed onto yours again.

~ you panted, practically stumbling out of the closet on wobbly legs while one hand tried to get your hair into place while the other hand pulled up your shirt that had fallen down your shoulder. You looked utterly wiped out. content, but wiped out.

Loki strolled out not to soon after before he came up behind you, dressed already with the help of his magic and his hands back on your hips.

‘’aren’t you sated?” you hinted with an exhausted sigh, having finished yet another session with Loki while he pressed his already back-to-hard erection against your ass.

‘’with you darling? I will never tire..’’ he purred, his chin resting upon your shoulder where he turned his face a little to press kisses on your cheek while his hands glided down towards your zipper.

‘’Loki- give me a minute..!” you squeaked, swatting his hands away where you continued to straighten out your outfit and wiggle out of his grasp.

Already this was the third time you both had been intimate today- this time having to duck in the closet with some of the team arriving home early, and still he wasn’t exhausted. Granted.. he never was, but you both normally never went at it this much in this short amount of time- within two hours.

‘’I will be happy to get you some water love, if it is privacy you are concerned with, I could meet you in our bedroom?” he offered as if it were the most innocent thing in the world while you turned around to look at him.

‘’do Asgardians go through some.. mating.. ritual or something?” you asked, running your fingers through your hair while you leaned yourself against the wall for support with the mild soreness nagging between your legs.

Loki laughed while he waved a hand, a glass of water formulating in his palm before he skillfully moved it towards you. ‘’what are you referring to love?”

‘’well..’’ you started, drawing in a breath before you took the glass of water and swirled it around, your eyes captivated at the liquid while you try to search for proper words. ‘’you seem to be in the mood.. a lot more than usual..’’ said with your free hand indicating in the air ‘hypothetically’.

Loki raised a brow as if you had spoken in another language for the first time while he extended a hand out towards you. Your eyes watched, turning your head a little so he could caress your cheek but it merely passed to rest beside your head upon the wall. Looking back at him, he stood much closer than he had with a soft yet serious look on his face.

‘’you are delectable darling, I don’t wish to lose a single moment with you..’’ he said quietly, making you bring your hand up to rest against his cheek.

‘’you’ll never lose me Loki, I promise,-‘’ you reassured, seeing how his eyes closed by the feeling of your touch until your own dropped to where his other hand was going. ‘’Loki..’’ you warned where he cupped your sex over your pants.

‘’merely healing you darling, I know you must be sore.’’ He answered without opening his eyes and a tingly yet warm feeling seemed to wash over where his hand was, making you squirm but he made sure he kept a hold. His other hand left the wall to use a single finger to tip the glass up and tilt so you could begin drinking- your words cut off to drink before he finally pulled away entirely and opened his eyes.

‘’..thank you..’’ you said with a gentle smile, soreness gone and cup empty where he nodded and flicked his wrist, the cup vanished from your fingers before his hands took both of yours.

‘’alright darling, I’ve been more than generous with the mere minute you’ve requested. Let us continue,’’ he smirked, the hungry familiar look flashed in his eyes that made your body tense and shiver at the same time.

‘’Loki please-! We just-‘’

A simple flash was all that was seen before you both found yourself upon your bed, bouncing a little while he wasted no time to climb on top.

~

You rolled over onto your stomach, blowing a strand of hair from your face while your body slumped and panted amongst the white sheets that tangled around your body. His body hovered above yours, his chest to your back while his hand reached around to gently grip your jaw and hold your head up to look towards the mirror in front of you both.

A sight to be seen and one that would definitely make you wet if you weren’t so sore again with the other three rounds that followed the previous three rounds.

‘’please Loki.. no more..’’ you mumbled, dick drunk while your fingers gripped the sheets below you.

‘’do you require healing again darling? Tell me where you’re sore..’’ he whispered, seeming to have energy for days while he buried his face in your hair with a deep inhale.

‘’we’ve never done it this much before..’’ you sighed while you raised yourself upon your forearms while your eyes watched him in the mirror.

‘’not that your complaining?” he gently teased while he brought your earlobe between his teeth, a quote you’d often say but today if hadn’t left you mouth.

‘’no it’s just.. what were you looking at on the computer this morning?” you asked, your eyes closing to try to concentrate while his other hand moved under you to fondle on of your breasts, his body resting comfortably half way on top of you with his hard on ‘still’ pressed against your ass.

‘’..why do you ask darling?” he asked after a moment, a topic he seemed to want to avoid while he felt you move about under him.

Raising himself a bit, he let you roll over onto your back so he could lay directly on top of you, your eyes searching his while his own seemed to hide something that had flashed.

‘’tell me.’’

Your gentle yet stern words made him sigh, knowing it was a simple method to demand truth that he couldn’t deny if he wished for your happiness later,. Or body. His body- the rest of him- got noticeably tenser while his eyes glanced up into the mirror, almost as if trying to convince himself to tell you before he looked back down to your waiting orbs.

‘’your.. Midgardian traditions startle me darling.. this is the last week we have with each other before I cannot have you for an entire month..’’

The sentence seemed to feel like it took three business days to register. You blinked up at him as if he hadn’t said the punch line yet, or to continue explaining but he seemed to give you the same look for you to understand it. ‘’..what are you talking ab- what Midgardian tradition?” you asked, shaking your head to rid of your confusion that seemed to share in his expression.

‘’..no nut November.’’

Your eyes widened at him, searching his dead serious eyes while you felt the beginning feeling of laughter boil inside you. Turning your head to the side, you began laughing, a hand pressed to your forehead while your middle arched and tensed from the humor fit.

Loki stared down at you, a brow raised while he slowly narrowed his eyes, taking hold of your wrists to pin you down while you caught your breath and smiled up at him.

‘’Loki, I don’t know the full origin of no nut November, but I guarantee you it is not a holiday or tradition.’’

‘’but it said-‘’

‘’what did I tell you about the internet?” you smiled, trying to hold back giggles while he exhaled in frustration.

‘’.. to not just read and go based off the first article that pops up.’’

‘’and did you?’’

‘’…’’

‘’Loki, you literally thought we weren’t going to have sex for an entire month after this week? Is that why you were trying to get us much sex while you still coul-‘’

‘’why is the first article not stating truth-? Better yet, why do you Midgardians have fake information.’’ He grumbled and slumped against you, his face buried in the crook of your neck while his body began relaxing.

It would seem he was just as tired as you.

You still couldn’t wipe the smile from your face, the humor of it all making you giggle now and again and would earn a nip on your collarbone from Loki every time he heard it. Wrapping your arms around him, your hands lazily stroked his skin, enjoying the toned muscles of his back while you closed your eyes and enveloped your senses with his scent.

‘’care for a nap?” you whispered, feeling him softly nod against you without moving much from his position while you smiled and nuzzled your face closer against him.

After a moment, your eyes fluttered open with a grumble.

‘’….. Loki-‘’

‘’I can’t help it darling, you’re so delectable...’’ 

Note: Have a Happy Thanksgiving my friends :D

Tag List: @foxherder13 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @fire-in-her-veinz @nervouseden @kathren1sky-blog @eleniblue @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @queenofstarsign85 @slytherinqueen4life @soulpiercing @yelkmelk @gruftiela @buttercupcookies-blog

[iamgonnagetyouback]

james potter x reader where the others scheme a date

Hogsmeade weekends were supposed to be chill. Stroll around, grab some Butterbeer, have an actual good time. But no, not when you had this group of friends.

The day had started innocently enough. You, James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, and Peter were wandering through the cobbled streets of the village, the chilly air nipping at your cheeks. James, as always, walked a little too close, his shoulder bumping into yours every so often. Sirius was laughing loudly at something ridiculous, while Peter was fumbling with a packet of chocolate frogs.

“Honestly,” you said, smirking at Remus, “You’re absolutely wrong, Lupin,”

“I’m not,” Remus raised an eyebrow, adjusting the scarf around his neck. “The book clearly states—”

“Oh, here we go. The book states,” you interrupted, waving your hand in the air mockingly. “I didn’t realize we were hanging out with Hogwarts: A History today.”

Sirius snorted. “Shots fired, Moony.”

“You can’t win against her,” James said with a grin, adjusting his glasses. “Just give in now, mate.”

“Never,” Remus replied, clutching his imaginary pearls. “Unlike some people, I don’t concede to chaos.”

“You concede to chocolate,” you countered, smirking.

The banter continued until Sirius abruptly stopped, spinning around with a dramatic flourish that made his cloak billow like he thought he was some kind of medieval prince. “Actually, as riveting as this has been” he began, his tone suspiciously casual, “I think I’m gonna pop into Honeydukes. Anyone want to join?”

“Sure!” Lily chirped, adjusting her hat.

“I could do with some sweets,” Remus said, eyeing Sirius skeptically but playing along.

“Count me in,” Peter added, already salivating at the thought of fudge.

You blinked, slightly caught off guard. “Wait, are we all going? James, you coming?”

James opened his mouth, likely to say yes, but Sirius slapped a hand against his chest, stopping him. “Oh, no. Nope. Negative. Not happening.”

You frowned, looking between Sirius and James. “Uh, why not?”

“Yeah, why not?” James echoed, shoving Sirius’ hand away.

Lily chimed in smoothly, her expression far too innocent. “Because the car only fits four people, love.”

James squinted at her. “Lils, we walked here. Together. On foot. As a group.”

“Exactly,” Remus cut in, a suspicious glint in his eye. “And now we’re heading back... by foot. But separately. To balance out the symmetry.”

“Symmetry?” you repeated, your eyebrows shooting up.

“Yes,” Peter said, nodding vigorously. “It’s... the rules of the village. Hogsmeade law. Very strict. Four people max per... Honeydukes visit. And symmetry.”

The four of them shuffled off, muttering a chorus of nonsensical excuses. “Very strict rules... totally official... you’ll understand when you’re older...”

You and James stood frozen in the middle of the street, watching them disappear into the distance.

“What just happened?” you asked after a moment, turning to James, bewildered.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, his expression caught between amusement and disbelief. “I think we’ve been abandoned.”

You squinted toward Honeydukes, where your friends were very obviously not adhering to any “symmetry laws” and instead stuffing their faces with sweets through the window.

“Well,” James said, his voice suddenly hopeful, “I guess it’s just us then.” He grinned at you, his cheeks pink from the cold. “Wanna make it a date?”

Your heart flipped at the word date, but you played it cool, tilting your head dramatically. “Hmm. I don’t know, Potter. What’s in it for me?”

He leaned in just slightly, his grin turning cheeky. “A lifetime of my charming company, of course.”

You laughed, nudging him with your shoulder. “Oh, well, in that case... lead the way.”

As the two of you wandered off toward The Three Broomsticks, your laughter echoing through the chilly air, you couldn’t help but glance back toward Honeydukes. Sirius caught your eye through the window, winking as he shoved a licorice wand into his mouth.

“Idiots,” you muttered fondly, shaking your head.

James didn’t seem to mind one bit.

[cheqorb]

Sotto Voce.

Gaslighting everyone into believing you’re a really shit footballer because seeing people be impressed by your sheer lack of skill is more fun than being a genius.

FEAT. Bastard München ensemble

NOTES. uhhaua cross posted on ao3 (same user) but ajyway, thought this idea was funny and because of this lingering feeling of sadness i haha managed to Complete this?? Gosh im beside myself with worry!!

WORD COUNT. 2.2k

Isagi thinks he might be seeing things. Maybe all the relentless training in Blue Lock has finally caught up to him, leading him into a football-induced delirium, because he can’t quite comprehend what he’s looking at right now.

You’re moving across the field with a fluidity he’s only seen in pro-level players, doing tricks and turns he’s pretty sure aren’t even in his playbook. You glide past the defence, controlling the ball with a finesse that’s nearly supernatural — hell, he thinks even someone of Rin’s calibre would be breaking a sweat to try and keep up.

And you look bored while doing it. Eyes half-lidded, posture almost lazy, as if this is just another walk in the park and not you showing off world-class football technique.

Isagi’s mind races to make sense of this. You’d always been, well, normal to him.

Sometimes you’d play in a match, most other times you’d sit out on the sidelines. And he’s usually pretty sharp about these things, so it must’ve been because you just… didn’t stand out.

Yet here you are, pulling off flawless plays with little more than a mild yawn, as if winning against the top players here would barely register on your radar. Maybe it’s just luck, some freakish one-off, right?

… Nope. You just drilled another perfect goal into the top corner of the net.

He snaps out of his thoughts only when you suddenly stop mid-play, and his eyes meet yours. For a second, there’s a flicker of panic in your gaze and he opens his mouth, not even sure what he’s about to say.

“Y/N-”

You’re stomping towards him before he can even process the whole thing, your pace quicker and more full of menace than he’s used to seeing on you. You stop just short of him, tilt your head slightly, and in the calmest voice, say, “You saw nothing.”

He tries to stammer out something, but you leave soon afterwards.

────

Tripping over the ball is harder than it looks, but after enough practice, you’ve perfected the art of falling in a normal fashion. To most people, it’s convincing. Prior to a few days ago, you’d say all people but there’s a certain someone who entertains himself by boring holes into the back of your skull with an intense, unblinking stare.

You can feel it. Isagi waiting for you to slip up.

Actually slip up, instead of the falls you’ve gotten so good at imitating. It’s detestable, honestly. You’re trying to keep things as they’ve always been, and he just wants to come in and mess with the status quo!

Luckily for you, Igaguri’s too much of an idiot to harbour the same suspicions. Right now he’s too busy practically doubling over with laughter on the floor. The guy is probably thrilled to finally see someone playing the fool even more than he does. And as much as he’s a pain, he’s also the kind of person who makes perfect cover — play the role of an idiot, laugh it off with him, and everyone’s none the wiser.

So, in spite of your (what most would call) vindictive description of him, you do believe that some sort of strange pleasure is to be gained from surrounding yourself with people like him. Though perhaps that also makes you a terrible person.

The feeling is nothing like the rationale that Noa preaches about so often. It’s an undeniable truth in your heart.

Which is why you avoid the people who actually know what they’re doing on the field like the plague.

Yukimiya, on the other hand, is way too polite to laugh outright. He at least has the common sense to stifle it, reaching out a hand to help you off the ground with a quiet charm that makes people swoon. No wonder he’s a model.

Now, the imaginary audience in your mind might be wondering why you’re talking with a guy like him? Your answer: he’s not as notable ever since he patched things up with Isagi. He’s now the kind of person you can talk to without raising any brows. Again, it sounds harsh but you see it in a positive light. He’s becoming just the kind of person you adore most!

“Try and keep a close eye for stuff on the ground, alright?”

You flash him a grin, nodding. “You know me, just a total klutz all the time,” you reply as your usual happy-go-lucky self, making sure to project just loud enough for Isagi to hear.

And out of the corner of your eye, you catch that familiar look of suspicion deepening.

────

The silence that follows is brutal. Hiori and Kurona exchange a look that’s way too long for Isagi’s comfort. After finishing whatever telepathic debate they have with each other, they both stare back at him like he’s just pitched the most psychotic theory imaginable (which isn’t entirely untrue).

“You don’t believe me, do you?” he mutters, deflating a bit.

Hiori’s quick to reply, but Isagi is aware of the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes. “It’s not that we don’t believe you. But, ya have to admit, it’s strange to hear Y/N… of all people, doing something like that.”

That’s code for what the fuck are you talking about, Isagi concludes with a grimace, his eyes shifting to Kurona hopefully.

“Crazy. Crazy.”

Kurona’s tone is deadpan, his gaze distant as if he’s trying not to laugh. Great.

Isagi sighs heavily, scrubbing a hand over his face. Maybe he is the one who’s going crazy here. It shouldn’t even bother him this much. It’s not like you’re particularly close! If anything, he can barely remember a conversation between the two of you that went beyond asking if you’d seen so and so.

And, judging by the responses he’s getting from both of his teammates, neither of them can figure out why he’s fixated on this either.

────

Noa is going on and on about practice drills, how to follow his instructions precisely, something about rationality and technique, blah, blah, blah. You stifle a yawn. If this is what being in one of the top clubs means, you should’ve begged Ego to be in Barcha instead. At least Lavinho would’ve been fun.

You hear his coaching style isn’t by any means phenomenal if you’re trying to improve your skills, but good thing you’re not planning on doing anything of the sort!

And just when you think you might actually pass out from boredom, you see Isagi walking over. Again. He’s approaching with that same cautious look, but it’s not enough to make him think twice about bothering you apparently. That’s also something that bugs you, he’s never a quitter.

You flash him an oblivious smile. “Oh, Isagi! Whatcha up to? Need anything from little ol’ me?”

You lay it on thick, voice dripping with cheerful innocence. His jaw tightens, and for a second, you swear you can see a flicker of annoyance on his face. That’s new. Your words have the opposite effect than what you had originally intended.

“Listen, I know what I saw, alright? You’re not fooling anyone.”

He launches into a whole spiel about how he’s seen you pull off moves that only high-level players can pull off, how he doesn’t care if it’s part of some large game you’re playing, how you should be using your skill to distinguish yourself.

…You really don’t give a shit, and in regards to his comments, you personally disagree! What’s the fun in doing all of that?

You tilt your head, pretending to think it over with wide, guileless eyes. Sure, you’re a little flattered he’s this invested in uncovering your “secret,” but the other 99% of you is totally unhappy.

When he finally wraps up his little speech, you just give him a half-hearted shrug with a smugness that he doesn’t miss.

“And who’s going to believe you?”

────

Kaiser likes to think of Isagi as predictable, average — someone who might fancy himself a hero but is ultimately just another small-time player waiting to be crushed. It’s almost laughable how seriously he takes himself. In fact, the only thing remotely worth mentioning about him recently is this bizarre fixation he seems to have developed on you.

He’s overheard your exchanges, and in short, they’re pathetic.

Isagi rambles on about how you’re hiding something, clinging to that delusion like it’s going to benefit him somehow. The psychology-lover inside him finds it almost fascinating in how utterly absurd it sounds.

So, when Kaiser spots you chatting with the ever despairing Grim (laughing so hard you have to hold back tears), he figures it wouldn’t be wrong to call you at least a little insane. Part of him wonders what humour could be found in the man’s deplorable monologues.

He figures he might as well join in on the entertainment. You’re far from his usual company, but you’ll do. For now. Moseying on over, his signature smirk is already in place.

He’s rewarded by the way your eyes immediately narrow in irritation, a look he’s all too familiar with and thoroughly enjoys on anyone really. Grim, blissfully unaware of what he’s leaving you to, heads off, and now it’s just you and Kaiser.

Leaning in closer, he asks, “What little secret of yours has got under Yoichi’s skin so badly?”

Kaiser waits, watching for the faintest flicker of reaction but you stay silent. How boring.

But! Not one to give up easily, he continues with a more direct jab, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. The one where he acts like he knows everything there is to know about everyone. “That you’re really skilled, and this whole clueless act of yours is just a cheap facade?”

He raises a brow, as if daring you to admit it. To his delight, you lift your head, finally meeting his gaze albeit with an uncomfortably polite smile.

“I was just surprised you’re interested in something like that. But, Isagi’s a total liar. Isn’t he just so annoying? I can’t stand people who just don’t know when to give up, and I’m sure you agree.”

It’s not often someone catches him off-guard, and though he recovers quickly, the flicker of surprise is still there. Kaiser also sees opportunity however. He could work with this.

“Well, if you’re not a fan of Yoichi then feel free to join my side then,” he drawls, offering the position like it’s a dream come true. In his world, he’s already the star; what better way to elevate himself than to recruit someone.

“Ah, no. You’re both terrible.”

He can’t tell what’s worse; you lumping him together with Isagi, or the fact that you immediately walk off without giving him a chance to get the last word in.

────

“It’s like asking me if I prefer cat shit or dog shit. It’s still shit, and there’s no point in picking one over the other.”

You toss the comparison out to Kiyora, of all people — a bit of a waste since he just stares blankly at you, not saying a word. Pretty cute, actually, in a clueless sort of way.

The reality is that, at the moment, if you want a shot at the regulars, you’re supposed to cosy up to either Isagi or Kaiser. And as for everyone else? They’re can either fuck off or pray for a miracle.

Of course, you couldn’t care less about making the regulars. But every now and then, you forget there are people around you who do care, people with actual ambitions. Which is why you pause when you catch sight of Hiori and Kurona.

“Oh, Hiori and Kurona,” you point out the obvious.

They both glance your way, casual and relaxed, which gives you the impression that Isagi hasn’t roped them into his latest paranoid theories. Yet.

“Are ya heading back to training already?” Hiori asks, his soft voice and accent making it sound more like an invitation than a question. There’s a kindness to it that’s almost unsettling here in Blue Lock, but you return his smile with one of your own nevertheless.

Kiyora gives a small nod. “Yeah,” he says, brief and to the point.

You’re half-considering some excuse to slip away and do your own thing, but there’s something about the way Hiori is looking at you that draws your attention. Unlike Isagi, he’s way better at hiding it, but you can still feel his curiosity prickle under your skin.

You give him a lazy smile, leaning into the idea. “I’m already so tired from this morning’s training,” you lie, exaggerating just enough. “Honestly, going to bed early sounds great right about now.”

Morning training was barely enough to get you sweating, just a couple of warm-up drills for the afternoon matches. You doubt they have any clue what you’re talking about, which is exactly how you want it.

There’s a quiet pause, and then Hiori breaks it with a gentle but firm nudge. “Well, if yer looking to get on the regulars consistently, training more could be worth a shot.”

You force a smile that probably looks more akin to a grimace. This is exactly why you don’t like smart people. They poke and prod until your story frays at the edges. He definitely asked that on purpose! With a heavy sigh, you end up walking with them toward the pitch, despite every nerve in you screaming to veer off.

You can’t help but wonder if this is a test.