#i just liked too much of the prompts for him

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

The JJK men want YOU to wear their jersey

Tags: JJK men x fem!Reader, college au, sports au, mostly fluff and/or crack, suggestive only on Toji’s (nasty bitch), itafushi makes an appearance

An: This has been heavy on my brain recently 🙂‍↕️ Also, I don’t know if this concept is only in like my area, but basically, the concept is that on game days, a common thing for highschool/college players to do is to wear their jersey to class, and their sweetheart wears their home/away jersey. it’s just a cute thing to show support. Another thing, I know Kamo is not Choso’s last name, and I know Sukuna is not Sukuna’s last name. Sukuna might not even be Sukuna’s name at all. idk and idc. this is a no curse au anyways so who cares! let me know if i should do more sports au :)

Incl - Satoru, Suguru, Nanami, Choso, Toji, Sukuna

SATORU

Girls will literally hunt Satoru down to get his jersey from him, and if you were the lucky girl who got to wear the jersey of the star quarterback… you either became instantly popular, or every girl in the university wanted to kill you.

“I’m sorry, ladies. I already have someone in mind.” Satoru flashed a grin towards the crowd of girls surrounding his seat. Disappointed sighs and whines emitted from the group as they slowly dissipated from his desk.

Satoru couldn’t care less. They could be mad at him if they wanted to. They were no where near as special as the girl he had his eyes set on.

Class had yet to start, and Satoru was growing tired of just staring at the back of your head. He finally got up, and he slumped down in the chair next to you.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked with a bright smile. He hadn’t interacted with you much, but he always had his eye on you. You were the one of the few girls who didn’t dumb down their intelligence for him to make themselves more appealing.

“It’s not.” You replied shortly. You weren’t rude, just incredibly matter-of-fact.

“Wanna make a bet with me?” Satoru asked as he tried to catch your eyes from your book. He was really pining for your attention, and you wouldn’t pass him a second glance.

“Not really.” You replied, not looking up from your book.

“I bet the professor will be twenty minutes late.” Satoru went on anyways, not taking your rejection to heart.

“Hmm. Doubtful. He’s normally prompt.” You say finally looking up at Satoru, which causes him to flash an easy smile. He’s happy to have your attention — now he wants to keep it.

“If he isn’t here within the next twenty minutes, you have to wear my jersey today and every game day for the rest of the season. If he makes it here before twenty minutes is up, I’ll buy you as many books as you can carry.” Satoru proposes as he taps on your book with a cheeky grin.

You think for a moment… all the books you can carry?? “Deal.” You say with a smile, offering your hand to him to shake on it — thinking you just easily won yourself a free shopping spree. Satoru takes your hand, and he gently shakes it before bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

He’s already won.

Satoru knows that you’ll be wearing his jersey today, and you’ll wear his colors for the rest of the season. He’ll make more bets… win you over slowly with false bets. Oh, he’ll buy you all those books you want too just because he can.

He’s already set Geto in motion to go run into your professor with large cups of coffees in his hand. Your professor ended up cancelling class after being 25 minutes late.

When the group of girls sees you with “GOJO” written on the back of your jersey, their faces contort in utter disdain, but Satoru looks at it with a shit-eating grin on his face. He won.

SUGURU

Suguru really didn’t get the thing about giving a girl his jersey on game days. Basketball season is pretty ruthless. While football teams only have 12 games in a season, basketball teams play over 30. That’s 30 days in one season that he’d have to find a girl that he gave enough of a shit about to give his jersey to? No thanks.

Of course, if he had a girlfriend it wouldn’t be too big of a deal, but the whole attitude around giving a girl your jersey was just something Suguru didn’t subscribe to.

Well, he didn’t think he subscribed to it until he saw one of his teammates offering you their jersey.

Maybe on a more psychological level, this was territory marking, and Suguru would be damned if he sat back and let another man mark you as their territory.

Even though he’s not proud of it, Suguru immediately marched straight up to you and his teammate with his away jersey thrown over his shoulder. He placed his hand firmly on the small of your back, and he gave his teammate a piercing look with his violet eyes. His lips curled into an easy smirk.

“Sorry man, she’s already agreed to wear my jersey today, isn’t that right angel?” He asked in such a condescending tone, and his fingertips dig into your skin with just enough pressure to make your face flush.

Luckily for Suguru, you were into it — and not his teammate. “Yeah, sorry. I almost forgot.” You agree, giving his teammate an empathetic smile.

So no, Suguru doesn’t get the idea of giving his jersey to a girl on game days, but he does get the idea of giving you his jersey. He loves how he towers behind you in the halls, seeing the name “GETO” written on your back with his number. He loves remembering the way you easily went along with his plan. You just fit him.

NANAMI

Nanami doesn’t need antics to get you to wear his baseball jersey.

Plenty of girls pine for Kento. Who wouldn’t? He was the leading star of the baseball team… who’s ass just so happened to look so good in those white tight-fitting pants.

Your college certainly played into it, giving Nanami the big screen when he takes off his helmet and shakes out his messy blonde hair that a bit damp from sweat. His cheeks are smeared with his eye black smeared on his cheeks (the charcoal black lines that athletes sometimes have).

They knew what they were doing when the yearbook crew took professional level pictures of Nanami looking absolutely jaw-dropping while delivering the nastiest pitch.

He was like eye candy that enticed a bunch of girls to buy tickets to the baseball games, and dammit, it worked.

Despite his celebrity status at the school, Kento didn’t act above anyone else. He didn’t flaunt money or act posh and sophisticated like a lot of the wannabes did at your university.

He was down to earth, smart, caring, and humorous to the right group of people (the dry humor enjoyers). Kento was the type of man to be able to reject someone without them even feeling rejected, which he did a lot when girls would ask for his jersey.

You often came to baseball games to watch (to watch nanami lets bffr), but you weren’t bold enough to ask Kento for his jersey on game days. You had witness girls before you, pilgriming the way to Nanami before they turn back empty handed. You couldn’t risk the heartache.

It wasn’t until one day after class you and Kento were the only two still packing up after a lecture, he casually strolled to your desk. “Will you be at the game tonight?” He asked with a genuine air of curiosity to him. This wasn’t awkward forced conversation because you two were the only two people in a room together.

You hadn’t even known that Nanami noticed you, much less noticed your attendance at games. You could feel your heart start to thud obscenely loud in your chest as you came to terms that you’re not invisible in Kento’s life.

“Yeah, I think I’ll show up…” You try your hardest to sound casual, but you just sound terribly nervous.

“I’ll look forward to seeing you.” He said politely before he reached into his bag and pulled out his spare jersey. “Hopefully wearing this..?”

Your eyes widen as you realize he was offering his jersey to you. “That- are you sure? Me?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He gives an honest laugh. His multimillion dollar smile makes you swoon, and he hands his jersey out again. “You should put it on now. That’s the tradition, right?”

You slowly slip the jersey on over your long-sleeved white top, and it definitely hangs loosely on you, but with a few tucks and adjustments, it finally sits on your body appropriately.

“It looks good on you. I’ll see you tonight.” Kento smiles before leaving the classroom.

You had never gotten more shocked stares than when girls saw you with “NANAMI” printed across your back.

CHOSO

“Hey Yuji, why does Megumi wear your jersey on game days?” Choso asked his teammate as he sat down on the bench in the locker room.

He had seen quite a few people - guys and girls who weren’t on the basketball team wearing the jerseys of his teammates, but he didn’t understand it. He figured he’d ask the one teammate who he considered to be more of a brother to explain.

“Because I make him.” Yuji laughed as he dried his pink hair off from the shower. It was a pretty brutal practice, even Choso’s raven hair was down, messy from sweat.

Choso furrowed his eyebrows. “Why would you do that-? I thought you liked him.”

Yuji laughed even harder as Choso clearly didn’t understand the dynamic he had with Megumi. He also clearly didn’t understand the concept behind giving someone his jersey.

“I do like him, so I like seeing him wearing my jersey on game days. I think he looks good in it too, even if he pretends to hate it. I know he likes showing his support.” Yuji explained, but he went on, “People give their jerseys to someone they like. It’s like a courting gift, and it lets everyone know your intentions with that person.”

Choso nodded as he began to understand. He should give his jersey to someone he liked - to someone he wanted to court, and his intentions would be made known.

That’s how shy, timid Choso ended up at your dorm door late one evening. After much encouragement and convincing from Yuji, he finally gave your door a soft knock, and Yuji ran around the corner to hide.

When you opened the door, looking at Choso with those big pretty eyes, he completely clammed up and forgot the mental script he had prepared about how he really liked you, and it’d mean a lot to him if you wore his jersey.

Instead, “I want my intentions known.” He nearly shouted as he gestured his jersey to you.

Yuji facepalmed around the corner.

You blinked a few times, looking down at the jersey then back up to him. He was lucky that you’re very good at filling in the blanks. “You want me to wear your jersey, Cho?” You asked with a small laugh before taking the jersey from his hands.

His cheeks were flushed, and he gave you an awkward smile before nodding his head vigorously. “And uh.. I want to court you.” He finally added all in one breath.

To Choso’s delight, you agreed, and now, he finally understands the real reasoning behind giving his jersey to someone he likes because seeing “KAMO” on your back makes him feel all dizzy with love and adoration.

TOJI

It started off as a small prank amongst girls. A prank that really pissed Toji off. A group of girls decided it would be cute to steal Toji’s spare hockey jersey and wear it without his knowledge.

When Toji saw one of the girls wearing his stolen jersey with his appalling last name printed on the back, he was livid.

Needless to say, he got his jersey back, and the girl couldn’t even look him in the eye after that whole experience.

He hated his jersey. He hated how his last name was on the back, and he hated how anyone else would want to wear it.

He couldn’t just get rid of his spare jersey. Then, he’d owe the school even more than what he already owes them. He couldn’t trust to keep it in his dorm because he didn’t put it past those bitches to try to sneak into his dorm to get their filthy hands on it. That was when he had a genius idea.

“Wear my jersey.” His gruff voice demanded as he dropped the fabric on the table in front of you, his too responsible friend.

“No, it probably stinks.” You pushed the jersey aside, trying to focus on the homework in front of you.

“Nah. It smells like the last bitch who stole it.” He remarked as he plopped down in a chair in front of your desk.

“Even worse.” You respond back unamused, still not giving Toji the time of day.

“Do you remember who hunted down the fuck who stole your headphones?”

You sighed, finally looking up at Toji to show that you were paying attention. “Why do you think me wearing your jersey will deter them?”

“Maybe they’ll think you’re my girl and piss off for a while. I don’t know, but if I see another preppy bitch wearing it without my knowledge, I’m going to burn it.” Toji’s voice sounded stressed as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“And you don’t mind them thinking that?” You inquire, raising your eyebrow.

“Doll, you know I’ve spent the last three years trying to get you to hop on my-“

“Eughhh, give it.” You interrupt Toji before he can go into any further detail, snatching his jersey up and putting it on over your clothes. “There. Happy?”

Toji didn’t expect to have such a reaction to seeing you in his jersey. He knew he was serious about liking you, no matter how much you liked to believe that he didn’t actually like you, but seeing you in his jersey — the way it swallowed you whole. He figured he’d still hate seeing his last name on you, but there was something satiating those deep primal urges when he caught a glimpse of “ZENIN” across your back.

SUKUNA

Sukuna is much comparable to a dragon. He sees something pretty and shiny (you): he wants it all for himself. He wants to hoard treasure (you) to keep, and he definitely does not like the idea of anyone else looking or touching his treasure.

So, how does he keep wandering eyes off his treasure? He cloaks her in his favor, making her brandish his last name on her back along with his number. Yes, Sukuna demanded for you to wear his football jersey.

There was just enough satisfaction of seeing you walk around campus with “SUKUNA” written on your back that kept him from trying to hoard you in his room.

Oh, he’s also like a dragon in the sense that he’s absolutely devastating out on the field.

[quarterlifekitty]

Weaknesses

Note: this is just a silly headcanon! Please don’t take it too seriously!

Gaz: goth/spiritual bitches. I said it. The amount of secondhand knowledge he has about tarot reading is getting weird. And don’t get him started on dark makeup and piercings.

Soap: cozy bitches. I think he’s gotten so much pornrot in his brain that his interests have gone from sexy outfits and circled back to full, comfortable coverage. Man loves you in the big t shirt, hoodie, sweats, blankets. One of his like top 5 favorite kinds of sex is the early morning quickie, so he’s like pavlov’d himself into getting hard for sleep clothes.

Simon: Girls that leave trails. He likes when you leave a lot of evidence of your presence in his life. Text messages, notes, jewelry and clothes you forget in his car and in his flat. He likes that it’s like there’s a constant tether, like the line separating your lives keeps getting blurry with all the crossover.

Price: Girls that cook. Like you don’t have to even be remotely good at it, if you made it for him, he’s not leaving a speck behind. You could feed this man a plain, boiled chicken breast and he’d still be so so happy. Something something joke about British cuisine.

König: clingy girls. He’s got that anxiety, he won’t always initiate contact, so he melts around anyone who touches him willingly and without prompting (bar is in the ground for him ok). He will never ever complain about you clinging to his arm, playing with his hands, sitting in his lap. That goes for emotionally clingy bitches too. You know he has to physically hold back from quadruple texting you (failed on holding back the first 2 times) so if you’re messaging him a lot?? Marriage.

[finelinevogue]

you need to calm down

summary - a collection of moments before you and harry go to the eras tour

[ sat in my drafts for FAR too long ]

word count - ~1.5k

pairing - husband!harry x reader

🪩✨🪩✨🪩✨🪩✨🪩✨🪩✨🪩✨🪩✨🪩

It started by fighting for your life to get tickets.

Only to lose the great war.

You’d been in bed all day since you had attempted to get Era’s Tour tickets this morning. You were trying to get tickets for you and your friend - now ex-friend - only to find out she’d already agreed to go with someone else when you couldn’t get yours, leaving you both ticketless and friendless.

You were scrolling through your phone to see how many fans, that you followed on social media, managed to get tickets.

That was when your boyfriend came home.

“Y/N/N? I’m home!”

Harry always called out the same phrase whenever he stepped through the front door. Sometimes, he might have just been washing your car and he’ll announce himself again.

It was very comforting to have the little routine though.

“I’m up here!” You shouted back.

“Okay, one minute!”

You tried to hype yourself into behaving like a normal person, who wasn’t entirely crushed by not getting tickets to your favourite artist.

You sat up in bed and tried to make yourself look a little less distraught.

Harry walked into your shared bedroom a couple minutes later with a gift bag.

“Is that for me?”

“Wh… Not even a hello?” He pretended to be offended, whilst he rounded your side of the bed to sit next to you.

“I’m sorry. Shitty morning,” You smiled papologetically, “Hi.”

He graciously accepted your kiss that you offered as an apology.

Harry’s hand cupped your cheek afterwards, eyebrows furrowed as he searched your eyes for something.

“What was shitty?”

“I didn’t get Taylor tickets.” You frowned, but pretended to pass it off as nothing even though Harry knew you well enough to known it wasn’t.

“Hmm. I’m sorry, baby. That must’ve been horrible.” He kissed your cheek after letting it go.

“It was.” You flopped back on the bed.

“Wanna see what I got?”

“Sure.”

Harry reached into the bag and pulled out a t-shirt. It was a plain white T but you could see it was going to have a print on the front of it.

Harry unfolded it and smiled as he did, watching your reaction rather than the looking at his gift.

You were confused when you saw the print on the t-shirt, though.

In my swiftie boyfriend era.

And it was in the style of the t-shirt that Taylor wears for the Red portion of the Eras Tour.

You laughed, “Nice.”

“You like it?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. ‘Cause it’s what i’m going to wear when we go to the Eras Tour.” He smirked then, knowing that would prompt a reaction.

“What?!” You sat up quick.

“What?” Harry pretended to play dumb.

“Harry…” Your lips wobbled and eyes teared up as you processed his sentence.

“Are you upset you’ll have to go with me?” He smiled sympathetically at your tearful face.

“You actually got us tickets?”

“Yeah.”

You lunged for Harry then, tackling him down on the bed and pressing a kiss every 2 centimetres across his face.

You were both laughing, whilst you also crying happy tears, and Harry let you assault him with kisses as much as your heart was content. He did deserve them after all.

•-•

A week before the concert you were panicking.

“I don’t have a suitable outfit!”

You were running between your closet and your bedroom to show Harry possible options.

Currently you were in a sage green bralette and matching panties, in between changing outfits.

You came to stand at the foot of the bed, whilst Harry lay on your bed against the headboard and scrolling through his phone every few minutes for outfit inspiration.

“I like that outfit.” Harry said, smirking.

You picked up a rogue t-shirt that was on the bed, balled it up and threw it at him. “You’re disgusting.”

“What?! I’m just saying you look really good!” He defended himself.

“Okay.” You crossed your arms.

Harry put his phone to the side, stretching his arms behind his head and leaving them to rest there. In doing so, the muscles on his bare chest flexed and made you weak at the sight.

In only his boxers, Harry knew exactly what he was doing but so did you in your lingerie.

“So I should just go to the Eras like this?” You asked, unfolding your arms, bending slightly to press your hands onto the bed in front of you.

“Sure.” Harry said, less confident now.

“You’re okay with me parading around with little to nothing on,” You leant forward to allow yourself to crawl onto the bed, slowly moving forwards towards your awaiting boyfriend, “Showing off to everyone what’s yours.”

Harry tried his best not to move, but he didn’t have that much restraint.

Next thing you knew he had tackled you down onto the bed and rolled on top of you.

You breathed heavily as you awaited what he’d do next.

“Show off to anyone you like, babe, because at the end of the day I’m the only who actually gets to call you mine.”

And he started by kissing you, which made you forget all about your outfit dilemma for… well the rest of the day.

•-•

It was Eras day and you were so not ready.

You and Harry had taken the entire day off because you wanted a full swiftie experience and Harry would do anything to keep you happy.

You started getting ready in the afternoon, seeing as you didn’t need to be at the venue until 3PM and you lived only half an hour away.

Harry was currently ironing his trousers and tshirt, whilst you focused on your makeup.

“Babe?” You called.

“Yeah?”

“Remind me to bring that extra bag of bracelets.”

“It’s by the front door already, love.”

“M’kay!”

You bopped along to your Taylor playlist whilst applying some gems to your eyes to bejewel yourself. You had one opportunity to make this the greatest swiftie experience of you life and you were taking it.

You’d decided to go for a general western theme for your outfit, seeing as you loved all the eras too much to choose one.

The bohemian inspired dress you were wearing was white and you had your beaten brown cowboy boots to go with it. So your accessories had to make up for your plain’ish outfit.

The gems you were applying were silver to match your sliver jewellery.

Harry then appeared behind you in the mirror.

He stood there and smiled at you for a few moments.

“What?” You blushed.

“You look so pretty.” He said, admiring you through the mirror.

“You think?”

“I know.”

He came up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist and kissing your neck.

You closed your eyes as you enjoyed this moment.

Just you and Harry enjoying each others presence and being so close to one another was a feeling second to none.

As you closed your eyes you couldn’t imagine being with anyone else in this moment but him.

“I love you.” He whispered against your neck, causing you to goosebump everywhere.

“I love you too.”

You turned to look at him, before leaning in to kiss him like he deserved.

He welcomed the kiss, cupping the back of your neck to keep you there, kissing him, for a few extra seconds than you’d intended.

When he pulled back he checked to make sure he’d not ruined your makeup.

“Put some gems on me?” He asked.

You smiled, “Okay.”

Harry moved to sit on the toilet lid, whilst you got your self-adhesive gem stickers ready.

You stood in between his legs, Harry gripping the back of your thighs to keep you there as if you’d just slip away otherwise.

“What colour?”

“Don’t know. Whatever you think is best.” He leaned forwards to kiss the bare skin between your bra and your sports leggings.

“Behave.” You warned, pushing his head away.

“I can’t when it comes to you.” He smirked up at you.

You blushed, can’t believing that he still made you blush even after all this time, before grabbing the gems and getting to work.

You applied some silver ones, the same as yours, to the corner of his outer eyes. “Just two?”

“Yeah, thank you baby.”

“Now you look so pretty.” You kissed the top of his head like he was your baby.

“Thank you.” It was his turn to blush.

“Now give me ten more minutes and I’ll be ready.”

“Okay.” He stood up, leaning down to give you a parting kiss.

•-•

Just before you left the house, you made sure Harry had his bracelets on.

“No, I want you to wear this one.”

You took ahold of his hand and slid the bracelet on.

“Out of style.” Harry read the bracelet with a small laugh.

“You need all of the Style ones, okay? Only trade with people who have got 1989 bracelets.”

“I know, I know!”

You had so many on your arms and they were slightly cutting off your blood circulation, but it was so worth it.

Harry had a lot less on, but you also knew people would be desperately throwing their bracelets at him without wanting anything in returning just to be able to say they gave Harry Styles a friendship bracelet.

“Okay, ready to go?”

“I am if you are, m’love.”

“Then let me give you one last thing!”

You reached into your bag and pulled out another bracelet, this one you had spent precious time making.

“What’s this?” Harry asked as he took it from you.

Blue and white beads made the colours of the bracelet, whilst there were also some tiny moon charms and stars too because Harry always wished upon them.

Because he wished so hard, one of them had actually come true.

“Wait… Love, this says…”

“Mhm.” You watched as his eyes filled with tears and his hand holding the bracelet shook.

“Dad to be.” He read out the words wrapped around the bracelet so softly, like he couldn’t understand it yet:

You reached your hand around the back of his head, scratching the scruff on the back of his neck how he liked whenever he was emotional.

“You okay?” You asked with a smile, tearing up yourself over his soft reaction.

“I’m gonna be a dad.”

“Yeah, baby. You are.”

“We’re gonna be parents…” He looked at you and noticed you were as tearful as him.

He immediately put on the bracelet, before putting that hand on your stomach to feel whether he could notice a difference. Not so much yet, but just knowing his child was happily growing there made him want to cry all over.

“I know. It’s crazy.”

“I need to google how to change a nappy.” He made a joke, licking his lips as tears fell around his mouth.

“We’ve got time.”

And you kissed him before he could worry any more and make you miss the Eras…

[alchemistc]

Buck's halfway through his third cup of startlingly bad coffee when Josh pushes the door to the breakroom open, looking mildly concerned in the half second before someone else looms over his shoulder.

He's too numb to do much more than take another sip of coffee as he watches Josh usher Tommy in.

The door clicks shut behind him. Buck wonders for a moment if Tommy's ever actually been to the new dispatch headquarters before. If he ever went to the old one, charming grin on his face while he waited for Abby to finish up so he could take her out, drive her home while her car was in the shop - but no, Tommy would have worked on it himself, maybe.

Had Josh recognized him, that first time, with half of his soot on Buck's face, and just never said anything?

The silence is tense. They're in a fishbowl, no room to lash out even if either of them wanted to because more than half the people working in this place can see them if they just tip their head to the side.

"How can I help?"

It's - his voice is strained, scared, worried. Buck doesn't have a single guess as to how he knows. Maybe Bobby. It's the only person he can think of who would have -.

Buck snorts. "I rebounded with a serial killer who just kidnapped my sister and my baby niece or nephew. I don't - I'm not sure what you want."

He glances up just in time to see the end of Tommy's grimace. Good. He's not sure how much more disastrous of a choice he could have made to try to get Tommy out of his system, but at least it hurts him to know. At least...

"Do you want me to go?"

Buck can't remember anyone asking, before. Usually they just... leave. Get up, walk out, disappear. Tommy bubbled Buck five times in three months. Buck went through seven bags of flour before he drove Eddie to the airport.

His voice shakes on his "No," and Tommy is there, all of the sudden, his hand hovering just over Buck's shoulder, like he realized halfway there it might not be welcome. "Do you still think I need to keep looking for someone better than you?"

It'd been seeing Tommy out with a guy that'd prompted him to stop fucking baking and make an effort to just...get over it But with Eddie away, and the rest of the 118 so wrapped up in their lives, there weren't a whole lot of outlets for that. And it's been easy to willfully misinterpret Tommy's breakup speech. Or - interpret it in the most hurtful way possible.

"Is this what you want to do right now?" Tommy asks, even and measured. "Will this help?"

"I want my sister back!"

Tommy takes a step back. His hands shift to his pockets, and Buck just wants -

"Why are you here?"

He tips his head up. Holds Tommy's gaze. Tommy flounders in a way Buck's never seen before.

He looks - tired. Good. White Henley under a flannel Buck had always told him brought out his eyes. The jeans Buck had stolen once or twice because they made his ass look good. His hair's grown in at the sides, and the sprinkling of greys are more obvious than the last time he'd seen it this length.

"I just... didn't want you to be alone."

Tears threaten at the corners of his eyes. He wants to laugh, but he's terrified if he starts he won't be able to hold in the fear. "When did that change?"

Tommy gnaws on his cheek. "You have so many people, Buck. You have -."

"I don't want emotional repression Tommy here, so if you're just here to keep me distracted until someone else can be here you should just... go."

Something flashes in his gaze. Anger, maybe. Terror.

"Please let me stay."

It hurts, to hear it. It hurts to hear the trepidation in his voice as he says it. Buck just wants to pull him in, tuck his face into the curve of his neck, soak in the warmth of his arms.

Buck spends too long staring at his knees. Long enough for Tommy to shift, to sigh, to nod his head decisively out of the corner of Buck's eye.

The word is stuck in his throat. Has been for months, since Tommy looked at him with teary eyes and walked away.

"I won't be able to let you go again."

He's already half turned away. Buck can only see half his expression as his eyes dip closed. He swallows. Nods, again.

Buck can't watch him push back through that door, so he stares at the toes of his boots until his vision starts to blur.

A second pair of toes swim into his eyeline. A hand shifts through his curls, snagging on knots, digging towards his scalp, and he can't quite bite back the sob. The arms that reach for him are warm, big and familiar, and Buck gives himself over to the panic and the fear that have been clawing at his chest for hours now. Tommy says something - whispers it into the air above Buck's head over and over, but Buck can't - he just -

He presses his face into Tommy's stomach, digs his fingers into the back of his shirt, sucks in horrible, gasping breaths. It's not enough. Nothing will be until he's got Maddie in his arms.

But it's more than he had an hour ago.

"Stay," he manages, and Tommy's fingers curl around Buck's neck and hold.

[moonstruckme]

MAE I'm sorry, I thought of another (no pressure at all of course). maybe hot cocoa - send a character + a prompt with Spencer Reid and reunion? Maybe Spencer wasn't supposed to be home in time for the holidays and surprises his love??? AH so cute ok sorry I'll retreat back into my cave now thanks love you byeeee

Never ever be sorry lovely!! Thanks for your request <3

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 465 words

You set your keys on the counter when you come in, your cheeks tingling pleasantly from the change of the cold wind to your warm home. You’re carrying a small bag of presents which you set down next to your keys before taking off your shoes. It takes you a few seconds to realize something isn’t the way you left it a few hours ago. 

The Christmas tree is lit, its warm glow emanating from the living room and casting hazy shadows on the walls. 

You don’t proceed with as much caution as a woman who’s expected to be alone in her home likely should. You know Spencer and most anyone from his team would crow at you for leaving your mace with your keys by the door; but really, what creature of malintent plugs in the Christmas tree? You find Spencer sleeping on the couch, shoes nowhere to be seen but still in his work clothes. 

The smile that takes you is ginormous. He looks especially lovely. The gentle glow of the lights makes the curves of his face look soft and sweet, cherubic almost, but you’d be just as happy to see him if he were rough and grimy and frowning in his sleep. 

“Spence,” you murmur, crouching beside him. You touch his shoulder gently. “Spencer.” 

His eyes move under his eyelids before they open, settling blearily on you. “Hi.” His voice is rough but tilts up with pleasure. He blinks his way into the world. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to doze off.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” you say, beaming. “What’re you doing here? What about the case?” 

“We, uh…” Spencer sits up, rubbing his face. “We solved it. They haven’t caught the guy yet, but I’m never as helpful with that part as Morgan or JJ anyway. I wanted to be with you.” 

Your cheeks are starting to hurt. You hug him fiercely. It’s awkward and half sideways, but full of more love than you can express. Spencer seems to get it. 

“I know how much Christmas means to you,” he says, folding an arm around your back. “I didn’t want to miss it.” 

Whatever he says, you know how much finishing out a case means to him, too. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you got here,” you offer. “I’d have come home.” 

“That’s okay, I didn’t want you to cut your celebration short.” Spencer’s pinkie sweeps in slow arcs between your shoulder blades. “We’re together now, right?” 

You let him go to take his face in your hands, thumb denting softly into his cheek to make sure he’s really there. “Yeah,” you say, kissing him. “Thanks for coming home, Spence.” 

“Thanks for having me,” he says, a bit awkwardly. His smile when you laugh is the brightest thing in the room. 

[frownyalfred]

Hi, you said "no I don't know him"/"he's my dad" and dealt me immediate psychic damage please say more words that hopefully make this better

(spoiler alert: nothing can erase the inherent tragedy of this)

the ask/prompt was about Dick and Bruce not acknowledging each other in the League, right? so kind of playing with this identity porn idea of Batman and Nightwing both being separate vigilantes working with the League with no outward, immediately obvious, or self-professed connection between them other than both being from Gotham (which might not even be something they reveal, for OpSec reasons).

Why would they choose to do this? Maybe Bruce wants to eliminate any connections between them to make it even harder to guess their secret identities. Having two pieces of the puzzle always makes it easier to solve than if you only have one.

Maybe Dick wants to be his own vigilante, separate from Batman's influence, and stand on his own with the League. Maybe he wants to put space between him and Robin, and asks Bruce not to fully acknowledge him outside of Gotham.

Maybe it's a mix of both? Or maybe it just never truly comes up, and both of them are too smart and well-trained as a default to give anything away in front of the League. Maybe the League knows that they know each other, that they've worked together before, but nothing more than that.

And what even ties Nightwing to Batman, really? Funding, the suit, the relationship to Robin, but none of those are immediately apparent. Gotham is a common denominator, but there are multiple vigilantes in most major US cities and Nightwing largely operates in Bludhaven. Training/fighting style? Also hard to identify without being in the know. Essentially, if they don't say anything to the League, how much can the average person even infer, much less notice?

So those two lines stuck out to me. In response to a well-meaning or confused League member asking if Dick knows Batman, he really only has two possible responses: "No, I don't know him" or the truth.

That there is a connection between them, and it's actually damn near sacred. He was, is, Batman's partner. He knows Bruce like almost no one else does. They're spoken about in the same breath. Or they were, once upon a time. They have mirrored beginnings, twin motivations. They fallback on each other, even when they're fighting bitterly. Dick is still who Alfred calls, when Bruce is in a self-destructive rut. And vice versa.

But what would prompt Dick to break that code of silence? I guess it depends on why it exists. And so for that second response -- "That's my dad" -- I was thinking of a situation where it was because of Dick's need to be separate from Batman. And Bruce obliges the secrecy, because it's logical and also Dick asked. But one day Bruce is injured on a mission, or hurting somehow, and the League is panicked trying to figure out what to do and Dick is right there. Batman's partner is a foot away and nobody knows. And Dick suddenly has to make a decision that is, in that instant, more easy than anything he's ever done.

"That's my dad."

[filiazpink]

🩷"OH PRIMUS,,,"🩷

orion pax x femme + superior! reader x d-16 warnings: suggestive language (like- once but still), darkwing being darkwing, i’m a sucker for cheesy stuff, really minor transformers one spoilers (?)

summary: orion finds himself completely enamored with one of his superiors and d-16 doesn’t really mind it, until one day, you show up at the mines.

a/n: my very first tumblr fic!! i might post this on my AO3 account as well! hope this reached your expectations considering more than 200 people voted for this prompt on my poll  =͟͟͞͞(꒪ᗜ꒪‧̣̥̇) ill get to some of the other prompts shortly after, i just wanted to know which one would be best to start with (and to properly introduce my writing to tumblr teehee) !! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated !! ENJOY!! 💞💞💞

word count: 1139

proofread: minimal (lemme know if there's any errors!!)

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orion simply couldn't stop thinking about you.

your shiny and colorful armor, your beautiful optics, your height and strength. that voice. the power and authority you had over him. that power rivaled sentinel prime’s in his eyes. everything.

she was simply breathtaking. 

…

“earth to orionnnn, come on, rust bucket!!” pink servos waving at him frantically snapped the red and blue mech out of his trance. focusing his glance, orion watched as elita-1 gave him one of the scariest faces he’s seen yet, followed by d-16 behind her with his arms crossed, looking at his friend with a disappointed expression.

“what’s wrong with you?! you broke protocol, AGAIN!” elita pulled the miner to his feet, groaning in annoyance. orion’s dumb dopey smile quickly turned into a shocked frown and he was about to ask what he did now, but thankfully, his friend answered for him.

“orion, buddy, i know,,, i know you just wanted to save jazz from that explosion but you almost got killed doing that, man.” d-16 looked to the side, avoiding his friend’s gaze.

“you can’t keep doing this, pax. ONE more stunt like this and I’LL be the one to get-”

“what happened here??” elita snapped her head towards the newcomer’s voice, expecting maybe another miner, but her angry scowl quickly faded away once she saw who it was.

it was elita’s superior. 

it was you. 

oh primus, beautiful, amazing, spectacular you. orion felt a rush of warmth cover his face as you walked in along with,,,

oh- with darkwing. of course he was there with you.

STILL- you just showed up with no prompting, and two days in advance no less?? clearly, this was important.

orion fixed his posture and tried to dust off any grime he had on him. d-16 chuckled quietly at his best friend’s excitement, before turning his attention to you.

“(y-y/n)! i thought you were coming to check on our sector in t-two days! i’m so sorry you have to see my team like this i swear it was an accident-” the poor pink bot stammered, much to darkwing’s amusement and to your confusion.

“what accident? the cave collapsing? that’s normal, elita-1. don’t worry about it. you’re telling me it was a complete accident so i will take your word for it.” hearing those words coming from you made elita feel like she was just told that sentinel finally found the matrix of leadership.

“oh, thank you, thank you,,,” orion and d-16 watched as elita continuously thanked her superior, chuckling. 

“well, that means we don’t get our butts kicked too, thank primus miss (y/n) was here.” the red and blue miner said, walking away from the scene with his pal.

“yea and now we can just finish this shift and relax-”

“d-16?” the two stopped in their tracks, slowly turning around in an almost comical way to face the much taller femme bot. 

orion’s servos trembled. he felt embarrassed, he was over here making a fool of himself with how obvious his crush on you was. literally everyone who steps foot in the mines knew about it, aside from, clearly, you. heck, even darkwing seemed to know, considering that despite his optics not being visible, he clearly was glaring at the cog-less bot.

or maybe it was just his usual routine of hating them.

d-16, however, gulped and let out the tiniest of “yes?”. ohhh boy, what now?? did she assume that the cave collapsing was his doing?? did darkwing tell her that-

“you’re at the top of your ranks here, correct?” his train of thought was interrupted by your soft voice, watching as you knelt down to his height, placing a hand on his shoulder, which shocked him a bit. orion stared at the polished hand on his best friend’s rusted shoulder with envy, his optics narrowing just a smidge.

“i already spoke to elita about this, but i also want you to hear it. i’ve heard some great things about you, and how you excel amongst your ranks. so i just wanted you to hear this.” d-16 felt frozen.

‘what is this,,, feeling? my face is burning,,’ oh indeed it was. his face flushed in a deep blue as he anxiously waited for your next words. just your soothing voice got him like this and he simply couldn’t understand why.

“,,, i need you.”

,,,

WHAT???

the first to react was darkwing, who let out a very outraged grunt of confusion, as if you just cheated on him with a MINER of all people in his face, followed by elita, the other miners and orion gasping, everyone turning their heads towards the two.

“,,,w-what?” the gray miner’s voice box barely even processed his astonished question. he felt as if his circuits were frying up by how hot he felt. 

orion’s expression showed bewilderment and a hint of betrayal. this,,, wasn’t fair?? well- he knew it wasn’t d-16 who said that to you, but he still couldn’t help but feel jealous.

he wished it could have been him.

but then finally, you realized what you just said and removed your hand from the shorter bot’s shoulder, standing up straight and bumping into darkwing’s chest armor. “oh- p-please excuse me. i- uh, i chose my words wrong.” 

the onlookers decided to stop eavesdropping, realizing it was a simple mistake on your part. that made orion sigh in relief, which didn’t go unnoticed by d-16. but his attention was quickly brought back to you.

“my apologies, i- i would never say such things- not during work hours, i’m sorry- what i meant to say, i need you- as in i need you to help keep up the good work to motivate the other miners to do the same. it helps your ranks as it helps mine if we all put our parts to make a difference. s-so, yea.” you looked around, avoiding eye contact, a small blush remaining on your face. both miners nearly swooned at such a cute expression on your face.

“i just needed to do an early check up according to sentinel, that’s all. thought i’d try and give some pep talk and you can see i have to work on that,,” you giggled before clearing your throat and staring down at the mesmerized bots.

,,,

“goodbye.” and with that being said, you quickly marched back to the main exit with a very, VERY jealous darkwing in tow. 

orion turned his gaze to his best friend, who watched you depart with a dreamy look on his face. the red and blue bot sighed and gently shook his shoulder.

“d?,,,” oh he knew. 

he recognized that stare. the same stare he gave when he saw anything megatronus prime related, that same glimmer in his optics. it was that same spark that orion had when he first saw you.

oh primus.

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[parkersbliss]

the 141 and their obsessed girlfriend

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x female reader 

synopsis: you love your boyfriend, maybe a little too much that some of the things you say are... concerning to say the least.

warnings: kind of gory for simon, sexual innuendo, death threat, reader is just unhinged and in love with her man fr

a/n: if you get it, you get it. these all may or may nOT be things I've said to my boyfriend to which he said I was "batshit crazy but in a sexy way"

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

—

Ghost:

You sigh, laying your head down on Simon’s chest. His reaction is instinctive, an arm wrapping around you and pulling you closer. You snuggle further into him, his warmth radiating onto your skin. A reminder to you of where your home truly was. 

You can hear his heartbeat in his chest, pumping at a steady pace. You count each thump, rhythmic and soft. Faintly, you hear the sound of air moving in and out of his lungs and the slight bubbling of his stomach from the food you had eaten earlier. 

Simon’s hand strokes your lower back, drawing circles as his eyes focus on the rugby match. He’s unaware of his actions, something he’s too used to when he lies with you. He likes feeling the warmth, the subtle pulse, and shivers. It’s a reminder that you’re real. 

You’re too lost in his heartbeat to hear the narration of the game. There was something so comforting to listen to him, affirming what you knew was true. Your boyfriend was alive, his heart circulating the blood through his body. You push yourself further into his chest, wanting to be closer. You couldn’t get any closer, you knew that, but you needed to be. There was some part of you that kept urging for it. 

“Simon,” You call out. 

He looks down at you. “Hm?”

You meet his eyes. “I want to cut through your skin, open your ribcage, and feel your heart.” You said it casually, not faltering and maintaining eye contact with him. You needed to crawl into his chest and live there, be one with him. Closer. 

Simon doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even blink at your words. “I’d want nothing more than to have you cradle my heart in your hands.” 

You move to straddle him, resting your legs on either side of his hips and leaning your chin on his sternum so you can really look at him. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

He scoffs. “Quite the opposite.”

“Even if I want to live inside your chest?”

“If I could make that happen, I would.” He runs a hand through your hair, tugging gently at the knots. 

You smile at him. “I’d let you live in mine and use my lungs as your personal trampoline.” 

Simon chuckles a beautiful sound to you and lets his hand rest on your hips. “I would be honored.” 

You trace patterns on his chest, huffing. “I just want to live in you.” 

“Unfortunately, you’ll just have to settle for my dick in you.”

You purse your lips from on top of him. “I guess that’ll do.”

Gaz:

You set your phone on the bedside table, lying on your side to look at your boyfriend. He was shirtless, with nothing but his briefs on in bed. Your eyes trace up and down him, taking in all the curves of his muscles and the lines of his abs to the slight stubble of a beard and the downward slope of his nose. God, he was so pretty. 

As if on cue, he turns to look at you. “What?” He murmurs in that voice of his. Kind, but a hint of grit to it. He made it so easy for your thoughts to run wild. You wanted to have his kids. See his eyes in them, the curve of his nose. Actually, scratch that you wanted—“I wanna get you pregnant,” You blurt out. 

Kyle laughs, loud. He isn’t sure he quite heard you correctly. He hopes he did, but then again, you did have a knack for breaking silence with something worth talking about. “What?” 

“I wanna get you pregnant,” You repeat. 

He stills, staring at you and how your face is unwavering. He’s not quite sure what to make of that sentence. He stares at you, your lips pursed in thought and eyes sparkling with a bit of mischief. “That’s simply not possible.” 

“I know,” You said. “But I just want to be able to like fuck you for once.” 

“Oh my god.” 

You shake your head, suddenly aware of how unhinged you sound. But that’s just what Kyle did to you. You were downright obsessed with him. Everything about him made your thoughts melt into a pile of mush and goo. One look at him had you practically reeling. You couldn’t fathom how he was real and yours, nonetheless. “Sorry! You’re just so fucking pretty and it’s like I need to bend you ov—,” 

“Babe,” He cuts you off. “Okay! I get it.” 

“No, but like—,"

He raises his brows at you. “It’s not biologically possible.” He restates, emphasizing that he was not letting that happen and neither was the world. Thank god, he thinks. 

You flop down onto your back on the bed with a groan. “So unfair. We should be like seahorses.” 

Kyle hums, choosing to humor you. “Uh-huh, sorry babe.” 

“I’m just so obsessed with you. I have so many feelings I just… I don’t know what to do with it.” 

Kyle’s hand traces up and down your arm. “Well, we could start with not getting me pregnant.” He moves to situate himself on top of you, pressing his nose into your neck. “But maybe there’s a compromise here, hm?” He kisses the soft skin, and once again, your brain melts into nothing. He was so good to you. He made it easy for you to forget everything in the world but his name on your tongue. So you couldn’t get him pregnant. There was a better idea ahead. 

“Sounds good to me.” 

Soap: 

You sat at the table next to Johnny, coffee in hand. You both sit in silence, observing the people passing by on the street. You make note of a man frantically texting on his phone, a little girl chasing after a bird, a couple clinging on to each other. 

People watching. A favorite pastime for the two of you. 

You watch as a girl walks by, her gaze lingering on your boyfriend a second longer than you’d like. Her eyes rake up and down his figure, and she pulls out her phone, no doubt texting someone. 

You turn to Johnny, who’s oblivious to it. “I’m going to fucking kill her.”

His head snaps towards you. “What, love?” 

“That girl,” You gesture with your head. “I’m going to kill her.” 

“Why?” 

“She looked at you.” 

Your boyfriend nearly spits out his coffee. “So you’re gonna kill her?” 

You glare at him. “That’s merciful.” 

“Oh really?” He jests you. 

You nod your head, setting down your coffee and pulling out your phone. “If I really wanted to fuck with her, then I could find her home address and slightly misplace all the objects in her flat and watch her go insane.”

Johnny stares at you, concern etched into his face. His eyes sweep your face for any ounce of joke, but he knows you’renot. He always wanted a possessive girlfriend. “You’re crazy.” 

“Crazy about you,” You correct. “If I ever see anyone look at you like that again, I’m going to call an airstrike on them.” 

He grabs your hands. “Love, you never have to worry about anyone else.”

“I don’t worry. They should worry. If they wanna stare, then they can stare at the ceiling before I gouge their eyes out.” 

Johnny sighs. He loves you, truly. But to say you weren’t sometimes a little unhinged was an understatement. You always had a jealous streak about you, it’s what initially drew him in. That fire he saw in your eyes, dangerous but beckoning him closer. The idea of a possessive girlfriend really did turn him on. It was just moments like these that he wished he could carry around a giant sign that said “Please don’t look at me unless you wanna die.” 

“You’re something else, you know?” He asked, running his thumb over your knuckles. 

You melt a little at the gesture, and he can see your shoulders relax. “You’re mine.” 

He presses a quick kiss to your lips. “True, and you never have to do that. So please stop threatening random people on the street in public.” 

You smile at him. He was so sweet. “You’ll never find a bitch crazier than me, baby.” 

“I never want to,” Johnny insists. “Though, you can show me crazy in a different way…” 

You can see his eyes sparkling with something and you bite your lip, grabbing his hands. “Let’s go home.” 

Price:

You’re sat next to Price on the couch. He’s got a hand slung over your shoulder, keeping you close as you lean your head into the crook of his neck. He was warm, a giant teddy bear covered in rippling muscles. His beard scratches the top of your head, but it’s not uncomfortable. In fact, you love the feeling of it when you’re kissing. The soft pinch of his hair against your face. 

But honestly, you loved everything about him. There wasn’t one thing about him you could dislike. Well, maybe that he was gone so long sometimes. In reality, it just made you want him more though. It created special moments like this, where you knew time was futile. 

You sigh, playing with the hairs of his beard. You feel like them against your fingertips, pinching and prodding. 

You gaze up at your husband, his blue eyes focused on the screen and dark lashes contrasting with his pale skin. 

“Honey,” You murmur.

He hums, looking down at you. “Yes?” 

You cock your head at him. “I want to take your beard hair and make it into matching sweaters for us.” 

Price, unfazed by most things, is fazed by this. He could take a bullet, and wouldn’t flinch at a grenade or a gun pointed at his face. But that. 

That was a sentence he wasn’t sure how to unpack. 

“What?” He asked. 

You giggle a little. “You know, the clippings in the bathroom. What if I started collecting them to make a sweater?” 

Price nods, humoring you. “Darling, please don’t do that.” 

“Why not?” You pout, sticking out your bottom limit. 

“That would be itchy,” He insists. “My beard is already itchy enough. You don’t want to wear it too.” 

You don’t, he’s right. You just wanted to say something to see his face contort. He was so comfortable around you that it made it easy to catch him off guard. And really, a part of you was that obsessed with him. 

“Fair point, I suppose,” You concede. 

He’s surprised you surrender so easily. “You don’t already have a collection going, do you?” 

You laugh, patting his chest. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

He pauses. “No, I would not.” You snuggle closer to him, going back to playing with his beard. His arm drops to your waist, giving it a squeeze. “You’re insane, my dear.” 

You grin up at him, planting a kiss on his lips. “In more ways than one.” 

Price kisses you back, sneaking his hands under your shirt and higher. “Amen.” 

He was never religious, but that man did get on his knees for you.

-- END --

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🏷 taglist: @trxpslxt @looking1016 @the-kakawshi-bird

[prentisslvr]

congrats on 100 followers. i’ve been following since your first spencer fic, checkmate. i absolutely love your writing. could i ask for a spencer reid, with prompt 4 (he’s saying it) and then 8 (with reader saying it)

WHATS MINE IS YOURS

summary; you spill something on your shirt and you borrow spencer’s

genre: fluff, mutual pining, bestfriends to lovers.

prompt; “is that my shirt?” & “stop looking at me like that.”

authors note: i’m not sure if i like this, this was a little rushed but 🤷‍♀️

you had arrived at work in a haste, two cups of freshly made coffee in your hands, one for you, the other for spencer.

which was what you did every morning, but it’d just so happened that today, emily had her intern running around completing tasks, one of them being running right into you, causing you to spill piping hot coffee all over your white top.

you would’ve screamed had it not been for the fact the intern looked like she was going to burst into tears right then and there, so with a strained smile, and a pat on her shoulder you’d made your way back to your car looking around for something to wear.

the only thing being a spencers fresh laundry you’d picked up from the laundromat for him, he woke up pretty early in the morning, but he lived a walk away from the nearest laundromat.

and since you had a car, you grabbed them for him.

he appreciated this greatly, even if it had taken you weeks to convince him to allow you to do it, you lived like five minutes away from the laundromat, he live about fifteen minutes away in a car, probably thirty minutes to walk like he did.

you just liked making things easier, penelope had once said your love language was acts of service, whatever that meant.

you walked into the bullpen in one of his button up shirts, you sigh taking a seat at your desk, the shirt was white with stripes, it wasn’t your usual attire and it drew attention, from almost everyone.

especially the man who owned it, at first, he’d just thought you changed up your style for a moment, but when he really looked, he noticed what you were wearing.

his shirt.

and, god, he was having palpitations, you were in his shirt, and you looked really good.

it was no lie to the entire team, and well, pretty much the world, that whilst you and spencer were best friends, there was something more than that between the two of you.

“is that my shirt?”

your eyes shoot up from your paperwork and you guiltily nod. “i spilt coffee and im not exactly the most prepared person in the world, i had your laundry and—”

“don’t worry about it.” he smiled cutting your little rant off. “what’s mine is yours.”

you sigh thankfully. “thanks spence, you really are a lifesaver.”

as you continued work though, spencer would not stop sending you glances, if it were someone else, you may even have seen a hint of desire in his eyes.

but it was spencer, surely he wouldn’t.

“stop looking at me like that!” you exclaimed, it’d been ten minutes and spencer wouldn’t stop staring at you, granted you’d been looking too, but still.

spencer blinks. “like what?” his ears going red, he’d been caught, but he couldn’t help it, you just looked so good in his shirt, he’d never felt so attracted to you before now.

“nothing, nevermind.” you bite your lip looking down at your work with frown and spencer smiled, he’d tell you one day.

but for now the dr would settle for his stolen glances and making sure he kept a couple spare shirts in case you ever happen to ruin one of your own once again.

[hawkinsbnbg]

I've got you, sweetheart

prompt: guard | word count: 532 | rated: G | tags: omegaverse, stranger to lovers, scent mates, omega steve, alpha eddie | @steddiemicrofic | ao3

Ever since Steve could remember, he just knew he’d be an omega. Which was how most people adapted to their future designations. Sure, there were cases where the feelings were wrong, but it was far and few between.

In Steve's case, however, he was forced to ignore his instinct.

Hence, he was ill-prepared when he started presenting in the locker room, wearing just a pair of boxers.

Fortunately, despite his weakened state, he still managed to bolt before those alphas could catch him.

Distressed and in pain, Steve followed the faint pinewood scent blindly until he stopped in front of the old drama classroom. With a heavy heart, he opened the door.

Eddie Munson was standing eerily still across from him, smelling of pinewood and vetiver and his.

There were better ways to meet one's scent mate, and Steve definitely had the worst.

Not only was he greatly underdressed, but he was also on the cusp of a presenting heat—painful and not at all ready for his mate.

Eddie’s head tilted in a puppy-like manner, nostrils flaring—taking in the marmalade and honey scent, before dark eyes narrowed dangerously, protectively.

“You hurt, omega?”

As if on cue, Steve collapsed as the pain started becoming too much. When a pair of strong arms caught him, he relaxed immediately, feeling safe for the first time in his life.

It was foolish. This alpha could've easily been the same knotheads he’d just run away from. But—

“Rest,” Eddie rumbled. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

But somehow, Steve trusted him.

The next time Steve woke up, he found himself wearing an old t-shirt, surrounded with soft pillows, blankets, and random clothing—all carried the familiar musky pinewood he had grown quite attached to during his brief encounter with a certain alpha.

It was a nest—he realized dazedly—built for him by Eddie who had brought him back to what could be safely considered the alpha’s bedroom.

Before Steve could leave his nest to venture outside—scared as he might be, the door opened and Eddie was by his side within seconds.

With utmost care, Eddie helped him recline, fed him some water from a Garfield mug, and scented him until his inner omega settled.

After a quick shower and getting dressed more presentably, Steve finally got to know Wayne Munson over breakfast, and learned from the older alpha that Eddie had stood guard outside the bedroom all night.

“This boy even growled at me, ya know?” Wayne said proudly.

Eddie blushed, looking almost shy about it. And Steve smiled fondly at his precious alpha.

By the time Wayne retired to the couch with a newspaper, Eddie seemed nervous as he reached for Steve's hand on the table.

“Can I court you, sweetheart?” Eddie asked softly. “Let me give you everything I got.”

“Just want you, alpha,” Steve glanced up through his lashes, eyes starry and cheeks tinged pink.

He could see the life they were gonna build together. Not perfect, but theirs. Beautiful and loving.

Eddie brought their joined hands up and pressed tender lips to his knuckles.

“All yours, baby.”

“All mine,” he chirped, smiling sweetly into his coffee. Three spoons of milk and sugar. Just the way he loved.

[w1ld-wr1t3r]

could you write a cute lil drabble of reader who has anxiety (could be general or maybe something specific like being in a car) x lando norris and lando is a big comfort to the reader and then one day after a bad race the reader gets to be a comfort to him (i imagine their love language to be physical touch)!

Normally I don't like to write reader inserts, but I like this prompt so I'll give it a try just this once!

The greatest comfort in your life was Lando. He was one of the only ones who understood you, who understood what you went through. He never judged you when your anxiety got bad. He would just hold you close and whisper comforts in your ear, until you felt like yourself again.

Your anxiety often struck when you least expected it, snowballing from slight nerves to nearly immobilizing fear before you could stop it. You were more likely to have an attack when you were stressed, be it about work or your relationship or even just life in general. Lando was one of the only ones who had never made you feel bad about having anxiety, and he'd always done his best to help you through it, even when he'd been scared of doing something wrong. It was one of the many things you loved about him.

It wasn't often that you had to return the favor. He was so strong, taking steps to preserve his mental health and facing everything thrown at him with confidence. He wasn't immune to anxiety, but it struck him so infrequently that you hadn't had a chance yet to take care of him the way he'd always taken care of you. You would never wish for it to happen, never, but you did wish that you could show him how much you appreciated everything he did for you.

That time came unexpectedly after a wet race where things went completely to shit.

You'd nearly had to leave the garage halfway through the race, so anxious that you were almost vibrating out of your skin. Lando had had horrible luck today, ranging from a poorly-timed pit stop to caught in the crossfire of not one but two separate incidents on track. When a Williams collided with him on lap 42 and knocked him out of the race for good, you only breathed a sigh of relief because at least it was over now, and you didn't have to watch him try not to die out there any more.

You knew he would be upset, of course. Who wouldn't be after a race like that? You knew you had some of his favorite comfort meals on hand, and were ready to pull one of them out when you got home and start cooking. The activity would help calm your own nerves, and familiar food would hopefully lift his spirits, too.

But when you got back to your room, he was already there, and he was already crying.

You froze for a moment as you took in the scene before you. He wasn't just crying, you realized, he was sobbing. He was huddled on the sofa, curled into a ball and head in his shaking hands. Three different hoodies were strewn around him, like he'd been trying to find something comfortable and soothing to wear but nothing had done the trick. And he hadn't even changed out of his fireproofs. He must have come straight here as soon as he was free, too broken and upset to face anyone.

"Lando?" you asked cautiously, walking closer to him. He didn't stop crying, but didn't move away as you carefully sat next to him. "Are you -"

You cut yourself off before you finished the question. Of course he wasn't okay. Why ask the question when the answer was already obvious?

"Is there anything I can do to help?" you asked instead. You itched to pull him into your arms and hold him, hug him tight until the tension finally left him and he felt safe again. You wanted to ask what had made him cry, but you knew he probably wouldn't be able to tell you now, not while he was sobbing his eyes out and breathing little hiccupping breaths. You had a theory, though, that it was because he felt like he'd let everyone down today and was a failure. You wanted to tell him that that wasn't true, that he'd done amazing today, even with all of the odds stacked against him. He'd been so strong all day, and it was okay if he needed to cry now. You just wanted to help him through it.

Without looking up at you or saying anything, he leaned closer to you, reaching out with a whine. You understood what he wanted immediately, and tugged him to your chest for a hug. He sobbed into your shirt, burrowing into your arms until he felt like he was safe.

"Don't let me go," he whispered, sniffling. "P-please don't let me go."

You hugged him tight, rubbing his back soothingly. "I won't," you promised. "I'm here."

He settled deeper into your arms, clutching you like a lifeline. You continued to hold him, gently rubbing his back and occasionally whispering soothing words to him. You weren't anxious about the day's events at all any more - you were just glad that you could be here to help him through this.

Finally, after a long stretch of silence, he sniffled and whispered. "Th-thank you. I love you."

You smiled, giving him a gentle squeeze and kissing the top of his head. "I love you too."

You two had each other. And you were going to be okay.

[ssentimentals]

okay ik i said it would be the last in my last request but i have two more in my mind so bare with me.... prompt 21 and 17 from the soft prompts with Charles Leclerc!! it just struck to me yk him making his own ice cream brand and all i feel like this will be superb

no pls i love your requests :(( and this is one is so thoughtful!! 💜 hopefully you will like it!

fluff prompt: 'you can call me whever you want, even if you don't have a reason to.' 'between ice cream and you, you might be my favorite.'

you knew that charles was on a shooting for his LEC ice cream, you knew. and it's an important thing, something he always wanted and you knew better than to distract him from the work... but. but you two haven't seen each other in almost two weeks and you just missed your boyfriend too much: clothes he left don't smell like him anymore, his text messages are not enough and you miss him, his presence, his voice, everything. there surely must be some breaks during the shooting, right? what if you get lucky and call right in the middle of one? biting your lower lip, you spend few minutes thinking this over until you finally give in, pressing call and holding your breath till a very familiar voice doesn't answer with: 'yes, my love?'

'charles,' you breathe out and it comes out whiny without you meaning it to.

'what's wrong?' charles immediately asks, urgency clear in his voice. he can't see your face and this whine did not sound like your usual cute-and-bratty whine. this one sounded more like i-am-sad whine and it gets him worried: 'are you okay, amour?'

you shake your head before remembering that he can't see you; with a sigh, you quickly respond to soothe his nerves: 'nothing-nothing. i'm sorry for calling!'

something rustles in the background and then there's a sound of door opening and closing. this time when charles speaks to you, he sounds much closer and louder: 'why are you sorry? you can call me whenever you want, even if you don't have a reason to. but everything is okay, yes?'

'yes, it is. sorry, babe, i just missed you and wanted to call,' you confess, pouting even if he can't see. 'i thought i'd get lucky and catch you during the break.'

'you are lucky, cause it's exactly break time,' charles says, smiling. it's a lie - you called right in the middle of the photoshoot and he asked everyone to wait but what you don't know can't hurt you.

'then just few minutes with me and you can go back to your favorite ice cream,' you decide, smiling. 'how is it going so far?'

charles smiles, leaning on the wall. your cuteness will one day be the death of him, but today is not that day. it warms his heart that you are this open about your feelings and can just call when you miss him - he should learn a thing or two from you in that regard. 'between ice cream and you, you might be my favorite,' he confesses to you secretly, smiling when he hears your laughter.

'sweet talker,' you accuse with fondness. 'you probably have to go, yeah? go, i don't want to keep everyone waiting. have fun, babe! i can't wait to see it all!'

'and here i thought you can't wait to see me,' charles teases. 'i'll be back home soon, okay? don't start dinner without me.'

'bring ice cream!' you shout and charles laughs, going back to the studio.

'only ice cream?'

'bring yourself too,' you mutter with a small smile. 'i love you.'

'i love you too, amour.' charles whispers back. 'see you soon.'

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

[daisymbin]

48. "you taught me what love is, and no one else has come close." With Vernon and female

thank you for requesting!! 🫶

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist!

second chance prompt #48: "you taught me what love is, no one else has come close."

hansol stood on your porch, cradling the cat carrier in his hands, his nerves twisting into knots. the faint meow from inside didn’t ease his worry; if anything, it made it worse. he’d spent the entire night googling symptoms, wondering if he’d done something wrong, and now he was here. back where everything started and ended.

he knocked, swallowing the lump in his throat.

when you opened the door, his breath hitched. you looked the same but different—soft and familiar, like a dream he hadn’t let himself think about in a long time.

“sollie?” his nickname slipping from your lips was laced with surprise and affection he hadn't been expecting. “what are you doing here?”

he held up the carrier, feeling small under your gaze. “he’s not eating much, and he’s been acting… off. i didn’t know who else to call.”

you blinked at him, then stepped aside. “come in.”

hansol followed you into the warmth of your home, the scent of it hitting him like a wave of nostalgia. it was the same, down to the throw blanket on the couch. everything about this place felt like you—safe, steady, and a little too easy to fall into.

he set the carrier down carefully, watching as you unzipped it and coaxed the cat out. your hands were gentle as you examined him, murmuring soothing words. hansol watches as a pang of something bittersweet in his chest. you were always like this—calm, kind, and impossibly good at making everyone around you feel safe.

“hey, buddy,” you murmured, inspecting him closely. the soft tone in your voice made hansol’s chest ache. it wasn’t just for the cat—it was the same way you used to talk to him when he was tired or overwhelmed, the same kindness he never realized he’d miss this much.

you looked up after a moment, a small smile tugging at your lips. “he’s fine, hansol. just a little stressed.”

“stressed?” he repeated, relief and confusion mixing in his voice.

“yeah.” you sat back, letting the cat curl up on your lap. “all the back-and-forth between our places is probably confusing for him. cats don’t like changes, you know. he probably just needs some consistency.”

“oh.” hansol’s shoulders slumped slightly. he felt a little dumb for panicking, but mostly he felt… something else. something warm.

your teasing smile pulled him out of his thoughts. “you’ve changed.”

his brows furrowed. “what do you mean?”

you gave him a teasing smile. “you used to complain when he stole all my attention. now here you are, worried sick and showing him all this love and care.”

hansol looked down, a faint flush creeping up his neck. “yeah, well… people change, I guess.”

you tilted your head, studying him for a moment. the silence stretched between you, not uncomfortable but heavy with unspoken words.

his face flushed. “i mean… he’s important,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze. he wonders if you realise that this cat is the only thing that gives him some type of connection to you.

you laughed softly, the sound lighting up a corner of his heart he didn’t realize was still dark.

“you’ve really changed,” you said again, more softly this time.

hansol looked at you then, really looked at you, and something in him broke open. he thought he was over this. over you. but here you were, reminding him of all the things he loved about you, all the ways you made him feel like he was home.

“you taught me, you know,” he said, his voice quieter than he intended.

your brows knitted together, "taught you what?"

he hesitated, his hands gripping his knees. but then he thought about how much you deserved to know—how much he wanted you to know.

“what love is,” he said finally, his words trembling but certain. “you taught me what it means to care about someone. to put their happiness first. no one else… no one else has ever come close.”

the words hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. you opened your mouth to respond but found yourself at a loss.

“I didn’t realize it back then,” he continued, his gaze unwavering. “I didn’t appreciate what I had, and I’m sorry for that."

you stared at him, eyes wide, your teasing smile replaced by something softer, “hansol…”

“i’m not saying this to make things weird,” he added quickly, his voice tripping over itself. “i just… i realised i never told you how much you meant to me. and i should’ve. you deserved to hear it, to know."

you looked down at the cat in your lap, your fingers running absently through his fur. “we both made mistakes,” you said quietly.

“maybe,” he said. “but i should’ve done better. i should’ve fought for us.”

the room felt heavier, the air thick with unspoken words. hansol thought he might have gone too far, that maybe he should’ve kept those thoughts to himself. but then you looked at him again, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“you know,” you said, your tone light but your eyes warm, “if you keep saying things like that, i might start to think you want a second chance.”

his heart stuttered. “would that be so bad?”

your smile grew, your fingers brushing against his as the cat stretched between you. “that depends,” you said, your voice teasing but your gaze steady. “are you ready to share my attention with the cat this time?”

hansol laughed, the sound surprising even himself. it wasn’t just relief; it was hope.

“yeah,” he said, his voice soft but sure. “i think i can manage that.”

you smiled at him, your hand lingering against his for a moment longer. the cat purred contentedly, nestled between you both, as if sensing that maybe, this time, things could be different.

[moonstruckme]

mae, congratulations on 8k and happy holidays ahhh!!! if you have the time, i could totally see something fun with tasm! peter and the prompt office christmas party. like coworkers to friends to pining and confessions? basically it’s giving jim and pam teapot, BUT i would love to see where your brain takes it

Thank you for requesting! Happy holidays :)

cw: jokes are made about Peter's appearance, but they're very, very sarcastic

coworker!(tasm)Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 639 words

You never usually wear red. It’s not like it’s one of Peter’s favorite colors anyway—he only really wears it for one thing, even if that’s pretty much every day—but he feels suddenly robbed having never seen it on you before. As if you’re not eye-catching enough already, your holiday sweater makes you the brightest thing in the room. 

Peter goes to it like a moth to a flame. Though, in fairness, that’s your usual effect on him, sweater or no. 

“Oh, wow, you lucked out,” he says, raising his eyebrows at your white elephant gift. 

You look up from your desk, grinning when you see Peter. “I know, right?” You hold your prize up enthusiastically, like they’re the keys to your new car and not slippers designed to look like giant man feet with a bow slapped on top of them. “Can you believe I started with a bluetooth shower speaker and worked my way up to these? I mean, Christmas is over at this point. Everyone else can go home.” 

“Those will probably be the best give you’ll ever get,” Peter agrees. He leans against your desk, careful not to disturb the pens lined up neatly by your laptop. “You really managed to land on a personalized one, too. Did you already know they made slippers that match your feet, or did you just find out today?” 

Your shoulders hitch with a laugh, pretty eyes sparkling. Peter feels a warm tug in his gut. Any day he can make you smile is a good one. 

“What did you get?” you ask him. 

“Oh, mine came from the boss man himself.” Peter reaches into his small gift bag, pulling out his prize. “Check this baby out.” 

Your smile stays in place, but you look genuinely perplexed. “A toothbrush?” 

“Not just any toothbrush.” He presses a button on the side, watching your face as a song begins to play from a small speaker. Baby, baby, baby, ohhhh…

Your mouth actually drops open before you cover it with a hand, giggles muffled into your palm. “Okay, wait, wait. I actually want that one now.” 

Peter hisses through his teeth, shrugging remorsefully. “Sorry, but I don’t think I can part with it. It’s too important to me. Anyway, you’ve got your slippers, and they suit you so well…” 

“Right, but” —You school your expression into solemnity. Peter has to work hard to suppress his own grin, thinking to himself that you look like a contestant on that Shark Tank show— “have you considered the potential of these slippers in your love life? I mean, I’ve already basically got it covered with my feet, but Peter…” You hold the slippers up, letting them dangle from a single finger. “These could be a real babe magnet.” 

Peter lets out a long exhale, pretending to consider it. “That’s true. I could use a little help on the dating front…” 

“You could,” you say sympathetically. 

“I mean, my looks on their own are hardly doing the job.” 

“It’s not your fault we weren’t all born naturally attractive.” 

“I am pretty plain…” 

“Homely, even. But that’s alright.” You hold the slippers out again. “That’s where these come in.” 

“Okay.” Peter feigns reluctance, handing over the toothbrush. “You’ve got a deal.” 

“Yes!” Every hair on his leg stands at attention when you put your hand on his knee, squeezing. You’re smiling beatifically. “Thank you, Peter. This means the world.” 

“Yeah, well, you’re doing me a favor too.” He sets his hand on top of yours, squeezing also. “Pleasure doing business with you.” 

Your eyes drop to your hand as if realizing where it is for the first time, and Peter pretends not to notice when your eyes flicker up to his, the teasing in them giving way momentarily to bashfulness. He got the best gift today, for sure. 

[littlefireball]

ᴊʜ|ᴡᴀɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏ ʙᴀᴅ (ᴀ)(ᴍ)

ᴘᴇʀᴠ!ᴊᴏɴɢʜᴏ x 9ᴛʜ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx(ᴏᴏᴘꜱ)|ᴊᴏɴɢʜᴏ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴘᴀɴᴛɪᴇꜱ ᴛʜɪᴇꜰ|ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ|ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ|ʀᴏᴜɢʜ ꜱᴇx(?)

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.3ᴋ

Part 2 of perv!JH x 9th member

One day, while you were tidying up your closet, you noticed that your underwear collection was getting pretty sparse. It struck you as odd since you hadn't tossed out that many. You figured maybe you had stashed some in a different closet and didn't think much of it. So, you picked up a few more pairs and moved all your underwear to another cabinet. 

When Jongho opened your drawer like he usually does, he couldn't find your underwear. Just then, he heard someone say something from behind.

"What are you looking at?Panties thief." 

Oh shit. He fucked up.

He jumped up nervously when he heard your voice. As he turned around slowly, he rubbed his hands together, only to find your angry gaze waiting for him. But instead of feeling nervous or guilty, he was turned on more. There you stood once more, clad in a towel that barely covered you. Your exposed thighs were visible, and your chest appeared even more alluring as you pushed it up by crossing your arms.

"What can you explain?Huh?" You yelled angrily. Jongho stammered, no words formed even if he opened his mouth. You stepped forward,  locking your gaze onto the man who gulped nervously, your enchanting fragrance enveloping him. Gosh. You smelled so good and he found himself drawn to breathe in your captivating aroma.

"Say something, asshole!" 

"Yah!Fuck!" He stepped in even nearer, his large frame casting a shadow over you. Towering above, his height made you instinctively flinch and look away. Then, with a soft touch, he bent down and cradled your chin in his hand. "Then who is always wearing only a towel?Don't tell me you forget your pajamas every time." 

"That's not the main point!Don't try to distract me!" You said that with a sheepish expression, which made him smile. He knew you so well. You're definitely the most reserved one in the group, and you keep your daily style pretty polished, avoiding anything too flashy. Only wearing a towel before your members? He couldn't believe you were not doing it on purpose. 

"You fucking stole me panties!You fucking pervert!!What're you doing with it?!" You pushed away his hand, totally pissed off. 

"You guess?" 

"WHAT THE FUCK!" You smacked at him, but he held your wrists tight to stop you. 

"Hit me harder or your towel will slip down." He spoke with a serene demeanor, his smile only fueling your frustration. You clenched your arms, feeling the towel slip further down. As the realization hit that you were on the verge of exposing yourself, heat rushed to your cheeks, leaving you utterly flustered.

"You fucking bastard, let me go." You tried to shake off his hands but he was too strong. 

"How can you say this to your oppa?" 

"You…shut up!" 

"But I don't want to." He grabbed your wrists, pulling you to his embrace. Leaning down to meet your gaze, his hot breath pooled against your skin. "Unless you want to be naked in front of me." 

"You…you totally a pervert!" You looked away, pursing your lips. 

"Don't tell me you are not." 

"Why am I?" You shouted back.

"So tell me why you are wearing a towel?" 

"I…I…forget my clothes." You trailed off, feeling too shy. 

"Is it?" A playful smile danced across his face as he straightened up to gaze at the bathroom. In the mirror, he caught sight of your pajamas draped casually behind the door. "And what about that dress? Isn't that your sleepwear?"

"I-" 

"Forget to wear clothes when I'm here?" He sneered, pressing his chest against your fists. "Aren't you a pervert?" 

"I-I'm not…" 

"Are you going to continue to be tough, cutie?" 

"Then…then what 'bout you?!You…you stole my panties!" 

"I admit." 

"What?" You gasped in surprise, your eyes growing wide. He pulled you close, his arm encircling your waist, prompting you to rise onto your tiptoes and lean into him.

"Because I want you so bad, love." He stared at your rosy lips before shifting to your eyes. "Then what about you?"

You couldn't deny that you were intentionally drawing him in. Each time he took your hand or brushed against you, a swarm of butterflies danced in your stomach. You were fully aware of the way he gazed at you, like a hunter eyeing his target, yet you feigned ignorance. Whenever he entered your room, a part of you secretly wished for him to linger, prompting you to conjure up reasons for him to stay—suggesting movie marathons or gaming sessions, all while seeking those fleeting moments of closeness.

"Cat gets your tongue, honey?" The name he said gave you shivers, even stirring the depressed desire within you. 

"So can you tell me what would you do if I admit I'm doing all the things on purpose?" Your hand found its way to his nape, wrapping around it to pull him closer. 

"I will kiss you so hard and give my girl all the attention she needs." With a warm smile, he bent closer, his lips brushing against yours as you nodded in agreement. The initial kisses were a bit awkward, a reflection of your inexperience, but soon Jongho's confidence took over, igniting a fiery passion between you. 

Suddenly, a chill enveloped you as your towel slipped away, landing on the floor with a soft thud, causing you to gasp in shock. Seizing the moment, Jongho deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring as you instinctively recoiled in surprise. Yet, he gently but firmly cradled the back of your head, ensuring you remained lost in the intoxicating kisses. 

You both laughed softly as you broke away from the kisses, only to reconnect as he lifted you with ease. With a playful shove, he sent you onto the bed, the mattress releasing a soft puff as you landed. He shrugged off his coat and unzipped his pants, his eyes roaming over your naked figure. You were undeniably stunning, really.

"I don't have a condom." He tossed his clothes aside in a frenzy, unconcerned about the time it took to search for them.

"Me either." 

"Well, one kid doesn't kill. Damn it." Your lips met again as he cupped your face and loomed over you. That was much rougher than last time. He kissed you without care. Lips sucking and smacking were the only sound in the room, fueling your desires even more. His arched crotch pressed against your velvet clit, every friction made from his movement caused you to moan in his mouth. Your legs found their way to wrap up his waist, trying to get more friction as you rub harder. 

"Someone is horny, huh?" He spoke between the kisses, his face diving into your neck as he planted kisses on that. 

"Aren't you?" You replied with a soft voice, tilting your head to give him more access. He smirked at your response, licking your skin to find you trembling. 

"So sensitive." His voice flowed like warm honey, pulling you into the enchanting whirlpool that was him. You relished the way his breath caressed your skin, a soft melody that seemed to savor you like a delicacy. His hand reached down to press your clit, causing you to let out a soft whimper as his touches went further. His fingers glided over your body, a gentle friction on your sensitive spot that made you whimper with delight. He suddenly flattened his fingertip to give a hard press and circle on it and you couldn't help but moan loudly. Stretching your fold slowly, he inserted two fingers into your tightness in one go. 

"Jjong…!" 

"Shh…gotta prepare you well." 

He went as deep as possible until his finger reached your limit, pulling them out fully and shoving back to the depth. Your choppy moan was swallowed by his kiss, only a muffled sound flew from your lips. His pace quickened enough to ruin you, a loud water sound echoed the room as he plunged to your cunt without mercy. You moaned so loud and your face turned red as if oxygen got out of your lungs. 

Your toes curled as you were pushed to the edge, a knot forming in your stomach that urge to release. The wall wrapped around Jongho's fingers tightened and he knew you at the limit. "Cum for me, honey." "Mhm…" His words were just like a trigger, combined with his fingertip kissing your sweet spot suddenly, tugging you to the climax. Your whole body shook as the hot juices released from your lower core, soaking his hand. 

"Good,dear. Look at you." He said, his voice deep and attractive. Your fuzzy eyes met with him sucking his fingers deliciously and left a pop sound when he pulled out. 

"Ready for me?" A smirk crossed on his lips as he climbed on the bed, the mattress dipping down due to his weight. He grabbed his length to pat on your clit, entering your cunt after you nodded as a non-verbal agreement. Shutting your eyes tightly, you arched your back and wrapped your arms around his board shoulder. You leaned back as he hovered you, meeting your lips gently. He stayed still for a while to let you adjust his size. Even if he stretched you but that was not enough for his big fat cock. 

His hand once again reached down to caress your clit, giving you more excitement to make you relax. Once he found you not that intense, he slid deeper as if testing water. Everything was slow and gentle. You naturally got used to his size as his length kept rubbing along your curve deliciously. The way his hard tip kissed your sweet spot caused a wave of pleasure to rush through your body. 

You swore his pre-cum filled your cunt everywhere as it was so hot inside you. He became more impatient as he deepened the kisses. He pulled up your hands above your head, tucking them together so that he could grab them in one hand. Sitting up straight, he slammed his hips toward you as a long, deep moan left his rosy lips. "Damn it, you are so good. I gotta be rough with you." 

"Yes…yes…please." You gasped, tilting your head back to reveal your neck adorned with his marks. With each powerful thrust, a flicker of concern crossed your mind about the bed's stability. The creaking noise echoed around you, making you wonder if it would give way at any moment. Jongho was unfazed; he collided with your warmth, disregarding any potential fallout. Sure, dance practice might be off the table tomorrow since your backs were aching. But who cared? He brushed aside the thought with a carefree attitude as he pounded your cervix with a different angle. 

"Slow…slow down…jjong…" 

"Nope." Withdrawing his cock, he spun you around in an instant, your head hitting the pillow as he held you down, your backside elevated enticingly. With a firm grip on your wrists, he secured your arms behind you, pinning them down with an unyielding strength. One of his hands moved to your nape, grasping it tightly as he continued to roll his hips into you. You moaned so loud that your neighbor must complain tomorrow. But the roughness behind left you no choice. The messy moaning mixed with skin slapping sound, bouncing off the wall to make Jongho go rougher. 

"No…I can't take it…anymore." You huffed, but soon replaced by a high-pitched moan as he spanked you. 

"Just take it, honey." Smack, again. His hand sneaked under your body, reaching to your chest. Cupping it with his palm, he teased your nipple, rubbing it up and down. "So soft." You could only whine, feeling his cock ruin your sensitive, little body. "Hm…" His ball slammed your ass each time he thrashed back to your cunt at a steady pace. You couldn't help but squeeze hard around his cock with your wall, pulling him deeper to kiss the deepest part. 

This sensation made Jongho lost control. "Ah fuck!I'm cumming." A long throaty moan flew from his lips as the climax was approaching. It seemed that all the blood gathered on the tip, urging him to release. "Jongho…oppa…I'm so close." Your fist clenched around the sheet, making your fingertip turn white. "Show me what you get. Honey. Ah fuck!" His moaning was just like a beautiful melody rang in your ears, pushing you to get close to the limit. 

"Oh…oh…!" The harsh trusting lost its rhythm as Jongho became slow. He left his head each time he pushed deeply, staying for a while before another thrusting. A soft whimper left your body as all was overwhelming, the urge of releasing caused your heart to race.

"I can't take it anymore…" Tears gathered in your eyes, your bottom lips shaking as soon as his hard tip kept kissing your spot. 

"Cum…cum with me…Oh fuckkk…" He gasped and strained, releasing his warm essence against your wall, and in that moment, you both reached the peak of ecstasy together. The warmth filled you completely, spilling over onto the sheets. As he laid you down tenderly, he turned you over, only to find your tear-streaked face. He reached down to kiss you as if giving you a tender comfort. 

"You okay?" The words slipped from his lips with a soft pop as he gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You nodded, pulling him closer by wrapping your arms around his shoulder. 

"What about tomorrow's practice?" 

"Uh…just tell them your back hurts because I fucked you too hard."

"Yah! Choi Jongho!" You playfully hit his chest, but he just grinned at you with that charming smile.

"I can see you're still full of energy. Want a round two?" He laughed, teasingly pushing against you once more.

"No way…" A soft moan escaped you as the sensations overwhelmed you. You quickly pressed your lips together, but he caught every bit of your reaction.

"So, you're not denying it?"

"Wait─" Before you could finish your thought, he captured your lips in another kiss and pulled you into a cozy embrace. 

Well, this night was turning out to be incredibly long.

tag list: @angelsaway, @yeosangcutie0615, @monsta-x-jagi

[margoshamangolord]

A BIG POST WHY TFA SENTINEL IS A GOOD CHARACTER WHILE STILL BEING A FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT

lots of thoughts under cut

I hated him like any tfa viewer is expected to, and i still do, because he's wrong oftenly and very fucking immature about his own actions, but it's just that fandom treats him like a simple flat cardboard designed for nagging the main characters, while he's not. Even people usually fond of discussing character depth just go "ew" at him, but i want to prove that he's not worse than even ratchet or bumblebee in terms of writing. His actions have depths, reasons and explanations. I do not want to excuse him in points where he actually fucked up, but i do want to remind that he's a character with a history and insecurities like others in tfa

I want to start off with the fact that while the hate he has inside the fandom is not really interesting, it is easily expected. He acts like a piece of shit and has a lot of negative traits (for example you have his attitude towards organics, and while you could kinda write it into being a reaction to Elita's 'death', it wouldn't be really valid, since Optimus was there too, he saw the same things as him, but he has no disgust towards humans)

The first thing i want to show would be this screenshot from the allspark almanac. It actually broke me when i saw it and prompted to write this because it brilliantly explains his whole character drama.

He feels guilty. He actually knows and admits he made a mistake and he is weighed down by it. He is fully and painfully aware of his stupidity in the situation.

But is he going to admit it? Is he going to apologise? Of course he's not. He cannot carry the weight of his guilt, but he cannot apologise and let himself be weak. So he made a vow.

He presses Optimus down and puts that weight on him because it's easier for him to stand straight reassuring himself that he's not at fault at all here. He feels that if he says sorry, then he'll be guilty forever and will never let go if he acknowledges it. He is guilty and he knows it, but he's immature and he does not want to think about it at all. He distracts himself with the rules and regulations.

"I did it, i fucked up trying to be something greater than i should, breaking rules. I'm never gonna wash it off, I'm guilty, but i must be better. If I don't make any more attempts at throwing over the rules, if I hold down others from doing so, i will be better, right?"

Rules are safety and comfort for him. Breaking rules and trying to be special is something he associates with Elita's death, and his thought process basically is "no rule breaking=no tragic accidents to be responsible for". He's confident that if he does everything by protocol, how he's told, then there will be no situation he would have to be blamed in. Of course he takes it to an extent. You oftenly see him obsessing over rules and regulations more oftenly than others — and now that makes sense.

The second thing would be his profile and Optimus's words about him. This text doesn't really serve us much important information, just a simple outside opinion on how he acts, except the first phrase.

"Sentinel means well, he really does."

As bizzare as it sounds, even Optimus, who he has a very sour relationship with, understands this. Sentinel actually means well — but it's just his experience and perception that really distort what comes out in the end. His "well" is very different from others' "well", but he definitely does not actually mean intentional harm in most occasions.

An unconcious goal that he most likely has is "do not let the elita incident happen again". It actually explains why he's trying to press down Optimus's ambitions and yells at young autobots about the importance of listening to the code. He may see himself in others.

Last is miscellaneous details. He actually covered Optimus and Elita when they were retreating — wouldn't do this if he was as selfish as creators want us to believe. He says he made a mistake in the almanac (when he was kinda being interviewed, he told the truth). Wouldn't really do that too. Most times he's been a dick to Optimus and his crew were him simply not believing immediate information without proof like he believes is the right way, like he's supposed to, and from his perspective he was genuinely sure he's doing the right thing

Conclusion

I would still slap him if i met him. But it doesn't mean that he should be rushed and avoided during discussion of character flaws and I'm tired of him just getting flatted down by the fandom as "mean and stupid do not touch". I want him to be taken seriously, and tbh finding out that he actually feels bad about archa seven is all it takes to be suddenly enlightened about the inner workings of his brain, because it connects all the dots.

And i would give all my money to see him canonically get a better development and more focus in the show. I would love if he accepted his wrongs, and if he had a genuinely honest conversation with Optimus. I really would.