#i totally wanted to be cheeky and just say 'no'

[angermango]

pizza gods

[all4yoi]

𝒥ust a bet﹕hyung line

𝑒nhypen x fem!reader ︎︎⚹︎ cw: angst, no fluff (yet), reader is mostly viewed as a loser and nerd, lowercase intended, kinda went overboard with hoon's, reader gets called a bitch once, not proofread!

sypnosis﹕after a few months of dating, you find out you were just a bet.

part two !

★ LEE HEESEUNG (wc 0.3k)

you and lee heeseung has been dating for a total of five months, and throughout those months you can confidently say that you were the happiest. he was the perfect boyfriend, his family loved you and so did yours.

today, heeseung promised he would take you on a date after his basketball practice despite your protests on how he should be resting instead. you wouldn't have agreed if it weren't for the fact that he had shot you with his pleading big doe eyes that never fails to make you agree on whatever he asks for. 

so here you were, making your way towards the gymnasium with your bag hanging on your left shoulder. the lack of dribbling and smacking basketball noise from behind the closed doors told you that their practice was done.

entering quietly out of habit, you were about to approach your boyfriend when you overheard his teammates talking to him.

"don't tell me you're still with her?" asked one of boys, an amused smile on his face. heeseung only raised a brow.

"what? you won the bet, you can dump her now. you're ruining our image you know? plus she's a total nerd and loser, you're much better with someone like yunhee." and with only just a few words, you felt your world crashing down.

right, who would date someone like you? you always found it weird, that heeseung just approached you one day in your biology class with the cheekiest smile on his face. the fact that he wouldn't leave you alone until you've agreed to go on a date with him. it all made sense now, why the popular basketball captain suddenly gained interest on the school's "biggest nerd."

"speaking of.." another guy spoke, nodding towards you with a cheeky smile. heeseung turned around only to be met with your glassy eyes.

you didn't move, wanting to hear him defend you. wanting to tell his teammates that you weren't a bet and he actually liked you throughout the months you two have been dating.

his silence said everything and with that you turned away and ran out of the gym.

"shit." he muttered, running after you.

★ PARK JONGSEONG (wc 0.3k)

"i'll pick you up later, okay?" your boyfriend of almost a year said softly through the phone. you've been dating jay since the first week of your first year in uni, others found your relationship weird. maybe because back in high school, jay never and refused to even spare you a glance. he was an asshole who looked at you as if you were the epitome of disgusting.

but the past is in the past now, right?

"okay baby, see you." you reply and put your phone down on your table, knowing that he's usually the one who ends the call.

you go back to the papers scattered on your table. the silence in your room was disturbed by sudden noises in your phone, turning to look, you see that jay hasn't ended the call.

picking your phone up with a smile, you were about to call out for him but a voice stopped you.

"i can't believe you've gone this far dude." you recognized the slightly muffled voice, it was a friend of jongseong's.

"what do you mean?" your boyfriend grumbled. the audio was muffled, you figured he was moving and the phone was in his pocket.

"you're still dating her!" the voice exclaimed, as if amused. "seriously, i didn't think you'd take that bet seriously. fine you win, i'll clean your car for a month. but you've gotta cut it out, you're starting to disgust me." the boy laughed.

before you could hear what your boyfriend would say, you ended the call. your hand was trembling and tears were falling from your eyes unconsciously.

were all those months just a joke to him? were your feelings really worth a free car wash for just a month? were you that unworthy?

jay was an asshole back in high school, you thought he changed. turns out he didn't, you felt like a fool for falling for his antics.

★ SIM JAEYUN (wc 0.3k)

if someone would be asked who you were, they'd all say the same thing. a loner, pathetic loser, and a nobody with a pretty face.

because what was a pretty face if you had no friends and a social life?

you almost believed you would die alone, you were too socially awkward to make friends. so when sim jaeyun, the transferee, approached you with a warm smile and a hand outstretched for a shake, you were beyond shocked.

your relationship went from being block mates, friends, then next thing you knew you two were dating. at first you were reluctant to enter a relationship, scared that it would ruin your friendship, but he insisted you both tried. that was three months ago.

you didn't have any friends, but atleast you had jake.

jake who smiles at you as if you had carved the stars in your hands. jake who would never forget to bring your coffee every morning. he was everything you ever needed. he was it for you, you only hoped he felt the same towards you.

walking through the hallway of the school, you stopped infront of your locker only to be met with a sticky note on it.

HOW LONG CAN JAKE LAST WITH LOSER L/N?

A WEEK : 卌 - 卌 - 卌 - 卌 - III

FIVE MONTHS : 卌 - I

A YEAR : II

Furrowing your brows, you stare at the note as your breathing grew heavy. It was obvious that the paper was old, it had folds and it was only stuck on your locker with a washi tape.

"what are you doing l/n? go on, cast your vote." a mocking voice said from beside you followed by a bunch of laughter. "personally, i thought he'd last a day. i guess i'll vote for five months then." then the hand went and tallied on the five months category.

"what's going on here?" upon hearing your boyfriend's voice, you fled away immediately, not wanting to face him. everytime something good happens in your life, it's always ripped away from you. jake was just like them, you were just a toy for their own entertainment.

★ PARK SUNGHOON (wc 0.5k)

"i'm sorry baby, i really am busy with practice tomorrow." your boyfriend, sunghoon, says in genuine sorry. it was the fifth time you have asked him to meet your parents, who also by the way was so desperate to meet the boy you've been dating for seven months now.

every time you ask him, he's always busy. either with practice, a project, a family matter, or whatever excuse he can come up with. but you always brush it off, knowing he means well and he really is busy as he's an athlete student.

"i'll meet them next week, okay? i promise." that's also the same thing he says everytime too, and once again, you only nod in response.

you and sunghoon met in a physics class. he was clutching his head with a frown on his face as he desperately tried to understand what the professor was going on about.

you remember clearly the way he approached you in the library, a physics book on his left hand as his right scratched his nape. "can.. i noticed- uh, can you help me with this topic?"

that was where your relationship started. you tutored him and helped him improve his grade. when he got an A on the finals, he kissed you on the lips in glee. he was taken aback by his own actions but nevertheless asked you out after.

"i love you," he whispers, pressing a kiss on your temple. "let me get something from my room." you hum in response as he takes his arm that was previously wrapped around you before going up to his room.

you can't help but notice the way his phone was blowing up from beside you.

you weren't the type to snoop around other people's phones, especially your boyfriend. it just felt wrong, you trusted him fully. but the way it kept ringing with text notifications, you just couldn't help it.

looking back to the stairs, you note he isn't back and there was still rummaging noises from his room.

taking his phone, you enter his passcode and read the messages from one of his group chats.

JONGSU

lol don't tell me she asked again.. em ba rrah sing

DAEHYUN

hahah when is she gonna take a hint?? 💀

JOON

you gonna blame her? hoon's been at it for months lmao

DAEHYUN

i actually can't believe he went that far, wasn't it only supposed to be for a month? 🗿

JONGSU

a week actually, but ig that bitch y/n was so easy. yk hoon likes to get his ego fed 💀💀

putting the phone down, you exhaled in disbelief. you took your bag from the floor and threw it over your shoulder and went to the door of his apartment to put your shoes back on.

"baby?" sunghoon emerged from the stairs, looking at you curiously. "you're going already?" he asked, extending an arm towards you but you slapped it away. the tears on your eyes shocking him.

"hey, hey what's wrong?" he tried again but his hand was yet again slapped away.

"i don't want to see you ever again." was the last words you uttered to him (shakily) before leaving his apartment.

[f0ofishies]

FL*SHING THEM AFTER AN ARGUEMENT

tsukishima kei, ushijima wakatoshi, oikawa tōru

Tsukishima Kei, your beloved fiance. You loved the man to death, you swear.. it's just that he's always been like this. All of the damn time. There was one time when you argued over dinner because someone didn't want to eat Italian. Seriously? How'd you even date this guy and later on accept a ring from him.

Just kidding, he has his cute moments. The man had prioritized you a lot during his college days. He must've fallen hard for you, huh? When he did get on one knee, you thought it was a prank. Nonetheless, you said yes— already being engaged for 4 months, too!

Back on topic, he's always been a cranky mother fucker and even more when he lose that volleyball match. You looked at him— in astonishment. This man had the audacity to even be too confident in a little fun of chess?

You couldn't even believe the audacity of him. He'd been laughing at your move on your black horse.. "Gee, just get one with it, babe..!" Another ridiculing sentence from him could've sparked a fire inside you. "Hah? Seriously, why'd you even do this rematch— when you clearly don't know chess."

Your eye must've twitched at that, you love him, and you swear to that on your life. But, seriously, he's getting on your last nerve. As he quickly moved his queen, grabbing your knight in the process. You moved another piece as he smiled. "Thank god, we don't do rematches in volleyball."

Your joke immediately made his smirk turn sour. As you chuckled to your own statement, your eyes glanced up to his. He immediately gave a disgusted face at you. "What, Tsuki?—" You tease, almost pinching his face as he has moved away from your hand.

"What is your problem..?" Now that made you raise an eyebrow. "My problem—?" He can't be serious right now. And that's how he ended up giving you the silent treatment, ending the chess match when it just started. You were utterly confused... even bewildered by his actions

Knowing your fiance won't crumble to a piece of you, you just quickly called out. "Kei?" He didn't even look at you.. oh, so that's how he was going to play. "Tsuki?" No budge, huh? The man had some nerves for ignoring his future wife. "Tsukishima Kei." Last call, he finally whipped his head to you.

Rolling your shirt up— his golden brown eyes dilated at the sight of your perky, wait, wait, this was cheating. "That's right, doofus.. I know you can't ignore them." You could totally hear the clogs in his brain working. Even bouncing them a bit— He quickly pulled your shirt down. "Hey—! what was that for??"

"You're in one hell of a ride, do that shit again. I dare you, baby."

How much aura did you gain after marrying the Ushijima Wakatoshi? You, the lovely wife, as ever.. had always been the cheeky one in the marriage. During one of his games, you'd literally chant his name out so loud. Maybe the whole stadium could hear you.

He'd be there happily, holding the ring chained around his neck. Giving you a small smile— You couldn't help but beam as you show off your ring finger too! Now that was months ago, your husband came home in a sour face after meeting his parents.

"Baby, how were your parents?" You asked him, quickly smiling as you cooked your signature curry. "Fine like usual." His deep voice caught you off guard as you felt a hand crept behind you. "Oh, so what did they—" "Can we not." You tilted your head.. "Sure.. okay." You compiled because who were you to say anything about that?

You looked at him as he ate, he felt your stare. "Yes, love?" The way your hand had been tapping on to counter.. like crazy. Lost in thought, you look up at him. "Toshi.. you know you can tell me anything?" Of course he knew that so he raised an eyebrow. "I know."

You were itching to know why he's so persistent on not telling you why.. he would usually just tell you at this point. But he seriously didn't want to talk about it, so he dismissed your concerns once again. "But babe.." You whined.. something in him just snapped.

"No, can you stop trying?" You huffed at his tone of language.. it was kind of your fault for being this nosy. So now here you were having a full blow argument. Were you petty? Definitely, a hundred percent. So when your husband had genuinely left you in the kitchen. You huffed—

Clearly, he needed a lot of space, huh? Shutting the bedroom door very tight— you wanted to go sleep there, but how? He had locked it from the inside. "Toshi..?" You called out. No answer. "Ushijima Wakatoshi!" You yelled out and finally the familiar 'click!' You finally let out a sigh and practically go in fast.

He's still on the bed, clearly trying to sleep. "Toshi..~" Your sweet velvety voice intoxicating him then sliding onto the bed— even straddling onto him. Still, the man laid bare, not even checking you out. You intentionally grind, trying to find the best friction. His hands finally with all of its glory wrapped around your hips.

"Look up." Your command might've sent a shudder on your poor husband. The blood pumping down to his familiar friend down there— oh how a vixen you were.. Seriously, he saw the way you held your shirt up. Those breasts out in the air just for him. "Mmm? Want it bad?"

"I swear, wife— you're always all talk and no action.."

That Argentinan volleyball player was taken by you! Who knew he had the hots for you. Tōru Oikawa, he had recently left Japan for Argentina.. then he met you. Somehow, you two clicked. Clearly, you only thought he was just getting into your pants but nope!

The infamous girlfriend of the volleyball player never really visited his games. Probably because your work always consumed your time. Tōru was beyond okay with that— of course he was. But after such a long tiring game, all he wanted to do was a date night with you. Sadly, you were still out at work.. in overtime. How could you not remember it at all? When you came home, his first response was immediate silence. Seriously nothing!!

"Tōru?" You called out in the shared apartment, finally slipping off your shoes. Stretching your arms wide as no response. "...Babe?" You called out once more. Absolutely nothing— you panicked, of course. Already running around to find him.That's when you spotted your sulky boyfriend, buried deep into the bed among all the plushies you have.

"Shit, babe.. did something happen at practice?" You asked him as he finally noticed your presence. An immediate huffed was heard, thanks to him. "Babe..? Baby..!!" You whined the petname, trying to uncover the blankets.

There he was, your lovely boyfriend. Tōru glared at you, those dark brown hues of his. "What's made you so sour..?" You asked him once more, trying to coerce him out of his moodiness. "I wonder why." He interrupted you, that made you raise an eyebrow. "Babe..."

You were utterly clueless, even when he avoided your touches. It suddenly clicked to you, a promise to him on for a date. You internally groan at that, "Shit, Tōru you know I didn't mean to forget.." Your hand itching to grasp his— yet he pulled away once again. "You always forget about me.." He whined into your shared pillows. "No I don't.. baby.. I'll make it up to you!!" You try to reason with him.

That's what got him to lash out at you. You did kind of deserve it— so here you are on the bed trying to get a sulky Tōru out of your shared bedroom once more. An idea popped into your head! "Tōru.. I have something to show you.." You found the man finally walk out of the bedroom. His disheveled appearance still looked way too good for your own eyes.

Your fingers found their way to your blouse— giving him a sweet smile. Only halfway through, you were damn thankful for picking a good bra for today. "Baby, I'm really sorry.." You whispered. And finally— your breasts were in full view of his sight. Nothing could have prepared you for the feral Tōru ravishing you!

The man was full on groping your breasts, even fiddling with those buds.. was he really that turned on? You couldn't believe you've let him play with you like this. On the tips of your heels— you needed more friction down there, too. So you whined at him, how your cunt needed his fingers too! And that's what he did, dipped them into your soaked panties.

"Fffuck— that's not fair, babe.. yknow your boobs and pussy are my weakness..!"

[lumosou]

୨୧ — How I Imagine the Harry Potter boys would kiss you ෆ˃̶͈̑.˂̶͈̑ෆ ; 𖦹 + ♡

ꕤ — Characters ; Harry J Potter. Ron Weasley. Fred Weasley. George Weasley. Neville Longbottom. Draco Malfoy. Blaise Zabini.

ꕤ — Discretion ; none! just tooth rotting love and fluff <3

ꕤ — A/n ; hi my lovelies! I wanted to do something cute n sweet for my first post ;3 so so excited to start posting on here !

; masterlist.

୨୧ — Harry J. Potter.

I think Harry would kiss you like he’s figuring it out as he goes—messy, unsure, but so full of feeling it’d make your head spin. Like, he’s not the type to sweep you off your feet with a perfectly choreographed kiss; he’s the type to bump noses with you first because he’s too nervous about getting it “right.” And honestly? That makes it so much better.

He’d start slow, probably brushing his lips against yours so softly it almost feels like an accident. But then, once he’s sure you’re into it—because he’s always making sure you’re okay—he’d lose himself a little. Like, his hands would slide up to cup your face, and you’d feel the slight scrape of his thumb along your jaw.

And God, I think he’d be so focused. Like, nothing else in the world matters except the way your lips feel against his. He’d press closer, maybe let out this little sigh, and it’d completely ruin you. But the best part? The way he’d look at you after. His cheeks all flushed, his hair even messier than usual, and that stupid shy grin that makes your knees weak. Because Harry kisses like he means it. Every time.

୨୧ — Ron Weasley.

I think Ron would kiss you like he’s got something to prove—half desperation, half pure, unfiltered sweetness. Like, he knows he’s not the smoothest guy out there, but he’s so determined to make you feel wanted that it doesn’t even matter. His kisses would be a little clumsy, a little too much at first, but in the cutest way—like he’s trying so hard to get it right that it just makes you want to kiss him more.

He’d be the type to start with this awkward pause, like he’s gearing himself up. His ears would go bright red (obviously), and he’d mumble something like, “Alright, here goes,” before diving in. His lips would be warm and soft, maybe even slightly chapped from hours out in the cold during Quidditch practice, and the moment he realized you were kissing him back? Oh, he’d melt.

Ron’s hands would get kind of fumbly—like, is he supposed to hold your face? Your waist? He’d settle for pulling you closer, holding you like you might disappear if he lets go. And when he pulls back, he’d have this dopey little grin, looking like he just won the Quidditch World Cup. Because kissing you would feel like winning to Ron. Every single time.

୨୧ — Fred Weasley.

Fred would kiss you like it’s the most fun he’s had all day—which, knowing him, it probably is. There’d be this spark of mischief behind every kiss, like he’s daring you to keep up with him. He’d definitely start with some cheeky comment, maybe teasing you for staring at his lips (even though he’s totally the one who leaned in first).

His kisses would be playful, always keeping you on your toes. He’d nip at your bottom lip just to hear you gasp, or he’d pull back for half a second to smirk at you, only to dive back in before you could even protest. But it wouldn’t just be teasing—because when Fred gets serious, oh, you feel it.

The moment you thread your fingers through his hair or tug him closer, he’d lose the joking edge. His hands would settle firmly at your waist, and his kisses would turn deeper, hungrier, like he can’t get enough of you. And when it’s over? He’d rest his forehead against yours, grinning like an idiot.

“Not bad,” he’d say, all cocky, even though you both know he’s already planning how to kiss you again. Because Fred kisses you like it’s a game—and you’re always his favorite prize.

୨୧ — George Weasley.

George would kiss you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. There’s no rush, no big buildup—just an easy, quiet confidence that makes you feel like you’ve always belonged in his arms. He’s softer than Fred, less about teasing and more about making you feel like you’re the only person in the room.

I think George would start by brushing his thumb along your cheek, his gaze steady but warm, like he’s making sure you’re okay with this. And then? He’d kiss you slowly, deeply, like he’s memorizing every little detail—the curve of your lips, the way you sigh when he tilts his head just right.

His hands would be steady, one resting lightly on your hip, the other slipping up to cradle the back of your neck. He wouldn’t need to pull you closer—you’d already be leaning into him without realizing it.

When he pulls back, he’d linger, his nose brushing yours, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I could get used to that,” he’d say, his voice low and teasing, but his eyes would give him away. Because George kisses you like you’re his favorite secret, and he’s not in any hurry to share.

୨୧ — Neville Longbottom.

Neville would kiss you like he can’t quite believe it’s happening. Like, he’d hesitate at first, overthinking every little detail—what if he messes up? What if you don’t actually want this? But the second your lips meet, all that doubt would melt away, and he’d kiss you like it’s the only thing that matters.

I think he’d start so gently, almost nervously, his lips barely brushing yours as his hands hovered awkwardly at your sides. But when you kiss him back, maybe run your fingers through his hair or pull him a little closer? That’s when Neville would relax and let himself get lost in the moment.

His kisses would be soft but steady, unhurried and full of care, like he’s trying to show you just how much you mean to him without fumbling for words. His hands would find your waist, warm and grounding, pulling you closer but never overwhelming you.

And afterward? He’d pull back, cheeks flushed and eyes wide, looking at you like you’d just handed him the moon. “Was that okay?” he’d ask, his voice small, but there’d be this quiet pride in his smile when he sees you grinning. Because Neville kisses you like he’s giving you his heart—and he kind of is.

୨୧ — Draco Malfoy.

Draco would kiss you like he’s got something to prove. There’s a tension to it, this electric mix of control and vulnerability, like he’s daring you to understand him better than he understands himself. His kisses wouldn’t just be about passion—they’d be about making you feel something, because Merlin knows he’s already feeling more than he’s ready to admit.

I think he’d start slow, almost teasing, brushing his lips over yours like he’s testing the waters. But the second you lean into it, the second you give him permission, it’s over. His hand would cup your jaw, tilting your face up just so, and he’d kiss you with this intensity that leaves no room for doubt—he wants you.

He’d be precise, calculated even, but there’s something raw underneath it all. Like, when your hands slide into his hair or tug at his robes, he’d let out this tiny, unguarded noise, and it’d make him kiss you harder, like he’s trying to drown in you.

When he pulls back, his breathing would be uneven, and he’d avoid your gaze at first, his cheeks faintly pink. But then he’d smirk—because of course he would—and murmur something cocky, like, “Don’t expect me to stop now.” Because Draco kisses you like it’s a battle he’s already lost—but he doesn’t mind losing to you.

୨୧ — Blaise Zabini.

Blaise would kiss you like it’s an art form. He’d be smooth, confident, and deliberate, every movement carefully designed to make you weak in the knees. He’s the type to take his time, to savor every second, because he knows exactly the effect he’s having on you—and he loves it.

I think he’d start by tilting your chin up with just the tips of his fingers, his dark eyes locked on yours like he’s daring you to look away. And then he’d lean in, brushing his lips against yours so lightly it’s almost maddening. He’d tease you like that for a moment, letting the anticipation build, until finally, finally he kisses you properly.

His lips would be soft but firm, moving with this unhurried precision that leaves you breathless. One hand would settle at the small of your back, pulling you closer with this effortless ease, while the other slides up to cradle the back of your neck, his thumb brushing softly against your skin.

When he pulls back, he’d pause for just a second, letting his lips hover close to yours as a slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face. “Was that what you wanted?” he’d murmur, his voice low and teasing, like he already knows the answer. Because Blaise kisses you like it’s a privilege—and one he doesn’t take lightly.

﹙@ 𝗹𝘂𝗺𝗼𝘀𝗼𝘂 ﹚

[c0ffeejelly1]

No Nut November

Multiple character headcannons

Authors note: this is the only November post y’all r getting so hahahahahhaahah. I rushed this just today so say thank you. Bye bye. (POST-TIMESKIP!!)

Warning: kinda suggestive but like y’all don’t do anything.

“You know what time of month it is, right baby?”

You asked your boyfriend, all while adjusting your makeup in mirror a cheeky smile on your face taking a quick glance at him sitting down on your bed watching you intensely.

“…it’s not our anniversary, is it?” He asked, a hint of confusion in his voice.

“What? No, I’m talking about it being November…y’know? No Nut November?”

He visibly shifts in his seat. He knew what you were going to ask him.

“you think you can last the month? Im willing to bet on it.”

The type to not even last a day

“Man that’s light work! I could easily last a month if I wanted to—"

He failed.

“Okay but it’s not my fault. Y-you decided to wear that out, not me!”

“You say it like I purposely did it to make you lose..”

“Because you did!”

He’s not accepting the fact that he lost on the day you challenged him.

Do you know how embarrassing that is?

Imagine how badly he’s gonna get teased by all his mates if they ever find out he couldn’t help but bust one on you!

“You better keep this between just us..”

Should he really be saying that when he’s the one who started tearing off your clothes and tossing them aside?

Should he really be saying that when he’s the one who pleaded for just a few minutes to enjoy you?

Should he really be saying that when—

“Why’re you looking at me like that!”

You were looking at him like he was an idiot. You really couldn’t believe what he was saying.

Was it really that bad he didn’t last that long?

I mean it’s sort of flattering to you, seeing that your boyfriend could get so turned on from just you wearing a nice outfit.

“Because you just sound stupid why can’t you admit you lost and call it a day?” You huff.

“Because it doesn’t count!”

He pouts, crossing his arms in annoyance, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks as he turns away from you on the bed where you both lay bare, slick with each other’s essences from your prior…activities.

“And it’s stupid. This whole no nut November nonsense is stupid! I mean who would even come up with that kind of torture? why would someone want to restrict themselves from such a bliss that-"

You spend the rest of that evening listening to the poor guy complaining about how November is a stupid month.

Characters: REIGEN, Tenegn, Eren, Reiner, Hinata, Oikawa, BOKUTO, MAMMON, Leviathan, ASMODEUS, ITTO, kaeya, RAFAYEL (any character you like)

The type to last a week

“You sure you wanna bet on that? Y’know before we started dating I wasn’t the kind of guy who needed Intimacy in their life…"

He totally regrets saying those things because now they’re just gnawing at him.

This is all your fault, you hear him?

You- you did something to him okay?

Never in his life has he felt so…so…

Vulnerable?

Jesus, this was suppose to be a walk in the park so why do you suddenly look so...sexy?

You were just watching TV, but the way you curled up on the couch made your thighs press together in a way that was hard to ignore.

And that shirt of yours?

It was barely hanging on your shoulder, giving him a peek at your bra strap, while your hand rested on your stomach, revealing just enough skin.

Damn, even the way you bit your lips without realizing it was driving him wild—he couldn’t handle a whole month of this!

He was so caught up in you that he didn’t even notice how his body was inching closer.

It wasn’t until you turned to him, your noses almost touching, that he realized it.

Did you eyes always look so beautiful?

And your lips…they never looked this soft before.

“..you’re so gorgeous baby, is this some kind of punishment?..”

He gently cups your cheek, his lips almost brushing against yours when suddenly—

“What are you doing?”

This snaps him out of his trance before a deep blush spread across his face.

“I-I..I dunno? You just- well I thought…”

Yeah he sure as hell was thinking.

Thinking of all the ways he could have you!

He lets out a small whine, his brows knitting together in frustration.

“Can we just…not do this challenge anymore…please?”

I mean if he’s talking to you like that, who are you to say no?

Besides you could always just…edge him a lil right?

Characters: REIGEN (again), SERIZAWA, Rengoku, Armin, Jean, BOKUTO (again), CHOSO, Beelzebub, DIAVOLO, ITTO (again), Thoma, LAIOS (any character you like)

The type to barely last the whole month

“Why would you want to do that? We both know you’re not gonna make it."

“Well the challenge is for you! Not me!”

“...but my point still stands.”

His point sure as hell did stand and it hurt you to admit that he was right!

Already 17 days in and he hadn’t budged an inch.

How was this man still going??

You even tried to sabotage him, sitting on his lap only for him to laugh and gently push you off.

Kissing up his neck with your arms around his waist while he made dinner only for him to ask you to grab some spices.

Even you making crude dirty jokes, only for him to blush slightly and brush you off!

This was just getting ridiculous and now you were looking like the needy one!

“For someone who wanted me to take on this challenge, it seems like you’re the one feeling it the most.”

You shoot him a glare.

You were annoyed he was right.

Annoyed that he could still tease you, fully damn aware of what you wanted!

“You can hold out for another 13 days can’t you, sweetheart? I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

What you didn’t realize was that these last few days were weighing on your boyfriend too.

He was doing a great job of hiding it when you were around, but when he was alone—

“Shit…”

He slammed his fist against the bathroom wall at work a growing tightness forming in his pants.

You just loved to tease, didn’t you?

Couldn’t you see this was driving him crazy too?

And to think you could send him such…things while he’s at work!

“Damn this…”

He was going to get his revenge; mark his words. Once this month wraps up, he was going to have his way with you.

And so he did yippee!! 😈

Characters: Giyuu, Kageyama, TSUKISHIMA, kuroo, IWAIZUMI, Akaashi, Ushijima, SUNA, Osamu, Geto, NANAMI, Lucifer, Satan, SOLOMON, Ayato, DILUC, Neuvillette, Writhoesley, ZHONGLI, Sylus, Zayne (any character you like)

The type to say they lasted the whole month (he jerked off)

“Babe come on, we both know I have some self restraint when it comes to you.”

“Do we?”

He shoots you a sharp look.

“Yes. We do. And I find it quite offensive you don’t believe I can last a simple 30 days without sex-"

You had to break it to him he couldn’t touch himself.

“I-I can’t?!”

Sure it was a lil surprising to him to hear that he couldn’t flick his tip and buss one little nut, but hey!

That wasn’t going to stop him!

I mean how would you ever find out he touched himself if you weren’t there, huh?

Simple as that!

“You’re...strangely happy today...something good happen?”

A few days had gone by since the challenge started, and November was finally winding down, which felt like a relief after those tough days.

The main reason for the struggle was your boyfriend’s constant whining about how his “body craved some kind of touch—anything!”

Now all of a sudden he’s happy days and roses.

You were suspicious.

“Who wouldn’t be? 30 days of war are finally over! Told you I could last.”

You give him a weird look.

It was almost too obvious that he had done something. That smirk was unmistakable—the same one he wore when he knew he’d crossed a line!

The same one he flashed when he’s trying to keep his secrets under wraps!

“You failed didn’t you.”

“W-what! Where’d ya get that idea?”

He finally admits to you after a while of back and forth he failed a few days after the night you challenged him.

At least he lasted a week in?

Characters: Dimple, Sanemi, TENGEN, Connie, Nishinoya, Ukai, Tendou, ATSUMU, GOJO, Toji, MAMMON (again), Belphagor, CHILDE, kaeya (again), CHILCHUCK, Rafayel (again) (any character you like)

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 5 (part two)

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 3.8k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

Years later, you’d still wonder if Topper did it all on purpose. 

When you asked him, he’d just wink and say “bet you’d like to know.” 

As your group walked down the dock towards the rental kiosk, Topper pulled out his phone, grinning down at the screen.

“What’s funny?” Carter tried to read over his shoulder.

“Nothing,” he tucked his phone in his pocket quickly, failing to hide the cheeky look in his eyes, zero poker face. “Kelce is coming.”

The guy Carter had haggled with brought your group over to the three jet skis and gave you a demonstration on how to drive them. You weren’t paying very close attention, more focused on the uneven pairing of the five of you and how to ensure you didn’t end up on the same jet ski as Tom. His rudeness this morning was the final nail in the coffin of your crush.

The guy gave Carter three keys, and you met her eyes, knowing she was thinking the same thing. 

Topper looked at Carter hopefully, his big puppy dog eyes watching her with anticipation. You felt for him, the two of you really weren’t all that different. Sure, he’d gotten to hook up with Carter plenty of times, his crush not totally unrequited, but she’d never given him what he really wanted. At the end of the day, you were just two people who were really good at loving people who didn’t love you back. Still, you knew in your heart of hearts that Carter did love him back, even if she wouldn’t admit it. Maybe you would never get your dream, but you could make sure that two people you cared about got theirs, and that might be the only thing that made this all worth it.

You planned it out quick, knowing Carter was seconds from asking you to ride with her so you wouldn’t be with Tom, and also knowing that what she really wanted was an afternoon alone with Topper.

“I told Kelce I’d ride with him,” you blurted out. 

“Did you?” Carter asked skeptically, trying to figure you out.

“Yeah, I think he’s still worried I’m mad at him,” you made up off the top of your head. “Thought I’d throw him a bone.”

Carter watched you the whole time she boarded the back of Topper’s jet ski, telling him to wait up so they didn’t leave you alone. Tom and Sabrina didn’t seem to care about leaving you, speeding off the second they climbed on their jet ski, Sabrina’s over-the-top shrieks echoing through the air.

“That bother you?” Topper asked when he caught you scowling in their direction.

“Actually, I’m thinking they might be made for each other,” you concluded.

“So you’re not, like, into him?” Topper asked hopefully.

“Not anymore. That ship sailed so quick,” you snorted.

“Ah,” he tried to play it cool, “good to know.” 

“Don’t get any fucking ideas,” Carter warned him.

“I didn’t say anything!” He insisted.

“You don’t have to, you have zero poker face,” Carter said. “No Tom does not equal yes Rafe.”

“I’m just saying it’s good to know. Am I not allowed to know things?” 

You rolled your eyes at their bickering, less than surprised they were having this conversation right in front of you.

“Y’know, you guys can just take off, I’ll be fine waiting for Kelce,” you offered, desperate to move this conversation about your love life out to sea and away from you.

“Right, Kelce,” Topper nodded. “Kelce is coming.”

“Why are you being so weird?!” Carter squinted at him.

“I’m not! I just wanna go!” Topper revved the engine of the jet ski.

Carter looked at you one more time, checking that you were okay with this.

“Have fun!” You said to reassure her.

That’s all Topper needed to hear, he hit the throttle and pulled away from the dock as fast as he could. Carter’s laughter filled the air, she grabbed him tight and tucked her chin in the crook of his shoulder as he drove. She was happy, so you were happy. Your whole life, that’s really all it took, and you knew she felt the same way about you.

With that lovely thought, you climbed on the jet ski so you’d be ready to go as soon as Kelce arrived. 

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Rafe held the keys a little too tight, Kelce struggling to pry them from his hands.

“You gotta take it easy on the clutch, she’s sensitive.”

“I know how to drive, man,” Kelce wriggled the keys from his grip as he climbed into the driver’s seat of Rafe’s truck.

Rafe stalled by the door for a minute, his feet suddenly feeling very heavy. He looked around the marina, scanning for the group. His heart skipped a beat when he found only you, bobbing in the water on your jet ski all alone.

He’d texted Topper a head’s up that he was coming and asked him to let you know. He didn’t want you to think he was in on Topper’s dumbass scheme to get you two together. If he was gonna do this he was gonna do it right, not try to trick you into it.

Now you were waiting for him, looking so gorgeous with your legs on either side of the seat and your hair blowing gently in the wind. 

Usually, he didn’t call girls beautiful, typically opting for hot, or sometimes pretty if he was drunk. But the only word for you right now, and always, was beautiful.

“You gonna let me leave, man?” Kelce asked, gesturing to Rafe’s hands, still clutching the handle of the door.

“Yeah, sorry,” Rafe pulled away, wiping his hand against his board shorts when he realized it was clammy, the sight of you making him nervous in a way he had never been before.

“What’s got you so worried? Are you scared of her or something?” Kelce mocked him.

Rafe was surprised that Kelce had actually caught on to who he was looking at, giving him an annoyed eye roll.

“I’m not scared of her,” he defended himself.

“Don’t even worry about it man, I bet she’s still wrapped around your finger.”

Rafe shot Kelce a steely warning look he’d given him a thousand times.

“I’m just saying, you don’t need to worry,” Kelce explained. “You’re the man.”

Kelce was an idiot, and he spent a good ninety percent of their friendship pissing Rafe off, but he always tried to hype Rafe up. Usually he was annoyed by it, but right now, he actually needed it.

You used to talk about him that way, too. Oh, the money he would pay for you to see him in a good light again. He’d swim across this entire bay just to hear one kind word about him coming from your lips. 

“Nah, I’m really not,” he shook his head slightly, looking back toward you. “But I think with her I could be.”

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The audacity, the fucking nerve of him to come strolling down the dock looking that good. The sun actually broke through the crowds at his arrival, like he’d bribed the gods. He strolled towards you so casually, his grin easy, like he didn’t know he was the most attractive man you’d ever seen in real life. It pissed you off.

“What are you doing here?” You snapped at him when he reached you.

His grin faltered, like he was the one surprised to see you.

“Didn’t Topper tell you I was coming?” He asked.

“No, of course he didn’t,” you said, finally understanding the reason for Topper’s strangeness earlier.

“I asked him to,” Rafe swore. “I didn’t want to make you think I was trying to-”

“I think I’m just gonna go alone,” you cut him off, turning the key in the engine of the jet ski, desperate to put an ocean between you and him before he said another considerate thing that he’d just undo later. “You can rent your own.”

“No can do,” said the owner, arriving to hand Rafe a lifejacket. “This is our last one. You better take your boyfriend with you, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes at the situation and the misogynistic comment. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you mumbled. 

Rafe felt the correction was unnecessary, but you didn’t seem to be in the mood for constructive feedback at the moment.

“Is it cool if I, uh, can I come with you?” He wasn’t walking back down this dock without trying.

“Fine,” you agreed reluctantly. “But I’m driving.”

“Good with me,” he climbed on quickly before you could change your mind.

With a kick that sent you both lurching forward, the jet ski roared as you tightened your hand on the throttle. Instinctually, Rafe’s hands landed on your side, holding you both in place. You only had a second to feel the pads of his fingers clinging to the soft skin of your waist before he pulled them away.

“Shit, sorry,” he said.

The guy on the dock leaned forward to push the jet ski from the dock, redirecting you out toward the bay.

“No, actually you should hold on,” he instructed. “These babies go fast and it’s a little choppy out there today. Take it real easy out of the marina and then you can kick it up when you’re in open water.”

You could feel Rafe’s hands twitch with hesitancy before they rested on your sides again, so lightly you wondered if he was actually touching you at all.

With a push, you drifted out to sea, slowly picking up speed with the turn of the throttle.

“Do you want me to let go?” He asked, leaning in so you could hear him over the roar of the motor.

Somehow, you thought two completely conflicting thoughts at the exact same time:

Yes, now.

and

No, never.

You settled on, “whatever.”

Rafe started to let go, but the jet ski hit the wake of a nearby boat, and you both nearly flew off the seat. His grip tightened protectively, practically pinning your body down. With his strong hands on you so firmly, it felt like you could hit a tidal wave and he’d still have you in his grasp. You needed more of whatever that was.

Your laughter filled the salty air as you purposefully drove you and Rafe over the choppiest patches of the water, hair whipping behind you into his face, and he didn’t even care. He watched you in the side view mirror on the front of the jet ski, memorizing every inch of your smile like he’d never see it again.

“Jesus, are you trying to kill us?” He teased, yelling over the woosh of the wind.

“It’d be a fun way to go!” You yelled back, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

Rafe’s hands still on your waist, you felt him lean in slightly. Even with two lifejackets between you, the proximity of your bodies was electrifying. You could feel his strong thighs on either side of your hips, closing you in everytime you hit a bump, securing you in place. You wondered if he was doing it on purpose or if it was just his instinct, you didn’t know which was hotter.

The water rushed behind you, a foamy wake marking your path as you continued driving as fast as you could. The others must’ve gone a different way out of the marina, because they were nowhere in sight. The sky was darkening slightly, the shift in weather causing most boats to drive the opposite way, back to the docks. But you just kept going, and Rafe didn’t tell you to turn around, both drunk on the adrenaline of the speed and the feeling of each other’s skin.

After a particularly jostling bump, the engine sputtered slightly.

“Fuck, what was that?” You puzzled, turning the throttle harder but gaining no speed.

“Here, you gotta twist it like this,” Rafe’s arms wrapped around you, his hands covering yours as he guided you to turn the throttle in the exact way you just were.

“That’s exactly what I was doing,” you bickered. “It’s not working.”

“Maybe I should drive?”

“It’s not my driving, something’s wrong with the jet ski,” you argued, swatting his hands away. 

“Can you just let me try?” He argued back.

“No, you’re making it worse!” 

The engine continued to sputter until it cut completely, causing both your bodies to lunge forward as it came to an abrupt halt.

“Rafe what did you do?” You accused him.

“What did I do? You wouldn’t even let me touch it!” He snapped.

You turned the key in the ignition over and over. The jet ski growled a few times but never started back up. Eventually, you gave up with a frustrated huff.

“I think we’re out of gas,” you conceded.

“Well, did you ask the guy if it was filled before you left?” Rafe questioned.

“Oh, so now this is my fault?” You craned your neck to see him, anger in your eyes.

“No, that’s not-”

“I’m so tired of this, Rafe.”

“We’ve only been out here for like a minute.”

“No, not this,” you motioned toward the water, “this,” you motioned between you and him.

“Oh. Me?” He tried and failed to hide his hurt feelings.

“Not you, just, all this back and forth. One second we’re having a good time and the next you’re pulling away or snapping at me. I have fucking whiplash.”

“Are you sure it’s not just from the jet ski?” He attempted a joke, it only half worked.

“How are we gonna get back?” You redirected the conversation before he could see you were smirking.

“A boat will come by,” he said confidently. “We’ll be fine.”

No boats came by in the following minute, or the following five. You sat in tense silence, your previous words still hanging between you. Your head hurt from the wind and trying to figure this man out.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, almost inaudible. “I know I’m…difficult.”

You turned your neck, not quite far enough to see him, but enough to let him know you were listening, that he should go on.

“I don’t know how to act around you,” he admitted. “One second I feel like I’ve fucked it up so bad that there’s not even a point in trying to fix it and the next…”

This time, you do turn, twisting your torso so you could look him intently in the eyes, imploring him to say something right for once, begging him not to let you fall off this cliff alone again.

“…you look at me like that,” he almost whispered. “And then I think fuck it, I’d try forever if you let me.”

For the first time ever, he was with you on the way down, finally jumping together.

“Can I?” He asked, voice low.

“Can you what?” you blinked at him slowly, the moment so surreal you worried it wasn’t happening, that you’d wake up in Carter’s bed, all of this day just one long fever dream.

“Fix things…with you?”

“I don’t know.”

It was the most honest answer you could give him.

“Can I try?” His voice broke slightly when he said it, and you could feel the vulnerability leaking through the cracks.

“Yeah,” you gave in.

“I miss you,” he breathed, and your heart felt heavy with longing and resentment at the same time.

“I don’t think you ever really knew me, Rafe,” you said, turning to face forward again, sad eyes scanning the horizon. “You never paid close enough attention.”

He thought over your words, and you could feel that there was something brewing in his mind, a decision he was making. When he finally spoke again, it wasn’t the words you expected.

“What’s your favorite color?”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as you said, “huh?”

“Just tell me,” he smiled back, even though you weren’t looking, you could hear it in his voice.

You answered him, and he followed that question up with another, and another, and they kept rolling off his tongue and you kept answering, until the strangeness of it faded and the two of you were just talking.

For over an hour, you drifted, leaning forward on the handlebars with your back to him as Rafe asked you questions and listened intently to your long, detailed answers. You were hesitant, just at first. No one had ever let you talk this long without interrupting you. No one had ever wanted so badly to hear what you had to say. He nodded along to everything, responding with thoughtful mhms and carefully worded follow up questions.

After a while, you forgot about the surrealness of it all, where you were, who you were with. It was just you and your old friend, sharing your lives with each other. 

I could do this for a long time, you thought, like maybe forever.

Everytime you thought he must be bored by now, he just kept asking, hanging on every word like he was collecting them for some secret project.

“What do you want to do after you graduate?” and “Who’s your closest friend?” and “Are you still into that one band?” and eventually, when he was running low on ideas, “what’s the last movie you saw?”

You laughed. 

“What?” He asked with a timidness that squeezed your heart.

“The last movie I saw was the last movie you saw,” you reminded him.

“Oh, right,” he chuckled, but there was an edge to it.

“It’s a good movie, though,” you leaned back toward him a little, trying to pull him from whatever thoughts were causing his spirit to fall. “My favorite.”

He nodded, “Tom did a nice job putting together that little shindig.”

“I guess so,” you said, not sure how to proceed.

“You know he plays football for U of F?” He said. “Or did I guess, before he graduated.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, he was All American,” he nodded. You’d give all the money you had for one glimpse of what was going on in his head.

“He’s an impressive guy,” he admitted. “I can see why you’d end up in his room.”

“Rafe, oh my god,” you huffed, standing suddenly. Your body rose above him, his eyes tracking every movement. You swung your leg over the seat, flipping around so you were facing him, sitting back down so you could look him in the eyes when you said, “I didn’t sleep in Tom’s room.”

“Oh.”

It was all he could muster up, his throat going dry from both the embarrassment he felt for being wrong and the sudden proximity of your bodies. He willed himself not to let his eyes travel down to the way your lifejacket was pushing your chest together, or the soft skin of your bare thighs, now spread open in front of him as you straddled the seat. He kept his eyes on yours, the most respectful option, though it didn’t help his speechlessness. The uninterrupted contact with your beautiful irises nearly put him over the edge. He almost hoped no boats would come by after all so he could look into your eyes for hours.

“Is that why you got up and left last night?” You questioned, not missing the way his eyes were trained intensely on yours.

“The floor was uncomfortable,” he mumbled.

“The floor,” you nodded, “the floor was uncomfortable. Got it.”

“You're mad at me again,” he surmised.

“When was I ever not mad at you?” 

“I dunno,” he shrugged sarcastically, “somewhere between the movie and your panties hitting the floor.”

You wanted to slap him. And kiss him. He could tell, teasing you with a sideways smirk. You tried to channel the newfound confidence you’d had last night, addicted to the taste of power.

You leaned forward, hands on the leather seat between you, looking up at him with hooded eyes.

“Did you like that?” 

“You know I did.” 

He responded so fast and his voice was so low you couldn’t tell if he was pissed off or turned on. Either way, he wasn’t fucking around anymore.

“Then why didn’t you stay?” 

It felt like that one question held so many questions, and based on the look on his face, you knew he could hear it too. You weren’t just asking about last night, you weren’t just asking why he went to sleep on the couch. You were asking about years of him coming up short, why he’d failed you so many times, why he never, ever seemed to pick you.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to.”

As he said it, the wind kicked up, and the jet ski began to rock even harder as waves rose and fell beneath you. One particularly choppy wave had you tilting a little too far off the seat, and Rafe’s hands landed on your waist again. This time, there was nothing hesitant about it. When you didn’t push him away, his thumb brushed an experimental circle into your skin.

“Do you want me to let go?”

In lieu of answering, your hands came to rest over his. He assumed you were gonna pull them off of you, and for a moment you thought you might too, but then his words echoed in your mind: he didn’t know you wanted him to.

You could do this. You could lean into it and just let it happen. You were supposed to fight it, make him grovel more, make him pay you back for the years you’d waited. It’s what everyone expected. You were only a few hundred yards off shore, but the rest of the world felt lightyears away, and out here, there was nothing stopping you letting him touch you, kiss you, have you. You could just let it happen, and no one would have to know.

But before you could decide if you wanted to, a deep rumble of thunder broke out across the sky.

“Shit,” you jumped. 

“We gotta get out of here,” Rafe looked up at the darkening sky nervously.

“But how?” 

“How well can you swim?”

That’s how Rafe ended up in the water, gripping the back of the jet ski as the waves rocked it harshly, water splashing up and landing on your feet. You tightened your lifejacket, feeling apprehensive about the whole thing.

“I can just push us if you want to stay on,” Rafe offered.

“No, it’ll go faster if it’s both of us.”

You stepped to the edge, hesitating, wanting to rip the bandaid and just jump in but not wanting to jump too far off and get separated. Your indecision cost you, your foot slipped and you dropped into the water, your leg scraping against the edge of the jet ski as you fell. 

Blinded by pain, you reached for Rafe as your head slipped under the surface, but your hands came up empty.

(Chapter 6: part one)

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a/n: please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕

[kurooh]

thinking about the puckered scar running down the side of keigo’s face and neck . . i bet it’s real sensitive.

“baby, stop it,” he shudders, wings rustling behind him as he scoots away from you.

“whattt?” you feign innocence, reaching out towards him. he’s rolled away from you, not wanting to cuddle any more because you started to kiss at his scarred skin. “just appreciating your battle scars, kei.”

“well, don’t,” keigo huffs, missing your warmth so much that he starts inching closer to you. “you can look, but you can’t touch.”

“fine, fine,” you say dismissively, nuzzling into his chest and cuddling close to him. his arms wrap around you protectively, fingertips lightly stroking your back. just as keigo closes his eyes to get back to relaxing, he feels your head shift, cheek brushing along the scar on his neck.

he can’t help but squirm against you, wings flapping. “what did i say about touching it?” but there’s a certain weakness in his voice, and he knows he’s done for when you catch on.

“was an accident,” you assure him, tucking your face into his neck and taking in the scent of his soap. it’s something soft yet masculine, so familiar that you can even smell it when he’s not there.

keigo can feel you breathing against the scar; the puckered skin is highly sensitive, sending goosebumps down every inch of his body from even a featherlight touch. when you touch him there, it is pleasurable—but he’s worried you’ll take advantage of it, nipping at his neck or something in a public place.

messing with his wings or that scar would elicit the same reaction that grabbing him through his pants would.

“it suits you well, makes you look extra tough,” keigo’s lost in thought, registering the sound of your cheeky voice seconds before your lips press against the rough skin. he jolts against you. “i know, i know, i won’t touch it anymore.”

as you pull your lips back, keigo feels the tip of your tongue drag against him; he bites down hard on his lower lip, releasing an embarrassing moan.

“what was that?”

“what was what?” and he buries his face in your shoulder so you can’t turn around to see his rapidly flushing cheeks. “that noise outside? a bird must’ve hit a window.”

“now, you know damn well, keigo,” and your voice lilts, becoming teasing. “was that simply because of a little kiss?”

you punctuate your words with a gentle, open mouthed kiss to the scar. he responds with a shaky breath and pulls you impossibly closer.

“so you like that? i knew you were sensitive there, but i didn’t know it was like your wings..”

“only if you mess around there every now and then. don’t desensitize it.”

“i’ll try,” and your teeth sink into the skin; his eyes roll back into his head and he chokes out a gasp. he’s totally in for it—he can’t tell if having such a sensitive body is a blessing or a curse. your hand slips from his shoulder blade and into the mess of vermillion feathers covering the spot where his wings connect to his back.

“don’t—”

but it’s too late; your fingernails lightly scratch along the skin, and he groans something into your neck. you feel a wetness in his boxers, right against your thigh.

“did you just—?”

keigo’s too ashamed to answer, and mumbles something incoherent into your neck instead.

[mondaymelon]

₊⊹ "𝐰-𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭!? " | childe, kaeya, heizou, lyney x gn!reader

ㅤ⤷ art cr

— it's time for revenge : teasing the teasing boys back.

󠀠󠀠ㅤ⤷ DARLINNGGG, GUESS WHOS BACK FROM JAILLLLL ... gn reader, but use of adj "pretty", est. relationship childe + heizou , alcohol 󠀠󠀠and suggestive mentions in kaeya's, fluff

— ...aka , flirting back makes them malfunction. ♥

"Darling, you're so pretty today~!"

There he is — that sly little shit you call so fondly by name. Childe snakes his arms firmly around your torso, snuggling into you from behind.

It doesn't take a genius to guess he's grinning like an idiot.

(Your idiot.)

"Hm? I don't think I heard you right, say it one more time?" Glancing back at him with a cheeky smile, you hear the rumble of his laughter.

The harbinger presses a sneaky, little sideways kiss against the base of your neck, tufts of his hair tickling your jaw. "You're seriously too kissable today. Totally unfair."

He's so stupidly in love that you can't help but tease him, just a little. Changing positions, you turn around to cup the man's face. "Well, if I'm that kissable today, I guess I'll just have to keep that look going, won't I? Shall we test how fair it really is?"

There's a beat of silence. You count six seconds before he even begins to utter a choked little: "...H-huh...?"

He's so red-faced you almost feel bad. His skin is growing warmer to the touch, and he shifts his eyes, suddenly becoming a whole lot less bold than usual. Trembling slightly, he brings up a hand to hide behind, his now-meek voice reaching you.

"H-hey, who taught you that...?"

"Ah? Speak up, I can't hear you~"

"...You- You know exactly what you're doing to my heart, don't you?" He looks at you accusingly, guiding one of your hands to his chest, burying it in the fabric of his clothes. "Archons, it's beating so fast-"

"This can't be healthy, so hurry up and cure me."

"Cure?"

"..1000 kisses should fix me right up."

"To meet you once more, isn't this fate?"

Eyes that contain galaxies — and you, raise to meet yours. Kaeya smiles in a smile that's all mirth, raising a glass to let it briefly shine in the light. He stands as you enter Angel's Share, pulling back a stool at the counter.

...He wasn't a stalker, was he? This hadn't been the first time you'd met, nor the second, nor third — you'd seen this archon-forsaken man a total of seven times. Each time, the two of you had shared a drink, which always started with "ah, just one today" to you, face flushed, leaning onto the counter and spilling whatever was on your mind that day in its entirety to the man who sat beside you, listening with the occasional chuckle.

Well, it wasn't as if you found the idea of "fate" and "Kaeya" unappealing.

"I suppose that wouldn't be unbelievable." You shrug as you take your seat. "Since I've been fortunate enough to encounter you again, drinks are on me."

"My, how generous." Kaeya gestures toward his empty glass shamelessly, resting his chin on his hand leisurely. "I think I'll take you up on that offer."

You beckon Charles closer, briefly whispering something in the man's ear. The bartender nods, walking off.

"How interesting, Charles seems to be mixing two drinks. A classic choice of wine, and your favorite..." A foxy grin stretches across the man's lips. "To think you've memorized my order. Should I write you off as someone staring at me nonstop or merely attentive?"

That smooth talker, with that insufferably charming smile — surely it was time for a little revenge?

"I'd prefer the former, but think what you want."

"Oh? I'm that handsome?" (Is it the dim lighting that makes Kaeya's face seem a little more red than usual? )

"You are."

You state it blatantly, as it is. As if Kaeya weren't expecting such a blunt answer, he suddenly clams up, coughing into his fist in a terribly not nonchalant manner. "You... don't tell me, have you already been drinking? What's with you today?"

"What, is speaking the truth suddenly such a surprise?"

"...You said all drinks were on you, yeah?"

Changing the topic? "Mhm, whatever you want."

It's hard to miss the way Kaeya's gaze burns.

"Then, round two at my place?"

"You're way too distracting, how am I supposed to get any work done when all I want to do is kiss you?"

And there it is, Heizou's twenty-second kiss of the day, this time pressed lightly on the bridge of your nose. Here you were, expecting the cool-headed man to be able to hold himself back during detective work.

You'd expected far too much.

"Heizou, you're the one who agreed to me accompanying you. No use in complaining now."

"Ah, that's where you're mistaken, love! Complaints are perfect excuses for kisses, you know." The twenty-third, on your left cheek, and the twenty-fourth, on the other.

"Heizou."

He tilts his head upwards, staring at you cheekily. "Hm?"

"Revenge." You cup his face. His pink cheeks are squishy, and you resist the urge to pinch them.

"...Pardo-"

You kiss him on the lips.

Heizou makes a noise of surprise, slightly jumping under your touch. He quivers for a moment, then goes stock still.

Seems like you've stumped the detective.

One kiss is all it took.

As you pull away, you're able to witness the absolute mess you've created. The Shikanoin Heizou's at an utter loss for words, his lips parted but words long gone. His cheeks, the tips of his ears, the back of his neck; he's so red-faced you can't help but laugh.

"My, that's all it took to render you speechless?"

There's a twinkle in his spring-green eyes as he gazes at you, shaking his head slyly. "Nope-! Not rendered speechless just yet- although..."

"...One hundred more kisses might do the trick?"

"A pretty flower for the prettiest of them all, mon chéri~"

A rainbow rose drawn from a sleeve, a pair of sly amethyst eyes, a cattish smile, and a smooth voice: Lyney greets you — or more so catches and stops you on the road. Something of a highway robbery, except this "thief" is more skilled in capturing hearts than valuables.

His hand snags onto your forearm, making no move to let go. "You player, don't tell me you say this to any pretty face that passes by?"

At the raise of your brow, Lyney feigns hurt. "You wound me, to assume such a thing... just how little trust you have for me?"

"Admittedly not a lot, Sir..." You scan him up and down with a scrutinizing gaze; You were sure you had seen the guy somewhere before. "...Magician?"

"Lyney."

"...Lyney, considering you've stopped me on the side of the road, it'd be daring to even call us acquaintances, no?"

"Acquaintances..." Lyney ponders the thought like it's enjoyable. "I can work with that~ Since we've been acquainted, won't you take the rose already?"

Partly due to his insistence, and partly due to pity, you accept the flower from his hold, not failing to notice the way his eyes twinkle. "Say," he begins, moving his hands back to his sides. "Do you happen to know what roses mean in the language of the flowers?"

You blink at him, rather unamused. "Sorry to disappoint, but I can't speak to plants."

Lyney, unexpectedly, grows silent. You see his cheeks puff outward, attempting to suppress a laugh. "I see," he speaks, breathily, like he is midway between a laugh and a word. "Love, beauty, perfection, wouldn't you say it fits you wonderfully?"

"...You have my thanks?"

Lyney's eyes are the shape of almonds, and when he smiles, the edges of them crinkle. "Not much of a charmer, are you?"

Is that a challenge?

"Then," you drop your voice a pitch lower, straightening your shoulders. "You have my thanks, mon beau." Combo attack: winking and blowing a kiss, you depart the scene as soon as possible for added mystery.

(You had a feeling this wouldn't be the last time you saw him.)

Now standing alone on the side of the street, eyes wide, finger playing with his side-swept bangs, utterly speechless and red-faced, Lyney's heart raced like it was to leap out of his chest.

"...Haha, what sort of magic is this?"

(a/n) this has been in drafts since like,, janurary. SOBBING.

look out for an announcement in a lil bit ^^

tags :

@manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @falors, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader,@fiannee, @aether-darling, @ceneid, @avensuersa, @solxima

[theworldgate]

I have to explain what is going on in the UK, because it is absurd.

So, this is Gary Lineker:

He's known for a fair few things over here. He was a very good (association) footballer, playing for England in the 1986 and 1990 World Cups, winning the Golden Boot in 1986, and managing to never get a single yellow card in his playing career. He played for Leicester City, Everton, Barcelona, and Tottenham, before finishing his career in Japan. But if you aren't in your mid 30s, you probably know actually know him him for a couple of other things. The first is the role of spokesman for another Leicester icon, Walkers Crisps (which are sort of equivalent to Lays, but hit different), as pictured above. Despite being a notably clean player, he used to play a cheeky serial crisp thief. I don't think he's done that for well over a decade, but his ads were on the telly a lot when I was a kid and it's a bit like learning that the hamburglar was an incredibly clean (American) football player or something.

The second thing Gary is widely known for is having presented Match of the Day, the big football program on the BBC, the sort-of state broadcaster, since 1999. He is, incidentally, very well paid for this (though with a consensus that he could get even more if he went to one of the non-free-to-view broadcasters because he is very good at the job). He also has a twitter account. And political opinions. So, the UK government has got itself dead set upon doing heinous stuff that will totally somehow work to prevent people who want to come to the UK making the perilous crossing of the Channel (between England and France). By heinous, I mean "openly advertise that they won't attempt to protect victims of modern slavery" stuff. It's very obviously using a legal hammer to victimise a marginalised group of people in order to win votes. And, uh, I should clarify that by "legal" I mean "using the passage of laws" - the policy is, in addition to all the other ways it's awful, probably incompatible with the Human Rights Act and the UK's international law obligations. Gary, top lad that he is, objected to this. On Tuesday 7th March, he made a quote Tweet of a video of the Home Secretary, Suella Braverman, bigging up the policy, he wrote "Good heavens, this is beyond awful.". This got a bunch of backlash from extremely right-wingers, and then he made the tweet that really got him in trouble (with right-wingers): "There is no huge influx. We take far fewer refugees than other major European countries. This is just an immeasurably cruel policy directed at the most vulnerable people in language that is not dissimilar to that used by Germany in the 30s, and I’m out of order?".

Now, I am not actually subjecting myself to watching a video of Suella Braverman bigging up a cruel policy to say whether the specific comparison of the language to 1930s Germany is accurate. But needless to say, Ms Braverman was amongst the many figures on the right of UK politics objecting to Gary's rhetoric. And here's the part where a fact about the BBC comes in: it is nominally neutral and impartial (and so, of course, is routinely accused of bias from all sides but particularly the right-wing), and has something of a code for its contributors to this effect. Now, that code has previously been applied to Gary Lineker, over a comment about whether governing Conservative Party would hand back donations from figures linked to the Russian regime. But it generally hasn't been applied too strongly to people like Gary, whose roles have nothing to do with politics (such as presenting a "here's what happened on the footie today" show), on the basis that, well, their roles have nothing to do with politics. However, when directly asked about whether the BBC should punish Gary Lineker for his tweets, government figures basically went "well, that's a them problem". But a couple of days passed, and it seemed like Gary's approach of "standing his ground because he did nothing wrong" was working and everything would die down. He was set to get 'a talking to' but not much more than that. The Conservative right, after all their fire and fury earlier, had gotten bored and moved onto something else. And then, on Friday 10th March, the BBC announced that he would be suspended from hosting Match of the Day this weekend. But it could still go ahead, because there are, like, other hosts! Except, well, funnily enough, when you take a beloved figure off air, for making a fairly anodyne tweet, no one wants to be the scab who actually takes up the role of replacing him. Gary's two co-hosts, Alan Shearer and Ian Wright, said that they would not appear without him. People who (co-)host Match of the Day on other days followed suit. The net result is that Match of the Day is currently set to air without hosts, BBC commentary, or global feed commentary. And the solidarity shown to Gary Lineker, over what is very flagrantly actual cancel culture and an attack on freedom of speech (the logic implied is that institutional impartiality requires that no one say anything too critical of the government ever), has continued to grow. The BBC has pretty much been unable to run pretty much any live sports content today, and has resorted to raiding the BBC Sounds archive to fill the sports radio channel. And, as of 17:30 on Saturday 11th March, the situation shows no signs of improvement, though some are calling for the Chairman Richard Sharp, who is separately facing corruption allegations, to resign (yes I linked to the BBC itself there, there is nothing, nothing, the BBC loves more than going into great detail about how much the BBC sucks).

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

hiii <33

first i want to say that i absolutely ADORE your page on here, your writing is just wow, perfection!! i really liked your sirius story (even tho i strayed off a bit and started liking rabastan too ahahahah-) it's amazing omg

and i was wondering would you be up for writing for barty? anything with him honestly lol, but if you don't have any ideas feel free to ignore this!

SAY LESSSSSSS (I've been dying for someone to request Barty or rosekiller pls send all the requests). Also! so glad you enjoyed that fic! (I played myself and kinda fell for Rab too 😬)

I Wanna Be Yours | BCJ

feat. Barty Crouch Jr. x blackcat!reader

SUMMARY: Barty is determined to win your affection, but due to his larger-than-life personality and your aloof nature, you find it difficult to trust his intentions.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, pov switches once, a little angst and a little fluff, blackcat!reader, artist!Barty, only soft for each other, mentions of drinking and drug use, strong language, sort of insecure!reader, Barty is a giant simp

AN: i'm having my scene music renaissance, and something about that era is so Barty-coded. I have a few other songs that suit him in my mind, but I'd love to hear any ideas you guys might have!

masterlist

“Honestly, I don't know what Slughorn’s problem is. If I want to make a love potion that makes Xeno hard for four days, I can—”

“Four days and I would die of deprivation,” Xenophilius chuckled, his arm draped over Pandora's shoulders.

“Sure, but what a way to go.”

You walked beside them, half-listening to their sugar-dipped conversation, equal parts disgusted and deeply jealous. You'd never admit it, but you so badly wanted what your best friend had. Devotion, affection, complete and total acceptance. But you walked through life like a spring-loaded trap, biting the fingers off anyone that dared come close.

“Should we grab dinner before heading to the library? I'm starved,” Pandora said, turning her attention to you.

“Sure, it's probably quiet this early anyways—”

“Going to dinner, are we?” Evan bound up between Xeno and Pandora, throwing his arms over their shoulders. “I'm fucking ravenous.”

Two arms looped around your waist, hauling you back into a solid chest. The familiar scent of clove cigarettes and paint enveloped you, as if you needed any clues to know exactly who had the audacity to handle you so boldy.

“As am I,” Barty purred against the shell of your ear.

You wriggled in his hold, slapping at his forearms until he released you. “Not in the mood, Junior,” you warned, ignoring the way your stomach flipped when you met his dark eyes, eyeliner smudged along his lashes.

“Aw, don't be cross, gorgeous. You looked like you needed a hug,” he teased, falling into step between you and Pandora, slowing his natural gait considerably. He snatched your books from your arms, ignoring your protest and cradling them against his chest. He was dressed in a white dress shirt and a Slytherin vest, his tie loose and sleeves pushed up, hand-poked tattoos sprawling and dark against his forearms.

“I'm fairly certain she needs a hug as much as she needs your dumbass in her space,” Pandora said, rolling her eyes. “Which is not at all.”

“Oh, she needs me.” Barty grinned. “She just doesn't know it yet.”

“Give it a rest, Crouch,” Xeno cut in. “Keep pushing her and you'll end up on the bottom of the Black Lake.”

“Oh, how exciting! How will you do it, treasure? Stabbing? Maiming? Choking? Oh Merlin’s fuck, please say choking—”

“Maiming sounds about right,” you bit, attempting to get your books back, but he was far too tall, holding them way above your head. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction of jumping for it, and crossed your arms over your chest with a huff.

“You can maim me whenever you like,” he said, a cheeky smirk on his stupid, handsome face. “Will you do it now if I ask nicely?”

You ignored him, looking forward again.

Barty Crouch Jr. loved nothing more than fucking with you, finding the gaps in your armor and trying to pry them open. But no matter how attractive you found him, because saints was he attractive, or how endearing he could be in the in-between moments, you refused to play his game.

You would not be made a fool of, not like every other person he set his sights on and got bored with a week later.

“So are we eating or what?” Evan asked, walking backwards at the front of the group. Any student unfortunate enough to be in his path quickly scurried out of it, cowed by the Slytherin's reputation for retaliation.

You watched them shrink away from Barty too, who clearly got some sick sense of pleasure from it. He even bared his teeth at a Gryffindor that veered to close to you, flipping your bodies around so he was on the outside and you were next to Pandora again.

“I'm actually going to head back to the dorm,” you said, slowing so you fell out of line with them. “See you later?” You said to Pandora, who gave you a tight frown.

“Are you sure?” She asked, tilting her head like an avian.

“Yeah, you guys enjoy,” you said, pretending you didn't see the disappointment flash across Barty’s face as you turned on your heel, letting the opposite flow of students sweep you up and away from your friends.

The truth was, Barty scared the shit out of you. He was everything you weren't: outgoing, bold, rebellious, and just charming enough to get himself out of whatever mess he and Evan made. And for whatever reason, he was obsessed with pushing your buttons. And he did, with infuriating efficiency.

Pandora insisted it was all in good fun, that he was harmless, but you knew better. You saw the way he manipulated others to get what he wanted, the way he masked his calculation with charisma.

Barty Crouch Jr. was far from harmless, and even if he had his friends fooled, he would not fool you.

Barty's POV

Barty watched your head bob away through the crowded corridor, your books still heavy in his arms and guilt gnawing a hole in his chest.

Why couldn't he just fucking control himself? He felt like a noxious ball of energy, filling whatever available space he could, unable to contain his own impulses, a slave to his own existence.

He just wanted you so badly. You occupied every part of his mind, owned every thump of his wretched, ruined heart. He was irrevocably, intrinsically yours, but you couldn't stand him, and it was largely his own damn fault.

Because he was broken. Couldn't hold a normal conversation. Couldn't flirt in a way that wasn't deeply vulnerable, or obscene and intense. For Merlin’s sake, he'd begged you to choke him just now.

You were a fix he couldn't get, so he was suffering withdrawals from a drug he never had. He was going mad with it, the desperation for your attention. He would do anything to hear you say his name, to occupy an ounce of space in that beautiful brain, even if meant looking like an idiot. Like a psycho.

It was worth it just to have you look.

After dinner, the four of them returned to the Slytherin common room, Barty still carrying your books with a wrapped bundle on top. Every step towards your shared dorm with Pandora made his heart beat faster, a nervous sweat collecting along his spine.

Nothing made him nervous like you did.

Barty walked into the room last, his eyes immediately drifting towards your bed even though he tried to resist. You were curled up against a pile of pillows, surrounded by parchment and open books, your quill scribbling furiously across the page in your lap.

You glanced up when they entered, meeting his eyes for a split second, low-lidded and disinterested, per usual, and turned your attention back to your work.

The dismissal itched like a bug under his skin, his blood going hot and tingly. He needed you to look at him again.

He set your books on your desk and kicked off his shoes, flopping onto your bed before he really thought about it. It was softer than his, covered with quilts and pillows, and he noticed a little stuffed cat tucked away under your covers. He could smell you all around him, so sweet and warm, and whatever rationality he had left dissolved into goo.

“Who invited you?” You snapped, shoving at his shoulder with little success. A swell of affection at your pitiful attempt made his heart beat quicken, you were just so fucking cute.

He set the paper bundle on your chest. “Thought you might be hungry, sweetness,” he said, hugging one of your pillows to his chest.

Merlin, you were so beautiful when you glared at him like that. He filed the image away for later, mentally sifting through his paint collection for the perfect shade to match your pout.

You looked a bit perplexed at the package, almost angry, and his anxiety returned, fighting through the haze caused by your proximity. “You brought me food?”

He nodded, biting back ‘and dessert too’. He wanted you to actually eat the food, not throw it at his head.

Hesitantly, you unfolded the bundle, as if he'd given you something rotten, or was pulling a prank. It made his lungs squeeze with guilt. He was shitty to a lot of people, most people. But not to you, never you.

Your brow softened with relief when you realized it was just a sandwich, before quickly furrowing again. He wanted to smooth it with his lips, kiss you until it never creased with worry again.

“I'm not hungry,” you said, setting the bag on the side table. A twinge of hurt stabbed between his ribs, but didn't let his smile falter. He knew that's what you would say. And he also knew you would eat it later, when no one was around to see you accept a small gesture of kindness.

That was good enough for him.

You slid out of your bed, leaving his side cold, and he stretched out against your sheets, wallowing in your residual warmth like a niffler in a pile of gold.

The others chatted around you, Xeno lighting up a joint by the cracked window, but you sat down at your desk, turning back to your work and tuning them out.

Barty sighed, letting his eyes flutter closed so he could pretend he was wrapped in you body instead of your sheets, his nose buried into your hair instead of your pillow.

Reader's POV

You and Pandora walked arm in arm into the library, chatting about the idiots in your Transfiguration class. You were headed to your usual spot at the back of library, a collection of over stuffed chairs by a stained glass window overlooking the Forbidden Forest, and stopped short when you saw Regulus, Evan, and Barty already there.

Barty was reclined in the window, his long legs propped up against the other side, a sketchbook in his lap, quill between his teeth.

“Excuse the hell out of me,” Pandora said, startling them all from their abnormal quiet.

Barty's head snapped up, his eyes immediately landing on you, and he about fell out of the window.

“What? Like you own this table?” Evan drawled, not looking up from his book,his expensive loafers propped up on the table.

“Yes,” Pandora shot back, dropping down beside him and pulling out her books with clear agitation. "So if you're staying, keep your mouth shut."

Evan mimed zipping his lips and crossed his heart. Barty just turned back to his sketchbook instead of sauntering over to you with some cheeky quip on his tongue.

A prickle of uncertainty climbed your neck. Perhaps you really had upset him about that sandwich. You wish you hadn't said you were hungry as soon as it came out of your mouth, but you were too proud to apologize. You were so stunned by the gesture, so overwhelmed by his body pressed against you, his warmth mixing with yours, that you clammed up. Shut him down.

But even now, you couldn't bring yourself to approach him and apologize. Thank him. So, you sat down beside Regulus, the only other member of the group you found tolerable most of the time, and he greeted you with a dip of his chin.

You pulled out your work, determined to pretend Barty wasn't there at all.

Of course, you failed. Your eye kept wandering back to him, his sharp jaw silhouetted by the light, his pierced brow furrowed in concentration as his hand moved across the page, silver rings adorning ink stained fingers. He was dressed down today, jeans and Slytherin sweater, the collar of his shirt underneath it crooked.

After an hour or so of quiet, he dozed off, his head lolled against the window, quill dangling loosely in his fingers. Barty did that a lot, slept in unusual places at unusual times when the quiet dragged on a little too long. Evan mentioned once that Barty struggled to sleep at night, insomnia or something, and even the draughts Madam Pomfry made him only worked sometimes.

Unable to quell your curiosity, you got up to retrieve another book, brushing past him and sparing a glance down at his sketchbook. Your own face stared back at you, framed with rough sketches of your hands, your eyes, the bow of your lips.

Your heart gave a painful lurch, a burst of affection making your bones soften, and you nearly stumbled over the carpet, catching yourself on the bookshelf at the last second.

You hurried down another row, praying none of your friends saw you, and braced yourself against the shelf.

Did Barty like you? Like, actually like you? You couldn't fathom it. It didn't make sense. You weren't kind to him, or outgoing, or special. He was all of those things and more, the most fascinating, maddening, all-consuming person you'd ever met in your life.

Surely, he didn't see all of those things in you? But why would he draw you if he didn't see something of interest? Something he liked?

Fuck, you couldn't breathe in this stuffy library. You needed air.

You steeled yourself and walked back to the table, collecting your things.

“Something wrong, y/n?” Regulus asked, always too perceptive, and Barty stirred, picking his head up from the wall to peer at you through drowsy eyes.

“Nothing, I—”

Barty slid off the window and you lost your train of thought, heat scorching your cheeks. “Rushing off to hang out with your more interesting friends?” Barty asked, his voice a little gruff from his brief nap.

“More interesting friends? Not at Hogwarts,” Evan chuckled. “We're as interesting as it gets.”

“If you're bored, babygirl, all you had to was say so,” Barty hummed, striding up to you.

You placed a hand on his sternum to stop him from coming any closer, ignoring the flare of heat that accompanied the contact. “You were asleep five seconds ago,” you argued.

“Asleep and dreaming of all the ways I could keep you entertained.” He grinned, wicked and sharp, and the simmering heat spread to your lower belly, your heart beating fast.

“What are you, a fucking court jester?” You bit, unable to stop your arm bending as he pushed closer, the smell of ink and his cologne making your mouth water.

“I'm whatever you want me to be,” he flirted, and Regulus and Pandora groaned in unison.

“Will you leave her the fuck alone?” Regulus snapped, tugging Barty back by a belt loop. “She's not interested in your act, Junior.”

“Act?” Barty quirked a brow. “I’m dead serious.”

“Don't talk about his brother that way!” Evan shouted, far too excited to make the over-used joke once again, and you rolled your eyes. Apparently, the rare quiet time had come to an end.

“I don't give a fuck about his brother!”

“I don't give a fuck about you!”

“Oh, so you're a bitch and a liar?”

“I'm not a bitch, you cunt!”

“I'll see you guys at the party later,” you said, using their bickering as your window of escape. You all but fled the library, desperate for some fresh air and clarity.

If Barty sincerely liked you…did that change anything? Was there a way to know for sure how he felt? You didn't even know how you felt, not really. You'd never let yourself really consider it for fear of inevitable disappointment.

Sure, you found him attractive, everyone did. And yes, despite yourself you thought he was funny and sweet, in his own, odd way. And he was especially sweet to you. He never brought your other friends food, or waited for them after class, or snuggled in their beds. Well, besides Evan.

He didn't really touch anyone else either. But if you were close enough, as he often ensured you were, he was touching you whenever he could. Knocked together knees in the Great Hall, leaning on you during class no matter how many times you shoved him off, throwing his arms over your shoulder when it was cold, wrapping his pinky around yours in a particularly crowded hall.

Yes, his words were often obnoxious and bordering on insane, but his actions…his actions were sincere, thoughtful, almost tender.

Was that the real Barty?

Maybe you had been fooled just like everyone else into thinking he was nothing more than a joker, a rowdy troublemaker, when the reality was so much deeper.

Had you been all wrong about him?

By the time you and Pandora left your dorm room to join the party, the common room was a madhouse. Green lights flashed in time with the thumping bass, bodies dancing and mingling in every available spot on the dancefloor, a haze of smoke and glitter over their heads.

You were wearing a black mini dress and heels, held together by string and a prayer. Your hair hung in loose waves down your back, your eyeliner sharp and lips painted. You knew you looked good, lethal in the best way, but all you could think about was Barty's reaction.

Would he like it? Hate it? Or even worse, not even notice?

Together, you and Pandora moved through the crowd towards your friends usual place at the far side of the common room.

Of course, you spotted Barty first. He was leaning against the bar, dressed in all black, tailored trousers and a sleeveless undershirt. Apparently he ditched his actual shirt before you arrived in favor of displaying his countless tattoos, most of them done by his own hand. His hair was dark with pomade and pushed off of his face, glitter clinging to the sweat along his lean chest and shoulders.

He looked like a wet fucking dream.

Xeno let out a low whistle when you and Pandora stepped out from the crowd, drawing Barty's attention from Evan and Dorcas.

His jaw dropped instantly and with a dramatic flourish, he pretended to faint into Evan's arms, clutching at his heart. Despite yourself, you giggled, and Pandora shot you a surprised look through a gap in her boyfriends embrace.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Barty gasped, sliding out of Evan's arms and onto his knees. “Look at—baby, look at you!”

You flushed under the attention, your blood heating as it raced through your veins, but you just rolled your eyes at him, a new confidence blooming in your chest. He loved it.

You strode over to the bar, closing his mouth with a finger, and leaned against the counter. “Firewhisky?” You asked the student bartending, and they stared back at you, dumbstruck, before rushing to collect your drink.

Barty leaned against your legs, his cheek against your thigh. “What are you doing to me?” He whined up at you, feeding into your surge of confidence.

You pushed his head away, tugging at the roots of his hair before releasing him, and he groaned, a low, panty-melting sound. “I'm not doing anything. You're just insufferable,” you chastised, accepting your drink.

“And you're beautiful,” he said, sounding almost reverent, and you nearly choked on your drink.

“Fuck off and drool on someone else, yeah?” You snapped, overwhelmed by his candor, even though it was exactly what you thought you wanted.

Fuck, you didn't know what you wanted. And even when you did, it seemed your subconscious wasn't always in agreement. You had wanted him to drool over you. He was literally on his knees, but some broken part of your brain couldn’t accept it. So you pushed him away.

“C’mon, you simpering mutt,” Evan said, hauling Barty up. “I think I saw a kegger over there.”

Barty started to protest, but Evan and Regulus dragged him away.

“You should have some mercy,” Xeno said, leaning on the bar beside you.

“Oh?” You raised a brow at him, taking a sip of whisky.

“Poor prick is besotted,” Dorcas supplied.

“He's full of shit,” you bit, that panicky feeling crawling up your spine.

Pandora shook her head, and your eyes widened. “It's true, I’ve never seen him so fucked up over someone before.”

“He's not the obsessive type. Not when it comes to dating, at least. He loses interest as often as he changes his underwear. But he's been stuck on you for months,” Dorcas said.

“Yeah, he usually obsesses over like quill tips, and arson—”

“You guys are serious?” You asked, cutting off Xeno. “You think he actually likes me?”

They all stare at you, dumbfounded.

“You can't tell?” Pandora asked, grabbing your face and shaking you. “Babe, he's absolutely gone for you.”

“Like, gone gone,” Dorcas added.

“But it's Barty, I mean—he’s never serious—”

“Exactly, that's what makes it so obvious!” Pandora cried, exasperated. “I thought you knew!”

“Why would you think that!” You shouted back.

“Because he says it constantly!” Your friends yell in unison.

“He was on his knees, y/n. Like literally on his knees,” Xeno said, shaking his head. “It doesn't get much more devoted than that.”

Devoted. It clicked then, the signs you'd been brushing off, refusing to see clearly because of your own veil of distrust. Because you didn’t allow yourself to accept the truth out of fear. Barty had been showing you for months how he felt, and not just in his words, in his actions. Bringing you food when you were hungry, walking you from class to class, meeting your barbs and verbal lashes with a smile.

He’d been wearing his heart on his sleeve this entire time, and all you’d done is punish him for it.

Oh, fuck. How could you be so blind?

You set your drink on the bar and pushed through your friends, ignoring their calls as you forced your way through the crowd, searching for Barty in the sea of green. You found him standing with Evan and few other members of the Quidditch team, cheering while a fifth year shotgunned a dandelion draught.

“Barty!” You shouted over the roar, grabbing his wrist.

He turned, his eyes widening in surprise. “Y/n? Are you alr—where are we going?”

You dragged him into a shadowed alcove, slightly hidden from the party. Your heart was pounding in your ears, tears already burning behind your eyes. “Be honest with me,” you said, forcing yourself to hold his gaze.

“Always,” he said automatically, brow heavy with uncertainty.

“How do you feel about me?” You asked.

Understanding dawned, and Barty's expression melted into something painfully soft, painfully sincere. “I just wanna be yours.”

The admission stole the air from your lungs, made your heart freeze in place. "M-mine?"

“Yours,” he breathed, his hands finding your waist, grip tight as desperation filled his eyes. “Please, let me be yours.” He lowered to his knees again, his head by your navel. “I promise—I promise I’ll be good, if you’ll just give me a chance too—”

You leaned down and grabbed the silver chain around his throat like a collar, dragging his mouth to yours in a fervid, frantic kiss. He surged upwards, lifting you into the air and crushing you between his body and the wall, forcing air out of your lungs. You wrapped your legs around his narrow hips as his tongue pried open your mouth, desperate to taste you. Desire pumped through you, scalding hot and more potent than the whisky, making your head spin, your skin tingle.

You tugged at his hair, drawing him closer, and he whimpered low in his throat. Your cunt clenched at the sound, your thoughts turning singular: make him beg. Your tongue traced his lips, tasting beer and cigarette smoke, and you sucked his lower lip between your teeth, biting hard before soothing it with your tongue.

His hips canted up into your core, his hands moving down to squeeze your ass beneath your dress and grind your core against him. You gasped, breaking the kiss for a moment, and he seized the opportunity to pillage your mouth again, licking at your teeth and the roof of your mouth.

“Your dorm,” you panted, yanking his head back by the roots of his hair.

He didn’t hesitate, throwing you up and over his shoulder in a startling feat of strength.

“Barty!” you squealed, giggling and slapping at his back while he carried you to the stairs, his hand keeping your dress in place so you didn’t flash anyone. He couldn’t have made it any more obvious what was happening, and you found that you didn’t care. If you were going to be with Barty, you were going to have to get used to being loved out loud.

“Look at her ass again, see what happens!” You heard him bark, his voice a rumble through his ribcage, and you rolled your eyes, smiling to yourself as he carried you up the stairs.

A moment later, you were being tossed roughly onto his bed, the door slamming shut with a muttered alohomora. Barty crawled up your body, his dark eyes flashing with a feral hunger that made your pussy purr, and he dove into your neck with his teeth and tongue, making you gasp and arch into his body, your whole body alight with pleasure.

“Easy, baby,” you cooed, petting his hair to try and settle his frantic affection. Poor thing couldn’t seem to control himself, so worked up he was rutting against your thigh. “I’m not going anywhere, darling, relax.”

He whined into your neck, clutching at the fat of your lovehandles. “Need you so bad,” he groaned. “M’sorry, can’t help myself.”

You rolled over him, straddling his hips with yours. “I know, love. Just sit still and be good for me, yeah?”

He nodded vigorously, watching you kiss down his body with heavy-lidded eyes. You pushed up the hem of his undershirt, licking a stripe between the valley of his abdomen muscles, admiring the tattoos you’d only gotten glimpses of.

“So pretty, Bat,” you purred, and felt his cock twitch against your chest, his head falling back against the pillows. “Been wanting me this whole time?”

“Yes, so badly—fuck, treasure, please—” he moaned when you grazed your teeth along his hipbone, sucking the skin into your mouth to leave a mark. His hand tangled in your hair, rings cool against your scalp, and you released his skin with a pop, admiring the plum-colored bruise left behind. “I’m getting that tattooed,” he panted, dragging a thumb over your spit slick lips. “Swear to Salazar.”

You giggled, shifting further down to undo his trousers and finding that he apparently skipped boxers. His cock sprung out to slap against this stomach, rigid and flushed, a bead of pearly precum dripping down to his navel. Gently, you traced a finger over the protruding veins along his shaft, admiring him.

Barty hissed through his teeth, his muscles tensing to keep still.

“Good boy,” you praised, wrapping your hand loosely around him, pumping once, twice without any real pressure. He was long and slightly curved, gorgeous, and you couldn’t resist dragging your tongue up the root of him, feeling the velvety texture against your lips.

“Fucking shit, you’re going to kill me.” His fingers tightened in your hair as you lapped at the head, savoring the salty taste of him.

You looked up at him through your lashes, his head thrown back, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths, every muscle flexed tight. Fighting for his life to hold still.

“Baby,” he whined when you stopped, picking up his head to look down at you.

“Say your mine,” you ordered, hovering just over his cock, holding his wild-eyed gaze.

“I’m yours. I’m so fucking yours.”

You smiled and wrapped your lips around him, swallowing down as much of him as you could manage and he cried out, rough and breathless with relief. You bobbed up and down on his length, tongue pressing against the root of his cock and using your hand to stroke what you couldn’t reach, and you watched his soul leave his body.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he chanted, using your hair to lift and lower you a little faster, his control starting to falter as you pulled him apart. “Bloody hell, you’re way too good at this. What the fuck—oh saints. Your mouth feels like fucking heaven.”

You hummed in response, letting him push you further down, gagging on his length before he released you and you pulled off of him to catch your breath, a trail of drool connecting your lips and his head.

Barty groaned. “Never mind, I’m getting that tattooed. Right on my fucking forehead so every time I look in the mirror—”

You climbed back up his body and draped yourself over him, silencing him with a sloppy kiss, his tongue laving across your lips to taste himself. “Do you ever stop talking?” you teased, kissing the corner of his mouth, his cheekbone, his temple.

In a quick movement, he flipped you beneath him. “There’s one sure-fire way to shut me up,” he purred against your ear before kissing and licking down your neck and chest. Every pass of his lips was electric, a bolt of pleasure straight your weeping pussy, swollen against your panties and desperate for attention. “This dress,” he murmured, tracing the swell of your breast with his tongue. “Wear it for anyone in particular?”

“I wanted to see your reaction,” you admitted, gasping when his big hand came up to knead your tit, fingertips still a little stained from sketching. His rings were harsh against your skin, and you arched into him, relishing in his greedy touch.

“Sent me to my knees, sweetheart. Damn near killed me.” He pulled the top of you dress down, your tits spilling free, and he took one pert nipple into his mouth, lashing it with his tongue while he teased the other with his hand.

You keened, hands flying into his shaggy hair. Every pull of his mouth went straight to your cunt, making your hips buck against his thigh. He shifted to press his leg harder against you, letting you chase your pleasure, and hummed in approval against your chest.

The friction was amazing, buzzy heat spilling under your skin and making you moan and cling tighter to him, trembling with unspent energy. “Fuck, Barty—please.” You weren’t sure what you were begging for, but he seemed to understand you perfectly.

“Say your mine, treasure,” he said, biting at the side of your breast, and you yelped.

“Yes, Barty! All yours! Just please—”

He pushed two fingers into your mouth, silencing you while he shifted down your body. Without warning, he buried his face between your legs, licking and sucking at your pussy through your panties with an eagerness that made your eyes cross, your teeth sink down on his digits.

“So fucking sweet, baby. Melting like sugar f’me.” He yanked your panties down your legs and returned to his feasting, laving his long tongue through you before sucking hard at you clit. He slipped his fingers from your mouth, needing both hands to spread you open for his consumption.

Your mind was wiped clean, erased completely by all-consuming bliss as he practically mauled your pussy, vicious in his pursuit of your pleasure. His tongue fucked into you, the slurping loud and lewd, while he massaged your clit with his thumb. You dug your nails into his sheets, trying to stifle your screams into his pillow.

"So responsive, baby. Ready for more?" He asked, easing his middle finger inside of your clenching channel, curling against the gooey spot behind your pelvic bone that made you melt into the mattress. Adding a second finger, he started nursing your clit again, letting his dexterous artist’s fingers coax you open.

Once you were moaning, loose and languid against the mattress, he ramped back up, working your g-spot like it stole something from him he was hellbent on getting back. He dragged his teeth against your clit, soothing the flare of pain with his tongue, and you felt yourself draw tight, teetering on the edge of oblivion.

“Barty—oh God, I’m going to come—oh fuck, oh fuck!” You lifted almost completely off the bed as your orgasm slammed into you, ripping through sinnew and bone to consume your heart, devour you entirely.

Barty slowed his ministrations, dragging his tongue through your spasming pussy with long, lush licks, his hold tight on your thighs when you started to inch away from him, your body twitching and shaking as you came down from your high.

“That’s my treasure, so fucking gorgeous when you come for me,” he hummed, smiling against your skin, and nuzzled his nose against your clit while he withdrew his fingers, making you jump and whine. “Not so mean now, are you, sweetness?”

You shook your head, trembling and weak, completely boneless beneath him.

"So soft for me, hm?" He dragged you down the bed, throwing one of your calves over his shoulder while he swiped the head of his cock through your messy slit. “Better hold onto something, darling. You've got me at the end of my leash.”

You wrapped your hands around the bars of his headboard and he grinned, a wicked slash across his handsome face.

“Fuck, I knew you were perfect for me.” He notched his cock at your entrance and with a smooth roll of his hips, buried himself to the hilt. You both cried out, the fullness, the stretch more intense than anything you’d felt before. “I was fucking made for you, baby,” he groaned, dragging his hips back before snapping them forward, your pussy fluttering around him.

“Fuck, B, feels so good,” you mewled, rocking your hips to meet his thrust for thrust, the bed creaking loudly beneath you.

He used his hold on your elevated leg to lift your hips off the bed, ratcheting up to a punishing pace, making you scream and thrash on the bed while he fucked you with every ounce of desperation and determination he’d harbored over the last few months. His teeth sunk into your calf, hard enough to send a bolt of pain down your leg and make you cry out, heightening the pleasure radiating from your core until you were teetering on the edge again, every graze of his cockhead against your cervix winding you tighter, higher—

“Shit, baby, I’m gonna come soon,” he grunted, his thrusts growing sloppy, erratic and rough, and you could only nod. “Can feel it, tres. C’mon, babygirl, come with me. Please, need to feel you come around me, m’dying for it, please, please—”

You came with a scream, your vision whiting out as sunlight blazed through you, eviscerating every ounce of tension, trepidation, fear, and leaving you a beacon of light, nothing but giddy, delirious stardust.

“Fuck, yes, that’s it—fuck!” Barty came a heartbeat after you, the swelling and throbbing of his cock as he painted your inside white prolonging your release, wringing every drop of pleasure from you until you both collapsed onto the bed, chests heaving and sticky with sweat, the glitter from his skin decorating yours.

You reached for him, trembling and raw, and he gathered you into his chest, kissing your cheeks and forehead with a dizzying gentleness. “Barty,” you breathed, hands curling against his chest, too overwhelmed with feeling to say anything else.

“I’m yours,” he whispered, cradling your face to bring your gaze to his. “I’m yours.”

You nodded, leaning forward to kiss him, taste him again, letting the warmth of his body, the heavy beat of his heart, ground you in the reality of this moment. Barty was yours, and you were his. And you were safe. He wanted you despite your attitude, your armor, your callousness. He wanted you exactly as you were, more than happy to lay in the shadows with you, or draw you out into his light to dance.

“And I’m yours,” you breathed against his lips, and he smiled.

“I'll be right back,” he murmured, pressing a delicate kiss to your head before flying out of bed and wrenching open the door, his cock barely stuffed back into his pants. “SHE’S FUCKING MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNEEEEEEE!” He screamed down the stairs to the party.

A chorus of cheers rang out, reaching you from the common room. You buried your face into his pillow, laughter bubbling up despite the embarrassment scorching your cheeks.

Barty whirled around, a maniac’s grin on his face, and he dove back into bed, determined to stake his claim as many times as possible before sunrise.

Thank you for reading!

[guiltyasreid]

high heels ll spencer reid x reader

warnings/tags: non, fluff, total fluff, fem reader, prince charming spencer reid word count: 1226 a/n: this is so not me I can run in heels so have fun with this one.

You were used to wearing boots, booted heels, platforms, and trainers. Never in your life had you thought you'd wear stiletto heels. It was fine, you could walk perfectly fine if you were on a flat surface, the pain wasn't even that bad.

Stairs?

No. Stairs were your biggest enemy in them. Up or down, you were like a new born deer.

"Are you sure you don't want to just wear another pair of shoes?" Spencer asked as he watched you wobble down the stairs of your apartment building.

You gave him a stink eye.

"Fine, but don't ask for my shoes later on." He gave you a look, and you smiled, taking his arm.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Doc." You giggled as you walked to the car.

Both of you were dressed formally, Spencer in his nicest black tux and you in a black satin dress that fell to your midcalf. The FBI had a dinner every couple of years just to celebrate. Spencer and you both knew it was just an excuse for an open bar. 

The drive there was easy enough. It was not far, the two steps into the hotel, you held Spencer's arm for dear life.

"Just up the stairs."

Your heart dropped at the sentence that came out of the receptionist's mouth. You looked towards the grand staircase that was heading up, in that moment, you were sure you'd end up falling down them. Spencer was clearly enjoying your sense of dread, its as if he was waiting to say 'I told you so.' 

"Come on." Spencer tugged you along, and you tried not to trip over your feet.

You started delicately taking steps up the stairs, again holding Spencer's arm. He looked amused at your struggles, but when they got to the 10th step, he sighed. It had taken you 3 minuets to climb them.

You let out a shout as he scooped you into his arms, carrying you up the stairs bridal style. Your arms automatically wrapped around his neck as you went red.

"I couldn't watch you struggle any longer, it was hurting me deeply." He spoke. You tried to hide your smile in his suit. "You definitely are liking this."

You smacked his chest with one of your hands. "Shut up."

You did enjoy every moment of it. He gave you another cheeky smile as you hit the top of the stairs. Delicately, setting you down. You brushed off your dress and gave him a bright smile.

"Thank you." You whispered, already feeling eyes on you both. You fiddled with his tie for a moment.

"Anything for you." He kissed the side of your head before allowing you to take his arm again.

The night went usually. Greeting people you knew, moments where you were on the small room for dancing. Spencer had wandered off somewhere with Derek while you stood with JJ and Will. "How are the shoes?" JJ asked, staring down at her feet. She was the one who'd gifted you them.

"They're nice, but I think most of the time I'm trying not to fall to my death." You let out a chuckle.

JJ gave you a sympathetic look. "You get used to it, I promise."

A tap on your shoulder made you turn around. Spencer stood with his arms behind his back and a cheeky smile on his face. You narrowed your eyes, wondering what he was up to.

He held out his hand dramatically, bowing slightly. "May I have this dance, my lady?"

Your cheeks heated, and you grinned. "Why, of course." You mock curtsied at him as he pulled you onto the makeshift dance floor, where a few people were swaying together.

JJ and Will were joined by the rest of the team, and they all watched them dance together with soft expressions. You giggling at his dramatic flairs to the dance. Him making sure you were only focused on him, it wasn't hard, he was the only one for you. His hair was pushed back slightly, his face had its usual light stubble, he looked like rugged prince charming.  

"Another side to him comes out with her." Derek spoke, a chuckle coming out as he sipped his drink.

Your squeal was audible when he twirled you out quickly, pulling you back in and dipping you low. "You're going to make me fall." You shook your head amused. 

"I'd never let you fall." He smiled back, kissing the side of your mouth. "If I did, I'd always be there to catch you."

"You're so cheesy." You giggled in his arms.

"I'm lactose intolerance." He quipped back, you snorted and pressed your head to his shoulder.

Will smiled at the pair and their antics. "I'll be surprised if they're not married by the end of the year." He spoke out loud.

"It's November." JJ reminded.

Will shrugged. "Like they'd ever have a traditional wedding, they'd probably get married by an Elvis impersonator, with ring pops." JJ laughed leaning back into Will.

"You look wonderful." Spencer whispered as you swayed together.

"And you look magical." You whispered back, he hummed leaning his head on yours.

The night dwindled down, You and Spencer didn't let go of each others hands for the rest of the evening. You said your goodbyes to everyone, making sure to remind the rest of the team about your Christmas party.

As soon as you started making your way out. Spencer scooped you into his arms again, everyone's eyes turned to the pair of you as he rushed out with you in his arms.

Will nudged JJ to look at what Spencer was doing. JJ raised her eyebrows. "Okay, maybe you'll be right." She muttered.

"You like doing this more than me." You laughed as he made his way down the stairs. One arm under your knees, the other under your arms.

"I admit nothing." He replied, kissing your cheek. You hid your face in his neck as he continued.

As soon as they hit the last step. You were sure he'd let you down, instead he kept walking towards the door. "What are you doing?"

"Taking you home, my lady." He replied, giving you another cheeky smile. His eyes were bright staring at you with love in his eyes.

The doorman opened the door with a smile on his face. You wiggled to be let down and he let you down softly laughing at your scowl. You shivered at the cold. He took of his blazer, quickly wrapping you up.

"You don't have to do that." You replied, about to start taking the blazer off. Instead, he just scooped you up again, not caring about the looks he was getting. "Spencer!" You laughed smacking his chest.

"Just enjoy it, I am." He grinned down at you. You rolled your eyes leaning into his shoulder.

Will was right. Three weeks later. Spencer and you announced you two were married at your Christmas party.

Pictures of you with a Elvis impersonator, two red ring pop rings on your left hands. There was pictures of you kissing while dipped. Him holding you bridal style with a bright red lipstick stain on his cheek, and a bright smile on both of your faces. One where you were holding Spencer bridal style, your face red and Spencer trying to hide his face with one hand. Then another where you both had your foreheads together just cheesing at each other. 

[cozage]

congrats on 2k!! for the event, I was wondering for option one, with Sanji, zoro Luffy and laws reaction to their s/o covering their face with kisses, leaving lipstick marks?

Characters: gn reader x Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, Law Total word count: 730

Lipstick Stains

Sanji

Oh you already know this man is inches within his life. Nothing gets him so weak in the knees like physical touch and affection. 

He relishes in your kisses during the moment, letting you go on as long as you want. You can never give him too many kisses, really. 

After the fact, any time he passes by a mirror, he stops to admire your love and your handiwork. He just stares at all the marks you left on him for a few minutes, his hands lightly passing over each one. 

Some of the crewmates (Zoro and Usopp) make fun of him, but he just smirks and says “What, boys? Jealous?”

He struggles to wash it off. He’s a very clean person, but he hates to wash his face after you’ve marked it all up. You can very often find light traces of your lipstick still across his face the next day because he scrubbed so gently while bathing. 

Zoro

Whenever you cover his face with kisses, Zoro…tolerates it. He doesn’t love it, but he doesn’t hate it either. 

Unfortunately for him, he doesn’t look at himself in the mirror much, so he doesn’t notice the red-stained marks you had left all over his face in the process. 

A few things tipped him off when he went down to dinner, though. Sanji is stifling a laugh at him, which isn’t uncommon. But Robin is also giving him a cheeky grin. Usopp and Luffy are both looking anywhere but at him, trying not to burst into laughter. 

And you…your cheeks are flushed red with embarrassment. He rushes to the bathroom and looks at himself in horror. It took him a minute to realize exactly what was all over his face, and he let out a small string of curses as he grabbed a towel and desperately scrubbed at them. 

He comes back to dinner, his face beet red (from embarrassment and excessive scrubbing), and sits down next to you, pretending like nothing happened. 

After that, he always ALWAYS checks himself in the mirror after you come visit him. 

Luffy

Luffy loves to battle with you on who can give the other person more kisses. Everything is always a game with him. 

He wears your kisses around without even knowing it for a while, until Nami says something about it. 

At her words, he rushes to the mirror and looks, admiring his face and all the proof of your love. He’s kind of jealous that you can mark your kisses so easily. 

That’s when he gets an idea. The next time you two have a kissing war, he offers to put on lipstick as well, that way you can tell for sure who won. 

And that way, you get to see proof of his love too. 

The two of you parade around the ship with your faces covered in shades of red and pink, showing off your new designs and laughing the entire time. 

Law

Law is not a man who enjoys physical touch. But if you’re alone…he’ll allow it. Sometimes, he might even enjoy it. 

Especially if he’s in his study and you come in and curl up in his lap, softly kissing his face to try and get him to come to bed. You can be very persuasive. 

“Go on to bed,” he finally says, shutting his book. “I’m going to get some water and I’ll be in a minute.”

He doesn’t pass by a mirror, or else he would’ve noticed the new addition. Instead, Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo see it as he grabs water from the kitchen. 

“Love the new look, Captain!” Shachi teases, a mischievous smile plastered on his face. “You should keep it like that!”

Law reaches up to inspect his cheeks, but he can’t feel anything. He looks at Bepo, confused. 

“It’s kind of…everywhere,” Bepo says, trying his best not to crack a smile. 

Law quickly rushes to a mirror and finds his face covered in lip marks. He races out of the room without another word and back to you. 

“Y/N,” he says, trying not to get angry. “Next time, please inform me when you’ve…redecorated.”

You giggle and pull him into bed, adding another kiss mark to his forehead. Scrubbing it all off can be a problem for tomorrow.

[suksatoru]

rin itoshi has a very special skill, one where he can predict when you're about to spew absolute nonsense. he says he has a sixth sense reserved just for your antics, and he also swears you're going to be the reason he has a full head of gray hair before he turns twenty.

"rinnie," you try again—pouting when rin exhales sharply from his nose, refusing to meet your gaze. rin sits on the ground at the end of his bed, and you sit perched on top of his blankets—hanging your head upside down to stare at him like the cheshire cat.

"no." he replies, short and curt as you drape yourself over his shoulder with a sigh. he shifts the slightest bit so you can comfortably curl your head against his form. you nose at his throat before speaking up again, quieter this time.

"pretty please? it's really all i want, rinnie. it would make my day—no, my life! please?"

rin thought you were the idiot in this relationship, but he knows he's the real lovesick fool. it wasn't impossible to say no, he says it to other people all the time. but your eyes are hopeful and round. and truthfully, the sight of your frown was truly his undoing.

rin lets out a dramatic sigh, loud and annoyed—and you know he accepts his defeat when he hands you his hair brush with a grumble. you roll off of the bed, sitting criss cross on the ground across him in an instant as you grab the nearby rubber bands laying on the floor with a dopey grin

"you just relax while i work rinnie! i promise, you won't even know i'm here!"

rin's deadpan expression only makes you laugh quietly, and you lean forward to place a gentle peck onto his lips. you hover over his mouth after pulling away an inch, taking a moment to admire his face before grinning

"grumpy," you muse as you gently brush your nose against his. rin mumbles something about you knowing nothing about personal space as he tugs you onto his lap

"if i'm bald by the end of this—"

"oooh rinnie your hair's so soft! i'm stealing your shampoo later," you interrupt with a giggle, pressing soft kisses onto the crown of his head as his shoulders slump. his broody expression is far too adorable to not kiss, and after peppering enough kisses onto his cheeks to leave them tinted pink—you get to work.

rin doesn't know why you want to style his hair. he regards your sparkly pink hair clips with an eye roll. but your fingers are gentle and soothing as they work to brush and style his hair, and he can feel the exhaustion slowly dispersing from his muscles as he leans into your touch.

"it feels...nice. thank you," he murmurs softly, gently rubbing your thigh as you hum in response. he moves to take a glance at you, and his heart skips a beat when he sees your tongue poked out in concentration as you work on tying his hair. cute.

it takes another fifteen minutes for you to finish your assault on his head. rin's practically putty beneath your fingers now, and there's a barely visible furrow between his brows when you pull your touch away from him.

"you look like a prince... you should totally let me style your hair more often, rinnie!" you gush, smiling softly as you admire your work on him.

"i'll be the judge of that," he mutters with a small smile, reaching onto his bed to grab your phone. he bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling when he sees your wallpaper being his back and jersey number, but the smile is wiped off his face in an instant as he lets out a startled yelp—staring at his reflection in the camera app.

"yeah. not happening, you cheeky brat." he scoffs, pointing at his head with a scowl

"y/n, tell me where you got five hundred charms of hello kitty clips... what damned store did you rob? and why are there pink extensions in my hair? are they—is that fucking glitter in them?"

rin eventually fell victim to a photoshoot, though he shouldn't be surprised. did he really think he'd escape you that easily? he's not very amused by your new wallpaper of him afterwards, but he can't even try and stop the amusement glimmering in his emerald eyes.

"not a soul will see those pictures. or i swear, i'll stick you in a gold fish tank y/n." rin mutters later that night as you two lay in bed, pressing feather soft kisses onto your shoulder blades as he silently admires the way your lips jut out in an adorable pout. his threat isn't very scary when he holds you like you're the most precious thing in his life, but you nod anyway.

"okay," you sigh in defeat. rin's eyes narrow suspiciously as he wraps his arms around your waist, settling in for the night as he turns off his bedside lamp.

"night, y/n." he whispers gently, his lashes brushing against your cheek as he kisses you softly. your hand gently brushes his bangs away from his eyes, and his face softens at your giggles

"night, rinnie. tomorrow you can style my hair! and then, we can be twins..." you affirm quietly. it's dark in the room, the night outside blanketing you two. there's a sliver of moonlight pouring through the window, and it's the only reason you're able to see the gentle smile on rin's face before you fall asleep.

blue lock masterlist :P

[lay-z]

I wrote this at work. Yes, I might be a secretary and personal assistant. Unfortunately, I do not work for Captain Price or TF-141...*sobs quietly* It's a little filthy. Minors DNI.  – 18+ Only! I might write more. Pairing: civvie!f!reader x Captain John Price (for now)

Warnings/Info: Personal assistant/secretary reader; flirting; age gap; restraints; orgasm denial; fingering; semi-public sex (I guess?); boss/employee dynamic

Landing the job as Captain Price’s personal assistant and secretary came as a total surprise to you – personally. To Captain Price, it was a no-brainer.

Speaking multiple languages, being discreet and introverted by nature and yet experiencing the constant craving for more adventure, variety and independence in your life, made you the absolute perfect fit. Furthermore, you were more than willing to leave your civilian life behind and move to the military base in the UK, where the TF-141 HQ is located. More plus points, because your work ethic is based on tidiness, determination and a no-bullshit attitude.

Work is easy enough for you; you help with translations, organise meetings, briefings and debriefings, help the Captain with his appointments, and more – typical personal assistant and secretary work.

Your work relationship with Price is based on mutual respect and it’s comfortable enough; he is nice to you, always polite, and makes sure you always know how much he appreciates your work.

One late Friday evening, while you’re still engrossed in a particularly difficult and, more specifically, classified transcript, Captain Price approaches you at your desk in your own office space, and you don’t even notice him, until he clears his throat loudly.

“Working late again, lass?” He asks you with that gruff, deep voice of his, and you can practically hear the slightly accusatory undertone in his voice. Price never likes it when you work unnecessary extra hours.

“Yes, sir. I just want to finish translating this transcript for you, so you’ll have it for the briefing on Monday morning,” you reply with a sheepish smile, leaning back in your office chair to stretch your back. You do catch the way his deep blue eyes roam over your outstretched form, albeit briefly, and Price notices how the buttons of your olive green blouse nearly pop open as the soft fabric strains over your ample breasts and how your curves look in that position, covered and accentuated by that tight black pencil skirt you like to wear at work.

“Fine,” the Captain responses gruffly, caving in immediately, because he appreciates the effort you put in your work.

“But if yer boyfriend shows up at HQ one day, trying to murder me for keeping you away from home all the bloody time, I’m not responsible for what might happen to him.” He adds good-naturedly, shooting you one of those rare, cheeky smiles of his.

“Ach, don’t worry, Captain,” you retort with a mock scoff, waving him off in a playfully dismissive manner – one only you’re allowed to display, because after working closely with Price and the rest of the 141 for over half a year, you’ve developed a sort of light-hearted friendship with all of them.

“There’s no one waiting for me at home anyway.” You admit fleetingly and when Price doesn’t comment on that little insight you’ve just given him on your personal life, he does look rather contemplative. He lets out a small huff.

“Aye, then,” he eventually says with a curt nod after a few beats of oddly tense silence between you two. “Don’t forget to lock up again once ye’re done, lass.”

Then he turns on his heavy combat boots, shaking his head while muttering something unintelligible under his breath as he leaves your office again, and suddenly, you can’t shake the feeling that you might’ve just made a huge mistake.

By Monday, you’ve all but forgotten about that interaction between your boss and yourself.

However, it doesn’t take long for you to notice the subtle changes in the work dynamic you’d carefully established with Captain Price over the past six months.

After bringing him his morning coffee – something you’ve more or less insisted on doing once you started working for him, because you’re nice and you enjoy doing little gestures for people you genuinely like – the Captain stops you in your tracks, before you can leave his office again.

“Aye, lass?” He calls after you, not looking up from the report he is currently working on as he sits behind his large and cluttered mahogany desk.

“Yes, Captain?”

You can see him hesitate for the briefest moment as his jaw works and clenches beneath his thick sideburns.

“Just call me John, yes? No need for formalities when we’re alone.” He tells you, still not making eye contact with you as you practically gape at him for a few seconds, unsure how to process the sudden and new privilege. Your eyelashes flutter briefly as you finally nod, though he’s still not looking at you and thus not seeing the slight smile now plastered on your lips.

“Yes, Ca – uh, John.”

As you step outside his office eventually, closing the heavy door behind you as you leave, you miss the sly yet pleased smirk that suddenly plays on the Captain’s lips.

And suddenly, Captain Price – John – who’s previously always been very considerate of your time on and off work and the boundary between your work life and privacy, becomes more present in your life and demanding of your attention than any ex-boyfriend of yours has ever been.

It starts with needing your help – a lot – with tasks and chores he’d never needed nor asked for your help before, like sorting and filing reports inside his office, while he himself is present.

At first, you’re just working alongside each other, going about your tasks, but once you notice him silently sipping his coffee, watching you, while you’re organising some old files and reports, you start to become suspicious.

“You used to always do this yourself, John,” you remark bluntly at some point after feeling his intense eyes on you for minutes on end, categorizing a pile of reports by date and classification, while he’s leaning back in his office chair, chewing on a cigar.

“Didn’t want me to mess with your work routine at all.” You add with a soft huff.

“True that, but see,” Price retorts nonchalantly. “I’ve come to terms with the fact that ye’re better at it anyway. Plus, I like to have ye around, darling. Helps keeping me sane.” He tells you with a low, rumbling chuckle – one that makes a sudden tingle run down your spine at his blunt admission.

“Yeah…right.” You scoff in return, keeping your back turned towards him as a hot blush creeps up your neck, tinting your cheeks red.

After the lingering gazes and cheeky comments, come the pet names and then the random gifts and then...the touches, and soon you find yourself in a whole new dynamic at work.

Your lips are shut tightly with only the occasional shaky and shallow breath blurting past them – because more is not allowed when John is in a work call.

With your back pressed flush against his broad chest, wrists tied together behind your back with a shoelace of a combat boot and your thighs spread wide apart as you’re sitting on his lap with your pencil skirt bunched up around your hips, Captain Price has pushed aside the flimsy fabric of your thong a while ago and is currently rubbing lazy circles around your slicked up clit with the calloused pad of his right forefinger while his left arm is embracing your midriff loosely, his large warm hand occasionally palming and squeezing your breasts over your white blouse.

You don’t know what he’s talking about with his superiors. As usual, your mind has shut off some time ago, now completely focused on not making a sound as he has ordered you to. All you can feel rather than hear is the vibration of his gruff voice as it reverberates from his chest against your back, his breath fanning over the side of your neck whenever he shifts and leans in to you on his office chair, and his thick fingers toying with your pussy, almost absentmindedly.

“It keeps me grounded, luv. Keeps me sane during these bloody conference calls.”  – That’s what John tells you whenever he randomly calls you into his office and asks you to lock the door behind you. Sometimes it happens multiple times a day and you’ve stopped bringing spare underwear to work, because your laundry keeps piling up. At this point, John calling you into his office is enough to get you wet, like some trained dog – Pavlov’s bitch. Classical conditioning.

“Doing so good for me, darling,” he murmurs against your ear and his accent has become somewhat thicker, his beard scratching over your flushed skin as he speaks only adds to the  sensations, after muting himself briefly, like he does sometimes – whether it is for praise or to chide you to stay quiet.

There’s that familiar needy plea burning on the tip of your tongue again, but you know uttering it will only end up with him biting back a rough chuckle and muting the call again to mock you, before edging you even worse for insubordination – long after the work call has ended.

“I might let you cum once if you keep being such a good little assistant for me,” He mutters lowly though there is a hint of teasing in his low, rough voice and he unmutes himself again, before he speeds up his ministrations on your throbbing clit, his fingers rubbing and flicking the sensitive bud mercilessly.

Then your back arches, wrists straining painfully against the bindings behind your back and your head lolls back against his hard shoulder while you choke back a desperate whine, swallowing it down helplessly, clenching your teeth while the tension in your lower abdomen coils deliciously and the muscles in your thighs twitch relentlessly, chasing after the release that John keeps denying you.

But before you can take a sharp inhale through your nose to brace yourself for the inevitable, eyes already rolling back into the sockets as your body tenses and your hips buck into his touch, the Captain withdraws his hand before lightly patting his fingers over your slick, pulsating cunt condescendingly.

“I said…I might, luv.” John whispers against the side of your neck, nuzzling his nose against your fluttering pulse point as you writhe on his lap, not bothering to mute himself this time.

“Uh, what was that, Captain?”

[loverangels]

i wanna show you off

pairings: percy jackson x fem!reader

synopsis: percy has no shame in showing you off.

percy flashed that signature grin, eyes twinkling with playful mischief as he stepped closer to you. "Hey sweet girl" he says, his arms sliding around your waist. "You should totally wear that off the shoulder top today. You know the one that shows your shoulders? I swear you'll look incredible'" he coaxes, and you can't help out suspect there's a deeper intent behind this request.

You're raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "First of all I think it's pretty obvious what an off the shoulder top looks like, secondly, have you forgotten? You do realise if I wear that everyone's gonna see-"

He interrupted leaning in just a bit too close, his lips curling up into a cheeky grin. "Exactly that's why I want you to wear it," he said his voice dropping to that easing , almost too smooth, tone. "So everyone can see just how amazing my sweet girl looks. And you know, so I can have you all to myself."

You smirked, shaking your head slightly, "and the marks huh? What about-"

"marks?" He grinned wider, slipping his fingers under the hem of your top and gently tracing the skin on your back. "Why do you think I want you to wear it sweet girl?" He leaned in placing a slow, soft kiss just below your ear. "Let 'em see. Let 'em know you're mine."

You shivered slightly as his lips lightly brushed your skin again, and before you could say anything, his hands were on your waist, pulling you closer. "Percy stop" you warned feeling weaker the more he kissed and nibbled on your skin.

He chuckled softly against your neck, his breath warm on your skin, "can't blame me for wanting to show off my sweet girl, can you?" he teased, his arms tightening around youm. " Who wouldn't want the whole camp to see how beautiful you are, especially when I'm the one that gets to kiss you like this?"

[hoshifighting]

Heyyy! I was wondering if you could do S/O as the one in charge during sex? I don’t know what it’s called, sorry😓

seventeen with dom!reader

WARNINGS: smut, dom & sub relationships

seungcheol loves it. he’s smirking half the time, pretending he's dominating u, but then you’re telling him to get on his knees, and he’s “alright, fine, whatever you want.” but you can see him hiding a grin. he’s a big, tough guy on the outside, but that “yes, ma’am” slips out so easily it’s hilarious. gets turned on easily so everything u give him, it's a win.

jeonghan would act like he’s above it but secretly eats it up. if you’re hyping him up one minute and then telling him to sit the hell down the next, he’s fully invested. you throw in a, “you don’t look so obedient now, hm?” and he’s already doing whatever you say.

joshua’s that sweet boy who’ll do anything if you ask nicely—and he's the kind to go red when you don’t ask nice. he’d hesitate if you start getting real bossy, but as soon as you pull his hair and give him a look its game ovaaaar. he’s fully yours.

jun's no convincing necessary. you give him a hint, and he’s like, “what do you need? what do you want?” he’s got zero ego about it, like he’s waiting for instructions, ready to please, probably with a smirk just for you.

hoshi would need a little convincing just for the fun of it, but the second you start commanding him around, he’s bowed. he’d be like, “you serious?” until you raise an eyebrow, and then he’s on his knees, no questions asked, with a grin like he’s enjoying the hell out of it—gets super hard too.

woozi’s that guy who’d scoff until you actually put him in his place—and then he’s low-key living for it. he’ll pretend he’s got things under control right up until you push him back and say, “think you can behave?” and suddenly he’s speechless and fully cooperating.

wonwoo would keep his reactions subtle, maybe raise an eyebrow at the idea of you calling the shots. but he’s got this curious side; he wants to see where you’re going with it. after a few commands, he’s fully hooked, silently waiting for you to tell him what to do, totally focused on following through.

minghao? pffftd!! too easy. you tell him what to do, and he’s already on it. he’d probably be smiling while he listens, challenging you to keep going using that mf grin. no shame, just a boy ready to get properly bossed around.

mingyu would need a little push now and then, flustered about it—but if you boss him like; grabbing his cock and pulling him around with u to the bedroom, he’s a mess. you say, “good boy,” and he’s gone gooone, all wide-eyed, probably ready to do whatever you say before you even say it. he’s an absolute dream at following orders.

seokmin would be all bouncy in pov, probably doing it before you finish talking. but if he gets too cheeky.. the second you give him a firm direction, he’s serious SERIOUS, ready to follow you to a T. sweet and obedient.

seungkwan’s got a little backtalk as we knoe, maybe even rolling his eyes if you get too authoritative. but if you pinch a nipple here, yank his hair there, he’s completely melted, practically begging you to keep him in line, “okay, okay ma'am, I’m listening.” he’d never admit he loves it, but he does.

vernon’d act like he’s not even fazed. he’d hype you up the whole time, treating you like royalty, always calling you ma’am. maybe would do a little back-and-forth to see how firm you are—maybe to see if ur going to punish him os smth.

chan is fully devoted, you tell him to stay still, and he’s trying his hardest, already looking at you for approval, probably asking, “is this okay?” while secretly loving the whole boss-me-around vibess. not entirely sure how he’s supposed to act but so ready to do whatever you say. likes impressing you, trying his best not to mess up a single detail when u give him a commnd.