#like i get him and why he is like that but i just feel like being kind and caring towards him would feel so good

[skrunksthatwunk]

hey a couple of things

1. glad people are seeing this bc his death deserves to be discussed and mourned

2. the use of "black bodies" rather than lives/people/etc has come up a couple of times and i would like to state for the record that this post was made by a black person. you can still be upset about/uncomfortable with that phrasing (and as a white person myself i'm in no position to judge it) but it is the language that a leftist black person who cares about and is engaged with this issue chose to use and felt comfortable using

wasn't able to find any posts about him on here but

[sloaneispunk]

“too sweet for me”

frontman!in-ho x you

when in-ho developed feelings for you in the games, he realised how much older he was compared to you. but age is just a number…right?

๑⋅⋯ ──── ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ ──── ⋯⋅๑

after the first games, reality set in. you sat on your bed, trying to scrub the blood off your hands and face. you were practically clawing at your arms, but the blood wouldn’t come off. then, you were approached by a man. ‘player 001’ it said on the jacket.

“you’re hurting yourself like that.” the man said to you, kneeling down by your bed.

“i’m fine.” you gave him a weak smile as you stopped.

“come, let me help.” he took your hand, taking the sleeve of his jacket, gently rubbing the dry blood off of your arm as you watched.

“thank you.” you whispered.

“you’re welcome.” he looked up and smiled. “you have some here…” in-ho licked his thumb, hesitating as if he was asking for permission, when you nodded, he cleaned your cheek.

when he was done, you thanked him once more.

“what’s your name? you look awfully young.” he commented.

“y/n…” you said shyly, making his heart swell.

“i’m young-il, it was nice to meet you.” he said before he got up, but you grabbed his arm.

“wait, i uh, c-can you stay?”

in-ho looked down at you, why would you want him to stay?

“i shouldn’t, i-” then, he heard a group of rowdy boys on the other side of the room, the leader with purple hair picking on a weaker girl. “on second thought, i think i should.”

in-ho stayed with you until lights out, keeping an eye out for thanos’ group and making sure that you were safe from them.

how old were you? definitely much younger than he was, but you were so sweet, so innocent. he loved it.

the next day, in-ho hadn’t slept. he had been too caught up watching you sleep, admiring as every hair fell in place, your chest heaving with every breath you took. he couldn’t deny that he hadn’t approached you with a motive. he knew it was wrong, but that didn’t stop him from going to the bathroom when everyone was asleep to jerk himself off to the thought of you.

“y/n, come, have mine. you need to eat more.” in-ho said sternly, passing you his packet of milk as he ate his breakfast with you.

“why? you should have it.” you rejected him, tossing it back to him.

“you need it more than me.”

“i’m not a kid, young-il.” you rolled your eyes playfully at him causing him to chuckle.

you weren’t. so why did he have the urge to protect you?

then, he heard the voice of gi-hun, he turned around. there his real target was. in-ho brought you along as he made his way to the group, approaching them with a friendly smile.

easily, they welcomed you both with open arms, just like how in-ho knew they would.

“so why did you pick ‘o’?” jung-bae asked, mouth stuffed full.

“oh, i just need more money to pay off my debt…” in-ho started. “… i had a wife and kid but i lost them because of my gambling habits.”

the whole atmosphere of the group fell, everyone didn’t know what to say.

you somehow felt guilty. this man was old enough to be your dad, why were you attracted to him? besides he already has a family outside this place. your heart sank, making you look down at your food as the others continued to talk.

“what about you?” you heared in-ho ask, making your head shoot up. “i’m sure your parents must be worried, why do you want to keep playing?” he pointed to the ‘o’ on your jacket.

��it’s just me.” you replied solemnly, “i don’t really have anyone waiting for me.”

you could feel everyone’s eyes on you, staring into your soul as you immediately regretted revealing that part of yourself. you mentally slapped yourself, you were being too vulnerable too quickly.

“hey, it’s okay. when we get out of here, we’ll all continue being friends!” jung-bae nudged your arm, making you smile.

“yeah! we’ll all go eat a feast when we get out!” dae-ho agreed.

in-ho didn’t like that idea, and his face didn’t even try to hide it. he didn’t like that you would hang out with anyone other than him.

‘players please proceed to the next game’

you were terrified. after knowing the stakes at hand, you knew it was suicide continuing, but you didn’t have any other choice. in-ho noticed you stiffen, he gave your arm a squeeze, letting you know that he was still there.

when you reached the second game, you learnt that it was going to be played in groups of five. luckily for everyone, your team already had five members.

you took your seats in a line on the floor, awaiting instructions. in-ho sat in front of you, still ensuring that you were sat close to him as the game commenced.

the first two teams took their places at the start line, both eager to win the games. but it was harder than anyone had thought. eventually, neither was able to complete all stations in time. you watched as they were being taken out by the guards, shot down with no remorse.

you instinctively grabbed onto in-ho as you gasped at the gnarly sight in front of you. if you didn’t get your head in the game, that would be you soon enough.

“what are you thinking about?” in-ho questioned when you had failed to answer him, lost deep in your thoughts.

“i’m scared, young-il.”

“nothing will happen to you, i promise.” he replied, ruffling your hair. “stay strong for me.”

you nodded.

when it was your turn, you could feel your legs shaking with every step you took. in-ho was the first to link your arms with his, giving you a subtle smile to calm your nerves.

as the game started, the team made their way to the first station. dae-ho picked up the ddakji, throwing it once, hard onto the ground. by some miracle, the blue envelope had flipped and everyone cheered.

at the second game, jung-bae took the stone from the guard. you shifted closer to in-ho, giving him space to aim. in-ho took the opportunity, pulling you close against him, you were everything at that moment. he could feel the warmth radiating off you, your smell filling his nostrils, making his head dizzy. he barely noticed when everyone cheered once more ehen the stone had been easily knocked down.

then, it was your turn.

“breathe.” in-ho whispered in your ear when he noticed how shaky your hands were.

to his surprise, you had managed to pass within a single try. he cheered you on louder than anyone in the team, moving on the the next game.

even as he spun the spinning top, your arm never left his. maybe it was a good luck charm, because he too was able to spin it on his first try. part of his was relieved because he didn’t embarrass himself in front of you but another was disappointed. in-ho had planned this moment out for so long, he would fail multiple times to keep gi-hun on edge. it was funny how just by having you there he had screwed up his whole plan, he didn’t know whether to love or hate it.

naturally, gi-hun had also made it without having any redo’s. everyone was estatic as they were being led out of the game room, but in-ho was off.

then, he felt a small hand on his shoulder causing him to turn around only to be met with your face.

“are you okay?” you asked as you caught up with him. “we did it, why do you look so down?”

“just surprised i guess.” he said, trying to brush it off.

walking back into the room, you were approached by thanos and his team.

“you goons made it back, huh?” thanos jeered, arms crossed as he looked you up and down.

that didn’t go unnoticed by in-ho. he slapped the boy across the face, shocking him as he gasped dramatically.

“look at me when you’re talking to me.” in-ho spat.

“who are you? is this your boyfriend, girl? isn’t he a bit too old?” thanos laughed. but in-ho didn’t take it lightly, punching him, causing him to fall to the ground as his nose started to bleed.

“young-il, that’s enough.” you stopped him before he could take it further.

with one last look of disgust, in-ho walked off, leaving the boy on the floor.

in-ho might not have realised it but that comment took a toll on him. it made him realise how true his words really were. he was in his 50s and you were so much younger than him, it wasn’t right for him to feel how he felt towards you.

“young-il, what happened-”

“go away, y/n. i don’t even know why you care so much.” he raised his voice, pulling his arm away before you could touch him.

you were dumbfounded, taking a step back as your eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill.

did that come out too harsh? he hadn’t mean to snap at you, he was just so caught up in everything.

you simply nodded, heading back to the team as he stood there alone, regret overwhelming him as he cursed under his breath.

that night, he couldn’t sleep. how could he? he tossed and turned in his bed, trying to erase your pitiful face from his mind. eventually, he got up, walking towards your bed, but you were gone.

he started to panick, rushing towards the guards, pushing pass them to leave the room. as he practically ran pass the bathroom, he heard soft cries. shit.

he barged in, “y/n? are you here?” you didn’t reply.

he went to the only closed stall and gently knocked, making sure that he didn’t scare you. “y/n, open the door. it’s me.”

“go away.” he heard your muffled voice.

he really did mess up.

“honey, open the door, let me in.” he pleaded.

after a few moments, he heard a click. then, he saw you, sitting on the floor with tears running down your cheeks, your eyes and lips puffy from crying.

“oh, darling.” he cooed, kneeling down, just like how he did when you had first met. “why are you crying?”

you didn’t reply, only gazing up at him with sadness in your eyes. he didn’t need you to tell him what was wrong, he knew.

he sat down, pulling you close to him, letting you cry into his chest as he held you.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it.” he murmured into your hair. “please don’t cry.”

his heart broke all over again with every tear that fell. he had hurt the only person that didn’t deserve any pain in this place.

what was he going to do? he had never felt this kind of weakness before, he almost felt vulnerable with you. you needed him and he needed you too.

[no-144444]

don’t embarrass me- l.norris

summary: lando and you have a fight on NYE

pairing: lando norris x fem! reader

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You were angry. Every five seconds you had a friend asking if you and Lando had broken up, all because Maugi (one of Lando’s friends) was trying to make it look like she was with Lando. It was infuriating.

“You alright baby?” Lando whispered as he leant against you, the party already in full swing. You looked fabulous. Silver and gold for the new year. You looked like a million bucks. Yet you felt like a fraud. Every time you saw them together you felt yourself… shrink. Like you had to make room for their friendship. Whenever you’d try to talk to him about it, you were met with more questions than answers, and a lot of aggression.

You didn’t care anymore.

“I’m good,” you smiled. “You?”

“I’m great,” he smirked, pulling your waist into his. “You look fucking gorgeous,” he whispered, dotting kisses against your cheek.

You grinned. “Thanks baby.”

His grip tightened but over his shoulder you saw him. Oscar. Lando’s teammate. Lando’s friend. You had a plan, and you were going to make Lando pay for brushing you off.

“Wanna get out of here-?” Lando had started to speak, but he was cut off when you walked away, and straight into Oscar’s arms. He assumed after a little while, you’d come back. You didn’t. You and Oscar spent all of New Year’s Together, while Lando was stuck with Max and Pietra looking every part the perfect couple.

“Why are you sulking?” Max laughed, clapping Lando on the back.

“She’s gone off with Oscar,” he mumbled, looking up as he leant against the balcony railing.

“He is her best mate,” he pointed out. “Join the conversation, or at least hang off her like you usually do.”

He huffed. “She’s mad at me.”

“What did you do this time?” P asked.

“The whole Maugi thing kind of got to her, and when she’d ask me… I kind of brushed her off. She's been off for weeks.”

“So you fucked up?” Max sighed.

“I fucked up,” he nodded. “And now she’s ignoring me, and it’s 3 minutes to midnight.”

“She’ll let you be her New Year’s kiss, surely,” Max scoffed.

Lando nodded, deciding to go find you, but the uncertainty in his stomach had settled long ago.

He caught you from across the room, the absolute picture of beauty. Dancing haphazardly with Lily as Oscar held both your drinks, you danced, somehow looking somehow carefree and elegant at the same time. He smiled. The anxiety in his chest settled momentarily. You were still you. You were still his. You were just upset.

“It’s almost midnight,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, joining you in dancing as Lily excused herself to the bar. The red flashing lights and alcohol in both your systems made your dancing look a lot dirtier than it had intended to be, but alas, he just enjoyed feeling you close.

“Oh yeah?” You asked, turning around to him. “Finding Maugi anytime soon?”

He rolled his eyes. “You think I’d want her over you?”

“You don’t make it look any different,” you scoffed.

“Baby,” he smirked, practically laughing. “You’re the most perfect, incredible, kind, woman I have ever met. I love you. You’re my everything. I’ll admit when you came to me about it, I could’ve responded better, and I’m sorry. I was stressed about the way the media saw it, and I didn’t know how to respond to you. I’m sorry.”

You smirked. “That’s all I needed.”

He giggled, pulling you into him. How had he ever pulled you? He was such a loser when it came to you. He’d do anything.

“Do I get my midnight kiss?” He smiled, his cheeks blushing.

“You’re such a baby,” you chuckled as the timer counted down. You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Don’t ever embarrass me like you have, ever again.”

You pressed your lips to his and bit down on his bottom lip. You made him scared. Is it bad that made him hard?

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navigation for my blog :)

mclaren masterlist

[lizziesangel]

heyyy, could you do a one shot of rafe x high maintenance!kook!reader, about her expensive skinncare routine and rafe is just so in love of how well she takes cares of herself but at the same time like "90 dollars of this shit????" and reader is just "yeah😁 it has collagen, you should try it"

absolutely love this!!

the night had been perfect—rafe made sure of it. dinner at the fanciest restaurant in town, with white tablecloths and a wine list so long it came in a leather-bound book. he didn’t even blink at the check, sliding his card over with the confidence of someone who did this all the time. the drive home was just as good, you sitting in the passenger seat, admiring your new nails under the streetlights, the soft hum of the radio in the background.

“seriously, rafe, aren’t they gorgeous?” you asked, holding your hand up to catch the faint glow of the dashboard lights. “look at the shine. and the shape? absolutely perfect. they even feel sturdier this time, like they’re not going to chip in two weeks.”

he glanced over briefly, his lips tugging into a lazy smile. “yeah, they look good. but you’ve said that, like, twenty times already.”

“and i’ll say it twenty times more, you’re the one who paid for them,” you pointed out, inspecting them again. “you should be happy i’m obsessed with them.”

“oh, i’m happy,” he said, turning into the driveway. “just wondering if i’m gonna hear about them all week.”

“probably,” you teased, stepping out of the car.

the conversation didn’t stop there. even as you followed him upstairs, you were still gushing.

“seriously, though, rafe. i think this might be my favorite set ever. they’re just so clean and classy.”

“yeah, they’re nice,” he said, pulling his shirt off as he walked into the bedroom. “good thing you didn’t go with that neon pink idea you showed me.”

“it was bubblegum pink, and it was cute!” you argued, crossing your arms.

“sure, babe,” he said with a smirk, falling onto the bed. “bubblegum pink’s cute.”

rolling your eyes, you walked over to the mirror, sighing at your reflection. “ugh, i have to take my makeup off first.”

rafe propped himself up on one elbow, watching you. “can’t you just… skip it?”

you turned to him, horrified. “skip it? baby, do you know what that would do to my skin?”

“no, but i’m sure you’re gonna tell me,” he teased, flopping onto the bed and pulling the blanket up.

you ignored him, grabbing your skincare bag and heading to the bathroom. after what felt like forever, you finally emerged, your face clean of makeup, wearing your silk robe.

rafe was lying in bed, one arm behind his head, watching you with a mixture of impatience and amusement.

“you know what we should get?” you asked, your tone casual.

he raised an eyebrow. “what?”

“a vanity.”

rafe blinked at you. “a what?”

“a vanity,” you repeated, walking over to sit cross-legged on the bed.

“why would we need a vanity?”

“so i can do my makeup and skincare in the bedroom instead of going to the bathroom every time,” you explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

rafe gestured vaguely toward the open bathroom door. “the bathroom’s literally right there.”

you rolled your eyes, scooting closer to him. “yeah, but i’d rather be in here with you.”

he groaned, but there was no missing the fondness in his voice when he said, “you’re unbelievable.”

“and you love me for it,” you said with a grin.

he chuckled softly, pulling you closer for a quick kiss before turning back to his phone. shaking your head with a smile, you stood and padded back to the bathroom, ready to start your skincare routine.

as you began massaging a cleanser onto your face, you heard footsteps behind you. glancing in the mirror, you saw rafe leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, watching you.

“what are you doing?” you asked, surprised but pleased.

“figured i’d see what all the hype’s about,” he said, smirking.

you laughed, turning back to the sink. “all right, pay attention.”

he stayed quiet, watching as you worked.

“first step,” you began, holding up the bottle. “oil-based cleanser. this gets rid of all the makeup and sunscreen.”

“so that’s why your face looks all shiny now?”

“exactly,” you said, rinsing it off. “next step: water-based cleanser. it makes sure everything’s actually gone.”

“seems like overkill,” he muttered, but his eyes stayed on you as you lathered up the second cleanser.

“it’s not,” you insisted, rinsing and patting your face dry with a towel. “now, toner. it balances your skin’s pH and preps it for the rest of the products.”

“you’re making this up,” he said, shaking his head.

“i’m not,” you said with a laugh, grabbing a small bottle. “next is serum. this one’s hydrating—it has hyaluronic acid.”

“whatever that is,” he said, leaning in a little closer.

“it’s amazing,” you said, patting the serum into your skin. “then comes eye cream. dab it under your eyes to keep them hydrated.”

“you have young skin,” he pointed out. “why do you need all this anti-aging stuff?”

“prevention is key,” you said simply, dabbing the cream under your eyes. “next, lip mask. it keeps your lips soft overnight.”

“lip mask?”

“yes, rafe. just trust me.”

he chuckled, watching as you smoothed the mask over your lips. “what’s next?”

“retinol,” you said, holding up a small tube. “but i only use it once a month.”

“why bother, then?”

“because it’s good to start early!” you said, smoothing a tiny amount over your skin.

rafe stayed quiet for a moment, watching as you worked through your routine. his curiosity got the better of him again when you reached for a fancy-looking gold jar.

“how much was that one?” he asked casually.

you hesitated. “uh… ninety, i think?”

“ninety dollars?” his voice shot up an octave as he grabbed the jar to inspect it.

“yes, rafe,” you said, snatching it back. “it’s a luxury brand. it has collagen.”

he gestured at the counter, which was full of bottles and jars from estée lauder, clinique, and clarins. “so how much is all of this combined?”

you shrugged, applying the last of your products. “a couple hundred, maybe?”

“holy shit,” rafe muttered, running a hand through his hair.

you grinned, turning to face him. “what? you like how soft my skin is, don’t you?”

rafe gestured at the counter, which was covered in products from estée lauder, clinique, and clarins. “so… who pays for all this?”

“i do,” you said, capping the jar of moisturizer.

rafe stared at you, incredulous. “no, you’re lying.”

“i swear!”

“no,” he said firmly, crossing his arms. “i’ll pay for it.”

“rafe, you can’t pay for everything,” you argued, rolling your eyes.

he shook his head. “i can, and i will. no way you’re spending this much on—” he gestured vaguely at the counter—“this… whole collection.”

you raised an eyebrow at him. “i budget for it.”

rafe stared at you for a moment, then leaned against the counter with a smirk. “okay, new plan. i’m paying for it from now on.”

“rafe, you can’t just—”

“i can, and i will,” he interrupted, his tone firm but playful.

“you’re not paying for everything,” you argued, narrowing your eyes at him.

he leaned in, his smirk softening into something gentler. “you’re right. i’m not paying for everything. just the stuff that makes you happy. and this”—he waved his hand at your collection of bottles and jars—“obviously does.”

you felt your cheeks heat up, but you rolled your eyes to cover it. “fine, but i’m not letting you pay for all of it. maybe just the retinol.”

“deal,” he said, pulling you into his arms. “but i’m serious. next time, just send me the bill.”

you laughed, resting your head against his chest. “you’re ridiculous.”

“yeah,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “but you love me for it.”

“unfortunately,” you teased, earning a chuckle as he pulled you back toward the bedroom.

MASTERLIST

CURRENT TAGLIST⋆⭒˚｡⋆

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[sleep-0-deprived]

Could you do Dom! Yan teacher and Yan Bully fighting over a himbo reader?

Yan teacher vs Yan bully x male reader imagines~! ໒꒰ྀི˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ꒱ྀི১

Taglist: @yyuinaa @kimisbunny @asher-is-hotxp @silvern1006 @unstab1eperson2 @dewday1 @blond3ang3l @creepy141dollie @m4r13ll @ihavezeropancreas @sooobiinn @just-ignore-them @fuckingmxonlight @nightwinglover101 @chasingknives

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Jus imaginin you bein a star football player- bein all handsome N’ fit but a total dummy— as oblivious to your surroundings as ever and boy if the captain of your team didn’t let you know jus how stupid he thinks you are!…oh he’s plain O’l cruel, makin you stay after practice slapping you for your mistakes grabbing your ass N’ groping you secretly on tha field like he owns you- he loves havin you to himself N’ making jokes bout you infront of everyone else but boy if he isn’t totally smitten by you…he’s full blown infatuated to the point where it’s insane? I mean he beats you bloody jus to see you look at him all pathetic

Jus imaginin bein a total pet for your college professor, I mean all tha extra tutorin has you close with him is all? That’s just it right!..? But oh no he’s dead set you’re his pretty boy- his pretty baby N’ all you can do is sit wide eyed like a pursed puppy before him, gosh he’d eat you alive if he could- he’d squish you N’ grab you like a lil boy toy but he can’t with that big O’l meanie who’s always by your side, but boy if your professor doesn’t like playin your hero, swoop in an Savin that pretty jaw from his blows.

Jus imaginin your bully givin up bein sweet on you, he starts bein all mean again, punching you N’ gripping you tight makin your big eyes swell up jus so he can angrily try N’ make out with you— poor you bein all confused not even protesting when his flushed cock is in your face, his tip all mushroomed and leakin all over the shaft N’ pressing into your inner cheek— he loves the way you pout, all sloppy with your drool on the ground sitting on your knees is a picture perfect sight to him. Of course your professor finds out, he won’t even look you N’ your eyes after that!

Jus imaginin your professor givin you the silent treatment- gaslighting and tearin your pretty boy status down til your needy and apologetic practically beggin for his forgiveness- these two men were ruinin you- a once happy go lucky man bein twisted into a toxic relationship between two big O’l meanies…N’ why was riding your professors cock the only way to get his forgiveness? “Mh, sirr- are you sure there isn’t a’nother wayy~” your voice is whiny gripping onto his desk with lewd plaps fillin up the room havin his hand on your hip with your lips pressing together forming an ‘O’ shape while his hands rest on your hips liftin and droppin you on his cock havin your insides squished to his size.

Jus imaginin your bully findin out about you and your professor— seein your flushed face and your limp when you show up for practice, it doesn’t take a genius to see you jus took the fuckin of a life time an’ he was full of rage that he wasn’t the man that gave it too ya. Oh how your poor body never catches a break- you’re bent over in the locker room grippin for dear life while he jus grunts and huffs angrily in your ear like a upset dog, your rim burns from bein stretched too long N’ your inner walls are all bruised N’ slick still from your professors cock- he can feel it and he knows you can too.

Jus imaginin the two men tryin to be at each others throats when you turn away N’ playing all nice when you’re around, your bully bein all ruthless T’ you jus so your professor can swoop in N’ be your savior, jus thinkin your bully tryin to be nice f’ once when he sees how close you are T’ the professor—maybe if he sweetens up he can have ya. Your bully bein mean to you until he sees you tuck tail and runin to Him..oh boy if that didn’t make his blood boil seeing you all clingy to that dumb old man—

[suiana]

yandere! golden boy who is your loving boyfriend and... surprisingly loves listening to you talk about your interests! yes darling, talk about your games and novels and silly plushies! he loves seeing how interested you can get about things you're passionate about and it just makes him feel so warm on the inside.

you might even go as far to say he ENCOURAGES your interests. buying you plushies, taking you to exhibitions/places you want... you don't even have to ask, just one look with your eyes and he's taking out his card. yeah, it doesn't matter if you have an unhealthy attachment to that fat cat pusheen or whatever. you seem to really like it so he's buying that 400 dollar plushie for you.

on the same note... he can't help but get jealous when you're gushing over attractive fictional characters. SPECIFICALLY that ONE dude that you seem to have EVERYWHERE. on the wall, on your phone cover, lock screen, profile picture, fuck, even on your bed as a plushie! and all he gets is a meager nickname on his contact?!

"sweetie, must you... really have all these... THINGs of HIM?"

"he's my first husband, you're my second. of course i have merch of him. plus I'm not gonna just throw all these away, i spent big money on these ya know 💀"

he knows it's petty! he knows that it's just a fictional character and that he shouldn't be jealous but dude! you don't even have him in your wallet! it's that freaking guy!

so he does what evey sane boyfriend does and replaces some (not all just some!) of your merchandise with pictures of him and you. how adorable, right?

no.

"bro where is the portrait of my MAN🤬🤬🤬"

"i replaced it with a nice picture of us together darling☺️ look at how cute-"

oh. and you...you just put another photo of that guy again... oh... and you're ranting on reddit/instagram about how he's being mean... you also removed him from your close friends list... oh you... you also decided to kick him off the bed and onto the sofa... oh...

well no biggie! he has lots of patience and he will sneak in his presence into your stuff. he's determined.

"best friend I'm going to need you to cosplay as my favorite character please ☺️"

damn!

why didn't he think of that sooner? if you can't win the normal way, you should do it another way, right? he can just get you to see how much better he is and you'll eventually replace that fictional man for HIM!

...

yeah, that didn't work out as planned. now you're even more in love with that character and you're asking him to cosplay every other day. erm... at least.. your wallpaper is a picture of him cosplaying the character??? he'll take what he can get.

"lol best friend, did you see that video i sent you. it's so stupid."

"for the last time, sweetie. we're dating, call me boyfriend. and which one? I can't watch every single one of the 99+ reels you send me."

"a real best friend would watch them all..."

being with you has singlehandedly changed this man. for the worse or for the better, he doesn't know. but what he does know is that you DON'T know how to dress.

"sweetie, no. you can't just go out in a shirt and shorts! you look like adam sandler!"

"clothes are clothes 🤬"

at least he has a fun time dressing you up. you're like, his cute little rat! his very own personal dress up rat! oh how he wants to just keep you in his pocket and pick out pretty clothes for you, making you look like the cutest thing ever! sure you might take them off and just wear what you want but... at least he's got the photos and the sight of you in a pretty outfit ingrained into the folds of his brain already ☺️ and he'll take every chance he can get to put you into another pretty outfit again. that i assure you.

he... has ALSO found out that you are living on instant noodles, sandwiches, and the occasional takeout. you don't even open the curtains! how can you see in such a dark home? and why are you sleeping until midday?! dear oh dear. you really are a rat, huh?

"darling get up! it's 12 in the afternoon already!"

"i slept at 3 just let me sleep more..."

that simply won't do. he will not be allowing you to lead such a horrid lifestyle! not if he can help it! especially because... well, he's also your boss. from part 1, remember! yeah, you guys didn't break up at the end haha! you were just joking, obviously! not like you'll ever be able to break up. it's in the contract, silly.

"come on, get up. you need to have a healthy lifestyle. I've already gotten my personal chef to cook up a healthy meal for you."

"who's gonna stop me from living like this? you? 😂😂😂"

"yes, me. in our contract, remember? i will be responsible for your health from now till we die."

don't worry. he'll be by your side every step of the way. and hey, who knows? maybe you can even teach him a thing or two about gaming or something else you like! he's open to learning about the things you like.

and he won't even have to worry about you finding another REAL person to like because... well, let's just say you don't even like going out for dinner. we'll keep it at that ☺️

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚, 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓

╰┈➤ ❝ caleb x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : pwp (with plot; honestly more fluff-centric with a lil smut towards the end <3), mention of nightmares, comfort, kissing, cuddling, heavy petting, dry humping, praise, dirty talk, inappropriate use of evol (kinda), use of pet names "baby" "princess", + "pipsqueak" like… once. lmk if i missed any tags !

wc : 2.4k

an : AAAAA i gave in 😭 some of you may know that im a chronic nightmare haver and. absolutely nothing . n o thi ng !!!!!!!!! is going to stop me from writing fluffy smut with the love of my life JSNFBWHF (++ mildly inspired by @starmocha 's post, ily you keep me (in)sane <3)

taglist : under the cut! (SIGN UP HERE)

KO-FI JAR / COMMISSIONS

You can't sleep, but at least he's right there to help you.

"Caleb…"

It started with a soft nudge.

"Caleb?"

There was no reply.

Your head lifted then, momentarily leaving the comfort of the pillow… only to be met with stillness. You could feel a huff threatening to spill from your lips, ever indignant over moments of lack of attention from him—yet, the dark of the room reminded you exactly where you were. A glance at the clock on his bedside table showed you an hour you shouldn't be awake at; not normally, at least. And if that wasn't enough, then the silent, sleeping figure next to you would have proved it.

It wasn't fair to wake him up. You were the odd one out.

And, yet…

And, yet…

You pursed your lips.

A beat.

Two beats.

Three.

"Caaaaleeebbb…."

His name turned into a whine, and this time, you sat up, reaching to roll him over onto his back.

Thankful as you were of his general attentiveness to you, you watched a little wave of recognition wash over him.

"…Hmh? Pip..squeak…?"

A hand reached out to rub at his eyes, voice thick and raspy, the lower octave jumping out to you. And with that unfocused gaze, and those slow movements… He wasn't quite awake.

Sheepishly, you pawed at his arm.

"Sorry, can't sleep…" you mumbled.

"Mmm… That's a shame, 'cause I sure can…"

You looked at him with a frown.

Still asleep, my ass.

The lazy smile on his face contrasted with the droopy eyes his expression still wore, and yet, he was still clearly awake enough to tease. You knew he was only getting under your skin on purpose, but nevertheless, you wanted at least a smidge of comfort—you huffed in an indignant manner, reaching out to give his shoulder a little punch in protest.

At your motions, he laughed quietly.

"Alright, alright. C'mere."

He reached out to ruffle your hair, and there was a slight moment of pause. You watched him scan your figure—there was a sort of appreciation to it, a soft, fond gaze that felt a lot like… Home. And then with a yawn and a stretch, his arms tugged you closer to his body until you hadn't much of a choice but to roll over on top of him, his arms circling around your torso to gently hold you in place against him.

"Better?" he murmured.

You could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the little thrum of his voice as he spoke—it was a low whisper in your ear, still somewhat fighting the sleep from his tone, but just soft enough to lull you into a sense of comfort.

A small smile spread on your lips.

"Mhm," you nodded against him; "A little."

He allowed you to move and adjust yourself over him, legs resting neatly on either side of his waist, your body curled right into him with your head resting right above where his heart would be.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

You smiled.

He felt safe.

"...Only a little, though? What's up? Nightmare?"

There was a yawn to his voice, and slowly, you felt him begin to absentmindedly run his hand up and down your back.

In truth, he didn't need to ask. He knew you well enough—you were like this often; there weren't reasons otherwise to why you would be awake at this hour. And he knew, too—there would be no sleeping for you until you could forget whatever images you'd seen in your head just moments ago. You needed a distraction.

He would provide it.

You felt him nuzzle his nose into your hair, planting a series of chaste kisses, the pad of his thumb placing a little bit more pressure onto your back if only to reassure you that he was there.

That everything would be alright.

"Mm… Hard to close my eyes when I can still see it…" You sighed and tilted your head, chin resting atop his chest as you cherished the way his other hand had moved to gently stroke through your hair.

"Yeah? S'okay, I'll stay up with you." You could see the way the sleep had more or less worn off of his features, almost as if the only thing that mattered to him in the moment was staying alert enough to help you fall back asleep first.

It was kind of adorable.

Your eyes softened, enough to let out a playful roll of your eyes. "Aww, look at you being all warm and caring~"

"And, what? You'd rather I not be? Says the girl who's always come runnin' back to me after falling and scraping her knee at the playground!"

"Hey, that's different! It really hurt, you know?! You were there!"

"Uh-huh. And might I add you were runnin' from some supposed ghost of the swing set, just 'cause it wouldn't stop moving?"

"Ugh, don't you bring that back! I didn't understand the laws of physics yet! What else can you do when you're ten and not a science gal?!" The smug little smirk on his face was infuriating enough, and were you not so comfortably snuggled up in his arms, you'd have reached out to smack it off of him yourself. "I am not a kid anymore, thank you very much."

But if you thought he'd use your indignance to push your buttons a little further, to your surprise, his only response was a chuckle. His head leaned down to kiss the top of your forehead; "'Course I know that, you're all grown up now. Just… Where would you be without me, am I right?" He smiled, and this time, his hand slide over from the top of your head over to the side of your face. Gently, gently, he coaxed your head up a little bit, palm cupping your cheek with a little caress of his thumb. "Some things don't change. And since you are my princess, then I gotta give you the princess treatment."

Giggling a little, you shifted slightly to nuzzle your nose against his. "…Geez. Okay, I concede. 'Specially when you call me that."

"Princess? You really like that one, huh?"

And despite the laugh in his voice; despite the playful roll of his eyes right back at you, he leaned in to place a soft kiss on your lips.

One kiss.

Two.

Light, feathery touches that fall into soft, breathy laughs—

Another kiss, and then another.

Slowly, you found yourselves lost in a quiet moment of feeling each other like this, foreheads pressed together, fingers gently running through strands of hair.

So close— so… comforting.

"Feelin' better, baby?" he murmured.

And you realized that the pointless bickering, the little bit of reminiscing—all that he'd done by means of pulling you far away from your dreams and into the reality that you shared with him.

Because it was really, truly, all that mattered in the end.

Smiling softly, your gaze dropped back to his lips as you placed a little kiss to each corner, cherishing the soft huff of laughter that fell from his own.

"Mhm," you whispered. "Much, much better."

So close, so comforting.

You could look into his eyes—warm, and pretty, and so inherently him—and they would be the only things you'd care to look at.

"D'you wanna sleep now? Or…" There was a playful lilt to the way he spoke, and his eyebrow raised—you could feel him press your lower back a little bit more against him, the subtle way his hand dipped lower to rest upon the curve of your ass. You didn't miss the smirk that edged at his lips. "If you're not sleepy yet, I could think of a couple ways to make you sleepy…"

Typical Caleb.

You swat at his arm playfully, a louder laugh falling from your lips. "Caleb! It's, like, three in the morning! I though you were sleepy?!"

"Uh, yeah, I am. But clearly you aren't."

"But that's 'cause—!"

You caught the roll of his eyes as he leaned up to give you another little kiss, and then promptly gave you a look.

"Heyyy. It'd help you sleep, right?" he offered a lazy smile. "And I told you I'd help you. You're in a pretty ideal position too, you know."

You were used to being curled up on his chest like this, but now that he'd suggested it, you had to realize that he was right—and perhaps as a little test, perhaps because you couldn't help it, you gave a little experimental roll of your hips.

The immediate gasp was more of a reaction than you'd expected, and then even you couldn't help the knowing smirk from spreading across your features.

"Shit— oh, that's how we're doin' this, huh?" He spoke through gritted teeth, but his hands had already slid down to rest at your hips. "Gonna use me to get yourself off, s'that it?"

"You suggested it!" you shot back, "don't you take back your words!"

"Oh, don't you worry about that. No way in hell am I takin' back anythin', princess." Another lazy grin despite the firm hold he had on your hips, and he cocked his head to the side. "Well? Go on, baby, do your thing."

It was near embarrassing how easily he could have you dripping wet with just his words, with his voice, yet you knew with certainty that you could have the same effect—every tentative roll of your hips brought out such delicious sighs from his lips, and you could watch with glee the way his eyes would flutter shut. You'd never been more grateful for the thin fabric of your pajamas; the stiff outline of his erection pressed so perfectly against you that the barrier almost didn't matter at all.

"Caleb…" you gasped. You'd fall into him as the movement of your hips sped up, and you could already feel the messy slick that had seeped right through your clothing.

"Keep goin' baby, just like that. Lemme feel you…" One hand slid back up your body, dipping beneath your shirt to caress your skin. "Such a pretty lil princess. You like this, huh? Grindin' all over me like this?"

His palm pressed into your skin—more, he mouthed. Faster.

And you nearly cried as you swallowed your own moans against his lips, feeling the way his hands dug back into your hips, urging you, urging you, guiding your hips into a frenzied rhythm.

Mindless.

Needy.

"M-mmhf, not— mm—! N-not enough, need m— mm—!" You moaned between kisses, and your eyes nearly rolled back into your head as the pressure around you steadily increased.

You knew what he was doing.

The minute he pulled back from your lips to take in the dazed look in your eyes, lips nearly red and swollen, you could see the surge of pride flash in his eyes.

"C-Caleb…" you whined. The hold on your hips was nearly bruising, but it was nothing compared to the way he'd push you so harshly against him, practically digging the shape of his cock into the dampness of your clothing. Slowly, slowly, you felt the cool air of the night hit your thighs, your wet slick mapping over his cock as your pajamas slid down to expose your panties.

Your hands gripped tightly onto his arms—

He wasn't lifting a finger.

"Ch-cheater…!" You huffed. "You can't…! C-can't use—hnng— y-your evol, like…!"

He only chuckled. "No? You said you needed more, though. C'mon, baby… S'okay, I got you. Gonna make you feel so good."

You groaned, burying your head into his chest, allowing him to move your hips as he saw fit.

Every needy drag and grind of your clothed cunt right against him had you soaking his clothing, pushing onto him, chasing that friction. And now that he wasn't kissing you—now that he had his hands free to roam your body, to tangle into your hair, to feel you…

He chuckled, pressing his lips down to your ear. "That’s right, moan so pretty f'me. Lift your head a lil, let me hear you, baby. Tell me how good you feel."

The tip of his cock grazed your clit, and your nails nearly dug into him with a cry. "W-wait—!"

Obedient.

You lifted your head to look at him, but your gaze refused to focus. A blur of hazy pleasure had you panting, moaning incoherent words…

He wasn't even in you yet.

"C-Caleb, wait, I need… I need you, ple— please, please, just fuck me, I-I can't…!"

You shivered, feeling his fingers reach up to trail the side of your neck with ghostly touches.

"You really do wanna make me do all the work, huh…"

"N-no, I, I just…!"

"Wanna cum, right? Well, nothin' here to stop you, baby. C'mon… You can do it, I know you can. I'm helpin' you already, you know?"

Your chest heaved, and you knew he was right. Every movement had you nearly crying, your hips rutting against him and nearly jerking each time he would lift to grind up into you. The pressure from his evol made you dizzy, and you could feel the pleasure building, and building, and building—

Out of the blurry haze of your vision, you could see him give you another smirk, and his lips were back against your ear.

"Cum for me, baby."

He pressed you tight against him, forcing himself to feel you, groaning into your ear at the way your body shook with a pleasure so undeniable.

"There we go, there we go, that's it..." Soft murmurs into your hair, hands rubbing comfortingly over your back. And as the intensity of your orgasm slowly faded away, you felt him pepper kisses into your hair, his arms wrapped around you in a hug so secure.

You were aching, sensitive. He was right; you could feel the fatigue settling over your body, every heave of your chest slowly lulling you to sleep—

He wasn't about to let you.

He flipped you over within seconds, his eyes raking over your body so intensely that you keened under the drag of his gaze.

It didn't matter that you'd begun to feel a little sleepy; you knew he wasn't done with you.

"C- Caleb, you…"

He brought a finger down to your cunt, your slick gathering in an instant. He brought it up to his lips; gave a little bit of lick. "Such a mess. Ugh, sorry, baby, I think I won't be able to sleep 'til I get my fill… Let me stay up a bit longer?"

A press to your clit had you doubting the puppy-like gaze he'd given you, and you groaned—

So hard to resist.

"You're making this up to me in the morning…"

taglist : @darlingdummycassandra @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @cordidy @raiyuxa @xai-mery @pikachuzhc @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @hunters-association

an : that thing with the swing.. that's uh. that's based on personal experience. 😭

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[mywritersmind]

DONT CRY OVER SPILT COFFEE - LN4

summary : A horrible morning made worse by a man in a matcha colored hat, spilling coffee down her shirt and maybe ending up being the hero she needs for her final.

listen up : no warnings!! okay hiii i fell off the face of the planet for a sec lol! i’m fine and thank you for all your sweet messages! honestly i was just burnt out and have nooo ideas plus school and sports are kicking my ass. i love you all so much and hope you enjoy this!

words : 1940

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I try to steady my breathing as I bite back tears. It’s a small thing, really… I ordered a latte and they gave me a steaming hot black coffee.

I would have been fine, simply asking to return it if not for the horribly rude barista and my morning out of hell. So I give up and drag myself out of the little shop, opening the heavy door and promptly colliding into the man across from me.

I swear, loudly, this is the absolute cherry on top of the start of my day. I honestly expect him to run off and roll his eyes, but with tears in mine and hot coffee on my shirt, he rushes to apologize.

“I’m so fucking sorry- shit! I’m an idiot… Let me buy you another one, and a top. Honestly I’m so sorry.” The British man is rambling as I wipe my tears, something his green eyes widen at, horrified that he made me cry. As I blink away the tears, I'm immediately threatened with more because he’s hot!

“No… It’s okay.” I sniff, cursing the universe for making me act like a fool in front of a man this attractive. “I wasn’t even going to drink it.” People are staring at us now and the workers have already started to clean the mess beneath my feet.

“C’mere.” He says softly, taking my hand and leading me to a more secluded part of the cafe, “I’m really sorry.” He’s pulling off his flannel now, a plain white t-shirt now visible as he hands the red and white button up to me, “Please change, I feel horrible. I’ll get you another drink, maybe one you actually enjoy?”

I don’t know why, but if it was any other day, I would have brushed this off and left with no words. But today, I really need this. I nod, telling him my actual order, and retreating to the bathroom as he gets in line.

The shirt does not fit me. I’m wearing a denim skirt with it and it looks like I'm wearing a dress, but honestly I like the look. I grab my shirt and leave the bathroom, my skirt splattered with coffee and the smell still on me.

I sit outside, not wanting to be stared at by everyone who saw me inside. He’s back quickly, two coffees in hand and a guilty smile on his face.

Now that my eyes aren’t blurred with tears, I get a better look at him. He’s tan and freckled, curls sticking out from under his hat.

I read his name on the cup, “Bob?” I say, a bit more judgy than I meant. My latte is cool against my hands, my skin hot from coffee and embarrassment.

He sits across from me, laughing a bit, “No uh… I’m Lando.” I wonder if they got his name wrong and I'm about to ask how someone makes that big of a mistake, but he starts talking, “Are you alright? Something tells me this isn’t just about a spilled drink.”

I sip my coffee, instantly happier with the taste of vanilla, “Honestly? It’s just been a shit morning.”

He smiles softly as a biker drives past us, the sun beating down on my legs, “Want to tell me about it?”

“I really don’t want to bother you anymore…” I try to distract myself with the flowers next to us but my eyes find him again.

“I deserve it- not that you’re a bother! I wasn’t looking where I was going.” He blushes slightly, sipping his matcha.

“I really shouldn’t…”

“You can-”

“Okay so I’m a university student and for my final project in one of my journalism classes, I have to interview someone! Okay fine whatever it’s easy, I can do that! My professor is a massive bitch and didn’t even like my suggestion of interviewing my third grade teacher but whatever! I decided on it anyway even though everyone in my fucking class has like a million and one connections to insanely famous people so all of theirs is actually interesting!”

“Yours sounds interesting.” He shrugs.

“Thank you! Well, when I went to the school to interview her, I found out she’s dead!” His jaw drops, “Yeah! So now I'm just depressed because I loved that woman and I still don’t have a final. Plus just about everything went wrong while getting ready. I tore my favorite tights and lost my lucky bracelet, clearly, because I ran into you after this stupid shop got my order wrong!”

He’s smiling, looking at me with pity and a little humor, “That does sound like a lot.”

I bring my cup to my lips once more, breathless from my rant. Lando just hums, tapping his finger on the table, “Anyway I can help?”

“Unless you know anyone famous… and you’ve already bought me the correct coffee and listened to my rant, I can’t ask for more.”

“Well uh…” He bites his lip suspiciously, “I sort of do… know someone famous, that is.” My eyes go wide and my cheeks go red.

“No! I can’t bother anyone else, forget what I said.”

He’s smiling again, “Nope, you asked for it. I have a solution.”

“No… Lando I can’t.” He’s far too nice for someone I just met.

“It’s for your final! I don’t mind.”

“Sure you might not mind but the person I'm interviewing might!” At this, he makes a face. Somewhere between laughter and awkwardness. Then I have an overwhelming sick feeling as he starts again.

“You can interview me.” What the fuck have I done? He slides me his phone but my eyes are already squeezed shut. I hear him chuckle, “Y/n.”

“No no no.”

“Yes.” he nudges it against my arm as I slowly eye it. It's his instagram. His instagram with 9.4 Million followers.

I swallow, “I’m an idiot.”

“No. You’re just not into racing.” He’s right! I’m not. I’m really not! The photos quickly tell me that he is a formula one driver for McLaren. “Just ask me whatever you need. It’s not a bother.”

“Lando…” I feel like I've been dunked into cold water, and suddenly I realize that people are looking at us not because of my embarrassing mess, but because he’s famous!

“I’m not leaving until you ask.” He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms as if he’s on strike.

“You’re sure this isn’t overstepping- I mean I just met you and I barely even know what you do!”

“So then ask me.” He’s infuriatingly hot, his brow raised.

I hesitantly take my notebook out of my bag, uncapping my pen, and starting a new page.

My hand is shaking for some reason but the questions just flow out of me! He answers every one with a humble sort of confidence that makes me laugh.

In the span of thirty minutes, I learn everything about formula one and Lando Norris. Most of it is for my own curiosity but what I write down is all about Lando.

He’s quite charming and I wonder if he’s this open to every interviewer. “So you won something big…?”

He laughs, nodding, “Yeah. The Constructors Championship. It’s for the team, not really a specific driver.”

I hum, “But there is one for a driver…? And you don’t have it?” I ask bluntly.

He smiles slowly, “No… I was in the fight mathematically but we started too late. Trust me though, next year's mine.” He winks and it’s the first time he acts cocky and honestly sure of himself.

“Well… those are all my questions.”

“Oh. Well, This has been my favorite interview yet. I hope I was almost as inspiring as your third grade teacher…”

I laugh, sitting back in the wiry chair, “I think I might just pass this class and get my teacher to like me.”

“That won’t be because of me though. You’re a good journalist, I can tell.” His eyes are soft when he speaks to me, leaning forward and drawing my eyes to his arms.

Fuck how did I not realize he’s got that whole rich athlete vibe.

I take one last drink of my coffee, the ice sounding and my frown apparently, “Thanks again… I hope I didn’t ruin your day or anything.”

“If anything, you made it better. I’m not exactly the press’ favorite but I'd like to be yours, just so when you start interviewing more F1 drivers, you’ll see how amazing I am.” He scrunches his nose as I laugh.

“Right… Well, I should really get going.” Something flashes across his face as I go to stand, “Oh shit, your shirt!”

“Keep it. You look better in it than I do.” I narrow my eyes at his flirtatious words.

“Do you flirt with all your interviewers?”

“Only the cute ones who I meet with coffee down her shirt.” His smile is insane, I have a feeling I shouldn’t entertain this, that he’s just another big dick athlete who can get any woman he wants.

But then he tugs at his necklace, something he explained to me was his logo, and I wonder what the harm is in having one thing in my day go right.

As if he can hear my thoughts, he sits up straighter, “Let me take you out.”

I did not expect him to ask that! My cheeks go pink as I shake my head. Something tells me that Lando Norris doesn’t take the word ‘No’ very well.

“You can give me my shirt back then.” He grabs my pen from my hand scribbling his number upside down onto my page of notes. “Please?” His handwriting is just legible enough for me to make out the numbers.

“Did you just say please?” I let out a laugh, glancing down at the black ink.

“I’ve heard there’s some magic in it.” He smirks, “I’m not above begging you. Come on, what’s the harm in apologizing over a nice dinner?”

“You already apologized over coffee.”

“You really don’t want to go out with me?” He looks at me as if I've just stepped on his puppy. I try to talk, then shut my mouth and look away.

“I’m in university.”

“I never finished school.” I raise a brow at his words. “What? I thought we were just exchanging our schooling records.” He’s smirking again, “Come on Y/n…”

“You’re famous.”

“You will be one day.” I truly can’t believe this is happening to me, “You’re gorgeous, Y/n. And you have every right to turn me down. Just say no.”

He’s got me there and we both know it, “I’ll text you my final, maybe if I get full marks then i’ll say yes.”

He stands with me, “I'm very confident you will.”

“Good luck driving… or whatever.”

He laughs, “I’m really glad I spilled coffee all over you.”

I roll my eyes and start walking away, “Goodbye Lando.”

He calls after me, “See you soon, Y/n!”

[frownyalfred]

Since we believe the older Jason gets, the more he looks /acts like Bruce, if he attends a gala because of an obligation (i.e. Alfred guilt trips him and the others) how often does he get mistaken as his dad?

Does he take a little advantage and pretends with the more drunker socialites, and tricks them into donating to the lesser known charities that he knows get ignored and directly impact Gotham's poorer neighborhoods?

(Or does he just starts rumors to mess with them all about his dad's rich boy myth. He def makes shifts the hors d'eourves into almost small chilly dogs if he can)

"Mr. Wayne. There you are!"

Jason turned around, smiling wide enough his jaw hurt. With the slim-cut suit, the thin glass of champagne in his hand, and the angle of his shoulders, the whole move was practically a flourish. It was how Bruce did it, after all -- and frankly? It didn't feel too bad.

The true joy came, however, from seeing the faces of the two women as his identity registered. Their smiles tightened, but didn't disappear entirely. Not Bruce Wayne. Close -- but no cigar.

"Mr. Wayne is my father," Jason said, just a little lower than Bruce normally would. He let his eyes settle on the first woman -- blonde, thin lips, eyes narrowed -- and tilted his head, just a fraction. "But I get that all the time. It's flattering, really."

Was it?

"My mistake. You look just like him from behind," the blonde woman said, her strained smile returning. "Jason, yes? Truly remarkable."

Jason swapped his champagne glass into his left hand, holding out his right to her. "Jason Todd. And that's what I strive for at events like these -- remarkable."

The other woman laughed a little at that, breaking ranks with her friend. She was a little older, with more wrinkles on her face than she should have, at her age. A smoker, probably. "Jessica."

Jason shook her offered hand, giving her a smile. "A pleasure, Jessica."

"Anne," the blonde woman added, like an afterthought. Jason hadn't missed the way she'd avoided giving her name when they'd shaken.

Jason skipped right over that tidbit. "Are you looking for Bruce, then? I can point you in the right direction, but you might need to call a cab. He's at Wayne Manor tonight, unfortunately. A little under the weather."

If you can call three broken ribs and a concussion "under the weather."

"Oh, how awful," Jessica said, holding a hand over her mouth. She turned to Anne. "Did you know about this?"

"Of course not," Anne said, eyes narrowing in on Jason again. "Is he alright? It's not like him to miss an event like this."

Jason realized, idly, that was, in fact, Anne Regis. And that he was, in fact, standing at the Regis Charity night. Which meant Anne was -- in all likelihood -- pissed by Bruce's nonarrival. And disappointed in his replacement, if the way her lips pursed meant anything.

"Well, I'm sure he'll make the next one," Jason offered, shrugging one shoulder. Bruce's suit pulled a little, reminding him that silk and satin had less wiggle room than spandex and Kevlar weave. "Fear not, I did bring his check. And his checkbook, if the one he wrote wasn't...satisfactory enough."

It was telling, how Anne's eyes didn't light up at the idea of a larger gift. It meant that this event wasn't really about raising money -- it never was. It was about seeing and being seen. And Anne Regis had wanted to cash in on Bruce Wayne's presence, not his money. His social standing, his charm, his glamor -- not his checkbook.

"That's lovely, dear. What a thoughtful son." Anne glanced over her shoulder, indicating she was about to excuse herself. "Jessica, it looks like Roger is back. Why don't we excuse ourselves--" heh "--and say hello?"

Jessica gave Jason a warmer smile than Anne. "Stay sharp, kid."

"Tell Bruce I said hello," Anne said, with a nod that might have been charming, several decades ago. "We'll have to do brunch soon."

They left, disappearing back into the sea of people. As soon as they were out of sight, Jason diverted to the back bar, setting down his glass of champagne.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked him, taking the glass before Jason could even look for a discard tray.

Jason glanced at the impressive array of bottles, suddenly understanding why Bruce tended to stick to soda water or seltzer at these events. Every single word he'd traded with the women had been like a spar of its own. He needed to stay sharp. Sharper than he did, normally.

"Diet coke, lime, please," Jason said, digging into his pocket and pulling out a crumpled twenty. He put it in the tip jar, not missing the grateful spark in the bartender's eyes.

"Right away, sir."

[muwapsturniolo]

Cuteness aggression 🐰ྀི C. Sturniolo

“You’re cute, but stop fuckin’ bitin' me kid!”

⟢ Cuteness aggression, and that’s about it. Link to video this was inspired by is in the title!!!

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

She didn't understand why she felt this way.

She took one look at her boyfriend, and suddenly, she had all this energy bouncing around in her body. It wasn't like he was doing anything special, he had just come back inside from smoking and was now sitting at his desk playing some random game.

But for some reason, he just looked adorable.

His eyes were low and hazy, whatever strain of weed he smoked making him relaxed. He had on one of his larger sweaters and a pair of sweatpants, the clothes making him look so cozy and warm. He was manspreading as well, leaning back in his chair and mumbling under his breath.

She just couldn't take it anymore.

She hops off the bed with ease, her feet making a soft thump on the hardwood floors before she makes her way over to Chris. His eyes dart to her figure, her face being illuminated by the two monitors on his desk.

"Hey bab-" he's immediately cut off by the girl climbing onto his lap, a soft smile on his face as she nuzzles her head into his neck. He chuckles silently, kissing the top of her head.

"Few more minutes Bun, then I'm all yours."

She hums softly and cuddles up to him even more, attempting to calm herself down, however, it doesn't work. That energy still bursting in her body is at an all-time high, and it's all because he looks cute.

She couldn't handle it anymore.

She starts to pepper small kisses along his neck, nothing sexual, just showing her ever-growing affection towards him. As the seconds go by and her energy increases, the small and soft kisses become more aggressive.

She moves the kisses to his jaw, the smooching noises becoming more obnoxious, but somehow, Chris doesn't notice.

She uses this as an opportunity.

She goes back to kissing along his neck, trailing the kisses to his shoulder before sinking her teeth into his skin.

The action finally catches Chis's attention, his body jerking and head whipping towards her. She looks at him innocently, as if she didn't just bite him.

"Kid, what the hell are you doing?"

"Nothing..."

He can't help the smile of disbelief making its way across his face. "Nothing? You just took a bite out of my shoulder like a damn shark." She giggles and attacks his face with more kisses, cupping his cheeks and squishing them together.

"You're just so cute, and I can't help it! I look at you, and I just wanna-" She lets out a noise that sounds like a squeal and a growl. Chris scrunches his face up and tries to push her away, but it's no use - she's stronger than a toddler who has something they aren't supposed to have.

He eventually gives up, letting her continue the assault on his face. All he can do is sit there and take the love and affection his favorite girl gives him.

She stops her kisses and smushes her face against his, their forehead and noses touching.

"You look like that damn Spongebob meme you sent me," he mumbles, his hands finding their way to her hips. She ignores him and basically stares at him with heart eyes.

"You're so handsome, so cute, I could just eat you up!"

"I'm not cute kid- OW!"

He moves his face away as she bites at his nose, his headphones falling off in the process. He huffs and stands up, throwing her over his shoulder effortlessly. She squeals in shock and laughs as he throws her down on the bed. He crawls over her, keeping her pinned down to the bed.

"You’re cute but stop fuckin’ bitin' me kid!”

She smiles and wraps her body around him, pulling him closer and kissing all over his face once more.

"I just get so giddy and full of energy when I look at you, that I don't know how to get rid of it!"

Her explanation makes him smile, he knew exactly what feeling she was talking about - he often felt it himself.

He grabs her jaw, making her look at him. He can see the love in her eyes, it makes him feel warm inside.

"I love you," he expresses softly.

She smiles widely and plants a fat kiss on his lips, "I love you too...Can we get ice cream?"

[yumeka-sxf]

Well, seems like something that was just a theory before has come very close to truth...

Because of this major revelation, I wanted to take a deep dive into what we know about Donovan so far and how hints throughout past chapters could indeed indicate that he can read minds. While we still don't have concrete proof for this other than Melinda's word, I don't believe there's anything that discredits this idea, either. In fact, many things throughout the series support it.

First we have Loid's encounter with Donovan way back in chapter 38. I always found it strange that we never got insight into Donovan's thoughts throughout that whole exchange. We always get to know what characters are thinking, even without Anya's mind-reading support. It's not an uncommon storytelling mechanic in general after all, especially for manga. Yet, Endo chose not to give us any insight into what Donovan was thinking. I figured this was simply to avoid spoiling anything about what his exact plans and motives are for future stories (also why Anya was absent for this). But now it seems like this could have also been to hide the fact that he can read minds. If he can read minds, certain things he said during that exchange take on a more ominous meaning. For example, what he said below about how people can never truly understand each other.

It's been a headcanon of mine that the reason why Anya, and perhaps Donovan, were given mind-reading powers, stemmed from the desire for world peace...the idea being that if people could read each other's minds - in other words, always know what others are thinking and feeling, sympathy and understanding would abound.

We learn later on that Donovan had ideas like this even as a kid when he made a similar comment during his debate competition speech. He said that it's impossible to know the true intentions of others so people will forever doubt each other, thus war is inevitable.

We also have the little detail in today's chapter that Donovan did not have the scars on his head during Melinda's flashback (of course, he didn't have them as a kid in chapter 99 either).

Now this is totally my theory, but if we take Melinda's words as the truth, without any misunderstanding, then sometime in Donovan's adult life after he married and had a child, he was experimented on and was given mind-reading powers, perhaps by force but most likely by choice. Now that he has these powers, his laments about people not being able to understand each other are no longer true, at least not for him. Perhaps the experiments done on Anya were preliminary tests that he put together to perfect the mind-reading implementation science before actually doing it to himself. Again, totally just speculation, but not out of the question.

Then we have Demetrius...we learned in chapter 93 that Anya has trouble reading his mind.

If we put that together with Melinda's comment in today's new chapter, that Demetris also took note of Donovan being able to read minds...

...then perhaps Demetrius conditioned himself to think in ways that would make it difficult for his mind to be read, specifically to thwart the "alien" that's impersonating his father. I mentioned last time that I don't think Donovan is actually an alien, and that this description is the only explanation Melinda could come up with to explain his mind-reading powers. If this is true though, it really does make the Desmond dinner scene all the more telling...that throughout all those panels without dialogue, Donovan was absorbing the deepest inner thoughts of his family members (and again, no insight into his own thoughts, just like in chapter 38).

But if the "Donovan can read minds" theory holds true, then the most disturbing idea of all is that Donovan knows that Twilight is a spy. He knows that he's the target of Twilight's mission, and that Twilight seeks to thwart him. Not only that, but depending on what he's read of Damian and Melinda's minds, he knows that they're fond of Anya and Yor, respectively - people who are close to Twilight. Mind-reading powers in the hands of a child are one thing, but in the hands of a shrewd and power political figure...I'm both excited and anxious to find out what Donovan's next move will be!

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 10

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader manage to discuss the direction of their physical relationship between makeouts. reader isn't feeling comfortable at her apartment, so they plan their first trip together.

series masterlist

this fic is 18+ warnings/tags: d/s dynamics but not smutty, softdom!spencer/sub reader, mild pda?, hint at switch!spencer, they talk about sex/how r feels about her first time, making out, r has long hair, almost dry humping if you're standing several miles away, unresolved sexual tension, teasing/flirting. don't like? don't read a/n: yayyyyy hi guys!! no idea when part 11 will be out. I missed them. I love them so bad. they are my favorite ever. they are so special to me 4ever. hope u missed them and ur just as happy to see them happy as I am :")

“Do you like eyelet?” Spencer asks, reaching up to grab a set of sheets you couldn’t. He insists that you let him get everything from the top shelf because it’s been handled less. 

You shrug, distracted by the angle of his jaw and the line of his throat as he retrieves the plastic package. 

It’s Sunday. Three nights in a row spent with him—the longest sleepover streak thus far—and you don’t want to go back to sleeping alone tonight. But you know it’s time. Both of you have things to attend to tomorrow, and you’re not exactly in the habit of getting things done when you’re together. All weekend you’ve lounged in his lap on the couch or tangled yourself in his arms in bed—fully clothed, of course. Spencer had suggested the no-sex rule on Friday, and you’re glad for it. You feel no pressure to be doing more when he’s kissing you or holding you. 

Of course, the concept of having sex again crosses your mind—when you’re washing your face and catch a glimpse of the bruises on your neck in the mirror, or when the tips of Spencer’s fingers trace idly over a span of exposed skin on your lower back as you watch a movie on the couch and you’re struck with desire, or you move just right and feel a tiny lingering twinge of soreness. There was a time when if you had Spencer Reid to yourself for three nights, a Navy SEAL wouldn’t have been able to pull you off of him. Now, when you think about the fact that there will be a second time, you get that butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling—but you’re not sure if it’s good or apprehensive. 

Either way, it’d be too much right now. 

You do miss feeling that kind of closeness with him. That intimacy. It can’t be replicated, no matter how many naps you take together. Probably something to do with brain chemicals and hormones. He could explain it all, if you were brave enough to ask. 

So you know it’d be too much… but it’s not that you don’t want it. There is also, of course, the issue of the way he looks. It’s not helping your cognition. It’s not encouraging you to make good choices. 

You’re not supposed to be thinking about sex. You’re supposed to tell him if you like eyelet. 

“Yeah, I guess.”

Spencer gives you an exasperated look and sighs. He’s wearing his glasses today. His hair is freshly washed and fluffy. The navy blue sweater he’s wearing is about the only step between a button down and pajamas for him, and he looks good in casual clothing. You chew your lip. 

He doesn’t notice your ogling. “You’ve said that about everything.”

“I’m really not that passionate about the fabric of my sheets,” you defend, shoulders rising and dropping. 

“Surely you like some of them less and some of them more. Usually you jump at the chance to express an opinion.”

Okay. Uncalled for. 

He’s obviously kidding. You overreact anyway. 

“You suck,” you mumble, brushing past him in search of something suitable for your bed. 

Spencer processes this for a moment and then trails after you down the aisle. 

“I suck?”

“Here, look. Bamboo. That’s good, right?”

Your boyfriend glances at the package you’ve selected, probably holding back a whole host of facts about bamboo farming in China. 

“It’s fine. Why do I suck?”

“Because you implied I’m opinionated.”

“I didn’t imply it. It was an explicit statement.”You groan petulantly and put the sheets back on the shelf with force. Spencer picks them up and follows you deeper into the store. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“You didn’t,” you huff, turning around to face him once you’re safely sequestered in a new aisle. The store’s not busy—an elderly couple roams for fake fruit and towels, humming vacantly to the Muzak, and a single mom wrangles her kids in a cart. Back here, it’s just the two of you. “Not really.”

“Then what did?” He asks gently, stepping closer. Spencer’s not overly-affectionate in public, but the tone of his voice, the way he’s looking at you like he can see your thoughts, feels intimate. 

You’re helpless when he gets like this, and he probably knows it. It’s an abuse of power and when you can think straight again you’ll have to scold him for it. 

“It doesn’t even matter. You’re just gonna drop me off after this anyway.”

He tilts his head like a curious puppy, eyes alight with a good puzzle as he quickly strings together the facts in his head. 

“Is that it?”

You frown and hesitate, eyes catching on a loose thread at the hem of his sweater. 

“… No.”

“Yeah, it is. You’re upset because I’m taking you home.”

You scramble to deny. “That’s not it.”

“I think it is,” he murmurs, a smile playing at the corners of his perfect mouth. 

You study the waxen floor tiles intently. 

“Well… I mean, would that be weird? You’re gonna miss me too, right?”

You sound unsure—insecure, even. When you look back up at him, his eyes are melted chocolate, even under the fluorescents. He glances down at your mouth briefly and then over your shoulder. 

Pleasekissmepleasekissmepleasekissme.

He doesn’t, but you can tell he really wants to, which is almost as good. 

“Of course, I’m going to miss you. But we’ll see each other soon. Probably tomorrow.”

“Unless you get called out on a case. But it’s not even really that. It’s just—how am I supposed to… I don’t know! We just spent three nights together. How am I supposed to go back to sleeping alone for a whole week?”

Maybe you’re too attached to him now, because acknowledging the thought which has been lurking all morning opens the floodgates that were holding back a sea of dread, and you feel it in every inch of your body. Five nights alone stretch out before you like an infinite, impassable forest. Friday is an eternity away, and there’s no guarantee he’ll even be here Friday night, if the team gets a case. 

Spencer somehow regards you with both curiosity and innate wisdom, like you’re a new specimen in a familiar field, for a long enough moment that your cheeks begin to warm. 

“Sorry, that was embarrassing. I’m being weird, it’s fine—”

Just as you go to walk away, he pulls you carefully back in by the wrist, even closer than before. 

“No. You’re sweet,” he murmurs, hand warm even through the knit of your sleeve. Gingerly you look back up at him. 

“But you’re not gonna miss me as much as I miss you.”

“Do not undermine my capacity for yearning. I missed you when you were brushing your teeth this morning.”

“Ooh. So clingy,” you tease, though you’re obviously delighted by the information, and he borderline pouts. 

“Don’t say that. Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” you laugh as he pulls you to his chest, keeping you there with a hand to your back. 

“Okay. Now say you love me.”

For a moment you’re distracted by the proximity, the lowering of his voice as he brings you into his space and your faces are only inches apart. The smell of his body wash coming from both of you. 

“I love you,” you breathe, and it’s not as teasing as you’d meant for it to be as his eyes dart to your lips. 

Even though you’re bossy, is what you don’t say. 

This seems to please him, because finally, he’s tilting his head down and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. It’s still enough to make you lightheaded. 

“Apology accepted. I love you too,” he murmurs. And then he’s pulling back, trying to walk around you. “Do you wanna stop for coffee on the way back to yours?”

“Wait,” you order, suddenly listless and disoriented in the middle of the aisle. “You’re not gonna…”

Spencer frowns back at you.

“I’m not gonna what?”

“You’re not gonna… say it?”

“… I love you? I did say that.”

“No, there’s—usually when I do stuff you ask me to do, you say—”

Only when the first ray of understanding illuminates his face do you realize you actually shouldn’t have said anything at all. 

“Nevermind. Yeah, let’s just go.”

Spencer catches your arm again as you attempt to walk past him, laughing quietly as he leans down to speak in your ear. 

“I am not calling you good girl in the small decorative statues aisle.”

“What if we go back to the bedding aisle?” You ask, through the warmth of your own cheeks. 

It’s sort of a joke. 

“Remember what I said about appropriate context?”

“All those sheets, and duvet covers, and stuff. It’s basically the same.”

When he doesn’t respond, you gather the courage to tear your eyes from a little robot statue and look at him. Eyes ever-so-slightly narrowed, warmed only by a hint of humor. A barely detectable curve of the mouth. 

Oops. With all your blind-button pushing, you might’ve accidentally tapped the one responsible for all the marks on your neck—the one that makes him tick in a way which usually ends with you underneath him. 

And then, for the first time, you actually watch as he pushes it down—activates some sort of self-cooling system. Probably he understands that whether you meant to be provocative or not, this interaction isn’t headed in a salacious direction. Even if you weren’t in public, the rule is holding fast. 

His hand slides from your arm to intertwine with your fingers. 

“What are you doing next week?”

You blink at the sudden change in subject and tone. 

“Uh… I don’t know. Working, probably.”

“From home?”

“Yeah. Why?”

He chews his lip thoughtfully. 

“I… still have a few days of annual leave that I need to use. I don’t know if this is… this might be too much, and you can say no. But Rossi has a place in Shenandoah. It’s a cabin—it’s, it’s really nice, I’ve seen pictures. He used to use it for hunting, I guess now he rents it out in the summer and fall but it’s empty during the off-season and he’s always offering it to the team. It’s only like, an hour away. An hour and nine minutes actually, if you take the 66 Express outside the Beltway from Arlington. I looked it up, um… semi-recently. I’m sure he’d let us use it, if you wanted to come burn four days of leave with me. No pressure. Of any kind. I could also, just, y’know, stay home, and we could still spend time together that way. We could finish Deep Space Nine. Or watch something else. Or watch nothing. Whatever you’d like to do.”

Your heart rate has been increasing steadily since he started his impromptu speech—you’re glad he seems nervous inviting you. You’re a little nervous accepting. A trip together is definitely a new step. But getting the hell out of dodge with him for a few days sounds wonderful. 

“I’d love to go,” you say earnestly. 

Spencer’s face goes blank for a second, and then his eyebrows raise, like he wasn’t expecting you to say yes. 

“Oh. Oh! Great! Okay, I’ll—I’ll talk to Rossi about it tomorrow.”

He remains highly chipper as he hands his card over to the cashier for your new overpriced bamboo sheets. 

The promise of getting Spencer to yourself for four consecutive days and nights is the only way you’re able to fall asleep to a cold bed that night. 

It’s harder, at home now—you’re self-conscious of every and any noise. Music, cooking, talking on the phone. 

It doesn’t make sense, because you know you can’t hear your neighbors, so they shouldn’t be able to hear you, and Jerry’s a creep, who might’ve made the whole thing up just to get under your skin—but it’s all you can think about, when you’re there. 

Monday evening, Spencer comes to visit, as promised. You undo all the locks and open the door just enough for him to slip through. 

He kisses you hello as you close the door and sets his things down at the table while you relock. 

“No Jerry today?”

“Nope. I haven’t seen him since Friday.”

“Good,” Spencer says only once you turn, a distinct chill to his tone and a mostly unfamiliar frigidity to his eyes. It’s not directed at you, but it’s unnerving nonetheless, so you draw closer and wrap your arms around his waist—hoping to melt him back into your Spencer. 

He reciprocates, speaks softer now that he has you in his arms, and immediately you feel better. 

“Rossi said yes to us staying at the cabin and Emily said I can take the time off. Did you still wanna go?”

You’re pre-occupied with your face buried in his shirt, so you just nod, basking in the scent of his shower products once more. They’ve gone from simply comforting to intoxicating. 

“Is everything okay?” He asks quietly, brushing your hair over your shoulder. His fingers barely glance off your neck and you almost shiver. Want begins to pool deep and warm in your stomach as you lift your head and he looks down at you, so fondly. 

Want which you can’t afford to feel if you’re not willing to act on it. 

“I’m fine,” you breathe. Fuck. He’s too close. He’s too hot. You pull away and move to the kitchen. “Um, dinner. What do you want? We could make something. Or order something. I don’t have much, honestly.”

“I’ll be happy with anything. You sure you’re alright?”

“I don’t want to have sex!”

The words simply explode out of you, like a bat out of hell as you whip around. Just barely you manage not to clap a hand over your mouth in mortification. 

You stand, back to the fridge, watching Spencer nervously for his reaction. 

His brow knits. His lips part and close again several times. 

You’re wondering what the fastest and most convenient method of not being alive anymore would be when he finally answers. 

“… Okay. I wasn’t trying to initiate anything, did I—did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No! No, I’m sorry. I just… I wanted you to know that while I’m still, like, figuring things out—like, with my neighbor and everything—it’s just a lot, so… so I know this past weekend we agreed to not do anything and I think it would be best to… keep not doing anything. Just for now. I shouldn’t have said it like that—I didn’t actually… mean to say it. I was gonna, um, find a way to bring it up more delicately.”

You clear your throat and look down to study the patterned tile, cheeks burning. 

By way of several nervous glances up at him and back down, you watch Spencer silently come to lean against the counter across from you, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Okay. Thank you for telling me. We’re not ever going to do anything you don’t want to do. But, out of curiosity… is this just because of your neighbor? Or because you maybe don’t feel ready yet?”

He’s asking gently, because he wants to know, and you know there’s no wrong answer. It’s still nerve-racking.  

“Um… like, a combination of the two, I guess. Mostly… the neighbor. I think. But I’m telling you this because…” and here comes the worst part. “I need you… to… hold me accountable.”

“For what?” He asks plainly, but you know what he sounds like when perfectly suppressing a smile. The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your face as you close your eyes and forge ahead in the name of open and honest communication—something the two of you are trying to work on.

“If I… come on to you… you have to turn me down.”

This is not getting any less embarrassing. 

“Should I anticipate you coming onto me?”

“Probably,” you sigh, looking at him through your lashes and bringing your hands to your cheeks, hoping maybe they’ll cool you down and poor circulation will work in your favor for once. “I know myself. You know me. I like… asking you for things. But for the rest of the week, if I do… you know, want something from you—you have to tell me no.”

Spencer nods slowly. “What if you genuinely change your mind?”

“I won’t. I might think I have, I might even tell you I have, but don’t believe me, okay? I don’t think straight when I’m turned on, and if we do anything, I’ll like it until fucking Jerry is pounding my door down the next day, and I just can’t deal with that.”

Spencer’s face goes completely void of expression to the point that if it weren’t for context clues you’d have no idea he’s probably imagining pistol-whipping the guy. 

“Has he knocked on your door?” 

Testosterone. 

“No. Back to my point. I’m trusting you to keep me in check so I don’t do anything I’ll… I’ll end up regretting. Not that I regret the other night!” You scramble just as Spencer’s brow begins to furrow. “I don’t. I just regret that my gross neighbor had to get involved. And I don’t want that to happen again. So… is that… is that okay? Will you do that for me?”

“Of course I will,” Spencer says gently, without hesitation as he pushes off the counter. “Can I ask a follow-up question?”

You nod and regard the space between you, unsure if you want to eliminate it or keep using it like a buffer. By not coming to you, he’s giving you the choice. 

“You said this was mostly because of your neighbor. But you didn’t sound sure. It’s fine if you aren’t feeling ready yet. I just want to make sure I know what’s going on with you.”

“I don’t really know,” you admit, after a brief pause. “I feel like… as long as I know he’s on the other side of the wall I wouldn’t even be able to wrap my head around how I actually feel. It’s also confusing because, like I was saying, I… just because I feel like I want something in the moment, doesn’t necessarily mean I’m actually ready for it, you know? I don’t even know if… I don’t even know what being ready again really means or would look like.”

“You did the other night.”

“Yeah, but that was different. Because now I’m gonna think I know what I’m getting myself into, but that’s not necessarily true.”

Another pause in which you chew your lip and look away. 

“I don’t want you to overthink it, honey. I think being ready just means you’re comfortable, and you’re with someone who’s going to keep you safe, and nobody’s pressuring you, and you’re not, you know—pressuring yourself. Wanting it is actually really important, too. But what I’m hearing right now is that even if you might want it, you’re not in a place that feels safe. And that makes sense to me. So we’re just not gonna do anything until that changes, okay?”

Eyes still cast downward, your lips twist into a sardonic little smile. 

“I feel like I’m talking to my therapist.”

He laughs with a single breath. 

“I really hope your therapist doesn’t speak to you like I do. The ethics there would be highly questionable.”

The joke refreshes your courage and you look back up at him, smile still edged with humor but mostly unspoken gratitude. 

The half-smile on Spencer’s face, however, is fading steadily as he studies you in flickering passes. Like there’s something still on his mind. You were hoping for a subtle invitation back into his arms, but the space between you remains—infused now with a tension as it becomes increasingly obvious. 

“Also… this trip we’re going on. I feel like I should say this—I don’t know if it was even on your mind, but… I don’t want you to feel pressured to have sex just because of the timing. Me inviting you on a last-minute trip to an isolated cabin—it’s not a master plan to get you to sleep with me again, I promise. I really just wanted us to be alone. Not—not that kind of alone—I mean, we’ll be alone, but it doesn’t have to be like that. I was just thinking about how nice it was for us to get those three nights together, you know, and the whole weekend too, and with my job, that’s not always going to happen, so it just seemed like a good opportunity—”

“Spencer,” you laugh, letting the tension snap like a rubber band as you go to him, slinging your arms over his shoulders, delighted to be the one doing the interrupting and not the flustered rambling, for a change. “I know you don’t have an ulterior motive. As for what kind of alone we’re going to be… we’ll figure that out, okay? Don’t worry about me. I don’t feel pressured by you. I never have. If anything, I’m the one who pressures you for sex.”

You’ve got him smiling once more, as his hands find your waist and his gaze flips from your mouth to your eyes and back again. It goes very subtly mischievous in a way you don’t quite trust, but he’s dipping his head to kiss you, and something tells you it’s going to be a good one, so when your nose bumps against his, and you can feel his breath on your lips, you’re not at all prepared for him to speak. 

“Begging is not the same as pressuring, sweet thing,” he murmurs, and then he’s kissing you so thoroughly you don’t even have time to be properly affronted. The offended gasp gets stuck in your throat, and melts into a tiny huff as it turns out the kiss is a very good one. You can’t think hard enough to be offended. Not even when he chuckles against you. 

“That’s not fair,” you mumble when he allows you a second to breathe. He hums, satisfying himself with kisses to your cheek and playing along. 

“What’s not fair?” 

“You… I was supposed to have the upper hand in that situation! You were the nervous one for once!”

Another hum, buzzing against your lips this time. 

“You have to learn how to take the upper hand, angel. I’ve had a lot of practice. It’s a big part of my job.”

Admittedly it’s hard to think when he talks like this, but you try. 

“So… you manipulate me? That’s not very romantic.”

He laughs quietly again. 

“No. I do not manipulate you.”

“You’re just a control freak,” you tease. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, immediately, still soft-spoken as he pulls back to carefully search your eyes. “Does that bother you?”

You search hands and knees for a crumb of outrage, for a hint of any of that strong feminist theory you’ve instilled into your brain over so many years. 

There’s nothing to be found. 

“No,” you admit, dejectedly, hanging your head as much as he’ll allow. “Should it?”

“Only if you don’t like it. When I take the upper hand like that, I’m really just… posing a yes or no question. So far, you lean towards saying yes. You let me win. But you don’t have to.”

“What happens if I… if I don’t let you win?”

He angles his head, coaxing you to look in his eyes once more. A hand comes up to swipe a dot of mascara from under your brow. He’s looking at you so serenely, like none of this is at all complicated. 

“Whatever you want. I wouldn’t be the one making the rules anymore.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

You laugh nervously. 

“That’s a lot of pressure. What if… I want you to keep making the rules? For forever?”

He kisses you again, insistently enough you have to tilt your head back. When he answers, it’s low, a promise, and pressed right against your waiting mouth. 

“Then I will.”

You loose a tremulous breath from your parted lips and you know he can feel it. He can feel how you’re clinging to his shirt, pressing yourself closer, how your skin has warmed and your breaths have hastened, he can probably taste how much you want him, how you’re already thinking about giving it all up for him—

And maybe that’s why he laughs dryly into your mouth before pulling away. 

Because he’s a good boyfriend. 

Spencer knits his brow and clears his throat as his hand slides down your arm, eyes narrowed like he’s wondering how things escalated so quickly. You certainly are. 

Suddenly he’s back to the nerd you met in a coffee shop all those months ago, and you like him like this, too. “So… dinner?” 

“Mhm. Yeah. We should… we should definitely eat. What do you wanna eat?”

You don’t miss the quick once over he gives you. Or the way his throat bobs once he tears his eyes away. 

“Um… how does Indian sound?”

You swear you don’t know how it happened. 

Everything was going fine—there was food on the coffee table, a show on the TV. Spencer made tea. It was wholesome. 

And then, somewhere between setting the plastic takeout bag down and actually opening it, you ended up like this. Kneeling next to him on the couch, one hand braced on his thigh, the other tangled in his hair as you kiss slow. Like this could actually be leading somewhere. 

“We should stop,” he reminds you, even as his hand traverses up your leg. You lean further into him—he has to tip his head back to meet your lips. 

“We’re kissing. It’s nothing.”

“You were—” kiss. “Just telling me—” kiss. “That you don’t want this right now.”

Deep kiss. The grip he has on your hip does not agree with his words. 

“This is just kissing. Kissing isn’t sex.”

Even as you’re saying it, you’re throwing your leg over his lap, landing in a straddle. 

“No,” he groans as if pained, throwing his head onto the back of the couch and depriving you of his mouth. “Baby. You have to get off. We can’t do this.”

“My bathroom—we could—it doesn’t share a wall with his apartment, we could go in there and turn on the shower and we could be really quiet—”

Suddenly there’s a hand over your mouth. It’s not yours. 

“Please stop before I say yes.”

You pull his hand away, fingers wrapped around his wrist. 

“You should. You should say yes. It’s a good idea, I know he wouldn’t be able to hear us over the shower—”

“It’s not about that. It’s about the fact that you asked me to turn you down not even an hour ago, no matter what you say, and I said I would.” He takes a shuddering deep breath. “And… I’m going to. I’m saying no.”

“No,” you whine, head falling to his shoulder, because you know he’ll keep his promise. He cups the back of your head—a kind, sympathetic gesture, which does nothing to alleviate the heat of your blood or the ache between your legs. You pout into his neck. “This is terrible. I might not survive.”

“I think you will.”

“Maybe if I enter a coma.”

He laughs and strokes your thigh. 

“There are worse things than sexual frustration.”

“Not right now. This is the worst thing I can imagine.”

“I’m so sorry. You poor thing.”

You pull back to face him, hands on his shoulders. 

“Oh my god. Don’t act like it’s not bothering you.”

“I’m not bothered.”

“I know that’s not true. You know how I can tell?”

The slightest adjustment of your hips draws attention to exactly what you mean. Spencer goes completely deadpan. 

“Stop,” he orders in monotone, and you laugh even you allow yourself to be tossed back onto the couch because you’ve successfully flustered him again. He puts a throw pillow over his lap and leans forward, hiding his blush beneath perfect hands with a tortured groan. “You’re terrible.”

The couch attempts to suck you in as you wriggle back from a lying position, propping yourself up on your elbows and grinning at him. 

“I did it,” you gloat. 

He angles his head toward you, revealing half a pretty face, still dusted red but now with all the markings of inquisition. 

“You did what?”

“I took the upper hand.”

Those dark eyes narrow and before you can think to retract your legs he’s wrapping his hands around your ankles, pulling them over his pillow and leaving you flat on your back once more. Again you giggle. 

“You took nothing,” he asserts, but you’re not bothered—still smiling as you accept your new position and toss your arms above your head casually. 

“Somebody’s a sore loser.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Eat your curry.”

“Sorry, I’m full. From, you know, the taste of victory.”

He exhales a dry chuckle, leaning forward to finally retrieve the containers of food. 

“I can’t believe I ever let you call me a nerd.”

The rest of the evening remains PG. Conversation flows and trickles comfortably over dinner on the couch, and afterwards, he suggests a documentary. From the outside, it might not look like much—but to you, with your head on his chest as the TV casts its flickering, ghostly light over the room, with the beating of his heart against your ear and his breath against the top of your head, it’s everything. Six months ago you didn’t know what it was to exist so comfortably around another person like this. Now, though he feels familiar and safe, you don’t take it for granted. The novelty of something so simple is not lost on you, and you feel like the luckiest girl in the world as your eyes begin to flutter. You’re lucky to have someone you feel completely safe with. 

Spencer murmurs your name like a question.  It buzzes against your ear. You hum in response. 

His thumb fans lines over your shoulder blade. “Can I ask you about something?”

“Mhm.”

“The other night… we didn’t really get a chance to—to debrief, afterwards. Which is fine, you were tired, it was late. But then the next morning I had to go, and everything with your neighbor happened, and we talked about that a little bit, but… but earlier, it sounded like maybe you… I don’t know. Maybe you weren’t feeling good about how it happened?”

“Spencer, I told you I don’t regret it,” you remind him, pushing up from his chest to look him in the eye. His hand slides down your back. 

“I know… I just wanted to give you another chance to talk about it. In case anything was on your mind.” He frets over your hair, an invisible speck on your skin. Like he’s nervous. “And I want to make sure you’re feeling okay about how it went. I know what happened the next day was an unfortunate addendum, and I’m sorry about that. As soon as you give me permission, I will have him arrested. But I don’t want that to overshadow your experience.”

“It’s… not,” you breathe, fiddling with a button on Spencer’s shirt. 

“So how did you feel about it? Barring anything external?”

“Good.”

Spencer strokes your jaw with a knuckle, gently admonishing. 

“Don’t just say that. Think about it.”

“I have,” you assure him immediately, cheeks warming as you realize just how swiftly you’d replied. 

What a lovely button. Mother-of-pearl. The shirt is a pale lilac. It looks good on him. One of your favorites, actually. 

Spencer lets you pick at it. He would probably let you pull the button off, tear every stitch on the shirt with a seam-ripper if it helped to soothe your nerves. 

“I’m not trying to embarrass you, or make you uncomfortable. We don’t have to go into explicit detail. I know it still feels weird to talk about. But it’s something we do have to talk about.”

“I know. And I would bring it up if something didn’t feel right. But it… was…” you chew your lip as you think of a way to phrase it that doesn’t sound too mushy-gushy. “Overwhelmingly… a very positive experience.”

“You sound like Yelp review,” Spencer says through a smile. You attempt to smother the continual heat of your embarrassment against his shirt. He’s seen you at your most vulnerable, more intimately than anyone ever has before. And you’re still shy about acknowledging that fact. 

“Shut up. Say something nice back.”

With a typically gentle hand, he pushes hair away from your ear. 

“I…” he begins meaningfully, taking a moment to sweep your hair over your back. “Feel incredibly grateful that you trusted me to take care of you. I know that’s big for you, and I know it can be a really scary thing. Mostly I’m happy you’re happy. And that I didn’t mess up irredeemably.”

“What would you have messed up?” You laugh, retreating from your shelter against his chest to knit your brow. 

He makes a face in the half-dark like he shouldn’t have said it. 

“Uh… that… veers into explicit detail… and possibly too much honesty.”

You laugh again and adjust to frame his sheepish smile between your hands. 

“I see. You have to keep your mystique in tact.”

“I really don’t think it’s that much of a mystery.”

“Well, I’ll spare your ego.”

“Wow, thanks. For the first time in your life.”

You go in for a chaste, smiley kiss, which stays sweet and kind even as it melts into something stickier. 

It comes to a turning point and Spencer inhales deeply, gently angling his head away and shifting to check his watch. You collapse on his chest, catching your breath. 

“I should go.”

“No. I feel like you’re going away to war.”

“I’m going to Court House. Where I live.”

“What if I never see you again?”

“It’s twenty minutes away. So you could always just drive.”

You frown. 

“I hope you get trench foot.”

“You know seventy seven thousand soldiers died from trench foot in World War Two?”

“Obviously I did not know that.”

“Well, next time you should just say you want me to die. Up.”

He pats the back of your thigh and you push off of him, only after considering trying to hold him hostage for a split second. 

You hover by the couch like a ghost, watching with increasing anxiety as he gathers together the empty containers from your meal and throws them in the kitchen garbage before collecting his things. 

There is one thing—one potentially��difficult thing you haven’t mentioned to him that seems to be a direct consequence of finally sleeping together. 

You’re clingy. 

Clingier than you’ve ever been. It didn’t seem possible to want to be around him more than you already had, but now when he’s gone you feel his absence like a vacuous hole by your side. Without his warmth, you’re always a little colder. A little less comfortable. 

It’s embarrassing to admit that you’re starting to get separation anxiety, so you won’t put it into so many words—but you think, as he turns, slinging his bag over his shoulder with a knowing look, that he understands. 

At the same time, you begin to close the space, meeting gently in the middle, toe to toe. You keep your hands behind your back, afraid that otherwise you’ll try and glom onto him like a barnacle on a ship’s hull. 

“There are some things I’d like to get done this week so I don’t have to worry about them during our trip. So I might not see you for a day or two.”

Dutifully you nod, though you’re slightly crushed. 

“That’s okay. We’re grownups.”

“I don’t know,” he tuts. “I’m worried I’m gonna start writing my name with your last on all my notebooks.”

That stupid, stupid charm. 

“Mm… I’m kinda out of your league,” you grin. 

Spencer’s smile wanes slowly, but his eyes remain soft and aglow as they explore your face as reverently as his hands would. When he speaks, it’s in an honest, borderline whisper. “I’m acutely aware.”

Slowly his head dips, and your eyes flutter shut. A sweet, lingering kiss lands on your cheek. Then he’s pulling back. 

“That’s it?” You can’t help but ask, peering up at him and barely concealing a frown. 

He smiles that lovely smile, but by this point you’re attuned enough to his facial expressions to recognize the subtle heat playing just beneath the surface of those golden-oak eyes. 

“What? Did I give you the impression that I put out?”

“It’s just a kiss.”

That teasing edge becomes ever so slightly sharper as he regards you, head tilting. 

“Mhm. And the last time you said that—was it before or after you mounted me?”

You shoo him away pretty quickly after that—partly for discipline, and partly because the sooner he’s gone, the sooner you’ll go to sleep, and the sooner it will be tomorrow. 

And this trip can’t come soon enough, because you’re pretty sure you know exactly what kind of alone you’d like to be with Spencer Reid.

[seravphs]

battle of wills

Sae wants to act funny, but he doesn’t know you’re about to act hilarious.

wc — 2.7k

tags — romantic mind games, thinking of Sae like a predator that plays with his food, jealousy, possessiveness

“I don’t care who you fuck,” he says with a shrug. “We’re not dating.” 

Your hands still on the collar of his shirt that you’re smoothing down. It’s ten minutes before your dinner reservation, which means you’re going to be late, but you know the maître d' so it should be fine. It would be, if Sae didn’t insist on opening his fat mouth once a week to try to break your heart so he can prove to himself that he’s not invested. 

He’s not fooling anyone. You know you have him, hook, line, and sinker. When you made that joke about getting Kaiser’s number, it was just a joke. You didn’t even say you wanted to sleep with him! Sae came up with that implication all by himself. 

You have three options and only a few seconds to decide. Sweat beads on your forehead. You can practically see the timer run out, like an imaginary game with a big fat red buzzer letting you know you failed.

You can: 

a) say “we’re not dating?” in a whiny little broken voice and make it obvious you liked Sae more than he liked you 

b) sit in silence and make it awkward like you are currently doing 

c) fuck around and find out

So you only have one option, really. You’re not a coward, so it can’t be b, and you’d rather choke on your fancy steak tonight and die then ever let a man think he played you and got away with it. 

“Cool,” you say. “I’ll let Kaiser know he has your permission.” 

You’re joking, but you don’t think he is. 

“Cool,” Sae replies, but he’s so disinterested that you think he didn’t even hear the last half of your sentence. 

Dinner is great even though Sae is an asshole because he somehow still makes it fun to be with him. Your friends all ask you why you want him. They don’t see what you see; they think you’re just after the football fame, the fortune, the model like beauty. 

You’re a little more twisted than that. 

When you press your patent heel up against Sae’s calf, he doesn’t even flinch. He takes a long, slow draught of water - because he doesn’t drink alcohol, which is deliriously sexy to you for some reason - and raises an eyebrow at you. Everything about him is cool and collected, even when you inch higher and higher until you’re practically right between his legs. 

His hand slips under the table, grabs your ankle, and repositions it on his lap. He doesn’t spare a thought for how your dirty shoes are on his nice slacks. When you try to retract your foot because this is dangerous, this is not what you expected, his hand locks you in place. 

He holds your eye across the table. You wanted this, his eye contact says. Be good and take it. 

Sae is hard to read. 

He can be so apathetic, so indifferent to your words, and then draw warm, lazy circles on your pulse with his thumb. He looks mildly amused when your brain short circuits in the middle of your sentence, every neuron redirected to the feeling of his hand on your ankle, soaking in heat from his palm. 

You want to pull him apart and see what makes him tick. For you, love is almost like dissection. You want to be able to know him so intimately no one else will ever be able to say they come close. 

Although he apparently doesn’t feel the same about you. 

Knowing Sae is a rare privilege all in itself. You thought you were content. When you first met him, that’s all it was: fun. You liked pulling him apart and putting him back together, figuring out which parts of Sae were real and which were a front. But now, after a few months, you’re hooked. It’s become more than a game. It’s an addiction. 

The more he rejects you, the more you want him. 

You don’t think you’ve ever been this pathetic in your life. You’ve never chased anyone the way you’ve done for him. 

It’s killing you to think about the numbers he’s done on your reputation. Your friends already think you’re whipped. 

You’re afraid to admit they’re right, and that’s the real reason you’re upset about what he said earlier. You never thought you were dating but you thought - 

Ugh. You don’t know why you expected him to care. 

Sae is, if an asshole, also a gentleman, so he pays for dinner and sends you home in an Uber on his card. 

You smile pleasantly until you get into the car and then you’re practically tearing your hair out. You need to make him regret this. 

So obviously the question now is who would make Sae the sickest to find out you got with? Who would have that man holding his stomach in tears? 

Shidou is too obvious and also you doubt that Sae would care. In a funny way, Shidou is the least you can do to him. 

Oliver? No, he’s too much of a slut. This needs to be a hit and run, an attack, but targeted. Aiku is just too easy to make Sae feel anything besides mild annoyance that you fucked his captain. 

You’d have to butter Kaiser up before you even got near him, and besides, Sae didn’t even react when you brought him up earlier. 

Your brain flinches away from Rin’s face when it pops up in your brain like you touched a hot stove, a solid rejection you don’t even have to think about. 

No. 

It hurts too much. You’re angry but you still care about Sae. This is- 

You want to piss him off, not hurt him irrevocably. Dating Rin right after not-dating him would be something the two of you couldn’t come back from. 

Even if Sae likes to pretend he’s not sensitive when it comes to his little brother, you know better. 

Back to the drawing board. 

The most important part is that Sae can’t know you’re trying to make him jealous, so it has to come up organically. You’re aiming for a teammate because you need someone who will talk about it in Sae’s locker room, someone who can get it to Sae without making it too obvious. 

All paths lead to Oliver Aiku. 

Unfortunately. 

You don’t even know if this is going to work. 

“Just so you know,” you tell him, “you weren’t my first choice.”

“Aw, why?” He asks. “You don’t think I’ll get Sae mad enough?” 

“Are you kidding me? If anything, he’s going to think I’ve lowered my standards! He’s not going to regret losing me, he’s going to think that I’m so pathetic his little rejection sent me off the deep end!” 

“But then he’ll be right,” Oliver says. “Considering he did lower your standards and send you off the deep end. You’re standing in my living room right now, aren’t you?” 

You squint at him. “And I can walk right back out, so don’t test me.” 

“Don’t be like that,” Oliver purrs. “I’m great at making men jealous.” 

“I’m not sure that’s something to be proud of.” 

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I’m going to take you somewhere your man couldn’t even dream of taking you.” 

“Oliver, this is a Wendy’s.” 

“Sae would never dream of taking you here,” he shrugs. “Wow, good bite! You’re great at eating.” 

“Okay, one, that’s a weird thing to say, and two, I’m going to go find someone else if you can’t help me. I know you can’t help yourself but since I’m your friend, I thought at the very least, you would try not to waste my time.” 

“Yeesh, calm down-“ 

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” 

“My bad,” he says cheerfully. “Trust me, I have a plan.” 

“I don’t trust you,” you say pointedly, narrowing your eyes at him. 

He ignores you. “What makes a man angrier than thinking you moved on?” 

“Moving on with his rival?” 

“Close. Thinking he never had you. See, Sae takes you on these fancy dates to high end restaurants and museums and what not. But you know how he is. He’s with you but he’s not really with you. You gotta beat him at his own game. Let him think that you were just indulging him when really this is what you want.” He scoots his chair closer to you until you can practically feel the warmth of him radiating through his thin shirt. His cologne smells like jasmine, a strangely delicate scent for him. “Make him feel like he never really knew you, because I’m the one who does.” 

You breathe in the scent of his feminine cologne, stalling. It would be so easy to listen to Oliver. It would be so easy to let him in your heart. He knows what to say and when to say it. 

In a way, he does know you. 

Familiarity is unavoidable with time, and you’ve been friends of circumstance for ages. 

“You just wanted an excuse to take me to Wendy’s,” you say with a fake laugh that is so perfected, you can only pick up the stilted quality of it if you really, really listen. 

He pulls out of your space a little, a smile playing on his lips. “You know me so well. That too.” 

Oliver knows you a little too well. He says the right things at the right times because he’s telling you what you want to hear. 

Are you destined to be toyed with by beautiful football players? 

In the car on the way back to your house, Oliver texts you. “Get him back for me, playa.”  

In the locker room, Oliver doesn’t start the conversation because that would be too obvious. He’s a respectful man, he doesn’t kiss and tell. It would be out of character for him to start bringing up last night’s exploits and Sae would catch on instantaneously. 

He waits until Sendou, not subtly, tries to ask him who that pretty girl he posted last night was. 

“Are you sure that was a girl? Aiku never posts who he’s with. It was probably his sister.” 

Oliver doesn’t see who said that, but he doesn’t take offense. Again, he doesn’t kiss and tell. Whoever he’s with is a secret. 

He lets them simmer for a little bit more before he casually drops your name, saying it was just a friendly meal. Out of the corner of his eye, Sae stops putting on his shirt. 

“I’ll say,” Sendou says. “You took her to Wendy’s? That’s foul even for you.” 

“Maybe she likes Wendy’s,” Aiku says. “You don’t know her.” 

Although that last part isn’t really directed at Sendou. 

It’s rare for Sae to willingly open social media, but here he is, scrolling through Oliver’s story. Your face is never in any of the pictures, but he can tell. You’re- 

His brain stutters to a halt. 

You’re wearing the necklace he bought you on a date with another man.

There’s only one picture left in Oliver’s stories from last night, but of course that demon would’ve saved the best for last. It’s a simple shot. You’re sitting outside somewhere, under the stars. His hand is holding yours from across the table, your arm stretched out towards him. It’s the only one with a sliver of your face in it, the edge of a sweet, tender smile. 

Sae doesn’t fight. He’s not the type. But over you? 

He fights the only way he knows how. Through football. 

When Sae calls you after practice, you fumble your phone so hard it drops out of your hands and into the sink. You had fun with Oliver last night, but deep down, you didn’t really think Sae would care, as much as you wanted him to. It’s just the way he is. 

By the time you fish your phone out, it’s making strange noises and unable to return Sae’s call. You don’t feel like going out today after your wild night - crying onto Aiku’s shoulder through mouthfuls of French fries - so you resolve to pick a new one up tomorrow. 

Sae will wait. He’s very patient. 

Sae shows up on your doorstep within thirty minutes of your denied call. He lives twenty minutes away, if he speeds. 

Now he’s sitting in your living room, drinking water from your favorite mug while you squirm uncomfortably. He, on the other hand, seems content to sit in silence. 

“You hung out with Aiku last night,” he says. 

Now that he’s actually in the room, you feel like you did something wrong. It’s insane how much influence Sae has over you. He hurt you, but retaliation somehow feels like getting caught with your hand in a cookie jar. 

“Yes,” you mumble. 

“Hm? Speak up.” 

“So what if I did?” 

Sae raises an eyebrow. “Nothing. I don’t mind who you hang out with.” 

“Fine,” you say. “Guess I’ll hang out with him again. Since you don’t care.” 

His mouth curls into a smile behind his mug. That motherfucker. It’s ticking you off. He’s so in control of himself, so smug and pleased and - 

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” 

“You know, since you care so much- huh?” 

“Do you want to start dating?” He rephrases patiently. 

You stammer for a bit before you’re able to reply coherently. “I thought you didn’t want to.” 

“Did I say that?” 

“Yes,” you hiss. “You made it very clear.” 

“I don’t remember saying that,” he says and sets his mug down. When he stands, terror rises in you. He’s coming over. He’s sitting back on his haunches in front of you on the couch, eye to eye. “I just said that we weren’t dating. But I’d like to.” 

“You only want me because I was with another man,” you say faintly. You’re trying to act cute, playful, but you’re not sure it’s working. There’s not enough blood going to your brain. 

“You want me to beg, don’t you?” 

You can’t deny how excited that makes you. Part of it is the way he says it, his voice slow and measured, deepening near the end. Part of it is just hearing ‘beg’ come out of Sae’s mouth. 

“Okay, then. You don’t like Wendy’s.” 

God, you hate men. Who cares about Wendy’s? Why do they always argue about this? Oliver and Sae both-

“You like the places we go. You like,” he tugs lightly on your necklace in a way that stops just shy of stinging. “The way I spoil you.” He pushes you back onto the couch and leans over you. “You like the way I know,” his nose brushes over the carotid artery in your neck, “what makes you feel good.” 

“So I can beg if you want me to.” He’s all in your space, filling it up. All you can smell and feel and see is Sae. You feel paralyzed by his eyes. Devoured whole. “I can get on my knees for you and let you put a leash around my neck and promise that you can have anything you want from me. But let’s not pretend that you want anyone else but me.” 

Okay. So maybe you do care about Wendy’s. 

“Aiku thinks he knows you,” Sae says, his voice calm and easy. It’s like he’s laying out a mathematical formula instead of confessing his love, but it’s so Sae. “He doesn’t. I know you.” 

You whimper. 

Sae laughs dryly. 

You don’t sleep in your own bed that night. Sae drives you both back to his apartment, insists on brushing your teeth for you with the toothbrush he bought for you, and does your skincare routine before he tucks you into bed. 

You’re half asleep when he says, “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” 

“Huh?” You mumble, facedown in his pillow. It smells like him. 

Sae leans over so he can kiss your forehead. When he whispers, it’s directly in your ear. “You think you tied me down, huh?” 

You’re wide awake now. “Obviously,” you snap back, annoyed that he’s still trying to play these games. You know he’s not indifferent to you, you just wish he would- 

“No, dear,” Sae says. The pet name sends chills down your spine. “I trapped you.” 

[enhard]

⋆˚𝜗𝜚 steambound — park sunghoon

: showering with your boyfriend didn’t seem like such a bad idea, but he wanted it to take a different path.

pairing: bf!p.sh x fem!reader

cw: smut, fluff, praise kink, pet names, shower sex, fingering, handjob, unprotected sex, sunghoon is so slick but he’s a sweetheart ahh, creampie, the littlest bit of degrading (calling you slut once), aftercare, starts off as a normal shower together but..

ENJOY! (MDNI)

You’re lying with your boyfriend, Sunghoon, in his dorm room bed, lights dim and some quiet ambiental music playing.

“I love you” you hear him whisper, while you’re straddled on top of him resting your head on his chest. “I love you too, baby.” You softly kiss his collarbone.

You sit there in silence cuddling for a few minutes before you groan, lifting your head to look at him. He opens his eyes feeling that you moved. “What’s wrong angel?” You run your hands through his hair. “I need to go shower… but I might fall asleep first…”

“If you shower now, you can sleep even better.” he smiles a bit. “You’re right.” You slowly sit up, stretching a bit before getting out of bed.

You grab your towels and everything needed, and finally head to Sunghoon’s personal bathroom. As you get in the shower, you close the glass door and turn on the water. The hot spritz hits your skin, causing you to get warm again. The whole bathroom starts steaming, the gentle sound of the water circulating throughout the room.

After grabbing your shampoo bottle, you hear the bathroom door open, quickly turning your head towards it… as if you could see through the glass. “Princess it’s just me” you hear your boyfriend say, followed by the sound of the door closing behind him. You get back to your shampoo. “Oh hey, need anything?” you ask. He walks towards the glass door, sliding it open to look straight at you. It surprises you a bit but you just smile. “Could I join you?” he looks straight into your eyes. you look a bit stunned but ultimately nod. “Of.. course.. come on.” You both have seen each other naked before but you never showered together, there’s a first time for anything right?

He takes his clothes off one by one, placing them on the sink before getting in as fast as he can to close the door. The air was chilly outside the shower cabin, especially with how he opened the door so you got chills from it. He stands right in front of you, giving you a small kiss as the water hits his back. he leans his head back to wet his hair, running his hand through it multiple times. You just can’t stop smiling seeing your boyfriend in the shower with you.. something you never thought would happen today.

You stare at him a little bit more, especially his body as he gets it all wet, but after you just mind your own business, turning around and lathering your hair, scrubbing your scalp with your fingertips. “Wait, my love.” he says softly, making you take your hand away. He begins massaging your head, really taking his time scrubbing your hair to the best extent. You just close your eyes, leaning your head back to let him have better access.

“Why couldn’t we do this earlier… feels so good.” you say, smiling. He laughs a bit, insisting on scrubbing the back of your head. “Good thing we are doing it now, you like it?” he leans in to give your shoulder a kiss. “It’s so relaxing, I should try it on you as well..” you say. He moves you to the shower head, letting all that soap rinse off your head, protecting your face by putting his palm on your forehead like an umbrella. “Your hair’s gotten longer. So pretty.” he praises, and you smile. “Isn’t it a pain to wash?” he shakes his head. “Not when i’m washing yours.”

After he rinses well, you turn back around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you, let me wash your hair now.” he does a small nod. “I love you more. Let me get you my shampoo.” He says, leaning forward to grab his own bottle, handing it to you. You take it, spurting a small amount of shampoo into your palm. You emulsify before applying it to his soaking wet hair. You struggle a little to massage it real well into his hair, raising yourself up on your toes. “You’re too tall, I can’t reach that well.” you sigh, and he resolves it by sitting down on the small shower bench incorporated in the shower cabin. You easily have access to his hair now, so you continue scrubbing with your fingers. You get all in behind his ears, the back of his head and his favourite spot, close to his forehead. He lets out a few groans, the sound of the water blending into the background.

You continue smiling while insisting harder on it, circling around and moving back and forth. He closes his eyes, enjoying the feeling too much. “Never thought you would love this so much, baby.” you tease, and he bends his neck in all ways to get you to massage everywhere. “Why do you think I always fall asleep to your head massages?” he asks. “Oh that’s right. You’re so cute.” you smile.

You continue your massage for a few more minutes, and when you stop he whines. “Mm.. is it already over?” he pouts. “You can always get more, just ask. Now let’s wash up before someone scolds us.” you tilt your head.

He suddenly grabs your waist, pulling you towards him. He gives your tummy multiple kisses, getting closer and closer to your navel.

“You’re tickling me.” you giggle, grabbing onto his shoulders. He looks up at you, giving your abdomen one last kiss before standing up. He towers over you again, grabbing the soap you’re gonna use for your bodies. He lathers the soap in his hands, before rubbing them on your abdomen. He soaps up your stomach real good before moving up to your chest. “Can I?” he looks up at you. “Of course, can touch me anywhere.” you both smile. He brushes his hands over your nipples, gently cupping your tits. He plays with them a bit, not even being able to wash you like he swore he would. You look up at him as he’s absorbed in your tits. “Got a little distracted?” you laugh. He shakes his head, massaging them a bit before moving up to your collarbone. “My bad… it’s hard to stay focused when you look so attractive.” he bites his lip. “You’re so hot when you say that. You can continue.” and he nods. He moves his hand down your arms, immediately jumping to your legs. He kneels down, giving you a smile before tracing his palms along your hips. You smile back at him, grabbing his forearm. He leaves bubbles all over your thighs, making risky circles around your inner thighs. He moves down your legs to your feet. After he’s done, he makes you turn around. “Let me wash your back too.” he says.

He continues by lathering your back with more soap, scratching it for you. He moves down your lower back to your ass, where he grabs it without any warning. He squeezes it a few times, before moving his hand down your pussy, rubbing his fingers on your core making you jump. “Hoon… what are you doing..” you say, barely resisting his movements. “Let me make you feel good.” he says, rubbing them forward, reaching your clit. Your legs slightly part, letting him circle your clit the best he can. You let out a small moan, leaning your head back. He rubs his fingers back and forth again, stopping at your core to insert both his fingers inside you. You really moan now, grabbing onto the wall. He pumps his fingers inside you while squeezing your ass with his other hand. “You’re doing so well for me, princess.”

You shut your eyes, beginning to struggle on his fingers. “Sunghoon that feels.. so good. Faster… please.” he nods before picking up his pace, curling his fingers right onto your g-spot. You let out a screech, leaning your head forward now. “Right there… oh my… i’m—” you get cut off by another moan. He smiles hearing it, reaching to rub your clit again with his other hand. You’re shaking under his touch and he can’t help but get hornier as time goes on. It doesn’t take long before you reach the edge, trying so hard not to finish before warning him. “I’m..gonna.. cum.. please..” you cry out. He keeps his pace constant, allowing you to finish. “Doing so well for me, my love. You’re so perfect.” he praises. You bottom out on his fingers, grasping the cold tiles as hard as you can. Your shaking orgasm washes over you as he pulls his fingers out. “There we go, pretty girl.”

You pant against the wall, before slowly turning around to face him. You grab onto his built arms, squeezing his skin. “Let me wash your body now, that’s what we were doing, right?” you give him a slight smile while looking into his eyes. He stares at your lips, nodding.

You grab the soap again, lathering it in your hands before running your palms all over his pecs, down to his abdomen. You move your hands up and down, feeling every inch of his body. You move up to his shoulders, going down his arms, grabbing his biceps with every occasion. “You’ve gotten so built, no?” you say. “You like it? I’ve been going to the gym with Jay lately.” you raise your eyebrows. “Oh really? I should see you work out soon, then.” you move your hands to his forearms, then intertwine your fingers with his. “Would you be able to resist?” he teases. “Can’t promise anything.” You shrug your shoulders and he smiles.

You jump dangerously close to his v-line, tracing your fingers on the dented lines in his skin. “Are you gonna let me go lower?” you look up at him. “Maybe, if I hear you say please.” he caresses your cheek. You roll your eyes.

“Please let me give you a handjob.”

He stares into your eyes for a moment, then he just gives you a slight nod. You smile, already grabbing his half-hard cock. Stroking it, you can feel it getting more erect with each stroke. By the time he’s fully hard, you’re already picking up your pace, squeezing his tip every time you reach it. He stands there, juggling between looking at you and looking at your hand. The water hits his back once again, washing away all the soap you distributed on his abdomen. “Keep going.” he says in a cool tone, making sure you keep that pace he loves so much. You nod, smiling down at his swollen cock. You place your hand in his abdomen, feeling the strings of water running down his skin, now making contact with your fingers. You feel every muscle under his skin, squeezing at his pecs as usual. He lets out low grunts, licking his lips a few times. “How is it, baby?” you ask. He closes his eyes. “Feels good. Do think.. your pussy would feel better.. though..” he slightly whispers, his words getting interrupted by the sound of the water anyway.

“Oh yeah? wanna test that theory out?” you say, grabbing at his tip again and he flinches. “Fuck— yeah… let’s do it..” You both smile at each other. You take your hands completely off him, letting him do the work now. However, you see him just standing there.. actually waiting for you to do something. “…Well? aren’t you gonna throw me around, mr. strong man?” you say sarcastically, and he immediately pulls you into his embrace. He grabs your waist tightly as he gives you a small kiss. “Let me take care of you.” You smile at him, not expecting such an answer at this moment but.. your boyfriend has always been nice to you. “I don’t mind that either..” you say, giving him another kiss.

He uses his hands to slowly turn you around, tilting his head to pepper kisses all over your neck, wet sounds escaping his mouth with each kiss. He pushes you against the cold shower tiles, glueing your chest and cheek to it. He continues kissing your neck, to your back until you start whining for more. “Hoon.. please…. I need you so bad.” you say. He smiles before replying. “You’re so impatient.” He grabs your ass, fondling it before grabbing his cock to grind against you.

He teases your wet pussy multiple times with his tip. He stops right at the entrance, slapping your ass with his other hand while doing so. “Inside… please.. please.” you beg. He kisses your shoulder, slowly shoving it inside you as you go. Once he gets his whole length in, he stops for a few seconds to let you adjust, beginning to thrust only when he knows you’re ready. “You’re doing so well my love. You always take it so good.” he praises. You leave out little noises, really letting him feel your insides, spreading your legs more and more with each thrust of his.

He’s going slow, but deep. It feels way more intimate this way, with his nose so close to your ear, you can hear his interrupted breathing mixed with the sound of water. You enjoy it quite a bit, sneaking your hand down to your clit just to circle it multiple times. Your moans pick up their intensity, the sound getting overbearing even for the water. “You’re lucky we’re doing this in the shower, you’re louder than usual, baby.” he says. You nod against the tiles, arching your back even more against him. “Go faster..” you plead, and he does. He significantly changes his rhythm, making your thighs shake already. The sound of your skin slapping is getting enhanced by the wet environment, however you’ve both grown to love that sound. You start bouncing yourself on him, and he stops thrusting to let you do just that. You push your ass back and forth on him, wrapping around him so well.

He slaps your ass again, making you flinch. “Such a good girl for me, didn’t know you were this desperate.” he smiles. “I need you so bad.” you say, almost drooling on your own words. You speed up even more, grabbing the tiles with both hands now, putting all your force into swinging yourself. Sunghoon leaves out a moan, grabbing your waist with one hand. That sudden change caught him off guard, making him bottom out again. “Fuck, that feels so good. You’re gonna make me cum soon.” he says. You smile widely hearing that wishing for that as bad as ever. He moves his hand from your waist to your clit, his slender fingers exploring your upper folds, going forward to your clit again, rubbing, slapping and abusing it until you become a moaning mess as you fuck yourself onto him.

He leans forward, really pushing your body downwards into a somewhat doggy position. He grabs one of your tits with one hand, keeping his other fixated on your clit. “Already tired? Come on, keep going.” he speaks when he feels you slow down. “I can’t d..do it anymore..” you cry. “Oh really? my poor girl can’t whore herself out on me cause she’s tired?” he teases and you cannot stop moaning and shaking your head. “Let me lend you a hand.” he says, before successfully keeping you in place, before thrusting into you like never before.

He has a speed that he didn’t think he could reach, he’s fucking you so fast you barely have time to react. The slaps are so frequent you’re both surprised how nobody came to see what was going on. Must be better that way anyway, cause Sunghoon’s busy making both of you feel good. You finally clench around his dick, leaving out moans so hot its driving him insane. “Hoon… I need.. to ..cum..” you gulp. He keeps his pace consistent, breathing through his mouth already. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Be a good girl and cum all over like I want you to.” he leads you on. With a few more rapid thrusts, you finish, legs shaking under him. You thought you were gonna slip and fall, but he’s holding you firmly.

“Oh..God..” you whisper out. He smiles at you, getting closer to his release as well due to your constant movement. He pounds into you like an animal, barely caring about anything that’s happening around him. He always does this when he’s about to cum, making sure that you feel the most satisfied beforehand. He leaves out moans more frequently, his pace definitely getting more inconsistent. “Baby.. please..” he begs out not being able to finish his sentence. “Cum inside me… come on..” you say breathlessly. He follows your orders with no objections of course, coming undone with a few more thrusts. He grabs your hips tightly while leaving slow thrusts as he cums inside. He jerks his head back, closing his eyes in pleasure. After his high calms down, he pulls out, giving his cock a few more strokes.

You both breathe heavily, part of his cum oozing out of you rapidly. You don’t worry about it too much, knowing you’ll wash yourselves up anyway. The night followed with yet another round of a shower, a normal one this time, where Sunghoon really took his time making sure you know you’re loved, hugging you, kissing you, washing you up real well.

“I love you so much.” You look at him with admiration.

“I love you more princess. Now let me wash those breasts.” He says, focused.

“Hoon, you already lathered them in soap 2 times.” You giggle.

The night ended with lots of cuddles in bed, feeling so tired after two things that make you sleepy at the same time, showers and sex.

[rosegolden13]

Just imagining Ghost who’s not used to all these warm fluttery feelings for you, the medic that patched him up a few weeks ago. He’s had hookups and knows the thick power of lust well. The brief connection of bodies is familiar territory for him and that’s all he’s wanted. But this?

God, he’s fantasizing about holding your hand and blushing under his mask at the thought, the pillowy pads of your fingers pressed tentatively against the rough and veiny back of his hand. He knows the feeling would undo him, cause irreparable damage.

Yes, it’s pathetic but he can’t get over the way your gentle hands patched him up. No one’s ever treated him like that, so careful, so delicate. Like he was the fragile one.

He’s an insomniac but can fall asleep by imagining your soft, warm form cuddled in his arms. And for the first time, he wants more, even if he has no idea how to ask for it.

Meanwhile, reader’s terrified out of her mind cuz why is the scary lieutenant on base staring at her so much?!??? I love cliches so much. A rugged, huge man who’s all soft and flustered for you? Is that so much to ask??

[lightseoul]

a/n. inspired by a random ass comment on an instagram reel. thank you user @/agapita5. hope y'all enjoy whatever this is. (0.4k)

“‘m done, kats.”

you call out to the man as you exit your shared walk-in closet, thankful you’re in your frumpy pajamas instead of the flattering yet tight clothes you wore out the entire day.

from where he’s sprawled over his king-sized bed—decked out in lounge clothes that still make him look like a fucking model—you barely catch him as his gaze lifts from his phone to you, although you definitely don’t miss the way a massive smirk creeps onto his face when you emerge in front of him.

and as if that wasn’t enough, he lets out a low whistle. “damn.”

your eyebrows instantly furrow in confusion, and you can’t help but frown at him. “seriously?”

at that, his grin is gone in an instant, your incredulous tone making him frown. “what? i just said damn.”

“i know!” you exclaim, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious in your threadbare shirt. “where was that earlier today when i walked out in that ridiculously suffocating dress?”

“i complimented you, didn’t i?” he retorts without missing a beat, exasperated. “i told you you looked fuckin’ pretty.”

“yeah,” you pout, “but you weren’t exactly amazed just as you were a second ago…”

to your chagrin, bakugou doesn’t say anything for a while, your own eyes stuck to staring at the floor in a weird mix of embarrassment and disappointment. when you finally look up at him a moment later, though, he’s already only a few inches away from you, and you startle.

“shit,” you clutch your heart, “don’t scare me like that.”

that makes him snort. “you’re the one who wasn’t paying attention, dumbass.”

whatever response you were about to spew dies in your throat when he lifts his scarred hand out of nowhere and pulls you closer by the waist. your eyes widen at the sudden gesture, and the same smirk from earlier manages to slither back to his face at the sight of you flustered.

“you really wanna know why?” he whispers after a second, voice low and gruff.

you gulp, fighting back a shudder at the feeling of his breath against your skin. “w-why?”

“it’s because no one gets to see you like this but me, baby.”

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

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