#looks extra kissable

[zhansww]

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

💚SAM RIVERS💚

[zappedbyzabka]

Billy in the S5 bloopers

[apollorobin]

MASARU DAIMON FOR THE BINGO.

(if you haven't seen udg then korekiyo ig)

i don't know all that much about udg but decided to do it for masaru anyway!!! :D look at this sprite aaa he looks so sweet he is silly

thennn i did kiyo too!! honestly i never used to care for him all that much, he was pretty neutral to me but since joining tumblr and making friends that like him i have seen the light lol and i like him a lot now too!!! yayyyy

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

THE MOST BEAUTIFUL CREATURES!!!

Oh did you think I wasn't going to do a horse version fanart for @poorly-drawn-mdzs 's equineswap??? wrong and harmful that you would assume that actually . Hope you enjoy ♥️♥️

[paarksunghoon]

Jake finally taking you after months of uncertainty whether you like him or not. Pushing you against a wall, rough and passionate making out, and him being a softdom. Pleaseeeeeeee.

i imagined jake wearing glasses 😋 bonus points if the neighbors are heeseung, jay and sunghoon and they all hear jake fuck you lol

***

It all started with a stupid semester project.

Jake hates group work. He hates relying on people and he hates when his partners don’t complete their portion of the work. Jake thinks they’re lazy and good-for-nothing, even though he knows he’s being dramatic. He hates being the only person to contribute to the Google doc and he loathes it when the grade is dependent on everyone as a whole and not individually.

He meets you in Advanced Research Methods. It’s a required class for mathematical and physics majors in order to graduate, and Jake has pushed off taking it for as long as he could because he hates the idea of researching data with a partner. He knows the professor well enough to assume that there would be group work (he assumes correctly) but absolutely nothing could’ve prepared him from laying eyes on you for the first time.

When Dr. Kang announces the partners for the semester-long research project, Jake’s tapping his pen against his leg when he starts to hear names being called out. His ears perk up when he hears his own. When your name is said, Jake looks up and finds that you’re staring right at him.

You look so put together. Jake doesn’t know what it is about you that makes you look like you’ve got it all figured out. Maybe it’s because your hair looks particularly neat compared to all of the other people sitting around him. Perhaps it’s your laptop and notebook right next to it. Whatever it is, he finds himself a bit nervous to inevitably approach you in order to begin working on the project.

Dr. Kang allows the students to mingle and get to know one their project partners during the last ten minutes of class to exchange information. When you take initiative to walk to where Jake is sitting and occupy the seat next to him, he finds himself stuttering.

“H-Hey,” he says pathetically. You’re prettier up close.

“Hi! Jake, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Here’s my phone. Why don’t you put your number in.”

Jake’s hands are almost shaking as he holds your phone between his hands and settles with ‘Jake Sim - Research Methods’ as his contact so you remember him. When he hands it back to you, he watches you type away before he feels his own phone buzz.

Unknown Number: hi! it’s yn.

He saves the contact quickly before class ends and the two of you decide to wait until the next class to set a time to meet to work on the project.

Jake’s worries about group projects disappear when he begins working with you. You’re punctual, never a minute late when the two of you agree to meet after classes to work on it. You contribute to brainstorming sessions and crunch data numbers like you’re the best at it. Jake finds that he’s able to divide up the work evenly and sleeps at a decent hour because he doesn’t have to stay up late to finish an extra portion.

Your intellect is attractive to him. You’re able to explain difficult theories and statistical processes to him better than any professor he’s ever hard. Only, it becomes hard to listen to you talk because he keeps staring at your lips.

They’re so kissable. Jake wonders what they must feel like against his own. He imagines grabbing your face with his hands and planting one on you when you talk about SPSS but he doesn’t act on it, fearing that he may make you uncomfortable. Jake loves it when you start to wear shorter dresses and skirts because the weather is warming up. He likes seeing your thighs stick to the seats and watching you pull the fabric down to prevent flashing everybody.

As the months go by, he realizes he’s learned a lot about you. You’re not from around and you dream of working in astrophysics one day. You love the color green and you’re obsessed with tangerines to the point where he bought a bag just to present you with one at every session. You’re a night owl and you love all kinds of music except country, and you prefer coffee over tea.

Jake also knows that your body is gorgeous. Your legs look stunning in shorter skirts and your tits look beautiful when they almost spill out of your crop tops. He knows what your thighs look like when you sit and how your skirt rides up to accommodate the new angle you’ve put yourself in.

It messes with his head because sometimes, he swears you might like him, too.

You laugh at his corny math jokes and ask him to hang out with you on the weekends. You let him buy you coffee and meals when it’s late into the night. You let him walk you home and you even allow Jake to nap on your bed when he comes over to work on the project after long, hot days.

It all comes to a boiling point one Thursday evening when he’s alone with you in your dorm. Your roommate is gone until Monday and Jake is sitting on the bed whilst you’re sitting on the desk chair, stretching your arms above your head until your shirt rides up. He can see your skin and wonders how soft you must be.

For just a moment, Jake wonders what your bare skin would feel like against his palms. Your breasts look plush to the touch and he’d bet anything that your pussy would feel so amazing against his fingers and cock when you’re wet. He imagines sliding his dick in and out of your tight hole, pumping until he’s coming inside of you and making you messier than before.

But he regrets this thought because he’s half hard in his sweatpants and there’s no way to hide it.

“I, uh, think I’m gonna head back to my dorm,” Jake announces as he puts a notebook in front of his crotch.

“Already?” You turn around and pout at him. “But you got here thirty minutes ago.”

Jake shuffles to the door. “Sorry, Y/N. I think I’ll do my portion there.”

“Jake, I really need you here to complete my part. We’re supposed to turn in the second half of the report this week and I need your help to do it.”

God, you sound so hot when you’re asking him to stay.

He panics when you stand from your seat to approach him as he motions to open the door. The sound of your chair scraping against the floor startles him until he drops the notebook that’s been covering his semi-hard dick. You gasp.

“Are you hard?”

Bashfully, Jake sighs and tries to back away from you. “This I why I wanted to leave, okay? I…I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You look at his crotch and then back up at him. “Why are you hard?”

Jake’s face heats up even more. “I-I don’t know.”

“Jaeyun.” Your voice sounds so delicate saying his name like that.

“It’s because I like you and you’re wearing shorts that leave nothing to the imagination, okay?!” He sighs. “I’ve liked you since the second time we worked on the project because that’s when I knew I could rely on you. Everything else was just circumstance and now I need to go to my dorm so I can take care of this.”

“I can help,” you tell him. You say it just shy of confidently and he can’t tell if you feel bad for him or not.

“You don’t have to say or do anything. I already made this weird.”

You force yourself to stop looking at his cock. Knowing Jake, he’s too embarrassed to realize that your proposition is genuine and that you’ve harbored a crush on him since becoming partners with him too. So you muster up enough courage to press your lips to his and hope the message is clear.

Jake’s eyes widen against your mouth and you pull back after a few seconds to see the astonished look on his face. “I like you too, dummy. Have since you started bringing me tangerines after knowing me for two weeks.”

“Really?”

You nod. “Mhm. Can I kiss you again?”

Jake captures your mouth in a kiss the way he wants to—his hands grab your jaw and he pushes his lips against yours until he’s turning you. You feel your back hit the hard wall and gasp into the kiss, allowing Jake to lick your bottom lip with his tongue. The sensation dances across your chest and you gush out a stream of wetness at Jake’s urgency.

“Could’ve been kissing you all this time,” he mutters against your neck as he drags his lips down your skin. “Feel what you do to me.”

Without detaching himself from you, Jake puts your hand on his hardened cock and hears you whimper at the feeling. He coaxes you to squeeze him through the fabric and moans against your neck when you do.

“Such a good girl, listening to me like that.” He pulls away and pushes his hips into your palm. “I’m always hard for you.”

“R-Really?”

“You’re so hot, Y/N. You have to know that.”

Jake doesn’t let you respond. He grips your waist and pushes his plump lips back on yours and kisses you with fervor until your own lips have become swollen. The two of you emit breathy moans in the quiet of your dorm room and your free hand pushes Jake’s sweats down until his cock springs free. The hand around his dick collects the precum that has oozed from his swollen head and you smear it over his skin.

“Fuck me,” he moans to himself. “You’re perfect.”

“Your cock is perfect,” you choke. “So big.”

“Yeah? Can you spit on it for me?” You do as he says, leaning forward until a wad of it touches his slit. Jake smiles at you lustfully and squeezes your hips. “Good girl. Always so good, aren’t you? Makes me wonder how good you’ll be for me when I fuck you.”

“I’ll be so good,” you whine as you twist your hand up and down his length. Jake resumes kissing your neck and the electricity makes your pussy quiver. “I want you inside of me now.”

“Now? You think you’re wet enough?” You nod. “We’ll just have to see, now won’t we?”

Jake’s movements are hurried as he pushes your shorts down until they’re at your knees. You aren’t lying. You’re really wet. The cute baby pink panties you wear are soiled and he feels it when his fingers come in contact with the fabric.

The short whimper you let out is enough for Jake to short circuit. He doesn’t believe this is real. Even less so when you maneuver his cock until the tip it pushing against your covered core, gathering your wetness to coat his cock.

“Fuck, you really are perfect,” Jake whispers against you. He pulls back to watch as you stroke him while keeping the tip plush against you as if to coax him into fucking your hole. Jake’s mouth hangs open at the delicious sensation of the wet fabric against his cock head and decides you’re wet enough to take all of him.

He relishes in your gasp when he forces you to turn around. You push your ass towards him and Jake slaps your right ass cheek with his big hands until the sound reverberates in the room. Jake pulls your panties down until they join your shorts halfway down your legs and pushes his cock against you.

“How are you so fucking wet?” he mutters.

“It’s all for you.”

“Fuck yes it is.”

Without bothering to pull his sweatpants off, Jake uses his hand to slide the tip up and down your slit until you’re arching your back and clutching the wall to the best of your ability. The wet splashes make him even hornier and he pushes the head into you until you envelop him.

Slowly, Jake pushes into you inch by inch and holds you by the waist. He rubs your bare skin and coos at you when you wiggle your ass to get more of him. The pain feels exceptional. You can’t remember a time where you fucked someone as big as Jake and you don’t want to live without his cock inside of you like this.

Jake takes his shirt off to prevent it from obstructing the view of his cock disappearing into your pussy. He pushes himself inside of you until he’s completely sheathed and catches you by surprise. Jake silences your moan with a kiss to your mouth and rubs soothing circles on your waist, kissing you like his life depends on it while you get used to the new stretch.

He pushes his tongue against yours and uses the spit to coat his lips. You taste exactly like the pink lemonade you’ve been drinking all night and the innocent flavor makes his hips buck into you.

“Fuck me,” you beg. “Please, Jake. Don’t make me wait.”

He obliges. Jake fucks into you with all his might and his strong, muscular arms hold you in place as you push your chest against the wall and hold onto the door handle. The string of moans you let out is surely loud enough to let the neighbors know what’s happening behind the door but neither of you care about that right now. Jake wants to make you come and he’s slinging his hips into you from an upward angle, bending his knees to make sure his cock impales your g-spot.

“You’re so hot,” he moans. “I think about fucking you all the time.”

“M-Me too,” you confess.

“Yeah? What do you think about?”

“I think about—Ah!—Fingering me in class and eating my pussy.”

“Fuck yeah. I can do that for you.” Jake grips your hips tighter. “I can make you cum.”

“Make me cum, Jaeyun,” you plead, pushing your ass back. “I wanna cum on your cock.”

Jake pistons his hips into you until you’re parallel to the floor, holding onto the handle for dear life. He pushes into you so hard that you’re afraid you’d fall if it weren’t for his strong grip on you. Jake pushes and pushes, saving his orgasm until you come first.

It hits you like a tidal wave crashing over the shore. Your orgasm is long and drawn out as he keeps his brutal pace. Your release seeps from between the two or you and drips down his balls. Jake bites his lip at the tingling sensation and smacks your ass when you clench around him.

“Use me to make yourself cum,” you tell him. “Please, Jake. Please cum for me.”

“Say less, Princess.”

His orgasm follows shortly behind yours. Jake pulls out after five more thrust and pumps his cock until his cum spurts all over the globes of your ass. The warm, thick liquid feels so good against your skin that you push your bare pussy against him until Jake is letting his hot cock rest on you too.

When he regains his breath, he spots a roll of paper towels and gives your cheek a quick kiss before cleaning the both of you up. His touch is gentle, juxtaposed to his fucking just a few minutes prior. Jake cleans himself up before wiping the cum off of you and wiping your pussy gently too. He coaxes you to change into fresh undergarments and lets you collapse onto the bed with your eyes on him.

“I really do like you,” Jake says. “I didn’t say that just to fuck you.”

You pull him down and kiss him until all that’s left is soft pecks and the sound of lips smacking. Jake lets you pull away to lay on top of his chest and you feel him kiss the crown of your head.

“Sleep, Y/N. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

[ellecdc]

Hello, I absolutely love your work. I was just wondering if you could do something with animagus!reader x poly!wolfstar...? If not, that's totally okay. Have a good day 💓

I can never say no to wolfstar <3

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader who is an animagus [1.2k words]

CW: Remus chiding reader [lovingly] for not sleeping enough, Sirius having everything under control, fluff

“Hey Pads.” Remus let out with a sigh as he entered their dorm room, immediately loosening his school tie and dropping his bookbag onto his bed.

“Hey Moons.” Sirius returned quickly as he flipped the page in his book; sitting with his back against the headboard of his own bed and curled up in one of Remus’ jumpers.

“Do you know where your girlfriend is?” Remus asked, causing Sirius to snort.

“My girlfriend? When’d she become my girlfriend?”

“She’s your girlfriend when she refuses to eat properly and drink enough water, or get more than three hours of sleep ‘here and there’.” Remus muttered rather petulantly, though it was all for show when he felt his heart traitorously twinge remembering how cute you looked nearly falling asleep over your breakfast this morning.

✧˖°☾

“It’s breakfast dovey, you should be waking up now, not falling asleep.” Remus said to you as he massaged the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

You looked rather sheepish as you tried to shake yourself or your residual sleepiness and brought a fork full of pancakes to your mouth. “Sorry moons… Was up late studying.”

“How late?” Remus had asked with his eyes narrowed, causing you to wince around your bite.

“Erm…what time is it now?”

“Dovey.” 

“I slept for a little bit! Maybe…I don’t know, a few hours?”

“How many is a few?” He deadpanned.

“Three?”

✧˖°☾

He’d not been pleased with you, to say the least. But there was nothing he could do as the day quickly got away from him - between staying late after Herbology to get extra credit helping out Professor Sprout, grabbing something to eat from the kitchens before rushing to the library to tutor the first year Defence Against the Dark Arts students, and finally, his prefect rounds - he was only returning to his own dorm long after the sun had already set.

If he was tired, you must be positively exhausted. 

“Oh, I get it.” Sirius replied with a huff. “When she’s tired and teary, she’s my girlfriend, but when she’s dutifully doted upon, she’s yours?”

“Yeah.” Remus agreed quickly, smiling before moving to peck a kiss to Sirius’ extremely kissable lips. “See? You get it.” 

“Wanker.” Sirius muttered with a smile before puckering his lips for one more, and Remus gave him two. 

“Was she terribly teary?” Remus asked then as he went to shed off his uniform and find himself a jumper that either you or Sirius hadn’t pilfered from his pile yet. 

“Not terribly.” Sirius offered vaguely, causing Remus to make a sympathetic noise.

“But she was teary?” 

Sirius made a noncommittal sound as he continued with his book. “No worse than you after a few too many pepper-up potions in place of, oh, how did you phrase it... eating properly, drinking enough water, and getting more than three hours of sleep here and there?” 

“Prat.” Remus muttered as he tossed his uniform shirt at him, but Sirius - the bastard - caught it without even looking up. “Did you send her off to bed, then?”

“Sure.”

“Sirius.”

“Yes, Moons?” Sirius asked, looking up from his book with an innocent smile that Remus knew to be anything but innocent when coming from one Sirius Orion Black.

“She needs to sleep, Pads.”

“And I can assure you without a shadow of a doubt that she’s currently doing just that.” He responded simply.

“Yeah, how?” 

Sirius simply winked at him before looking back down at his book. “Trade secrets, Moons.”

“Sirius.”

“Oh would you just come over here, then? You sodding git.” 

Remus momentarily considered staying on his side of the dorm room just out of spite for Sirius’ cheek, but his interest positively piqued when Sirius finally placed a bookmark in the book he’d been flipping through and pulled at the collar of his jumper. Remus’ jumper.

“You’re gonna stretch the neck out.” Remus muttered, but dutifully moved across the room to look under Sirius’ Remus’ jumper to see that, laying between the soft fabric of Sirius’ band tee and Remus’ jumper was a small, long-haired calico cat sleeping peacefully with its tail curled protectively around its body and resting gently on its own nose.

Remus made an embarrassing tsking sound at the sweet sight and fought against the urge to shove his hand into the jumper in order to give you some scratches (which would only serve to wake you), opting to press a firm kiss to Sirius’ head instead. 

“See? Told ya I had it all under control.”

“You said no such thing, Sirius.” 

“Well it should always just be assumed, then.” 

Remus shook his head but didn’t bother to argue as he moved to the other side of Sirius’ bed and made himself comfortable. “So much for not being a cat person, hm?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Moons; I love cats.” Sirius responded haughtily.

“Liar.”

“If I didn’t like cats, why would I have one shoved up my shirt, huh?” 

“You don’t like cats, you like her.”

“Correction,” Sirius countered, not unlike one of his snooty little first years during his tutoring session, “I love her.” 

“I do too.” Remus agreed with a beaming smile. “I love you.” 

“Well I should hope so,” Sirius laughed, “I saved you from a category five over-tired meltdown for looking at her sideways when she complained how tired she was.” 

“Did you?”

“Of course not!” Sirius chided with a laugh and swatted him with his now closed book. “I have more tact and grace than you.” 

It was Remus’ turn to snort. “Sure.” 

“The trick was,” Sirius offered conspiratorily, “telling her I was cold, and asking if she’d cuddle me whilst I read.” 

“Devious.”

“Mischevious, some might say.”

With that, a little nose and a set of whiskers poked out from the collar of Sirius’ borrowed jumper to look at Remus expectantly.

“Hey, sweetness.” He offered quietly, holding his hand out which encouraged you to poke out only as far as your neck in order to rub against his fingers; tiny body vibrating with purrs.

Sirius shifted so he was laying on his back, only propped up by the pillows on his bed, and Remus repositioned himself to join him as he laid on his side to watch the two of you.

You left your neck poking out of the jumper, but Remus could see underneath the knitted fabric your little body flatten out again against your boyfriend's chest as you let out a deep, relaxed breath and closed your eyes once more. 

“Good job, Pads.” Remus had whispered a few moments later; watching as your shallow feline breaths evened out rhythmically. He’d been so focused on monitoring your breathing he hadn’t realised Sirius’ had evened out too, and Remus was left to close the curtains to the four poster bed and press a kiss to each of your heads - one human, one feline - before turning out the lights.

[luveline]

gorgeous can we get bombshell reader and Spencer May be the first time he’s snappy with her bc he’s stressed and she’s just so taken aback and May be even tears up? And then just a fluffy ending with Spencer apologizing

thank you for requesting! fem, 2.2k

Spencer Reid is extra kissable when he's frowning. Button up and no suit jacket, sleeves pushed past his elbows and hair on the shorter side, he holds a certain confidence in his hands where they're tucked in his pockets. Sure of himself, and clearly agitated. 

You're always on his side; you don't think twice about easing into the conference room to see what's wrong. 

"Hey," you say with a slight lilt to your tone. You're always on his side, and always flirting. "What's wrong?" 

"Why does something have to be wrong?" he asks. 

Not mean. Not light. Somewhere in the solid middle, his gaze loyal to the laptop on the desk he stands behind. You step close enough to smell the subtle scent of his cologne, wondering if he can smell your perfume in turn, and if it's one he likes. You try to touch his hand and he takes the desk into his grip instead, leaning forward, out of reach. 

"That's not what I meant to convey," you say, still flirting. You're not stupid, you realise his mood, but you're hoping it's somebody else's fault. "But if you aren't happy to see me then I'd definitely suggest there was something wrong." 

"I'm just trying to figure something out." 

This close, to your own credit, Spencer usually trips up. He's been getting better as you've grown closer, your 'torturing' —as the team likes to call it— only prompting the occasional blush or stammer. You don't flirt with Spencer to torture him no matter what anyones says and you never have, you flirt with him because he deserves to be complimented. He's andsome, intelligent, and courageous. What others might miss you see in blaring neon lights: he's a catch. You intend on making your intentions known, and if that means playing the long game or the slow burn, that's okay. You like to dance. 

You put yourself between him and the laptop screen. He can still see it if he cranes his neck, and he does. "You look a little tired, handsome. Looking at a screen all day will hurt you in the end. Neck aches, shoulder cramps, eye strain. Though I can't help with the latter, the former…" His arm is solid under your hand, your fingertips running along the ridge of a stark vein. 

He doesn't quite flinch away, but he moves quickly enough to startle you, lamenting, "Could you give me some space, please?" 

That's all well and good, you rush to do as he's asked and step back because the very last thing you want is to make him uncomfortable and his voice is frankly acidic, but everything is moving too quickly, you're not as aware as you should be —you smash your hand backwards into a cold cup of coffee and knock it straight into the lap of Spencer's laptop. 

"No," you gasp, grabbing the cup before the entirety of it can empty. Coffee wells between the keys and you go to grab it to– well, to do something. 

"Stop it!" Spencer shouts, voice sharp as a knife. "You always do this," —quieter, venomous— "you can't help yourself." 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I would answer you if I had the time. I'll be busy rescuing my hard drive before an entire month of work is wasted thanks to your dire need for attention." 

He slips around you and stalks out the door, coffee dripping from the corner of his laptop in a sorry trail that shines in the fluorescent lights. 

Your first rush of tears are driven by indignation; it was an accident, you didn't mean to do that, why would you ever do that? But the second, more encompassing rush is a hot mixture of shame and guilt. What have you done? 

You take a hesitant step toward the door but don't bother following him. I'll make things worse, you think, bringing a hand to your face. Makeup marrs your hand as you wipe your cheeks. You stare down at the stains for a long, long time. 

I'll apologise, you think eventually, rubbing at the mascara like soot on your palm. Just as soon as I look okay again. 

You don't want Spencer or anyone to see you upset. You wear your makeup and your confidence for yourself, not to hide any insecurity but to embolden yourself, to be yourself. But to get to your desk you'd have to leave the conference room bared as you are, and you'd have to face Spencer, and the second option brings more tears. 

This is all so messy, and it's your fault. 

I'm such an idiot. I'm exactly what he thinks of me. 

You sit in the chair furthest from the door with a pack of tissues from the cubby and rub your hot cheeks dry, streaks of mascara in the shapes of your fingertips like soot left behind. It's sitting that gets you —the shock of tears at being shouted at by someone you care about amplifies into a distress you can't explain. It's stupid, it's stupid. You press your face into your hands and curl in on yourself at the table, ears ringing. I'm so, so stupid. 

—

The inside of Spencer's lip is bleeding, metallic on his tongue. He's white hot annoyance all the way to Penelope's office, choked as he tells her he needs her help. 

"Spencer?" she said. "What happened? Are you okay?" 

He realises what he's done. "Please, Garcia, can you do something? I really need to go." 

He doesn't hear her response beyond her surprised but emphatic Sure, spinning on his heel to walk back the way he came. He rubs at his temple, moving between a slow trudge and a speed walk as he assesses the damage of what he's said. What did he say? your dire need for attention. 

Your sniffing is something out of his fucking nightmares. Who does he think he is? You're sitting exactly where he left you next to that half empty coffee cup, a tissue scrunched in your trembling hands, visible in the small glass window of the door. You must be thinking of what he's said to have missed the sound of his footsteps, or perhaps he's left you too upset to want to look up. 

He sees the moment a sob works through you, watches you hold your breath in a painful effort to keep it down, raising the tissue to your eyes and catching your tears before they fall. You're doing a lacklustre job despite your efforts, the oily shine of mascara iridescent on your cheeks. Or maybe that's tear tracks. It's hard to tell. 

Spencer fights with himself. He doesn't know if deserves to come running back or if it would be more fair to send JJ or Derek in to comfort you. 

"You made your bed," his mom would say, not without affection. "You have to lie in it." 

Spencer squeezes his eyes closed to push away the memory, surveying the damage he's done carefully as he crosses the threshold back into the conference room. Your head lifts at the sound of the door, your stammer visible before you speak, "Spence– Spencer. Is your laptop okay? Did I break it? I'm so sorry." 

Gideon would tell Spencer to be nicer. Hotch would say Reid in that stern shade of voice that's half disapproval and half fondness. They'd both tell him to be better, but neither of them have ever had to see you as you look now, tearstained and sorry, eyes wide with worry but shoulders tense. He has his role models, and yet none of them could possibly give him a way to apologise that could ever make up for they way he's made you feel. 

Little dramatic, Morgan would say. Start with a hug, loverboy. Can't go wrong with a hug. 

He should ask but he doesn't, a second transgression against you. Spencer pushes past chair and the sodden circle of carpet to your chair, pausing in case you're going to tell him to shove it. You lick your lips. "Did I break it?" you ask, as though resigned for a yes  

He can't temper that amount of self-hatred on you. It doesn't suit you. He much prefers you the way you like to be, confident in everything, flirty and funny and soft, in both touch and touches. He takes your face into a careful hand, tilting it toward the light and weary of your shallow exhale. "I…" He begins and ends, stroking your tacky cheek with his index finger, as though brushing away an eyelash. If it were real he'd say make a wish, and you would wish for him or some similar sweetness, salacious smile to boot, or earnestness fit to fill a mountain. I wish you'd realise how pretty you are and stop denying me the pleasure of a beautiful boyfriend, you'd croon. 

His fingers collect at your jaw and slip behind your ear as he cleans your skin with the side of his thumb. You lean into the touch, slashing his hesitancy in two. 

"Sorry," he says, pulling your head toward his neck gently as he leans down to hold you. "I'm sorry. Don't be upset, please. Don't be upset " 

"I'm an idiot–" 

"No," he says, with the facts to back his denial. "I'm an idiot, I should never have upset you like this–"

"I broke your computer, it's just like you said–" 

"I shouldn't have–" 

"–I'm so needy I could've ruined all your hard work," you say, wriggling with guilt like you attempt to pull away. 

Spencer really doesn't want to let you go now he has you, not until he's sure you'll stay in one piece. "If it's ruined, it's my fault for failing to back it up." 

He should tell you that he's sorry for what he said. He knew it wasn't right he moment it escaped him, to speak to you like that, and accuse you of what he did. He basically called you selfish, uncaring. He implied it and worse, and for what? An accident? A mis-step that he practically forced you into? 

"I never should've said that to you," he says, breaking his hug to crouch in front front you, searching blindly for your hand as he holds eye contact, looking up. You deign to frown down. "And I walked away. And you're crying," —his voice fries with sympathy— "because of me." 

Your hand is limp in his. "I'm sorry," he says. 

"It's okay." You sniffle and nod, lips struggling into a smile. 

"It's not okay." 

"Well, I hit your coffee over, so we're even." 

"You accidentally spilled my drink, you didn't deserve to be mocked." 

"Spence…" Your eyes half-lidded, you wince down at the cradle of his hand where it holds yours. "Did I break it?" 

"I don't know. I got to Garcia's office and I knew I did the wrong thing, so I came back." 

You swallow audibly. "I just wanted to make you feel better." 

"I know." He stands again as your eyes well with tears to hug you, kissing the top of your head. "I'm sorry. That was all me, okay? I shouldn't have snapped at you." 

What follows is agony. Spencer patting your back through a panicked bubble of tears, wretched in knowing he caused it, and worse is the look you give him as he wipes your messed up make up away in want of a mirror, like you're grateful. 

"Does it look really bad?" 

"N–no. You look really pretty," he says. 

"Are my eyes puffy?"

A little. "No. You look great." He can't apologise anymore– it won't help you feel better now, it'll just assuage his own worry. What you need is a different reassurance. "It's hard not looking at you, sometimes, you look that nice. But you know that already." 

"I don't mean to do that. I didn't mean to." 

Spencer puts his hand above your heart. "I know you didn't. I really, really shouldn't have said it. I was being cranky and I struck out like a kid." 

"...You're not just saying I look nice to get back in the good books, are you?" you ask. 

Spencer leans in, nearly nose to nose with you. "Of course not." 

You tilt your head as though you might kiss him. He knows you won't and he's delighted anyways. It means you're feeling okay. He's nearly forgiven, or, at the very least, you're not actively upset. "I thought I liked seeing you pissed off, but now I'm not so sure." 

"It's not a good look on me," he murmurs. "But it looks great on you, if you want to get angry with me."

"Well now I can't. I know it's what you want." 

"Can I give you a hug?" he asks. 

You drop all your acts and slide your arms around his neck. He wraps you up slowly, one arm at a time, careful to put all the pressure exactly where you like it. 

"That feels nice," you mumble. 

He bends into you and rubs your back. "Yeah?" 

"Don't," you warn. 

He draws a shape into your back with his fingers, slow, tiny things that make you squirm. "Don't what?" 

"You're tickling me." You don't sound unhappy about it. 

"What?" he asks. "I can't hear you over the sound of me being a huge jackass. Sorry." 

Your giggle is honey into his shoulder, sticky and sluggish as his circles turn to stars.

[moonymirah]

you loved catching megumi off guard.

watching him become a blushing, stuttering mess when you kiss him for the first time.

“w-what was that for ?”

it slipped past his lips faster than he wanted but you’d heard him wide and clear; the grin stuck to your mouth wide while megumi’s heart swelled at the sight.

“no reason. your lips just looked extra kissable.”

the answer was short and smug but soon the silent few seconds between you both had the pair of your eyes locking before you rushed to explain.

“i-i just mea—”

spotting the corners of his lips slowly raising, he started to gently laugh.

“ohhh... so normally, my lips just look kissable ?”

he’d got you and it wasn’t long till both of you were beaming.

in the end, it looked as though he was always going to have you be the one become a blushing, stuttering mess.

[vividxpages]

‧𓍢ִ໋☕ ׂ 𓈒 ⋆  the boy with the thick jacket and the cute accent *₊˚🍂୧

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Reader

words: 3700

summary: over time, Jace with his books by the window has become your favorite customer at the coffee shop you work at. The two of you quietly pine for each other, but when someone else tries to flirt with you, Jace’s jealousy finally gets him to make a move.

warnings: coffee shop au, meet-cute, pining, really just wholesome fluff, uncomfortable attempt at getting reader’s number (not Jace), first kiss

a/n: just something short and sweet for the cold weather outside! <3  I hope you’ll like it, let me know your thoughts!

⋆.˚🥧⋆.˚

There were many things you liked about working at the little coffee shop down the small alley overgrown with ivy.

The quiet yet busy atmosphere always made you feel welcome, surrounded all day by the smell of fresh coffee and tea, homemade cakes and biscuits and the steady stream of kind and appreciative customers who happened to stumble upon the little shop. The walls were covered with bookshelves and old-worn paperbacks stacked in them and the wooden boards creaked lovingly underneath your feet when you made your way towards guests by their tables.

There were many things that made you love the job, but none of them brought you as much joy as the curly-haired boy in his usual seat by the window, lost in his books and taking hours to finish his order.

The first time he had come in here, he had stumbled in from a sudden rain shower, his jacket dripping on the floor and his cheeks a rosy red as he stepped towards the counter, rubbing his hands together. You had turned around, rather busy in the usual stream of customers in the afternoon after uni ended, and there he was.

Dark lovely eyes, a mouth looking so kissable it made your knees weak and an angel-like face that seemed to be just as awe-struck as you were. You had stared at each other as if you were the only two people in the coffee shop, his glossy brown curls dripping rain while you still held an empty mug in your hand.

Hopelessly hit by cupid’s arrow.

“H-hi, what can I get for you?”

“Hi…”

You had to swallow down a giggle, raising your eyebrow at him. “Hi. What would you like to eat or drink?” You stood ready at the cash register, your eyes wandering to his lips as he opened and closed his mouth once again.

“Umm…yeah, I would like a…I’ll just take something hot please, to go.” The cute stranger tore his eyes away from you and fumbled with his wallet. A pretty blush crept up his neck “Whatever you recommend for me to have.”

My number then, you thought to yourself, but nodded in all seriousness as you tipped something into the screen. “The house’s special it is then, coming right up. What’s your name?”

He smiled at you then, nearly blinding you with it. “I’m Jace.”

Jace.

In your chest, little butterflies took flight.

As your colleague took over the line behind Jace, you got to work, giving some extra love into his coffee order as you drizzled some final touches of the good caramel on top and finally pressed a lid to the cup. The whole time, you could feel the boy’s eyes on you, not leaving you out of sight for once as he admired you.

Usually, you called out people’s names for their orders, but it wasn’t particularly full today and you could not deny that you had asked him out of curiosity. Jace still stood close to your side of the counter as you turned to him with a smile.

“Alright, Jace. House’s autumn special, I hope it’ll warm you up right away.” You told him sincerely and handed him the cup, your fingers brushing briefly and sending small lightning through you as he took it from you.

His eyes shifted to the name tag on your blouse before he paid up, sliding a generous tip into the little piggy bank between you. “I’m sure it’s amazing if you made it. Thank you.” He murmured your name as if he tasted every syllable for the first time in his life and as unexpected as he had come, he was gone and you wanted to melt into a puddle right behind the counter.

Ever since that fateful day, Jace had come back for more than just to-go orders. As the trees outside lost their leaves and the world was painted in red, orange and yellow, he mostly spent his free afternoons in the cozy seat by the window, his papers spread out in front of him on the table.

He was your most frequent customer and over time, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to his visits than just the good coffee and the occasional brownie treat he bought, especially when you sometimes caught him gazing at you and ignoring his homework.

By now, you knew what his order would be before he had even fully closed the door behind him or sometimes surprised him with a new little creation of yours in exchange for his honest opinion. (He always loved them.)

You liked the way he talked, a little flustered still but always happy to see you were there and how he always cleared his table so you wouldn’t have to, although it was your job.

You liked the way he could get lost in his books and papers for hours, biting his lip in concentration and absent-mindedly twirling one of his curls around his pointy finger as he took a sip of his warm drink.

You liked to know he was eating and drinking something you made, as if your slowly growing adoration for him could take root in his belly, filling him with warmth from the inside. He made you want to create and bake and become so much more than just his waitress for the rainy afternoons in autumn.

The nature of your timid relationship eventually began to change when he brought you flowers one time. You just had gotten out of the kitchen, a little flour still sticking to your cheek as you were greeted by a big bouquet which he held in front of his face. At your surprised gasp, he slowly lowered it and smiled at you, still blushing as he had on the day of your first meeting.

“I don’t want to hold you up, but the time I spend here is my highlight of the day and...this is for you.” He gingerly handed you the flowers over the counter and you almost walked around it and hugged him, a call from the kitchen stopping you from such impulsive desires.

But after the flowers, you both got a little braver.

You drew little hearts in the foam of his coffee orders and in return, your conversations became longer and longer when you had time in between rush hours. You sometimes recommended him books from the second-hand shelf in the corner and watched fondly when he was absorbed in the story the next day, your chest aching for something more with him outside of your working place.

But Jace seemed to be very polite, almost a little shy if the blush befalling him was any evidence every time you walked up to his table. And while you were desperately pining at this point, you were not brave enough yet to go beyond drawing little hearts on the boy’s coffee… 

One afternoon, you worked quietly behind the counter when a gust of autumn wind rushed into the café and a tall blond woman and two little boys walked in. Jace was sitting by the window, nose buried in a Donna Tartt paperback – he thought you did not notice, but you could feel his eyes on you from time to time – when he suddenly perked up and waved at them.

You watched them silently, nearly spilling milk all over the counter when you didn’t notice the glass for the milkshake was already full to the brim. His mom, you saw the familiarity now, kissed his cheek before he bent down and hugged the kids as they squealed in excitement to see him.

A giddy smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you turned your back towards the shop’s floor and got to work at the coffee machine. With practiced movements, you quickly made two hot chocolates and sprinkled a little cinnamon and chocolate rasps over the creamy foam. You took a deep breath and checked your appearance in the mirror over the big sink, making sure you did not look disheveled from your shift before you made your way over to Jace’s table.

As you got closer, you asked yourself if you were not too impulsive – surely you still had time to turn around? – but just as you were about to lose your bravery, Jace spotted you and his whole face brightened up, the dazzling smile you had grown to adore easing down your nerves.

“Hello.” You smiled shyly into the round and placed the plate in your hands on the table, the two cups steaming and adorned by two bowls of fresh cookies from the counter. “I thought the two gentlemen would like some hot chocolate, maybe? Ma’am, if I can get you anything-“

“Oh, there’s no need for formalities.” She smiled at you, a curious sparkle in her eyes. “I’m Rhaenyra, Jace’s mother. Nice to meet you.”

The little boys, undeniably twins now that you got a closer look at them, eyed you over the rims of their mugs. “Is that her, Jace? The girl you talk about aaall the time?”

“Ooh yes, the pretty girl, aaaall the time…”

Jace and you both froze, his little brother’s words leaving you speechless.

He…talked about you in front of his family? All. The. Time?

Rhaenyra looked between the two of you, noticing the awkward tension in the air and quickly saying: “I’d love to have a coffee with a little milk, thank you, dear.”

Jace still looked at you with wide eyes while his brothers peacefully sipped their chocolates as if they had not just exposed their older brother’s crush right in front of her. You opened and closed your mouth, face burning as you quickly nodded and mumbled: “Coming right up.”

The rest of your shift seemed to pass in a blur, your mind circling around what you had just learned.

Was there really a possibility Jace liked you back? Even his mother had been quick to dissolve the awkward situation and after you had brought her the coffee and Jace seemed to try to catch your eye every now and then, not really concentrating on the conversation at his table.

To get rid of the nervousness coursing through your stomach, you dedicated yourself to the little tarts in front of you, delicately placing small raspberries on the soft dough and decorating the top with small swirls of cream. The end result looked like little clouds and it seemed like your hands weren’t shaking as badly anymore now.

It was starting to get dark outside and there were still twenty minutes until your shift ended. You were the last one behind the counter this evening, only the nice ladies in the kitchen remained with you and most of the customers had left already. You sneaked a look to the window where Jace still sat, alone now again after his family had left, biting his lip and fidgeting as he looked outside into the rain. Would you just move on from this as if nothing happened?

“Hey, could you get me a coffee to go?” A guy you recognized from earlier visits grinned at you, leaning against the counter and a little too much into your personal space.

You nodded politely and grabbed a clean cup from the board behind you.

“And also your number if you’re on it, babe.”

You froze, staring at the cup in your hands. You had never liked this guy, he usually was brash and loud when he came in with his friends and he never left a tip, always demanding and impatient when his order took only a second longer than usual.

You started the coffee machine and looked over your shoulder. “I would rather not, thank you.”

“Aww come on, babe, I’ve been here so often just because you’re pretty, I think I earned it.”

You clenched your fists, the coffee trickling into the cup way too slow for your liking. “There’s nothing to earn, I just work here. And I’m not your babe.”

“Getting bratty now, huh? I think you just wanna-“

“Love, are you ready to go?”

Out of nowhere, Jace had appeared beside the douche, looking between your frozen form and the guy who now raised a confused eyebrow at him. You swallowed thickly, not knowing if you heard correctly. Love?

“Who are you?” The guy asked Jace, ignoring the coffee you now placed in front of him.

“I’m her boyfriend.” Jace said tensely, his dark eyes not leaving him. A warmth rushed through your belly at those words. “Is there a problem here? I don’t like the way you talk to her.”

“Calm down, dude, I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.”

Jace glared at him, his jaw set. “You don’t have to know she has a boyfriend to simply respect her. Get your coffee and go.”

Assured by Jace’s presence now, you calmly turned your attention to the guy and opened your hand. “That’s three-fifty. We’re closing now, so don’t have a seat.”

You watched with quiet satisfaction as he fumbled out a five and let it fall on the counter. You took it from him, smiling sweetly before you glimpsed into the cash register. “Sorry, we’re completely out of change. Bye.”

He grumbled to himself, throwing one last look over his shoulder before he left the café and the last bit of tension left your shoulders. Jace looked at you, scratching the back of his neck, grimacing. “I’m sorry. I knew you could handle it, but the way he talked to you made me so angry…”

You shook your head, smiling timidly. “No, thank you, really. He’s been getting on my nerves before. Maybe he won’t come back now, finally. Although it’s sad this was what it takes for him to leave me alone.”

Jace chuckled nervously. “I couldn’t think of anything else, sorry. And I also apologize for my brothers earlier. I didn’t want you to feel awkward…”

The butterflies in your stomach fluttered hopefully. “They were cute.” You said and searched his gaze. He looked at you the way he had on the very first day, awestruck and hopeful and so, so sweet. You bit your lip, adding quietly: “Did they…say the truth?”

Jace let out a shaky breath. “Yeah…” He told you hoarsely. “I…I’ve been thinking of ways to ask you out, but- I’m a hopeless case, it seems. God, I didn’t want you to find out through my toddler brothers.”

You laughed lightly, relieved to have your hopeful guess confirmed. “Well…my shift is over in about five minutes and I don’t have any plans. Do you want to get something to eat maybe?”

“I’d love that.” He smiled at you brightly and it brightened the room.

You made quick work at the counter as Jace gathered his things and the comfy looking jacket he had been wearing since the start of fall. When you were dressed in your long scarf and elegant coat, the two of you were ready to go.

It almost was weird, to walk and talk with Jace outside of the familiar environment of the café, but the two of you had no problem picking up a conversation, comfortably falling into a discussion about the books you had been reading recently and what he was currently up to at uni.

When you reached the big square of the town, you stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm. “Wait, where are we even going, I did not even ask.” You laughed, surprised how much time had passed already with him by your side.

Jace looked around the street, his dark eyes shimmering with the warm light the street lamp threw down at him. “Umm…there is a great pizza place nearby. They serve really good slices and also sweet mulled wine when it’s cold. We might be lucky tonight.”

“Sounds perfect.” You sighed, your stomach growling at the thought of some good pizza and followed him, barely resisting the urge to lace your fingers together.

The little booth tucked between two shops that were now closed was buzzing with life, the smell of delicious wine and fresh pizza filling the air and making your mouth water. Jace greeted the two men behind the counter and rested a careful hand on your back so you could step beside him and see what sorts they were offering tonight.

“You’re here often?” You chuckled as he nodded shyly.

“I’m not really good at cooking.” He replied. “The quattro formaggi is really, really good. So is the one with the cherry tomatoes and pesto.”

You nodded eagerly and fumbled with your bag, ready to get your wallet out, but Jace shook his head at you. “My treat, okay? You always get me such good pastries and cakes.”

“But Jace, you pay for them as well!”

“Doesn’t matter.” He grinned. “Why don’t you find us a table and I’ll get us some mulled wine and the pizza?”

Soon, Jace returned to you, two paper plates full with steaming hot pizza slices that were joined quickly by the promised mulled wine. The speakers by the booth played some easy music and over you, the sky had gotten dark and the air cool.

At your first bite, you groaned in delight and Jace cocked his eyebrow at you. “Good?”

“So good.” You agreed, eagerly having another one. “We should have this at the café! All the sugar and cinnamon are nice, but this? Thank you for opening the world of spices and vegetables for me.”

You laughed as he tried to break a cheese string between his mouth and the pizza off and the sweet wine only made you giddier to spend time with him. He asked you about your life as you ate and you told him the job at the café helped you to save for a professional training as a commis pâtisserie you wanted to start in spring. Jace listened to you intently, his eyes not leaving yours once.

“You have a little…” He lost the rest of his sentence, reaching out a hand and softly brushing some small crumbs of your pizza away from your cheek. Your heart skipped a beat at his careful touch, holding very still for him. “There, now it’s gone.”

“Thank you.” You said quietly, a little breathless. It had been some time since you had been close to someone like this and since it was Jace, you found yourself wanting to lean closer, to let his touch linger and blossom. “It’s nice, talking to you. I’m glad your brothers visited you today.”

You laughed together, both of you trying to hide your smitten faces as you took a last sip of the warm beverage. The plates between you had become empty and your heart sank a little when it was time to leave.

“Thank you for tonight, I…I like being with you, too. I’ll walk you home, if you’d like.” Jace offered warmly and looked down the road. He buried his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Will you be at the coffee shop tomorrow?”

You nodded, a warm feeling rushing through you at the thought you’d see him there, now that everything had changed a little. “You might get to have one of my famous chocolate fudge brownies if you’re lucky.”

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow as you began to make your way down the street. “Do only your favorite guests get them?”

“Oh yeah.” You teased, trying to stay serious. “Only the ones who save me from annoying guys and invite me out for pizza afterwards.”

You looked at each other underneath the light of a streetlamp, the two of you the only souls still wandering through the night. Jace stared at you, his plump lips slightly agape. He tucked a lost curl behind his ear underneath the hoodie and said sincerely: “Then I will do my best to hold that spot.”

“It’s already yours, Jace.” You said softly and then you could not hold yourself back anymore. You stepped closer and as the boy you had grown to adore so much exhaled shakingly, you held his face between your hands and kissed him.

Jace let out a surprised huff against you, but immediately melted in your embrace as he gently kissed you back, his hands quickly finding their way out of his pockets again to hold on to your waist. You smiled against his lips and sighed happily, your one hand wandering into the curls in his nape as the other grabbed the front of his hoodie.

You had no idea how much time passed as you kissed without a worry in the world. You welcomed his warm embrace as he held you closer, your arms coming to rest around his shoulders as the kiss deepened, his lips tasting of sweet wine and faintly of the waffles he had at the shop today. Your heart threatened to overflow with giddiness as Jace moaned softly into your mouth, cradling you against his chest and touching your soft hair as you kissed and kissed and kissed…

You didn’t know it yet, but tomorrow, he’d bring you another bouquet of flowers, roses this time and you’d spend your lunch break together and kiss some more.

In the following weeks, you indulged in cozy dates at restaurants Jace knew or simply stayed on his couch all night, cuddling and kissing and eventually falling into bed together…

In the next months, you grew closer and closer and you met his family again – “The pretty girl is back, now Jace can stop pining after you like a poet!” – and Jace supported you as you started your training however he could, which mostly meant he got to try all your little perfect creations and praise you endlessly for them.

One year ahead from now on, you moved into a cozy little apartment together, your home always filled with the love you shared and many, many books and baking goods.

You did not know it yet, but oh, how you were going to find out what it meant to love Jacaerys…

my taglist (open): @princesschimchim1325 @cecestea @jacesvelaryons @princessvelaryon @diannnnsss

[navybrat817]

Eye of the Beholder

Pairing: Bodyguard!Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Summary: Steve is your beautiful bodyguard and he thinks you're beautiful, too.

Word Count: Over 1.7k

Warnings: Bodyguard trope, fluff, tension, Steve Rogers (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: More Beach Fun Nonsense! Hope you lovelies enjoy. Anon requested for Bodyguard!Steve (who still does art) to dig his Toes in the Sand (fluff) with prompt #45 in bold. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You shuffled through your closet with an audible sigh. You had to make an appearance at a party tonight and still didn't know what to wear. It was ridiculous since you had a wide range of dresses and outfits to choose from, but your heart wasn't in it. Maybe because you didn't want to attend. You’d rather curl up and watch a movie as you fell asleep, but it was part of your job to socialize and look pretty.

You weren't going to complain when many out there had it worse.

“Why don't you get some rest instead of going through your closet? Again?”

You turned and stared at your bodyguard who sat across the room. With his short blonde hair and blue eyes, Steve Rogers was stunning enough to be a model. With his intimidating stature though, he made the right call by becoming a personal protection specialist. Easy on the eyes and built like a brick house, today he wore a tight blue shirt that showed off his broad shoulders and chest. He looked like the type of man who could toss you around if you asked nicely.

But seeing the sketchpad in his lap, you wondered if your paths ever would've crossed had he focused on an art career instead.

“You know you don't have to be here until tonight, right?” You asked, ignoring his suggestion as you shut the door. “Or do you like spending your time off watching over me?”

It wasn't your idea to hire a bodyguard, but you understood your agent’s insistence for you to have one. There were overzealous fans and creeps out there who wanted you. Ones who would stop at nothing to have you. All because you were a model. And while you weren't aware of any recent threats or danger, you needed someone like Steve to watch out for you.

Better safe than sorry.

But Steve himself? He was a pleasant surprise. You expected a stoic but polite man since he called you “ma’am” with the most serious expression upon meeting you. The more time spent with him, you realized passion lurked beneath the surface. Beyond that, he was authentic. In a world surrounded by plastic smiles, fake talk, and people ready to knock you from the pedestal you never asked to be set on to begin with, he was a much needed breath of fresh air.

“Technically my next day off is two days from now, ma’am,” he gently corrected you. You could listen to him talk all day. “But day off or not, I don't mind spending any extra time with you.”

“Oh,” you said, your cheeks hot. You spent days around gorgeous people who didn't make you bat an eye or stutter, but any sort of compliment or kind word from this man always got to you. “Hey, haven't I told you not to call me ma’am?”

“You have. On more than one occasion over the last couple of months.” A smile touched his kissable lips. “I guess it slipped my mind.”

You leveled him with a cool gaze. “So, your eidetic memory is limited to visual aspects and not auditory memories?’ You asked.

His face lit up when he smiled. “You remembered that I have an eidetic memory?”

You pointed a finger at him. “Keep calling me ma’am and you’ll be out of a job,” you said, deflecting from his question.

He chuckled, not at all afraid of your threat. “You won't fire me,” he said.

It was true. Steve had lasted longer than you expected because you liked him. More than that, you trusted him. He was the kind of man who would lay down his life for you and also keep your secrets safe. Not that you had many, but you wouldn't hesitate to tell him anything.

Anything except how your thoughts about Steve were sometimes unprofessional.

“I guess I won't, but don't think I won't make you carry my clutch around if you keep that up,” you teased, taking a seat on the edge of your bed. Steve has been in your room countless times and it always felt a bit warmer with him there. “On that note, I’m sorry you have to go to the party tonight.”

At least you didn't have to bring a fake date. Lord, you couldn't stand PR stunts like that. You didn't judge those in the industry who did it since you understood why. It just wasn't for you.

Would Steve have been jealous if you did? Or would he have insisted that you go alone for your safety?

“Don't apologize. Where you go, I go,” he assured you, your heart swelling. You reminded yourself that it was his job to do that and nothing more. “Just give me the signal when you want to leave.”

Steve didn't just keep an eye on you for protection, but looked out for your well-being. He made sure you got rest when you were tired, food when you were hungry, and privacy when the crowd became too much. Your past boyfriends never paid attention or cared that much. Why was a bodyguard so concerned?

“Do you ever get tired of this?” You asked, leaning back on your hands as you regarded him. “Keeping an eye on me? Going where I'm going?”

He stopped sketching to look at you, his eyes sparkling with affection that you liked to imagine he reserved for only a select few. “I say with complete sincerity that not only am I not tired of being your bodyguard, but you’re the best client I’ve ever had the privilege of protecting.”

You were certain stars shone in your eyes. “You flatter me, Steve.”

“I only speak the truth.”

You covered your mouth when you yawned. “Flattery. Truth. You’re still good to me and I appreciate it.”

Steve sat up straight and put his pencil down, concern etched in his face. “You’re tired. I think you should take a quick nap while you can.”

The man had a bossy tendency at times, but it was for your own good. You waved him off anyway. You could sleep later tonight. It wasn't that big of a deal. “What are you drawing?” You asked.

“Take a nap,” he said again, his voice low.

You couldn't help but shiver. That kind of tone almost made you blurt out “yes, sir”, but you refrained. “You're drawing ‘take a nap’?” You asked instead, doing an inner cheer when his lips twitched in a smile. “Show me what it is and I’ll get some sleep. Just for you.”

“Just for me?” He asked.

“I think if anyone could get me to do anything without too much of a fight, it's you, Steve,” you said sincerely

He ran a hand through his hair and shyly ducked his head. “I can't say no to those eyes.” He brought his chair closer so you didn't have to get up. “But no insulting my work, okay? My ego can’t take it today.”

“Since your ego can't take it today, I’ll save the insults for tomorrow,” you giggled, but it stopped the moment he showed you the page.

It was a drawing of you.

You almost touched the page before you stopped yourself, not wanting to smudge it. The details were immaculate, down to your facial features and how you held yourself. You couldn’t say it was like looking in a mirror because you had never seen yourself look so beautiful, but it was still a reflection of you and something deeper.

He captured an essence that no camera ever had. One you didn't know you possessed. It was a tender and sensual story told through his eyes. Was this really how you looked to him?

“Steve, this is…” You lost your breath as you looked in his eyes. Where he had been shy a moment ago, he held his head high. Proudly. He should be proud of his talent. “It’s beautiful.”

“You're beautiful,” he whispered, his gaze a combination of soft and heated. A combination that made you lick your lips and set your heart ablaze. “It’s, uh, also not the first drawing I’ve done of you,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair again.

You saw color in his cheeks as you smiled at him. “You think I'm beautiful?” Plenty of people told you that, but you liked it more coming from him. It was an earnest sort of declaration without demanding anything from you in return. “And you have more drawings of me?”

Part of you hoped he drew you in intimate positions since you selfishly wanted him to desire you.

“You're the most beautiful person I've ever known.” Steve placed a large hand on your cheek and you didn't hesitate to lean in, your heart racing faster. Could he see your pulse racing in your neck? “And I do have more. Maybe if you're good, I’ll show them to you.”

Please.

You thought he was going to close the gap and kiss you, but a knock at the door made him pull away and reach for the gun in his holster. It was both sexy and disappointing to see him slip into his bodyguard mode. That was why he was there though. To protect you. Your safety came first.

“Steve?” An unfamiliar voice called from the other side of the door.

Steve’s shoulders relaxed, but he shook his head. “New guy. Doesn't know the knock yet. I’ll be right back,” he muttered, surprising you by brushing his lips against your forehead. “Lay down, please. I need you to get some rest for both of us.”

You watched him walk to the door and waited until he grabbed the handle to answer. “Maybe you can join me. Sir.”

The muscles in his back tightened, his gaze dark as he glanced back at you. “Be good,” he growled, leaving the room quickly. It was a sound you hadn't heard before.

Giggling, you flopped back on your bed. Steve drew you. He thought you were beautiful. He desired you. At least, you hoped so. Now the question was, how long would you stay at the party tonight before you picked up where you left off?

And would you behave?

I hope I did this justice. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[theostrophywife]

la petite mort.

pairing: regulus black x reader.

song inspiration: greedy by tate mcrae.

author's note: you guys, the wonka press tour is going to be the death of me. timothee looks so hot and therefore it gave me extra inspiration to finish this little piece.

Regulus Black was first and foremost a gentleman.

Before you started dating, Regulus was adamant about courting you properly. Your boyfriend was a bit old-fashioned that way, but you absolutely adored it. During your first date, Regulus took you out to the fanciest restaurant in town, opened the door for you, pulled out your chair, and didn’t even blink twice before sliding his card down when the check came. 

Ever since then, Regulus spoiled you rotten. Every day, he walked you to class, carried your bag and books, and even left sweet little notes for you to find throughout the day. In the eyes of the public, Regulus Black was the picture of the perfect gentleman, but in private, your boyfriend was anything but.

There was a dark side to Regulus. A side that you took great delight in awakening. Tonight, you were more determined than ever to push your boyfriend to his limits. 

It was a typical Friday night. You and Regulus were at his dorm for your weekly study date. Except you really weren’t in the mood to study. You were laying on your stomach on his bed, absentmindedly flipping through the potions manual in front of you. The assignment was to translate the text from French, but you hardly had more than a few sentences transcribed on your parchment. You were much too distracted at the moment. 

While the manual failed to capture your attention, Regulus did not. Your boyfriend was sitting across the room reading some obscure tome about dark magic. He leaned over the wooden desk, the sleeves of his shirt rolled just past his elbows, which gave you the perfect view of the veins on his forearms. His green and silver tie hung loosely around his neck, exposing the perfectly kissable column of his throat. 

Unaware of your ogling, Regulus twirled his wand between his fingers as his features pinched in concentration. Those angelic curls grazed his impossibly high cheekbones, drawing your attention to the smattering of freckles across his nose. As he read, Regulus mouthed the words silently, his lips curving around the vowels in the most delicious way. His green eyes burned intensely, illuminated by the warm glow of the lantern beside him. 

Abandoning your assignment, you dragged yourself off of the bed and sidled up behind him. Regulus melted into your touch as you massaged his shoulders. He looked up and the light hit his eyes just right, golden spears bursting through the rich green hues like a kaleidoscope. 

Regulus grabbed your chin and dragged your face down to his, planting a sweet kiss against your lips. You hummed against his mouth, eager to deepen the otherwise chaste kiss. You felt him smile at your enthusiasm before he gently tugged at your hair, forcing you to look at him once again. 

“Did you finish your translations, my love?’ 

You shook your head. “No, I think I need a study break.”

Regulus tutted. “Come show me what you’ve done so far and I’ll tell you if you’ve earned one.”

You pouted. It wasn’t very often that Regulus denied your request. Usually, he bent over backwards just to make you happy, so when he didn’t immediately grant you what you wanted, you couldn’t help but act like an absolute brat. Patience had never been your strong suit and Regulus knew that. 

Your boyfriend watched with an amused smirk as you retrieved your manual and parchment with a little frown on your face. You set the studying materials down on his desk and crossed your arms. 

“Where am I supposed to sit?”

Regulus patted his lap. “Right here is fine, darling.”

He almost chuckled at how quickly your mood brightened after that, but he didn’t want to give himself away. Regulus knew exactly what you wanted and he had every intention of making you work for it. You made yourself right at home on his lap, rubbing your arse against his crotch. He would’ve been embarrassed at how hard he already was underneath you, but Regulus had absolutely no shame when it came to his girl. 

“Why don’t you read what you have so far, mon amour?”

You began by reading the ingredients, which listed the main components of the potion. Those were easy enough to translate given that the terms were quite similar in each language. Regulus urged you to continue and you had no choice but to fumble through the instructions, which you had undoubtedly mucked up after getting distracted by him. 

“Faire chauffer à feu doux,” you said reluctantly.

Regulus shook his head. “Faire chauffer à feu fort,” he corrected in perfect French.

It was rather pathetic how hot and bothered you were over boiling instructions, but you couldn’t stop squirming at how attractive it was to hear your boyfriend speak the language of love. Regulus bid you to continue, which you did rather distractedly. 

You struggled through the next few sentences, pressing your thighs together every time Regulus corrected your pronunciation. “You have to roll your tongue, darling. Like this.” 

After Regulus demonstrated by rolling his tongue and sounding out the word flawlessly, your skin felt so hot that you were surprised you hadn’t burst into flames. As you stuttered over the next few sentences, you felt Regulus shuffle underneath you. He slowly unbuckled his belt and slid off his pants. You stopped mid-sentence when he lifted up your skirt. 

Regulus slapped your thigh so hard that the action made you jerk in his lap. “I didn’t say you could stop. Keep reading, love.”

“Trancher de la racine aux pointes—“ you stammered lamely through the words as his hands roamed underneath your skirt. 

You held your breath as he palmed you through the cotton fabric. Regulus smirked when he felt how wet and needy you were for him. He pulled your panties to the side, not bothering to take them off as he caressed your slit. Coating his index and middle fingers with your arousal, Regulus spread your wetness all along your folds. 

A pathetic little whimper escaped your lips. Regulus grabbed your chin and turned you towards him. “I told you to keep reading,” he growled. “Start that section over and don't stop or I’ll make you regret it. Do you understand, princess?”

With a nod, you continued to decipher the next section. Regulus hummed in approval as he lifted your hips. You gripped the parchment as your boyfriend positioned you over his length before thrusting his cock inside of you without warning. 

You bit your lip to keep your moan in. “What are you doing, Reg?” 

Regulus chuckled darkly. “You didn’t think I’d let you get away with acting like a spoiled fucking brat, did you?” You gasped as he sheathed himself in your warmth, filling you to the hilt and nearly making you squirm with pleasure. “You wanted my cock so I’m giving it to you, but I’m not moving until you finish your assignment.” 

The whine that escaped out of you made him smirk. “Now be a good girl so you can get your reward, yeah?” 

Your boyfriend stayed true to his word. Every time you translated a phrase correctly, Regulus rewarded you with a slow thrust. He grunted as he drove deeper into you, whispering praises of encouragement in your ear. 

“My smart girl,” Regulus declared proudly, littering kisses against your neck. “Keep going, baby. You want more, don’t you?” 

The growing need for him distracted you. When you pronounced a word wrong, Regulus pulled all the way out until only his tip teased along your folds. You whimpered at the loss, loathing the hollow and empty feeling it left you with. 

Regulus grabbed you by the throat. “Salé means savory, sucré is sweet. I’m disappointed. I know you know this, darling. Let’s refresh.” He pressed his lips against yours and you ached to kiss him, but you knew that he wouldn’t be pleased if you did so without permission. “Say it with me. Salé.” 

You swallowed thickly as he spoke the words against your mouth. The smooth way that the word rolled off of his tongue made you clench around him. Regulus smirked as you repeated the word, slightly stuttering while you struggled to stay still. 

“Salé.” 

“Does it turn you on when I speak French, mon amour?” You nodded silently, not trusting yourself with words at the moment. “I know it does, gorgeous girl. I can tell by the way your pretty little pussy is clenching around my cock. Poor thing, you must be aching to be fucked, aren’t you?” 

Tears pricked at your eyes. You wanted him so badly that it actually hurt. Regulus wiped the errant tear away with his thumb. “One more, darling. Surely you can manage.” He tilted your chin up and spoke the last word against your lips. “Sucré.”

“Sucré,” you repeated obediently.

“What does it mean?” 

“Sweet.” 

“Just like you, pretty girl.” Regulus kissed your cheek. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now you can have your study break.” 

You sighed in relief when Regulus finally kissed you. The chaste kiss from earlier was gone. Instead, he claimed your mouth with his tongue, leaving open mouthed kisses that had you tugging at his curls for more. He smiled as you grinded into him, making him grunt in pleasure as you lowered onto his length.

“So eager, aren’t we? Where do you want me, mon amour? Here or on the bed?”

“Neither,” you gasped into his mouth before glancing at the desk behind you. 

He chuckled when he realized what you meant. “Is this what you were thinking about, love? Couldn’t focus on your work because you were imagining me bending you over that desk?” 

You nodded. “Yes,” you breathed. “Please, Reg. I need you so bad.” 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty when you beg.” Regulus shifted and patted your thigh. “Come on, darling. Bend over for me. Let me fuck you on this desk until you cry.” 

Regulus watched with lust blown eyes as you bent over the wooden desk. He flipped your skirt up and palmed your ass, the cold bite of his rings sending shivers down your spine. You bit your lip as Regulus loosened his tie. He smirked as he slid it off his neck. 

“Put your arms behind your back, mon cœur.” 

You eagerly obeyed his command. Regulus pinned your wrists together and bound you with his tie. Pressing your cheek against the wood, he stripped you of your shirt and kissed along your spine. Regulus leaned over and slipped a hand underneath your lacy bra, squeezing your tits as he positioned himself behind you. His other hand guided his cock at your entrance. Regulus slipped in slowly, giving you inch after delicious inch. 

“Merde,” Regulus cursed. “You feel so fucking good, princess.” 

Once he started moving, you were reduced to a blubbering mess. Regulus was relentless as he fucked you from behind, his fingers digging into your hips while he drove in and out of you. The parchment and quills that were neatly laid out on his desk clattered to the ground with every slam of his hips. The desk rattled against the wall while he fucked you into oblivion. 

You pressed your cheek against the wood, the sound of your moans bouncing off the walls while you begged for more. “Baise-moi fort, Regulus.” 

Regulus hissed, thrusting into you with force just like you asked. The line between pain and pleasure blurred. Warm tears coated your cheeks as he pushed your body to the limit. Regulus pulled your hair and tugged him towards you for a sloppy kiss. Your legs shook underneath you as he slapped your ass. You could feel the imprint of his rings brand itself into your skin. He timed his thrusts with each smack, making you wetter and wetter by the second. 

He brushed your hair back, kissing your cheek. Regulus placed his hand on your stomach and pressed down just as he rutted into you. “Feel that, princess? This is what I think about all day. Burying myself so deep inside you that you can’t even form words.” You babbled in response, whatever words you were trying to form came out entirely incoherent. “Have I fucked you dumb, darling? You should know better than to ask me to fuck you harder. You know I have no control when it comes to you, Y/N.” 

You cried as he slammed into you. “S’too much, Reggie. I—I can’t take anymore—“

Regulus only laughed. “That’s too fucking bad, princess. You begged like a whore, so you get fucked like one too.” He licked a stripe against your neck before leaving love bites on every surface of your skin. 

There was nothing your boyfriend loved more than claiming your body like this. He smiled as you whimpered, knowing that you’d be marked and bruised for days to come. Though your cheeks were stained with tears, Regulus knew you could take more. Your body told him everything he needed to know. The way you fluttered around him indicated that you were close. He was definitely pushing your limit, but Regulus had a habit of coaxing you out of your comfort zone to provide the most mind-blowing orgasms that you’ve ever experienced. 

“Cum for me, mon amour.” 

White hot heat surged through your veins. You moaned his name while the orgasm crested like a wave, washing over your body like a biblical flood. For a second, it felt like your soul had left your body entirely. The phrase la petite mort flashed in your mind. The little death, the French called it. 

Just when you thought that the high was finally leveling out, Regulus picked you up and placed you on the desk. He untied your wrists before kneeling between your legs. Regulus smirked as he kissed along the inside of your thighs. Those pretty eyes flashed with mischief as he bit into your flesh. 

“Hang on, pretty girl. I’m not done with you yet.” 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as Regulus lapped up your arousal. He kissed and sucked at your wet cunt like they were hauling him off to Azkaban at any given moment. Your boyfriend grunted when you tugged at his luscious curls, utterly turned on by your roughness. When Regulus looked up at you through thick, dark lashes with his mouth dripping with your cum, you couldn’t help but shiver at the sight. 

You loved seeing Regulus like this. You loved knowing that only you could awaken this dark and dangerous side of him. 

“Oh god, Reg,” you keened, arching against his mouth. “Fuck, I love you.” 

Regulus hummed in approval, spelling out his initials against your folds. The curve of R.A.B. branded itself into your core in the most erotic way possible. The message was clear. You belonged to Regulus and Regulus alone. 

As he worked, Regulus pumped himself between his fingers. You could feel him edging towards release just as a second orgasm washed over you. Regulus looked up when you tugged at his hair. 

“Don’t cum yet, baby,” you said hoarsely. “Not until you’re inside me again.” 

“Mon dieu, you kill me when you say things like that.” Regulus hissed as he wrapped your legs around his waist. The groan that escaped his lips as he slipped inside of you again was downright vulgar. “My filthy fucking girl. I love being inside of you.”

You whimpered in response, bringing him closer as he pounded into you again and again. “I love when you fill me up, Reg. You’re the only one who can make me feel like this. You’re the only one who can fuck me like I need. Gods, you’re perfect.” 

“You feel so fucking good,” Regulus whispered against your lips. “Gods, I’m so close.”

“I know, Reggie. I know.” You kissed him, sighing as you canted your hips to match his rhythm. “I want to feel you cum inside of me, pretty boy.” 

Regulus grunted, his thrusts growing sloppy and desperate. Your words sent him over the edge and he came with a gasp, biting into your shoulder to keep himself from waking up the dungeons. You held him as the orgasm seized his body, whispering sweet nothings into his ear and following the praise with adoring kisses. 

Your heart warmed as he gazed lovingly up at you. He pulled out slowly, peppering kisses all over your face but never taking his eyes off of you. The way Regulus looked at you made you feel like you were the only girl in the world. 

“Reg?” you murmured. 

“Yes, my love?” 

“I think I like studying after all.” Regulus chuckled against your skin, his curls tickling your neck. “You’re excellent at inspiring motivation.” 

“Anything for you, mon amour. I was a goner the second you called me pretty boy.” 

“Is that so?” You teased, kissing the tip of his nose. “Well, you are, you know. You’re my pretty boy.” 

“Don’t say that unless you’re ready for another round.” 

“I’m always ready for you, Reggie. I can’t get enough.”

Regulus picked you up bridal style and carried you to the bed. “Je t'aime de tout mon cœur, my cheeky girl.”

“I love you too, Regulus Arcturus Black.” You smiled and kissed his temple. “With all my heart.”

[the-original-skipps]

|| Won’t you believe me? || Suo Hayato x Reader || Wind Breaker ||

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:10

PLAY!

I won’t lie writers block is getting to me but for suo I must persevere

: fem!reader. fluff. established relationship. suo being a tease.

“I l-love you.”

“Thanks. I love you too.”

Suo says nonchalantly with his signature closed eye smile. Oh, that wasn’t the reaction you were expecting which leaves you at a loss of words of what to say next. Sure you weren’t expecting a fully tear eyed, heartfelt response but it just seemed like it’s lacking something. You pout at Suo who looks at you questionably. “ I think your definition of love is different from mine.” You say with a pout on your face, your cheeks lightly dusted pink.

“Different…?”

Suo looks at you confused for a moment before a smile stretches on his face, his eye reflecting mischief. He then leans in closer to your face, causing you to yelp at the sudden proximity. “ Then in what way do you love me?” Suo asks, leaning even closer till you could almost see your own reflection in his maroon eye. “Tell me how your love is different from mine.” He stares deeply into your eyes awaiting an answer. You gulp as you look away from his intense gaze, thoughts running trying to think of an answer. “Umm w-well it’s like you k-know I….” You know you’re blushing hard now because Suo’s smile only gets wider before it disappears in an instant as he leans away.

“That’s mean. It’s like you don’t believe in my words.” The smile that used to be on his face is now gone as he lets out a sigh looking dejected. You briefly inwardly panic for a moment before answering him. “It’s because you s-say it so casually, I don’t know if you actually mean it like I do” You feel his strong gaze on you again causing you to fidget, avoiding his gaze.

“That’s not true I do mean it, even now when I’m standing next to you my heart is beating like crazy.” Suo murmurs to you. You look up, surprised at his words. You also can’t help but think that he looks cute, dejected. You just want to squish his cheeks. Has Suo's sadism rubbed off on you? “It doesn’t seem like it.” You nervously giggled in response.

“Then why don’t you feel it for yourself?”

Suddenly, Suo grabs your hand causing you to look at him surprised wondering what he will do. He then pulls your hand close, urging you to place your hand on his chest. “Here, feel it…” His hand is warm on your skin and when did his face get so close again?! You thought to yourself as you couldn’t form any words to reply. With his guidance you slowly place your hand on his chest where his heart lies, the smooth silk of his skirt on your palm. Your eyes widened, just as he said you could feel a rapid rhythm against your hand.

“Do you feel it?” You look up to realize that his face is close to yours now -that you can catch a whiff of his cologne. Suo leans his head against yours placing his own hand on top of yours. “Do you feel the same?” He whispers, which almost sounds like a plea. You could feel your own heart accelerating to match his, feeling mesmerized by his magnetic stare. Your heartbeat echoing loudly in your head as you try to maintain your composure. His soft lips look so kissable right now. You could just lean in and…

You feel your thoughts going into dangerous waters, as if he's hypnotizing you. With the realization, you immediately jerk away from him-face so red that there might be steam coming from it.

“Okay okay, I get it…!” You exclaimed, unable to take the pressure from being so close to him. Suo blinks at you until he lets out a soft laugh at your reaction. You could feel yourself staring at him in awe, your blush growing darker because who laughs this adorably even if it’s at your expense. You huff, this man could be the death of you someday. 

extra:

(Y/N): Stop teasing me!!!

Suo: You just wouldn’t believe me :((

[museanddream]

Pretty Please || Laia Codina x reader

Summary: Amid the Conti Cup celebrations, you come up with an idea to wipe the smirk off Laia’s stupid pretty face.

Warnings: 🔞 | face sitting, fingering, light bondage (but the soft and silly kind), top!reader

Word count: 5k

The look on Laia’s face when you push her onto the bed is one that will be etched into your memory for a long time.

Later, if you end up regretting this, you’ll blame the champagne. The thing about Laia is that she’s just so passionate. From the moment she came onto the pitch after half time, right through extra time and the celebrations that lasted into the night, she committed wholly to it all. And maybe you’ve actually fancied her all along, or maybe it’s the bubbles poured down your throat from the open bottles that have gone straight to your head, but you don’t think you can really be blamed for seeing Laia give herself to everything so wholeheartedly and wanting to drag her away so she can give herself completely to you.

Her expression is dazed, her hands helpless at her side as you straddle her hips, like she doesn’t quite believe this is happening.

“That’s it,” you assure her. “Just lie there and look pretty for me.”

She is pretty, blown pupils in eyes that stare up at you like you’re an as yet undiscovered wonder of the world. The confidence that attracted you to her is still there, but there’s a slight hesitancy too, like she’s navigating uncharted waters.

“I don’t … I’m not…”

Her accented voice is a little husky, probably from all the singing since Arsenal lifted the trophy but you allow yourself to believe that just a little bit of it is because of you and this position you’ve put her in.

“What? You’re not used to somebody else calling the shots?” You can’t help but tease her.

Laia gives a little shrug.

“Well, no.”

You lean forwards to cover her body with yours, ghosting your lips over hers as you murmur, “If you don’t want to do this…”

Laia answers by fisting a hand into the material of your jersey and pulling you closer so that your lips have no choice but to crash against hers.

She kisses exactly the way you knew she would - with her entire body. You’re supposed to be taking control but it’s really hard to focus on that when Laia’s teeth nip at your lips, when her tongue swipes into your mouth, when her whole aura is enveloping you. Her hands quickly drop to your hips, then fall even lower until her palms are cupping your ass, her fingers squeezing roughly as she tries to pull you even closer.

“Stop it.” You break the kiss and swat at her hands until she complies and lets them fall back to her sides on the bed, then you add, “Don’t make me tie you up.”

It’s just a joke until it isn’t, Laia’s eyes darkening and her thighs clenching together beneath you. The movement is so minute that you could miss it, if Laia wasn’t the entire purpose of your existence right now.

“Oh?” Your mouth curls up into a smile at the realisation, one eyebrow arched as Laia’s cheeks flush. “You’d like that, would you?” You don’t give Laia time to answer before you’re pulling at the hem of the Arsenal shirt she still wears and telling her, “Take this off.”

You clamber off the bed and cross over to your open suitcase, cursing the fact that you’re in a random hotel in Wolverhampton and not the comfort of your own flat, where you’ve got all kinds of fun things you could use on Laia.

Rummaging around for anything that might be useful, your fingers eventually close around a clean pair of spare football socks rolled-up at the bottom of your bag and in the absence of any actual ties, you decide they’ll have to do. When you turn your attention back to the bed, Laia has taken off her shirt but still wears a sports bra and, for some inexplicable reason, the Conti Cup winner’s medal that hasn’t left her neck since she was presented it after the game earlier. She lounges back against the pillows, the smirk back on her lips. That damn kissable smirk.

“Take those off too,” you instruct her.

Laia maintains eye contact with you the entire time as she lifts the medal from around her neck and leans across to drop it on the nightstand, and yeah, you really need to put her in her place.

You crawl back onto the bed, helping her remove the bra without much care, too fuelled on a high of adrenaline, post-match pizza and champagne. The kiss you give her when the bra is gone is bruising, flattening her into the mattress as you remind her who is in charge, discarding the socks and your idea for them for a second while you focus on more important things - namely getting your hands on Laia’s tits. She gasps into your mouth as your palms brush across her nipples and you take advantage, slipping your tongue past her lips as you devour her mouth, hot and filthy.

“Fuck,” Laia exhales, as your mouth drops to her jaw, tilting her head to the side to give you better access as you descend the column of her neck and litter kisses across her clavicle.

“That’s the idea,” you murmur against hot skin as one of her hands finds the back of your head and weaves through your hair as she tries to guide you lower. You’ll allow it for now, knowing that she won’t have the use of her hands for much longer, and wrap your lips around a dusky nipple.

“Fuck,” Laia repeats, somehow more reverent than before.

“Is that the only word you know?” you ask, lifting your head to grin down at her as you replace your mouth with your hand, pinching her nipple between your thumb and forefinger.

“English is my fourth language,” Laia protests.

You can’t help but lean down and kiss the pout right off her swollen lips.

“Then let me help you,” you say between kisses. “Let me teach you two words that go really well with that one. How about ‘me’ and ‘please’?”

You watch as the cogs work in Laia’s mind. In her defence, it’s probably a lot harder to translate and put the words together while you’re playing with her tits. Still, the look of realisation on her face when she puts it all together is one that brings you a great deal of joy.

“You’re an asshole,” she mutters.

“You’ll be saying it before the end of the night,” you promise her. “Now, do you trust me?”

You let your hands still, serious for a moment as you wait for her unwavering consent.

She nods, face stoic as she answers, “Of course.”

Reaching for the socks you discarded earlier, you unwrap them from their little bundle and gesture at Laia.

“Gimme your hands.”

Laia stares back defiantly for a few seconds, the hard set of her jaw challenging you, before her face slides into the familiar confident smirk as she offers up her hands.

“Is this how you always celebrate winning trophies?” she asks.

Silently, you wrap the length of one of the socks around Laia’s wrists, binding them together with a tight knot. The material is stretchy and she could probably still break free, but it’s the thought behind it that’s what really matters. The power you hold over her as she gives herself to you and lets you render her semi-helpless beneath you.

Even with her wrists bound, she still seems too comfortable, like this is her plan all along and not yours. And you can’t have that.

You answer her with a question of your own.

“What, by putting annoying little shits like you in their place?”

Pleased with the reaction she’s drawing from you, Laia grins up at you.

“I love hearing you talk dirty like that,” she teases you in a low voice.

Satisfied with your work, you lift Laia’s bound hands above her head and respond, “I’ve still got another sock. Don’t make me gag you with it.”

Laia actually laughs, a ripple of joy that bursts from her throat and yeah she’s a bit of a dickhead, but she’s also so fucking pretty when she’s half-naked and grinning up at you.

You silence her in a different way, with your mouth, and there are no complaints now as you kiss her as deeply as before. She kisses you back just as fervently, clinging onto whatever semblance of control she thinks she can take from you, even with her hands useless above her head. She kisses as assuredly as she tackles, the raw passion that emanates from her body just as prevalent now as it was on the pitch this afternoon and if there was a medal for dedication to a cause, it would surely be hanging around Laia’s neck.

She’s still far too dressed for your liking, even with her chest bare, and you don’t even break the kiss as your hands dip down her sides and your thumbs tuck into the elastic waistband of her sweatpants.

Laia lifts her hips from the bed and you don’t need more invitation than that, finally breaking the kiss so that you can pull the rest of her clothes down her legs, tossing them over your shoulder onto the floor.

Unfazed by her own nudity, though really, with her hands already bound together, there’s very little point in being ashamed, Laia scans down your own clothed body and says, “You’re wearing too much.”

“Yeah?” Your eyes flit to Laia’s hands, still stretched above her head with the length of sock binding her wrists together. “And what are you gonna do about that?”

Laia clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, fighting off another grin as she shakes her head from side to side.

“And you call me a shit.”

Apparently, tying Laia up has done nothing to instil some obedience in her.

“Shut the fuck up,” you tell her.

“Make me shut up yourself,” Laia challenges you.

It’s not a bad idea. In fact, it’s an excellent idea.

You climb off the bed, leaving Laia still naked on top of the covers, her hands above her head. She brings them down and sits up, the expression on her face one of confusion as to why you’ve moved away.

“Wait!” she calls out. “No, I’ll be good! I promise.”

You lift your own shirt over your head, then step out of your joggers, leaving you in just your underwear. Laia has fallen silent upon realising that you’re not changing your mind, her eyes wide and mouth slightly open as she stares at all the new skin on show.

It’s not the first time she’s seen your body - you share a dressing room literally every day - but it’s the first time she’s been allowed to appreciate it. It’s almost funny how stripping out of your clothes has rendered Laia incapable of doing anything except staring at you, if not for the hunger in her eyes that sets your own body alight, turning you on beyond what you thought was possible.

You slide your underwear down your legs then return to the bed, straddling Laia once again, this time without the barrier of clothes.

“This isn’t fair,” Laia complains, eyes flitting up to the hands bound above her head.

“Why not?”

“I want to touch you.”

Laia makes no attempt to wriggle her hands loose, even though the stretchy material of the sock would make that quite easy for her. It fills you with a little bit of pride to see that she doesn’t do that, that she’s secretly happy with the position you’ve put her in and the freedom of movement that you’ve taken from her.

“I thought you wanted me to shut you up?” you remind her, shuffling your knees forward as you move further up the bed towards Laia’s head.

Laia’s eyes widen in realisation, then that confident grin returns to her face.

“Yeah, that works too.”

You stop with your knees on either side of Laia’s head, pausing for a moment to consider if you should move so that Laia can bring her hands down her body to be more comfortable. But then you catch sight of her between your legs, cheeks tinged pink and black pupils swallowing almost all the brown irises around them, and any thought of Laia’s comfort flies out of your mind. Besides, with her hands caught above her head, you can still see them as you ride her face.

The thought has your cunt pulsing in anticipation.

You get comfortable, one hand reaching out to support your weight against the headboard, then lower yourself onto Laia’s waiting mouth.

As Laia licks through you for the first time, the touch of her tongue snatches the air out of your lungs. She moves slowly, starting at your hole and swirling up to your clit before it goes back again, moving without any real purpose other than to just taste you.

After a few moments, Laia leans back to say, “You are really fucking wet.”

Her words are completely unnecessary and insolent enough for you to thread the fingers of your free hand through her hair and pull her mouth back against your cunt to shut her up properly.

Laia doesn’t seem to have any complaints about that. In fact, she doubles her efforts, humming as her tongue glides through you.

She works with more purpose now, working all kinds of indescribable magic where you’re hot and wet and aching for her. Laia’s lips wrap around your clit, suckling gently, then her tongue dips lower, swirling through your folds until she can push the pointed tip inside you.

You can’t help the gasp that escapes your lips, nor the expletive that follows.

“Fuck.”

Laia can’t talk from the position between your legs but you feel the hot puff of breath from her nose as she half-sniggers. You look down, met with a teasing glint in her eyes, and you roll your own.

“Shut up and fuck me,” you instruct her.

You take the opportunity to roll your hips, grinding your cunt against her mouth with slow movements as Laia applies herself fully to eating you out. You can’t really stay annoyed with her, not when she’s making you feel so good. It crosses your mind that maybe the assuredness, the borderline cockiness that attracted you to Laia in the first place, is justified by the skills that back it up. But then Laia’s tongue flicks over your clit again and you lose the ability to think coherently at all.

“Fuck, Laia,” you groan, leaning forwards to support your bodyweight against the headboard as you pick up speed, riding not just her mouth now, but pretty much the whole lower half of her face. “That feels so good. Gonna come real quick if you keep doing that.”

You say it as a bit of a warning but Laia doesn’t take it that way. In fact, if the way she hums against you, then doubles down against your clit is anything to go by, the idea of getting you off as fast as possible seems to be her end goal.

And yeah, as the coil in your core starts to wind up as your orgasm approaches, it’s an idea you can get behind too.

Your grip in her hair tightens, holding her in place as you ride her tongue as well as your trembling thighs will allow, then you make the mistake of looking down again, catching a glimpse of the hands still bound above her head before your entire world crumbles in earth-shattering pleasure.

Laia’s tongue is the only constant as your orgasm takes control of your body, not that you give her much choice about it as you hold her face against your cunt. You ride it out with jerky movements of your hips, savouring each hum from the girl below you as she cleans up your arousal, until you’re too sensitive and roll to the side, collapsing onto the mattress.

“That was so fucking hot,” Laia’s voice rises up beside you as you try to catch your breath.

You can hear the confident smirk in her voice, but you’re too dazed out from your recent orgasm to even begin to form the words to tell her to get lost.

“Are you gonna untie me now?” Laia asks.

You turn your head to face her and open your eyes. Her hands are still obediently held above her head, the white material around her wrists a contrast against her tanned arms, and she pouts at your pleadingly.

“Not sure you’ve earned it yet,” you counter, your voice more gravelly than it was pre-orgasm.

“If you want me to get you off again…” She emphasises this last word, as if making you come once has given her the upper hand here. “… well, I might need my hands for that.”

If Laia really wanted the use of her hands, she’d wriggle them free of their stretchy confinement herself. You take the fact that she doesn’t as further proof that she likes being at your mercy.

Feeling suddenly reinvigorated by that thought, you roll fully onto your side and prop yourself up on one elbow, using the fingers of the other hand to trace barely-there paths against the soft skin of Laia’s chest.

“I thought I told you to just lie there and look pretty for me,” you murmur in a low voice.

“Isn’t that…” Laia trails off with a gasp as your fingertips skate across a hardened nipple, her back arching off the bed for more. Her eyes close as your fingers move away, then she tries again. “Isn’t that what I’ve been doing?”

“Yeah but I also said I wanted to hear you beg for it.”

“Please,” Laia is quick to obey. “Untie me.”

She lowers her hands, offering them out to you hopefully, but you have other ideas.

“I could untie you.” Your hand wanders lower, still just barely tracing against her skin and Laia’s breath hitches in her throat as you pass across a ticklish spot near her navel. “Or I could…”

Your hand dips between her legs, pleased that your fingers immediately encounter a copious wetness.

“Yeah,” Laia says, letting her bound hands fall back against the pillow above her head. “Like that.”

“And you had the audacity to say that I was wet,” you tease her as your fingers explore, already coated in Laia’s arousal.

“I just had you coming on my face,” Laia rasps. “Of course I’m wet.”

Your fingers move languidly, with no real purpose other than to get them as wet as possible with Laia’s slick, then you drag your hand up her body and push your fingers past her lips.

“Who tastes better?” You ask, watching in awe as Laia readily accepts your fingers into her mouth, diligently cleaning them of her own arousal. “Me or you?”

Laia slides her tongue between your fingers, before releasing them with a wet pop to answer, “You.”

Your fingers are still wet, now with Laia’s saliva, and you shift to kneel between her legs as you push them back between her lips.

This time, you actually fuck her mouth with your fingers. Before, you were just letting her taste herself, letting her see how wet you managed to get her, but now it’s about control. It’s about reminding her that you’re in charge.

And Laia takes it like a champ. She maintains eye contact with you the entire time, even as you force your fingers deeper into her mouth, her dark eyes challenging you to push further. So you do, and when she’s almost gagging on your fingers, you slide your other hand between her legs and sink inside her there too.

Laia takes one finger so easily that you add another after only a few thrusts, matching the rhythm of the fingers in her mouth. The resulting moan is muffled by your digits, so after one final thrust, you withdraw them messily and put all your focus onto her cunt.

You twist your fingers deeper, the meaty part of your thumb hitting her clit, and when she moans again, the sound fills the room.

“That’s it,” you encourage her. “Let me hear you.”

Laia lets out another wrecked moan as your fingers rock into her. Your thrusts are deep and slow, more interested in the noises you can pull from her than actually getting her close to coming, and you bask in the symphony of little moans and gasps that spill past her lips.

When she starts pleading with you, it feels like you’ve gone to heaven.

“More,” Laia groans. “Add another one.”

Your thrusts become rougher, but you make no move to add the third finger that she so desperately wants.

“That’s not how you ask nicely for things you want.”

Laia responds in Catalan and though you don’t understand it, from her tone you’re pretty sure she’s swearing at you. Your response to that is to curl your fingers on the next thrust, pressing against her front wall until her cursing fades into another moan.

Laia manages to stubbornly hold out for just a few more seconds before she gives in.

“Please. Another one, please.”

Your ego swells at how easy it was to get her to obey. You enjoy very few things more than putting confident girls like Laia in their place, but you never thought that it would be this easy, that all it would take would be a pair of socks around her wrists and a couple of fingers in her cunt to fuck her into submission.

“I had no idea you were so easy, Lai. Just desperate to be fucked, aren’t you?”

Laia curses again, first in Catalan, then in English. Then she begs you again and it’s delightful.

“Please,” she whines. “More. Harder.”

You tuck a third finger alongside the first two and start to work it into her hole, the stretch more apparent now. You watch Laia’s face for any signs of discomfort, eyes briefly lingering on the bound hands that writhe above her head, but she seems to be enjoying this as much as you are. More, even.

“So desperate,” you taunt her, gradually pushing deeper with each thrust until all three of your fingers are nestled inside her. “Bet you still want more, don’t you? My fingers aren’t enough for you?”

You withdraw almost entirely, then thrust back in with much less care than before. Your purpose is clearer now - to ruin Laia. She’s already halfway there, you can tell that from the pretty flush on her cheeks, the way her thighs are tensing and flexing as she bucks her hips into your hands, the slick sounds coming from the thrust of your fingers between her legs.

You know right in this moment that you’re never going to be satisfied with having Laia just the once. That being able to coax orgasm after orgasm from her, hearing these heavenly sounds leave her pretty mouth over and over again, is going to become a need, rather than a want. She takes you so well, everything you’re giving her, like you’re supposed to fit together like this.

And you have no doubt that if you were to give her more, she’d take that just as well.

“What if I had a strap, huh?” Your eyes are fixated between her legs as you ask the question, imagining the press of silicone where your fingers enter her body. The way she’d open up and take that too, strong thighs wrapped around your hips as you filled her. “You’d take that just as well, I bet. What d’ya think, Laia? Would you beg for my cock too?”

“Please,” Laia begs you, arching her back and tilting her head to the side to expose the sharp lines of her jaw. “Feels so good inside. So fucking good.”

You piston your fingers in and out, caring less about how rough you’re being and more about the noises you’re drawing from Laia. You can hear how wet she is where your fingers move, the rustle of the rumpled hotel sheets beneath her body as she writhes, but best of all are the litany of moans and gasps that spill past her lips each time you hit that spot deep inside her with the pads of your fingers.

“Need you … my clit … please,” Laia manages to choke out between groans, and you know she’s getting close.

You indulge her, using your spare hand, the one that was in each mouth earlier, to spread her open further before seeking out the slippery little nub between her legs. The way she jerks into your touch tells you that you’ve found the right place.

“Like that?”

“Need to come. Please let me come!”

You’re torn, half-tempted to draw it out longer because she’s just that fucking pretty when she’s tied up and desperate for you, but the selfish part of you really wants to see how much prettier she can be when she’s actually coming for you.

So you angle your fingers just right, trying to find the spot that was driving her wild a few moments ago, while keeping the light pressure around her clit with your thumb as constant as possible.

“Go on then,” you hum in concession. “Seeing as you asked so nicely. Come for me, Laia. Wanna see you let go for me.”

It takes a few more rough thrusts of your fingers in her cunt, a few more precise circles of your thumb on her clit, and then Laia’s back is arching off the bed as she lets out a fractured cry of pleasure as the orgasm takes over. You can only try to guide her through it, watching in awe as she finally falls apart in front of you.

This might be your favourite part of sleeping with a woman, the moment where she gives in and just lets the pleasure take control of her body. Knowing that you’ve made it happen, simultaneously the one who shattered Laia’s entire world for a brief moment, while also being the only thing still tethering her to reality. You keep your fingers constant, revelling in the way you can feel her clenching around your digits and the fresh wetness that coats your palm, only letting up when the twitch of her hips is away from your touch, telling you that it’s too much.

Laia’s eyes are closed, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath, and you savour the little mewl of pleasure she lets out as you slowly withdraw your fingers and wipe the stickiness that coats them on your own bare thigh.

In the sudden stillness of the hotel room, despite the fact that she’s just given you everything you thought you wanted and more, the pride of being the one to make Laia come means you can’t help but tease her one more time.

“You know,” you start, as you kiss up her body, soft kisses with no purpose other than to simply appreciate Laia, “for somebody who says she’s not used to bottoming, you’re pretty fucking good at it.”

Laia opens a lazy eye, her eyelids still heavy with post-orgasmic bliss.

“I …” She starts to speak, then trails off and shakes her head, sniggering softly to herself. “Actually, I won’t even argue. If that’s how you’re going to fuck me, I’d let you do it all again.”

You crawl up her body, sitting astride her hips and reaching for her hands. She willingly brings them down and lets you loosen the sock that binds them. When her hands are freed, you kiss the newly exposed skin, brushing your lips against the pulse on the inside of her wrists.

“Uh huh?” You tease her. “I think you just like being a pillow princess.”

“La teva princesa,” Laia says, catching your jaw with one of her hands as she looks directly at you, then explains in English, “Only for you.”

Her smirk is gone, replaced by an earnest smile and warmth in her brown eyes that you feel like you could tumble into. You don’t want to tease her anymore, you just want to savour the time you get to spend with her alone, before the inevitable chaos of the football season resumes in the morning.

As you lay down and settle against her side, half on top of her, you notice a bruise blooming on the crux of Laia’s jaw that you don’t even remember giving her, one that’s going to be tricky for her to explain away on the team bus back to London tomorrow. You realise that you don’t care.

“So, is this just a one time thing or…?”

Laia’s arms wrap around you from below, fingertips tracing mindless paths across your naked back, and you feel the rumble of her low voice against your chest more than you hear it.

You lift your head slightly to look at her and she somehow seems more vulnerable now as she waits for your answer than she did a few minutes ago when she had legs spread, arms bound, begging you to make her come.

“Let’s win more trophies and maybe you’ll find out.” You roll fully on top of Laia and start kissing down her body, your destination the crux of her thighs. “Though I’m pretty sure I still haven’t properly congratulated you on winning the Nations League…”

The resulting laugh as Laia takes full advantage of the newfound freedom of her hands to thread her fingers through your hair is melodic.

“Don’t forget about the World Cup,” she teases you.

You glance up her body, her toned stomach, her perfect breasts, that damn smirk taunting you once more on her lips.

Rolling your eyes, you only have one final thing to say before you put your mouth on her cunt.

“Don’t be so damn greedy, Laia.”

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Headcanon/Preference # 36

Gifs NOT mine.

Year posted - 2024

Rating - SFW (some subtle NSFW)

Reading time (roughly) - 4 minutes

• Leon S. Kennedy •

• Leon loves it for so many reasons. Firstly it's because of just how pretty it makes your lips, so kissable and shiny. Secondly he loves it because you love it, plain and simple, he's an amazing boyfriend.

• Leon not only likes seeing what new lip gloss you buy, but he also honestly enjoys going with you to pick out new lip gloss. But he will point out when you've obtained a bit too much lip gloss, and very very subtlety try to coax you into not buying more for a bit, at least until your stockpile has dwindled a bit.

• Leon never knew about plumping lip gloss until after you'd applied it, and kissed him later on. He was so shocked by it, and so confused at first. He grew to love it, but if he's being honest, his favorites are the ones that give your lips a unique tone. Like greys, purples, blues, and oranges.

• Jack Krauser •

• Jack honestly loves it so much it feels very out of character for him. Like he's borderline obsessed with how it looks on you, and even with how it feels when you kiss. So he's always stealing kisses whenever you reapply it.

• He buys you new lip gloss all the damn time. You could have hundreds, and he'd be still buy atleast one more. He especially likes plumping lip gloss, and how it makes your kisses feel electric.

• Jack especially loves how it feels when you kiss his scars while wearing lip gloss. I mean he loves it even without the lip gloss, but with it it's just that much better. Plus it makes it feel like your kisses are lingering on his skin, and he lives for that.

• Albert Wesker •

• Wesker honestly kinda hated it in the beginning of your relationship. He likes how it looks, well he loves it actually. But didn't much care for the feeling of it when you'd kiss.

• Eventually however he grew to appreciate it in a way. It was just another part of you by this point, and if for whatever reason you aren't wearing it when he steals a kiss, he'll just immediately assume something is wrong.

• Sometimes Wesker will forget to wipe off the lip gloss you left behind after a kiss. And when someone makes a stupid comment about it, he might just remark about how he's also got your lip gloss smears on his dick, just to shut them up... Even if it's true.

• Chris Redfield •

• Chris won't lie, he hates it. He likes how it looks on you, and he likes that it makes you happy and all. But Chris simply can't stand the way it feels, to him it just feels oily and gross. You end up getting into the habit of wiping it off his lips for him after every kiss.

• He doesn't mind it in the end, and won't try to convince you to stop wearing it. It's something you like, so he'll tolerate it for you with little complaint. He'll also compliment you whenever he notices you're wearing a new shade.

• Sometimes Chris just likes to take his thumb and run it across your bottom lip. And just watching the lip gloss smear is almost sensual in a way, it definitely feels very intimate that's for sure, but sometimes it almost feels more than just intimate.

• Luis Sera •

• Luis adores it so so much. Your lips are so soft from all the lip gloss use, and now his lips are so much softer from kissing you all the time, and simply never wiping the lip gloss off of his lips. Plus your lip gloss makes your kisses even sweeter.

• Totally keeps an extra tube of lip gloss in his pocket on the off chance you forget yours, or if you happen to loose yours. And yes the one he carries is definitely one of your absolute favorites, and he most likely bought it for you in the first place.

• Luis really enjoys when you pepper his face and neck with kisses, smearing your lip gloss over his warm skin, it feels like a kiss that'll last forever. And he craves more every single time. He's also totally the type to try your lip gloss out for himself, probably with you present even.

• Lucas Baker •

• Similar to Wesker, Lucas hated it from the very beginning... He also likes the way it looks, how shiny and appealing it makes your lips. But he never could stand the feeling of it, even when you'd kiss his cheek.

• Unlike Wesker on the other hand, Lucas still fucking hates it, with a goddamn passion he hates it. And he will literally (and dramatically) wipe his mouth of it after every single kiss, even when he was the one to initiate the kiss in the first place.

• Lucas will 1,000% try to convince you to stop wearing lip gloss. If he can't convince you to stop wearing it all together, he'll at least try to convince you to stop wearing it so much. He will throw a bit of a fit if you won't give it up. He also groans and rolls his eyes whenever you buy new lip gloss of course.

• Billy Coen •

• Billy teases the hell out of you for wearing lip gloss all the time, but don't let him fool ya, he loves it. It makes you look extra cute, especially when you're reapplying it. Plus it feels nice and silky, so it's a win win in his book.

• Despite his teasing, Billy enjoys watching you apply your lip gloss. Sometimes he'll tease you about making a mess, and intentionally smear it real bad. Afterwards stealing a quick kiss of course. And sometimes he'll just randomly get you a new lip gloss and be like it made me think of you. He's so cute it's annoying sometimes.

• Will beg you to keep your lip gloss on when y'all get down an dirty, especially if you're going to give him head. Then he'll tease you for leaving lip gloss smears on him, and then get salty if you try wiping it away.

This ones been sitting in my drafts since last year! Totally forgot about it, and I hadn't finished it, until like 10 minutes ago. ┐(￣ヮ￣)┌ Anyways I hope you enjoyed. I originally wanted it to be longer, but I'm content with it the way it is.

[mari-the-bimbo]

i feel asleep on my phone tryna marathon dorm mate sukuna and the literal first thing i did when i woke up was to finish it all! girl you just made a drug.

more dorm mate sukuna i beeeg you!

Dorm mate Sukuna: your part time job

A/N: STOPPP that’s so sweet! I’m happy to fuel your new addiction 🤭 I know this is nothing to do with what you requested but I had a funny thought about part time jobs so I indulged in my own silly thoughts lol enjoy! <3

Now being a uni student isn’t all sunflowers and daisies. You got to work part time to earn that extra money.

And now you made Sukuna mad because how many times does he have to tell you you don’t need to work?! “Why work when I told you I’ll buy you anything you want?” He says, grumbling when he realises how much of a simp he sounds like.

But hey, your money is your money and his money is also your money right? ;)

Sukuna definitely drives you to work. Right in front of the store too. He’s not letting his precious girl out in the ghetto like that.

But as you say your goodbyes and try to open the car door, you find it’s locked. “Kuna? Open the door”

“No” he says, taking a puff on his cigarette, his muscular tatted arm sticking out the window so the smoke doesn’t go into your face.

“What do you mean no? Open the door Suk-“

He grabs your chin with his other arm and looks at you unimpressed. “Why do you have the fucking audacity to leave when you haven’t given me a kiss huh?” He says, completely serious and pissed off.

But you can’t help but let out the laugh you’ve been holding in, you lean into his big rough hands as you continue to giggle. And he tries his best to keep his straight face but it’s kinda hard when you’re being so fucking cute and kissable.

He gives in to his impulsive thoughts as he stroked your rosy cheeks with his thumb.

“Silly girl” he says with a lovesick grin as he grabs your face and roughly presses a kiss to your lips. You kiss him back with a hum, unable to get enough of your overprotective perv boyfriend.

“You love me so much don’t you” you tease as you pull away. He shakes his head in annoyance but he fails to hide the amused smile on his face.

“Get out you rat” he says playfully as he unlocks the door and you finally leave with an evil laugh.

He doesn’t stop there though, he’ll turn up after your shift ends, casually placing your favourite drink on the counter while a cigarette hangs from the corner of his mouth. “hurry up doll”.

He’ll be glaring down your 41 yr old colleague who is your sworn enemy, and no, he won’t hesitate to kick her bad leg if she tries to tell you how to do your job again 🫢

He’ll sit down manspread across a chair and table as he waits for you in silence, his lazy red eyes admiring you from a distance while puffing his smoke. And although you think it’s the cutest thing in the world, your colleagues can’t help but stare in fear at the pink haired thug, who just sits there, ‘menacingly’ according to them.

Finally once you’re ready to leave, he’ll stand up and silently offer his muscular arm, a hint for you to wrap your hands around his arm. And once you finally do, he happily takes his sweet girl back to the dorm.

“C’mon little one, you got another night shift with me now” he teases, making your ears burn in embarrassment as you watch everyone’s jaw drop.