#maybe they didn't want to because it'd be awkward

[ssailormoonn]

❛ DON'T CARE !! ❜

Genin! Sasuke Uchiha X Fem!Genin!Reader

WC; 1k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW; no triggers apart from sasuke himself, x fem reader, reader is apart of team 7, reader is a genin, reader is a ninja

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) Reader and Sasuke who are on team 7 together, with Sakura getting jealous that Sasuke prefers reader over her. Sakura always tries to butt in on their convos but Sasuke just ignores her or tells her off. 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼 love your work so much 🤍🤍🤍 - ANON

m.list | naruto/boruto m.list | uchiha m.list

You and Sasuke just finished a training session in combat so you were sweaty and gross. Although, Sasuke didn't really want you to leave him, you could feel it, that he wanted you to stay. So now, your legs swing gently from a small stone wall near the training ground. Next to you, sat Sasuke who was leant forward with his elbows propped on his knees. 

You shoot a glance over at Sasuke, who is staring out into the training field, his eyes distant. A stifled smile quivers at the corners of your mouth, his one-track mind amuses him, he's just so serious. You can't say that, though, before the sound of footsteps reaches your ears and the comfortable silence is broken by a familiar voice. "Sasuke-kun!" Sakura's overly happy voice broke the peaceful silence. 

You bite back a sigh as she sprints up, stopping right in front of the two of you. "Do you want to train with me later?" Sakura asks, eyes wide and hopeful staring only at Sasuke. You can't help but feel a slight awkwardness as she comes to the two of you, Sasuke doesn't want her here. She doesn't even glance your way, and though you're used to that, it's hard not to feel you are some sort of third wheel when she's present. 

However, Sasuke is normal, where he does not even look remotely fazed by her presence. 

Not even bothering to look up from where he sits. "No," Sasuke answers shortly, his tone uninterested. You send a sideways glance to Sakura in time to catch her face falling, though she covers well, forcing a tight smile. "B-but... we're teammates, right? It'd be good to practice together," she presses her voice sounding as if she was pleasing now.  This time, Sasuke simply lifts his head to give her a sideways glance. "If I wanted to train, I'd ask her," he replies annoyed, his head motioning towards you without missing a beat. Sakura's false smile falters, and her gaze-really catches yours for the first time, in that second, the flicker of jealousy is there in the eyes before it is hidden fast. 

"Oh, right," she mutters, thrown off clearly by Sasuke's dismissiveness which shouldn't be odd because he always does it... It isn't the first time Sakura tried to force her way into your conversations with Sasuke. She's always been relentless in ways concerning him, and that determination to be near him more often than not leaves you in this position. "Well, maybe the three of us can train together?" she attempts again. But Sasuke's having none of it. "No," he says sharply, finally twisting his head fully to look at her. "I don't want to train with you.: The bluntness hangs in the air, and you watch in discomfort as Sakura's face twists with hurt, her eyes darting briefly between you and Sasuke. "Sasuke-kun, I—" she starts, but he cuts her off.

"I want to talk to her alone," he adds.

She looks down to the ground, her cheeks red in embarrassment. 

"Oh... okay," she stammers out in barely a whisper. 

She lingers for a moment as if waiting for Sasuke to take back his words, but when nothing is said, she turns on her heel and starts to walk away, her shoulders slumped in defeat. You feel a little guilty just watching her go. "You didn't have to be that harsh," you tell him, turning back to Sasuke, an eyebrow raised at him. He shrugs. "She was being annoying," he says simply. You laugh and shake your head. "You know, there's such a thing as being nice, Sasuke." "Hn," he grunts, falling back onto his hands and tilting his head up to the sky. "It's not my problem if she can't take a hint. You roll your eyes, but can't help the small smile that plays on your lips. That's just direct, sometimes a bit too much, but honest. It's one of the reasons you're able to sit with him like this and feel utterly at ease. Unlike others, you don't have to guess what he's thinking.

But sometimes, you don't know what he's thinking, you wonder if he is going to change. "Still, you really didn't have to shut her down like that in front of me. I feel like I'm caught in the middle of your weird rivalry," you tease, crossing your arms over your chest. Sasuke utters a soft "tch," one that is barely worthy of a response in itself. He turns to you sideways. "I'd rather be here with you." The words catch in your throat, and for a moment, you're not sure if you've heard him right; he said it so nonchalantly. Still, with Sasuke, you know there's a weight attached to those words. So used to him being cold and distant from anyone else, but he's always been different from you. You let a soft smile spread across your face, and you lean into him lightly with your shoulder. "Wow, the great Uchiha Sasuke actually enjoys someone's company. What's next? You're going to start giving me compliments?" He gives you that look. "Don't push it." You giggle, falling back onto your hands once more. Sasuke shifts beside you, his arm brushing yours. It was a tiny, almost imperceptible gesture, but it set your heart racing. Neither of you does anything to pull away. You look across the training grounds to find Sakura staring at you, her face red with jealousy. "You know," you say after some time, breaking the silence, "you should try being nicer to her sometimes. She's not all bad." Sasuke says nothing at first, and for one moment you think he's just going to ignore that comment of yours. But then he speaks, quieter than a moment before. "I don't care about her." You turn your head towards him slightly, your brow furrowing a bit. "Then what do you care about? There is a long pause, Sasuke meets your gaze, his dark eyes unreadable just like they have always been. You almost think he is going to avoid the question, but then his lips open ever so slightly. "You," he says, barely above a whisper. Your heart stutters, and for once, you are at a loss for what to say. Sasuke doesn't look away, he stares into your eyes with a serious intensity that somersaults your stomach. You finally smile after ages have passed, your voice soft. "You're such a softie, Sasuke. He glares at you, his eyes flashing-but the faint blush dusting his cheeks is a dead giveaway. You laugh softly, light and easy, and he lets out a low "tch," turning his head away, not before you catch the barest hint of a smile on his lips.

Do not copy, steal, modify, use for AI, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | naruto/boruto m.list | uchiha m.list

taglist :: @enouche @lovelyandproblematic

@sugu-love @why-are-you-still-awake

[supersecretmetalocalypseblog]

Of all the animation errors in this show, one I notice so consistently is this.

Charles like to pretend to rest his arm on the side of his chair. like there's an armrest there. (THERE ISN'T) (also season 2, Dethsources)

Like hon, what're you doing with that? (season 2 i'm pretty sure, uhhhhhh Snakes N Barrels II, idk I'm just going through my screenshot backup folder)

In season three they re-do the background for his office I think? because I don't recall seeing it after this.

A shot from season 3, I think fertilityklok?

rehabklok. I think rather than just give his chair armrests, they just stopped making him sit like that.

season 4, writersklok. yeah they just sort of changed the angle his room is shown at so they don't need to draw charles sitting in his chair, just sorta... floating his arms.

[parfaitblogs]

risk ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you have the sweetest regular, and it’s probably too soon to tell him you love him!

pairing: spencer reid x barista!reader genre: fluff tags: s1 spencer. who rambles. biblically accurate career!reader sorry if some of the coffee talk makes no sense to you. reader makes all the first moves. y'all kiss (aww). written in timeskip sorta it's not crazy (like maybe a month). not proofread sorryyy (im not). word count: 2.2k a/n: first instalment of my spencer reid eras tour🙂‍↕️ season 1 spencer reid i freaking adore you. he's so cute. gif!! i thought gifs in this series could be cute lol. envisioned 1x10 spencer bc of his nightmares if that means anything. enjoyyy ily im off to work 🏃 

series masterlist

There are many reasons you come to work each morning. The money (an obvious one), your coworkers who usually make each day a little bit more bearable. And Spencer. A regular who had become a little notorious for having an odd coffee order, that most of the store workers hated making. 

Except for you. 

It wasn't especially odd. But in a store that thrived on making the perfect cup of coffee, sometimes it meant remaking it three or four times because the shots didn't pour at the right amount of time, and recalibrating the machine was a hassle you all didn't want to deal with in the middle of the morning rush he usually came during. 

You had taken note of him the first few times he came in — always keeping to himself, flashing the most awkward smile you think you've ever seen on a human being, and ordering his old order (a large latte with as much sugar as you could fit in the cup). It was by the seventh time that had you thinking of him a little more often than just while you were at work. 

He looked a lot more exhausted than usual. His usually tame hair now loose and hanging over his face as he took a weary step towards the counter, fingers brushing strands away and tucking them behind his ears. 

"The latte, right?" you had asked him, and he had frozen, and you stood in fear of this not being the Spencer you thought he was, and you had just asked a total stranger about a coffee they've never ordered. 

But then he let out a nervous laugh, shaking his head. "Uh, no. Not today. Um—do you guys have a limit on how much coffee I can have?"

Your eyebrows furrowed. "No... we don't. I wouldn't recommend any more than like five shots in our largest size, though. It'd probably taste gross. But we can add as much as you need."

"Five's good. Yeah," he nodded his head, fingers wrapped tightly around the leather strap of his messenger bag. 

"Just... a five shot latte?" you clarified, and he froze again, shaking his head once more. 

"Do you recommend anything else? I—uh, I want it to be sweet enough still."

"I can do you a mocha?" you offered. "White chocolate mocha if you're looking for it to be even sweeter."

"I'll try that," he nodded his head, and out came his awkward smile, which had you smiling back just as awkwardly. 

Which was how he got to his current usual. It honestly became a test to ensure your coffee machines were actually running well, considering pulling five well-done espresso shots at once was no easy feat. And, again, most of your coworkers hated making his drink. 

Which was why it was palmed off to you. Every single morning without fail. And maybe in another universe you would join them in the hatred for this man's frustrating drink order. But then, in that universe, you wouldn't get to talk to him every morning (and slowly break him out of whatever shell he had locked himself up in). 

"I never asked," you began, staring at him over the top of the coffee machine while putting white chocolate fudge into the bottom of the cup. "Why did you change your order randomly?"

He parted his lips and his eyebrows creased together for a few seconds, as if he was deciding whether or not to tell you. You were kind of grateful he concluded on trusting you. 

"I wasn't really sleeping. When I asked about changing my order," he explained, hands letting go of the bag strap so he could talk with them. "Then I guess I just liked the taste of it? And it kept me awake. Which is a bonus."

"I can imagine it would," you nodded your head in agreement, flashing him a small smile, which he returned, bashfully. "Why weren't you sleeping?"

He went silent, and you almost cursed yourself for asking. Maybe you had gone too far. It was why, when you had begun to busy yourself with making his drink a little faster, you jumped when he spoke up again.

"I was getting these nightmares," he said, and your head lifted from the milk you were steaming. "Because of what I do for work."

"Law, right?" you asked, and he let out a small laugh, tucking hair behind his ear. 

"Sort of. I'm with the FBI."

"Oh, that's right," you replied, nodding your head in recognition. He had said that to you at some point in the earlier days when he first started coming in, because you had asked where he works so close by to be coming in as often as he did. "Can you tell me what part? Or is that confidential?"

"No, no, I can. I'm with the Behavioural Analysis Unit," when your face twisted into confusion, he added, "We use psychology to analyse serial killers and catch them. Well, not just serial killers, actually. But that's what we focus on."

"And it works?" you asked, eyebrows rising as you placed a lid atop his coffee, sliding it out on the pick-up section where he was standing by. His face fell slightly, and so you were quick to add, "Not—I didn't mean it like that. I just mean I'm shocked. That psychology is all you really need to catch a serial killer."

"It's not all we need. There's a lot of other elements that go into finding one. But our primary focus is how their brain works and we use behavioural science to figure that out. Actually, we used to be called the Behavioural Science Unit when it was first created."

He was too busy talking animatedly with his hands for him to have picked up his coffee, and you were too busy watching him with a smile to remind him it was ready. 

When he did reach for it, you could feel the familiar pang of disappointment that had started shooting through you every time he was picking up his coffee and leaving. A weird sensation that left you clawing at the walls of your brain to come up with something to say to keep him there. 

It was probably why you blurted out, "Are you seeing anyone?" Which was followed by stunned silence from him, and regretful silence from yourself. What a question. 

Slowly, he began to shake his head, his lips twitching into a confused frown. "No. I'm—I'm not." 

It shocked you a little. He wasn't jaw dropping, per se. But he was attractive. You had said it a few times to your coworkers whenever they asked why you talked to him so much — there was a running joke that you were already secretly dating him behind their backs. Not funny.

"I was just wondering if you wanted to..." you hesitated. "Go out for dinner? Maybe? I'm so sorry if I'm totally overstepping. In fact, I encourage you to say no, because this is a little weird. I'm so sorry," you rambled when you were met with only silence from him, wondering if you had weirded him out of the ability to talk. 

"With me?" he pushed out, his voice a little higher pitched than usual, and you nodded your head, because maybe he wasn't weirded out. Maybe you had just flustered him. You hoped so, at least.

"Yeah," you said. "Is that weird? Or is it okay? To ask that?"

"It's okay. Yeah. Yes. I would love—like to. I mean, that would be nice. Yeah," he stammered, and you smiled. 

"Here," you held your hand out and gestured for his coffee, taking it back and picking up a Sharpie to write your number atop the lid, before you slid it back to him. "I get off work at one. Call me?"

"I will," he nodded, eyes fixated on the number for a few seconds more, before he returned his eyes to you. "I will. Um—bye!" he took a step back, and you let out a loud laugh when he stumbled into a chair behind him. 

He was sheepish as he waved to you, bidding you another goodbye, the sound of the bell above the door ringing once, and then again when it fell shut. 

And you had, somehow, secured a date with Spencer.

Which turned into two dates. Then three. And then, with some weird stroke of luck and twist of fate, you were spending every evening you could at his apartment, and him at yours. 

But you were yet to kiss. 

Not by any particular reason. Really, nothing either of you did ever really called for a kiss. Which was as frustrating as it was understandable. Frustrating, because you felt like you were simply friends, who sometimes went out for dinner, and had feelings for each other. But he had told you very early on he'd never been with anyone before, let alone ever been on a date. Hence; understandable. 

But frustration was more overwhelming than you had thought, because you were on his couch, blanket draped over both of your bodies, as he read you a book — The Chameleon. A short story by Anton Chekhov (an author whom you were only barely familiar with). And yet, all you could think about was kissing him. 

In your defence, he was very kissable, as you stared at his lips while he spoke, your heart stuttering quite uncomfortably in your chest. You weren't sure what it was precisely about him that made him like that. Maybe it was the natural pout of his lips, or how they twitched in humour at the little jokes Chekhov had written into the book that only made sense in Russian, despite him attempting to translate it for you. 

Whatever it was, it was overriding your senses, and in true Spencer fashion, he hadn't noticed you weren't intently listening to his reading until he glanced down to catch a reaction to something he said. You caught as he closed the book and placed it off to the side, jostling you from your haze. 

"You don't like the book, do you?" he asked, and you were quick to shake your head. 

"No, I do," which was true. The parts you were actively listening to you enjoyed. "Sorry, I'm distracted."

"By what?" he shifted on the couch to face you.

You fell silent at that, the answer hanging on the tip of your tongue, unsure whether or not saying it could ruin things. You didn't think it would. "You."

"I'm distracting?" he asked, eyebrows creasing together and a confused frown pulling his lips down. 

Which confused you. "Yes?"

"I don't think I'm meant to be sorry for that," he said. "But I am."

"You shouldn't be," you breathed out with a small laugh. 

"Right," he nodded his head, laughing too, awkwardly. "How am I distracting?"

You studied his face for a few moments, which ended up being a pathetic excuse for a lip study, because you were fixated on them again, and you decided Spencer probably didn't even realise that that was what you were doing. 

"We haven't kissed yet," you told him, instead. 

"No. We haven't," he agreed. 

"Do you just not want to kiss me?" you asked.

He did that thing he does when he's thinking — furrowed eyebrows and parted lips, eyes blinking a few times, before he comes up with his response. 

"I just don't want you to be disappointed. I've never kissed anyone before."

"I concluded that," you answered. "I won't be disappointed."

"You might be," he mumbled, and his gaze averted from your own, which had another smile stretching across your lips. 

"Only one way to find out, right?"

He hesitated before nodding his head, lifting his eyes back up to look at you. It was then that you learned that, like everything else, you might have to make the first move on him. Again.

The thought made you laugh, and though he wanted to, he didn't get a chance to question why you were laughing, because your hands were on his face and you were pulling him into you, lips meeting his in a gentle kiss that elicited a surprised squeak from him. 

"You've gotta kiss me back," you murmured against his lips, and his response was a quiet 'oh'. 

But he was a fast learner, because soon after he was. Objectively, it wasn't the best kiss you've ever had in your life. But it got better by the second, and he was doing enough to make your heart stutter in your chest, his hands reaching up to cup your own face, palms and fingers covering the mass of your cheeks. 

His hands there provided him the ability to keep you there, and you had to pry them off your face so you were able to pull back for air, breaths coming out in short pants. Only for a short second, because he was chasing your lips again, and you laughed, before letting him kiss you again. And again. And again. 

Until both of you were out of air, and he was glassy-eyed and pink-lipped. Though, you were probably his mirror image of that.

And he smiled at you, crookedly. And you wondered if it was too soon to say you loved him. 

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[ddejavvu]

okay so by now i think all the spencer enjoyers™️ have seen that picture of him in his white unbuttoned shirt covered in red lipstick kisses, but imagine leaving said kisses perchance? earlier season spencer would be like a puddle on the floor and it'd be too cute.

Spencer's job as Designated Driver is backfiring fast. It means that his head is completely clear as your mottled one decides it's time to waste your lipstick, lathing it onto your puckered lips and painting his face with it.

"Another one!" You declare, a giggle hanging off the edge of your voice as you reapply another smeary coat of the product. You reapply every time you kiss his cheeks, which means there's far more of the stuff on your lips than you need there to be.

"Okay that's- that's enough," Spencer reaches for the tube of lipstick, taking it from your hands and clutching it in his tight fist, "You don't need to apply any more. There's enough on your lips already, I- uh, I don't think that's how makeup works."

"But I want the kisses to be fresh," You insist, eyes wide and doe-like, sparkling with earnest, "Spence, I- if the kisses aren't fresh," You explain, voice thick and wobbly, "Then people won't see them, and people won't know you're my best friend! I have to," Your voice tapers down into a sullen whisper, "I have to mark my territory."

Spencer didn't know he was your best friend. He knew he was one of your friends, of course, but he'd have assumed your best was maybe Prentiss or Morgan. Certainly not him, not the man who time and time again fumbles his way through conversations with you because no matter how much time he spends prepping what he'll say, you always make him nervous. He can't say he's exactly calm now, with your bright kiss marks pressed to every inch of skin on his face, but he takes solace in the fact that you're not going to remember this come morning, so he can stutter all he wants and it won't affect his image.

"I think she's right, Reid," Hotch grins, though Spencer can tell the man's holding back the brunt of the expression's force. Spencer curses the man's composure; he handles liquor a lot better than you do. "I mean, God forbid people think you don't know her. It's not like she's sitting in your lap, or anything."

"Mhm!" You nod emphatically from your place in Spencer's lap, his sticky face held in your hands, "Exactly. So I need to kiss you more."

Spencer's not sure what he can say besides yes. He doesn't want to hurt your feelings, make you think he doesn't want to be your best friend. Because he does, perhaps a little more than you realize. But he's not sure he can take the feeling of your lips on his face any more, for fear of turning into a melted puddle of raw awkwardness on the sticky bar floor.

He swallows the saliva that's pooled around his teeth, inhaling the scent of your strawberry shampoo, "Uh- okay. One more."

"Two more." You decide, already leaning up to press not one, not two, but three kisses to his face. One on each of his cheeks, then one that you smash against the curve of his chin. You press until it hurts, intent on really stamping the mark there.

"Perfect!" You declare, and Spencer's sure his breath is shaky when he exhales, a side effect from having your lips so tantalizingly close to his own. "Now- now I'm done." You promise, "And I'm tired, Spence." You suddenly pant, "Can I lay down on you?"

You're already in his lap. Spencer's not sure if he has any reason to say no. Well, besides his uncontrollable, embarrassingly strong, undying adoration for you. But he can't tell you that, not here, not now, so he steels himself as he nods, "Sure. Go- go ahead."

You slump down onto his shoulder so fast it almost hurts, and you're lifelessly snoozing in an instant. Spencer's sure you're not actually asleep yet, but you're so easily dead weight against him that he has to lean up against the back of his chair for support.

"No pictures." He hisses to Hotch who's already taken three, "Stop it."

"Penelope's not here," Hotch goads, sending the picture off before Spencer can demand he delete it, "Someone's gotta be the gossip."

[sanemisstalker]

N/SFW. Minors DNI

CW: GN reader / Men's Mental Health IG ???

KNY characters that I think are more prone to cumming in their pants / NSFW

Giyu

-He's inexperienced.

-I admire the almost fandom consensus of him being either resident, sexy, black haired, quiet anime boy, and/or 'nobody likes this friendless loser, he definitely has a tumblr'

-Any attention, platonic or not, from someone he's attracted to is enough to make Giyu get an apparent boner. He's prone to them when the people he admires say genuinely nice things to him.

-He doesn't get to hear nice things a lot, nor does he take compliments easily, so when he believes them, his body can't help but believe them too.

-He'd rather it not be that way, but due to his floundering mental health, and general isolation, Giyu isn't jerking off very often, nor is he able to get it up when he wants to, so he just goes... months without thinking about it sometimes.

-Could definitely cum from kissing too hard. Not just kissing, but particularly the rough treatment.

-Giyu must be incredibly touch starved, I imagine. I can't fiction the last time he's hugged someone. That scene where he's holding Shinobu, perhaps?

-So when he's getting so much attention, especially so much positive, romantic attention, even if it's a little rough, I'm sure his dick would be at full mast.

-he doesn't think he's predisposed to masochism or anything. He'd hope he wasn't, but it feels better when he's kissing, and maybe his hair is being pulled on, just a little.

-he'd be very embarassed. He wouldn't cry or anything, but I think he'd get up and leave the room. He knows you knew what happened, he didn't moan, but he flinched because the build up was so immediate, and he just couldn't stop.

-How pathetic. He can't show his face infront of you ever again. All he does is ruin good things. You're definitely disgusted by him.

-Even if he didn't realize how pretty his face looked during his orgasm.

Gyutaro

-Everyday I fight the gyutaro incel allegations, and everyday I fail.

-Gyutaro is socially inept, to put it blatantly. He spends an incredible amount of time locked away in his sister, and rarely chooses to come out unless eating for the two, or-

-if he needs to jerk off. A rarity, nowadays. Looking the way he looks can do a real number on one's ability to self-pleasure. He also isn't able to seek out assistance from any brothels- He still looks the way he looks. He's no Muzan- blessed with the ability to change his appearance at will.

-So when you're on top of Gyutaro, and he feels the curve of your ass in his palm, and your sex is positioned right on top of his, just barely grazing his clothed cock, as you try and teach him how to kiss (he's doing his best, but he knows he's not good-)

-He cums, and he cums hard. He grips down on your hips, and goes wide eyed, unable to stop the moan that rips its way from his throat... and then quickly moves you off of him.

-He isn't even finished when he moves you, he's shakey armed, and he nearly drops you.

-he's mortified. After all this time, he finally gets someone willing to touch him, and he blows it. He's borderline inconsolable- switching between begging you not to look at him and begging you not to hate him-

-but the noise he made was just so... pathetic.

Haganezuka

-Men dedicated to their craft don't have time to cum? Silly of you to assume he's ever even seen another person naked. That would imply he looked away from a sword for long enough to register it.

-On a completely serious note (as serious as I can be writing this), It'd be quite awkward interacting with Haganezuka sexually. His mind has been so consumed by perfection that, even if he wasn't dedicated to the blade, he's almost prevented himself from ever being able to cum in a social setting.

-He's developed a phobia of new situations he can't control. Especially sexual ones. Swords are easy and gratifying. Why would he ever need to cum when he can just make a sword and have it be respected and revered. Wouldn't that be nice-

-So when you started rubbing him over his pants, he was, admittedly, panicking. It's not like he went nearly 4 decades without using his dick... He'd just... gone 2 and a half decades without using his dick. Nowhere near the same.

-You'd barely even touched it, barely even pressed your lips to his neck, and Haganezuka was panting.

-The fear coursing through his veins, and the attention his forgotten cock was receiving- He grew more unsightly by the second...

-and then you pressed a particularly soft kiss to the corner of his lips and he was done for. That was his first kiss-

-Though shocked, you'd pump Haganezuka through his orgasm. It'd be enough to go through his pants, and spill over your hand.

-He'd grip your robes, and will you closer to him. His heels would slam into the floorboard, and he'd try to bury his face in your neck, attempting to muffle the groan he'd loose, only to fail tremendously.

-He'd be huffy after. Mad at himself and disguising it as being mad at you.

-'Well, maybe you shouldn't touch me anymore, if you found it so gross! Did you consider that? Just not touching me- ever?'

-but you saw how sad he looked when you said you'd do whatever he wanted. What a simple man.

[0mg-bird]

i would love it if you did a fic about bob finally introducing his shyer!girlfriend to the daggers! cute teasing, fluff, all the works <3

unrelated, but would you ever consider making a masterlist?

Hi! Thank you for the ask! And yes, I will be working on a master list soon, it just takes too much work for me to do as of this moment 😭. Bear with me y’all! I’m new at this! Anyway, here’s the story, hope you don’t hate it <3

Bob Floyd x Shy!Girlfriend Reader

“No.”

“Sweetheart.”

“Absolutely not, Robert.”

Bob sighed, leaning against the door while he watched you comb your hair. He’d brought up the idea he’d been toying with all day, only to get the answer he suspected he was going to get from you.

“Honey, it won’t be horrible. Look, the squad wants to meet you, and I want to introduce you to them."

He's hard to resist, looking at you with those puppy dog eyes of his. You understood his reasoning, but the idea of being surrounded on the beach with a bunch of cocky aviators...well, that was something you didn't really like the idea of.

You groan, looking at his reflection in the mirror before fully turning to face him. You give him a pouty look, one that makes him come forward and hold your face in his hands. "They're not gonna like me." You say, muffled from the way your cheeks are squished in his hold.

"Yes they will." He says.

"I'm boring."

"Your the most interesting thing in the world, honey."

He was always so sweet with his words, he calms your nerves every time. You know it means something to him to have his squad know who his girl is, so you try and be brave, pushing your worry out of your mind. You smile reassuringly. "Okay." You say. "It's a date."

Bob smiles, leaning down to kiss your lips, then your forehead. "It'll be a good day, I promise."

As you get into his bed, surrounded by the scent of him, he pulls you closer. "Maybe then they'll stop saying I'll never get laid." He states, making you look at him with disbelief.

"What, are we in middle school?" You ask.

He lightly chuckles. "You're gonna see the level of immaturity these guys have on Saturday, then you'll understand."

And when Saturday came, you gripped onto his hand like your life depended on it. You wore a white baby doll dress over your bikini, your sandals in your hand as you walked across the sand. As the two of you come closer, you see the group of pilots all gathered, setting up camp.

"Well, look who showed up." One of them call out as you come to join them.

You immediately blush at the amount of eyes on you They all look you over, almost like they were detectives and you were a case they needed to crack. You get introduced to them and quickly come to learn just what Bob meant, this group of the best fighter pilots in North America were no better than kids.

"I uh, I brought some snacks if y'all want some." You say, laying out multiple floral tupperware containers that were filled with homemade goods. Immediately, the boys were on it, fighting over who got what. They reminded you of seagulls.

Natasha, who was the most excited to meet the girl who Bob spoke about non stop, is yelling at the boys to mind their manners. "You wouldn't even think they were functioning adults." She jokes, making you smile.

You wait till the last minute to take your cover off, looking at the well built bodies around you made you retreat to modesty as a defense. You didn't put on your usual bathing suit because Bob said you should wear his favorite one. One that showed more skin, one that drew more attention to you. Stupidly, you agreed with him and put it on. You regret that decision now.

"Aren't you hot?" Nat asks as she pulls her tank top off.

"Oh no, I'm good." You say, giving her an awkward smile and then dig in your bag for the bottle of sunscreen.

You didn't really think it'd be embarrassing to pursue the routine you always have with Bob when you come to the beach, so as he, Hangman, Coyote and Rooster stand, talking about something way above your pay grade, you come to Bob's side. You try not to interrupt their conversation, but words slowly start to slow and they get distracted by the way you pull Bob's glasses off his face. You squirt some of the sunscreen out and into your hands, then you gently apply it to his face. The three others stop and watch, faces full of amusement as you make sure he has an even coverage. Bob doesn't mind, he was never one to be embarrassed of the loving acts you do for him, so you find it strange when you turn around and see the guys watching you.

"That's awfully sweet of you." Coyote comments, and you make the mistake of taking him literally.

"Bob, do you get your mom to fly in and do it for you when she's not around or do you just risk the sunburn?" Hangman teases, making the other two laugh.

You look at the tall aviator. "Sunscreens important, Jake, do you need some? I could help you with it or I'm sure your boyfriend here could do it for you." You say, motioning to Coyote.

Rooster bursts with laughter, wheezing at the joke you make, and behind you, Bob stands with a proud and smug look on his face.

Jake fumbles with his words, in disbelief that you’re being outspoken.

Back at your beach blanket, you clip your hair up and look around, making sure no eyes were directly on you as you pull your dress off and drop it into your bag. Any previous jokes that some of the boys made about Bob finding a goody-two-shoes for a girlfriend, are immediately regretted when they see how great you look in a bikini.

Payback looks ultimately confused. "Anyone else wondering how Baby on Board gets to sleep with a girl like that?" He asks out of ear shot from you.

"Probably because he's not a total dick like you are." Nat suggests.

"Bobby?" You get his attention as you lay on the blanket, holding up the sunscreen, silently asking him to get your back so you can tan for awhile.

At the sound of the name, some of the boys laugh, making you blush.

"Hey, Bobby, will you get my back next?" Fanboy teases, making Bob glare as he sits beside you. "Did he just glare at me?" He asks, in utter disbelief that Bob was capable of it.

Bob undoes the back of your suit, gently running his hands over your bare skin. "Are you good here for awhile? We're gonna play a game of dog fight football." He asks.

You turn your head to look at him. "I'll survive."

He ties your suit back together, then meets your lips as you lean up to kiss him.

It was peaceful, laying and watching the aviators goof around, running up and down the beach. You had no idea that the questions being asked between plays were all about you.

"What'd you do in order to win her over?" Rooster asks, grunting as he throws the football.

"I'm still trying to figure that out." Bob huffs, blocking Fanboy so he can't intercept.

"She's cute, doesn't talk much though." Fanboy adds.

"She does, just not to people she barely knows." Bob defends.

As Hangman runs by, he pauses. "Be honest with us, Bobby, you ever get bored of her?"

Bob looks at him like he's crazy. "Never. One of these days, Hangman, you'll learn that crazy bar girls don't make girlfriends. Maybe my girl's shy but she's a whole lot better than whatever new girl you can't make stick around."

The ones around them laugh at Hangman getting called out for the second time today.

"Jokes aside." Rooster says. "I'm happy for you, man, she seems good to you."

Bob looks back at you lazily reading a book, your feet kicking back and fourth in the air behind you. "Yeah, I really like her...actually I'm gonna ask her to move in."

They all gasp.

"We'll say a prayer for you man." Coyote shakes his head.

At some point, you had rolled onto you back and let your hair down, sunglasses on your face as you rest your eyes. Though, your sun is covered by a shadow after a while. You open our eyes, gazing up at the man who's standing above you. You prop yourself up on your elbows.

"Hi." You grin, watching as Bob pulls his sweaty shirt off, revealing his toned upper body. You move your sunglasses down your nose to get a better look, then take them off entirely.

"Hey, you ready to go into the water?" He asks, making you shake your head.

"I'm good on dry land, sailor."

Bob gives you a smirk. "Now, that's just not going to do."

"I'm okay here, Bobby, go have fun with your squad, they're already in the water." You say.

"So you want me to join them and leave you here?" He asks, making you nod in agreement.

He hums, pausing before leaning down and scooping you into his arms. You gasp, flailing in his hold but his grip is too strong. "Bobby, no! Put me down!"

"Not a chance."

You form a death grip, arms holding tightly around his neck as he makes it to the water with you. "Don't do this." You laugh loudly.

"Are you ready?" He asks.

"No! Bobby!"

He loosens his grip, pretending to drop you, making you yell and tighten your grip around him even more. The dagger squad starts chanting ‘overboard’, and you feel the cool water slosh up against you as Bob walks further in.

“Bobby!”

“One.”

“No, baby, please.”

“Two.”

“Robert Floyd!”

“Three!”

He falls sideways into the water with you, making you sink under before you pop back up, wiping your eyes. You can’t help but laugh, splashing him as he pops up in front of you.

“I can’t believe you.” You say, wrapping your arms around him.

He grins boyishly. “Sorry, honey.”

The squad watches as the two of you swim beside each other.

“So…Bob is getting laid.” Coyote says.

“He’s the only one who is.” Rooster adds.

[nastyaromatherapy]

ok but what about ethan landry stalking the reader as ghost face for a while and him finally sneaking in to her house one night cause he can’t hold back. y/n she knew that ghost face was stalking her and she also knew that it was ethan so she puts a pretty lacy nightgown on and waits for him. he finds out that she knows because when he walks into her room she gets up from her bed and he pins her to a wall and she says something like ‘i want you so bad ethan’ so he fucks her till she can’t think or speak.

(maybe some praises like good girl and pretty girl but you definitely don’t need to write those in if those aren’t your thing)

ALSO i just love your writing so much like omg i even read some of your other fanfics for different characters even though i don’t want them cause i just love the way you write 😭

Ghostface's Good Girl (18+)

Your stalker, Ethan, couldn't hold back one night and went inside your house to take what was his.

pairing - stalker!ethan landry x reader

one shot length, 3.0k+ word fic

warnings: PIV, dom ethan, creampie, praising, minor slapping and choking, finger sucking, BJ, slight corruption, teensy size kink, ghostface ethan, whore reader, name calling, orgasm control

Ethan Landry loved you. However, it was all parasocial. You barely knew him. The only thing you knew was that he was Chad's roommate. You saw him occasionally when you were over at Chad's place.

“Hey, y/n,” he would wave to you at a weak attempt at getting closer to you. It was awkward, especially since at the time, he didn't know you and Chad were fuck buddies. He had always liked you and thought you were really hot.

You on the other hand, had never even thought about it. He looked so innocent, so sweet, and Chad was like his older brother. It'd be weird to screw with your fuck buddy's younger brother.

For Ethan, hearing the two of you fuck at night was both a blessing and a curse. He reveled in hearing your moans and begs, biting his lip to keep quiet as he touched himself to your sounds. He hated how it was Chad fucking you, hated more how you were whoring around, knowing Chad wasn't the only guy you were messing with at the time.

He knew that if you were his, he'd put you in your place. You wouldn't be caught with other guys because he'd be the only guy you'd ever need. And once you and Chad broke things off, that's when he started to stalk you.

I mean, before then, he would keep some of your belongings you left at his place as keepsakes and souvenirs, but only now would he begin what he'd label as stalking.

He started visiting the coffee shop you worked at more, too afraid to order anything or say hi; he'd just sit in a corner on his phone, scrolling through your instagram. When your shift would finish, at seven pm, he'd rush over to your place, arriving way before you did.

Straight after work you'd get into the shower, which pissed him off. As sick as he was, he knew he couldn't enter your house. There were no windows in your shower, obviously, and you'd keep your curtains closed.

Oh, when you finished, though, he'd watch through your bedroom window in ghostface attire as you dried and lotioned your legs, so badly wanting to feel your soft skin against his.

Everything about you was so delicate. You were so softspoken, even your whines which he heard through thin walls were pretty and angelic. He needed to know how it'd feel to corrupt you, and keep you as his pretty doll.

And he'd do this for nights, the same routine. Every night he'd watch you get out of the shower and get ready for bed, and it took everything in him to not just break in and take what was his.

Ethan Landry's secret was no secret though, which you found adorable. Did he really think you wouldn't notice him sneaking looks at the cafe? Did he really think you wouldn't notice his car parked in a confused neighbors driveway, every night you came home? Both you and him expected you to be scared, concerned, and disturbed. But in reality, you loved the idea of Ethan obsessing over you, and following you around like a puppy. You found it cute how he couldn't muster up the courage to just talk to you, and ended up resorting to stalking.

You tried amping him up, often discarding worn panties in the bin at night. Was the shuffling and tipped over trash raccoons? No, it was Ethan. At first. you just found it cute, like when a little boy likes an older girl that's way out of his league. It was only after a month that you started to question what being with Ethan would actually entail.

Would he by kind, sweet, and gentle, massaging your feet? Or would he be jealous, and violent? The thoughts kept you up at night. Oh, and the day you almost “caught” him, and he dashed so quickly he left his dainty Nancy Loomis mask, you'd say you were in love too. Your stalker, Ethan Landry, was ghostface. That only made things more exciting.

Day after day, it got harder and harder for him to not just go inside. After time, you decided to leave your door unlocked. He noticed, and it confused him. You'd never changed your routine before. Then he started to ponder, did you know?

One night, you changed your routine drastically. You oiled your legs, discarding the lotion you used to use. You dressed into a lacy lingerie slip, unusual since you usually wore a victoria pajama set.

He was already growing hard in his pants, his mask concealing his needy eyes. He was desperate to feel you, and needed to take a step inside. The stairs creaked as he walked up them onto your porch, and he hesitated before laying a hand on your doorknob. He sharply inhaled before twisting it, making his way inside.

You noticed his steps on the ground, due to his huge boots, and waited anxiously for him to enter your room. He slowly scurried his way through your house, finally opening up the door to your room.

He entered with the iconic ghostface head tilt, and your breath hitched. You slowly stood up, trying to hold back your blush for the masked killer who stood inches higher above you. Like lightning he pinned you against your poster covered wall by your throat, his hand easily wrapping around it. You left your mouth agape and choked a little, staring deeply into the dark puddles where the mask covered his eyes.

He noticed how you easily and willingly complied and softened his grip, letting you quickly let out short breaths. “I know it's you, Ethan,” you whispered breathily, and his face contorted- although you couldn't see, into a writhe of concern. “I want you so bad,” you whined, and your hands made way to under his mask, lifting it up to expose his face, curls frizzy since the mask wasn't lined with satin.

He suspected you knew, but he never actually thought his suspicions would be correct. He digressed, however, and continued his concentrated activities. “And you can have me,” he spoke, his voice low and seductive. “But know that your compliance labels you as mine. Do I make myself clear?” You swallowed and nodded, leading him to lean into your ear, his steady breaths making the hairs on your neck stand up.

“Do I make, myself clear?” He repeated through gritted teeth, squeezing your neck tighter as he spoke, before slowly diluting while awaiting a response. “Yes, sir,” you choked out almost inaudibly, but he caught it.

“Good girl,” he cooed as he got even closer and toyed with the straps of your dress. When he towered above you, your head was tilted upwards to meet his eyes; his lanky yet broad figure was just as frightening as alluring.

“You're usually so talkative in class,” he whispered cunningly, dragging his gloved finger along your jawline. “Why so silent now?” He asked, alluding to your sudden meek behavior.

You didn't answer, but when you saw him continue to stare like a deer in headlights, you whispered, “I just want to be good for you.” He clicked his tongue and journeyed his hand up, from your jaw to your cheek, stroking it lightly with his thumb. With your mouth slightly agape, his thumb slowly shifted closer and closer to your lips, before finally making contact. You inhaled through your mouth slightly, mimicking a silent gasp.

His finger grazed your soft lips, lightly tapping it for you to open even wider, requesting entry. “Open,” he ordered when you didn't get the message. Once you furtherly gaped your mouth, he gave a nod of approval before sliding his thumb inside. Not needing to be told twice, you didn't hesitate to clamp around his finger, sucking it lightly.

“That's it,” he whispered as you hollowed your cheeks around his thumb. “Just like that.” You moaned slightly around his finger, leading him to groan in response. The interaction made you so desperate and painfully wet, and you squirmed uncomfortably, your thighs awkwardly trying to gain friction on their own.

He noticed this and smirked, finding it cute how impatient you were being. With his hand still on your cheek, he stroked it gently, the skin so silky and the peach fuzz so soft. He was about to ask a question, so he removed his thumb from your mouth since he expected an answer. “Are you gonna be my good girl tonight?” He asked huskily, making sure you knew what you were getting yourself into, once more.

You nodded, which wasn't enough for Ethan, who wasn't reluctant to strike your cheek when you didn't answer, leaving a bright red mark. You cried in the form of a moan as his rough hand made contact with your dainty skin, finally realizing which Ethan you'd been fantasizing about you'd get tonight. A masked, violent, short-tempered killer. “Yes, sir,” you spoke.

He didn't feel you were ready for praise, yet, and he tossed you onto your bed, face forward. Your legs dangled off the edge, showcasing your tulle-trimmed socks. When you attempted to turn onto your back he laid his hand on it, keeping you in place. “Stay still,” he huffed, making you quickly do as told. He kneeled below your lowish platformed bed, flipping your dress up to expose you ass.

He leaned in, and you whined as you felt his hot breath against your almost exposed cunt. Your pretty white panties were still covering your pussy, although they were almost see through since they were so sopping. “God you're a slut, so fucking wet,” we muttered to himself as he hooked the gusset in his fingers, revealing your dripping sex.

He removed his gloves before sliding his fingers up and down your slippery folds, making you whine. “Ethan,” you whimpered, wretchedly grinding against his hand. He spit on your cunt, before licking a stripe down it, latching onto your clit. He groaned as he was living his dream of tasting you, hands spreading your cheeks apart for easier access.

“F-fuck,” you moaned as his tongue fucked your hole, kicking your legs a bit so you didn't get too overwhelmed. He chuckled when he noticed, making your lips flutter, slightly humiliated. Soft “ah's” left your lips, and they gradually grew louder and louder the closer you got.

You felt the warmth build up in your stomach as you grew more sensitive to each movement of his tongue as you neared the edge. “Ethan,” you sobbed. “’Gonna, cum,” you whimpered, and he responded by abruptly pulling away, edging you. You whined in disapproval at his absent tongue that was taken away without warning, wanting to cum so badly.

He laughed softly and stood, quick to pull you up with him by your hips. “I control when you cum,” he taught, making you nod before quickly remembering he disliked that. “Yes sir,” you whispered sweetly, your eyes large and doe. He smugly smirked at your response, “Good girl.” You loved the affection you seemed to gain from him.

“Now get on your knees,” he ordered as he removed his cloak, discarding it in a corner of your room. You kneeled below him, and he started to undo the buttons on his black slacks, pulling them down and kicking them off his ankles. He was left in his boxers, and your eyes couldn't pull away from his erection.

You started to venture your hands closer to his waistband, but for safe measure, you watched his eyes to see if he was okay with that. His eyes said nothing. That was extremely unhelpful. What you’d learned so far was that Ethan was often vague and not very talkative about what he wanted.

Noticing how he didn’t say anything and how he didn’t seem angry, you gripped his boxers, pulling them down to his ankles in a swift motion, revealing his erect cock. He gave a soft sigh as his dick was released and no longer confined.

He chuckled when he saw you contemplating whether or not to touch it, afraid of upsetting him. “This is the hardest you’ve ever gotten me,” he whispered perversely, smiling a little as he enjoyed this a lot. “Better than staring through windows, huh?” You asked, fighting your urge to just grab it and stroke him. He nodded and reached for his cock, stroking it gently.

“Open your mouth,” he spoke to you as he tapped the tip against your lips. You opened your mouth nice and wide to accommodate his girth, and he spoke words of approval, “That’s my pretty girl,” before sliding himself in.

Your mouth flooded with the smell and taste of him, making your eyes water a bit as it hit you so intensely. You hollowed your cheeks as you bobbed up and down the head, using your hand to stroke the base. He groaned, pushing into you a little further. “Fuckk.”

His curls covered his eyes as he looked down, watching you suck on his length, still wearing the cute nightie. When strands of hair covered your face, which made it harder for you to see him, you’d push them behind your ear, being loyal and giving your undivided attention to him. He loved when you moaned around his length, showing how much you enjoyed it.

Your mouth was warm and hot, and his cock relished in the higher temperatures that you engulfed him in. He threw his head back, absentmindedly thrusting forward ever so slightly, making you gag from time to time.

Your eyes were red as they burned with unshed tears, his scrotum feeling fuller and heavier the deeper in your mouth you took him. “God,” he moaned in a strained voice, feeling himself grow close. He didn’t want to cum yet, though, so he pulled out of your mouth.

You gasped for air as saliva dripped down your chin, feeling empty without his cock in your mouth. He smirked as he looked down at you and ordered, “Get on the bed.” You quickly hopped off your knees and crawled onto your mattress, and he was right behind you with a hand on your waist to help position you.

He clawed at your nightie before taking it off, pulling it up over your head. You were flipped onto your back, and he pulled your legs up so your feet were leveled with his shoulders. He pulled your panties off, leaving you completely bare underneath him.

“Please, Ethan,” you whined as he rubbed his cock up and down your wet slit, your cunt gaping, awaiting entry. He tilted his head at you, “Please what?” You swallowed and looked away, not answering him.

“Answer, bitch,” he fumed, placing his hand on your neck, squeezing your pipe ever so slightly. You lightly choked before attempting to speak, “P-please fuck me, Ethan.” He removed his hand from your neck and cockily smirked.

“Yeah? Does my slutty little princess need to be fucked by my cock?” He taunted, and you vigorously nodded in response.

Your breath hitched as he lined himself up with your entrance, and he threw his head back and inhaled before sliding in. “Fuck!” You yelped as he stretched you out so beautifully. Your legs trembled under him as he slowly started to thrust into you, his movements rhythmic.

“That’s it, take my cock,” he groaned, his hands moving to grip your soft hips. As he started to speed up, you couldn’t help but get louder. You turned your head around to try and hide your face, but he caught on.

“Look at me,” he ordered, his voice stern and demanding. You slowly turned your head back around, trying your best to suppress the faces he was fucking into you. He chuckled at the way your features contorted, especially when he went deeper.

Once he saw that your cunt was perfectly stretched around him, he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder to get a new angle. You were lifted off the mattress ever so slightly, as your leg didn’t reach that high naturally.

He started to fuck you roughly, his cock pistoning in and out of your starving cunt. “Ethan!” You screamed, which only made him needier. You could no longer suppress your moans now, as your heart was racing and your breathing was erratic. His hands clawed into your hips painfully, but you could only focus on the pleasure he was giving you.

“Do I do it better than Chad? I don’t even know why you wasted time on his lame ass; he didn't deserve someone as gorgeous as you. My pretty girl,” he groaned, each word getting whinier and whinier. “Yes, Ethan,” you cried, your toes curling. “You fuck me so much better than Chad; don’t stop, please.”

He gripped your hips so harshly that your ass was completely lifted off the bed. Seeing this, he picked you up entirely, slamming into you as you tried to hold on tight to him. “Fuck! Ethan!” You moaned as he took every inch of you.

“You’re mine,” he huskily whispered into your ear as he fucked the lights out of you. You nodded. “Yes, Ethan. I’m yours,” you moaned as you shut your eyes tightly, completely overwhelmed from the stimulation. “Can I cum?” You asked, and Ethan didn’t answer. His hands that were gripping your ass gave it a light smack, making you jump a little.

“Holy shit,” he groaned, going deeper, getting closer. “Please Ethan!” You repeated. “Please let me cum!” You whimpered as he tore your pussy apart. He couldn’t hold back anymore; your whines turned him on so much, and he buried himself in your cunt as he shot his load inside you. “Cum,” he whispered into your ear, and you wasted no time to release.

You screamed, and your legs vibrated as you came all over his cock, just as his warm cum filled your pussy. “Take all my cum, good girl.” After he calmed down, he put you back on the bed and joined you.

He laid on the bed and placed you on top of him, his hand reaching down to rub your sensitive clit. You moaned as he touched you, and then you moaned into his mouth as he leaned in to kiss you. His lips pressed against your pillowy ones, and from the way you whimpered into the kiss, he felt himself getting hard again.

“I want you to ride me, okay?” He asked, although it was meant as an order, not a question. “Yes, sir,” you obeyed. He ran his hand through your soft, untangled hair, giving you a peck. What you didn’t know right now was that you were now Ethan’s. You didn’t know before, but all this time he’d been training you to be his, to be his perfect fuckdoll. “Good girl.”

[jungwondazed]

18+ only / jungwon jealous mutual masturbation

a/n: i am not a big fan of this piece, didn't revise too much and wrote it all in one sitting

the walk back to the apartment was a bit more awkward than usual. he still kept his hand on your lower back, he still opened the car door for you, and he still guided you down the hallway. but he was quiet, far too quiet.

even the way he sat on the opposite end of the couch made you wary that jungwon wasn't how he was when you both left to go out tonight, something was off.

you cleared your throat while he was lost in thought, staring far too hard at his hand, and he looked up with a slight raise of his brows. his face was tinted pink from the wine and you thought he was cuter than ever. if things were how they normally were, you would've kissed him all over his face.

he was jealous. he had to have been. otherwise it wouldn't have been this way, it's never this way.

on the small sofa of your living room, he had you spread apart with your clothes scattered all over the floor.

"touch yourself for me," he breathed out, sitting fully clothed on the small rocking chair across from you.

it was mortifying, to be completely undressed. and not to mention the vulgar position he had you in.

"please," you weakly whimper out, confused at what you were even pleading for.

"come on, show me" he was red, a few shades deeper than what he looked like when you first noticed the alcoholic flush.

he slowly unbuttoned his pants, rubbing himself through his briefs and you squirmed at how intimate this was even if he wasn't touching you at all.

maybe it was the way the waiter was eyeing you, or worse, how you responded. you had a problem with not recognizing people's advances, which resulted in you unintentionally giving your attention away. but you were just being polite, you were always this way. although, if it was jungwon and a waitress in that exact situation, you could see why an exchange like that would have anybody riled up.

he was pumping himself now, a look of lust behind his dark eyes. and you were two fingers deep following the pace of his hand.

"not enough," you whine out, and he chuckles softly seeing your dissatisfaction at your own fingers.

he cups his hand to run over the tip of his penis over and over, grunting at the sensitive sensation. his eyes close gently, as if the pleasure was overwhelming, and you were quite irritated with how good he probably felt.

"put another one in," he demands, to which you shake your head, it'd be far too much if you had three. you couldn't take it. two wasn't enough, three was too much.

"trust me, just do what i say." his mouth was slightly open, barely able to get his own words out. he was gorgeous while masturbating, the fall and rise of his chest, the sheen of sweat on his forehead, and the way you could note all of the small crevices that formed on his face when aroused. he looked good, he looked really good.

you stick another finger in, wincing at the stretch because you never fingered yourself anymore. you notice him pausing his movements to gaze at you, an expression of fascination. he's beyond turned on, you see it in the way he looks at you.

your fingers pump in and out of , slow at first, and then faster. this does feel good, doesn't it? is this what you wanted jungwon? you wanted to get close, so close you could cum all over your hand and rub it in his face that you're more than capable of this too.

"curl your fingers for me, ___. curl them" he pumps himself from the base to the tip, quick and hard. he's close too. his groans and grunts are weaker and not as composed.

you curl your fingers, hitting that spot that always brings you to your orgasm and you cum as jungwon strokes himself once more, his own semen shooting out of his tip. you fuck yourself through your orgasm as he keeps stroking, heavily breathing through his lips and gripping at the armrest.

long minutes later does he get up out of his seat to sit besides you, leaning in to kiss your jaw and down to your neck. he always kisses you in these places, before moving to your lips. the kisses are hard, like he had a purpose all along.

you pull back to catch your breath, brows furrowed at his glowy face and half-closed eyes. he looked pleasant like he was enjoying himself.

"what was all this for?" you ask him, nearly out of breath post orgasm and mid make out session.

he leans back in to resume the kiss, ignoring your question, pulling you on top of him to guide you down his length. he wanted you now. he wanted you in this way.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Can I request some Bachelor/Bachelorett's of your choice asking the farmer to be their partner at the flower dance? It'd be cute if they could ask us instead of the farmer always taking the initiative

Bachelors/ettes of my choice? Hmm, since it's my choice here, I've chosen.... All SDV marriage candidate :D

Thanks for the ask, dear anon! Enjoy! 🫰💕

_________________________________________

SDV bachelors/ettes asking Farmer to be their dance partner at the Flower Dance:

SDV bachelors:

Alex:

Alex tries to make Farmer's question sound casual.

Something like, "Hey, I'd like to ask you to be my dance partner, but if you say no, that's okay, it won't hurt me in any way."

(He can't fool himself, It will make him sad if Farmer says no).

So the athlete almost jumped up on the spot with joy when Farmer agreed. But he tried to play it cool.

"So, shall we go and take our place on the dance floor?"

Alex was so happy, and started to get a little nervous not to mess it up.

Elliott:

"Farmer, my friend! I've been preparing for this celebration for a couple of days now, and I would be immensely happy if you would honoring me of agreeing to be my dance partner."

Elliott hopes the invitation wasn't too pompous. Otherwise, the writer was already worried he'd ruined everything.

Maybe Farmer already had a partner and Elliott with his speech made them feel pressured and awkward?

But Farmer's smile and nod of agreement said otherwise.

"Really? Oh, delightful! Then let's go rehearse our moves before the festival starts." Words can't describe how happy Elliott is.

Sebastian:

Because Sebastian doesn't really like dancing in public, asking someone to dance is a big step for him.

No, for real. Farmer must be a very dear friend to him (or maybe something more), if the local emo stepped out of his comfort zone to ask them to dance.

And his efforts paid off - Farmer agreed without delay.

Now, even the spring sun and heat will not spoil Sebby's mood.

Sam and Abigail start teasing Sebastian a little bit (affectionate) that he'll now have a silly smile on his face all day long.

Sam:

Sam is simply the epitome of a golden retriever who can get anything he wants with his charm alone. (Sam doesn't realise it himself, but still).

And even though he's a little nervous, it doesn't hurt his charm at all.

"Hey, Farmer. I've been thinking... Would you be interested in becoming my dance partner? If you don't mind."

Look at his puppy dog eyes, warm smile and slightly pink cheeks. How could you say no to him?

Here, Farmer didn't refuse either.

"Super! Thanks a lot! Let's take our positions then, we're about to dance!"

Harvey:

It took Harvey about fifteen or twenty minutes to gather the will to dare to ask Farmer to dance.

It seemed like an easy task for a doctor, but his throat was immediately dry and his heart was pounding frantically in his chest.

"Farmer, I was wondering if you'd like-" "To dance with you? Sure thing, Harvey!"

Well, that was easier than he thought. And why was Harvey getting worried over nothing?

Now, the only thing left for him to do was to wait for the dance to start and hope Harvey didn't step on Farmer's foot out of excitement.

Shane:

To be honest, Shane didn't dare ask Farmer for fear of rejection.

But eventually Jas intervened, telling Farmer that "uncle Shane wants to talk to you" ("Jas!").

Well, since the conversation is already inevitable, Shane has to ask them.

"Do you want to be my dance partner?" "Of course, Shane, I'd love to!"

The heck, what... Why was it so easy?

Now they're both dancing, he can't believe it! Shane is pleased.

(In the background, Jas smiles at her uncle and Farmer as they both walk to the dance floor).

SDV bachelorettes:

Leah:

Probably, of all the candidates present, Leah is the calmest. Why make something up when you can just ask them straight out?

"Hey, Farmer. If you don't have a dance partner, we can dance together."

The artist was quite okay to take no for an answer.

Still, glad that Farmer agreed to her request.

"Cool. I'll get us a good spot so we don't bake directly in the sun while dancing."

Honesty and calmness are key to her success.

Penny:

Yoba, give her strength and courage...

Penny was embarrassed to even look in Farmer's direction, let alone start a conversation with them.

Someone she knows should help nudge her to ask Farmer (Emily or Maru).

The young teacher was so nervous, she didn't even notice that Farmer smilingly agreed to her offer to be a dance partner.

Wait, what? She heard everything right? They said yes?

Oh well... then Penny went to get prepared (get prepared mentally not to faint from happiness).

Abigail:

"Ugh, stupid Flower dance... Mum made me wear this dumb dress again..." *notices Farmer* "Hey, Farmer~ Do you have a dance partner already?"

Abigail isn't really shy, to be honest.

Won't ask Farmer directly about dancing, but her hints are impossible not to recognise.

She was terribly relieved that Farmer agreed and immediately grabbed their hand, dragging them towards the dance floor.

Abby hopes her mother wouldn't think that she liked dancing now, or Caroline would want to take her to aerobics later.

Maru:

Maru was still practising her speech to Farmer from a day ago. She was really hoping that they would agree to dance with her at the festival.

That doesn't change the fact that even though she was prepared, Maru was a little nervous for fear of rejection.

Still, until you ask them, you won't know, right?

When Farmer approached her on their own, Maru finally asked them.

The young inventor's fears were in vain: the Farmer said yes immediately!

Oh, she couldn't wait to take her place to dance with Farmer!

Emily:

Emily is just overjoyed! A beautiful day, a beautiful atmosphere, a beautiful forest... The spirits are favouring them today.

Oh, there's the Farmer! She immediately ran up to them to ask them to dance.

The blue-haired girl was too excited to even think about the fact that Farmer might refuse her....

But that wouldn't happen, because Farmer agreed without hesitation!

Emily, even more overjoyed, immediately took them to the dance floor, letting them rehearse the dance together before festival starts.

Haley:

"Farmer. I'm you want, I might dance with you~"

Haley doesn't know if her charm will work, since last year she refused to dance with them. Yeah, awkward...

So she won't be surprised if they turn her down. But will be surprised when Farmer immediately agrees.

"Great! Then we need to rehearse to make everything perfect. I've already been Flowers Queen for a few years, I don't want to give up the title."

Haley doesn't care about the title anymore, she's dancing with Farmer! Hee hee~

[gemini-sensei]

Poly!Losers!Eli and Demetri x Shy!Popular!Reader Headcanons

Req: I saw your post about popular reader and was wondering if you could do a poly loser Eli and demetri with a shy popular reader headcanons please

CW: small amount of smut including voyeurism and a little bit of oral (male receiving), insecurity.

Tags: @phoenix062

✨️ Reader never wanted to be popular. She's just popular by proxy. She always hung out with Yasmine and Moon as a kids and as they got older they became the popular kids, bringing Reader along for the ride. She doesn't like the attention and herbfriends know that, so they kind of act like her protectors; especially when they can tell the attention and chatter are too much for her.

✨️ Eli and Demetri are total losers. They spend their time admiring Reader from afar and fantasizing about a relationship with her. They talk about her all the time, usually Demetri without a filter and Eli becoming embarrassed of flustered in response to whatever he says. They do not have the courage to walk up to her and actually say anything because the last time someone tried that, Yasmine bit their head off.

✨️ Their paths don't cross until one day in gym class, everyone is outside playing a game but it's getting hard to keep up. Eli and Demetri run off and hide under the bleachers, planning to stay there until class ends and they can all go change in the locker room. However, they don't expect to find Reader there with a book.

She looks up at them pleasingly amd speaks so softly, "Please don't tell Coach I'm here... I hate close contact sports..."

Demetri grins, seeing an opportunity to finally talk to the girl of his and Eli's dreams. "So do we," he laughs and they sit down. "What are you reading?"

✨️ They have a nice conversation, for what it's worth. Reader doesn't talk too much and Eli clams up because he's in the presence of the girl he's been crushing on for years. It gets quiet between them fast but it's not an awkward silence. Reader likes quiet more often than not and doesn't mind it, while Demetri and Eli like it because they get to admire her upclose and she's not asking them questions about it.

✨️ Just before the class ends, she's gets up so she can be the first person in the locker room so she can change into her normal clothes without others around. She waves bye to Eli and Demetri before she's too far away though. They wave back, too happy with how things played out to even speak.

✨️After that, they're even more in love with Reader. And to be clear, she didn't do or say anything special, she just sat and talked to them a little bit. Again, they're just pathetic losers lol.

✨️ Reader thinks they're cute. And now that she's seen them, they can't blend in anymore. However, just because she's popular doesn't make her confident. She's too shy to approach them. If they have a class together, lucky them, but it'd nothing special - well, Reader doesn't think she's all thay special in comparison to her friends, but Eli and Demetri think otherwise.

✨️ When they're alone, Eli and Demetri talk about her nonstop. It's a little embarrassing tbh but they don't care. Conversations will start off sweet and innocent but devolve into something more spicy. Especially if Reader wore a pretty outfit that showed off all of her curves and nice tits.

✨️ Those conversations usually lead to Demetri sucking Eli off to turn him into a whiny little loser. He doesn't say much of anything the whole time and just whines so pretty, maybe letting out Reader's name here and there but that's about it.

✨️ After many weeks of that, Demetri gets tired of moping about wishing they were with Reader. But what chance do they really have? After all, she's pretty and popular while they're barely ever given a second glance. Little do they know that Reader is aware of them, more so than they think - and it isn't because she wants to be mean to them like they think of her peers...

✨️ She wants them but has no idea how to approach them. So she asks her friends for advice. Yasmine and Moon are more than happy to assist Reader with her desire to ask out a cure guy (or two) and take her shopping. While out and about, they give her all sorts of tips and tricks to gain the confidence she needs to ask someone out and get a date.

✨️ Demetri and Eli almost think it's a joke when she approaches them one day and finally asks them out. However, that's outweighed by how cute she looks while doing it, shyly wringing her wrists and looking down at the ground while talking to them. Demetri lets out an enthusiastic "yes!" while Eli nods vigorously. She smiles at them and tells them that's great but that she's also never been on a date before, so she doesn't know what to really do...

✨️ They assure her that this will be their first date too because while Demetri and Eli are kind of together, they never made it official. They've played it off as being best friends for a long time but they both know they're more than that. Now they're going on a date with Reader and it's all they could have ever wanted.

✨️ They end up going to the arcade and showing her all of the best games that will give them the most tickets. She and Eli play side by side on the multiplayer games, sharing little smiles with each other while Demetri works on getting some tickets. At one point, Reader is struggling with one game and Demetri comes up behind her to help, putting his hands over her and basically playing the game for her. She's so fluttered but so happy about it at the same time, it's amazing.

✨️ By the time they're walking up to the prize counter so they can have dinner, Demetri has gotten enough tickets for a big prize and lets Reader pick something out. She gets one of the big stuffed animals from the top rack and it's perfect, Eli thinks so anyone.

✨️ The night ends in Reader's car; well, not really end because they sit in the backseat together to keep from taking them home. She doesn't want it to be over yet, feeling like it went by too fast. Reader put the backseat down so they'd have all the room in the back to sit together, putting a movie on her laptop for them. However, it's quickly forgotten about when Demetri decides he should make a move and puts a hand on her thigh.

✨️ Before they know it, they're making out in the back of her car, Eli watching and patiently waiting for him turn. Reader pulls away flushed and hot, only to turn to Eli and kiss him. She can't think about how shy she usually is because her other feelings (and hormones) are driving her to do these things she's never done before. She feels like she's on top of the world with Eli's tongue in her mouth and Demetri's hands wandering her body.

✨️ Demetri and Eli are feverish and sloppy with her, thinking that they'll never get this chance again. They pull little squeaks and moans from her as they feel her up and make out with her, only for her to stop them because she doesn't want to go too far. She shyly explains that she likes what they're doing but if they go any farther, she doesn't want it to be in the back of her car. That's reasonable and they get it, but they're also hard and horny.

✨️ So she sits back and watches them as Demetri fucks Eli in the back of her car. It gets her all hot and bothered, but she just watches, though she'll take care of things later on her own because she's just not ready. She can't deny that they're super hot though. Demetri makes Eli look at Reader the whole time he gets fucked until he's whining about needing to come and he asks her to help him finish. She does and swallows, making Demetri finish inside Eli.

✨️ She drives them home and asks them if she's they're girlfriend now, to which they happily tell her that she can be whatever she wants to be. She giggles and tells them she'd like to be theirs and they're more than happy with that response.

✨️ It was a bit of an awkward, wild date, but it ended a lot better than any of them could have anticipated. They can't wait to go on another...

[jadeyarts]

Separate from that other anon I for one would personally love to hear your Peri and Harbinger/Foxglove headcanons

OMG YAYYYYY. I HAVE QUITE A FEW ♥ (for my own convenience i'm referring to them by their og series names for reasons)

the events of timmy's secret wish are what first planted the seeds of genuine, fully positive feelings and fondness for poof in foop's mind and heart... maybe even a puppy love crush. he seriously thought "well, dying in poof's arms wouldn't be so bad" and hoped that wouldn't awaken something in him. it did.

in a lot of episodes they often have differently colored eyes - foop has a darker shade of purple. i think poof's noticed, and i think he even likes the look of those darker eyes.

given how foop would cry out for poof to protect or save him, i think that poof grows to be incredibly protective of foop… poof will square up for his square!!!

hes the one telling cashiers that foop asked for no pickles, imho ♥

at some point poof stopped intervening in foop's nefarious schemes so i've kind of interpreted poof as just... not caring anymore. he can't stay mad at foop for long, and he finds himself not even bothered by whatever damages he ends up causing anyways. i think he might even find his antics amusing.

after the events of certifiable super sitter, foop actually feels comfortable with admitting that poof is his best friend-

it'd take a few more years to admit it to poof's face, though, it's too embarrassing for him! he'll gush to chloe constantly, though - she knows he's in love with poof before either of them does.

foop's first boyfriend was actually their mutual friend sammy sweetsparkle in high school, while poof had kind of an on-and-off puppy love situationship with goldie... until he kind of flipped out on her about constantly getting foop's name wrong in the middle of a jealousy induced break-down. foop was actually thrilled to hear that poof let his dark side show over wanting to be with him.

sammy and foop ironically broke up on good terms because sammy's best attempt at understanding the fairy/antifairy situation is that they must be soulmates and he didn't want to stand in the way of true love. he's their second biggest supporter.

technically poof confessed first but his confession was literally just screaming IF I DONT SPEND THE REST OF MY LIFE WITH YOU I AM LITERALLY GOING TO BLOW SOMETHING UP!!!! at foop, which was a love confession that would only appeal to foop.

chloe TRIED to plan the "perfect" first date for them but it was horribly awkward and not to their tastes. so instead their first REAL date was poof taking foop to a kelly clarkson concert where they got matching "my life would suck without you" t-shirts.

poof actually buys - WITH HUMAN MONEY, IN A HUMAN DISGUISE - every kelly clarkson album as it releases for foop.

they nearly elope several times but got caught by wanda every time. wanda doesn't really like the fact that poof is with foop but doesn't wanna turn into mama cosma about it so she comes to terms with it. she doesnt want them to just run away and get married when she doesn't think they're ready yet either, though. timmy has to be the one to appeal to foop's desire for attention to convince them to have a big wedding after they graduate. poof doesnt care whether he has a big wedding or just elopes - as long as foop is his. if foop wants a big wedding, that's what they'll have.

whenever people ask how long they've been together they tend to go silent because their first instinct is to say "about 50 years" even though they're only about 22-24, and they've only officially been a couple for about 6 or 7 years. foop's second instinct is also to say "from the very first moment i drew breath" like the dramatic weirdo he is. which isn't even accurate and they both know it.

literally so specific to my own little homebrewed post-canon that you can't even pretend it works with anw:

in my elaborate fanon after AC and AW abandoned foop in season 10, poof begs wanda to find someone who would be willing to take foop in. luckily, wanda knew just the fairies for the job.

after getting adopted foop changes his name to foxglove thimbleplight - poof changed his last name to thimbleplight when they got married so he becomes periwinkle thimbleplight. :3

they still call each other poof and foop - usually in the form of embarrassingly cheesy affectionate nicknames. we're talking "smoopy-poo" level cheesy usage here.

(actually that one still works with anw but the art i drew is clearly my own designs and not the anw designs and it's exceedingly cheesy so)

poof convinced foop to go to the fairy academy with him - initially foop was hesitant because he… wants to… but… antifairies cant become godparents, right??? poof was willing to do literally anything it would take to keep foop by his side though. he initially considers manipulating some poor unsuspecting godparent to quit on their godkid just so he can hijack the ensuing fairy idol for foop to win and take their job… it's devious, and he knows foop would have loved that he did something so malicious just for him, but in the end he just gets into a fight with jorgen and the fairy council about it. he argues that technically foop is legally a fairy now since he was adopted by fairies, so he should be allowed to become a godparent. they end up agreeing.

their relationship was kind of a controversial issue in fairyworld for a few years because of poof's high profile status - while they're not the first fairy and anti-fairy couple, they're the first recorded instance of a fairy coupled with their own counterpart in eons. the media did get bored of them eventually though.

they already wanted to get married after high school but they agreed to postpone the wedding until after they graduated from the fairy academy so they had enough free time to make it as over the top as foop wanted it to be. poof actually proposed to foop AGAIN with a diamond ring after they graduated from the fairy academy, even though they were technically already engaged - with the intent of being as over-the-top dramatic and annoying to the rest of their classmates as possible.

^ which is similar to what cosmo and wanda did as teens though details differ. cosmo is literally the only one who seems to realize this and audibly goes "WOW, DEJA VU..." when this all happens.

while wanda had to get used to poof and foop together, cosmo accepted it pretty much immediately. mostly because sometimes they reminded him of himself and wanda. (<- actually canon)

[gfguren]

pro hero!kirishima x reader | angst?, fluff, childhood friends→lovers, best friend!kiri my beloved, 2.8k (apparently??) | cw: cursing, reader wears a dress

-eighteen, and heartbroken, you ghost your best friend. years pass, as do old feelings; coincidence brings you back together again-

They say old habits die hard, your heartbeat rings true.

It's been years—six, at least. Since you've seen Kirishima. And he's still there, in the library of things you've loved, thumbed and beloved, worn at the spine where you once folded the pages, one over the other, carelessly. Always carelessly. As if they'd stay the same through all the wear and tear. You were—careless—after all, eighteen, and foolish, feelings too big for your heart.

But that was okay. It always was, with him. Wherever you wanted to go, whatever you wanted to do. He was happy as long as you were—and so, so good to you; it was childish of you, but you almost wished that he wasn't.

Maybe it was some kind of teenage rebellion that you pushed it too far. Some kind of lashing out, 'getting even', that you kissed other boys, pretended be head over heels in love with anyone, everyone, but Kirishima. Because you did—love him—and not in the way he loved you, you were sure.

Because if he had—really had—he would have hesitated, would have hurt. Wouldn't have vetted your dresses, or wiped the smudge from beneath your eyes. Wouldn't have told you how pretty you looked without really looking at you at all. Wouldn't have drove you to meet other boys, or dried your tears when they made you cry, like all of your other friends did. The kinds you didn't want to kiss. The kinds you imagined a future with, but not with kids and a dog and a white picket fence.

It was obvious for you, came natural as breathing, you'd known him your whole life. Skinned knees, and awkward school dances. Your very first kiss, though it meant nothing at the time. Just kids—curious, and reckless, and definitely not in love. You thought it'd be like that forever, made sense that he'd always be at your side; maybe that's why it hurt the way it did when, suddenly, he just wasn't.

That awkward boy—indecisive and boisterous, good natured and yours—Kirishima. Eijirou. Who earned his first bloody nose at the age of ten, defending your honor over something juvenile and stupid, who walked you home every day after school, hand in yours, always; (for safety, of course), who left half of his belongings on your bedroom floor, in your closet, atop your dresser—hoodies and gadgets and pens, chewed at the cap. That Eijirou—your Eijirou—would always, surely, make his way back to you, right?

But he doesn't.

When summer ends, he leaves—your school, the little town you both grew up in,

—and you.

To do something good, to be something more. And he was. And you were proud of him, so proud, to see him grow and become the hero he always dreamed of being. But maybe that scared you too, because suddenly your Eijirou didn't feel so much like yours anymore.

He's gone with hardly a notice, returns with all the confidence in the world—a completely new person in a matter of months. Red hair and a smile like summertime sunshine; your heart skips, cheeks flush, a name is put to the feelings you've felt for as long as you can remember, for the very first time.

But nothing's changed, not for Eijirou, at least, who still spends his vacations beneath your parents' roof, within the four borders of your bedroom, crisscrossed legs and laughter that sounds just like it always has. But it hits you—when he speaks—how much things have changed for you. The stories he tells, the friends he's made and the things he's experienced. They're his. Just his.

And it shouldn't bother you. That you don't know the name of his homeroom teacher, or what he packed for lunch last week. That he doesn't know about all the evenings you've spent alone, or how you broke into tears when that cute senior boy asked you to the yearly formal, because Eijirou had promised—pinky promised—all those years ago, that he'd be the one to take you.

But that was before he had training, and internships, and hero obligations; things far, far more important than you were, you suppose.

But it shouldn't bother you, right? Shouldn't hurt the way it does when he packs his things from your room at the end of summer. You lose him bit by bit; pens and gadgets, and comic books you bought for him every single birthday, without missing a year. He takes your ("his") very favorite hoodie—red and worn at the cuffs, a tear up the side where you wrestled him to the ground, at age twelve. Some petty fight you don't even remember, and how you didn't speak to him for a week; that felt like a lifetime, then.

You've half a mind to ask for it, know for sure he'd offer it happily, though you're not sure you have that right anymore. You no longer share his life, after all, and he doesn't share yours; it's not until you're older, much older that you realize just how hard he tried to make it work anyway.

The weekly calls and the long drives back home to just see you for a month, a week, a day. How he gets his license, at eighteen. Rushes home from an internship to drive you to the little ice cream parlor at the edge of town.

You're crying, over a boy—though your heart wasn't really in it. How could it be, when it's been checked out since the age of six? When the more years that pass, the more you fall for your very best friend, the stronger his absence becomes, the more bitter your heart grows. You're crying, over a boy—but not the one who stood you up.

You're just, frustrated, that he's oblivious to it all. Still. And so damn nice about it—always. That's he's perfectly content to dry your tears, has the audacity to tell you that guy was an idiot, totally unmanly, that 'any man would be lucky to have you'.

But not Eijirou. Never Eijirou.

And for the first time, you think you hate him. For missing the hearts in your eyes, and growing up just fine, without you. For talking like it's totally fine if you end up with someone that isn't him. And vice versa.

That he reaches for your hand on the way back to his car, like you're still just kids, and it means nothing at all.

—and that you let him; as if it means nothing to you either.

But fuck, it does. Always has. And maybe that's why you justify it, when you disappear after graduation—a new phone and town, and a future that doesn't include Eijirou. Kirishima. The way you're convinced he wanted; he's always been fine without you, after all.

It's petty and it's childish. And it's hard—like turning a page you've been stuck on your entire life—but you do, and the world doesn't end without him, like you thought that it might. You're fine, not even all that sad. Just a little empty for a while.

The years pass easily, as do old feelings and the ache in your chest. You get busy. With work, and hobbies, your dreams and hopes and aspirations. You don't have the time to dwell about what could have been.

At twenty-two, you fall in love, and it doesn't last. But not because there's someone stuck in your heart, like a thorn that just burrows deeper. Life happens, and you pull apart, naturally—like adults do—communication, and mutual agreement; the way you wish you'd been mature enough to handle your feelings all those years ago.

Maybe you'd still have your oldest friend by your side, then.

Somehow summer sneaks up on you, everytime—the third week of June, when you visit your parents in the same little town that's always changing. Streets busier than ever and pavement redone, ice cream parlor on the edge of town gone and replaced with a brick and mortar grocery. It makes it easier, you think, to not be reminded of Kirishima—and the way you left without so much as a goodbye.

You haven't forgotten him, far from it. Somehow you still find yourself in the comic section of the bookstore every October. But at some point, you forget his favorite foods and the way his hand felt in yours. When you see his house across the street, you think of his mother instead, and the way she greets you every time, like you're her second child. Her 'favorite', you used to joke.

It's bittersweet.

Six summers, and you manage to avoid him. Six summers and you come to terms with never seeing him again. Six summers, and he's there, suddenly—beneath your parents' roof, within the four borders of your childhood bedroom. Your heart beats like it might burst.

"Kirishima," you say, choking down your surprise with deep, careful breaths.

He turns to you then; four wooden borders squeezed carefully between two strong hands. The scar above his brow is baby pink, barely there, and he stands a little taller, you think, feels a little broader at the chest, and around his shoulders. You've seen him on tv, of course, in the news, in pictures, occasionally, but it's different—seeing him in person, after so long.

A true proper hero, standing there in your childhood bedroom, holding an old photo you'd all but forgotten about; two kids, faded ink and scuffed glass—hearts in your eyes, if he happened to look closer.

"Hi." His voice is a little deeper, smile a little softer when your eyes meet.

"Hi."

You feel a little helpless, truth be told. You'd spent so long avoiding him, so many years forgetting the casual conversation you'd once carried. You never considered what to say, if you were to meet again, never thought that you might. But here you are, after all this time.

You want to tell him you're proud, you think. The way you couldn't bring yourself to all those years ago. Want to tell him that you're sorry, for more reasons than one. Want to tell him he looks good, that you got the job he always said you would, that you worried about him, from time to time.

Instead, there's a tentative—"What are you doing here?"—that sticks in your throat.

As if it matters.

"Ran into your parents at the grocery," he answers, casually, "they asked me to stay for dinner."

And yet.

He sets the picture face up—where it once lied face down, forgotten in the eaves of your bookcase.

He's here; in your bedroom. Looking through your things, like he missed you.

You wring your hands together. Return the feelings you start to reach for, instinctively. A little book in the library of things you're predisposed to, catalogued under: Getting Ahead of Yourself.

"Are you?" the words are eager, the pages fall loose. You catch them, before he does. "Staying for dinner?"

It takes all of three steps, (you think it might have been five, once), for him to make his way from the bookcase to your bed. It creaks woefully when he sits, "Would that be okay with you?"

"Yeah," your voice nearly betrays you, "yeah, it would."

His shoulders unwind, chest falls. He breathes—easy. And then he laughs, boyish and yours.

"What's so funny," you gravitate towards him, naturally, suitcase forgotten at the door. The bed dips at his side and your shoulder playfully bumps his, "huh?"

The corners of his mouth crease at the edges, aged deep just like yours. "When did we become so boring?"

You hum—almost melancholy, picking at the splotches of red that still stain your comforter. "It's been six years, Kirishima."

"Yeah," he says, a little more pensive, "you look good."

Your heart skips, cheeks flush. Suddenly you're sixteen again, and pawing at the hem of your sundress, searching for his approval from the corner of your eye.

He's not looking at you, but it's different this time; or maybe it's exactly the same, and he's always been this way. Maybe you were just blind to it, sixteen and oblivious to the hand that wrings itself around the back of his neck, the red tinge that burns his ears.

But honestly, probably, you're searching for subtext that doesn't exist. Still, "So do you," the words come easy, "saw you at that award ceremony—on tv, I mean. Couldn't believe that was my Eijirou."

His head dips, eyes shimmer red; sweeter than wild strawberries. "Your Eijirou?"

'Yeah." You feel a bit self conscious, truth be told, though you've said it a hundred times. "Aren't you?"

His smile spreads like a yawn, from the depths of his chest, suddenly there and unshakable. Contagious—what was his, now yours as well. "Always have been."

Your chest tightens, every beat of your heart hammering at your ribcage. You still love him, after all this time. "How long will you stay?"

"Until dinner, at least."

"No, I mean," you sigh, heart spilling to your sleeves, "how long will you be in town?"

"I,-" It's lethargic, the way he blinks, throat bobs, smile falls, slow and pensive and so unlike him, "I moved back a while ago." Surprise washes over your face, rests in your brow, and he answers, before you have the chance to ask, "it's been two summers now."

You're not sure what that feeling is, gnawing at your heart and making you sick to your stomach—

"I'm sure you knew I came to visit," your voice is a murmur, eyes misty and searching for an excuse to meet everything but his, "you could have said 'hi'."

He hums, an almost sigh, "Wasn't sure you wanted me to."

—Guilt, that's what it is. It plummets, and swells, until you can feel it in your throat.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." A warm hand falls over yours, fingers curling—friendly, reassuring. You appreciate it for what it is. "I get it."

You've loved him for so long, known him for even longer, turned every page until the ink began to wear. But for the first time, you think you can see his heart bleeding between the lines.

"You're not doing that, don't you dare blame yourself, Kirishima Eijirou."

"You were lonely, weren't you? After I left for UA," his jaw goes rigid, every bit of shame clenched between his teeth, "should've tried harder to make it work, could've visited more often, could've taken an internship closer to home, could've,"

"—said," you click your tongue, stern as can be, "you're not doing that."

You pinch the corner of his sleeve, rolled red fabric over strong arms; he doesn't flinch at the coaxing, instead he turns to take your shoulders between his hands, "'m sorry."

You wrangle them from you, lying his palms at your lap, squeezed in between your own. "Damnit Ei, you didn't do anything wrong," you know for certain that he would've packed you in his suitcase if he could, would've dragged you along to every course and internship and oh-so-important hero happening, but you had your own life to live—and so did he. "You were following your dreams, who am I to get in the way of that?"

"My best friend, my other half, besides," his shoulders square, chest puffs, all brawn and ego and Eijirou; but his hands tremble unsurely, "I liked you," his wavering voice is still confident, somehow, confession long overdue, "and I'm sure that's not what you wanted to hear from me after so long, but," his hands leave yours to worry his hair, all finely gelled and pushed back, now tousled and falling softly at his forehead, "I didn't want to regret it for another six years."

You feel like you're drowning, pulled under a tide of feelings new and old. Confused, and euphoric, and so, so stupid. He liked you. He liked you and you never had a clue. The irony makes you dizzy.

Your head breaches the surface, and finally you can breathe, deep and burning lungs expanding, expanding, and trembling—a stream of salt and water hits your cheeks and falls past your lips. Eijirou is quick wipe away the tears, a palm at each cheek, wide eyed and worried. "Hey, hey, I'm sorry. Please don't cry, okay?"

You laugh and his expression eases, shoulders falling and fingertips thumbing softly at your skin. "Don't worry, Ei. I'm happy," you sniffle, fingers wrapping 'round his wrists; his pulse stutters at your index and you smile, "I liked you too, a lot," at age six, at eighteen, the year before last, and the year after that, and, and, "I still like you, I think."

His smile blooms, face brightens like sunlight in the peak of summer, warm against the tips of your fingers.

"Can I take you on a date sometime?" he asks, like it's the easiest thing in the world; maybe it always has been.

"Yeah." Your heart beats, a page turns. "I'd like that."

[bad-and-drawn-that-way]

Let me just say, I absolutely adore your writing so much!! Your More Than Anything series with Vox is honestly one of, if not my favorite Vox series!!!❤💙 I was wondering if you could do a kind of silly, fluffy imagine with Vox where they're in their early stages of flirting/crushing and the reader avoids the topic of kissing... because they think Vox isn't able to kiss with his screen? Literally before episode 8, the question in my mind was "Can the dorky TV man kiss?" And then we got confirmation he most DEFINITELY could 🤣 I just think it'd be so cute and funny for that to be something the reader was wondering as well but wasn't sure how to ask him about it without being weird lol

Oh my goodness, such high praise aaaa! I actually have a scene in my Ao3 fic based on the same concept! I'd be happy to write some awkward smoochums! This guy is such a fucking dork and I love him.

Assumptions [Vox x Reader Fluff]

You and Vox had been dating for a month and the overlord was on the verge of insanity. He knew that Valentino had much more intense needs when it came to physical affection than most, but he wasn't expecting such a drastic shift in needs when it came to you.

He knew that being in a real relationship was very different from what he'd experienced before with his fellow overlord. But he thought the two of you would have done something by now. Not even necessarily sex. (Although he'd definitely been fantasizing about that more than he cared to admit.)

The two of you had cuddled, slept in the same bed, and even h*ld h*nds, but you hadn't kissed yet and it wasn't for his lack of trying. He'd invited you on romantic dates and set up several perfect opportunities. But whenever he'd try to go for it, you'd always pull away before he had the chance.

He didn't understand. The two of you had been doing so well. You always seemed to be swept up in the little heated moments just as much as he was, so why?!

Vox had been completely distracted during his entire news segment and groaned as slipped into his secluded dressing room. If it wasn't for the fact that he caught sight of you in his mirror, he probably would have flipped out when he felt your arms slip around him from behind.

"What are you doing here?" he chuckled as he lifted a hand to rest on one of your arms.

"I missed you," you smile, squeezing him gently before letting go. "And I saw that..." you cringe. "Performance. You seemed off. Is something on your mind?"

Vox's eyes widened and he cursed himself mentally for putting on a subpar show in front of the camera. If you noticed, then the audience probably did as well. No one really gave half a fuck about the news, but ratings were ratings.

"It's nothing," Vox muttered. "It's just..."

He looks up at you with an unreadable expression and you gasp as he reaches up and gently takes hold of your chin. His brow furrows as he tucks your hair behind your ear and your heart races a million miles per second as he searches your blushing face for something. His eyes flick down to your lips and he slowly starts to lean, only for you to suddenly push him away.

"A-Anyways I just wanted to check in on you and see if we were still on for a movie tonight," you stammered.

Vox froze, not listening to your ramblings as he processed your deflection. He felt a sharp, cold sting of rejection in his chest and wondered if maybe you weren't as interested in the relationship as he hoped. His heart started to break, but then he noticed the way you were blushing.

"Why?" He asked quietly.

"Well, I just thought maybe you wanted to-"

"No," Vox grit his teeth as he grabbed you by the shoulders. "Why the fuck won't you kiss me? Every time I try, you pull away. We're dating, so why?"

You blinked up at him owlishly, your jaw hanging open before you grabbed his arms and breathed, "You can kiss?!"

Vox's brow furrowed as he looked you over, "Wh- The fuck are you on about? Yes, I can fucking kiss! I've been trying to kiss you for the past three goddamn weeks!"

You gasped before burying your face in your hands and groaning. "Oh my god, I thought... There were a couple times that I wondered, but this whole time I didn't think you could and I didn't want to be weird and..."

Vox stood taller as he processed your words. You didn't hate him. You weren't repulsed by him. You were just...

He burst out laughing, clutching his stomach as he absolutely lost it. "O-Oh my god! You're such a fucking idiot!"

Your face was burning with embarrassment. You knew he wasn't being malicious, but you were still mortified at the misunderstanding. "Oh shut up! It's not my fault you're a flat-faced fucker!"

You were about to go bury your shame into the couch, fully expecting him to hold this against you for the rest of the day, but you were barely able to take two steps before Vox intervened.

You let out a startled yelp as you felt his claws wrap around your arm and yank you back. In the split second it took you to blink, he'd trapped you against a wall. You flinched as his hands slammed against either side of your head, trapping you as he grinned down at you.

"You are so fucking stupid," he snickered.

Your face only grew warmer as your heart pounded with mixed anger, embarrassment, and something else entirely due to the position he had you in. His hand traces lightly over your cheek before cupping the side of your face as he looks at you with the softest expression you'd ever seen from him.

You gasp as he leans down and presses his lips against yours. Your entire body feels like tiny fireworks are dancing lightly over your skin. You shiver as your hands instinctively reach up to grasp at his vest when he pulls you close.

You're both breathing much harder than is necessary when he pulls away. For a moment you just look at each other with half-lidded gazes as you process the sparks that just metaphorically and literally flew. You were pretty sure a bulb went out due to the little bits of blue energy that sparked off of your boyfriend during the kiss.

Speaking of your dork, Vox breathlessly grinned as he squeezed your arms. He let out a small laugh before stepping away from you and turning as more little sparks flew.

"Fucking finallyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!" Vox yelled as he pumped his arms in the air and kicked his legs like a giddy child.

[hor3nee]

• Union •

Gojo and his arranged marriage with Reader.

CW/TW: Fem! Reader, Arranged marriage, BREIF Suggestive stuff, Corny Gojo, Reader & Gojo ages implied to be very young (18-23), Gojo typical flirting, SFW (Lmk if I should add anything else!)

Characters: Gojo x Reader

AN: Gojo is bitchless in this fic bc I say so. Pt 2 here.

Weddings aren't supposed to be this boring. In fairness, boring is better than a bad wedding. Could have a roadhouse-type fight between in-laws, an ex breaking through the doors proclaiming their undying love or a runaway bride. Or a runaway groom. Maybe he should've been a runaway groom? Internally, Gojo's sure it'd be more exciting than sitting in a room full of family and 'friends' who are discussing his marriage more than he's even caring to think of it.

"Congratulations to The Strongest and his bride." Another blanked-out random voice says giving polite blessings to him and the lady dressed in bridal wear beside him, you.

Satoru Gojo, the strongest, they call him, well he calls himself, and yes, he is, he without a doubt is the strongest. Born with the Six Eyes technique after ages of the Gojo clan, while relevant in the Jujutsu world, unable to have a child with such technique for so long, Gojo was instantly hailed heir, no questions asked.

And with all of that, comes responsibilities, that, as immature as the man acts, he does take care of. Responsibilities include many things other than killing curses though, responsibilities include managing the clan, doing his part in Jujutsu society, mentoring the students and keeping peace with the other clans. Just to list the few, less action-based responsibilities. Marriage is an obvious one as well.

And you're the bride.

He knew it was coming. It wasn't specifically because he was the strongest he was gonna be strung into a marriage as quickly as possible, though that played a role in it. He saw it with his parents, relatives, and the other clans, Zenin especially who practiced it most rigidly perhaps, marriage was a necessary part of holding a certain status, it's simply expected. Arranged are ideal.

It's not that he was forced into it either, everyone knows this is Satoru Gojo, he does whatever he wants. He gets whatever he wants, he's spoiled, both by the hands of Jujutsu society that almost worships him for his abilities and his own self, the ego he holds very proudly and very loudly that he shamelessly keeps up. If he wants something, he takes it, if he doesn't, he'll leave. He holds that sort of irrefutable power.

So he's okay with this, with marriage. With an arranged marriage, to you, whatever his reasons are that much is clear.

"You gonna eat that?" He's not asking really, he's already got his freakishly long arm drawled out on the table grabbing the plate out of yours. Fingers wriggling comically and he doesn't even make eye contact, looking at the slice of cake with a deeper passion than he bothered to look at you with. Not that you're expecting it, but.. you are the bride, he is on board.

"..Uh guess not." Is all you can reply, slightly awkwardly as he snatches the slice and gobbles it, humming like an overgrown toddler. Was he feeling as awkward too? He didn't look it, he looked fine, bored out of his over-active mind but not mad or anything. Much less mad at you, nor nervous. You're sat close, right by his side, being the main events the two of you of course, Gojo more so because he's the main event in everything in his life.

"This shit's good." He's moaning now, at cake. Almost makes you cringe but with that huge grin of overabundant confidence he has, he somehow makes it seem less cringe.

"Wedding cake's always good-" He gulps down another piece as he speaks. "Best part of any wedding."

Was that?.. Was that an insult? Felt like it, you're sat there all prettied up prim and proper to marry him, and you know he accepted this marriage and he's calling the cake the best part of the wedding? No, you can't even blame him. If anything you probably agree, save for the overly expensive gifts of cold hard cash the other clans and guests were leaving those were also good parts. Because this is, arranged.

You two, are, for the most part, strangers to each other. Together yes, married actually since you and him signed the legal documents no less than 10 minutes earlier into the wedding.

Still, it's awkward.

Soon the cake is gone, mostly by Gojo's abyss of a stomach, and the guests leave. Caterers clean up and family members give some last tidings before leaving. As well as you, and Gojo.

"So, do you think I'm hot?" He perks, sprawled on the couch with his formal wear lazily pulled off scattering around the floor from when he took it off the instant he was inside the residence. His residence, of course. A grin showing no signs of the tense awkwardness one would expect a young man freshly married to a wife he's only married to through arrangements would be. But no, he's Satoru Gojo, if there's one thing he has, it's an overwhelming amount of self-assurance.

"Do I- Do I think you're hot?" You reply, standing a bit awkwardly in front of him, still trying to process the fact you're sleeping here tonight, no for the rest of your life you'll be sleeping in this house. Home, you should call it, it is your home now. Might take time to properly digest that but it is.

"Yeah, am I hot?" The question is, by his expression, obviously self-explained. He IS attractive, with pretty big blue eyes, tall and decently built, and gorgeous lips too, he knows it, he knows he's hot. Gojo just likes to tease, he's a little shit. 

"I mean, am I attractive to YOU?" He asks again, putting more emphasis. For all the slightly passive-aggressive things he's said the evening and immature behaviour, the question is poised genuinely. He's smirking, humming almost as he asks but the way he looks at you it's also clear that he is asking you, seriously.

His gaze never breaks with yours, and though you only take a second to respond, it feels like an hour with the heavy weight of the situation in your brain and the almost stinging feeling of his wide baby blue bright eyes piercing through yours waiting for your response.

"You... Yes, you are attractive." He is, he knows that already though and that wasn't what he was asking. But you know that wasn't what he asking. His expression doesn't falter though, but there's an obvious disappointment, boredom more specifically in it at your lack of response. You're talking but the words are white paper plain, even you can taste it on your tongue, how chaste you sound. 

"I think you're attractive, too." His reply is more genuine than yours as well, maybe not genuine but a lot more emotion in it. Maybe he's just more confident, which he is no doubt. 

"Thanks-"

"Like, seriously." He whistles, christ that's jarring. "seriously hot." 

He's up off the couch before you can give another disingenuous 'thanks' and standing right in front of you, eyeing you down with little to no attempt to act ceremoniously, which he was showing at least the faintest ounce of at the wedding earlier. That gawky tension of whatever the hell the two of you have going on is back, but not for Gojo. He doesn't even have a semblance of humility in him to feel that tension that's burning inside of you right now.

"We're supposed to like each other, you know." He adds, keeping his eyes trained on your body shamelessly.

It feels like his hands are folded around you but they aren't, they're hanging loosely by his side all dangly as his limbs are, the man is a giant. It's more a feeling, suffocating, as though you've been cornered when you aren't. It's the middle of a decently spaced living room and the front door is unlocked. And Gojo, as devious as his smirk is, would never hold you by the binds of a pressured marriage. If anything, you were almost under the assumption he didn't care for you, or this marriage.

"I guess, yeah." You start. "You like me then?" You finish, a bit bolder now, he's seamlessly talking and you are married now, till death do you part as they say. Might as well match his energy.

"You bet I do, sweetheart." Petnames? Okay maybe too much, he might need to dial it down. But Gojo is Gojo, the strongest, an eccentric man. He doesn't 'dial it down' for anything, or anyone. You're his wife, and he likes what he sees. Smiling as he speaks, genuine and concise in his words, he means what he says. As confusing as this situation is, he is young, he's accepted it, and not begrudgingly at all. "I got me a pretty wife- you, you're my wife, so I like you." 

"Thanks Gojo." Ah, there it is, not disingenuous. Though minimal he picks up on it, you also mean it. Maybe not in the way he means it, maybe more than he means it, who knows, not him. Confident as he says he is with the ladies, he's never actually been with one before, this whole relationship shtick, marriage shtick, is new.

Marriage is built off of love, his elders told him, he saw in shitty rom-coms and pop songs blasting the radio. He'd like that, love, as much immaturity and disregard he’s shown at the wedding, the engagement, the arrangements when he first heard they'd picked a partner for him, it has appeal. And he wants it, and this woman, you, you're going to be the one to give it to him, love. Not today, not tonight. Maybe not in a month or a year, but it'll grow, and fester over time. He's sure, as he is in everything, this marriage will last.

"I'm tired as hell from all that wedding crap," Gojo says, his feet ever so minimally backing off so he isn't smothering you with his presence and wide sapphire-like eyes boring into your understandably unsure eyes. "There's a guest room, I'll sleep there and you can take the main bedroom-"

"I can sleep with you." You cut him off.

"In the guest bedroom??" He questions with a blink, okay so he's a bit stupid. That's okay though.

"No, with you, in our bedroom." You correct him, feeling more assured now, eased by Gojo's, thankfully.

"Right." The cheeky grin is back. Actually, it isn't very annoying anymore, it's kinda attractive. He is attractive that much is sure, but he's starting to be attractive to you. "Let's go sleep in OUR bed then, how's that sound?" 

"Sounds good."

It's oddly domestic, the walk to the bedroom he previously had all to himself, showing you the way, and showing you the bed you're gonna be sleeping in for the rest of your days. The way his slender fingers, which you were almost sure would poke out your eyes, gracefully helped you dissemble the layers of jewelry and fabrics you were dolled up in. His touch was feather-light, in stark contrast to his smug demeanour, making it clear, the boy has never undressed a lady.

Nothing goes further than that though, he doesn't push for anything more, and considering how new and confusing everything still is, you don't either. Instead choosing to lay back, and shut your eyes beside Gojo, letting exhaustion overtake you both and just sleep for the night.

Sleep beside your husband.

[italiansteebie]

so the thing is.

steve really really wants this teddy bear.

he was never allowed stuffed animals as a child and had taken it upon himself to build that collection and nurture that part of him. and he's got quite a few now, most of them sit in his closet, save for a few under his bed for easy access, but he keeps them hidden.

because if anyone saw them, if the kids saw them, well. then he'd have to explain. and then it'd go from a funny "make fun of steve" moment to a "steve had a horrible childhood" moment.

so he hides them.

but not as well as he thought.

because eddie has seen the fuzzy little creatures in passing. seen their heads poking out from under his covers, caught glimpses of them tucked away in steve's closet.

and he thought it was cute.

he knew steve didn't have a great childhood, and hey. the guy deserved some soft things in life. eddie too, had some stuffed animals smooshed in with his bedding. so sue him, he likes to be cozy, and those little guys make him comfy.

and he too saw the teddy bear.

and saw the way steve looked at it.

it was pretty cute, eddie has to admit. it was a pretty big bear, soft pink, with a little white bow around its neck.

it was much more... childlike. than steve's others.

but.

the way steve looked at it. it was like he was watching a soldier come home from war. breifly eddie wonders if it looked like something from when steve was a kid, but he didn't delve deeper. he'd make himself too sad.

so he made a plan.

---

steve would never admit it, but he was heartbroken, having to leave that teddy bear like that.

but he was with the kids.

and robin.

and eddie.

and he couldn't exactly just go buy it. he couldn't give his usual excuse that it was a gift for the kids if the kids were with him, it just wouldn't work.

so he gave it up.

but it didn't stop him from thinking about it.

it just looked so soft. and maybe he was touched starved, and maybe this was his way of solving that. and maybe that wasn't "healthy." but it worked for him. and damnit. steve wanted that goddamn teddy bear.

it had been 2 days since steve saw the bear, and it was still knocking around in his mind. so he decided to go and get it. he had the plot in his head, it was a gift for holly wheeler if anyone saw him, and yes, he would like it gift wrapped please and thank you. and so he brushed his hair, and grabbed his keys.

and he swung open the door and came face to face with none other than eddie munson, bag in hand, fist raised, ready to knock.

"hey eds! i was just about to go get... uh. i. run some errands..." steve cringed at the awkward sentence, luckily for him, eddie paid it no mind.

"steve! can i come in? let's hang!" eddie left no room for an answer and pushed his way past steve into the large house.

"wh- eddie! i was about to leave," and he did not whine. he didn't.

"too bad, steve-o. i already ordered the pizza!"

"you pre ordered a pizza? to my house?"

"yeah. now come sit. put on a movie."

and well. steve relented, eddie wormed his way into his home and his heart and so what if he had a crush on the metal head. he was just a boy! he was allowed to have crushes, okay, robin?

so he sat.

and put on a movie.

and the pizza got there.

and they ate.

the sun was going down, and steve's eyes were slipping closed in the peace when eddie jumped up. "i almost forgot!"

steve jolted, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "what?"

"i got you a present," eddie sang, waving the bag steve had spotted when he first got to his house. steve eyed him suspiciously, "what is it?" he questioned, reaching towards the bag.

"just open it steve!" eddie said, flopping back down on the couch, kicking his feet as he watched steve.

steve pulled back the tissue paper, and caught just a glimpse of the soft pink fur, and he stopped. "eddie..." he whispered, tears welling up in his eyes. "open it up, stevie." eddie encouraged gently.

steve pulled the bear from the bag, "oh my god," he whispered, brushing a hand over the bears head, before squeezing it against his chest, eyes shut tightly, tears streaming down his cheeks.

eddie smiled, placing a gentle hand on steve's shoulder.

"thank you, how- how did you know?"

"i saw you looking at it. i couldn't just let you leave it."

"eddie..."

steve sighed gently, eyes shining, peering up at eddie through his eyelashes, "i can't tell you how much i appreciate this." and with that he threw his arms around the metal head, the teddy bear squished in between them. steve pulled away, eyes locking with eddie's.

"steve, can- i hope what i'm about to ask doesn't... ruin anything, i just. can i kiss you?"

"please," steve breathed, lips meeting and eyes fluttering closed. it was soft, and sweet, and it felt like... home. eddie pulled away, steve letting out a soft whine as he does. eddie cupped his face, letting his thumb run gently over the softness of steve's cheek.

"i have wanted to do that since you carried me out of hell."

"i'm happy you didn't wait any longer because i've been wanting to kiss you since you had that bottle pressed against my neck."

"stevie, so scandalous." eddie gasped, giggling in unison with steve.

the fluffy hair boy stood, grabbing eddie's hand and pulling him with him. "i wanna show you something."

steve led eddie through the house, quiet before coming to a door, "this was my nonna's room, when she would come to visit. it didn't happen that often. but i loved it when she was here. she taught me how to cook, how to speak italian. she was my best friend for a really long time." steve spoke softly, trailing around the now plain room. eddie followed him, hanging onto his every word. they stopped in front of an old photo.

there was a young woman, holding a bear that looked very similar to the one he had just bought steve. "this is my nona when she was young. and that... that was her friend. i always called him bobbie. i don't... know why, but that was his name. and she brought him every time she visited. but she always took it home... because she knew my dad would take it away," steve's voice cracked, and eddie wrapped his arms around him, showing his support.

"she was buried with him. and. i lost two friends that day."

eddie moved to hug steve from the front, letting him bury his head in his neck. "i'm sorry you lost them, stevie."

steve pulled away slightly, "you brought them back." he whispered. and it felt like a confession of something more serious. and eddie was all in.

they shared another soft kiss, sealing in the beginning of something beautiful.

that night they slept in the same bed, the soft pink bear wedged between them.

[elliesflower]

loser!!!!!bff!!!!ellie!!!!!!!! hc's

i’m just jumping on the loser!ellie train bc i actually love it and i feel like she’s such a loser despite her commitment issues like…she wants to believe in love so bad, SO BAD that she is actually a hopeless romantic deep down she literally can’t help it but it’s trapped under her awkward funny girl exterior. she's so me fr 😵‍💫

all these are sfw except for a lil sum special for you FREAKS at the end teehee so as with all my content, please 18+ only, mdni!!!

cw; afab!reader, smut (at the end)

♡ all her doodles of cat and dina hello??? she’d have a whole fucking journal dedicated to just drawings of you, every time you hang out she’d be discreetly letting her eyes linger on your face so that she can sketch you out later. and she’d smile while sketching you i know she would, her cheeks would get all red and maybe she’d even giggle she wants you so bad!!! 

♡ she’d be on patrol and see a beautiful yellow flower and immediately think of you, she has to pick it for her best friend, she HAS to!! she’d lose her balance on her damn horse trying to protect it from getting damaged while she rode back into town, but it’s worth it to see the smile on your pretty face 

♡ i feel like she'd follow you around. in any context. patrol? she's slightly behind your horse to keep an eye on you. walking around jackson? she's literally always right behind your left shoulder, letting you lead the way. party at dina's? she's practically glued to you the whole night, and when the liquor would hit she was a little handsy, pathetically looping a finger through your belt loop as she followed you to the bathroom, moving your hair out of your face when you'd talk to her, etc.. and of course the next day she'd get so sick when she recalled her behavior, feeling shameful and wondering if you were catching on (ofc you were).

♡ and she’d dream about you all the time oh my gosh! esp after hanging out with you all day she wouldn’t be able to get you out of her head when she gets home. maybe she’ll definitely even write your name with a little heart next to it in her journal when she’s recalling the day. her subconscious would manifest the way that you looked trying to play her guitar into her dreams that night

♡ speaking of guitar, she’d 10000% write songs for you. she wouldn’t tell you they’re for you, of course, she’d just play the most beautiful love song you’ve ever heard and play it off like it was nothing. but when she gets home she’d probably cry because she was too scared to make a move on you :( 

♡ i also mentioned this in a previous post but this bitch would love frank ocean, so i can see her falling asleep listening to thinkin bout you and crying bout you :( or imagine in a modern world her sketching in her journal while listening to ivy before she starts to cry because she's so frustrated by her own awkwardness, and the fact she can't ever seem to tell you how she feels :((((

♡ if you ever got into another relationship would be beating herself up over it, like why didn't she make a move sooner? and she wouldn't be able to help herself, she'd get extra moody whenever your partner was around, distant and clearly irritated. poor baby is just so bad at expressing her feelings that whenever you'd ask her about it she'd just throw it under the rug and say she's on her period or something

♡ but when you and your partner inevitably broke up, of course she was right there to be your shoulder to cry on. you'd show up at her house sobbing in the middle of the night, and i think it would take her aback, honestly, how she felt her own tears falling as she embraced you on her doorstep. she would be so emotionally connected to you, your tears were hers, and she wanted nothing more than to make you feel better. she'd throw out an empty threat to your ex, and it'd make you smile. she loves to see you smile, gosh she'd do anything to make you happy, she just loves you so much!

♡ she wouldn't. stop. with the fucking. dad jokes. she'd be insatiable, truly, like...you were starting to wonder if she was getting off on telling them to you or something. but really, she just wanted to make you feel better, any little thing she could do to make you laugh would make her feel like she did good enough for the day

♡ and you'd start to see her romantically after a while, how could you not? and why didn't you sooner? she'd be so easily flustered though, every time your hand would linger on her shoulder, or whenever you'd squeeze her even tighter as you watched a horror movie...her heart would start beating all fast and her cheeks would get so rosy. maybe her pussy would even throb when she noticed you bending over extra slowly while getting dressed one day. and of course you were doing it for her

♡ she wouldn't be able to contain herself when you kiss her for the first time. and of course you made the first move, you think a loser like ellie would ever kiss you first? she'd been so desperate for you for so long i really think she might whine into your mouth. she's a whimperer, really, she'd probably gasp when you shove your hand down the front of her pants and get your fingers moving over her clit,

"oh! oh m'god," she'd be pathetic, her jaw clenching as she whined into your shoulder while your fingers slid between her wet folds with ease. she'd cum so fucking fast you'd barely have time to blink, repeating your name over and over like a prayer as she made a mess of your hand. you've never seen her like this, lust clouding her inhibition and making her so desperate it was like she was brainless, grabbing your wrist and bringing your slick-covered fingers to her mouth to suck them clean.

"i gotta taste you," she'd whine, and she'd make sure you were comfortable on the bed before spreading your legs and eating you out like she was a woman possessed, literally drunk on the taste of your pussy.

"taste so fucking good," between kitten licks to your clit, did she even know what she was saying? "i love you, i fucking love you," of course she was confessing her love for you now, when she had her nose buried in your cunt, intoxicated by the sound of your moans and the feeling of your skin being indented by her fingertips.

she may be a loser, but she'd be your loser.