#pretend they match ty

[ryudaeng]

RYUJIN – KILL MY DOUBT (concept film #3)

[the-owl-tree]

"They really do hate to see a power hungry girlboss winning. - Curlfeather, probably.

[wikitpowers]

i’m telling myself this is kit and ty until further notice

yo but like actually imagine….

art: @cassandrajean

[inmaki]

number one sorcerer (and virgin) .

synopsis: req! in which your boyfriend — notorious for boasting about how good he is in bed — turns out to be all bark and no bite (until you give him some guidance, at least).

pairing: virgin!switch!gojo x f!reader

wc: est. 6k?

incl: unprotected sex, pull-out method, lots of dirty talk, a bit of teaching gojo, petnames, manhandling, size kink, clit play, praise kink, edging (himself), teasing, mocking, fingering, oral (f + slight m), cum swallowing

a/n: ty for awakening smtn in me anon it was nice to be writing a full fic again!! hope im not too rusty,, this is straight up filth tho so mdni

back when satoru and you were just friends, he liked to make it very clear to your circle of peers that he wasn’t just good at sex.

no, according to himself, he was some kind of sex god — to match his power level in sorcery, of course.

and obviously, who was anyone to think otherwise? the great gojo satoru; such a cocky and confident demeanour paired with angelic white hair, piercing blue eyes, and a tall sculpted body that other guys at the gym double-take at. him..? a virgin? hah! good one.

satoru believes that he’s done a rather spectacular job at keeping his reputation sky-high.

the only problem was.. now he had a girlfriend with high expectations to please.

since the day you’d gotten together — going multiple months strong — satoru was starting to sweat more and more knowing that his rather crucial fabrication was bound to be brought up sooner or later. you had your needs just like him, and satoru wouldn’t blame you if you were a bit worried about why he hasn’t initiated anything; y’know, since he was supposedly eros in human form and all that.

little did you know your boyfriend felt equally frustrated. for slightly different reasons.

“bro, it’d be hot if she was a virgin, but me?!” flopping back against the armrest, gojo lets out a theatrical groan while his best friend — the only other person to know of his dark secret — snickers against the cushions nearby.

“everything’d be fine if you didn’t pretend to be some incubus that makes girls cum with a snap of his finger,” geto quips unhelpfully.

satoru lifts his head, sneering when he realizes that the raven-haired man was much too busy scrolling on his phone to notice how he’s resting a pair of dirty shoes on his white couch. “that would be pretty cool..” when he only receives a disgusted glance, he huffs, suddenly feeling a bit vulnerable as his thoughts wander further. “how’m i even gonna tell her? what if she doesn’t trust me anymore?”

at last, suguru looks up with a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “you know y/n isn’t like that. just.. wait for her to initiate something and go with the flow,” he advises, lips curling into a knowing smirk.

“you find a way to be good at everything, anyway, toru. she’ll be begging for you in no time.”

as usual, geto knows him too well, because those last few words have gojo shooting up from the sofa with a grin. “ya think so?”

“hell yeah, man.” the two idiots end the discussion by dapping each other up, a confident gleam in both of their eyes.

only a couple days later, satoru discovers that going with the flow isn’t as easy as suguru advised. with your plush lips sucking his bottom one through occasional moans, along with a delicate pair of nails scratching perfectly at his undercut, he already felt himself getting breathless and aroused like a teenager.

perhaps you’ve put him under a spell; how is it that he lasts through prolonged battles while barely breaking a sweat, but having your cute hand move to rub up on his abs and pecs send his nerves into overdrive? it wasn’t like making out wasn’t uncommon for the two of you, this time it just felt so passionate with the way your hips moved to straddle his, tongue practically begging for entrance while the movie on screen was left long forgotten.

gojo can’t help but groan as your muscle explores his mouth, core ever so smoothly grinding on his bulge and igniting heat through his entire body. even as you pull away to take a breath, his grip on your waist remains stable as if you’d disappear at any moment— growing even tighter with the way you bore into his eyes hungrily. “satoru..”

your unusually seductive voice makes him audibly gulp. “y— yeah?” he whispers, glancing to the hand thats now moving down over his grey sweats. shit, this was too much, was he dreaming? he should do something, pinch himself before—

“touch me, please?” as you voice your request, you squeeze his dick so nicely that satoru swears he nearly explodes in his boxers.

he swallows, words getting lost in his throat. “i— i uh...”

for the first time in history, satoru has been rendered speechless, and you visibly panic at this realization. yet when you try to carefully maneuver off his lap and give him space, the clutch on your waist intensifies. “what— are you okay? what’s wrong?” you murmur, brows creasing with concern.

though you never brought it up, satoru’s worry about your confusion was correct; you’d been expecting him to jump your bones a week into your relationship, but seeing how he never forced anything and remained respectful was cute.. at first. after a month of rejection and being pushed away whenever things got too heated, insecurities were bound to start brewing inside you.

he better have a damn good explanation.

“i’m fine,” he reassures, “it’s just— i should probably tell you something..” refusing to meet your eyes, the sorcerer resorts to drawing shapes against the skin under your t-shirt. in other situations, this would feel soothing, relaxing even — but currently, his lacking and lingering touch made you want to rip the hairs off your head.

all you wanted was to finally get a taste of your steaming hot boyfriend. what could he possibly need to say right now? you ponder, hasn’t he been dying to finally show off how amazing he is in bed?

“yes..?”

“it’s actually a funny story, ahaha..” he stalls, chuckling nervously as you turn his jaw to make eye contact. a feeling of impatience and neediness pulls through you, but you contain yourself with a deep breath.

“spit it out, satoru.”

there was no going back now, right? “so.. i’ve uh— i’ve never actually done this before.”

you blink.

“you’re a virgin?”

it was difficult to believe your own words; it sounded wrong no matter how hard you tried to wrap your head around it. satoru being inexperienced? the satoru with a rock hard 6 pack? the satoru with biceps that bulge out of his shirts and a face sharp enough to be sculpted by aphrodite herself? your satoru?

it sounded ridiculous, but the ugly pout rising across his lips tells you that it wasn’t a prank after all. “hey, don’t call me that, now it sounds way worse!”

a sigh escapes your lips, arms folded across your chest. “so all those never have i ever games and stories you told about one night stands were— mph!" before you know it, a large hand is covering your mouth.

“listen, how about we talk about this after having some fun?” a surprisingly determined gleam shines in your boyfriend’s icy blue eyes, making your thighs clench together in excitement.

who were you to say no to that?

—

next thing you know, pillows support your back as a shirtless satoru lies directly in front of your clothed crotch, hot breath making you wiggle around impatiently.

“jus— just take it off me, toru. so damn slow—“

“baby,” he scolds, looking genuinely upset, “this is my first time seeing a pussy in real life and you’re ruining it with your lack of patience.”

you can only roll your eyes and groan, head flopping back against the cushions in boredom. there was no way to predict how satoru’s first time would go, but you never expected it’d be this agonizing on your end — nor that he’d be so bossy.

though luckily, after another deep breath, your panties are gently tugged down your legs, and satoru can only inhale as he watches your poor hole clench around nothing. it only made sense that after all that dry humping and making out that your neediness increased, and it didn’t help that you could clearly see the way satoru was not only rock hard, but much bigger than average through his grey sweats.

“ooh.. oh shit..” like the invasive pervert he is, satoru moves even closer to the point where your thighs rest on his muscular shoulders before taking two fingers to spread your lips apart. this way, he has a clear view of the place that needs him most, and it makes a furious blush blossom on your cheeks.

“s— satoru.. what are you doing?” now you felt like the virgin, desperately attempting to shut your legs with no avail. damn this big idiot and his strength.

suddenly, his piercing eyes snap up to you, a feral look in his gaze. “shit, how’m i gonna fit in this little hole?”

you can’t deny the way his dirty words does something to you — not that you’d ever admit it. “that’s why you gotta prep me, toru. y’know..” you gulp, “fingering, or like.. eating me out.”

in response, you get a cheshire grin. “sounds fun. show me how you do it, sweets.”

“w-what?”

satoru leans back, attemping to hold in a mischievous smile. “how else am i gonna learn?”

even masturbating alone makes you flush in slight embarassment, so doing it in front of someone else — your cheeky, shamleess boyfriend no less — had you drowning in nerves. the bigger problem was that his words held a strong point; you’re supposed to be teaching him for his first time and ensuring it’s as enjoyable as possible.

these reminders make you mumble out a gentle fine, breath stuttering as you spread your legs further for the man in front of you.

satoru is now resting his weight on the palms of his hands, looking laid back and relaxed, but evidently still focused at the way your fingers move to unclasp your bra with skill. “damn..” as your tits are freed, he finds himself needing to adjust his sweatpants and nearly letting out a pathetic noise you would definitely tease him for.

you gulp, trying to ignore his blatant gawking. “it’s good to.. y’know, tease a bit before getting straight to it. makes it feel better — for me, at least,” you explain while massaging your chest, hiding surprise at the way he sternly nods in understanding.

now that you think about it, something tells you this is the most focused satoru has ever been in a learning environment.

after a bit more pinching and fondling, your hands slide down to your stomach and thighs, trying to get your breathing to relax. having gojo watch you do something so private was.. surreal, but you know for a fact you’ve never been this wet before, if that meant anything.

once you finally move down to your most intimate part, satoru takes a deep breath. he watches as you use your fingers to reveal a small bundle of nerves, pulsing and desperate for attention. “this is the clit, toru. s’very important.”

his eyes light up. “oh, i know that one!” he announces proudly, “i remember suguru saying i have to.. uh, worship it or something.”

you snicker at the thought of geto giving out sex pointers. “mhm, sometimes penetration isn’t enough, so you need to give it attention or i can’t really finish.”

gently, you start massaging the bud in circles, humming at the feeling of finally getting some type of relief. you move down to your hole to collect some of your wetness before bringing it back up, letting out a moan in satisfaction.

the way satoru licks his lips as you finally plunge a finger into your wetness has you shivering, but you remind yourself that for now, this was simply a demonstration and that you’d get a taste of him later.

after adding another, you attempt to reach your sweet spot by curling upwards, but it seems that even your hopelessly inexperienced boyfriend could tell that it was getting nowhere.

“aw,” he pouts teasingly, “lil’ fingers can’t reach anything, huh?”

“shut— shut up, satoru.”

before you know it, he’s moved onto his stomach again, face to face with your pussy and gripping your now soaked fingers. “you use these pathetic things when y’masturbate, huh? imagining my dick while having such tiny fingers up your cunt? kinda offended, babe..”

you feel your tummy flip, where did he learn to talk like that?

“do you have to be so vulg—“ you’re cut off by a choking gasp as a warm, wet muscle licks a stripe from your hole all the way to your clit.

“thanks for the lesson. ‘think i got it from here,” is all satoru says before he’s diving in, slurping up as much of your essence as possible before latching his plush lips right onto your poor little clit.

you can’t help but wiggle around at the jump in stimulation, but that only lasts about five seconds before a muscular arm presses you firmly against the mattress, rendering you trapped and unable to escape to his ministrations.

“hey, slow down!” your words are coincidentally yelped out right as he wiggles a much bigger finger into you. it explores your insides eagerly, caressing and feeling up what satoru believes will be his new favourite place.

“wow..” sluuurp, “so warm n’ soft in here..” he happily mumbles against your pussy. the vibrations of his now deeper voice shoot through you like electricity, eliciting another choked whine from your throat.

it felt like he was just toying with you; looking way too content drinking up everything you offered, fluid rushing down his chin and nose pushed firmly against your pelvis to inhale your scent.

suddenly, he’s jabbing his fingertip right into that pocket of sunshine that makes your eyes roll back, a loud whimper leaving your throat before you could stop it. “satoru, right there!” he swiftly seperates from your clit just to mumble out a here? in confirmation, prodding your sweet spot over and over in record breaking speed.

when you nod, he grins smugly, now adding another finger to stretch you further. “mmmph, this is pretty fun. could lie here all night.”

luckily, you barely process his words, much too busy enjoying the best finger-fuck of your life — and this was only his first time, you remember, what will the bastard do to you once he’s got some practice in?

a shaking hand tumbles into his snowy locks, attempting to pull him back weakly. “wait, m’gonna cum, toru—“

gojo growls almost animalistically, tugging your hand back onto the sheets. “then fuckin’ do it,” he demands. “c’mon, i’ve earned it, right?” then, he sucks even harder, fingers slamming and curling and making the loudest squelch you’ve ever heard.

“see?” he continues, “lil’ cunt wants to cum so bad for me. knows who 'er owner is already.” his filthy words definitely take part in the way your orgasm hits like a train, body shaking and toes curling as you let the feeling of bliss take over you. you flinch at how swiftly his tongue licks up everything you give him, the fingers in his hair tugging harder in overstimulation.

“toruuuuu..”

he simpers, tasting his cum-covered lips. “yeeees?”

“this— this is your first time, i should be making you feel good.”

slowly but surely, your eyes reopen, meeting your boyfriend’s relaxed gaze as he rubs your thigh affectionately. “dunno what you’re talking about, i felt pretty good just now.” when you only pout further, he snickers, pushing some of his bangs back smoothly. “c’mon, there’s lots of time for you to get me off later. m’ too excited for the main event..”

at last, he reaches for his sweatpants, more than excited to tug them down and finally give his aching cock some freedom. satoru doesn’t think he’s ever had a more painful boner in his life, but it was all worth seeing you release all over his tongue and fingers.

right as he finishes untying the knot, pale fingers drifting up to the waistband, you’re smacking him away to make room for your own hands. he watches with an open mouth as you pull his boxers down along with his pants, leaky, hard cock springing free and nearly hitting you in the face.

shit, of course his dick is perfect too. with a bit of white hair at the base, bulging veins adorned the entirety of his massive length, and the tip — shit, the tip was even bigger than the rest, mushroom shaped and angry red. his balls looked equally agitated and full — the epitome of breeder balls, and you gulped at the thought of him filling you up with everything they had.

now his question from earlier made sense, and he seems to be enjoying the realization on your face from his spot kneeling on the bed. “like what’cha see?” he coos, one big hand lowering to relieve the aching in his balls.

“toru, i don’t know if you’ll even fit. why— why do you have to be so big?” it’s annoying, you want to say — but the white-haired man has already laid back and manhandled you onto his chiseled stomach, a yelp escaping you at his suddenness.

he’s smiling so hard at your little dilemma that it’s almost sick, hands resting behind his head cockily. “tell me more while you ride me, baby.”

after processing that all you’ve been doing is feeding his size kink and inflating his already massive ego, you frown. “i’m serious, toru!”

“what!? i’m serious too!” the man defends with fake innocence, blue eyes shining in glee. “you’re the expert here, remember? ‘supposed to be teaching me how it’s done.”

all you do is grumble whilst moving down to sit between the sorcerer’s thighs, lightly prepping him with your fist and a dribble of spit from your mouth that has the white-haired male biting his lip. “fuck..” satoru can’t recall how many times he’s masturbated to the mental image of this exact moment, but now that it was finally happening, he promised himself to savor it as much as possible.

when you move to finally straddle him, hole hovering just above his length, he begins bucking his hips up desperately. “hurryyy…”

“are you in heat or something?” you snort, giving him a dirty glare as if you weren’t about to let him inside you.

“for you? yeah.” satoru offers you a cheesy wink and grin that dissipates the second your warmth encloses his aching tip. his hands slowly move up to grip your waist, jaw clenching in an attempt to not slam you down to his balls right then.

“ngh… fuuuck, baby,” he groans as you ever so carefully move down another inch. “jesus.. you’re sooo damn tight. dunno’ how you’re even taking me..”

you squeeze your eyes shut in attempt to bare the discomfort for him, a slight crease growing between your brows. “satoru, fuck— hurts..” he immediately reopens his eyes in worry, searching for a way to take your pain away.

yes, he could already tell that he enjoyed being meaner with you in bed — but it’s never fun if you don’t feel good as well. though he luckily recalls your lesson from earlier, moving a soft thumb down to massage your clit in tight circles.

when you jolt and nearly faceplant into his neck, he only grins proudly, now using one veiny hand to help push you further onto him. “theeere we go.. aw, feel better?”

“mhm, feels full..” you mumble back, looking down to see that you — unbelievably — still had a couple inches to go.

satoru feels like he’s about to burst on the other hand, thriving in pure ecstasy at the feeling of your walls massaging him just perfectly. he can’t help but thrust up and force his last inches inside you, an echoing smack! of skin against skin singing through the room and eliciting a startled yelp from your throat.

“toru!” despite your scolding, you can’t deny the perfection in which his tip kissed your g-spot effortlessly. his hands felt ever so soothing, comfortingly running up and down as you sat impaled on his cock, wiggling around to get comfortable and ruining him in the process.

just as you start to adjust, you feel yourself being lifted up. “m’ sorry sweets..” gojo suddenly voices, “i can’t..”

“huh? what do you m—ah!” you’re flipped onto your back before you know it, knees resting on the shoulders of your boyfriend who has a gleam in his pupils that you’ve quite frankly never seen before; he looked feral.

satoru carefully pulls out until only his tip is encased in your warmth, and everything is calm for a moment. you both take a deep breath, and he smiles down at your already fucked-out face with pride. “satoru—“

then he’s pushing back in with all the strength his massive hips can produce, and you think if it weren’t for his hands wrapped around your thighs, you would’ve got pushed off the bed entirely. you unintentionally let out the loudest sound of the night, and this sets him off.

now he was getting brutal, bullying your cunt with hit after hit against the spot that has drool dripping down your cheek and eyes crossing. you can’t even stop the pathetic noises and symphonies of right there! that leave your lips, no matter how hot your cheeks flush in embarrassment. it felt as though every time his dick jabbed back in he was right up in your tummy, veins pulsing and ensuring your pussy is molded to the perfect sleeve for him.

“toru, shit— nghh, faster, please! feels s’good!”

“nghh, toru, faster! ahaha..” he mocks you — of course he does, but picks up the pace nonetheless — now holding your lower body up so that your knees dangle higher over his shoulders and each stroke is angled exactly where you want him. “so cute when you’re gettin’ stuffed full, baby.”

he leers as you send him the harshest expression you can manage, reaching down for your clit and giggling as you start squirming in an attempt to escape the overwhelming pleasure. this bastard is having way too much fun, you realize, moans being forced out of you almost tauntingly.

tonight you discover that satoru’s way of fucking is rather animalistic, frantic, thrilling, and with the sole purpose of making you both feel as good as possible. if you want him to go slow or make love to you, you’d probably have to ask beforehand — or perhaps tie him up so you could have your fun in peace.

if your insides weren’t being rearranged, you’d grin at the thought of your boyfriend restrained and at your mercy. another night, you promise yourself.

“tightest pussy ever f’my first time baby.. haah.. can’t believe i’ve been missin’ out on this.” for once, something praising comes out of his big mouth, breathes getting cut short every time you involuntarily squeeze him harder. he swears there’s no better feeling then what you were giving him right now, not even singlehandedly resurrecting himself using the reversed curse technique.

and while no injuries have ever left a scar on gojo satoru, he decides that the claw marks you’re ruthlessly digging into his back will stay as long as his body allows — why should he hide how good he’s made you feel despite being a virgin an hour prior?

maybe if he’s in the mood to brag, he’ll show them to suguru later.

“feels good toru, fuckin’ me so good,” you feel the way his whole body reacts to your praises, a deep growl melting from his lips as the sounds of skin slapping increasingly grows in volume.

“babyyy,” he pants, legs being held higher while he digs deeper into your guts, “m’gonna cum.. need you to cum with me.“ the twitching of his length inside you gave away the fact that gojo has practically been on the edge ever since he pushed into you — and while he knows it’s completely normal to cum prematurely on your first time, when has he ever not gone above expectations?

in a split second you’re flipped onto your hands and knees, veiny hands pushing you into a deep arch while your boyfriend gives his body a moment to relax, pinching his base (a rather perverted method he’s learned by edging himself while masturbating) between his thumb and pointer.

when you needily wiggle your hips in an attempt to find his cock again, he grins boyishly. “lookin’ for this?” he sings the words right before plunging his entire length back into you, abusing your g-spot while a lanky finger impressively finds the bud between your legs right away (a skill that most ‘experienced’ men you’ve previously been with fail to achieve), circling and pinching in a frantic attempt to make your orgasms arrive in sync.

“fucking hell.." you whine, the new angle making his tip bump against spots that have never been rubbed before. “can feel you so deep..”

“oh yeah?” his bicep pulls you up so your head rests on his broad shoulder, now victim to the filth being whispered directly into your ear. “m’ i doing good? fuckin’ this lil’ pussy nice and deep like she needs?”

when you nod, he beams like a maniac, seemingly encouraged to pound you even harder as his hips pick up the pace. “damn, ‘think i’m already a pro at this, huh?”

for the sake of your sanity, you ignore his bragging. “toru, don’t stop. i’m— i’m gonna..”

“you’re gonnaaa?” he derides, kissing the corner of your lip sweetly. “tell me, baby.”

“gonna cum for you, please.” satoru almost decides to fill you up at those words, but his self control is just a bit stronger. he feels the way your cunt is pulsing, body practically shaking as you get closer and closer to release, and he’s determined to help you reach it.

his thrusts get a bit sloppier, and you’re too busy basking in your own pleasure to see the eye-candy that is gojo biting his swollen lips, sweat dripping down his temples all the way to his solid abs, snowy bangs a tad bit moist against his forehead. he looked like the definition of temptation; straight out of a wet dream with stamina that seemingly never declined.

“me too, baby. c’mon, cum on this dick. s’all yours to ruin.”

you moan as you allow yourself to let go, toes curling and nails digging into his toned forearms ecstatically. “thaaat’s it, good girl.. ahah.. such a good girl f’me.” he talks you through it as if he’s done so a million times, both of you looking down to watch your release coat his dick and the crumpled sheets below.

at his praise, you squeeze him just a bit tighter, making his lips curl up in interest. “my girl likes being praised, huh? yeah.. doing so good makin’ a mess on me..”

he pulls out, carefully lowering you to the mattress before tugging on his dick in hopes of reaching his own peak. satoru forces himself to open his eyes just enough to admire the view of you fucked out below him, body shaking slightly as you recover from the intense waves of your orgasm.

“y/n,” he abruptly whines, patting your shoulder with a subtle urgency in his voice.

“..mhmm?”

“where can i cum? quick baby— please, i’ve been holding this for way too long—“ this has your body moving, eyes popping open as you swiftly bend down so your mouth hovers directly in front of him.

you replace his fist with yours as soft lips move to suckle harsly on his leaking tip, and now it’s gojo who has his eyes rolling back; whimpers flying out of his throat every time your tongue massages the delicate underside, sending visible shocks through his body. “fuck!” he can only curse and run his fingers through your hair for support while you pump him dry. “just like that, good.. haah.. good fuckin’ girl, shiiit.”

you’ve never seen your boyfriend — the strongest — look so pathetic and desperate, but it only spurs you on further, enjoying the way he continues to blabber about how pretty you are and how he’s gonna fill your mouth like he would your pussy. in response, you greedily hum around him, licking through his slit as if you were pleading the little hole to give you what you deserved.

and only moments later, satoru’s words become reality; though he attempts to keep revelling in the feeling of your warm lips and hands, his body stills in place instinctively, one last warning tumbling out of his throat as your mouth is flooded with rope after rope of bitterly sweet fluid.

it seems like your accusations about his breeder balls were correct, because once it starts it seemingly never ends; cum now overflowing from the corners of your lips as you struggle to swallow frequently enough to not choke on how much he deposits.

meanwhile, gojo feels like he is quite literally ascending, everything becoming unimportant next to you and the feeling of pleasure being forced through him like an overwhelming earthquake, pulse after pulse as you suck him for all he’s worth.

“thas’ right.. take every damn drop, baby.” when satoru looks down and earns a glimpse of the white fluid trickling down your chin, his dick twitches in your mouth. “god, you’re so sexy..”

once he was done, you both flop onto the bed in exhaustion, and while the vulnerable moment has utmost potential to become something cute and memorable, a certain blue-eyed bastard decides to open his mouth once again.

“what’re you huffin’ and puffin’ for?” he sasses, shamelessly eyeing the way your tits rose and fell with every breath you took. “all you did was lie there while i had a full body workout!”

you take a very deep breath. “i just let you put your dick inside me. shut the fuck up.”

at your reminder of what’d just occurred, he grins like an idiot. “you’re right, thank you.” they’re soft, but he ensures his words are as audible and genuine as he can make them.

satoru isn’t exactly the best with words, but he knows damn well that — despite all the bullshit he'd spouted at those parties — you’re the only person he wanted to have his first time with, and the fact that you allowed his wish to become reality is something he’ll forever be grateful for.

“i love you..” you soften. “even if you’re a pillow princess.” you stiffen again.

nothing could stay lovey-dovey with him for too long.

a fake cry is pulled from his lips as you rudely smack his shoulder. “i tried to ride you but you flipped me over after ten seconds!”

“it’s not my fault you're as slow as a fuckin' snail!”

somehow, you both make it to the washroom despite all the banter. just as you bend over in hopes of starting the shower up, a mean spank is delivered to your ass.

when you turn to meet the culprit, he only narrows his eyes at you playfully. “round two, m’lady?” it’s almost like his voice lowers on purpose, dirty words rumbling in his throat, knowing what it did to your body.

you do your best to send him a disappointed glance anyway. “day one of not being a virgin and you’re already the horniest man i know.”

after following you inside, his fluffy hair flattens from the steamy water before nudging you back, encasing you between him and the solid wall.

“i might be willing to overlook the fact that you know other horny men if you agree to some very loving, extremely intimate making out,” he requests with a smirk, sleek nose poking yours in a much gentler way than expected.

you still send him a distrusting raise of your brow. “only making out, huh?”

the dirty smirk he sends you is all you need to know, along with his hardened dick pressing against your thigh as he moves in to kiss you.

what have you gotten yourself into?

mlist! gojo showing off his back scratches! <- if you enjoy silly virgin gojo pls lmk in the reblogs, comments, or asks <3

© inmaki on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.

tags: @gojoallmine @allofffmypeaches @haitaniholic @pandoraium

[mephisto-reporting]

Princess Treatment - LADS HCs

Premise: You spoil him rotten, giving him the true princess treatment whenever he least expects it. Based on this request. Pairing: reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. This is pure fluff and I wrote these as headcanons on how the MC would spoil the lads men.

XAVIER

Tying His Shoelaces: Xavier, perpetually lost in thought or too sleepy to notice, never realizes his shoelaces have come undone. You’ve taken it upon yourself to stop him mid-step, kneeling down without hesitation to tie them up for him. "Y-you don’t have to do that,” he murmurs, his ears tinged red as other hunters in the UNICORNS squad snicker or raise eyebrows. Despite his protests, he secretly loves the care and attention you give him. Sometimes, he’ll glance down at his laces before heading out, secretly hoping you’ll stop him again.

The Crumb Crisis: You’ve come to notice that Xavier is always getting crumbs on his face—whether it’s from a snack he didn’t realize he’d left out or a meal he’s rushed through. You’ve made it a habit to carry a handkerchief with you, and whenever you see those crumbs stuck to his cheek, you gently take the cloth and wipe them off. He’s always caught off guard, sometimes even stammering, "I'm fine, really!" but the quiet appreciation in his eyes is unmistakable.

Homecooked Comfort: After grueling missions, Xavier is too drained to do much beyond collapsing on his couch. And given his well-documented kitchen disasters—he once managed to burn soup—you’ve made it a point to spoil him with hearty, homecooked meals. From comforting stews to his favorite snacks, you make sure he’s well-fed and taken care of. The first time you did it, his sleepy eyes widened in surprise. “You… made this for me?” “Of course. You deserve it.” He savors every bite, and though he’s not great with words, the way he quietly finishes everything on his plate is thanks enough.

Fuck the machines: Claw machines are Xavier’s mortal enemy. You’ve watched him struggle time and again, his focus no match for the slippery claws, even when he uses his Evol. So, you’ve taken over as his claw machine champion. "Which one do you want this time?” you ask, cracking your knuckles as he hesitates before shyly pointing to a particularly adorable plush. You win it with ease, handing it to him with a triumphant grin. “For you, Your Highness.” He laughs softly, his rare smile lighting up his face. “You’re too good at this.”

Bedhead Boy: Xavier’s perpetually messy bedhead is endearing, but sometimes it’s just too much for you to resist smoothing down. With a quiet hum, you gently comb your fingers through his hair, fixing it without a second thought. “Hey…” he starts to protest, but he always lets you finish, his ears pink as you pat his head affectionately.

ZAYNE

Door Dash: Zayne’s disdain for hospital canteen food is no secret, and you’ve made it your mission to ensure he eats something wholesome during his grueling shifts. You send him meals carefully packed in insulated containers, often including his favorite dishes. Occasionally, you’ll slip in a small dessert, knowing his secret sweet tooth. He doesn’t say much when he gets them, but you’ve caught a glimpse of the faint smirk he wears when he opens the package. “You know I can survive on vending machine snacks, right?” he’d quip over the phone later, but the fact he finishes every bite says otherwise.

Sticky notes: Zayne isn’t the type to expect grand gestures, so you leave small, thoughtful surprises instead. A note tucked into his hospital coat pocket with a cheeky, “Don’t overwork yourself. I still need my heart surgeon around.” Or a sticky note on his dashboard that reads, “Drive safe, handsome.” Once, he found one in his mail that simply said, “Stop glaring at everyone, I know you’re secretly nice.” He pretends to be unfazed, rolling his eyes or muttering something sarcastic like, “Am I being stalked?” but he keeps every single one in a drawer at home.

Spoil me, rotten: Zayne’s wardrobe is filled with impeccably tailored long coats, a staple of his polished appearance. You’ve taken to buying him accessories like elegant brooches, leather gloves, or even scarves that perfectly complement his collection. He always protests when you present them, narrowing his eyes and saying, “You do know I can buy these myself, right?” But the next time you see him, he’s wearing the latest item with an almost imperceptible look of pride. You tease him about it, and he deadpans, “It’s just practical. Don’t overthink it.”

Doctor's Day Out: Knowing how chaotic Zayne’s schedule as a top surgeon can be, you take charge of planning the weekends so he doesn’t have to lift a finger. Whether it’s booking a cozy dinner reservation, arranging a quiet getaway, or even planning an at-home movie night, you ensure everything is set. “All you need to do is show up and look stunning,” you joke, and he raises an eyebrow. “Well, I’m halfway there already,” he retorts dryly, but the way he leans back and relaxes during those weekends tells you he’s more grateful than he lets on.

Massage therapist: Zayne’s hands are his lifeline, and after long, intricate surgeries, they’re often sore and strained. You’ve made it a habit to take his hands in yours and gently massage them, working out the tension in his fingers and wrists. He pretends to be indifferent at first but notices that your skills have improved. After all, you’d put in the effort to learn different techniques to aid him and his skilled hands. “I hope you’re not charging me for this.” He jokes. But as your thumbs press into the tight knots, his usual stoic demeanor falters. The sharp lines of stress around his eyes soften, and his shoulders, once hunched from exhaustion, slowly unwind.

RAFAYEL

After you: It’s no secret Rafayel enjoys being the center of your attention, and you’re more than happy to oblige. Wherever you are—be it a café, an art gallery, or even your own home—you always make it a point to open the door for him. Without fail, he pauses, waiting for you to complete the gesture. It’s not that he can’t do it himself, but he loves seeing that soft, proud smile on your face when you hold the door just for him. Of course, he’d never outright admit it. Instead, he’ll quip something bratty, like, “Took you long enough, Cutie” but the faint curve of his lips tells you he secretly adores it.

Color Splash: Rafayel’s world revolves around his art, and you’ve made it your mission to fuel his creativity. Whether it’s hunting down rare pigments, finding unconventional materials to create new textures, or gifting him innovative tools, you never miss an opportunity to surprise him. When he first discovers your thoughtful additions to his collection, he’s practically radiant, eyes gleaming with inspiration as he eagerly experiments. Of course, he’ll nonchalantly mutter, “I could’ve found this myself, you know,” but his excitement is undeniable, and you know you’ve made his day.

Cheater, Cheater: You pride yourself on your competitive streak, but when it comes to Kitty Cards with Rafayel, you can’t help but let him bend the rules. He catches on every time, glancing at you with a knowing smirk as he casually switches out cards while you pretend not to notice. He knows exactly what you’re doing but plays along with a sly grin. Winning always means he gets to name his prize, and without fail, it’s more time with you. “Your competitive streak is slipping, cutie,” he teases, already pulling you closer. “Guess you’ll just have to pay for it with another evening by my side.”

Passenger Princess: Whether it’s the car or your motorbike, Rafayel is always the passenger princess with you. He’s perfectly content letting you take the wheel, whether it’s navigating through traffic or cruising down open roads. He’ll sit back, casually tossing a playful comment your way, his relaxed demeanor making it clear he has no interest in taking control. But even more than that, he loves the attention you give him. He’ll rest his hand on your shoulder or his head against the seat, basking in the comfort of being close to you. It’s his way of enjoying the ride—and you—without the fuss.

Creative Clean up: Rafayel’s studio is a whirlwind of creativity, but it’s also a constant mess. Brushes, paints, papers, clothes—everything’s scattered around like a storm wrecked his living space. Coffee cups would double as pen holders, and brushes would be left lying around like they were an afterthought. But no matter how chaotic it became, you never complained. You’d roll up your sleeves and clean up every single time you visited him. He’d give you a cheeky grin, the same one he wore whenever he was being a brat, and say, “You know you don’t have to do this, right? I like my space just the way it is.” But he never stopped you, and in the moments when he didn’t look, his eyes would soften, and a hint of appreciation would slip through his normally playful mask. He knew you cared for him in a way that no one else did.

SYLUS

Product Placement: Sylus was used to getting what he wanted, whether it was luxury items or rare finds. He had his preferences, and he wasn’t one to settle for less. But when you made it your mission to keep his favorite, expensive brands stocked in your home—whether it was gourmet food, skincare products, or niche equipment—it didn’t go unnoticed. The first time you did this, Sylus had been caught off guard. He’d teased you, of course. “I don’t need you to be my personal store, kitten. I’ve got everything I need.” But when he came over and found everything perfectly laid out just the way he liked it, the teasing turned into a more meaningful smile. He would let you spoil him just enough to acknowledge your effort, but never enough to let you feel like you were getting the upper hand. That was the Sylus way.

Rare Rhythms:  Sylus’ love for rare records was well-known, and so was the fact that he had an extensive collection of limited-edition vinyl. But you didn’t mind diving into the world of obscure, indie artists just to get him something new for his collection. It wasn’t easy, though. It took long hours of scouring flea markets, searching online auction houses, and talking to music enthusiasts who knew more than a thing or two about underground talent. It was often a challenge, but for you, it was worth every second. Sylus didn’t say much, but you could tell by the way he listened to every single one of them, that he was genuinely impressed. "They’ve got potential," he'd said, before you knew it, that same artist was suspiciously rising in popularity, and you’d smile every time Sylus mentioned them. “You really know how to find a diamond in the rough, don’t you, sweetie?”

Spoiled Stubborn: Sylus was always the one taking the lead, always the one orchestrating the grand gestures. Spoiling him? Not so easy. He didn’t make it easy for anyone to do that. He would never outright refuse, but it was clear that when you tried, he preferred to return the favor rather than let you take charge. But you were stubborn—probably even more so than he was. You wanted him to be spoiled just as much. You wanted him to experience the kind of care he gave to everyone else, and you had just the way to do it: Planning dates where he couldn’t take over. Once it was picnic in the woods. You went all out—your best blankets, his favorite snacks, wine you knew he’d like—and most importantly, you took care of every detail so that he couldn’t take charge. The other time, it was a movie night at your place where everything was set: Popcorn, soda, the projector and candy. “You’re stubborn, you know that?” he remarked softly, but there was affection behind his words. "I want spoil you... but you’ve managed to spoil me instead." You smiled, the warmth in your chest spreading, knowing that in these small moment, you had made him feel cared for—something he usually avoided letting others do.

Sylus’ Salon: Sylus had always been a little gruff, his rugged demeanor giving off the impression of someone who was clinical and composed. But you knew him better than that. One of those moments was when you washed and dried his hair. He’d never asked for it, but you’d begun doing it without thinking. Maybe it was the way his silver hair shimmered under the water, or maybe it was the way he looked so disarmed when he let his guard down, letting you comb through his hair with graceful  fingers. You’d always notice how his breath would deepen, how his eyes would close just a little longer than necessary. "I know you like doing this," he’d say, the faintest hint of a grin playing on his lips. "But you’re making it hard for me to act all tough with you fussing over me like this." You’d laugh softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead before continuing to dry his hair. It was an act of tenderness, a side of him that no one got to see.

Touch Starved: Sometimes, it wasn’t the grand gestures that mattered. It was the little touches. —a soft brush of your hand against his cheek or the fleeting warmth of your fingers tracing his jaw—he couldn’t help but pause. He’d find himself rewinding moments of you brushing his hair out of his face, or simply wrapping your arms around him when he least expected it. He’d tense, but only for a moment, before letting the warmth of your embrace dissolve his guarded exterior. “It seems like a certain kitten cannot keep her hands to herself.” Sylus would tease, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips as you snuck in another kiss, letting him know that you’d spoil him with your touches and kisses, even if he won’t admit it loudly.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[lovebugism]

What if reader's friends convince her to go on a date with another guy, and this guy is an absolute jerk? I think reader would call Eddie and ask her to come pick her up - why is every guy an asshole? Except Eddie of course 🖤

ty for requesting :D — grumpy!eddie rescues you from a bad date then offers to take you on a better one (friends to lovers, hurt/comfort ish | 1k)

bug's summer fic fest (⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

The sunset matches the color of your Slurpee. A fiery red and orange hue, like the mango and strawberry concoction in your cup. You sip from the plastic straw and pretend to taste the sky in your mouth — pretending not to notice the pounding bass of Eddie’s van as he peals into the parking lot. 

You sit on the curb and keep your eyes trained on the cracked pavement under your feet. All cool. Like you hadn’t called him for help at all.

“You could’ve been more specific about where you were, you know?” Eddie shouts, punctuating his question with the slam of the car door. His worn sneakers scuff the concrete with each of his rushed strides. You’d almost think he was actually worried about you.

“I told you I was at the payphone by the Seven-Eleven,” you shrug, tilting your chin to look up at the boy when he stands ahead of you.

“There’s four of those,” he argues, with his lanky figure looming over you. He pushes his leather jacket off his sides (which he wears in spite of the summer heat) to put his hands on his hips. “Seriously. I counted ‘em all in the half hour it took me to find you.”

You squint up at him, hardly apologetic after the shit day you’ve had. “Well, sorry for not being more clear,” you spit in a cynical monotone.

“Apology accepted,” Eddie shrugs. He huffs and sits on the curb next to you while you slurp audibly at the slushie in your fist. He leans over to knock your shoulders with his. “What happened?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Figured… Can I have some, at least?”

He’s only partly surprised when you hand over the drink without protest. He takes it in his ringed fist, looks inside to observe its content, then sips at the red straw (trying to ignore the nagging thought that your lips have been where his are now). The strawberry-mango mixture melts quickly on his tongue, foreign and sweet. “’S nice.”

You scoff like you’re owed the compliment. “Right? I let Josh try some earlier, and he said it tasted like shit. I was like, you know what, this is my final fucking straw.”

Eddie’s face screws. He wipes dramatically at his mouth with the back of his hand, hopelessly trying to erase the other asshole’s DNA. “Are you serious?” he mumbles, all annoyed ‘cause you hadn’t thought to warn him beforehand. You don’t seem to understand his meaning, though, as you shrug lazily in response.

“Well, him trying to feel me up in his car was my actual final straw. But then he hated my all-time favorite Slurpee, and I didn’t even want to look at him anymore. I just told him to leave me here.”

The only thing Eddie hates more than putting his mouth where Josh’s has been — other than the thought of Josh taking you on a date at all — is the idea of Josh not treating you right. His chest burns with a withheld rage.

“Are you talking about fucking Josh O.?” he scoffs and passes the styrofoam cup back to you. “Like, the moron from Mr. Mundy’s, Josh O.? That’s who Steve set you up with?”

“Unfortunately,” you grumble and take another sip, more casual about the subtle spit-swapping than the boy beside you had been.

“He was basically setting you up for failure, then. You know that, right?”

“I just wanted a free meal,” you confess quietly.

Eddie squints. His eyes flit from your profile, to your fidgeting hand punching holes in the ice with your straw, and back to your profile again. “Well, did you get one?”

“Yep. We split one burger at the diner.”

A laugh sputters from his pink mouth.

Your head whips to glare at him. “It’s not funny.”

Eddie props his elbow on his knee to hide his smile behind his ringed hand. “I mean… It kinda is, though. ‘Cause even I could buy two meals for us, and I’m basically the brokest fucker in this town.”

“Are you offering?”

His brows pinch. “Offering what?”

“To buy me a burger,” you say in a mousy voice, pretending to be innocent as you peer at him beneath your lashes, all doe-eyed.

“What?” Eddie scoffs through the sparkling in his chest. As a self-proclaimed metalhead, there was absolutely nothing metal about confessing to stupid crushes. “No.”

“Well, it sounds a lot like you’re offering,” you tease before wrapping your lips around the straw of your drink.

“Well, this sounds a lot like talking for someone who doesn’t wanna talk about it,” he mocks.

Your eyes narrow in annoyance. You part from your Slurpee and mumble through the ice on your tongue. “I wasted my quarters on you,” you deadpan.

Eddie rolls his eyes. He rises from the curb with a huff, wincing at the distant ache in his long legs. “C’mon, weirdo. Let’s go,” he urges, towering over you again.

You shake your head, gaze averted, suddenly shy. “I’m okay here.”

“Let’s go.”

“I’m serious, Eds. I don’t feel like going home right now—”

“I’m not taking you home,” he scoffs like it’s obvious. Your eyes flit back to his, suddenly hopeful again, and he tries not to cower. “I’m taking you to the diner. So I can get you a real meal.”

You seem particularly moved by the uncharacteristic act of kindness. “Really?”

“Yes, really— I don’t want you to starve to death,” he grouses, feigning annoyance ‘cause it’s easier than facing his real feelings in the face. “Now, let’s go before I change my mind.”

He walks off ahead of you on long legs, leaving you behind to catch up. But, because he isn’t a total asshole, he opens the squeaking passenger side door for you.

“Can I get a milkshake, too?” you wonder with a scrunched nose, helping yourself onto the cracked pleather seat.

“Don’t push it,” Eddie squints. He goes to shut the door, then catches the pretty pout pinching your features. “Fine,” he groans before slamming it shut.

[darknight3904]

All Yours, Coryo

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪:ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʜᴏᴏᴅꜱ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴀꜱ ʜᴇ ʙʀɪɴɢꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ꜰɪʟʟᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅᴛʜɪʀꜱᴛʏ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴛᴜʀɴ.

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇx. ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ɴᴀɪᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ɪꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ʙʟɪɴᴅᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴄᴏʀʏᴏ'ꜱ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ꜱᴏ ꜱʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴀʟʟ ʜɪꜱ ʀᴇᴅ ꜰʟᴀɢꜱ. ꜱᴏ ᴀᴍ ɪ.

ɪ ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛʟʏ ʜɪᴛ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʏᴇꜱᴛᴇʀᴅᴀʏ ɪɴꜱᴛᴇᴀᴅ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴀᴠᴇ ꜱᴏ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴀᴡ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴇᴀʀʟɪᴇʀ, ɴᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ.

ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ.

Coriolanus has never been the easiest person to understand. His mind was always racing and it kept you on your toes. Even now as he fretted over his appearance in the mirror you could tell his mind was thinking of a million things beyond whether or not his tie fit him correctly.

"For what it's worth, I think you look perfect." You say, sipping at your drink, you had been ready for nearly twenty minutes while Coriolanus was still figuring out what tie matched his pants best.

"I'm sure you do but this isn't just any party, I'm campaigning tonight and everything must be perfect." He says adjusting his hair even though it already sat perfectly styled atop his head.

It was Coriolanus' 23rd birthday and instead of celebrating like you usually did, you were both spending it at a party full of people who might help him reach the presidency by the beginning of next year. You approach him and wrap your arms around him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

"It will be." You assure, pressing a kiss to his exposed neck where his makeup artist did a wonderful job at covering the marks you had left behind last night.

"If all goes well tonight, you might just become the first lady of Panem one day." He smiles at you through the mirror

"Does that mean we're getting married?" You laugh, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at the idea of being with him forever

"Maybe..." Coriolanus says suddenly avoiding your eyes as his face reddens under your gaze.

You giggle at your boyfriend's flustered face, despite how grown up he had become in the past few years he was still the same boy you met at the academy all those years ago who just wanted his own bowl of fruit to gobble down.

"You definitely wanna marry me, Coryo!" You say almost as if you had discovered a secret of his.

"Well if you're not interested I can always find another." He jests, finally tying his tie.

"Oh please, I'm the only one who could ever tolerate you." You smile as he spins around to face you and rests his hands on your hips

"That you are, darling, that you are." He smiles and presses a chaste kiss to your lips

Coriolanus is sure you are his favorite person in the entire world. From the way you'd laugh at his jokes to the way your nose whistled when you slept, he loved it all. Even now as the two of you had long abandoned your teenage years and stepped into adulthood, he knew he didn't want to lose you. His interactions with Lucy Gray and his time in District 12 had only solidified how he wanted you to stay close to him. He watches as you cross the room to slip into a pair of pretty high heels, he loved the way your dress sat on your body, it was perfectly fitted and he wondered what designer had been able to craft it so perfectly.

He looked back at the mirror and pretended to fiddle with his outfit again even though he knew he looked perfect. Instead, his eyes cast to the small table next to the mirror where a collection of photos sat you and him over the past five years. His favorite though was the one that was taken at your 17th birthday party. He remembered how warm it had been, and at one point someone had filled a bucket of water and tossed at you. He had expected you to cry out and push everyone out of your home but instead, he was met with your laughter and thus a water fight had begun. The picture of the two of you had been taken not even twenty minutes later, both of you were drenched but happy and you had linked your arms together right before the picture was taken. Sometimes he wished to go back to those moments, to relieve the last bits of his boyhood even though it meant going back to that decrepit building he once lived in and the taste of cabbage a constant on his tongue.

"Thinking about the past?" You ask from across the room.

"Thinking about how ugly we look here." He says picking up the photo

"Nonsense, we're adorable in that. If I remember correctly that was taken a few weeks before you tripped me in my room trying to slow dance and then you gave me the kiss of a lifetime." You smile

"I didn't trip you, you tripped me with your bad dancing." He laughed, returning the photo to its proper place among the others.

"Whatever you say, Coryo." You smiled, he could tell you didn't believe one word that came from his mouth about the tripping incident.

These parties were always a bit tedious for you. You enjoyed seeing Coriolanus happy among Capitol elites and you loved the lavish dresses you got to wear but sometimes it became overwhelming. The sheer amount of reporters that were always at these things is what drove you crazy. Coriolanus ate the attention up and answered all their questions about how he'd change Panem for the better but you were usually left answering questions about what your dress was made of or what your relationship was with Coriolanus. He often assured you that once he won the presidency he'd have more control over what was asked and that you'd never have to answer another dress question again. You hoped he won as soon as possible, it was tiring pretending this line of questioning was interesting.

"Is that real gold on your sleeves?"

"Is that ring on your finger an engagement ring?"

"Who did your hair for the evening?"

"Are you going to have the future president's children?"

"Did you seduce Coriolanus Snow for power in the Capitol?"

"How many toes do you have?"

God you wished they'd all shut up, or at least get better questions. Even just something as small as your involvement with your father's company would've been better than this. You ignored whatever trash was coming from their mouths and held on to Coriolanus' arm like he was going to disappear and end up back in District 12 again.

You remembered that day very well, after Coriolanus' tribute had won he had just disappeared despite promising to walk you home after the games had ended. When he didn't show up for graduation either, you found yourself outside Tigris and Grandma'am's new residence looking for answers. Tigris had told you what happened with him and that girl, Lucy Gray, how he cheated with rat poison and a handkerchief of his father's. At first, you had been distraught that he was sent off to District 12, stuck there for twenty years as some peacekeeping grunt, you'd be an ugly middle-aged woman by the time he got back! You had been in the pits of despair about your relationship with him but all it took was one terrifying meeting with Dr. Gaul to change your attitude. Once she revealed that Coriolanus would be back in the Capitol soon, and she was simply testing his dedication to the games, you relaxed. While Dr. Gaul might not have all her marbles you knew she wasn't lying, and sure enough, your Coriolanus returned to you in a matter of weeks.

However, he returned to you differently though. Sure, his head was shaved like all Peacekeepers and the curls you loved to play with were gone, but his attitude had also changed. Perhaps it was that Songbird he never wanted to speak of even now. You could never quite place what happened between Coriolanus and her, all that mattered to you was that he had assured you it wasn't romantic. Just shared ambitions to both win something. In her case her life and in his the Plinth Prize, not that that went well for her since she had disappeared shortly after she went home. You weren't quite sure what to make of Lucy Gray, the mysterious Songbird who had enchanted all of Panem just five years ago. You had only spoken to her once and it was just to compliment her singing during her interview. She hadn't exactly impressed you with her in that moment but she must have impressed Coriolanus at some point if he was willing to break rules for her.

Or perhaps his change was due to whatever training Peacekeepers went through and the death of Sejanus that had rocked the entire Capitol when he was revealed as a traitor, you knew Coriolanus had been close to him. Of course, despite all his changes and attitude adjustments, he never applied them to you. So, here you stayed by his side, happy that he still loved you the same. Soft touches and sweet words remained constant as the two of you aged and explored the advantages of adulthood. One of your favorite things about being 23 was moving out of your family's home and into the penthouse Coriolanus had chosen for the two of you. Waking up next to Coriolanus each day and seeing how he looked before his eyes fluttered open had to be your favorite part of the days you spent together. Brushing his hair from his eyes and counting the freckles that just barely brushed his pale skin was something you did daily until his pretty blue eyes met yours again. Once he did wake though, it was hard to get him to stay in bed with you. His peaceful state was always replaced with a man who was always working towards something, ambition was always fueling him.

You didn't mind his rough exterior that emerged each morning though, Coriolanus was cold and hard on everyone but you. Perhaps it was your shared childhood memories and teenage romance that prevented him from treating you coldly like he did poor Tigris but you weren't sure. One thing you did know was that the boy you grew up with was gone and a man stood in his place, brooding and cold to everyone but you.

"I'm going to get us a drink and then if you want we can dance." He whispered in your ear

"Can you get me that fizzy lemon drink they usually serve?" You ask

"Of course, I'll bring you some of those hors d'oeuvres you like with the cheese as well."

And then, he was gone from your side moving expertly through the crowd. That dazzling blonde hair accompanied by the broadest shoulders you've ever seen on a man disappeared among the throngs of people craning their necks to get a better look at the future president and his pretty face.

"A true marvel isn't he?" a voice to your right said

You turned to be met by none other than Lucky Flickerman, a drink in one hand and a young child's hand grasped in the other.

"I'm not interested in doing an interview, Lucky. If you want information on Coryo you can ask him yourself." You say, ready to walk away from the Capitol's favorite news anchor turned Hunger Games host.

"Coryo...what an interesting nickname, a bit childish for a man who might watch over us all soon. No matter, I would however absolutely love to report on you one day and maybe even that big business you're the heiress of, but I'm actually talking to you for this little one tonight." Lucky smiles motioning to the boy who you guessed was his son. "He was admiring that stunning dress of yours and I thought he might want to see it up close and personal."

For once you didn't mind being asked about your clothes as you crouched down to the little boy's height, he couldn't be more than 5 or 6.

"You have a good eye, would you like to feel the fabric? The designer I met with made it wonderfully soft." You smile, thinking of how Tigris had gushed over the blood-red fabric that would perfectly match Coriolanus' suit with you just weeks ago.

The boy reaches his hand out and brushes it along expensive fabric and a smile grows on his face.

"What's your name?" You ask

"Caesar." He says "I just turned 6 last week."

"Well, Caesar, six is a marvelous age to be, you can do all sorts of things at six. In fact, when I turned six I learned to ride a bicycle for the first time, I did however scrape my knees half a million times. I even still have a few scars on my knees would you like to see them?." You smile at him and he nods.

"Lucky Flickerman, I thought I told your producers that you weren't allowed to bother her with your idiotic questions the way the other reporters do. You clearly don't value your job, if you did you would have listened to my words." Coriolanus' voice suddenly fills your ears as you quickly right yourself, remembering how he once told you you'd have to start holding yourself with more decorum at these events. 'No more acting like a stupid teenager' had been his exact words one night when you were eating dinner together in your shared room.

"It's fine, his son wanted to say hello." You smile down at Caesar, take your lemon drink, and pop some of the food Coriolanus brought with him into your mouth. You sincerely hoped that you weren't about to witness Lucky being fired by the newest mastermind behind The Hunger Games and future the president.

From the corner of your eye, you see Coriolanus cast an intimidating look down at the boy and you resist the urge to elbow him in the ribs and force him to apologize to the poor child who was now cowering behind his father's stylish pant leg.

"I'll see you later, Lucky. We are going to go dancing now." Coriolanus says setting your barely sipped drink and food on a tray of a passing server before whisking you away.

"You're bad with children, Coryo." You say as he leads you towards the dance floor.

"And you're bad at reading people, darling." He says, ignoring the way you pouted at your loss of lemon drink and cheese-sprinkled food.

"What do you mean?" You ask, confused

"Lucky just wanted to get you to answer questions about me," Coriolanus says as he leads you in a dance, the both of you had gotten exceptionally better since your failure at 17 in your childhood bedroom.

"Oh." You say, a bit sad that he wasn't genuinely interested in you, just another dumb reporter who wanted news on Coriolanus' next move. It was amazing how Coriolanus always knew what others were thinking and how to approach a situation best.

"It's alright, just ignore him next time," Coriolanus says, gently squeezing your waist as a form of reassurance.

You nod and rest your head on his shoulder as you spin around the dance floor, suddenly wishing you were tangled up in bed with him rather than dancing in heels that were pinching your toes.

"Can I confess something to you?" Coriolanus whispers, his lips tickling your ear.

"Of course, always " You reply honestly

"I hate seeing you interacting with them." He says in a low voice.

"Them?" You ask

"These people. Seeing them ask you questions about your dress or hair, makes me want to toss them into the arena and watch one of Gaul's mutts rip them apart. I hate the way they look at you like you're a piece of meat attached to my side." He says, possessiveness lacing his tone.

"Oh...well I'm sure they don't all think that way." You try to reason, hoping that he wasn't right about this read on others.

"I doubt it. Look at that one by the fountain in the blue jacket." He says nodding to his right.

You glance over to the fountain and see an old man with a fluffy white beard and white hair to match. He seemed to be carefully watching you and Coriolanus spinning on the dancefloor but you weren't quite sure.

"I'm positive he's standing there imagining what it'd look like if this pretty dress was on the floor and you were on top of him," Coriolanus whispers, knowing it'll have you blushing in his arms.

"Coryo..." You say, trying to keep your composure as he presses his body to yours while you wonder if he's truly right and the old man across the pretty courtyard is truly ogling you.

"Too bad I'm the only one who will ever know what that looks like." He says a certain arrogance in his voice you can't quite place.

"Stop it." You scold, trying to hide the fact that your face is as red as your dress.

"Why? I can't wait to get back to our bedroom tonight and bring what's in my head to life." Coriolanus laughs, his voice was husky in your ears and making you weak in the knees.

"You're so embarrassing, Coryo." You say into his chest, avoiding that sharp gaze he had. How could someone act so well-composed but also have the dirty mind of a perverted teenage boy?

Coriolanus stops leading your dance and hooks a finger under your chin so you're looking up at him again. Sharp blue eyes that felt like they were staring into your soul looked at you, full of passion and want.

"My heart burns for you, darling, as it always has. You're mine, my perfect girl, all mine." He promises before swooping in to deliver what might qualify as the most monumental kiss in all of history.

A certain warmness spreads across your body as he kisses you in public for the first time. It's moments like this with your Coriolanus make your heart swell, these moments remind you that the little boy with the golden curls you met when you were just twelve lives on, just in a different way. You know the teenager you once ate cabbage soup and bread with sweet jam watches over you as you kiss his 23-year-old self, you know he's smiling at where the two of you are now. You're sure that the same boy who once spun you around your childhood bedroom to your favorite slow song is still here with you now, even if he rarely shows his face. Coriolanus Snow is always watching over you, every version of him envelopes you tonight as he shows the world who you are to him.

Your head spins and your lungs burn as you hear a few whoops and cheers from onlookers while others whisper about how Coriolanus' hands are wandering all over your body. You're sure the way he's kissing you is going to end up on some Capitol news reel tomorrow morning but you can't find the heart to care. Somewhere in his chest, you feel Coriolanus let out a deep groan when you run your hands through his hair ruining the way it was perfectly styled for the evening. You gasp when his teeth nip at your bottom lip and pull away, a gasp for air leaving your now surely swollen lips.

"All yours, Coryo." You assure him and lean in for another kiss.

You smile as he kisses back and couldn't care less about what the world around you thinks, you had your Coryo, the boy who you grew up with and ate cabbage together in his decrepit home, the same boy who danced with you despite his own lack of skill. You were with your Coriolanus, the man who was going to carry Panem into a new age of glory.

Part Three

Series Masterlist

Read the Teaser here

So I uh sorta ended up abandoning fluffy Coryo thoughts from part one and went with the reader's pov of him at 23, I hope that's okay with all of you. He still loves you though don't worry, it's just in his own Coryo way. His own magically manipulative Coryo way. I was initially going to make this part during the 10th Hunger Games but then I thought, wouldn't it be interesting to see how he interacts with reader post Lucy Gray considering how much she changes his ideals. To make things clear, every moment with Lucy Gray and Coryo has occurred and the reader is unaware of pretty much all of it here, obviously since she's so goo goo gah gah over him.

If you'd like more of my writings about Coryo and you, my fic Blank Space might be the read for you, it also has a part two that is available now You can read them both here. (Yes it's based on the Taylor Swift song)

Taglist:

@bl0ndelilac

@lucygreene

@lwqfhp

@belle643

@fantasylovestoryme

@alana4610

@threeinchminimum

@dangelnleif

@hannaeditzs

@1950schick

@ennycutie

@janelongxox

@ajs-222

@or-was-it-just-a-dream

@notlilyyyy

@nicksolemnlyswears

@diannana

@ashrsworld

@lokidala

@clintsupremacy

@brilliantreid

@badassbitch-21

@steppingonshatteredglass

@405rry @folklorde24

@eir964

@charlesswife

@fangirling-galore

[strawberrykidneystone]

mistletoe

sevika x fem! reader

summary: sevika had never really gotten into any holiday traditions, but you were determined to make your first winter season together memorable

a/n: guys it actually feels like christmas this year im so happy

tags: tooth rotting fluff, kissing, cuddling

ao3 version

ty for requesting anon!!

when sevika came back from work one day to find your shared house covered in winter decorations, she was a little dumbfounded to say the least. the holidays were never really a thing for her family and she had never properly celebrated it, unless you count getting shitfaced in a bar since she had work off “celebrating”. there were little christmas knick knacks on basically every available surface, poinsettias, holly, and garlands galore matched with twinkling lights. she had never actually seen a hallmark movie but from what she’d heard, she was pretty sure she just walked into one.

and to top it all off, there you were with a wide smile on your face, standing at the door to your kitchen with two steaming hot mugs full of hot cocoa waiting for her as soon as she got in the door. you had a green, white, and red patterned sweater on that looked slightly itchy with a pair of sweats, clearly ready for some serious cuddling, which she was definitely in the mood for after the day that she just had. she looked around the house with a bit of child-like wonder in her eyes as she shucked off her coat and emptied out her pockets into the bowl by your door, “holy shit.”

“do you like it?”

“it looks like an elf threw up in here.”

you rolled your eyes and happily glided over to her, pressing the steaming mug into her chilled hands. it did snow in zaun, but it turned to more of a slush as soon as it hit the ground which was sad, but it was better than no snow at all in your opinion. plus, it was funny to see a sleepy sevika fall on her ass in the morning when she went out to get the paper.

“is it pretty throw up at least?” you asked sweetly as you fluttered your lashes up at her.

she took a second to glance around once more at your winter wonderland and took a big gulp of the chocolate liquid while pretending to think, licking the mustache off her upper lip with a satisfied smiled, “yes it’s very pretty, almost as pretty as the girl who decorated it.”

you blushed and smiled giddily as she pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek, her scarred lips were a comfortable warmth against your skin. you chatted about your plans for the outside of the house as you followed her into your shared bedroom, not missing the groan that sevika let out when you mentioned her potentially having to go up onto the roof.

but alas, she would do it for you.

after she had changed out of her work clothes and into her comfy ones, you practically dragged her into the living room that now had snowman throw pillows with matching blankets arranged onto the couch. the two of you curled up on the sofa with your respective beverages, sevika spooning you with her back against the upright cushions. thankfully, your sweater wasn’t as itchy as it looked and was quite soft pressed against her skin, a welcomed warmth against her tank top-clad torso. clicking through the channels with the tv remote, you turned on a fire background on your television while the two of you chatted about your respective days and enjoyed each other’s company after only seeing each other briefly for a goodbye kiss in the morning.

when your talk slowly faded into a comfortable silence that was only broken when one of you yawned, the two of you slowly got up from your cocoon of warmth with you carrying the dirty dishes into the kitchen as sevika quietly trailed after you with a warm hand pressed into the middle of your back. she hugged you from behind while you stood in front of the sink and buried her face into the crook of your neck while you washed the mugs, softly pressing a kiss onto your shoulder every so often. you screeched as she teased her cold metal hand under your shirt and smacked it away, a boisterous laugh leaving your lover as she peppered a few apology kisses down your neck. drying your hands off and turning around in her arms, a lazy smile tugging on her lips.

“c’mon big mama, let’s get you to bed,” you cooed and pulled her along behind you, leading her with your hand laced in her flesh one. she squeezed your hand in hers, gladly letting herself be led to your shared bedroom as she gave a playful slap to your ass with her mechanical hand that earned her a playful grimace as you glanced over your shoulder at her.

suddenly stopping in the doorway of the kitchen, sevika barely had time to stop before she would’ve plowed you onto the ground. you grinned up at your girlfriend who had a very confused look on her face as you dropped her hand when you spun around to face her, your hands mischievously clasped behind your back.

“what?”

you silently pointed up to the plant hanging above your heads with the bright red berries shining in contrast to its pointy green leaves.

“we’re under mistletoe.”

“okay?…”

“the tradition is that you have to kiss whoever you’re under the mistletoe with.”

“baby if you wanted a kiss you could’ve just-“

you covered her mouth with you hand before she could protest and shook your head, “tradition!”

she sighed against your hand and grabbed your wrist to peel your fingers off of her mouth.

“alright alright,” she grumbled as reached forward and rested her hands on your hips, pulling you in so close that your torsos were pressed together.

you grinned at her as she humored your “silly holiday traditions” and pulled her down into a passionate kiss, throwing your arms tightly around her neck. the taste of hot chocolate still lingered on both of your mouths, making the kiss all the more sweet as your lips interlocked in a practiced dance. your heart filled with so much warmth as you silently swore to give sevika the holiday season that she deserved, especially to make up for all the ones she missed celebrating in years prior.

sevika hummed and pulled back from the kiss before it got too heated, resting her forehead against yours with her eyes closed in contentment.

“you better not be under this stupid plant with anyone else.”

you smiled and rubbed the tip of your nose against hers, “wouldn’t dream of it sev.”

a/n: guilty pleasure during this season is mistletoe by justin bieber

taglist: @maneskinwh0re @archangeldyke-all @fandoms-will-be-the-death-of-me @sevikasfan @lez-zuha @comfortripley @sunflowerwinds

[hoshifighting]

haiii,, this is my first time requesting anything from a fic writer but ive been binging your fics like all week and i loveeee your writing style!! I know you've previously written seventeen impact play but i was wondering if you had any thoughts about impact play with sub!svt...

(personal opinion and also kinda biased but I think slapping chan or mingyu across the face would be- EXPLODSION NOISES)

((also if this ask makes you uncomfy plz feel free to ignore it ,, ty for the fics <333 !!))

impact play with sub!seventeen

WARNINGS: smut, impact play

seungcheol: sub!seungcheol is a sight to behold imo. the man who’s always in charge loves handing over to you st some point of your relationship. but don't think that he'll be all cute, this man will be little shit, challenging you at first “harder,” he grits through his teeth, his knuckles pale as he grips the headboard. but the second you leave a red mark across his thighs, he’s melting, moaning louder than usual. he’s the type to thank you after every smack after you 'put him in his place'.

jeonghan: will tease you until you actually follow through. “oh, what are you gonna do?/are you going to do it?” when your palm meets his skin, he’s arching into your touch with a soft drawn-out moan. “okay, okay!” he whimpers, trying to save face even as he's almost cumming there.

joshua: he's so obedient it’s almost unfair. he’ll kneel at your feet, hands behind his back, looking up at you with wide pleading eyes. “is this okay?” you ask before the first strike lands, but the soft gasp he lets out tells you he’s more than okay. he’ll squirm, biting his lip to hold back his moans, but by the third or fourth hit, he’s gone, whining, “please… just one more, i can take it.”

junhui: a such a slut for it, let’s be real. he’ll lie across your lap, wiggling his hips and grinning back at you. “don’t go easy on me, okay?” he says, and you almost fold as you look at his eyes that are full of trust. every smack pulls a delicious little moan from his lips,

hoshi: he’ll flop down dramatically, draping himself across the bed like he’s starring in his own m/v. “dont feel sorry for me,” he giggles, when your hand meets his ass—is not even a harsh slap, his laughter turns into the sweetest whimpers. he’ll bury his face in the pillow.

woozi: he's not the loudest sub, but his reactions are everything. he’ll bite his lip, muffling the soft groans that slip out as you leave red streaks across his soft ass. his hands clench at the sheets, his thighs squeezed together as he feels his cock get harder and harder with each slap.

wonwoo: he's the type that will try to hide how horny he is, but by the third strike, his head falls back, moaning as he fists his hands on the sheets. he would def buy a paddle, especially for him (or buy even matching ones, with a heart shape <3)

minghao: he’ll stretch out for you, offering himself with an sleek smirk. “make it count.” he says. his body archs beautifully, he didn't pretend to try it again, he thought it would be a one-time thing, but he liked, it more than he will ever say to you.

mingyu: the loudest little whimpering mess you’ve ever seen. every smack has him shaking, “oh my god, i—i want to cum… please, baby, don’t stop.” his cheeks are flushed, his eyes full of tears, and he’s absolutely soaking up every ounce of attention you’re giving him.

seokmin: a softie, even as a sub. he’ll flinch with the first strike, letting out a surprised little gasp, but then he softens under your touch, his body going pliant. “does it look bad?” he asks nervously, glancing over his shoulder, but when you reassure him, he’s blushing and smiling through the next smack. “oh, that’s—okay, yeah, that’s good. i like that.”

seungkwan: brattiest sub in the world, hands down. he’ll whine and complain, when your hand actually lands on him, he’s gasping and burying his face in the pillow to not give you the taste of his contorted-in-pleasure-face. “okay, okay, i’m sorry,” he whimpers, his voice muffled as you pull his head by the hair. by the next smack, he’s moaning, “just one more? i promise i’ll be good this time.”

vernon: he’ll clench his jaw, his eyes fluttering shut, he will be really whiny at the end—and will probably ask for an aftercare after. his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, his thighs tense, trying to not look so affected, but when you used the combo impact play + dirty talk, he will almost liquefy in your hands.

chan: the sweetest, eager to please even as you take control. “should I arch more?” he asks nervously, glancing up at you before the first smack lands. but the second it does, his eyes go wide, and a shaky little moan escapes him. “oh—oh my god, s'good!” he stammers, his cheeks flushing deep red. toward the end, he’s clinging to you.

[bu3ck3r]

nothing feels better

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: pazzi being all cute with each other

a/n: this is my very first fic so lmk if you like it and if yes i wouldn’t mind any suggestions for some next ones😭

Paige Bueckers knew she was in trouble the first time she saw Azzi Fudd shoot a three-pointer in person. Not because Azzi was a rival—no, that would have been easier. Paige could handle rivalries, she thrived on competition. But this? This was different. This was her heart skipping a beat as the ball arced perfectly through the air and swished through the net like it was drawn there by fate. This was trouble.

By the time Azzi committed to UConn, Paige had long since accepted that she was smitten. Of course, she'd never admit it outright. She had a reputation to uphold, after all—witty, confident, the undisputed queen of teasing. She and Azzi had developed a playful, competitive friendship over the years, always pushing each other to be better, always one-upping each other in any way possible. It just so happened that along the way, somewhere between the trash talk and the late-night gym sessions, Paige had fallen hard.

The first few months at UConn were a whirlwind. Practices were brutal, classes were exhausting, and the spotlight was ever-present. But through it all, Paige and Azzi had each other. Whether it was studying in the library late at night or sneaking snacks into the film room, they became inseparable. And then, one chilly November evening, something shifted.

They were the last two left in the gym, as usual. Paige was sprawled on the hardwood, catching her breath after another round of shooting drills. Azzi stood over her, hands on her hips, a smirk playing at her lips.

"Giving up already, Bueckers?"

Paige groaned, dramatically rolling onto her side. "You see, Fudd, some of us have already perfected our game. We don’t need to spend all night proving we’re better than everyone else."

Azzi snorted, nudging Paige’s shoulder with her foot. "Please. You just don’t want me to outshoot you."

Paige propped herself up on her elbows, raising an eyebrow. "Outshoot me? You?"

"Yeah. Me." Azzi crossed her arms, tilting her head. "One round. Loser buys the winner ice cream."

Paige grinned. "Oh, you’re on."

She should have known better. Should have known that Azzi, when determined, was nearly impossible to beat. Shot after shot, they matched each other, neither willing to back down. It wasn’t until Paige’s last attempt bounced off the rim that Azzi let out a victorious laugh, hands in the air.

"Looks like I’ll have some cookies with my ice cream, thank you very much."

Paige groaned again, but this time she was smiling. "Yeah, yeah. You just got lucky."

Azzi dropped down beside her, still grinning. "Or maybe I’m just better."

Paige nudged her knee against Azzi’s. "Debatable."

There was a moment—quiet, warm, despite the cool air of the gym. Azzi’s smirk softened, and for the first time, Paige let herself admit it. This wasn’t just a friendship built on competition. This was something more.

From that night on, things changed in subtle ways. They still teased, still competed, but there were lingering glances, soft smiles exchanged across the court. Paige found herself noticing the little things—how Azzi tucked her hair behind her ear when she was nervous, how she hummed under her breath while tying her shoes. And, apparently, Azzi noticed things about Paige too.

"You chew on your lip when you’re thinking too hard," Azzi pointed out one afternoon while they were watching game film.

Paige blinked. "I do not."

"You do." Azzi smirked. "It’s cute."

Paige nearly choked on her water bottle.

Their teammates caught on pretty quickly. KK Arnold was the first to say something, leaning against the lockers one day with a knowing smirk.

"So, when are you two gonna stop pretending you’re just ‘best friends’?"

Paige scoffed. "What are you talking about?"

KK rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. The heart eyes? The ridiculous amount of time you spend together? The fact that you two practically have your own language?"

Azzi, who had been tying her sneakers, muttered, "We do not."

"Oh really?" KK mimicked their back-and-forth banter perfectly, down to the teasing tones and the way they always countered each other’s points. Paige and Azzi exchanged a glance before bursting into laughter.

"Okay, fine," Paige admitted. "Maybe we’re… close."

"Close," KK repeated dryly. "Right."

It took another month before Paige finally worked up the nerve to do something about it. They were walking back to their dorm after a late practice, the campus quiet around them. Azzi was talking about something—maybe a new shooting drill, maybe a class she liked—but Paige wasn’t really listening. She was too focused on the way Azzi’s hand brushed against hers as they walked.

So she stopped walking.

Azzi turned, confused. "What—"

And then Paige kissed her.

It was soft, unsure for half a second before Azzi melted into it, her hands gripping Paige’s hoodie to pull her closer. When they finally broke apart, Azzi let out a breathless laugh.

"Took you long enough."

Paige grinned, her forehead resting against Azzi’s. "Yeah, yeah. I was just giving you time to catch up."

Azzi rolled her eyes but didn’t let go. "Debatable."

From then on, they were inseparable in a new way. They still competed, still pushed each other, but now there were soft kisses after wins and comforting hugs after tough losses. There were whispered good lucks before tip-off and celebrations that turned into tangled limbs and laughter in their dorm. There were stolen glances during team meetings, fingers laced together under the table, and endless teasing from their teammates.

"Y’all are disgusting," KK announced one day after catching them sharing a look across the court.

Paige smirked. "Jealous?"

"Absolutely not."

Azzi just laughed, squeezing Paige’s hand. "She’s totally jealous."

And so it went—two competitors, two teammates, two people who had found something special in each other, on and off the court. Because as much as they loved winning, nothing felt quite as good as loving each other.

[petrichorium]

The hostess has returned once more with yet another date… this time it’s Shigaraki Tomura 😳 the two are dressed in an ensemble inspired by an enderman and ender pearl!

𝚢 𝚘 𝚞 𝚊 𝚛 𝚎 𝚌 𝚘 𝚛 𝚍 𝚒 𝚊 𝚕 𝚕 𝚢 𝚒 𝚗 𝚟 𝚒 𝚝 𝚎 𝚍 𝚝 𝚘 . . .

come attend with one (or many) of your blorbos by sending me an ask with your outfits, based off of a matching theme or costume! this lil event will be lasting until the end of halloween bc i know it can take a bit to find the perfect fit 🫶🏻 remember: this is a formal occasion, so make sure to dress your best 🫣 i'm very excited to see what y'all come up with!!!

[luveline]

this is quite vague, sorry, but would you please write more for coworker James? maybe him and r are sneaking around to kiss or they go out or Sirius and Remus find out. Idk whatever you feel like!!

you and James at the end of a secret date | ty for requesting! fem

You kissed James because you had to. You’ve never felt that pull before, but he’d been sitting there on the step next to you, close enough to see the freckles on his nose and count them, and— well, it’s hard to explain. But you kissed him. 

So far, it’s working in your favour. 

“It’s fine,” James says, breathless where he’s kissing your neck. 

“No, I think I broke it,” you say, squirming away from him to see the lamp where it’s fallen. “Shit.”

James had been kissing you on his sofa and your arm had a mind of its own, moving backward, whacking the body of the lamp where it had been living innocently on the side table. Now it’s in five separate pieces on the floor, but James doesn’t care. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. 

“I’m not.”

You laugh, a little lost in the way he’s touching you. James isn’t being too much, despite your legs spread around his hips to let him kiss you and the slip of your stomach that’s exposed itself. He’s kissing you hard, yes, but he isn’t grabbing anything too sensitive. He isn’t initiating, just kissing. 

“No, ‘cos– ‘cos I’ve broken it, I have, I’ll have to buy you another one. It’s from IKEA, right? It’s–”

“It’s from IKEA,” James affirms, lifting his face from your neck to meet your eyes. His lips are pink from kissing, the tip of his nose ruddied. “I can get another one any hour of the day. Can you stop worrying?” 

“No.” 

James laughs and holds your cheek. “No, I guess you can’t. And I was getting ahead of myself, wasn’t I?” He turns his hand, stroking your under eye with a careful fingernail. “It’s getting late. I should drive you home.” 

You’re crestfallen, then. “Is it?” 

He checks his watch. “S’almost eleven.” 

You have work tomorrow. You’ll have to wake at 6AM. But you don’t want to leave, don’t want James to get off of you, don’t want to go back to the office where you’re still pretending to hate him. 

Not very well, mind you, but pretending all the same. 

You’re distracted from your melancholy by the marvel of him above you. His hair seems darker than ever today, black and shiny and nice to touch, a tad mussed from your hands. You smooth down each wanton curl and get a good look at his eyes. His lashes… it leaves you breathless again, how long they are, how beautiful he seems. 

You’re dating, sort of. Not together. You can’t stay the night, you haven’t fucked, and he doesn’t seem to want to yet. It’s still early days.

You aren’t sure if you’d let him fuck you here, but he hasn’t tried. You’d thought the neck kissing was a precursor, felt heat blooming in your chest and somewhere lower as he held your nape. You can imagine it easily from this position, blood rushing to warm your chest, a tizzied kiss of it to match James’ blush. He’d touch you, and you’d let him. He’d push your shirt the rest of the way up and see you clearly. 

“James…” you say softly. 

“What?” 

“Can I ask you something?” 

He strokes your cheek. Your skin stretches gently under his touch, your eye squinting closed. “What sort of something?” he whispers. 

You wanna ask why he won’t fuck you. It would make sense —isn’t that what rivalry is, heated competition with poorly hidden sexual tension? Is that what you and James had?

“I’ve been thinking about something.”

“What sort of something?” he repeats with a laugh. 

“I don’t want to say it out loud.” 

James lets your head rest against the armrest and pillow smushed behind the top of it. He leans down to kiss you, a pulling thing you can’t help following. “Then don’t say it,” he murmurs, his nose dragging up your cheek as your lips part lazily. “Maybe I can guess.” 

“I don’t think you’ll be able to.” 

“You never have any faith in me.” 

You have much more in him as of late. James has yet to let you down. You kissed him and it’s like he refuses to be cruel about it, never letting you worry, eager in his reciprocation. Things are still confusing between you because you’re avoiding a conversation you’re too afraid to start, lest he want something casual. Instead, you’ve let him drag you deeper into his caging. It will hurt twice as much to ask now. 

“It’s stupid,” you say. “Never mind.” 

“It’s not stupid.” 

“No, it was.” You scratch his scalp as you know he adores. “It’s eleven. You can kiss me for at least another half an hour.” 

If he hears the hopefulness in your voice he ignores it. “Are you sure? I don’t wanna keep you up.” 

“Well, only if you want to.” 

“I always want to kiss you, you vexing woman,” he murmurs, shivers lining your arms and spine as his lips part against your cheek. He kisses downwards, sloven, half moon kisses, lightest scratch of his teeth on your neck. “Is it too immature if I leave a mark?” he asks. 

Immature? You have no idea. “I don’t mind what you do, just not above the collar, please.” 

You grow still as he tugs at the neckline of your shirt to expose your chest. It isn’t what you meant, and you’re not about to correct him. 

“Tell me if I…” He looks up at you, smiling nicely. “Just tell me if I take it too far,” he says. “Okay?” 

He plants a kiss over your heart. You hate thinking that he can feel it, hammering, betraying your deep feelings. “Okay,” you breathe.

[lecsainz]

May I request a Luke Castellan x reader who happens to be Annabeth’s older sister? They like each other, but they pretend they don’t. Thank you!

˒ ⌕ I THINK YOU’LL LIKE

parings: luke castellan x chase!reader

summary: that one where you're annabeth's older sister, and you and luke like each other but don't admit it.

an: YAY, I'M SO EXCITED FOR TODAY'S EPISODE! I think I might have lost my way in the writing 🤦🏼‍♀️. and if there are any grammar mistakes, forgive me 🙃

( last work || go to main masterlist )

You had woken up early that morning, expecting it to be like any other—getting up, getting ready, and heading to the arena to train the younger campers. You enjoyed the routine, especially passing by Hermes' cabin to catch a glimpse of Luke interacting so amiably with his half-siblings, causing your heart to skip a beat.

Determined to head to the training area, you were interrupted by a younger camper who needed help tying the laces of their worn-out sneakers.

"I thought you had this down, Claire," you said to the daughter of Hermes while expertly looping the shoelaces.

"I couldn't figure out what you did at the end," she murmured, glancing around as if expecting someone.

You eyed the younger girl suspiciously and proceeded to show her how to tie the knot. "Well, you just need to—"

"Hey, Y/N." Luke cut in as he jogged towards you.

Standing up, you turned to face Luke and saw him handing out sweets to Claire.

"I can't believe you just did that," you accused, pointing a finger at him.

"I didn't set anything up." He raised his hands, laughing as if surrendering. "I like your braid." Luke approached, tucking away a loose strand of your hair. "Suits you."

Feeling your cheeks warm, you stepped back from the brunette and crossed your arms.

"What do you want, Luke?" You asked curiously, starting to walk as you noticed some kids from your cabin heading in the direction you were supposed to be going.

Luke matched your pace. "Can't a dear friend want to see you?" He asked, and you felt one of your hands brushing against his as you walked side by side. "Actually, I-I..." He was interrupted by Annabeth calling out to you.

You both stopped, and Luke stepped back, scratching his neck as if embarrassed.

"Luke! Y/N!" You watched your sister come towards you. "Come on, Y/N, I've got a new tactic I want you to try with the bow," Annabeth said excitedly, pulling you towards the arena.

"Go on, then!" Luke waved to you. "Mind not hitting any campers with your bow, Y/N/N." He teased.

"You're an idiot, Castellan," you teased back, running off with Annabeth while hearing Luke's laughter.

The journey to the arena was short, but Annabeth wouldn't stop discussing the idea she had for the next capture the flag.

"He likes you," Annabeth halted before the arena entrance and stared at you.

You stopped and laughed at her. "He doesn't."

"He does," she insisted. "And you like him too." She slung her arm around your shoulder, amused because you and Luke were obvious to everyone at camp except yourselves.

"He's just a friend, Annie," you said as you both entered the arena.

The morning passed swiftly, not because you dwelled on what Annabeth had told you earlier or because Luke wanted to talk to you earlier. Soon enough, you found yourself alone in the arena, searching for your broken bow and arrows, supposed to be where you always left them but nowhere to be found today. Determined to fix it, you murmured, "I'm sure I left it here," while scanning through various other campers' bows.

"You left it here," Luke appeared behind you.

"Gods!" You startled, placing a hand on your chest and turned to him, annoyed.

"I didn't know I was that ugly to startle you," Luke said, leaning against a table nearby.

"You're not ugly, Luke," you mumbled softly, looking at him. "Wait what do you have behind you?" You asked, approaching him.

"Nothing," he murmured, turning so you couldn't see what he was hiding.

"Let me see, Luke," you stepped closer, trying to grab whatever he was holding.

Luke stepped back, and you stepped forward, causing both of you to collide and end up almost face to face, except for the height difference.

"I really want to kiss you right now," Luke spoke softly, and you wondered if you heard that correctly.

Summoning courage, you looked at him and locked eyes with his mouth. Luke released what he was holding, brushing a hand on your waist, pulling you closer. He looked at you, waiting for some sign of confirmation, and you stood on tiptoes and kissed him. Luke's hand cupping your cheek as he leaned in. Time seemed to stop as your lips met in a gentle yet fervent kiss, a mix of warmth and electricity passing between you.

When you pulled away, a gentle smile graced Luke's lips, and you were sure you were blushing. You rested your head on his chest, and he placed a kiss on your head. "I have something for you," Luke suddenly spoke and moved away to where he had hidden something. "That's why I wanted to talk to you earlier, but Annie showed up, and..."

"So, you used Claire to delay me?!" You accused, laughing, then stopped when you realized what he was holding.

"Don't blame me; I wanted to surprise you." Luke explained, and you couldn't help but find it endearing that he sought help to surprise you. "I saw it broken yesterday." He extended your bow towards you. "I tried fixing it myself, but I don't have the skills of a Hephaestus kid," he chuckled nervously. "I think you’ll like."

You took your bow from him, amazed at Luke's gesture. "It's perfect, Luke," you ran your hand over the drawings - more like scribbles - that weren't there before. "I love it." Surprising him, you hugged him, and Luke let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Thank you, truly."

Luke hugged you back, his arms enfolding you with a mixture of surprise and contentment. "Anytime, Y/N." he murmured, his voice soft.

You pulled away, holding the repaired bow with a newfound appreciation. "I can't believe you did this," you said, a smile lighting up your face. "You're more talented than you think, Luke."

He scratched the back of his head, a bashful grin spreading across his features. "Well, I had some inspiration." Luke's eyes met yours, holding a warmth that sent a rush of comfort through you.

"Thank you, Luke," you repeated, feeling genuinely grateful. "I owe you one."

He chuckled softly. "How about you owe me a rematch at capture the flag?"

You laughed, nodding in agreement. "You're on, Castellan."

[lvnleah]

falling for you | leah williamson

not my most favourite fic i’ve wrote but it’ll do :)

Leah prided herself on being confident on the pitch, in the dressing room, and in front of a crowd. But when it came to you? That confidence completely disappeared.

You had been at Arsenal for a few months now, seamlessly fitting into the squad, your easy-going nature making you popular among the team. You weren’t the loudest but you weren’t the quietest either and people seemed to gravitate towards your calm personality. Leah was no exception.

She was absolutely, completely, and embarrassingly smitten with you.

Leah started falling for you in the quiet moments, the ones that felt small but meant everything to her.

Like the way you carried an extra water bottle during training, always handing it to her first before taking a sip yourself. The way you’d nudge her arm during team meetings when she looked a little too serious, offering her a soft smile that melted her heart. The way you’d instinctively reach out to fix the strap of her shin pad or tug her jumper down when it rode up like it was second nature to you.

She told herself it was normal. That you did this for everyone.

Then she noticed you didn’t.

She caught the way the team exchanged knowing looks whenever you pulled her into a side hug after a tough training session or when you casually handed her a protein bar before she could even ask for one. The way they whispered when you absentmindedly tied the drawstring on her hoodie because she was too distracted to do it herself.

“You’re a lost cause, Le,” Katie had said one evening in the locker room, watching as you ruffled Leah’s hair after a scrimmage.

“She has no idea, does she?” Beth grinned, standing next to Steph as they both watched you. 

“Nope,” Steph sighed, “None at all.”

Of course, you didn’t. You were completely oblivious. You thought Leah was like this with everyone. It wasn’t until one afternoon at the training ground that you realized something was… off.

You had been stretching after a session, sitting beside Leah as she talked to Lotte and Kyra. Instinctively, you reached out and massaged the back of her calf where you knew she often got cramps, kneading the muscle with practised ease. Leah, mid-sentence, completely forgot her words. 

She made a strangled sound, somewhere between a cough and a gasp, and her whole face turned red. Lotte raised an eyebrow. Kyra smirked.

“What?” you asked, blinking at them after you were done and Leah had gotten up and walked away. 

Lotte leaned in. “Mate, do you really not see it?”

“See what?”

Kyra laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, this is fun. You don’t realise Leah’s totally head over heels for you, do you?”

After that, you started to notice things.

Leah was awkward around you, her face turning red whenever you complimented her. The way she always gravitated toward you in team huddles. How she blushed whenever you stood too close. How her eyes lingered on you a little too long when she thought you weren’t looking.

You had assumed it was just Leah being Leah. But now? Now you realise she had a crush on you.

And that? That was something you could have fun with.

You started subtly teasing her, just to see how far you could push her.

You’d lean in a little too close when she was tying her laces, pretending to inspect them. “Need help, love?” you murmured one day. Leah, wide-eyed and flustered, shook her head so quickly she nearly toppled over.

During team dinners, you’d casually sling an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in. “Leah’s my favourite,” you’d say, just to see the way her cheeks burned.

You started calling her love more often, watching as her resolve crumbled bit by bit.

And when she finally cracked? It was after a match when you walked up behind her and adjusted her jersey for her, fingers lingering just a second too long. “There you go, love,” you said with a grin.

Leah turned to you, exasperated, her face flushed. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

You feigned innocence. “Doing what?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I know you know.”

You grinned. “Took you long enough.”

She groaned, running a hand through her hair. “God, I hate you.”

You chuckled, nudging her playfully. “No, you don’t.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “No. I really don’t.”

Leah finally asked you out on a crisp autumn evening. You were both leaving the training ground, the sun setting behind the horizon.

“Hey,” she called out, jogging up beside you.

You turned, smiling. “What’s up?”

She hesitated, biting her lip. “You wanna get dinner? Just us?”

You tilted your head. “Like a date?”

Leah nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah...like a date.”

You grinned. “Took you long enough.”

Her relief was palpable. “So, that’s a yes?”

“That’s a definite yes, love.”

Leah let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her shoulders relaxing as a grin broke out across her face. “Good, cool,” she said, “Tomorrow night?”

You hummed, pretending to think. “Hmm, I’ll have to check my very busy schedule of watching Netflix in my pyjamas… but yeah, I think I can squeeze you in.”

Leah rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide the way the corners of her lips twitched. “You’re a tease.”

You smirked. “And yet, you’re the one asking me out.”

The next day dragged on.

Leah tried to focus during training, but her mind kept drifting to you, to your teasing smirks, to the fact that in just a few hours, she’d be taking you on a date. A real, proper date.

“You good, mate?” Lotte asked as they walked off the pitch together. “You’ve been a bit off today.”

Leah nodded, “Yeah, just… I’ve got plans tonight.”

Lotte’s eyebrows shot up. “Plans?” A slow grin spread across her face. “With her?”

Leah groaned. “Please don’t start.”

Lotte slung an arm around her shoulders, shaking her slightly. “Oh, I’m definitely starting. The great Leah Williamson, finally making a move. I never thought I’d see the day.”

Leah rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at her lips.

After training, she rushed home, spending far too long staring at her wardrobe before finally settling on a simple outfit, casual but nice. She checked her phone for the tenth time, reading over your last message.

You: Don’t be nervous, love. Just dinner. With me. Your favourite person.

Leah shook her head, biting her lip to keep from smiling too much. She grabbed her keys and headed out before she could overthink it any more.

When she arrived at the restaurant, you were already there, sitting at a corner table with a relaxed smile. The sight of you, so effortlessly beautiful, made her stomach flip.

“You clean up nice,” you teased as she sat down.

Leah rolled her eyes but felt her face heat up. “You’re the worst.”

You grinned. “And yet, you’re still here.”

She sighed dramatically. “I know. Tragic, really.”

The conversation flowed easily, just like it always did. You talked about everything and nothing, laughing between bites of food, the tension from the past few weeks melting away. Leah was so caught up in you that she barely noticed time passing.

Then, as the night wound down, you leaned in slightly, your voice softer. “You know, I wasn’t completely teasing when I said you were my favourite.”

Leah’s breath caught.

Your fingers brushed against hers on the table, deliberate this time, lingering. Leah stared at them for a second before finally, finally turning your hand over and lacing her fingers with yours.

Your smile widened. “Took you long enough.”

Leah laughed, shaking her head. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

“Not a chance, love.”

Thing because official two weeks later, though if you asked Leah, she would’ve told you it should have happened much sooner.

The two of you had gone on a handful of dates from dinners, to late-night walks, to movie nights where neither of you paid attention to the film because you were too busy teasing each other. But despite the easy flow of whatever this was, Leah still hadn’t officially asked you to be her girlfriend.

And it was driving the team insane.

“You’re telling me,” Kyra groaned one afternoon in the locker room, “that you’ve been on, what, five dates? And you’re still not together?”

Leah scowled, tying her laces. “I don’t see you in a relationship, Kyra.”

“That’s ‘cause I know when to pull the trigger,” Kyra shot back. “Jesus, just ask her.”

Beth, standing nearby, smirked. “You could just wait. I give it a week before she does it herself.”

Leah wanted to argue, but deep down, she knew they were right. So, that night, she decided she wasn’t waiting any longer.

You were at her place, curled up next to her on the couch, flicking through Netflix options without really choosing anything. It was comfortable and natural. Leah’s arm draped over your shoulders, your fingers tracing absentminded patterns on her knee.

She was content, but there was still a weight on her chest, something unfinished.

So, before she could overthink it, she cleared her throat. “Hey.”

You turned your head slightly, raising an eyebrow. “Hey.”

Leah shifted, suddenly nervous. “So, um… you know how we’ve been, uh, going out? A lot?”

Your lips quirked. “I do recall that, yeah.”

She exhaled. “Right. And we kinda already act like we’re together, but we haven’t actually like said it?”

You bit back a smile. “Are you asking me something, Williamson?”

Leah groaned, letting her head fall back against the couch. “Why are you like this?”

You laughed, reaching up to tug her hoodie over her head slightly. “Because you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

She grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand down but not letting go. “I’m serious,” she said, softer now.

The teasing in your expression faded, replaced with something warm. “I know,” you murmured.

Leah swallowed. “I like you. A lot. And I want to call you my girlfriend, if that’s something you’d be into.”

You didn’t hesitate. “I’d be very into that.”

Relief flooded through Leah so fast she barely had time to react before you were pulling her in, your lips brushing against hers in a kiss that was so right she couldn’t believe she hadn’t done it sooner.

When you finally pulled back, you grinned. “Took you long enough.”

Leah groaned, burying her face in your shoulder. “I hate you.”

You chuckled, running a hand through her hair. “No, you don’t.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “No. I really don’t.”

Dating Leah was easy. It felt natural, like something that had been meant to happen all along.

She adored you, though she tried (and failed) to play it cool. You caught her staring at you constantly, whether you were tying your boots, laughing with the team, or simply existing in her space.

Cuddles became a daily occurrence. Leah would pull you onto the couch after training, tucking herself against your side, her arms wrapped around your waist.

Kisses were soft and slow, stolen between training sessions, before matches, and during cosy evenings at your flat. Leah’s favourite was when you kissed her forehead, her arms wrapped around your waist as she melted into you.

You teased her often, but she gave it back just as much.

One night, as you lay in bed, she rolled onto her side, watching you. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

You smirked, pulling her closer. “And yet, you love me.”

She huffed. “Unfortunately.”

You pressed a kiss to her temple. “Lucky me, then.”

Leah smiled, tightening her hold on you. “Yeah. Lucky you.”

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

It’s My Job

Summary: The reader’s having a rough night but the stranger at the bar decides to offer some assistance when she has nowhere to go...

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,200ish

Warnings: language, tiny bit of violence

A/N: Enjoy!

______________

Someday you’d have to thank that boy in seventh grade that taught you how to throw a punch. 

Don’t put your thumb inside your fist unless you want to break it. Do a small twist of your wrist right before impact to deliver more momentum. Throw your body weight behind it to make it hurt more. That’s what you got for being lab partners with the class bad boy but at least you had a chance because of him. 

He neglected to tell you your knuckles would ache, your skin would scrape open and bleed, or even that the adrenaline would make you so jumpy you’d nearly trip on your own feet when you sprinted the hell out of there.

It was eleven at night, your feet taking you to the nearest open door, a bar from the looks of it. You took a deep breath when you got inside, nearly groaning when you saw how dead it was.

“We’re closing up. Tuesday is an early night,” said the bartender, the lone man at the bar swigging down the last of his drink, slapping a few bills down and spinning in his seat to stand.

“No, you don’t under-”

“Out,” said the bartender, your head shaking. “Or I call the cops. I’ve had enough shit for one night.”

“No, I need the cops, I-”

“Out,” said the bartender, shooing you out after the man, the door closing up tight behind.

“No, I...” you said, turning your head to catch sight of the man from the alley hanging out by a wall about three stores down.

“Hey,” said the man nearby, scratching his head, the expression not matching his sour face. “Can you pretend to give me directions while you tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“What?” you said, glancing behind him, the guy’s face in a snarl.

“Don’t look at him,” said the man, making shoulder shrugs like he was confused. “You said you need cops and your hand is messed up so I’m guessing douchebag down there did something?”

“W-Was walking and he grabbed me but I hit him and ran...” you said, remembering what he said, fake pointing to an area behind him, wearing a forced smile.

“I see. There’s a black muscle car just up the street behind you. You walk that way and I’ll deal with the asshole back there,” said the man, a dark smile on his face. 

“But-”

“Trust me, kind of my job, sweetheart,” he said, pretending to make a thank you expression, spinning around and walking down the street. You tried to do what he said, not taking too many steps before you heard a thump on the ground, your head turning to find the man shaking out his hand over the out cold alley guy. “He went down like a lightweight. A little proper training and you probably would have gotten him out yourself.”

“Y-Yeah,” you said, the guy pulling his belt from the loops, tying it around the alley guy’s wrists.

“That’ll keep him until the cops show,” said the man, pulling out his phone, giving it a few presses. “Hey Derek...Yeah, it’s Dean. You on duty tonight? Got a pervy assclown down near Chuck’s that could use with an ambulance and an assault charge...he went after some chick in the alley nearby. She got away, bumped into me...yeah, I’ll be sure to tell her what a lucky night she’s having...see you in a few buddy,” he said hanging up the phone. “Cops will be here soon.”

“Thanks...Dean,” you said, the man chuckling.

“You’re very welcome whoever you are,” he said with a smile, squinting his eyes. “You seem super familiar, like extremely familiar. We didn’t go to the same school or something, did we?”

“I’m...I’m in a movie that just came out,” you said, glancing down. “I didn’t realize...”

“Ah, I’ve seen that trailer a thousand times. They won’t stop playing it,” he said, glancing back at the alley guy. “Scumbag like him probably doesn’t give a shit if you’re famous or not. You might want to think about some protection though...maybe a self-defense class at the very least.”

“Maybe...maybe I’ll do that,” you said, nodding your head. “Thank you.”

“I don’t wanna,” you groaned a few weeks later, sitting in a conference room at a protection agency, your manager rolling her eyes at you.

“Okay, your knight in shining armor had a point, Y/N. We were headed down this road anyways,” she said.

“But I took the class. I can kick someone’s ass now,” you said, earning a small laugh from her. “You did too! Anybody messes with us, we got this.”

“Alright Rambo,” she said with a giggle. “Maybe you don’t need one all the time but for events and stuff. Besides, maybe you’ll find a cute bodyguard? Find the Costner to your Houston.”

“I ain’t no damsel,” you said, crossing your arms as the door opened.

“Oh, well that’ll make my job...” said the man in a suit, blinking his eyes at you. 

“Dean?” you said, standing up. “What are...”

“I’m a bodyguard,” he said. “When I said to get some protection, I didn’t think you’d actually take me up on that let alone pick my agency.”

“He’s cuter than you said he was,” said your manager, giving Dean a little wave.

“Sara,” you growled, Dean smirking down at you.

“Would you like to start the interview, Ms. Y/L/N?” asked Dean, nodding to the chairs.

“This may seem entirely unprofessional but why were you drinking at a bar by yourself late at night?” you asked, Dean raising an eyebrow.

“I was supposed to go on a blind date that night but got stood up. I was somewhat pissed off so I had a drink or two,” he said. “You should give her a call and thank her.”

“You think I didn’t have the situation handled myself?” you asked, Dean shrugging his shoulders.

“Maybe, maybe not. I took the guess work out of it for you though. That’s my job. You don’t have to wonder if I’ll kick the guy’s ass. You know I will,” he said.

“You’re kinda cocky,” you said.

“You’re kinda stubborn,” he said.

“You’re hired,” you said.

“Already knew I was,” he said, looking you up and down. “My manager will provide you both with a full work history on myself as well as work with Ms. Saxley over there to determine your needs more specifically.”

“That’s it?” you asked, Dean smiling but all business.

“No, you and I are just getting started. Let’s get a coffee down the street and see how well you can follow a few rules to start with.”

_____________

[myokk]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MADDDYYYYYY!!!! i finally got around to drawing eloise PROPERLY this time (with her big poofy braid) tho im annoyed i didnt finish this in time so.... JUST PRETEND ITS STILL YOUR BIRTHDAY (where i am it IS still the 31st so....still counts🤪) but I HOPE U AND DAVID HAD A GREAT DAY esp after all the stress of your move!! im so glad u joined this fandom and we started talking and became friends, bc u just get me and always match my energy💅LMAO and u also inspired me to start being more social as well!! like if it wasnt for u i probs wouldnt have reached out and started talking to dani either and a lot of other ppl in this fandom, so TY FOR BEING BOTH AN ART INSPIRATION AND A PERSON INSPIRATION AS WELL!! UR THE BEST!!💖💖💖

WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH CHOCCY🥹🥹🥹🫂🫂🫂♥️♥️♥️🫂🫂🫂♥️🫂🫂🫶🥹🥹🫂🫂🫶🫂🫂🥹😍♥️🥹🫂🫶🥹♥️♥️🥹🫂🫂🥹🥹🥹🥹♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

ALDKKCJSHCISOEOCUSBSNE YOU ARE SO SWEET THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH😭♥️😭♥️😭♥️ ELOISE LOOKS *PERFECT* HERE AND YOU GOT HER POOFY BRAID DOWN AMAZINGLY &CAPTURED HER GENERAL SWEETHEART ANGEL VIBES PERFECTLY🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

I’m ALSO so happy I had no chill and then started messaging you to apologize for having no chill and then the two yapping queens (us) united👯‍♀️ I still think it’s crazy to send like 200+ messages a day (when I’m not in the middle of moving😒 or you either tbh😆) CONSISTENTLY FOR SO LONG BUT ♥️♥️♥️ I’ll forever be grateful for this fandom for bringing you into my life😍😍♥️♥️♥️

LOVE YOU SO MUCH !!!!!! ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ & THANK YOU AGAIN !!!!!!!!!! 🥹♥️🥹♥️🥹♥️🥹♥️🥹♥️🥹♥️🥹♥️