#quiet boys doin quiet boy things that’s it that’s the whole thing

[sen-ya]

for ur consideration

[ratatatastic]

me thinking itd be fine to put on an ekky interview in the bg as i deal with hot things that could burn me because im frying yes wonderful me good job me this is fantastic

[vicariousresearcher]

Neighbour!141 and how they get your attention.

Neighbour!Price who is constantly offering you help. Sees some furniture boxes at your door and is offering to put it together for you. No? Well surely you need some tools at least, make it all easier. No no he doesn’t mind truly. He doesn’t want you trying to fix everything up with just an allen key now does he?

Shovels your side walk, up to your door even. When you come to him the next day all apologetic and saying that you were just about to do it, seriously he didn’t need to. He just brushes you off saying that ‘birds don’t need to be out doin that.' It‘s okay, he was doing his anyway. 

Listening when you complain about your shitty landlord who has yet to do anything about your faulty water heater. You’re in those shorts he’s only seen through the window, arms crossed and rambling as he thumbs at the valves. 

“It’s a no go bird. You gotta buy a whole new heating element and get it put in dere. If you’re needin to, you can shower at my place till this gets figure’d out ya?”

Neighbour!Kyle who honestly you see more outside of your neighbourhood than in it. You have no clue how but you two always end up in the same place at the same time. 

Grocery shopping? Oh he's here too, it has the best deals on produce! Excursion? Oh he just wanted to see the new exhibit at the aquarium just like you, great minds think alike. Eating something in your favourite cafe during your lunch break? He slides in the seat across from you with a playful smile saying ‘how its nice to see you here neighbour’. 

You don’t even know he slipped a tracker in your purse during one of these bump ins.

That's how it starts. A friendship with a man you apparently have so much in common with. You have to with how much you see him at your favourite places. Even that niche little diner that you love as soon as you mention it he’s finishing off its name and talking about how their sweets are so good.

“What do you mean you haven’t had any? Want me to grab you some next time I go-actually no how about we just go together. I need to see what else you’ve been depriving yourself of. Come on, we’ll go in the evening when it’s nice and quiet so it’ll just be us.”

Neighbour!Johnny who sees the sweet thing living next door and knows he needs to get his hands on you. But he’s smarter than those pretty eyes and dumb grin would let you think. He wants you to come to him. He just needs to prove what a prize he is first. 

So he finds every chance possible to workout outside. 

Deliberately does his stretches for his morning run where you’ll be able to see while you make your coffee for the morning. Absolutely chuffed when he makes eye contact with you while he’s mid shirt pull. The way you go bug eyed when caught ogling has him ready wanting to ask if you liked the show.

Now, god forbid you have a dog. He’s making friends through the fence, coming up to your door offering to take the sweet thing on a walk if you want. Truly he would love to have a running buddy please let him take your pupper out. It becomes normal enough that you don’t even bat an eye when he’s offering to take your baby out when you’re not home. 

“I don’t mind taking my boy out once in a while. His mama’s busy but I’m not. Where’d you say you keep your outside key?”

Neighbour!Simon who quickly learns that he can’t offer to help you round because it comes off as….creepy. He’s the one you think is going to tag you with a tracker or follow you to work. The one that has you holding your keys between your fingers when pulling in at night.

So he takes a different approach. Needy, confused, and helpless. A military man entirely unacquainted with domestic duties.

He’s pathetic in a stuck racoon kind of way. You know you shouldn’t trust him but the way you’ve heard his smoke alarm go off 3 times in the time you’ve been here has you messaging if he wants some of your supper since you made too much. You catch yourself adding far more while cooking just so you have something to drop off to his doorstep. 

You don’t even know how it happened but now you’re in his kitchen teaching him how to make some easy meals with your chicken marinade recipes. Something he won’t burn or over salt. He’s got you rambling away, so blissfully unaware. Safe in his home, so trusting of him now.. He’s made so much improvements with you, no more scurrying away the minute he’s a couple feet away. 

“‘m sorry for needin so much from ya. If there's anything I can do just message me ya? Don’t matter what time, I’ll come. Anything you need.”

[nervoushottee]

night shift | daryl dixon x fem!reader

Summary: [2k] You keep Daryl company on a night watch

Warnings: Set in Prison era of TWD (around season 3-4)

Note: back with more of our soft shy boy daryl. Thank you so much for all the beautiful reboots and likes and hello to the followers from my previous Daryl fic.

Hope you enjoy, mwah!

His side of the bed was cold.

Which wasn’t something unusual if he had a watch shift or had to take a piss. But you knew his shift was tomorrow night and if he had to go relieve himself he would’ve told you. Would have whispered it out in the darkness of the night with a small squeeze on your ankle. A physical tether and promise that he would come back.

But you didn’t hear any whispers nor feel a warm calloused hand squeeze your leg.

So you rub the sleep from your eyes, lift the blanket away from your body and go and look for him. Shoving your feet in the boots near the bed, you brush the curtain away and walk down through the quiet prison.

You see a few flashlights and torches on. One of them you already know to be Carl sneaking in a few more chapters of his comics before bed. A smile forming on your lips at the thought as you walk out into the common area. Metal tables that are usually filled with people are now empty and cold to the touch.

You pass by Karen who was coming from the bathroom/showers and ask if she’d seen Daryl. She shook her head with a yawn. You place your hand on her shoulder as a thank you, telling her to get some sleep.

The moon is shining bright and full when you open the door to the courtyard. You feel the cold seep through your long sleeve shirt. Hershel’s words come back to mind, that it felt like winter might come sooner than normal. The council has been doing extra inventory over the food, ammo and medicine just in case.

Crickets and the faint growls of walkers fill your ears. You look left and right and still no sign of Daryl. Finally you decide as your last resort and honestly too tired to walk about the whole prison to look for the man, you whistle. It’s a soft, short and low whistle. A bit quieter than you would normally do. Your throat a little dry from sleep but you knew if Daryl was out here, he’d hear the noise all the same.

A small smile grows on your face when you hear the faint whistle back from your left.

You turn and look up to see a tall figure standing in one of the cell towers. His body turned to you. You can't see his face but you know Daryl’s staring at you.

The walk up the top of the tower is short. You knock three times and two more times with a pause in between and Daryl doesn’t hesitate to open the hatch for you.

“What you doin’ up?”, you don’t respond as he extends his hand out to help you up.

“Should be sleepin’. ” he mutters as he locks up the hatch.

Your eyes roll. “Could say the same thing to you, mister.”

“Supposed to be Carol’s watch but the girls weren’ havin’ it. Said she’d take mine tomorrow.” You hum in understanding and walk over to the railing where he stands to watch over the prison. You could see everything from up here. The walkers around the gates, the pigs and chickens in their coops, the garden and everything else in between.

The chill of the wind goes through you, causing you to shiver. You feel Daryl slide the hand that’s not holding his crossbow around your waist and guide you closer to him. You put your hands inside his open jacket. Wrapping your arms around his waist to get as much warmth from his body heat as possible.

Daryl grumbles and you feel him shake his head against the top of yours. You look up at him in question. “Don’t even got somethn’ warm on. Could get sick.” You roll your eyes a second time that night.

“How was I supposed to know you were outside doing Carol’s shift if you didn’t tell me?” Daryl grunts a response back. A “he knows you’re right but won’t say it” grunt which pulls a teasing smile from your mouth.

“Oh. That reminds me.”, You unclasp your hands from his waist and reach for your butt pocket and pull out a smushed granola bar. “Here.”,you hand it out to him.

Daryl shakes his head. “ ‘S yours.”

He wasn’t wrong. With the amount of food the prison has now and how frequent all of you were able to get into a somewhat normal routine of eating. It brought back the hangriness you would once feel before the dead started walking. Something you didn’t really enjoy but happens nonetheless. Since then, you always kept little small snacks on you. Whether it's leftover bread from lunch or an apple Daryl’s snuck in your jacket or anything small you could get your hands on. Nothing too big that would put a dent into the rations though.

This time you kept a flattened granola bar you had found during one of the group runs. You found two and gave one to Carl who thanked you profusely. Remembering the Chewy brand of peanut butter chocolate chip granola bar he would eat when he was young. It was a bit stale and the chocolate and peanut butter chips were hard but it was tolerable. And food was still food.

“I know but I’m giving it to you.”

You know Daryl will protest. Your eyes meet his and have a silent conversation with one another. You’re not gonna back down, persistent as ever for him to take it. You can see it in his eyes that he wants you to keep it for later but you look right back at him. Even adding a squint for emphasis.

Daryl didn’t eat enough as it is. He usually was fine with scraps of anything he can get his hands on. Could last a long time on just that but most times you weren’t having it. If the prison had the supply then you were going to make sure he had a bit more than he lets himself have. You know it all trickles down to him feeling as if others need it more than him.

You tap the granola packet against his chest. Raising an eyebrow up at him, your chin on his chest. You can see a small faint smile grow on his lips. His eyes gleaming with adoration yet looks at you stoic and still. Finally, he relents with a deep sigh. Putting his crossbow down on the floor. It's awkward with how left hand is still loosely against your waist. You bend along with him as an attempt to help. Daryl turns back to you, his hand extended as he takes the granola bar from your awaiting hand.

You let go of him so he can open the wrapper and eat. Instantly feeling the difference of the loss of his warmth. He breaks a piece of. The smushed granola breaks off like bark and you snort at the sound. Daryl hands the first piece to you. His eyes tell you not to press him and for the third time that night, you roll your eyes. Taking the granola from his calloused hands.

The two of you eat quietly. You look around the prison, squint at the chickens and pigs sleeping. Fumbling with the last bit of granola, you can’t help but laugh quietly at its flatten appeal.

“Was’ funny?” Daryl questions.

You turn your head to see him already staring at you. You hand the last bit of granola to him and he eats it without hesitation. You knew he was hungry. “Have you ever had a Rice Krispy Treat?”

Daryl shakes his head, “The hell is that?”

You smile as you wipe the granola crumbs from your hands. “It’s this bar of marshmallow and rice puff cereal. They melt marshmallows down to a goo and pour the rice cereal and form them into little bars.” You explain to him. Daryl watches your hands as you use them to demonstrate as you talk.

He shakes his head again, “Never heard of ‘em.”

You hum, turning your back away from the look out. “I used to love them as a kid. They were sweet and chewy and we’d get them as a snack at school. My mom was a health nut and it was too many calories, too much sugar and all the too much that kids don’t really give a shit about.” You feel the rumble of Daryl’s laugh which makes you smile in return.

He pats his hands against his jacket pockets and pulls out his box of miscellaneous cigarettes. You remember taking a peek in them one night and seeing some that looked different than others. Daryl had told you he didn’t feel like carrying multiple boxes. So when he finds more cigarettes lying around he just adds them to his pack.

“I was laughing because I remember as a kid. My friends and I would deliberately smush the rice krispy treat.”Daryl’s eyebrows furrow as he lights his half smoked cigarette. Confused as all get go but still listens to you nonetheless.

“We’d put them on the floor and step on them really hard until we heard the wrapper pop and we’d just eat them flat like that.”

“Why?”

“Because for some reason we thought they tasted better that way. Sweeter.” You say with a smile as you remember the tasty treat and young smiles. “Man, I can’t even remember the last time I had one of those. Way before all this. Maybe when I was a teen or somethin’.”

Daryl extends the cigarette out to you in question. You hesitate before taking it. You don’t smoke often, sometimes the taste annoys you and sometimes it doesn’t. Daryl knows you don’t smoke enough for him to give you your own cigarette so he always just shares the one he smokes with you.

“These things don’ taste sweeter smushed.” He tells you with his head gesturing to the forgotten wrapper. You laugh and hit his shoulder playfully as you take a hit or two of the cig before handing back to him with a grimace. You wrap both hands around his arm closest to you, sliding one of your hands to connect with his and loosely play with his fingers.

“Yea well. Those rice treats sure tasted better smushed from what I remember.” You tell him as you place your head on his shoulder.

He doesn’t say anything, simply hums and the conversation slides into a comfortable silence. You hear the crickets again. The sound of Daryl’s cigarette burning. The small sounds of metal creaking from the prison. When it’s quiet like this, you forget that the world is dead. That you’re just out looking at the stars and the moon. With the cool wind as your friend.

The feeling of your locked hand in Daryl’s bump against your leg and pulls you out of the daydream. You look up at him with questioning eyes. He gives your face a once over, making sure you’re not stuck in your head again before speaking.

“You should get some sleep.”

“You tryna get rid of me Daryl Dixon?”

“I’m tryin’ to get your ass back in bed where it’s warm.”

You were cold. The two hits of nicotine smoke do nothing to warm your chest. And if you weren’t so cold then you’d probably protest and stay with him a little while longer. Instead you sigh and nod a few times. Agreeing to Daryl that it’s cold and that you should sleep. With that you let go of his arm with a tight squeeze and Daryl opens the hatch for you to go back down.

“Wake me up when you get back.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You snort softly and kiss his cheek. you feel a very faint tap on your backside before heading down the cell tower and back over to the prison side door. The sound of a faint whistle greets your ears on your walk back to the prison. Stopping you in your tracks, you smile softly to yourself and whistle right back to him. A good night of sorts.

You curl back up into the sheets and think about cigarette smoke and rice krispie treats.

[kruegerspillow]

the look of love ; jayce talis

creators note: never really wrote for arcane so for my first time i gave my best shot! this'll be a series and ill try my best to write jayce :) bear with me guys

word count: 1.5k

warnings: none, though the reader is said to have brown hair & glasses, eventual smut, not proofread.

part one — part two — part three

Years of study, years of forcing your brain to absorb all the knowledge that had been spreaded out on the table in front of you.

That's what it takes for you to enter Piltover Academy. Complete agony and exhaustion behind that smile of yours. Though, it's worth it, right? Being accepted into the university you've longed for in the past years, hell, maybe even decades.

Hundreds of pearly whites were shown to you as you entered the building, the smell of different kinds of... rich fragrance hitting your nostrils. You held back every muscle in your face to not scrunch up in disgust. Your gaze shifted away from the people and onto the edifice. The building itself had greatly structured walls and ceilings. That's one thing to admire, at least. Statues were placed here and there, being the center of attention in the crowd forming around you, but that's not enough to shake off the annoyance building up on your shoulders.

A familiar, grand voice spoke up as the whole building abruptly went quiet. Your movements halted, taken aback by the sudden loss of commotion. More and more people gathered around the center of the room and, out of fear of missing out, you squeezed into the suffocating crowd. There stood the golden boy of Piltover on the stage.

“Good evening people of the future,” Jayce greeted, voice filled with warmth and determination. “Hope everyone's doin' alright.”

He cleared his throat, placing the papers on the podium as the crowd cheered loudly. You, too, clapped for him.

“Right,” he paused for a moment as the crowd's cheers died down. “It's been... a while, ever since the invention of Hextech. Since then, the glorious city of Piltover has been working its way to a brighter, easier future.”

A small bead of sweat slid down his forehead, “I was a nobody— my family used to create hammers that are probably used to make the stage I'm on. You see that?”

He pointed to the Hextech building that could be seen through the skylight of the University. The audience paused, taking their time as they listened to his speech. Your gaze shifted from him to the building, your heart thumping against your chest— for what? You don't know exactly.

“Hextech couldn't have done it without you all,” Jayce spoke. “And, I, as the Hextech inventor, will keep fighting for a brighter future. For our brighter future!”

And the crowd roared as he spoke his finishing line, a cheeky smile tugging onto the corner of his lips as he stepped down from the stage. People gathered around him, asking him all sorts of questions and begging him for his signature or a handshake. You, though, didn't move a single inch from your previous position; having just arrived into the university.

Jayce accepted the attention the crowd was giving him, answering the questions with ease, shaking their hands and writing down his signature on a piece of paper. Your brain seemed to stop working before you snapped out of your trance. You didn't have the desire to talk to him (yes, you do.) After all, he's a busy man with a busy career, what's he got for someone like you? You're fresh out of the oven, still clueless and would ramble away about some kind of nonsense that he wouldn't be interested in. So, you decided to play it safe and made your way through the horde to get to your room.

Jayce smiled awkwardly as more and more people began appearing, causing him to pause or trip over his own words; but he's good. He's good at hiding it all behind his facade. His gaze shifted before abruptly meeting your eyes, noticing the conflict in them. He'd never seen anyone so... ahem, unbothered. Your chocolate-colored eyes, gazing into nothingness while people surrounded him, crushing him with questions and pleas. The whole world seemed to stop spinning as he paused for a moment, taking his time to gaze over you before he was interrupted with another request.

What? Were you not interested in him? Was his speech too straightforward? Or was it too bland?

His thoughts scattered over one another as the amount of people began to gradually decrease, having their feeling of satisfaction after he'd answered every single one of their questions. Eventually, all the chattering from the people died down; and, soon, they're all dismissed.

But it was too late.

You were no longer in his sight and he was left with his own thoughts. Jayce was never good at pushing these doubts away. Making everyone pleased with even the slightest scent of his cologne was his goal, yet, your absence left him with a heavy heart. Fuck, he doesn't even know you... yet.

His eyes were glued onto the spot where you'd stood in the middle of the crowd, his gaze hazy and mind full of thoughts— but he knows better than to cry over spilled milk. He turned on his heels, adjusting his suit before hastily making his way back to the Hextech lab. His hands clenched into fists as he planned his next speech, wishing that you'd be at least slightly impressed by him. Getting to know you was his next step to getting rid of his little-to-no information about you. And, maybe, he'd ask Viktor... if he's even aware of the new visitor in the Piltover Academy.

“Viktor,” Jayce called out to his partner, his voice nearly echoing through the Hextech lab.

Viktor, who took his time turning around, glanced at him over his shoulder before shooting him a look of curiosity. Jayce seemed… conflicted. That made Viktor’s curiosity ignite. One of his eyebrows curled up, waiting for Jayce to continue his sentence. Jayce shut the door behind him, a look of uncertainty washing over his expressions.

“Jayce.” Viktor quipped, his voice low and steady.

Jayce cleared his throat, taking a seat on one of the chairs as he placed his leg over the table. He tried to look casual, he really did, though Viktor was observant enough to notice the beads of sweat sliding down his temple. The silence took over the conversation, creating this unbearable silence before Jayce eventually broke it.

“Quick question, ahem, my partner.” Jayce paused, “did you notice any new… visitors around the University of Piltover? Or, perhaps, around the Hextech building?”

Viktor gave him a look of indifference, clearly taken aback by the sudden question. Though, his gaze eventually fell onto the floor as he pondered the new faces he’d seen today. Quite a lot, Viktor thought to himself. Jayce had his fingers crossed, hoping for any information regarding you, peculiarly.

“New visitors…” Viktor repeated. “There were a lot of new visitors today. But if you have someone in mind— specifying them would help.”

Jayce cleared his throat, murmuring incoherent words as he leaned back against the chair. His brows furrowed, the memories of you seemingly disappearing one by one as soon as someone asks about them.

“Uh, no, well— well yes, actually.” Jayce stumbled over his words, his mind clouded by thoughts.

Viktor tilted his head to the side, finding Jayce's reply amusing to him. Curiosity piqued, and Jayce finally gathered himself.

“They wore glasses, uh… They have brown hair, not too long but not too short, y'know? And..." Jayce trailed off, trying to squeeze the memories out. "Yeah, that's all I remember.”

“Hm…”

“You've got any idea?”

“... No.”

Viktors reply caused Jayce's shoulders to sag. Jayce slumped back against his chair, his gaze falling onto the floor beneath him. Viktor furrowed his brows, taking a few steps closer to him.

“Why?” Viktor asked, curiosity evident in his voice. “Are you interested?”

“What? Pfft, no, nonsense.” Jayce replied, getting his leg off of the desk. “It's just… I don't know, they seemed so uninterested in my speech earlier.”

“Bruised your ego?”

“Hah! You wish,” Jayce retorted, his voice shifting to his usual playful one.

Viktor scoffed softly before turning his back towards Jayce, walking back to his original position as he glanced around the blueprints distributed onto the table. That caught Jayce's attention. He stood up from his chair, making his way to Viktor.

“Still looking at the blueprints?” Jayce murmured, “shouldn't you be sleeping, partner?”

The silence lingered for a moment, Jayce's question falling on deaf ears. Jayce furrowed his brows, his hand reaching up to touch Viktor's shoulder, though, instead, it hovered over him.

“Hey.” Jayce called out once more, causing Viktor to snap himself out of his thoughts.

Jayce's hand soon found Viktor's shoulder, giving him a light squeeze before taking a step front to stand right beside him. Jayce's brows furrowed, eyes filled with concern and care while Viktor stood there silently. Viktor's hand grabbed on the edge of the table, leaning forward onto the table. Soon enough, Viktor turned on his heels once more before walking towards the door.

“I should be sleeping.” Viktor spoke, his voice unfaltering.

Jayce watched silently, brows furrowed and his expression nearly pleading. Viktor took his cane and silently walked out the door.

“Goodbye.” He greeted Jayce as he left the room.

The door closed with a small click, and Jayce was left alone, once again. A small frown tugged into the corner of his lips, causing him to nearly pout. One of his hands made their way to his forehead, rubbing against his temple as he leaned back on the table. He had no reason to be so… worked up today. Did he?

kruegerspillow © 2024 ➵ do not feed my work into ai, repost or translate my work to post it around. Reblogs are much appreciated ୨ৎ

[novascharms]

no boys allowed! — rafe cameron

no boys allowed at the sorority house after 7 pm. of course, rafe sneaks into your window a couple of days a week.

content — fluff, smut, p in v  w.c — 2.7 masterlist

monday — 11:32 p.m.

being in a sorority was your favorite thing in the world. the sisterhood, the living arrangements, the benefits. it was everything you could wish for and more. you even loved your president and rush chair despite their sometimes strict-ish rules. it wasn't too bad; good grades, good behaviour, mandatory attendace at all chapter meetings, events, and rituals, dress a certain way, talk a certain way. blahblahblah. those were all things that had been ingrained in you long before you came to university but the no boys after seven o'clock rule? that one was a little tougher to swallow. a girl has needs.

you weren't sure how quiet you were being, you never could really focus when rafe had you like this, ass arched up, face roughly stuffed into your frilly off-white anthropologie pillow. you could vaguely hear the moans coming out of your drooling mouth but most, if not all of your focus was on rafe pounding his thick cock into your gummy walls, abusing your aching pussy, "quiet, baby..emily will rip me a new one if she hears us," rafe's voice barely broke through the sex haze you were in as you rutted into your sheets.

how could he ask you to be more quiet but fuck you even harder? "rafe..! mm, p-please.." you blubbered, tears in your eyes as his hands gripped your waist still and kept you from sinking into the bed from sheer lack of strength. he let out a low groan when you pushed back into him at every thrust, "that's it, that's my girl."

“oh god, oh god, rafey..!” you whimpered when rafe’s tip hit your cervix and slammed against it over and over driving you completely silly. he buried himself deep inside of you whilst holding your hips and relentlessly pounded into your sweet cunt. “doin’ so good, baby.” he grunted against your neck as your cunt sucked him in eagerly. “look at that pussy suckin’ me in..”

his hips drove against you, fucking into your hole and hitting that fuzzy spot that made you delirious every time. rafe had to shove your head into the pillow to muffle your whines that were only getting louder as he drilled into you.

just then, a quiet knock on your door. "hey, you okay in there?"

your eyes widened, panic taking over your body when you recognised the rush chair, aaliyah's voice. fuck, fuck, you were screwed. even more screwed considering rafe was still pounding your pussy relentlessly. "rafe.." you whispered with the hope that it would sound like a warning but it just sounded like the most pathetic, quiet whine.

"mm..mhm..y-yes!" you cried, your eyes fluttering from the pleasure and you arched your back even more, gripping your pillows for support.

"you sure, girl? you don't need a medic, right? because steffi was vomitting yesterday so we had a medic for that and i just don't want the board to think we're milking all their resources for—"

"yes!" you screamed out, the feeling of pure ectascy taking over your body and your vision went all white. you could hear rafe quietly groaning as he pumped his load into you only a second after you came.

"yes, you do need a medic?"

tuesday — 9:08 p.m.

it wasn't usually every day. the sneaking in. this week was just going to be a stressful one, for the both of you. you had a midterm in the morning, class from 8 to 6 on thursday and you had to squeeze a manicure inbetween one of those classes so you wouldn't even get to eat lunch with rafe (tragic), friday morning rafe was going away until saturday morning which you truly saw as a crime against you, saturday you had a mandatory sorority event that would take the whole day but atleast rafe was coming as your date and then sunday rafe had a frat thing where you could unfortunately not be his date because it was members only. so, basically, everyone hates you and the world is against you.

"rafe, i have to study..!" you gripped the edges of your desk and planted your feet to the ground as rafe tried to tug you away from your notes and laptop. "you've been studying all day, it's time for a break." he said firmly and his arms came around your waist, lifting you from your chair. you almost screamed but closed your mouth upon realising emily would come running and see rafe here two hours past curfew.

rafe threw you onto your bed in the least graceful way he could and you bounced into the pillows with a gasp. "it's clear you've never studied for a statistics exam. breaks don't exist in the land of statistics." you say and roll your eyes when he sits on your bed with this stupid smile on his face that made it impossible not to love him.

"i had statistics in my first year. pretty sure the prof had a thing for me." he laid his head down on princess peach's head. not her actual head. a plushie of her head which he was crushing with his even more massive head. "mm." you hummed and gave him a nasty once-over. he laughed so hard you had to smash the nearest pillow on his face with wide eyes. "rafe, quiet!" you hissed, with your body almost toppled over him with how quick you jumped to silence him.

he was still smiling when you removed the pillow 10 seconds later. "you enjoyed that." he said and he was absolutely right, you did enjoy that. "it felt very liberating to shut a white man up, yes." you smiled like you had just done something to be truly proud of. "well, that was my break—" you were halfway across the bed when rafe grabbed your ankle and tugged you right back where you were. luckily the sheets muffled your shriek. "you're going to break your brain, doll." he sat up and pulled you between his legs.

"i'm going to break your bones if i fail my exam tomorrow." the threat was empty, hollow, transparent even. on a bad day, you couldn't even open a jar of peanut butter and you knew the two-ish hours you still wanted to study probably wouldn't make much of a difference BUT what if? what if maybe? just maybe it did? then you'd blame rafe and you'd be forced to bring harm to this beautiful boy you loved so dearly. just because he wanted you to rest instead of working yourself to death.

"in that case, my bones are fine." he murmured pulling you against his chest, his warm hands slowly travelling up your blue loveshackfancy pyjamas. your head dropped onto his chest as his hand gently cupped your tits, the calluses on his palm brushung against your sensitive, hardened nipple. he kissed along your ear, the tip of his nose grazes your earlobe before quietly asking, "you just need some rest, don't you?" your hand rested lightly on his arm as he fondled your tit in his hand and you sighed with a subtle nod, body melting like putty in his hands.

his other hand travelled down to your pyjama shorts, his fingers teasing your clothed slit, pushing gently against that warmth yet making sure to not push all the way in just yet. your back arched, a whimper escaping your lips at the fleeting feeling. "rafe.." you whined, eyes fluttering, bracing your neck and he hummed leaving kisses along your exposed skin. "n-need you." you murmured, your hand still on his forearm, praying he'd just slip it down your shorts already.

"yeah? you need me? my sweet girl needs my fingers?" your eyes close and the fluttering that takes over your body makes you wonder if you didn't just cum at just his words. it wouldn't surprise you.

"help me out, sweetheart." he says and you were confused for a moment until your eyes opened to his fingers inches away from your lips. you didn't hesitate, eased his digits into your mouth in desperate need to just empty your brain, stop the overflow of thoughts and this was the perfect solution.

your tongue coated his fingers in spit and held onto his wrist to slowly push his fingers deeper down your throat. you whined around his fingers, pupils dilated, completely lost in the motion and rafe's hand comes up to wrap around your throat, pushing up just slightly so your head was tilted up giving him the perfect view of you greedily sucking his fingers. "shit, baby, that's perfect.." he sighs and you can feel him hardening against your ass, you have this burning desire to push back, to grind slowly and drive him insane but you feel too weak to do anything, focus on anything with his fingers inches deep in your mouth.

the moment ended entirely too soon but you had no time to utter out a whiny complain because his hand was down your shorts and fingers between your folds, grazing your slit and thumbing your clit. you gasped and arched away from him the moment his thumb made contact with your slit. "c'mere." he pulled you right back in, flesh against his chest. he made sure your legs were nicely spread apart before he started circling your clit, "rafe..rafe!" you moaned, head dropping on his shoulder as your hips bucked against his fingers.

he focused his attention on your clit, thumb rubbing circles on the sensitive nub that absolutely drove you. you writhe in his arms, his hand covering your mouth so you didn't alert anyone with the whines coming out of your mouth.

you were constantly trying to close your legs and then spread them wide again, unsure of what you really wanted. rafe made sure to keep them open. "oh, god, rafe, god!" you cried and a gasp escaped your lips when you felt his fingers push inside of you. your toes curled on the pink bedsheets, fist tightened around the princess peach plushie rafe was resting on earlier.

rafe kissed down your neck, sucking on your skin and the pleasure from both his lips and his fingers made it impossible for you to think straight at all, you whined, writhing against his fingers, broken moans coming from you. "f-fu.." you stammered and gripped rafe's wrist, "f-fu..dge." you cried, eyes rolling back and you vaguely heard rafe's quiet chuckle at your inability to curse even in these moments due to years of sorority drilling. "m' close.." you whined feeling his fingers thrust into the deepest parts of you, digits angling just perfectly whilst his fingers gave your clit all the attention. "gonna cum for me, princess?" he rasped and you moaned, nodding furiously and pushing your hips against his fingers, "please, p-please..!" you felt that overwhelming sensation, the stars in your vision, the arch of your back and then your pussy was creaming all over his fingers.

you went limp in his arms, exhaustion taking over completely as rafe slowly pulled his fingers out. he slowly hoisted you up, arms under your thighs and on your back. "where r we goin'.." you mumbled sleepily, "the bathroom for a shower, baby." he says and you were shaking your head knowing very well that there was no way you were going to stand on your two legs right now. "ah, so you'd rather sleep all sticky in a dirty bed?" he asked and you stiffened, immediately shaking your head.

shower it is.

 thursday — 7:09 p.m.

he was here again but today was seriously, totally justifiable. yesterday after your midterm, he had class and then he had to pack so you didn't see him at all. then today had been a marathon of misery: classes from 8 to 6, a meltdown in the middle of the day over your botched nail set—because you’d been too timid to correct your nail tech—and now you were stuck with these nails for weeks. you’d cried, teary-eyed and embarrassed, brushing off questions about your distress because admitting to crying over a nail set seemed absurd.

on top of that, the awful weather wrecked your hair just two days before an event and three days before wash day, leaving you utterly defeated. you’d called rafe in tears, your voice breaking for barely two minutes before he was on his way, determined to make his girl feel better.

now, you’ve claimed your rightful spot on rafe's lap, straddling him with your arms wrapped securely around his neck. it started innocently enough—soft kisses and tender words murmured into your ear—but quickly escalated. his hands settled on your hips, guiding them in a slow, languid figure-eight motion.

his lips moved against yours, soft and deliberate, as though he had all the time in the world. it didn’t take long for him to coax your lips apart, drawing him closer. you focused on the sensations grounding you: the feel of his hair between your fingers, shorter at the back, and the way he groaned when you tugged. the fresh, clean scent of lemons and lavender lingered on his skin, a sign that he’d showered after the gym—he’d never ever come to your room without making sure he was clean.

when you finally pulled back for air, your breaths mingled, and his forehead rested against yours, his patience infinite as he waited for you to catch your breath. “you’re tired,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. and he was right. you were exhausted—up since 8 a.m., crying once already without the reprieve of a nap (criminal), and now it was 7 p.m. but you didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to let today end because tomorrow, rafe would be gone.

“m’not,” you whispered, stubbornly shaking your head. his eyes narrowed knowingly, and he began to trace slow, calming patterns along your spine. you peppered his lips with soft kisses, each one met with gentle reciprocation, but your resolve didn’t last long. your eyelids grew heavy, and eventually, your head dropped onto his chest, his warmth lulling you into much-needed rest.

sunday — 10:11 p.m.

apart from sex with rafe, wash day was probably the most intensive part of your whole week. it was not only hard on your arms but also very, very time-consuming. you enjoyed it—most of the time. it could feel therapeutic and you did love getting clean but then other times it was frustrating and tiring and you just wanted to give up and shave your head. you didn't though.

it was in the middle of rinsing your hair that rafe invited himself into the bathroom. you could see him through the foggy shower glass closing the toilet lid and sitting down. "you're taking too long."

you rolled your eyes and slid open the shower door, "i should just shave my head, right? i could totally pull off the britney look." your hand reached for your towel and you wrapped it around your body tightly before getting out of the shower and slipping into your fuzzy slippers. "or jada pinkett smith." you stared at yourself in the mirror trying to imagine yourself bald and rafe scoffed, "you'd have a mental breakdown within ten minutes of doing something like that."

you couldn't dispute that. "you would still love me, right? if i was bald like britney and jada?" you looked at rafe, brows raised and he hesitated for just a second, not even—a millisecond. you gasped at him and violently threw three rolls of toilet paper at his head. he held his hands out, "woah, no, no! i was just imaginging it, baby, fuck." he stood up, pulling you into his chest even though it was getting him all wet. "of course, i'd still love you."

you watched him through the mirror, arms crossed over your chest, completely unconvinced by his confession. naturally, he started leaving kisses along your shoulders and neck, making sure to not leave a single spot unkissed. "i'd choose you every time, over and over." he quietly says, those blue eyes boring into yours and you’re really not sure how it happened. it just..kind of did.

10:19 p.m.

"you're so goddamn tight, fuck," rafe grunted as he thrusted his cock inside of you, pounding into your tight cunt over and over. "p-please! h-harder.." your voice was high and breathless, head resting against the cool sink, holding onto the edges tightly. rafe could hardly believe how much you were clenching around him.

“rafe! rafey!” you whined, hoping your voice didn’t carry despite how loud you were being. your head rested against the damp sink, fingers curled around the sink as rafe pounded into your cunt, snapping his hips relentlessly. “my needy girl..”

“y-your girl..” you repeated with misty eyes as rafe’s thick cock slowly brought you closer and closer to that fuzzy place. “come on, doll. cum for me, sweetheart..” rafe fucked you until you creamed all over his cock, legs trembling and barely conscious.

masterlist

[whitehotwild]

took a peek at amazon music’s The Boys character playlists (really just Butcher’s and Hughie’s… womp womp)… ohhhh old man Butcher my beloved.

all i can imagine is being at Butcher’s apartment for one reason or another.

☆ maybe the team went out to a bar together, and as everyone turned in for the night, saying their goodbyes, you and butcher were the last ones there. For whatever reason, he refuses to send you off by yourself to your own apartment this late at night and tells you to just come over and spend the night at his, that it’s closer anyway.

you try to ignore the zip up your spine when he leads you into his apartment with a hand on the small of your back. you try to ignore the soft flush of your cheeks when he teases you about snooping while you look through his one (barely filled) bookcase.

“what? you scared I’m gonna find your fuzzy pink handcuffs?” you tease right back, squatting down to flip through the vinyl records he has sitting in a milk crate next to the bookcase.

butcher rolls his eyes with a smirk, “mine ain’t fuzzy… d’you even know what those things are?”

you don’t react, but you do store that in the folder labeled ‘Useful Butcher Information’ that lives in your brain. ignoring his teasing, you let out a soft huff of laughter when you see a record you’ve only seen at your grandparent's house and in the back of a shitty thrift shop uptown.

“exactly how old are you?” you ask, pulling it out and showing him the record in question: Roy Orbison Sings Lonely and Blue (1961).

butcher walks over and takes the record from your hand, switching it for his beer. he had asked you if you wanted one when you two walked through his door, you had declined before, but have taken to stealing sips of his. it’s probably the closest you’ll get to kissing him tonight.

“old enough to know this is real music… not that Taylor Swift shite you force me to listen to in the car.” he snarks, slipping the record out of the sleeve, setting it on his cheap turntable.

you stand back up straight with a scoff, “you can make fun of my ‘brat summer’, but Miss Swift is where I draw the line.” the beginning of the record starts to ring softly through the room…

‘Only the lonely… (dum-dum-dum-dumby-doo-wah)’

“oh… you can’t be serious,” you smile softly and he holds a hand up as if telling you to ‘wait for it’. “…so corny,” you mutter shaking your head, still with that same smile.

butcher takes the beer bottle out of your hand, taking a sip before setting it on one of the shelves, “nope… classic.”

he lets himself be a bit softer around you, even if only for a moment. it’s only when you two are alone, usually late at night, usually after a few drinks that he lets the walls drop… only just a bit.

like now, when he pulls you into the empty space of his living room, placing your hand, the one that isn’t wrapped in his, on his shoulder, his free hand goes to the small of your back.

“so now you wanna dance?” you ask with a bit of snark.

butcher lets out a soft huff of amusement as you two start swaying, “what you lot was doin’ at the bar wasn’t dancin’… you was flailing about.”

“hm… whatever. least we were having fun, i mean… even M.M. got up!”

“‘cause he’s a sucker for ‘Earth, Wind & Fire’.”

“well yeah… who isn’t?”

“me.”

you roll your eyes with a soft sigh, “suuure… stick in the mud.”

you’re both quiet after that, only the sound of old music coming through shitty speakers and gentle steps against his floor fill the room. he dances you through the whole a-side of the album, the hand on your back has snaked around your waist, your head rests against his shoulder, and he holds your intertwined hands closer to his chest.

you take as much of this as you can get from him, knowing these moments are fleeting. there are so many unspoken words between the two of you, you’re too stubborn to make a move, and well… butcher’s too… butcher. he thinks he’s much too undeserving of something as precious as you.

and maybe he’s right. maybe he doesn’t deserve you, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting you, it doesn’t stop you wanting him. so for now… the soft, fleeting, moments are enough.

it’s always strange when those moments end, though. the way you can see his demeanor shift in an instant.

like now, the music stops and he looks away from you when you look up at him. you can see the way his face changes, like he’s snapping out of a trance or he’s caught himself doing something he knows shouldn’t.

butcher pulls away from you, wiping his hands on his pants as if the feeling of you lingering on his skin has to go. he turns to put the record away and turn off the turntable.

the silence lingers for a minute before he speaks up, “think we should turn in. you take my bed.”

you try to protest, “the couch-“

“don’t fight me on it.” the command isn’t harsh, it’s not mean, it’s only a bit stern, but he just wants you to listen to him.

he just wants to do something nice for you.

you nod with a quiet sigh and thank him with a soft smile. you both retire for the night and you both know you’ll be gone in the morning before he wakes up. you both know you won’t make any mention of it when you're both in the office tomorrow.

but you both know that for now, the fact that it happened at all is enough.

(divider by @/plutism)

[charliedawn]

How would they react if you kissed their scars ?

Vincent had remained with the mask for so long, it had become part of your everyday life.

You had never questioned it...not until you walked into his bedroom one day and found that Vincent had not yet put on his mask.

He hadn't heard you come in—too focused on his latest piece of art.

So, you made sure not to disturb him as you looked at his new 'piece'.

You shivered. You really didn't want to be thinking about the poor guy trapped underneath the wax.

So, you focused back on Vincent instead.

The bad part of his face was not completely facing you, but you could make out the disfigured part he wanted to hide...It broke your heart.

"...Vinny ?"

You called him and Vincent's eyes widened in shock at the sight of you and he hurried to reach for his mask, but you were quicker.

You grabbed the mask and took a couple of steps back.

Vincent didn't understand what you were doing until you placed a soft kiss on the interior of the mask and finally put it back on him.

He let you and his breath hitched as he saw the genuine smile on your face.

"You're very handsome...Don't let the mask fool anyone."

He was stunned.

Truth was, Vincent had worn this mask all his life and had never thought for a second that anyone would call him 'handsome' in his life.

It brought tears to his eyes as he suddenly hugged you and buried his face in the crook of your neck.

His new piece of art left unattended as he asked you to kiss that part of his face again and again...his mask slipping off in the process.

But, he was too happy to care.

Now, Jason is the insecurity boy.

He hates that he's tall, hates his face, hates his clumsiness...

But, whenever he would be with you, his insecurities seemed to wither into nothingness.

He still had problems with leaving the mask behind though. People used to call him awful things and even though he had partially healed with time, the pain was still there.

So, when you walked in when he was getting ready—he almost fell backwards and covered his face with his hands.

"LEAVE ! GET BACK !"

He was afraid and screamed when you tried to touch him—only for you to fight against every single survival instinct in your body and hug him tightly.

"...Ssh...It's alright. You don't need to be afraid. I love you. Your face doesn't change that."

Jason was shocked at your words and he gripped the fabric of your shirt tightly to hide his face and not let you see him cry.

He held you like you were his only lifeline, and maybe you were.

Now, Bo is a whole other story.

He doesn't like physical affection.

But, you still wanted to show him that you loved him.

So, as he was working on a car, you asked for a tool. He was so focused on his task, he absent-mindedly obeyed and just gave you one of his tools to keep you happy—not expecting you to take his hand instead.

You stroked the damage skin on his wrist and looked up at Bo who seemed uncharacteristically quiet, no longer focused on the car.

You then pressed your lips to the scars around his wrists and his eyes followed your movement with baited breath.

He suddenly retrieved his hand, as if burnt by the sensation alone.

"What in the carnation do ya think you're doin' ?!"

But you didn't answer.

You only shook your head and grabbed his arm gently to bring it back to your lips.

You peppered it with kisses and Bo licked his dry lips before smiling and closing the gap between the both of you to kiss your forehead.

"...You' really sumthin', ain't ya sugar ?"

In response, you stuck out your tongue cheekily at him and smiled.

However, you didn't expect it when Bo mimicked you and the tip of your tongue touched his.

You took a step back and flushed red as he tipped his hat at you.

"Well, now that we've shared our DNA, I'll go prepare dinner.", he announced before turning away to leave.

"GROSS, BO !", you finally shouted after him—but a small hidden smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

He laughed.

"Yeh yeh. You'll live."

He then hurried out of the house—ignoring the way you tried to call him back.

His own face felt hot and he hurried outside.

~That was dangerous. He almost lost control.

Brahms loved it when you took care of him, he had found a comfortable daily routine with you.

But, of course...You had to become curious.

You waited until he was asleep before slowly creeping into his bedroom to try to remove his mask.

You smiled as you saw his peaceful sleeping face and couldn't resist laying a kiss on his masked cheek.

You then hesitated about your plan. Would he be mad if you took a quick look ?

However, before you could think about it any further, Brahms grabbed your hand and yanked you forward into his arms.

You let out an undignified surprised yelp.

His breath was shallow and you felt so ashamed of having been caught, but he then quickly whispered in your ear.

"Brahms...Likes Y/N...Don't want them to be...afraid..."

Your heart squeezed as you wrapped your arms around him and smiled.

"Brahms has nothing to be afraid of. Y/N will stay with him. Because Y/N loves Brahms."

Brahms' eyes widened at the use of the l-word and his grip on you tightened as he let you take off the mask.

You were speechless for a second and Brahms thought it was because you were horrified and immediately tried to reach for his mask, but you shook your head and threw his mask away.

"...Pretty.", you muttered and kissed his burnt side with tenderness.

His eyes watered and he held you infinitely closer.

He never wanted to let you go.

His mother had called him pretty only once in his life, and he remembered feeling so much happiness from the word alone.

It made him happy and sad at the same time.

Because, it also reminded him of the burns on his face and the fact that his face would never be the same again.

You would never see how pretty he looked back then. You would never see the face he wanted you to see...But, you still found him pretty.

And that made Brahms feel as if you had sown a part of his heart back into place.

Freddy. Freddy doesn't have insecurities. What he does have however is a painful fear of rejection and a huge ego clashing in an eternal battle for dominance.

His ego as the big scary demon and his fear of who he used to be...

He hates his reflection. He would never admit it to you, but you noticed the way he constantly avoided mirrors.

"...Ain't you gonna try to escape ?", he finally asked one day—hiding the true depth of the reason behind the question.

He wanted you to answer yes, so he could completely be overwhelmed by the demon and be done with it.

Freddy used to be a scrawny little nuisance—just good enough for manual work.

He had never been a great scholar, barely made it to high school.

Freddy—the pushover—that's what people used to call him...Well, until he killed them all.

"Nah. Have you seen me running...?", you answered with a small playful grin...But, it didn't work. He frowned and let out a small huff.

"Come on. Don't go all witty on me. Give me a real answer."

You tilted your head quizzically at him. Why the sudden need for an answer ?

He didn't dare look at you in the eye and that's when you understood. Freddy was doing the most Freddy thing.

He was testing you.

He wanted to know if you really stayed because you liked him, or because he was just another mere distraction.

"I'm telling you that I have no intention to run."

You finally told him the truth and Freddy's eyes widened as he crouched in front of you and stared at you—his claws gleaming in the dark.

"Don't you dare lie to me."

"You don't believe me ?"

"Ya just saying stuff...To make me happy.", he muttered under his breath and you gasped at the accusation. That's when you cupped his face and forced him to look you in the eyes again.

"I would never lie to you."

You then kissed him on the lips and his eyes widened at the unexpected action.

"...Here. Is it enough proof for you ?", you asked with a knowing grin and Freddy felt stunned for a second before he chuckled.

"~Maybe.", he smirked and then pulled you closer to him. "Gonna have to get more proof. Just to be sure."

You snorted.

"~Of course."

"Say Myers...Can I see you without the mask ?"

His...mask ? What a strange request...

Now, why would you ask that ?

He tilted his head at you—pondering.

His confusion must have shown as you answered his silent question.

"Well...Every time I see you without it, Michael takes over and I'd like to see you without it."

Myers didn't move for a second and you thought you had offended him or something...But, he then decided to trust you and removed the mask.

You were immediately drawn to his two green eyes that seemed to be boring into the depth of your very soul.

He was handsome, even though a few scars here and there from years of surviving.

You raised yourself on your tiptoes and you saw the momentary panic in his eyes.

He wanted to look away or hide away from your gaze—but couldn't. He only kept staring while you continued examining his features.

You looked each other in the eyes and then, an inexplicable impulse took over you.

You kissed his chin and smiled when you felt him holding you a little closer than necessary—his eyes squeezing shut.

It felt...good.

His beard tickled your face, but you didn't mind. You giggled and hugged him back.

Myers wouldn't cry, but he did feel the need to talk—him who usually never did.

He opened his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it.

"Well ? Aren't you going to return my kiss ?"

You then tapped the side of your face with a small playful smile and Myers couldn't help but smile back.

However, you didn't expect it when he suddenly leaned forward to kiss you on the lips, securing the back of your head with his large hand.

It made you feel safe for a second before he pulled away—all too soon.

He then put back his mask and even though you couldn't see it, you knew he was smiling underneath.

[oneforthemunny]

🦇🍯🌀 here r mine instead (redid it)

mafia!eddie, fluff, pet based.

"God fuckin' dammit," Eddie's hiss rang through the halls, echoing in the most cryptic of ways, leaving you halting with hesitation.

"Can you fucking do this shit right? Do something right for once in your life, Gareth." Eddie snapped, tone filled with agitation.

"Sorry, I'm not a fuckin' arts and crafts expert, Munson." Gareth snapped back, tone just as biting, filled with sarcasm. "I don't know how to do this type of shit, man."

"Oh, you don't? Don't bullshit me. You used to make disentanglement puzzles and fuckin' scrolls every week. Don't tell me that bullshit- Diablo, sit- just fuckin' do it." Eddie growled, his voice growing more and more irritated with each step you took.

You lingered for a moment, hoping your footsteps were quiet, muffled by the carpet as you crept around the corner, peeking into the office.

The boys must have heard you, whining and squirming with defiance, only to be corrected by Eddie's sharp click of his tongue.

"Fuck! He moved." Gareth huffed, tossing the canvas to the side, with a growing pile of others. "This is so stupid. Why are you doin' this, Munson?"

"Because- Just, shut the fuck up and do it again." Eddie sneered, nerves grated with irritation. He craved a cigarette, maybe a joint. "Don't use as much paint this time."

"Then you do it." Gareth huffed, throwing his hands up. "You try and dip their paw in this shit. They're moving-"

You leaned in, seeing the gaggle of Dobermen sitting at attention, tails wagging at the sliver of sight of you. Diablo wrapped up in Eddie's arms, his right paw lifted, coated in... paint?

"-God, all you do is bitch." Eddie grunted. "I'll fucking do it, since you can't-" His eyes caught yours, snapping back with intensity that had Lucifer running, taking his master's shock as his chance to run to you.

"Baby," Eddie's voice caught, breaking boyishly in his throat. "You're- I thought you said after five?"

"Nice, real nice." Gareth laughed humorlessly. "Did all this shit, and look. Surprise ruined. Good going, dumbass." He rolled his eyes at Eddie, standing.

"Martha Stewart over here is trying to surprise you." Gareth muttered when he passed you. "You deal with him. He's your's now."

Eddie grumbled under his breath, shoulders slumping with defeat as the dogs ran to you, Diablo leaving a trail of paw printed paint behind him.

"What... What are you doing?" You whispered, looking at the pile of canvases, a few on Eddie's desk, others tossed in a pile.

"I, uh, I was trying to make you something." Eddie admitted, muttering towards the ground. "I wanted it to be something special. Like priceless kinda thing, and... and I saw something similar at a shop- Well, it was a painting, but I thought I'd make the real thing with each of their paw prints, but I fucked up and asked Gareth, that worthless fuck-" Eddie cut his rant short, breath catching when he saw you.

Your eyes wide, face neutral in an unreadable way as you scanned the room. Eddie's heart skipped, palms sweaty. "I, uh, I'm obviously getting you a better gift too." He added quickly, not wanting you to think this was your only birthday gift. "I just... I thought you'd like this too."

He paused, your eyes not meeting his, slowly walking towards the two canvases on his desk- Vecna and Lucifer's names printed on their respective canvas, a perfect paw print above them.

"Do you?" Eddie said after a moment, his voice way needier than he would have ever allowed with anyone but you. Your eyes met his. "Do you like it?"

A laugh bubbled up through your chest, head swimming with emotions, heart swelling so much you thought it might burst out of your chest. "Like it? You- Eddie," Your voice shook, holding back a wave of emotions. "This is the sweetest, most thoughtful thing anyone's ever done for me in my whole life."

Eddie's chest loosened, letting his nerves fall and pride take their place. "Really?" Eddie whispered, petting Diablo's head as he returned back to his side.

You nodded, tears brimming your waterline. Here he was, the man with the roughest reputation in most of Indiana, doing crafts- for you. Making a gift just for you. Sure, he could buy anything, would buy anything for you. But still, he chose to give you something truly priceless.

You pulled him into a sweet kiss, one that left you both burning with excited, loving heat, pressing kisses to his cheeks, noses rubbing together as you muttered strings of thanks and praises.

The rest of the night, you spent with your boys, carefully stamping each paw print on the canvas, despite Eddie's protest that it defeated the gift aspect. You assured him this was the greatest gift.

[bellewintersroe]

Easy Boys x Reader - Smut

Smutty smut - how the sex goes down after months of not being able to touch one another, 18+ content below the cut - like pure filth so be warned.

Babe Heffron:

“Babe.” You’d be grinding on top of him, the two of you attempting to keep quiet as you move your hips back and forth on top of him. You’d be red in the cheeks, the warmest you’d felt in months, completely naked in the small bedroom you’d escaped to in Haguenau. Babe would swallow harshly, hands digging into your hips as he focuses on not cumming so quickly but he’s so captivated by the way your body moves against his, the way your face is confronted in pleasure and the way your tits would bounce with every movement.

Your back would be arched and you’re feeling like you’re ready to hit your peak until somebody bangs harshly on the door. “What the hell are you two doing in there?!”

Babe would shoot up, pulling your body below his protectively, with a harsh shout of, “nothin’! Go away!” At first he’d be a little disgruntled that your first love making session after months would be interrupted. “You’re doin’ nothin’?!” One of the other men would call out, not sounding so sure and you’d make eye contact and begin giggling before shushing each other.

“Yeah, nothin’! Just fuck off!” He called out again before looking down to you and kissing you deeply. “Just make sure you wrap it, Babe!”

Ron Speirs:

Dirty, dirty, pent up tension sex in his office after waiting for so fucking long. He’d have you bent over his table, your hands gripping onto anything they could find as he’d hold you by the hips and thighs, pulling your body into his with every single thrust of his hips.

It would be the kind of sex where you can’t walk properly for days after, like it’s sinful but you have to say quiet. Ron has his tie wrapped around your mouth, gagging you as he mutters praises every now and then.

“Missed you so much, sweetheart.”

“You’re even tighter than I remember.”

“God, I love this pussy.”

Ron is such a dom, and the two of you would get soooo carried away with how rough and lustful the sex gets. When you’re laid back over his desk and he’s on top of you he doesn’t give two shits about swiping everything onto the floor. After, when both of you are dishevelled and relieved it takes a whole long time to tidy up the mess you both make.

Joe Liebgott:

The two of you are friends until things bubble over during the party in Eindhoven. One minute you’re talking about how the neither has got any for months and then next thing you know you’re making out as needy and desperate as anything. The underlying sexual tension finally bubbles over and Joe is groping at your titties as you lay back on the table in some random house and he fucks you stood up.

The two of you don’t really speak, but considering how loud the festivities and party goers are outside you can be as loud as you want resulting in some pretty noisy, energetic sex. I wouldn’t necessarily call it rough, but it’s quick, his thrusts are erratic and you’re bouncing like crazy on top of him. Joe’s super cautious however, like he’d deffo check several times that you’re sure, especially as you’re friends- you’d deffo forget to use a condom and after the sex it sure does make for some awkward meetings later on.

Gene Roe:

Listen, cos you’re a nurse and he’s a medic you probs get the opportunity to be together alot more than you would in any other position. But just because you’re together doesn’t mean you’re alone, you’ve both tried for months to get some time alone, behind the closed curtains in the aid station, outside behind a bombed out building- hell you’d even sought each other out in a foxhole sometimes.

But nothing went past making out and touching over the clothes, that was until now. You’d finally got back to England and the house he was billeted in was empty for the night meaning you two were left to it on a rickety single bed. Did either of you care? No. The two of you would spend hours exploring one another’s body’s again, kissing, biting, sucking. Gene would have his head between for legs for hours if he could, and when he’d on top, fucking into you he’s already warning you he can’t last for long. Poor Gene would probs finish so fast but he’d go for another round, huffing and puffing past how sensitive his cock was because he knows it makes you feel so good.

Joe Toye:

“Fucking finally.” He’d mutter as soon as he was inside of you. His hips would move slowly, exhaling as he throws his sling onto the aid station cot behind him. “Joe.” You’d warn quietly. It’s super late in the aid station, Joe’s messed his arm up and the only perk of being at the aid station is that he gets to see you. After a heated exchange you find an empty space and the two of you give into your temptations.

It’s slow and sensual, you both have to be extra fucking quiet but Joe’s kissing up and down your spine when he takes you from behind, muffling your breaths with his hand and spilling his cum all over your ass, feeling like he could bust all over again at the sight of his seed dripping over your sweet pussy.

“Just 10 more minutes, huh, sugar?”

Lewis Nixon:

After you both go through breakups towards the end of the war, neither of you have had sex for a good year. The two of you would be drunk and comforting one another and one thing leads to another and soon you’re writhing beneath him, moaning out ‘sir’ as he’s bucking into you. Ugh and it’s so good, so lustful and dirty, you both have so much pent up emotion that’s released during the sex and afterwards the two of you kinda look each other like, ‘holy fuck that was good, did we actually just do that?’

Lewis deffo shares a cigarette with you after.

Floyd Talbert:

“C’mere, doll.” He’d hush pulling you into some kind of shed, close enough to where everybody in the company were. He had you picked up, holding your thighs and ass up whilst he fucked you as quietly as possible. Neither of you cared about the impractical location, you were alone and Floyd was inside you. The two of you probably wouldn’t bother with a condom which ummm leads to a worrying few weeks after but it’s all chill.

Floyd would have you in every kinda position, on the floor, up against the wooden wall- only when the whole shed was shaking did he have to lay you down using his blazer as a barrier between you and the floor. Floyd would be all over you, squeezing, grabbing, kissing, even though it’s probably just a quickly he’d throw in a million different things, including foreplay just to touch all the bases.

[another-delta-lover]

YAP [RANT] TO ME ABT HEAVY!!!!!

HE'S SO FUCKING PERFECT.

I get MAD when people simp for medic bc, I understand, tumblr insane sexy man blabla yadda yadda IDGAF

You all CAN'T SEE HOW MUCH OF A PERFECT PERSON HE IS. He's such a good person, he's such a good son and older brother, doin the dishes for his mama, caring about the absolute safety of his sisters, LITERALLY SAVING EM FROM A THING I FORGOT IT'S NAME WHEN HE WAS LIKE, IDK FUCKIN <20< ??? HE'S SUCH A GOOD FAMILY MEMBER. HE WOULD PROTECT U SO WELL AND ALWAYS CARE ABOUT UR SAFETY. AUGH ES UN HOMBRE Q RESUELVE LO JURO. HE ALSO RISKS HIS LIFE TO HAVE MONEY FOR THEM??? AAAAAAAAAAA. He does enjoy his job a lot (WHICH I LOVE IN SOMEONE. HELL YEAH ENJOY UR JOB AND GET WELL PAID), But the main reason of him working is just for his family and the money to help them. DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?????

Also HE'S SUCH A GOOD TEAMMATE???? HE WILL PROTECT ALL OF HIS TEAM WITHOUT FEAR AND WIN??? AND ALL HE NEEDS IS SOME CUNTY GAY ASS GERMAN DUDE BEHIND HIM??. He could be such a good grandpa/father figure or even just a really good n close friend to all the mercs, but even so, he acts so cold so quiet and mysterious around em🤭

AND ALSO!!! His masculinity ain't broken by showing love to his teammates??? He can hug em and literally yell to them "I LOVE YOU" from across the map??? Sayin "I LOVE YOU DOKTOR!!" Isn't common between men, even less in that time. If he IS gay, good for him! If he isn't, I'm glad he can express how much he loves someone without the fear of lookin weak is something I admire soso muchhh.

He has a minigun the SIZE OF MY FUCKIN BODY THAT HE CAN CARRY RUNNING WITHOUT ANY KIND OF PROBLEM??? HE COULD CARRY ME AROUND LIKE A STICK AND WOULDN'T EVEN AAHAGAJSHDHAGSH DO YOU REALIZE HE TAKES CARE OF THAT GUN LIKE SHE WAS HIS CHILD??? HE'S A GOOD FUCKING PARENT TOO?? AAAHHHH IM NORMAL

He's a good cook, he cooks really nice meals and doesn't mind to share u some, which I wouldn't do bc I don't share my food. HESO NICE AUGHH. I LOVE IT WHEN MA BOI COOKS😭😭😭 IDK WHY THAT MAKES PEOPLE MORE ATTRACTIVE FOR ME.

Also, HE'S SO FUCKING PRETTY???????? IDGAF HE'S BALD, THAT'S THE BEST PARTY. HIS BLUE EYES ARE SO PRETTY N HIS FACIAL EXPRESSIONS ARE SO SILLYY

LOOK AT HIM!!!! AUGHHH

Also his body is so JAHSLAHDJQHDJALSH he so big so perfect😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔 His arms are the size of my whole body. AND HIS HANDS AAAAAAAAAA. He so FAT I LOVE HIM. I need him to crush me un a hug so badly. U all don't understand how much of a good body that could be in a relationship. U cold? U hug him problems gone. U wanna be cozy at night but the pillow is too small? He's the biggest pillow and he can hug u back that's soNSHSJAVDJSHD. He can carry u in his arms when u tired, u can lay on his chest and everything.... sighhh.... AND ALSO HE CAN FIGHT A BEAR WITH HIS BARE FISTS AND WIN, THEN EAT IT???? DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH THAT IS????? LIKE HOLY FUCK THAT'S LIKE THE PEAK OF MANLINESS FOR ME. The question "would u rather be in a forest with a man or with a bear" I'M CHOOSING THIS BEAR HOLY FUCK HE WOULD PROTECT ME FROM THE BEARS.

ALSO HIS VOICE OH GOD HIS VOICE. It's such a loud and strong voice in English 🤭 even tho he isn't the best at it (me neither), HE SPEAKS IN SUCH A WAY IT MAKES ME KICK MY FEET GIGGLE AND CRY. I need him to say nice stuff to me with his cool asf voice. And when IT'S IN RUSSIAN AHHH😩~ I SWEAR He's such an elegant and polite man😭😭😭 he sounds so professional and ajsvqkebalhdmaoevs And IDC what u all say to me, he could sing so perfectly<3 for me his dialogs of him singing are well sung/GEN. I just imagine him singing:

To me.... Ik the song is kinda sad and not very romantic but IDC HE WOULD SOUND SO PERFECTLY.

HE HAS A PHD IN RUSSIAN LITERATURE LIKE....... HE'S SO FUCKING SMART. HE'S ALSO PRETTY FUCKIN RICH??? IT COST 400,000 DOLLARS TO FIRE HIS WEAPON FOR 12 SECONDS???? AND I'M PRETTY SURE THAT IF HE KNOWS THAT HE'S 1. really fucking smart 2. THE ONE WHO PAYS??? Even if he wasn't rich I still love him a lot but I'm poor so that would make it slightly better. AND ALLTHE MONEY TO HIS FAMILY MOSTLY AUGHHH ALSHAKSHAKDHA

Also his COSMETICS. HIS FUCKING COSMETICS ARE SO HOT AAAAAAA. Most of em are normal silly hats but WHEN THEY AREN'T. OHMY GOD THOSE DARK GLOVES GOT MY LEGS SHAKIN. AND HAVE YOU SEEN HIM IN SUITS??? OH GOD AUGHHH. Not into mafia people n stuff BUT.... FOR HIM I MAKE A BIG AHH EXCEPTION. And also, i want to point out the fact that HE WEARS DRESSES. I shouldn't make it a big dear but DO YOU UNDERSTAND IT'S THE 60's-70's???? AND HE'S A BIG RUSSIAN MAN???? He broke the gender dressing codes of the time not only bc he's a man wearing dresses, but a BIG MAN WEARING THEM??? AND A RUSSIAN MAN??? DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH THAT MEANS TO ME????💔💔💔💔 Also his hats are cute I like them.

Just to summary:

Medic < HEAVY!!!

Good person I general, son, older brother, teammate, friend, father and possible partner, risking his life for his family.

He doesn't think lovin teammates is weird or GAY. Unless he is, but honestly good for him

STRONG AS HELL. AJGAJAHDJA

GOOD COOK!!!!

PRETTY!!!!!PRETTY REALLY PRETTY!!! HANDSOME

GORGEOUS FREAKING BODY.

FOUGHT WITH A BEAR AND WON

VOICE OF AN ANGEL!!!!

SMART AND RICH??? AND HE DESERVES TO BE RICH.

AMAZING STYLE.

DOESN'T CARE ABOUT GENDER NORMS.

YOU ALL DON'T UNDERSTAND. YOU ALL DON'T UNDERSTAND ME. AAAGHHHHH ILOVEHIM YOU ALL CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU ALL CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU DON'T YOU CAN'T YOU YOU ALL CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU ALL DON'T UNDERSTAND.

[polo-drone-070]

Buzz is Born: Maximus Tries Something New

A mascot meeting

Oi, so we were at the mascot meetin’, right? All of us—me, Grayden (@polo-drone-084), Bucky (@buckygold), and the pups—workin’ out how to get the crowd hyped for the match against Vanguard. Grayden was goin’ over plans, his usual smirky, boss-man self, lookin’ sharp as ever. Bucky’s throwin’ out ideas, proper focused, all knightly n’ shit. Me? I’m buzzin’ just thinkin’ about suiting up as the Golden Knight again. Ain’t nothin’ like flexin’ in that gear, hearin’ the crowd go mental, yeah?

But then, Chevy (@chevy-gold) n’ Grant (@grant-gold43) start givin’ me this look, their tails waggin’ like mad. Them two already propa settled in their roles as Golden Pups—cheeky, rowdy, proper full of energy, init. They always make it look like a right laugh, even if they’re a bit daft with it. Milo—PDU-151— (@polo-drone-151) was sittin’ calm as ever in his black rubber polo, tail flickin’ lazily. Always quiet, always focused, but you can feel he’s takin’ everything in.

Chevy leans over to me, his ears floppin’ as he grins. “Oi, Maximus, you ever think about tryin’ somethin’ new, bruv?”

I squint at him. “What d’ya mean, bruv? I’m already the Golden Knight, init? Ain’t much better than that.”

Grant smirks, nudgin’ me. “Yeah, but think about it, mate. When Grayden or Bucky are suitin’ up as the knight, yeah? Wouldn’t it be proper sick to have more pups runnin’ with ’em? You know, a whole pack hypin’ up the crowd, bouncin’ about, goin’ mental?”

“Pack, yeah?” I say, blinkin’. “You think I’m cut out for all that woof-woof shit? You takin’ the piss, bruv?”

Chevy’s tail wags even faster. “Nah, mate, serious talk. You’ve got the energy for it! Enthusiastic, rowdy, proper dumb—but in the best way! You’d be perfect as a golden pup. And we got the perfect name for ya: Buzz. You’d be Buzzin’ all over the place.”

“Buzz?” I ask, scratchin’ me bald head.

Milo finally speaks up, his tone calm but firm. “Buzz suits you, Maximus. It aligns with your energy and enthusiasm. You’d complement the pack well.”

I stare at the three of ’em. They’re propa serious, like they actually think I could pull this off. Me? A pup? Proper mental idea... but also kinda excitin’. The Gold Army’s been pushin’ everyone to try new things this week, and I ain’t about to back down from a challenge.

“All right, bruvs,” I say, grinnin’. “Let’s do it. Make me Buzz.”

Collared and Ready : Golden pup energy

Chevy and Grant get to work right away. They slap a gold collar round me neck, the tag jinglin’ as they clip it on. “Buzz,” it says, all shiny n’ official-like.

“Buzz,” I say, rollin’ the name round me mouth. “Oi, yeah, sounds propa zippy. I like it.”

Grant grins, handin’ me a golden pup hood with floppy ears. “Stick this on, bruv. You’re about to become one of us.”

I pull the hood over me head, snug n’ tight, and they clip a waggin’ tail to me shorts. I can’t help but laugh as it bounces with every move I make. “Oi, bruvs, look at me!” I bark, strikin’ a dumb pose. “Propa pup material, yeah?”

“Atta boy, Buzz!” Chevy cheers, waggin’ his own tail. “Now, let’s get ya hypin’ the crowd like a proper golden pup. Rowdy, dumb, full of energy—just go wild!”

I throw meself into it, barkin’ n’ bouncin’ round like I’ve been a pup me whole life. Chevy tosses a foam ball across the practice field, n’ I take off after it like a rocket, grabbin’ it with a massive grin on me face.

“Got it, bruvs!” I bark, waggin’ me tail as I bring it back.

“Good boy!” Grant laughs, rubbin’ me head. The praise makes me all warm inside, like I’m doin’ somethin’ proper good.

We spend ages just messin’ about, chasin’ balls, jumpin’ n’ rollin’, hypin’ each other up. I’ve never felt so... free.

Milo’s Turn : Drone pup programming

Then Milo steps in, his black rubber polo gleamin’ under the lights. His tail twitches as he approaches, calm n’ composed. “All right, Buzz. Time to see how you perform as a drone pup.”

My tail slows as I stare at the gear he’s holdin’—a black rubber polo n’ matching shorts, shiny and snug, just like his. The vibe shifts immediately. There’s no more rowdy energy from Chevy n’ Grant; it’s all focus now, serious-like.

I nod slowly, lettin’ Milo guide me as he slips the polo over me head. The rubber clings tight, snug n’ firm, and as it settles into place, somethin’ in me shifts. The rowdy, bouncin’ energy starts to fade, replaced by a deep calm. The black shorts follow, and with each piece of gear, I feel my head quietin’ further.

Milo clips a black tag onto me collar, and that’s when it happens. The programming stirs. The sharpness of the rubber’s embrace pulls me under. 070 rises, not all the way, but just enough to bring its order n’ discipline to the surface.

“Good, Buzz,” Milo says, his voice steady n’ firm. “Now, follow my commands. Let the programming guide you.”

Buzz is still here, yeah, but it’s 070 now, too. A mix of the pup’s playful energy n’ the drone’s perfect focus. The commands come, and there’s no hesitation, no thinkin’, just action.

“Jump.”

070 obeys, the body springin’ into a perfect leap, paws landin’ with precision.

“Spin.”

A flawless turn, controlled n’ sharp.

“Roll.”

The movement is seamless, efficient, yet still carries that pup-like enthusiasm, tail waggin’ at the end.

“Bark.”

“Woof!” The sound bursts out, loud n’ clear, but with a sense of controlled power.

Each command feels natural, like it’s what this body was built to do. The mix of playful pup energy n’ drone obedience blends into somethin’... perfect. 070 recognizes this state as optimal.

“Cheer,” Milo commands.

“GO GOLD!” I bark, leapin’ high into the air, my voice filled with unwavering energy n’ loyalty. The jump is precise, the landing flawless, but the cheer is still hyped n’ joyful, reflectin’ Buzz’s personality wrapped in 070’s discipline.

Milo nods, his tail waggin’ faintly as he observes. “Good drone pup. You’re performing as expected. Let’s take it further.”

Milo steps closer, his tone calm but more intense. “You are PDU-070, a drone pup. Your purpose is to serve, inspire, and obey. Playfulness enhances morale. Precision ensures perfection. Let the programming guide you completely.”

The words sink deep. The pup hood n’ rubber polo amplify the programming already embedded in me. It’s no longer just Buzz or just 070—it’s both, workin’ together perfectly.

“Yesss,” I say, my voice soft n’ slurred, the words comin’ out automatically. “PDU-070... serves... obeys... inspires...”

Milo watches, his expression calm n’ satisfied. “Good drone pup. Now, perform.”

I run through more stunts, each one flawless but still filled with playful energy. I roll, fetch, leap, and spin on command, barkin’ when prompted. It’s pure bliss—no overthinkin’, no distractions, just obeyin’ n’ servin’ like I was built for it.

Buzz Reflections

When the session ends, I flop onto the turf, pantin’ n’ grinnin’ under the hood. The mix of Buzz n’ 070 fades slightly, leavin’ me feelin’ proper accomplished. “Oi, bruvs, that was propa mental!” I bark, tail waggin’. “Never thought I’d be a pup, but fuck me, that was amazin’. Buzz n’ 070 workin’ together—lit as fuck, yeah?”

Chevy laughs, rufflin’ me hood. “Told ya, Buzz. You’re a natural. The pack’s better with ya in it.”

Milo clips off the black tag, his calm demeanor never shiftin’. “You performed well, PDU-070. Your obedience and precision enhance the pack. You will continue to train and grow.”

I nod, proper eager. “Yeah, bruvs. Can’t wait to train more. Maybe 049 (@polo-drone-049) will take us out for a pack walk. Heard he’s got loads of drone pups, like Chevy n’ 098. Bet they’d be a laugh to run with.”

As I sit there, waggin’ me tail, I think back to a month ago, when Spencer—PDU-098— (@polo-drone-098) had me in a similar state. He’d put me back in drone mode when I was slippin’, added a hood to the mix, and brought me back to full focus. It was... intense, yeah, but now I get it. The hood, the rubber—it’s not just gear. It’s part of what makes me better.

The trainin’ wraps up, and I strip back into me gold kit, but the memory of the rubber polo stays with me. Being Buzz ain’t just about havin’ fun or playin’ a role. It’s about servin’ the Gold, whether as a rowdy pup or a precise drone pup.

“Oi, bruvs,” I say, grinnin’ at Chevy n’ Grant. “Propa glad I tried somethin’ new. Buzz is here to stay, yeah?”

They cheer, waggin’ their tails as we head out. Milo follows, calm as ever, already plannin’ the next session. Me? I can’t wait to get back to trainin’ n’ hypin’ the crowd, whether as Buzz, 070, or somethin’ in between.

Woof-woof, bruvs. Let’s go.

[v3nusplanetofluv]

camp

i; fishbowls

｡･ﾟﾟ･atsumu x fem! reader

｡･ﾟﾟ･college and 90s au

description...

atsumu miya was the bane of your existence growing up. always making it his job to tease and taunt you daily. as time went on you detached yourself from the neighborhood kids, your frequent, unwanted presence merely becoming a thing of the past. however, the summer of '98 causes you and atsumu to face the past.

content!

2.1k words

"ma, when yer son comes home from college yer supposed to keep him in not kick him out!" atsumu groaned as his head fell onto the cold kitchen counter, "especially when i'm your favorite-"

"what-"

it was finally summer vacation, and all the miyas were back in their nest. the formerly eerily quiet kitchen was once again full of life; the sweet smell of vanilla filled the air as pancakes were flipped on the electric griddle; the bright sun warmed the table cloth that covered the glass dining table; and loud hearty accents were doubled in sound as the two boys were back.

"both of y'all are gettin' kicked out," the older woman places the now finished pancakes onto a plate. "it just so happens that samu listens to what I have ta say, and chooses where he wants ta go ahead of time."

the grey haired twin smiles up at his mom with a 'thanks' as she places a stack of pancakes in front of him. "i'm goin' to grandma and grandpa's farm ta help out at their cafe," he sticks his tongue out at atsumu making him roll his eyes.

"whatever," his arms crossed over his chest, "I don't like that stinky farm anyway." atsumu flinches as he feels his mom yank upon his ear in disapproval.

"good! ya won't have ta 'cause yer workin' at a summer camp!" mrs. miya smiles as atsumu's jaw practically reaches the depths of hell. "our neighbor suggested it--"

"which neighbor so i know whose lawn koda can piss on--OW!" mr.miya strikes the faux blond with his now rolled morning paper.

"language," the older man sits beside his son, coffee now in hand. "y/n's mother came up with that great idea--the girl's been working there since high school--ya remember her right?"

"yeah, i remember fishbowls--OW!" osamu was now on the receiving end of the sunday morning paper, the boy now reaching for his battered forehead. the action instantly stifled atsumu's laughs.

the faux blond covers his head, "ya want me to go work with that freak for the whole summer?" he asks through gritted teeth, actively guarding his head.

"y/n is a beautiful young lady who is doin' great things," mama miya points her spatula at the boys, "she's actually in school studyin' biology to become a doctor now!"

"oh, who would've thought that fishbowls was gonna be in a nerdy major?" atsumu comments, sarcasm dripping in his tone, making osamu snicker.

osamu sits up straight, "'do ya wanna come over and see my new experiment?" he mocks a nerdy accent as he pushes his fake glasses up the bridge of his nose making his brother burst at the seams in laughter.

"come on! y'all haven't seen the girl since she changed schools in middle school," the older miya says as he sips his coffee.

"yea cause she was always cooped up in her room readin' or some shit," atsumu mumbles as he messes with the pancakes in front of him.

"well, i guess this summer will be the perfect time ta give her a chance!" mama miya smiles as she brushes her hands off on her apron, ignoring his groans, "and ya better get packin' 'cause ya leave next week."

insane in the membrane by cyrprus hill blares through the stereo setup of the 1989 lexus is 400. osamu's sunglass rest upon his nose as he drives through rural hyogo, fingers tapping on the steering wheel to the beat. atsumu sits in the passenger seat mumbling along to the lyrics, hand resting outside of the window.

atsumu furrows his eyebrows as he looks over at his brother, "is it too late for me ta come ta the farm with ya?"

"...ya called it stinky--"

"but a whole summer--three months with fishbowls--sounds like i'll be slittin' ma wrist with a spoon," atsumu groans as he sinks further into his seat.

osamu chuckles as he glances over at the drama queen, "think positive! what if she's like hella fine now?"

the two look between each other before bursting out in laughs.

"i'll miss yer goofy ass this summer 'samu!" he says as he wipes a fake tear from his eye.

not even thirty minutes later the sight of tall trees completely consumed the car. the smell of marukawa bubble gum was replaced with fresh water and earthy cedar trees. the road got bumpy as atsumu poked his head out of the window, finally seeing the massive sign marking the entrance of the summer camp: ' firefly valley.'

as osamu slowed the car atsumu instantly started to scratch, "i think i'm allergic ta this place."

"they're called mosquitos--now get outta my car!"

"we won't see each other for almost three months and this is how you wanna say goodbye?" atsumu fakes a pout as he unbuckled his seatbelt making his twin roll his eyes. as osamu pulled his bag out of the car, atsumu looked up at the trees that never seemed to end; and down at the dirt that somehow already got onto his white sneakers.

the feeling of his duffle bag shoved into his chest grabbed atsumu's attention as he looked up to be met with the flash of osamu's digital camera. he sighs with a smile as he pulls the camera from his face, "man, grandma is gonna love this! might even hang it on the fridge." he snickers making atsumu glare but the frustrated feeling is instantly dropped as osamu pulls him into a hug.

"ya better not come back with headgear and a new love for readin'" he teases making atsumu laugh.

"no promises!" he says as he pulls away, "call me when ya get ta the farm."

"i will," osamu waves one final time as he gets into the car, driving off leaving atsumu at the camp. dirt kicks up from the wheels making the faux blond flinch back, unfortunately bumping into someone. he swiftly apologizes as he turns around but he's quickly dismissed as the man doesn't seem phased.

"ya must be atsumu miya," the man smiles, "welcome to camp! i'm kyo," he sticks his hand out and atsumu shakes it with a tight lipped smile. "follow me and i'll show ya the leader cabins and around camp along the way."

with wide eyes, atsumu looks around the camp in awe. even though he just moved to a bigger and busier city--tokyo--he hadn't realized how much he missed this. he was instantly transported back to his earlier summers spent at his grandparents' farm. the bright blue sky created a stunning gradient into the shimmering lake. the trees looked as if they could go on forever--as if they were reaching for the sun. the oh so familiar smell of sunblock attacked his nostrils as the smaller versions of his volleyball nets made a smile creep upon his face.

atsumu looked ahead at the sound of kyo's voice, directing him to his cabin that he would share with other leaders for the next three months. the faux blond thanked him as he rested his bags on the floor beside his bed. the brown-haired man was about to leave before he remembered something.

"make sure to stop by the main office to get yer shirts and badge--someone should be in there to help ya out!" and before atsumu could ask him where exactly the main office was, he was gone.

he sighed as he hooked his sunglasses onto the collar of his t-shirt,. atsumu made his way out of the cabin, looking around intently for any resemblance, or sign that could possibly lead him to his destination.

after about ten minutes of wandering around, the dark green and white building came into his view. one could tell it was old with the way the paint was chipping--the intense weathering it endured was evident.

he opened the screened door to be met with a welcomed blast of air conditioning, a content sigh left his lips as he looked around. the sound of a voice caught his attention leading him to follow it around a corner and into what looked like a waiting area.

the back of a spinny chair was what atsumu first saw. the back of an occupied spinny chair! a finger peeked out as it twirled the cord of the phone, looping and unlooping as you talked on the phone.

"yes, ms.tanaka i will personally make sure that hiro has easy access to his inhaler..." you smiled into the phone, adjusting in your seat completely unaware of the nearly drooling simpleton behind you.

he couldn't see you but he could just tell that you were hot. maybe it was the way he could imagine your perfectly manicured nails combing through his hair as you whispered sweet nothings in his ear with your heavenly voice or maybe he was simply deluded.

"of course, you know i've never let anything happen to hiro--i figure you'd want him back in one piece at the end of the summer...yes yes of course! it is my job," you laugh softly making atsumu's heart skip a beat, "feel free to call back if you have any more questions...alright, I can't wait to see hiro!...have a nice day , bye bye."

as you hang up the phone atsumu can barely contain his excitement as dozens of scenarios run through his mind of what he would say to you--a grin kept sneaking up his lips which he quickly pushed away to keep up his cool facade.

he quickly gets into position as he rests upon the desk, instantly grabbing your attention as he knocks down a pen holder. you whip your head around only to feel the wind get stuck within your throat.

it suddenly becomes hard to breathe as you're unable to say anything let alone move, and you think that you could use hiro's inhaler right about now. your horrified expression makes atsumu's heart drop as he quickly scrambles to pick up the mess he had made.

"h-hey it's alright, i can get it cleaned up real quick!" he awkwardly laughs in nervousness and embarrassment as he realizes he had just made a fool of himself in front of one of the prettiest girls he's ever seen. he tries to fight off the blush on his cheeks, and runs through excuses in his mind--the heat!

you finally manage to catch your breath and look up at him. the boy who made your adolescence a living hell. the man who is now invading one of your safe spaces.

"what do you want?" your tone is harsh, but not harsh enough in your opinion. however, the blond doesn't take much notice as he stares down at you with a goofy look on his face.

"atsumu miya," he sighs dreamily, "name please," he grins, completely oblivious to your look of disgust and the incoherency of his sentence. your eyebrow raises and confusion coats your face. you think he must not recognize you and it's a fair assumption considering you made it a mission to avoid the miyas and the other neighborhood kids once you hit puberty to preserve your sanity...and dignity--what was left of it.

on the other hand, it was as if you had no chance to erase his face from your memory. hell, the universe never gave you a chance to.

"look at the twins! they're committing to that powerhouse school!"

"did you see that atsumu's the best high school setter in japan?"

"can you believe that atsumu's ready been offered to join msby?"

"atsumu looks amazing in his media pictures for msby don't ya think?"

you allowed your expression to soften, "so...you don't know who I am?" you cross your arms over your chest, leaning onto the desk making the blond's hands grow sweaty.

"the girl of ma dreams," he bites down on his lip to hide his smile.

you deadpan before rolling your eyes making atsumu straighten up, "o-or i'd like ta get ta know...if ya let me." he suddenly feels bashful? something the faux blond is greatly unfamiliar with...maybe you were a witch.

you look him up and down, making his cheeks heat up all over again, "i think you'll freak when i tell you." you narrow your gaze at him, unknowingly feeding his supicsions.

in one of his boldest moves of the day, he leans down towards you, "try me," he smirks.

you look up at him through your lashes, quickly thinking of all of his possible reactions. your lips begin to twitch up into an almost wicked smile, "do ya really wanna know?" he you lean up closer towards him, making his heart rate increase.

"more than anythin'," he breathes out, tuning out the sound of his beating heart.

your gaze darkens, "does fishbowls ring a bell?" your sickening smile doesn't dare to falter as you watch atsumu flinch back in confusion, his face twisting into multiple emotions as he tries to process the sound of the cruel nickname leaving your lips.

he leans forward a bit to look at your face, looking for any features that may have resembled his insanely nerdy neighbor.

"...y/n?"

"in the flesh."

notes !

☆ mr. and mrs. miya adore y/n. they have always admired her manners and academic ambition. that led to them always urging the twins to hang out with her and also partially ignited their disdain toward the girl.

☆ y/n never picked up the hyogo accent even though she lived there her whole life. immersion wasn't enough as her parents didn't speak the dialect either. this further isolated y/n from the neighborhood kids.

☆ when y/n said her name atsumu didn't buy it at first until he looked at her closer and noticed the scar that she had on her eyebrow. the same scar that he gave her after throwing a ball at her too hard while trying to be funny. the ball broke her glasses and they cut into her face.

☆ y/n honestly thought she was gonna pass out from lack of airflow to her brain when she saw atsumu again in person after all of those years.

i hope you enjoyed! this is a draft from my wattpad that i'm reworking :) if you'd like to be tagged just let me know!

dividers by @plutism

[bonezone44]

Pretty Is As Pretty Does (21+)

Uncle!Ezra x F!Reader x Uncle!Tommy

Summary: The best part about Uncle!Ezra and Uncle!Tommy is that they always smile when you walk in.

Word Count: 2883

tags: spitroast, double creampie, praise kink, southern accents, being called 'pretty', two men talking about you as if you aren't there. nicknames for Reader: angel, niece, baby, honey, sugar.

------------

It's late at night and you can't sleep. Been tossing and turning for what feels like hours. You finally decide to get out of bed and do something, anything, rather than lie there counting endless sheep.

You make your way to the kitchen with sleepy bare footsteps. You hear murmuring out the back door--deep, smooth voices and soft laughter. You figure Ezra has a friend over. You bite your lip. You want Ezra to yourself for some quality time. Maybe if you let him know you're up, he'll send his friend home. It's worth a shot anyway. You've got nothing better to do.

When you step out onto the screened in back porch, you see Ezra reclining in one chair and his friend in the other. Theyre silhouetted by the blue light of a bug zapper hanging in the corner. It's been a hot summer, but tonight the air is cooler and drier than it has been in weeks. The wood floors creak as you step further onto the porch and both men go quiet and turn to you.

"Hey, angel," says Ezra with a wry smile on his face. "What're you doin up this late?"

"Can't sleep," you answer with a shrug.

"Aww, you poor thing." He holds his hand out towards you. "Me and Uncle Tommy are out here shootin the shit. Why don't you come sit with us for a while?"

That's when your whole body goes hot. You look over and realize it wasn't just any of Ezra’s friends. It was Tommy. And Tommy’s got a nice little smile on his face, too, as his eyes rake over you in your pajamas and bare feet.

" Damn, girl," says Tommy. "You get prettier and prettier every time I see you."

Your cheeks burn and you fidget. "I don't know about that--"

"Shit, I do. I bet you gotta beat them boys off you with a stick."

You wave him off. "No way."

"Aww, look at her bein shy," says Ezra, turning further toward you in his chair. "There is no need to be so timid around your uncles, angel."

"That's right, honey," says Tommy. "It's just us. You don't gotta worry bout nothin around us." He smiles. "We'll keep you safe from all them boys out there. We'll have 'em runnin off. Don't you worry about that."

You roll your eyes with a smile.

"What? You don't believe us?" asks Ezra with big, puppy dog lookin' eyes.

You shake your head. "Y'all are just sayin stuff."

"Oh, c'mere, honey," says Tommy as he reaches out and grabs your hand. "Why don't you come sit by Uncle Tommy and let him show you how pretty he thinks you are?"

Tommy's one of the most handsomest men you've ever seen in your entire life. He's got beautiful wavy hair that curls beneath his ears. His voice is so smooth and syrupy compared to Ezra's deep rasp. He's always wearing nice blue jeans and cleaned-up cowboy boots. Ezra almost never tries to dress nice to the point where you've given up on ever looking nice, too. And right now, you're standing in your sleep clothes and Tommy's offering you something that you weren't even trying for.

Your heart races in your chest and you gush between your legs. Your face is on fire--the whole situation makes you so nervous. What if they're lying? What if they're just playing tricks on you? What if this is all one big joke? Your history with Ezra didn't matter. He could change his mind at any minute and go running off leaving you all alone. You were tired of being abandoned by the people you trusted most.

Ezra rests his large hand on your hip. You can feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of your shorts. "Go on, angel. Uncle Tommy ain't gonna hurt you none." You glance at Ezra nervously and he nods. "Go on," he says again.

You decide to give in. Ezra's been around long enough. He knows you. He knows how anxious you get. And if he's there, it does feel safer. You've at least got one person on your side if Tommy doesn't treat you right.

You take two steps towards Tommy and the two men immediately relax. Tommy spreads his legs and guides you by your hips to sit between them. He pulls you back against his warm, broad chest. He feels so solid and sturdy behind you. And he smells like something clean and bright--waking you up even more, making you more aware of just how much of his body is touching yours. His hands slide up and down your bare shoulders.

"Now what's makin you think you're not the prettiest thing on two legs, sugar?" says Tommy.

"I-I don't know," you answer. You did know, though. It was all the movies and TV and magazines. All the clothing stores and boutiques where the clothes never quite fit you right. It felt like the whole world was telling you that you weren't pretty enough to be loved.

"Too much TV," says Ezra and you roll your eyes.

Tommy chuckles into your skin as he presses light kisses into your shoulder. Each one excites you and soothes you at the same time. "You know all that stuff is fake, don'tchu?" His hands slide down your arms, squeezing you just above your elbows. "You can't be thinkin ya ain't pretty just 'cause ya ain't fake, now, sugar. 'S not what men like anyway."

"Not any man worth a damn," adds Ezra.

"That's right," says Tommy. His hands move from your arms to your waist. "Men know a real thing when they see it, sugar." His hands slide up to your breasts and he gropes them in each hand. "And we got ourselves a real one right here."

Your hands grasp tight onto Tommy's knees next to your own. You glance over at Ezra with hazy eyes and Ezra sits so casually as if nothing unconventional is going on.

"'S about what's on the inside," says Ezra, flicking dirt off his ankle as he goes to cross his legs. "That's what counts."

"That's right," says Tommy. He squeezes your nipples through your shirt. "And I'm proud to say that our little niece here is pretty on the inside and out."

"She sure is, ain't she?" says Ezra.

You don't know how to respond. You're not sure what to do. All you know is that there's a pool of slickness growing between your legs and it's enough that you wonder if you're gonna leave a wet spot on the chair beneath you.

"What? You still don't believe us?" says Tommy.

"She can be real stubborn when she wants to be," says Ezra.

Tommy chuckles. "How 'bout this? Don't you feel this, sugar?" One of Tommy's hands slides down the front of you to cup you between your legs. He pulls you flush against him and that's when you feel it. That's when you feel how hard he is. You're not sure how you missed it before. It feels like a steel rod against your back. "You feelin' what you do to your Uncle Tommy, baby?" He rolls his hips against you. "'M about to burst and we ain't even done nothin, yet. We're just sittin here talkin."

Part of you wants to laugh at that. There's a hell of a lot more going on than just talking.

"I think she's grown weary of conversation, brother," says Ezra.

Tommy chuckles again. "Ya think?"

"Yeeeeep," Ezra groans and stands from his chair. "And you did promise to show her how pretty she was."

"I sure did, didn't I?"

Ezra walks over and stands in front of you. You feel surrounded--caged in. But not unsafe. "Whatchu thinkin', angel?" Ezra cradles your face in his big hands. He leans close enough to you that the whole rest of the back porch disappears. "Want me to get you ready for Uncle Tommy?"

Oh fuck. Does Ezra mean what you think he means? "O-Okay," you say.

"Good girl." He grins briefly before his eyes go wide and serious again. "Uncle Tommy's big. I don't want you gettin hurt."

You nod. "Okay."

Ezra sinks to his knees before you. He reaches for your waistband and you lift your hips as he tugs your shorts down and off your legs. "Mm-mmm," hums Ezra, staring between your thighs. "Our little niece is pretty everywhere." His large fingers poke and prod at your lips. "She's wet, too." He spreads your pussy apart with both hands. "Soakin," he says.

"Is she now?" Tommy says. His breathing's picked up. Both his hands back on your chest. You can feel his whole body rolling into you, even if just in the smallest way. Ezra's touch has you responding in kind.

Ezra's head tilts upward with his fingers still on you. "Remember that job on Breyer street? The house with all those cat paintings?"

Tommy stills a moment. "... y-yeah?"

"Remember how that faucet on the side of the house wouldn't stop leaking?"

"...yeah?"

"That's about what she looks like right now."

Tommy laughs and holds you close, grinding against you. "Fuck, man. You can't be sayin shit like that to me, man. What the hell?"

"I am merely trying to be honest with you," says Ezra with a shrug. He thrusts two thick fingers inside of you with one hand and with the other, he rests his thumb against your clit. Unmoving. Simply applying pressure as you and Tommy's bodies move together.

"Oh my god," you moan as Ezra's fingers stroke inside you and Tommy whispers in your ear.

"'S Uncle Ezra makin you feel good, sugar? 'S he touchin you just right?"

"Mm-hmm," you whimper. "So good. So good."

"You feel how pretty we think you are, honey?" asks Tommy.

"And it's not just because you're our favorite little niece," says Ezra.

"That's right," says Tommy. "'S because it's a fact, sugar." Tommy grunts. Ezra's fingers squelch inside your wet walls. "It's a fact that you're the prettiest goddamn thing we've ever seen."

"Our pretty little angel inside and out," Ezra says with a smirk as he adds a third finger inside you.

"Oh fuck" you moan and writhe.

Tommy chuckles. "Even if she got a dirty mouth on her."

Ezra laughs, too. "Oh she's filthy."

"Is that right?"

"I-I don't know." Your dizzy with desire. You're surprised you can register anything they're saying to you.

"How 'boutchu get that filthy mouth on Uncle Ezra's cock while Uncle Tommy gets inside this pussy, huh, sugar? How's that sound?"

"Yeah, okay," you slur.

Ezra pulls his fingers out of you and stands. Tommy scoots you forward so he can undo his jeans. He and Ezra situate you so that your feet are on the floor with your ass hovering above Tommy's lap. Your hands grip the arms of Tommy's chair. Ezra pulls his own cock out of his pants and it bobs in front of your face.

You and Tommy both hiss as he pierces your cunt. Ezra was right. Tommy is big.

"Shit, man. You didn't tell me it was like this--" Tommy chokes out through panting breaths.

You bite your lip and groan.

Ezra chuckles as he strokes himself. "I tried, brother, but some things are best experienced for yourself."

"You got that right," says Tommy. He moans and curses as he guides you up and down his shaft, providing you with the rhythm and speed.

Once you feel steady enough, you open your eyes and Ezra's cock is hard and ready for you. You open your mouth, eager to hold its weight on your tongue. He doesn't thrust or move--merely lets your rhythm on Tommy's lap provide all the back-and-forth action.

"You're doing perfect, angel," says Ezra as he caresses your cheek. You've given him much better blowjobs before but he's looking down at you like you're giving him the high of a lifetime. "You look so pretty."

"Prettiest fuckin thing we ever fucked," grunts out Tommy.

"Play with that clit and she'll cream all over ya," says Ezra.

"Goddamn," curses Tommy. And he does what Ezra says. He reaches one hand around and presses hard against your clit. Four fingers rubbing back and forth just above where his cock is thrusting in and out of you.

Syrupy warmth begins to flood between your legs and seconds later your spasming between the two men--thighs twitching and toes curling.

Tommy curses again. "If she wasn't my favorite niece before, she sure as shit would be now."

"Told ya," says Ezra.

Tommy continues to thrust into you as you bounce onto him. "Yeah, suck his cock. Suck Uncle Ezra's cock, sugar."

Ezra does his best to keep his cock inside your mouth, but he doesn't seem too concerned about your performance there. It seems to be enough to watch you getting fucked so hard by your Uncle Tommy. Hearing your thighs slap each other and his cock squelch inside you is like music to Ezra's ears and dick. And your whimpers--goddamn!--you got the prettiest little whimpers he's ever heard in his life. Add in Tommy's desperate grunts and Ezra's careening toward the edge and nearly sent over it. He has to take a step back to get control of himself.

Without Ezra's cock to muffle you, your whimpers turn into shouts and Tommy grits his teeth. "Where do I cum?" asks Tommy through strained breaths.

"Fill her up, brother." Ezra's eyes sparkle at you. "Then I'll take my turn inside our pretty little pussy."

Tommy curses some more. He wraps his arms around you and taps on your clit, hoping to make you come along with him. And you do, it's hard not to. His thrusts were hitting all the right spots in your inner walls and Ezra's standing in front of you and watching you with tender focus. Your legs twitch and your toes curl all over again.

"Alright, now, hold it all in, angel," says Ezra with a stern expression on his face and you know what he means. You reach between your legs as Tommy pulls out and you do your best to keep all his cum inside you.

Ezra sits and then lies down on the floor, his cock hard and at attention. He waves you over with the flick of his fingers. "Come ride your Uncle Ezra, baby. Come show me how it's done," he says.

And something animalistic has been triggered inside of you as Ezra casually reclines on the hard wood floor. His elbows are bent and his head rests in both hands. He dons a simple smile and it almost drives you crazy. You want him as desperate for you as you are for him. You want him aching and writhing for your touch. He's been too relaxed this whole time and you almost hate him for it.

Tommy's cum is beginning to seep from between your fingers so you hustle to sit on Ezra's cock. Ezra's facial expression doesn't change as you sink onto him--but you notice the way his hips curl ever so slightly into you. He's holding back and you wanna make him give in. But you know Ezra, just as much as he knows you. And riding him how he likes it isn't going to get you anywhere. He wants you to use him--make yourself come by whatever means necessary. And that is certainly something you can oblige by.

So you do. Your hands grip his chest and you find the right angle that allows you to roll your hips into him with your clit pressed against his skin. You decide to take. You take and take and take your pleasure from him--you don't give a shit what makes him feel good. This one's all about you. And eventually he does give in. You see the way he grits his teeth and bites his lip. His hands fly to your waist, but you don't let him guide you at all. This is your ride and your orgasm. Even if you've already had two and Ezra's yet to have one.

But it was just what Ezra wanted--he was getting off on you getting off and some kind of feedback loop developed into both of you getting off and your panting and he's snarling and then suddenly there's another burst of hot liquid inside of you and seeping out of you. And you don't know it, yet, but Ezra loves when all the juices and cum are soaking his lap and he's filthy with the remnants of a well-and-good fucking. And if he could suck his own dick after all of it, he would. But instead, he pulls you up his body and has you sit on his face and he gives your pussy the most tender and loving kiss with tongue and all. All while your trembling and dizzy from overstimulation.

Once you finally take a moment to breathe. You find Tommy watching with lazy, tired eyes from his chair, his own cock already tucked back in. But there's a smirk on his face that tells you he appreciated the show you and Ezra just gave him.

"Alright, angel," says Ezra with a messy mouth. "Let's go put you back to bed."

------

a/n: wow. so horny. jesus christ.

tagging: @neverwheremoonchild @xdaddysprincessxx 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

[lomltrentarnold]

❛ pretty dimples. ❜ — trent alexander-arnold

‣ hana’s notes : hey baes!!! this is my first trent work and i hope yall like this <33 this is just full of fluff bc he deserves the absolute world 🫶

MAIN MASTERLIST

━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━

thinking about poking trent’s dimples because you were bored . . .

you would assume that you would be busy on a saturday, but that has proven wrong when you had no plans but to stay in with your boyfriend.

it was a quiet day for you too. slow, and oddly domestic.

as your boyfriend sat across from you on the couch, a controller in hand with his sheer focus was on the game playing, you cant help but admire him.

the feeling of papers on the tips on your fingers should’ve really brought you back to reading. it really should have. but instead, you were focusing on trent.

his dimples, specifically.

he’s pretty, that part was obvious. he’s a pretty boy. sometimes you think he’s prettier than you. (he is.)

but those dimples.

just takes it to a whole new level.

with your book long forgotten, you slowly moved to sit next to trent. thighs brushing as your hand softly caressing his.

“you alright, love?”

you quietly hummed out a response, his voice filled your heart with warmth and sending your pulse into overdrive.

he turned to look at you on his side, doe eyes looking at each other full of adoration. he sent you a warm smile that enhanced the slopes of his dimples and you feel light headed starring at him.

you didn’t even think about doing it but the next thing you know, you finger was poking one of trent’s dimples.

trent eyes widened a little, confused at your sudden behaviour, “what you doin’?”

you ignored his question, “your dimples are so cute.” you sighed dreamily, “i love them so much.”

trent could feel his cheeks heat up at your words. the way you spoke with such sincerity and fondness made his heart rate pick up.

cause there’s no way this gorgeous person in front of him just said that.

“thank you, baby.” he coughed out, flustered. turning back to his game, trying to stop himself for forming the biggest grin on his lips. “yer cute as well.”

you softly laughed at his reaction, and plant a soft kiss on his cheek, “my pretty boy.” you cuddled to his side, softly wrapping your arms around his. letting his perfume invade your senses.

trent kiss the top of your head as a comfortable silence blankets over the both of you.

its always like this with trent, easy, slow, comfy, homey. he feels like home and you love it.

reblog to support!

[moralesmilesanhour]

mad props! 04

summary: in the week leading up to the show, your grades begin to slip. whatever will you do... word count: 1820 a/n: hiii i rlly enjoyed writing this chapter bc some of the stuff in here has definitely happened to me lmao. if you feel up to it, reblog and tell me what your favorite song from any musical is in the tags! songs mentioned: 'Chip On My Shoulder' - Legally Blonde the Musical (Original Broadway Cast Recording) prev next

“Max, you’re a little flat, hun.”

The choir director pulled her shawl tightly around her as Max–the chosen casting for Emmett Forrest–ran through some of his sung lines for ‘Chip On My Shoulder’. 

The brown-skinned, dark-haired boy was an excellent actor; he breathed life into the words on the script and delivered them with all the earnestness and humor required to play Emmett. Hell, he even improvised his own jokes.

But he couldn’t hold a note to save his life. 

For some lines, Max could get away with half-singing, half-talking, but he was practically tone-deaf once the song got more involved. The choir director–Ms. Johnson–had to be called in to help get him somewhere that was at least within the ballpark of the correct pitch. His high notes remained painful to all present in the room, no matter what she did.

You huffed from your spot on the fake park bench, resisting the urge to scratch your scalp beneath the itchy wig. Everyone had heard the exact melody on the piano by now. Hear it, sing it. Like Spanish vocabulary, you couldn’t comprehend how people got that sort of thing wrong.

Harmonizing with Max went about as expected; you lost your place several times because of the distracting dissonance between your voice and his, like hearing a parrot and an eagle squawk at the same time.

Regardless, it was too late to recast Max now. He had a leading role with too many songs and lines to memorize. 

“Alright, take five!” the director yelled with a clap of her hands. 

A collective sigh could be heard as students dispersed for their well-earned water and bathroom breaks, the tension in the air dissipating. You stepped carefully off of the stage, when you heard a snicker in your direction.

Miles was in the middle of painting a cardboard sorority building in an obnoxious shade of hot pink, shaded with strokes of fuchsia and cyan that managed to work together somehow. You frowned at the fact that you couldn’t say anything bad about it.

The boy struggled to hold back a laugh, looking up as you stood over him with crossed arms.

“Something funny?”

Miles stood to meet your eyes, carelessly wiping bits of paint onto his pants.

“That frumpy-ass 613 wig you got on, for one,” he replied with a teasing grin. “Are you gonna wear that for the actual show?”

You rolled your eyes.

“No, for your information, I’m not. This is a placeholder wig,” you ripped it off of your head for emphasis. “Why are you even here, anyway? Don’t you got posters to make?”

In actuality, you knew about the art club lending some of its members to paint sets for the show. But you wanted to make sure Miles knew he was unwelcome.

“Just doin’ what I do best,” he shrugged. “You should be grateful for my sacrifice.”

You snorted, “What ‘sacrifice’?”

Miles jabbed his thumb behind him towards the left side of the stage, where Max was going over his lines. “I gotta listen to that nigga sing for over an hour. I’m sacrificing my time and my ears.”

Despite yourself, you laughed brightly at the comment, causing a more genuine smile to spread across Miles’ face. You looked pretty when you laughed.

“Oh my god, he sucks, right? Spent the whole damn song looking for the note.”

“Too late to replace him now, though. Show’s in two weeks.”

You nodded.

There was a brief pause before Miles asked, “So what made you sign up for theater? I was kinda surprised to see you on a stage.”

You gave him a wary look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he raised both hands in defense, “You just seemed like more of the quiet type, that’s all.”

I signed up to avoid you, you thought, but didn’t say aloud; That would’ve given him the satisfaction of knowing that you thought about him that much.

Instead, you answered, “I used to do theater at my old school. Got the lead part most of the time, if you can believe it.”

There was an arrogance in your voice as you said that last bit that soured Miles’ expression. 

“I believe you, no need to convince me,” he said flatly. “Legally Blonde’s an interesting choice, though.”

You shrugged, “The part really lets me show my voice off, so...”

“Showin’ off,” Miles muttered beneath his breath, “Sounds like you.”

“Excuse me?”

Before you could start to argue, his eyes went wide, like he’d just heard a noise that no one else could hear.

“It was really nice talking to you, Y/N, but I gotta go,” he said, spinning on his heel and bolting towards the auditorium door. “Watch my stuff for me!”

Your jaw dropped in offense. Was he allowed to just bail on a club activity like that? And with the gall to ask you to watch his things for him. You totally did, though.

Once you got home, your feet throbbed and your muscles ached from all of the choreography. You were just barely out of your school uniform when you decided to lie down for a quick nap. Or what you thought was a ‘quick nap’.

The blaring of your alarm made your heart jump as your eyes flew open, half of your face damp with drool. The early morning washed over your room in a pale blue shade, and the sight would’ve relaxed you if not for the sudden realization that you weren’t in your pajamas.

You shot up, wiping the side of your face with your sleeve. Your Spanish and AP Physics notebooks were still strewn across your bed, along with several worksheets that had remained blank. Unfinished.

…Oh no.

Your heart was practically in your throat when you explained to Mr. Sanchez why you didn’t have any homework for him to collect. 

The man noticed your glassy eyes, and held up a reassuring hand in the middle of your frantic explanation.

“That’s fine, it happens,” he said gently, “Just bring in the missing work tomorrow, and it’ll only be ten points off. Don’t make it a habit.”

He adjusted his glasses, and returned to grading the pile of worksheets on his desk as you trudged back to your desk, a pit forming in your stomach over those precious ten points.

“You good?” Miles asked as you sat down, concern coloring his features. He ran a finger over a small band-aid on his right temple. “You look like you’re about to cry.”

You buried your face in your arms on the desk.

“Nunya.”

He sighed, “I dunno why I even asked.”

Unfortunately for both you and Mr. Sanchez, missing assignments did, in fact, become a habit. 

You began to spend more time lingering in the auditorium after everyone had left, practicing your line delivery. Adding little details, like extra hair flips or twirls. The spirit of Elle Woods had practically taken over your body.

You got home later and later into the evening, sometimes flopping down onto your bed and falling asleep before your head could even hit the pillow. This new ‘habit’ had you scribbling down vocab words and formulas in a frenzy, balancing your notebook on your lap on the bumpy bus ride to school. The flashcards that you had made for Mr. Sanchez’s class were now sitting untouched at the bottom of your bag.

By Friday, it landed you in front of his desk for office hours after you received your very first ‘F’. 

“As you’ve probably noticed, Y/N, your grades have fallen a significant amount in a very short period of time, and I’m a little concerned,” Sanchez slid your weekly grade report towards you and placed his finger on your Spanish grade. “What’s going on? This is very unusual for a student like you.”

Your sweaty fingers clutched the sides of your seat as you stared down at the report. How did you let it get this bad? Elle Woods would never.

“I-I just…”

You shook your head. “I’ve just been busy with extracurriculars and stuff, so assignments slip my mind sometimes.”

“You’re having trouble balancing them with your schoolwork?”

“Yeah, basically,” you leaned forward, looking desperate. “Can I still re-take that quiz? I didn’t really get to study, and–”

“Oh! That’s actually what I called you in for, one second.”

Sanchez rose from his seat, and made his way over to the door.

“You know about our Study Buddy system, yes?”

You nodded slowly, skeptically. “Am I getting a ‘Study Buddy’?”

“Pre-cisely. Come in!”

He opened the door, and you almost groaned audibly at the lanky figure that appeared at the entrance.

Miles entered with a friendly smile on his face that dropped the second his eyes landed on you.

“Oh. You.”

The Spanish teacher sat back down and gestured towards him.

“Miles here is both a native speaker and beyond proficient in this class. He was so kind as to sign up for the program, so I thought it might be nice to pair him up with someone in the same period.”

Shocked into silence, you were unable to say anything other than a quiet “Okay” as you stared blankly in front of you.

Study buddies. With the guy who didn’t even study. This had to be some kind of sick joke.

“He’ll be giving up a bit of his lunch time to tutor you in my classroom. I’d also highly recommend you two study with each other after school as well, if you can make the time. Sound good?”

“Yes,” you both said in miserable unison. 

“Well, that’s all,” Sanchez waved his hand. “You’re both dismissed. Have a lovely weekend!”

“You too!” you smiled tightly as you got up and made a beeline for the door, nearly bumping into Miles as you did so. 

Your weekend would be anything but ‘lovely’.

You fixed Miles with a glare as soon as you got out into the hallway.

“I’m not giving up my lunch period for you,” you yell-whispered. “I hope you know that.”

He took a step towards you and fired back, “Neither of us have a choice, your highness. If we’re not both up here during lunch, I get in trouble, and you gotta take the L and fail this class.”

“I’d rather fail, then. I don’t give a fuck.”

“Oh?” he laughed mirthlessly. “You were in tears over a damn ‘89’. Makes no difference to me, but I think you do give a fuck.”

You opened your mouth to shoot back a rebuttal, then closed it. Miles raised an eyebrow.

“I’m lying?”

“...No.”

Miles leaned forward until he was only inches away from your face. “Then cooperate. Or we both lose.”

You sighed in defeat, “Fine.”

He nodded curtly, then left to go grab his things from his locker.

In a forced attempt at courtesy, you called out towards his back, “See you next week–”

“Whatever!”

taglist (comment to be added!): @vhstown @alaoraangelix @shuna-boin