#responsible for that. whining about a thing you refuse to do and can only be done BY you is! frustrating and annoying!

[ilikeyoshi]

ppl like "i have to use ay-eye bc i can't drawwwww :(" ok whose fault is that. i can't draw either u know who's fault that is?? mine!!!! it isn't a bad thing but if i am unwilling to learn to draw that is Exclusively My Fault buddy!!!! if u refuse to practice that is, in fact, a you problem!!!! that's fine!!!! but u dont get to pretend u HAVE to use ay-eye bc an Uncontrollable Force prevents u from learning to draw!!!! u could just Go Learn!!!!

[robo-writing]

Logan with a virgin reader, expecting her to be this shy nervous little thing only to be met with a woman who’s spent too much of her life with only her imagination to keep her company. Suddenly he’s the one nervous because you’re so eager to fuck him and you’re begging him so nicely that it’s hard for him to remember you’ve never actually done this and he has to be responsible. You whine the entire time he’s stretching you out with his fingers, hands grabbing at him and pleading with him to replace his fingers with his cock and god damn it, you’re making it really fucking hard for him to focus.

You’re both bare, losing your clothes somewhere between the living room and the kitchen. The feeling of skin against skin drives you wild, makes you plead for the cock that’s throbbing against your thigh. You know he wants this just as bad as you do, you can feel how bad he wants this, but he settles for spreading you apart on his fingers.

You know you’re testing his patience but you don’t care; not when you grind against him, not when his cock glides against your bare pussy, not when he pins you to the bed as your back arches off it.

“Stop moving,” he begs, over and over. “Stop it, stop—stop fucking moving.”

You’re killing him; every time you look at him with those darling little doe eyes he can feel what little self-restraint he has left crumbling apart, every whine and moan and please Logan, gimme more testing his resolve.

“You need to stop,” he begs, head falling forward as your cunt wets his dick, sliding against his length but refusing to push forward and take you. You shake your head, pull him in for a kiss that’s anything but demure, lust pouring from your tongue as you lick at his mouth.

“Don’t wanna,” you gasp, pulling him closer by his shoulders. Between each kiss you see his control waning, feel his hands bruised your skin, taste the depravity between his teeth. Slowly but surely you see his mask slipping away, a beast in disguise of a man, one that desperately wants to claim you as his.

A sick part of you wants that; to submit yourself, bare your neck against its fangs and beg for more when its teeth pierce your skin. You want to give yourself to Logan—all of him, even the parts that he himself doesn’t want to show you. You want your first time to be just as enjoyable for him as it is for you—which is why you bring his hand to your stomach, to where his dick would leave an outline. You hold his hand firm as he stares with lust-blown eyes just imagining how full of him you’d be, in awe at just how willing you are to submit.

“I can handle it, you whimper, voice sweet like sin. “Fuck me, please.”

And like that, you’re no longer faced with your loving boyfriend. You’re now face to face with the Wolverine.

He pushes inside your velvet walls, still conscious enough to give you a moment to adjust. The feeling is new, full. Your voice wobbles when his thumb reaches down to circle your clit, just enough to get you to relax as he feeds your greedy pussy inch after inch.

“Y’gotta breathe for me baby,” he rasps into the side of your neck, releasing a breath you never knew you were holding. He rewards your obedience with more of his dick, slowly rocking against you as you start to adjust to the feeling.

“Feels good,” you whisper, stroking his hair. Your eyes are locked with his, lost in his pretty emerald eyes. “You can move.”

“Are you sure?” He asks. “Not sure I’ll be able to stop once I do.”

You know he’s telling the truth, it’s written all over his face. A need to possess you in body and soul, his eyes glued to where you’re both connected with a sickening fascination. You know the actual question he's asking, even if he can't bring himself to say it. Are you sure you want me? You realize he's just as vulnerable as you are, unsure of himself. It's a rarity that Logan ever talks about himself, always focused on you above all. You want to give him a break, want to make him feel as good as he makes you feel, want him to finally stop holding back and let go. So you kiss him, long and deep, and hope that gets the message across. His answer comes in the form of hands on your hips, the deep timbre of his voice radiating from his broad chest. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

[thebreakfastgenie]

You literally posted that chart blaming ppl who abstained from voting and then replied snidely to someone who pointed out that it's victim blaming. You don't want to talk about genocide because you know that you're in the wrong for shaming non-voters

That post has literally nothing to do with Gaza. I didn't even talk about Gaza in response to that comment, I just said that if they truly did not believe Harris was preferable to Trump they had nothing to complain about. If Harris wouldn't be better, then Trump being president is not a metaphorical crime, and therefore there are no victims to blame.

I am shaming non-voters, I'm right to do it and I'll do it again and again and again and again. Choosing not to vote is shameful. I think that even about elections without Donald Trump on the ballot because I have a strong sense of civic duty but it's extra shameful in elections like 2016 and 2024. If non-voters genuinely believe Trump being president is not meaningfully worse than Harris being president, they won't feel shame and they won't care what I think. The problem is that non-voters know they're in the wrong because they can see what's happening as clearly as anyone else. When people ask them "can you honestly say Kamala Harris would [pick anything Trump has done in the last 16 days]?" they never say "yes." Because they can't.

No one wants to actually make the argument that refusing to vote for Harris over Gaza was worth the suffering Trump's election is causing, because it didn't do anything to help Gaza and it didn't pressure Democrats into agreeing with them. The only thing it did was make non-voters avoid feeling bad about voting for Harris. But now they feel bad anyway because they have a sinking feeling that Trump winning is worse. Most of the non-voters now whining wanted Harris to win so they would get the benefits of Harris being president and Trump not being president, but they wanted her to win without their votes so they didn't have to feel bad.

I don't want to talk about Gaza because it's a serious and sensitive topic and I don't feel informed enough to speak about it on my blog, especially when my political posts have been getting thousands of notes. I posted that ask to dissect the insidious pro-Trump rhetoric, not to address the content, and I did not want the piss on the poor website to have a slapfest using people's extreme suffering to score cheap shots at each other in the notes.

The term victim-blaming is for, like, victims of sexual assault and domestic violence. It's not a magic word to avoid taking responsibility ever. Grow the fuck up.

[orphicmusings]

giving a sleepy, overworked viktor head late in the lab..? and because hes so tired he's just dumb and needy....???? (ig somno if you squint)

18+ ᴍᴅɴɪ

“what do i have to do to pull you away from that?” you sighed, practically hanging off the back of your lover’s chair. you took a quick glance at the clock in the corner of the room, soon to approach midnight. viktor answered you with a simple, deflective hum and you rolled your eyes. if he didn’t complain about the exhaustion making his chronic pain flare up, you would have pulled him away from that desk with your bare hands and throw him on the nearest plush surface. you sighed again, a little louder this time, a little pointed.

“am i boring you, love?” he rasped, exhaustion heavily coating his voice and thickening his accent.

“you really can’t take your eyes off that thing for just a second?” you leant down over his shoulder, exasperatedly nodding toward his project. “not. one. second.” he answered, not even raising his eyes to meet yours, focused entirely on scribbling down what looked to be an equation.

oh. you took that as a challenge.

wordlessly, you gently nudged the wheels of his chair away from its place flush against his desk. he barely noticed, only giving you a slight furrow of his thick brows. you rounded the chair in front of him and slowly sank to your knees. “not one second?” you tilted your head coquettishly. at your words, he allowed himself to spare a glance at you, kneeling before him, under his desk. his breath hitched in his throat, trapping his response in his chest. a glance was all he could afford if he wanted to focus. even in the dim lamplight, you could see the faintest brush of pink across his cheeks. smirking triumphantly, you carefully reach up for the zipper of his pants. he loudly clears his throat when he feels your fingers so close.

“darling.” he called as a warning, stopping short in his work but still refusing to tear his eyes off of it.

“you want me to stop?” you asked earnestly, though you were sure you already knew the answer. he fixed you with a look. a permissive look, but a firm look, like an ‘i can’t resist this but i also won’t endorse it’ kind of look. you bit down on your grinning lip and pulled his pants down entirely. you could feel him tensing his muscles under your hands, willing himself to keep his focus on his work. you slowly pulled his cock from his constraints, giving it a single kiss on the head.

a soft groan rumbled in his throat, one hand dropping his pen and moving to cover his mouth. he could not look at you. he could not look at you. if he looked at you, he’d be done for the night, his brain would be absolutely fried and, oh, goddammit. your cheeks are hollowed, pretty plump lips wrapped around him, mischievous eyes glinting up at him. “fuck.” he groans again, closing his eyes and letting them open in your direction, finally. you braced your hands on his thighs, making sure to dig your nails into the pillowy flesh of his good leg. you finally got those pretty whines to come out. “evil…” his chest rises and falls heavily with each labored breath, becoming more and more ragged the more you fill your mouth with him. “evil woman.”

you giggle as much as you can with him on your tongue and it vibrates oh so good around him, causing him to toss his head back and whimper, “please…” one hand blindly reaches for your hair, gently tangling his long fingers in your locks, guiding you. oh, you’ve got him now. “oh, god, please don’t stop…” you will yourself to take him as deep as you can, and he hisses as he feels his cock hit the back of your throat. he opens his eyes to check on you, pulling you off for a moment. he takes the brief respite to tilt your chin up and give you a few quick kisses, babbling things like sweet girl and i love you so much and i’m sorry for neglecting my poor little darling and i could never say no to that pretty face in between. you can’t help but giggle at his sleepy verbage, more mushy than usual.

“that’s cute.” you take his hand off your chin, threading your own fingers through his. looking at his achingly hard cock. “i wasn’t done, though.”

he gives you one of his cocky, lopsided smiles and pats his lap. “no, no you weren’t.”

[timmydraker]

Tim had a jumper that doesn’t seem all that special, but to Alfred, Bruce and Dick is incredibly important. Dare they say vital to caring for Tim.

It’s a big wooly thing, once a pale mossy green but now with a hint of brown and white from fading and use. It’s too big for him to the point that the sleeves have to be bunched up when worn and even than they hang over his hands.

It looks like a dress on him, which isn’t help but his naturally slim build.

The jumper is held in such high regard because when Tim puts it on it means that he’s not feeling like he usually does.

His confidence, his snark, his wit, and his mental strength is either hard to reach or impossible.

Tim, in the only instance he actually talked about what was going on when he wasn’t wearing the jumper, said he felt both like a tiny little fish in a giant pond and like his skin was a sheet of paper.

Bruce talked to Dinah about it and said it was most likely a form of mental regression, but Tim refused for it to be called him being ‘little’ or anything that would remind him of being a kid again.

Because he doesn’t act like a kid, but maybe it’s not right to associate Tim Drake with a normal child behaviour pattern. He doesn’t babble or whine or want to watch kids shows like Dinah had suggest he might, but he does go non verbal or only say one or two words in response to pretty much anything.

He puts his jumper on and will just… sit there.

Tim is always moving or thinking, always doing, but when he gets in his ‘jumper state’ as Alfred calls it, he tends to slow down completely and just want to sit somewhere warm and feel the fluff of his carefully maintained jumper.

Sometimes, he seeks out warmth outside of heaters and fires and the sun.

It’s on one of those days when Tim stalks down to the Cave with his jumper on, hair messy over his head and hands held up to his chest in an almost shy manner.

Jason notices him first and simply raises an eyebrow in confusion while Damian scoffs, “What on earth are you wearing, Drake? That looks moldy-“

But Tim doesn’t even look at him, eyes on the floor as he goes over to Bruce at the computer and pokes the older man’s shoulder once before retracting his hand.

Bruce immediately turns and opens his arms, an almost heartbroken look on his face as he lets Tim drawl onto his lap and bury his face in the crook of his neck.

“I’ve got you. Anything in particular or just one of those days?”

Tim speaks in a voice like a husk that Damian and Jason only hear because they’ve come closer and sound travels in the cave, “Janet, birthday.”

Bruce Wayne, The Batman, The Caped Crusader, then fucking coos and kisses his head before rocking him slightly.

“That makes sense. Do you need someone here tonight? I can call Dick or stay myself if you need.”

The two other boys in the room look at each other, shocked to hear Bruce say he will give up a patrol to seemingly cuddle someone.

Tim shakes his head, “Alfred.”

Bruce nods, kissing his head again and saying, “Thank you for coming to me so I can help you. I’m so proud of you for not making yourself go through this alone again.”

It’s not exactly a whine that leaves Tim, but it’s not a word that is Bruce’s answer.

Jason comes forward and awkwardly scratches the back of his head, “I don’t really know what’s going on, but can I like… help or something?”

Bruce smiled as Tim nods against him after a few moments, the boy in his arms turning to reach a hand out for Jason and then strangely patting the hand Jason offers up for him.

Damian, not trying to be rude but needing to understand what is going on, clears his throat and demands, “Explain what is wrong with Drake.”

Luckily Bruce had gotten better at understanding how his son communicates and looks to Tim for permission before answering, “Sometimes Tim needs to… be free of responsibility and just feel like a person for a bit. He isn’t always up for talking and just wants to be around people he trust, and me, Dick and Alfred have managed to convince him to actually come to us when he needs that.”

Bruce smiles at where at where Tim is holding Jason’s hand and swinging it around a bit before feeling over the rough calluses and thick fingers with apparent joy.

Damian frowns a little at his father’s explanation but nods regardless, “Very well, we shall set up the family room for the evening before we head out for patrol.”

Bruce smiled and pulls Damian’s head over to kiss his hairline as he hears Jason mutter, “Weird little guy, aren’t ya?”

Tim hums and pinches his finger and smiling at his older brothers yelp.

[dmitriene]

Jsyk your guidelines say they're closed, so probably why no one's requesting.

Anyway, pervert konig? Standard stealing your lingerie and pretending like he has no idea how it's under his pillow or in his hands or in his drawer. Tripping over himself to help you apply sunscreen or lotion or wash your back, anything to feel your skin.

cw: perversion, reader into it, disgusting stuff maybe.

könig is a right perv, and he can't really do anything about this fact, he tried really hard to restrain this unfamiliar desire and unquenchable, almost aching craving, curling deep in his gut and affecting not only his wandering thoughts and fantasies, but also his now always aching cock, stirring at just a little glimpse towards you, it's hard to blame himself when you're always so attractive, gracing him with little smiles and soft uttered greetings, as if on purpose.

though, you have no idea what's happens in the head of your silly roommate, he's just some awkwardly cute man you live with, polite, preferring to stay silent most of the time, either because of all the military thing he gone through, or just because he's not really socially accustomed, a thing that clung to him from the childhood, but you didn't really push for details, he is who he is, and you don't have any problems.

könig can land a helpful hand in cooking, help you with cleaning around the small apartment, he's at your side even if you struggle with something personal, your head and body aching from pushing too much through your own life, and his eyes all wide and concerned, saxe blues gazing at you when he tilts his head in front of your face, gravelly, heavy with accent words asking what made you so sad, as he fidgets with his hands, nervous, yet so caring.

maybe, he gets mixed signals because of how sweet you are towards him, you can't blame the poor guy, he doesn't often gets that close to people, and you don't refuse könig's calloused, rugged touch when he moves you by the curve of your waist from his way, or digs his meaty fingers in the achy muscles of your shoulders, making your eyes flutter up at him, a pitched, honeyed spoken plea not to stop pouring from your lips, forcing him to swallow down a groan.

könig really, really shouldn't use your kindness like that, sneaking into your room and plucking the first panties he can feel from the drawer of your closet, stuffing them in the pocket of his sweats like a last coward on the earth, stalking back to his own room high on his toes both from excitement and a dull throb his cock gives in response, already soaking pre through the fabric of his boxers.

fisting his rudy, swollen cock through the flimsy, cotton panties, soiling them with endlessly leaking precum and repeatedly spurts of cum, going more watery by the time, even with his tip so so rudy and sensitive, veins webbed all over the girth, thick and bulging, but he can't stop bucking his hips in tight coil of his fist, whining and almost sobbing at the intense, searing pleasure, babbling your name under his nose strained and desperate.

you find them couple of days later, when deciding to do a general cleaning and refresh the laundry, digging your hands in the basket and scooping up everything you can grab, except, some of the small things, like socks, tops and underwear, always manage to fall beneath your feet, so after getting your hands empty, filling the washing machine, you bend down and pick up what managed to escape.

curling a finger in your panties, you catch up on the sight of the gusset all crumpled, soiled milky with dried, crusting cum, and you know, for sure, that it's not your trick, there's no one to be blamed except the man you've gone comfortably familiar with, high and muscular, having those adorable, trusting eyes, a person you can rely on, ending up being such a pathetic perv, yet, somehow, your tummy suddenly flutters.

you don't fear to confront him about it, könig was just right busy sorting his own clothes in the room, checking what needed to be refreshed, when the door bangs abruptly behind him, and he turns around a little surprised, immediately meeting to face your panties, that same, ruined pair, now hanging off your finger, proof of his guilt, and he can't utter a word except a hitched gasp, bright flush high and feverish on his cheekbones, voice stammering.

normally, you should have shouted at him, kicked him out, maybe even called the police, but könig get's punished by your own hands, with his knees digging into the rough floor surface of his room, your form sitting on the edge of his comfortable bed, legs spread wide, obscene, to show him how you finger your cunt beneath your underwear, leaving him looking.

panting and whimpering at the squelching sounds, unable to see your tight, soppy hole, because he's been naughty, deciding to steal and act like a pervert instead of telling you about his silly crush, so now, könig would sit obediently like one, just looking as you wrench an orgasm out of yourself by crisscrossing your fingers, chastising him with breathy moans, watching through lidded eyes how he rolls his hips and gazes inseparably between your twitching thighs, fascinated and utterly struck.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[esote-rika]

derision as prelude to desire | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Waldorf!Reader

Category: smut 18+ MDNI, fluff if you squint

Summary: Spencer Reid’s new coworker is mean but one night doing overtime together leads to the two of them bonding.

Content: glasses!Spencer, workplace rivals if you squint, Spencer Reid vs technology, reader is kind of mean and based on Blair Waldorf (in background, looks, and personality), Spencer is petty, his mind is in the GUTTER, use of eye drops, making out, sub!Spencer, fingering, oral (male receiving), whining and begging glasses!Spencer. Let’s pretend the BAU doesn’t have any CCTV cameras for this one m’kay thanks

Word count: 3.6k

A/N: This is an ITCH in my brain, like I’ve been thinking about a Spencer Reid x Blair Waldorf crackship since August last year it’s actually concerning. One of my favorite ship dynamics is loser boy x popular girl, so it makes sense. Still in second person to make it immersive. This isn’t a crossover, so there will be no spoilers for Gossip Girl. The reader's personality, looks and background are just based on Blair. Let me know if you want to read more of this dynamic because I have so many ideas for it oh my god. I hope you enjoy it!

Spencer Reid often muses on the series of events that had brought you from the streets of the Upper East Side to work in Quantico, Virginia. It would be easy to ask, of course, or even have Penelope do a quick background check on you, but he’s made a game of it instead, piecing together what he knows of your history, filling in the blanks of what would have gone wrong, what decisions you would have taken, in order to leave the privileged life you led and enter public service.

As far as he had been concerned, you don’t belong anywhere near the FBI, let alone the BAU. Spoiled, rich, with a mean streak he is all too familiar with from his time in school.  

He had been so sure you wouldn’t fit in when you first joined the team. You had been, and continue to be, perfectly made, every single hair shiny and curled just so, heels always so shiny and matching whatever designer bag you have slung over your shoulder. Everything about you screams high maintenance, and his profiler instincts point to several things: uncooperative, wants everything handed to you, ditzy.

But then you had shown your cards, had proved his assessment so wrong and he could never forgive you for the sting of that defeat.

It doesn’t help that you seem to enjoy riling him up as well. Every case is an opportunity to one up him, an attempt to claim his spot and it’s unfair. You already have everything, yet you still refuse to yield the title of team genius to him, the one thing he can cling to, the thing he knows is his. 

He is still glowering today, four months into your employment, passive aggressively hitting the keys on his keyboard. He’s a slow typist, and he’d agreed to write Morgan’s reports for him this week, a favor between friends he’s now beginning to regret. You are the only one keeping him company. The rest of the team has already left hours ago, but you’re typing away at your desk, fingers flying through the keyboard without even a glance. His own skills seem laughable in comparison, going at the keys one by one, with the speed of an old grandparent squinting over a typewriter instead of a man in his twenties. 

“Take a picture, Reid, it’ll last longer.”

He blinks, forcing his eyes back to the monitor. “You’re so original.” he mutters, pushing his glasses up to nestle on top of his head. He rubs his eyes, already despising the glare of the screen.

“Aw, what, the genius can’t handle a little blue light?”

He doesn’t bother with a response, blinking at the screen instead. The sooner he can get this done, the sooner he can leave. Sounds of tapping keys fill the air again, but he stops after a few moments again, rubbing at his eyes. He hears a sigh, and then your voice again, haughty but somehow concerned.

“You’re not supposed to rub your eyes, it makes it worse.” 

“I know,” he grumbles, “I don’t need you lecturing me about the importance of eye health.”

“It seems like you do, since you’re still doing it.” you reply derisively. He’d be rolling his eyes if he isn’t too busy rubbing them.

“Here,” you say, “Catch.”

Confused, he lifts his head, only to flinch as something hurls right at him. “What-” it hits his desk, then bounces off.

“Oh, look what you’ve done, genius.”

“You threw it at me.” his lips are pulled into a tight line of disapproval, “A head’s up would have been nice.”

“I did, genius, I said catch. You just have the reflexes of an eighty year old.” your voice is tinged with annoyance.

To his surprise, you’re up and walking to his desk, heels echoing in the empty bullpen. He watches as you gingerly kneel on the ground, bending down, and his eyes grow wide. The image of you bent down like this is surprisingly enticing, your skirt straining against the soft curve of your hips, hair falling down your shoulders like a curtain of the night sky. You’ve gotten close enough that he can smell your perfume, something citrusy and clean, and he subconsciously leans closer.

Mouth dry, he manages to croak out, “What are you doing?”

“Trying to find the damn eye drops.” you snap, an arm extending towards him and for a moment he holds his breath, waiting for contact. Instead, you grab something from the ground, “There it is.” 

He watches as you straighten, lifting your torso upright, but still kneeling in front of him. An image flashes through his mind, your face between his thighs, those large eyes staring up at him, but he banishes it quickly lest his thoughts begin to stir his body. 

“Here, these should help.” You say, finally standing back up and placing the tiny bottle on his desk. A filthy part of him wishes you’d get back on your knees. He catches the tilt of your head, the confusion in your eyes, “Reid. Are you still with me? Has your brain finally short circuited from all those statistics?”

Oh his brain is short circuiting, all right, just from a different cause.

“I’m - yeah.” he replies, and then he rattles off the first thought his frazzled mind could come up with, “Did you know some people have used eye drops as a method for murder? Not these ones, but there are specific brands that contain—”

“Tetrahydrozoline,” you finish for him, “Yeah, I know.”

He blinks. There you go again, proving your intellect, your value, somehow matching his even though he’s pretty sure you are no genius, not in the same way he is. Still, perhaps it’s the late night, or your offer of relief, but the sting of being bested doesn’t resonate tonight. A softer feeling unfurls in his chest, something warm and addictive, something like understanding. He smiles, “That’s right.”

You nod, curls spilling over your shoulders again, “Mhm. Well… These are for your eyes, I’m not trying to poison you.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you.”

A scoff, “Please, I’m not dumb enough to attempt murder in the office.”

His brows lift and he finds himself grinning, “So you’ve thought about it?”

“I will neither deny nor confirm.” you’re smiling now too, and he lets his eyes roam over the pretty lines of your face, memorizing how lovely you look in this moment, guards lowered and smiling at him with ease. He thinks he sees something flash in those pretty eyes of yours but he’s not sure. Reading people has never been his strong suit, regardless of his profession.

“Come on, I’ll help you.” you gesture at his glasses, and he immediately obeys, pushing it back up to nestle on his hair. He holds his breath as you come closer, bites his lips when your hand comes to his chin. It’s soft, unbelievably gentle, and you tilt his head back. From this angle, he can see the way your lashes curl, the soft hint of shimmer swept across your lids. Eyeshadow, he remembers from what Penelope and JJ have told him, and it highlights the shape of your eyes, making them appear brighter.  

He blinks as coolness hits his eye, and then you’re tilting his head to the other side, and he’s trying not to panic, trying not to be a creep, but in reality, he hasn’t been this close, this intimate to a woman in so long that it’s messing up his ability to inhale, to think, to function. Your hair flutters gently around his face, and the scent of citrus is stronger now, heady, and he feels so light headed he’s afraid he’ll faint.

The same coolness hits the other eye, and before you can pull away, before he can think it through, he’s curling his own hand over your wrist. He lifts it up, pressing a kiss to the inside of your palm, admonishing any thoughts of germs and bacteria, and instead relishing at the tender flesh beneath his lips. He kisses your palm again, lips gently tracing the lines, before moving down to the inside of your wrist, before pausing.

He dares to peer up, waiting for a reprimand, a cutting sentence that would have him lashing back at you, but there’s none. There it is again, the flicker in your eyes, and now he finally knows the word to attach to it: desire.

He kisses the inside of your wrist again, and feels you pulse fluttering beneath his lips. Fast, to his surprise, almost matching the quick succession of thudding in his chest. 

“Reid,” you whisper, and he waits again, allows you time to pull away. You don’t, but he’s apprehensive now, afraid he’s crossed a boundary. He definitely has, but he would do it again if you express the desire to do so, to tumble into whatever this is with him. He just needs confirmation, one verbal acknowledgement that you want this too, because he doesn’t trust his ability to read you yet, not when he’s spent so much time despising you.

But you’re just looking at him, and the embarrassment is almost painful. His cheeks heat up, and he drops your hand.

“I’m sorry.” he murmurs, sinking back on his seat. He’s about to turn to his monitor, intent to forget about this, forget everything even though his memory would make that impossible, but he finds his face being tilted up again, cradled between impossibly soft hands, and then there’s lips against his own, your lips, oh god you are kissing him.

He wraps his arms around your waist, following the movement of your mouth to the best of his limited ability. Your teeth dig into his bottom lip and he lets out an involuntary whimper, his body jerking at the sting. He feels you smiling against his mouth, cocky even in the midst of a kiss, in the midst of the most heated kiss he’s had since - since - he can’t even remember her, the brief dalliance he had with an actress once upon a time, because all he can think of is your mouth, and your hands, nails scratching at his scalp, and every single thought is expelled from his mind when you climb on his lap.

“God,” he moans in between kisses, his breaths ragged, but he would gladly drown in you before stopping.

“Not god,” you correct him and nip at his lower lip with more force this time.

“Mhm.” he whines, and kisses you again, shifting so you’re more comfortable on his lap. He wonders if the chair is creaking from your combined weight, but then you’re grinding directly on his cock and he’s lost in a haze of white hot pleasure. 

Apparently, Spencer Reid cannot multitask, because his lips fall slack as you grind against his hardening cock. Your laughter tinkles in his ear, before your mouth latches on his jaw, down his neck, open and wet and sticky. He knows you said you aren’t god, and he’s never been religious, but he swears this must be heaven. Fitting too, in the same way he’s never thought he’d reach some place he doesn’t even believe in, he’s also never thought he would have you—beautiful, infuriating, untouchable you—grinding on his lap with a desperation that borders frenzy.

Recognizing that your need burns you just as his is making him reckless, he manages to whisper, “Tell me— tell me what to do. How do I make you feel good?”

You giggle, taking one of his hands away from your waist and leading it under your skirt. The fabric has bunched up over your thighs, and he grips the smooth flesh greedily. But you have other ideas, and he’s eager to learn, so he lets you move his hand higher, until the tips of his fingers brush against moist fabric.

His mouth goes dry. You’ve soaked through your panties. 

“Like this?” he dips his fingers past the lace, his mouth falling open at the slick that’s gathered at your core. You have your face buried at his neck, lips and tongue still assaulting the tender skin there, but he feels you nod, feels the shudder that runs through you, and he takes those as a good sign. His touch is exploratory, gentle, fueled by an intoxication over the fact that you’re here and you’re enjoying it, you’re making those sounds for him. 

He’s awestruck rather than cocky, and when he slides his fingers into your pussy, he’s immediately trying to figure out a rhythm that would draw out those pretty noises from your lips. When he finds it, he sticks to it, greedily drinking in your moans, no matter how muffled they are against his neck.

There’s a sense of degeneracy to this whole thing. Fingering his coworker in the office, right there on his desk, he could get fired should this get out, they both could. Still, he’s never truly had anyone want him so unabashedly and he simply cannot stop. You had been the one to kiss him, after all, the lines in the sand had been completely trampled by the time you had climbed on his lap. 

“You feel so good,” you whisper, and he feels you move, riding his hand shamelessly, and he has to bite your shoulder to keep himself from whining again. The sight alone nearly undoes him, and you’ve barely done anything. He’s been actively providing you with stimulation this whole time, fucking you with his fingers relentlessly, and somehow, he wouldn’t change a single thing. 

“Yeah?” he asks, pupils blown wide, wanting, needing the assurance that he’s doing good, he’s making you feel good.

“Yes, oh fuck, yes!” your voice grows sharper as he curls his fingers with every thrust. After a few moments of fumbling with your panties, his thumb presses against your clit and he’s rewarded by another groan from you. 

He draws figure eights against your slick core, finding a rhythm that has you tugging at his hair wildly, and he’s whispering into your ear, pleading, “That’s it, please come for me, please, let me see how good you feel, please, please—”

“Spencer!” you groan, and then you’re shuddering in his lap, and his fingers down to his knuckles are wet with your slick. 

He grins, helping you through your orgasm, pressing kisses to your hair, the FBI issued office chair creaking so much he’s afraid the two of you would break it if you don’t stop. The image is hilarious in its absurdity, making his grin widen, and you must have taken it for arrogance because he feels a slight smack on his shoulder.

“Don’t get cocky.” you mutter.

He takes you in, the flushed cheeks and hazy eyes, mascara now smudged along your lash lines, and he’s reverential instead of arrogant, grateful that he has brought someone so stunning and capable to the throes of pleasure, has taken you apart so much you’ve ruined your normally perfect facade. 

“You’re beautiful.” he tells you, his own eyes glistening with an unfocused daze. You roll your eyes and shake your head, and he’s seized with a desire to keep you hear and bury his fingers inside you over and over again until you believe him.

“Your turn.” You chuckle, hands unwinding from his neck and travelling down the length of his abdomen, coming to the buckle on his belt.

“Wait, I—uh,” he turns beet red once again, clearing his throat, “Are you on the pill? I don’t have—”

You tilt your head, as if the idea of a man walking around without a condom is foreign. Perhaps it is, but Spencer simply never assumed he would have any use for it. He turns away, teeth worrying his lower lip, but you pull his face to you again.

“I have hands.” you say as you resume undoing his pants. You shift, then slink away from him, and he whines at the loss of your warmth, but he sees you on your knees once again, and this time it’s not just his brain making up lewd, inappropriate thoughts, “And a mouth.”

“Y-you really don’t have to.”

“I know,” you grin, pretty as the devil and twice as tempting, and as your hands wrap around his engorged length, thumb circling at the tip, “But how can I not, when you’re this pretty?”

He blacks out, he swears he does, there’s no way this isn’t a perverted dream, no way that you’re actually stroking up and down his throbbing cock. Somehow he comes to, only to feel a warmth, a wetness, enveloping the swollen tip, and his hips buck up instinctively. He whines when your hands push at his thighs, holding him in place. 

“Please,” he gasps, babbles, really, “Please, oh god, that feels so good.” 

You take him further down and he throws his head back so violently the glasses slip past his ears and clatter onto the floor. He feels your laughter vibrating against his cock and it almost has him keening. He whines, wriggles against your hold with no real desire to break free. He finds that likes the force of your hands on him, nails leaving harsh indents on his flesh as he struggles. The pain is delicious, heightening his already frazzled senses.

You bob your head up and down, your hair swaying gently, and he manages to will his hands to move, gathering the soft tresses in his hand so they won’t impede your movement. Your eyes flicker up, meet his own, and he swears there’s a thank you in the glint of them. He cannot do anything else. 

Slack jawed, he watches you hollow your cheeks, saliva dripping down the sides of your mouth as you give him the best head he’s ever experienced. Never mind that it’s his first one, and that he doesn’t have a point of comparison. He’s convinced this is the best, you are the best, and he’s never been more thankful for his eidetic memory until this night, knowing that he cannot, will never, ever forget the way you look as you knelt down and sucked his cock like you were being paid to do it. 

“God, you’re so pretty, oh my god, yes, just like that, please, please, yes.” he’s aware that he’s whining, and there’s an amused twinkle in your eye that tells him he would never hear the end of this after. 

He knows you well enough to know that you would dangle this over his head any chance you get, that you aren’t above playing dirty. Instead of dread, it makes his stomach roil with another gush of desire, and he knows that that is even more concerning than whatever you were going to do.

(It never occurs to him to do the same, that he could tease you back and point out that he has had you on your knees and sucking on his cock like you were made for it simply because his brain cannot fathom ever associating the sight of you kneeling before him as something to be ashamed of.)

He’s drawn from his thoughts as he feels your hands cupping his balls, stimulating an entirely new area that has him thrusting up. He feels his cock brush against the back of your throat, and he pulls back immediately, eyes wide with worry as you gag around his length.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby you can stop if—”

But you do it again, soldiering past your gag reflex and taking him all the way, and he can hear someone saying oh fuck oh fuck I’m cumming agh, please, I’m cumming, and he thinks its his own voice but he’s unsure. His eyes are squeezed shut, colors exploding behind his lids as he feels your tongue swirling over and over his sensitive cock, before the cool air surrounds it, telling him you’ve stopped completely.

When he opens his eyes, you have your head on his thigh, cheek pressed against the fabric, a lazy smile on your ruined lips.

“God,” he whispers, reaching for you, wanting you close, “That was—wow, you—come here, please.”

He watches as a flicker of surprise flits over your face, before you mask it with a giggle, “Good?” you murmur, tucking his soft cock into his pants before climbing on his lap again.

“Incredible.” He holds you tight, your slick only half dry on his fingers, the taste of him still on your tongue, “You’re incredible.”

You’re quiet, contemplative, and he presses a kiss to your neck, wanting to bring you out of whatever funk you’ve gone into, “Hey, what is it?” He’s almost terrified of the answer, worried you would pull away and leave him cold.

“I just didn’t think you’d be a cuddler.” you reply, eventually sinking into his arms. Your voice is soft when you say, “Most men aren’t.”

The thought of her having experiences doesn’t bother him; it’s the fact that they callously left her after that makes him tighten his hold on her. “I’m sorry.”

“For the entirety of shitty men? You’d need more apologies than that,” you chuckle, fingers absently curling into his hair, “But thank you. This is— this is nice.”

“It is,” Spencer nods, leaning into your touch, eyes shut.

“You lost your glasses.”

“I did.”

Your laughter fills the air, “Hey, are you sleepy? You still have Morgan’s reports to finish.”

His eyes flutter open, a sheepish smile on his lips, “Why’d you have to remind me?”

“Because the sooner you finish it, the sooner we can do this again.”

Spencer laughs, kissing your shoulder as he relents, “All right, all right.” That’s more than enough incentive to brave staring at the monitor again.

[hannieehaee]

BITE (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: keeping appearances as an idol was already hard enough, but it becomes even worse upon finding a forlorn jeonghan with need of assistance with the company's faulty security system, instantly becoming endeared with the idol who refused to take no for an answer — not that you'd ever want him to.

content: idol!jeonghan x hybeidol!reader, f2l, meet-cute, very unrealistic schedules for idols lol, jeonghan is a menace, a lot of will they wont they, reader plays hard to get, small age gap implied, afab reader, one mention of the word oppa as a honorific (sorry</3), reader is implied to be international (no specific race, just not born in korea), smut, dry humping, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 1.9k (teaser); 11.7k (full fic)

RELEASE DATE: september 6th

or you can check it out on my patreon today by subscribing!

a/n: wrote this super quickly so it might be a little messy but i really love idol aus so yeah hope u enjoy<3

masterlist

support me through a one time tip<3

"Hey, is that Yoon Jeonghan from Seventeen?", asked Minji as she patted your shoulder, finger pointing towards your right.

"Who?", you wondered, attempting to make sense of the distressed man standing in front of the main artist elevators in the building, "Oh, yeah, I think that's him," you said once you spotted his face, deeming it impossible to not recognize a face such as his.

"Why is he just standing there?", she wondered, holding onto your arm in the affectionate manner she usually did, "Do you think it's that elevator thing again?" she faced you to ask.

"What elevator thing?"

"Apparently he went on a variety show and complained about the company's security system. It was a whole controversy, but I guess the facial recognition doesn't work for him for some reason," she informed you before chuckling at the sight of Jeonghan sighing in defeat at yet another failed attempt at utilizing the aforementioned system, "I thought it was a bit, but I guess he was for real."

"Huh," you hummed, having been unaware of the issue. The system worked just fine for you and all your members, so you never had any motive to question it. Your senior, however, had clear issues with the system. Within the two minutes you had noticed his presence, he had already attempted the facial recognition three times, getting rejected every single one of them.

"You should help him," your groupmate suggested, "I would, but my manager will be here soon for my shoot. You only have rehearsals today, right? You're heading that way anyway."

"What? No!" you declined, "I always get anxious around our seniors. I've never even met him," you added, far too shy to even face the pretty boy during his predicament.

Disconnecting from you, she grabbed onto your shoulders, scolding you, "Dude, just go help him! This is how you make connections. You give him a hand and then he gives you one back," she said, physically turning you around so you could face his direction, hands still on your shoulders, "Go! My ride's probably already here anyways. Good luck," she encouraged as she pushed you forward, making you absentmindedly begin walking towards the boy.

Taking a breath, you began to walk towards the boy who seemed to grow more and more frustrated at the faulty security system. The closer you got, the more you could hear his whines in complaint. It appeared that he had taken up a phone call during the time you'd been talking to your friend, frustratedly arguing with whoever was on the other line.

"Seokminnie, c'mon! Just come down! I'll buy you soju after practice," he whined, groaning at whatever response his groupmate had given him in return, "My manager already left ... Yeah .... No! Stop! Just come down! I'm your senior and- Wait! Don't hang up!", he groaned at last upon hearing the classic sound of a disconnected line invade his ears.

It was only then that he seemed to notice your presence, widening his eyes momentarily before offering you a brief bow to acknowledge your presence. Moving aside, he gave you enough space to stand in front of the elevator, quietly awaiting for you to utilize the security system, likely assuming you had not heard his prior predicament. He gestured for you to move forward, acting as if he were being a gentleman in allowing you to go first.

You approached the small facial recognition screen, about to scan your face before turning to him, finding the boy staring at you expectantly, "You need me in order to use the elevator, don't you?", you asked him, amused.

"Huh?", he gaped at you, tsk'ing afterward and making an odd 'Eyyy' sound, "I'm just being a gentleman. Go ahead," he gave you a tight yet amused smile.

You chuckled in return, "Liar," you were surprised at how easy it was to be informal with him, but he was immediately likable, "Ask me to help you and maybe I might," you added, giving him a satisfied smile.

"You know, I'm pretty sure I'm your senior — Whatever happened to respect?", he joked, tsk'ing at you once more. He proceeded to walk towards you, pushing his face onto the scanner and ignoring your presence altogether, "I'll do it, see," he practically challenged, attempting the scanner once more.

Unsurprisingly, he was met with a red X and a beeping sound that indicated yet another failure to be recognized by the system. This caused him to stand there in silence for a few seconds before whining 'Yah!' and cursing out the security system.

Clearing his throat, he straightened up again, facing you once more, "Sorry about that. Your turn," he gestured to you to move forward again, stepping out of your way.

Both amused and surprised, you decided to finally utilize the scanner on yourself, smiling at him with a satisfied look when it immediately allowed you in. Turning to him, you nodded at him to get in before you, only for him to gesture for you to go first. Something about 'ladies first.'

"You owe me one," you said once you were both in the elevator again, standing side by side as you faced the closing door.

"Nuh-uh. This was just a coincidence. You needed to head upstairs anyways," he rebutted petulantly.

"Yeah? So you don't need me to help you get to your floor, then, right?", you questioned mockingly, knowing he would also have to work the scanner in order to get the door to open to Seventeen's designated floor. There were far too many steps to get to the artists' floors, but it made sense to you by now.

Upon the realization, he groaned, letting himself throw his head back against the wall behind him as he earned a giggle from you. He frowned in your direction at your laugh, though he joined you with a chuckle just mere seconds later.

"Okay, fine. I owe you," he gave up, still leaning against the wall behind but turning his head to look at you, "What can Yoon Jeonghan do for you?"

You pretended to mull over it for a few seconds, finger on your chin as you thought it over, "I have no idea. I'll let you know," you finally responded, "Okay, so, what floor?", you asked as your finger moved to the buttons on the elevator door.

"13th," he responded, now casually leaning back against the wall.

"Oh? The second highest floor. You're an important man, aren't you?", you teased, pressing his button before moving onto your group's number 9.

"Nine?," he gaped, "Seems I'm higher on the company hierarchy than you, yet you show me no respect," he joked back.

"Shut up. I'm going out of my way for you. Senior or not, you owe me. Those are the rules of all civilized society," you argued back.

"Okay, how about," he began, pressing his hands together as if making a proposition, "I see you downstairs every morning bright and early with a fresh cup of coffee in exchange for your face — y'know, for the scanner. How's that sound?", he proposed, a pleased smile on his face at your agape mouth.

"Every morning? Do you not have any friends?", you asked as the elevator continued to move up.

"Do you see anyone here? They all get here before me. You seem pretty friendless. C'mon. Free coffee, good company. I'll even play one of your group's songs in my next Welive. See? Can't get any better than that," he continued to sell his idea as the elevator came to a stop, now at his floor but demanding yet another facial scan to even exit the elevator.

"God, the security's too much," he groaned upon noticing the prompt on the small screen inside the elevator, "C'mon!", he turned to you, "Try to tell me that's not unnecessary."

You gave up, nodding as you chuckled, though not making a move to scan your face.

"Say yes. Please," he dragged the e for an annoyingly long amount of time, grinning when you rolled your eyes but laughed, "I'll keep going. Just agree. What better way to spend your time than with Yoon Jeonghan?"

"What makes you think I even knew that name before today?", you challenged.

"You do. Don't lie to me, it won't work," he smirked back before going back to being annoying again, "Come on-"

"Fine! I'll meet you downstairs every morning expecting a fresh matcha in hand �� I don't drink coffee. But you still owe me," you agreed, extending your hand to him to solidify the agreement.

"No coffee? Ew. But okay, deal," he returned your handshake, holding onto your hand for an annoying amount of time, pretending as if he were unaware of when to let go and waiting for you to pull his hand off yours with another eye roll. He chuckled any time he managed to get a reaction out of you, leading you to realize he must be an absolute menace to every person he comes across. Sadly, he was charmingly entertaining, leaving you with no complaints.

Finally, you scanned your face on the screen, letting him walk in front of you to head out. Before the elevator doors could close and separate again, he held his arm out to stop them, nodding towards you.

"What's your name? I like you," he said plainly, head tilted in curiosity.

"Y/N," you said, "Please don't introduce yourself again-"

"Yoon Jeonghan," he interrupted anyways, "Remember that. We'll be having fun in the near future," were his last words before removing his hand and allowing the elevator doors to separate you, likely heading over to his groupmates upon leaving your line of sight.

Silver doors closed in front of you, now leaving you to your own company. Dumbfounded yet amused by the interaction, you stood there as you waited for the elevator to arrive to your floor, robotically scanning your face on the door once you made it there and exiting the square-shaped room upon arrival. There, you stood with the remnant of a shocked smile on your face, surprised at how easy it had been to put any concept of age or seniority aside when interacting with Yoon Jeonghan. While you always had the tendency of being overly formal with your seniors, you had spoken to Jeonghan like you would any guy your age, disregarding formalities as soon as he'd spoken to you.

You didn't truly need any convincing to agree to see him again. On the contrary, had he not suggested as such, you would've remained with an itch to find a reason for a re-encounter. Like any other junior idol at a company with big names such as BTS and Seventeen, developing a slight crush on your seniors was the normalcy — your groupmates Minji and Lila had crushes on BTS' V and Seventeen's Vernon, respectively — and it appeared that you were now joining them in the list of girls with unrequited crushes.

Jeonghan was, what, maybe five or so years older than you? The age difference alone was enough for you to chalk this up to a mindless crush. That, and the kindergarten teacher voice he had put on while speaking to you — clearly he made a very obvious distinction about your age difference right off the bat.

As of now, all you could do was hope to see him again (which, thankfully, you would) and retain the fun back and forth he'd welcomed you in on. Friendzone was one thing, but junior-zone? At least you now had a story to let your members in on next dance practice.

...

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[backwzzds]

can we talk about how konig would be someone who’s quiet when he gets jealous…then when y’all get home he js absolutely goes HAMMMM….

the way i got so excited to write this…it’s actually way longer than i intended but idgaf! part 2 soon 😏

NO BC YOU LITERALLY WOULDNT GET HOW HE’D BE SO QUIET LIKE ???

“papa, i don’t understand what i did wrong,” you’d frown at your man with an annoyed whine. könig, who was a whooping 6’10 would only give you a heavy grunt in response. you’d be on the way back to his car from the mall, dozens of your victoria’s secret and H&M bags held in his visibly large hand. the moment könig reached before you (with help of his tree-like long legs anyway), he opened the door for you, the balaclava on his face making his features ten times harder.

no matter how mad the big bear was at you—or more so, what you happened to get yourself involved in—he’d never disrespect you. anything other than sexually, at least. stepping on the custom made step for your smaller figure, you slide into the huge seat of his completely blacked out bmw suv, allowing him to shut the door behind you. you nearly jump at the visible shake of the car beneath your bottom.

you play with your curls as könig carefully sets your bags on the floor behind your seat. because his was set all the way back to accommodate for his long legs, your seat had the better amount of space for your things. when könig finally got back in the car, he immediately started it, causing the monsterous growl of his deleted muffler to come alive.

and he wouldn’t even break a sweat at you !!! you’re over here going over all your actions for the day, step by step, and all könig could think through his mind was what positions he was gonna force you in when you two got back home.

the sound of könig’s car matched the energy that was coursing through his veins. he know you didn’t do anything wrong; not intentionally at least. but the selfish ass part of him wanted nothing more than for your pretty little ass to sit in the passenger’s seat, overthinking on what the fuck you possibly could have done to rile him up this much.

the ride home is everlastingly silent as the small of your voice breaks the thick tension, “baby,” you don’t know how to further articulate your words. “i know you’re mad at me. i wanna fix it, but i can’t it you won’t talk to me. and you’ve been dead ass silent since we been in the mall.”

könig keeps his cool, though. he knew his silence was practically eating at you alive, shaming you with guilt for something you didn’t even intentionally mean to do. but with the way your pretty body sits in the black skims dress you’re in, accompanied by your black and white dunks—his eyes could practically frame your nipples right through the see through fabric, and he was sure that fucking doorman at victoria’s secret could have as well.

you keep talking. “was it the dude at VS? i swear, i made it very known that you were my man and—“ your words are endless blabber to him as the disgusting and pervasive thoughts cloud könig’s mind.

he looks so sexy in his balaclava, protecting his face from the harsh upcoming winter temperatures. he’s sported in an all black outfit, helplessly matching yours. anyone who saw you two together would automatically know that was your man. i mean duh, he walks around with his hand on your ass protectively 99% of the time.

when you get the sense that the brute isn’t listening to a fucking word you’re saying, you let out a frustrated sigh and turn your body away from him. but the sudden placement of a large hand on your knee takes you by surprise as you eye the man who’s ice blue eyes refuse to falter from the darkening road before you.

the moment könig pulls up in the driveway of your shared home, you can’t help but twiddle with the polish on your acrylics. anxiousness is bouncing off you, and könig could tell. you turn your head and open your mouth to speak, only to be cut off for the first time that night.

“go inside.” könig’s voice is very low, but you don’t miss the command in it. there’s no emotion behind the dark eyes of his balaclava. usually you could decipher exactly what and how he was feeling, but in the moment—

“kö—“ your boyfriend’s snow blue eyes harden at your talk back. with softer features, you whisper, “will you be inside?”

“soon. need to make a call first,” you watch him pull out a fresh cigar pack. “be ready for me when i get in.” you open your mouth to talk back again, but wire it shut when könig lovingly grabs your face. leaning in so the pink of his lips ghost over your full brown ones, he whispers, “now, mama. i won’t ask again. can you listen to that one thing for me?”

with a small gulp, you give him pretty doe eyes, feeling between your legs tingle at his masculinity radiating onto you. in the most confident voice you could muster up, you nod your pretty head at him. “yes daddy.”

könig gives you a nod of approval and runs his hand along the curve of your ass. “good girl. go on, liebling.”

you exit the huge car, already getting idea of what was to come when könig came back inside. with a heavy heart, you head upstairs to your room and slowly begin undressing, hoping that the slower you went, the more your punishment would be delayed.

your hopes were proven to be false the minute you were completely naked and turned around to see könig leaning against the threshold of the door, silently watching you.

you jump in fear at the sudden sight in front of you, but feel your heart beat calm down when könig strolled over to you. naturally, your head tilted backward as a way to get a full view of his face. his balaclava remained on, so you knew he was still upset about the events from earlier.

könig takes his large hand and rests it on your cheek, giving it a comforting rub. “you know i love you and respect you more than anything on this earth, right?” the brown of your skin instantly heat up at his words as you slowly nod your head at his sudden expression, unsure of where he was going with his words. könig’s lips can’t help but lightly turn upward into a small smile. you had no idea what was gonna come.

“good. because for today, libeling, i’m gonna fuck you like you mean absolutely nothing to me.”

[sweet1delusi0ns]

Playing with naruto boys hair ──☆*:・ﾟ

Slightly suggestive (kankuro ofc)

Characters: Naruto🦊,sasuke🗡️,Itachi🥀, kakashi🍃, kiba🐺, shikamaru🀄️,shino🪲,neji🎋,Lee🥋,choji🍥,gaara⏳,kankuro🪆

Naruto🦊-*

He loves attention so honesty he is down for anything. Weither your petting his head or braiding it he will always rub into your hand like a little puppy😭 he doesn’t beg for you to play with his hair but he never refuses the offer~

You were braiding his hair while he slowly fell asleep, thinking he was already asleep you started to talk to yourself “ ugh your so cute with your fluffy hair” you whisper “tsk, and you think it makes you look like a hedgehog, a cute hedgehog if anything~” then you can hear him giggle and turn a soft pink “oh my god your awake?!” “Hehehehe…yeahhh” “thanks y/n~”

Sasuke🗡️-*

He thinks he’s so tough and mostly it is but when he gets all soft with you late at night all he wants is to cuddle and for you to play with his hair. He just lays on your chest and when you don’t start playing with his hair he will clear his throat in a very dramatic way!

“AEhemHHHH” “…yes?” “Well? Arent you going to…?” “Huh?” “Play with my hair y/n!!!” “Ohhhhh! I knew that I just wanted to hear you say it~” “Y/N!” You giggle at his neediness 

Itachi🥀-*

Straight forward, to the point, just “play with my hair.” And that’s it. He can be very timid but most of the time he’s not ashamed to ask for things!

“Y/n? My darling?” “Yes?” He sits down infront of you “can you play with my hair?” You reach down and kiss his hair softly “of course!” And you drag your fingers through his soft hair you ask “anything else baby?” He whimpers softly at the head massage “I love you y/n…” you giggle “I love you too!”

Kakashi🍃-*

Every time you see his hair down it’s just an urge to go up to him a play with it, it looks so soft honestly! You never have before but one day after he takes a nice shower and walk out with his hair down and freshly dried you just had to ask!

“Why are You staring at me y/n? You think I’m that handsome?~” he teases “well you are handsome but I’m just looking at your hair” “ah why?” “It looks so soft!” “Oh!…want to touch it?” He walks over to you bowing his head in front of you while giving you cute puppy eyes. You reach for a strand of his hair and just as you thought it was soft as silk! “Oh my god what conditioner do you use babe?” He giggles while sitting down next to you, not moving his head away from your loving hand. You sat there playing with his hair for hours!

Kiba🐺-*

He always sees how excited akamaru gets when you pet him so he kinda wondered what if felt like, but he didn’t want to be weird so he didn’t know how to ask. So he didn’t ask!

“What’s up kibaa?” “Hey y/n!!” He lays down on your lap which he does often but this time he did something different “can I have your hand y/n?” “Of course puppy!” He grabs your hand and immediately places it on his head waiting for you to get the hint. “Uh? Heh what are you doing…OHHHHH you want me to play with your hairrr how cutee!!” “Shut up y/n!!! Gosh cant a guy get some pets without being teased.” You laugh at his response. But you gladly gave him all the pets he wanted! (Akamaru was jealous)

Shikamaru🀄️-*

Similar to kakashi, you rarely see his hair down so once you saw him relaxing in bed with his hair down you couldn’t resist

You crawl in bed with him which Suprisingly he didn’t realize, but once you started playing with the ends of his hair he opened his eyes to look at you “uh, what are you doing dear?” “Playing with your hair” “w-why?” “Because I Love You?” “Hm, Ok……can you brush it out while your at it? It’ll get frizzy and I’m to lazy to deal with it” “of course! But only if you don’t whine about it” “be gentle and I won’t whine!” He closes his eyes waiting to feel the brush softly dragging through his hair (for now on he always asks you to brush his hair)

Shino🪲-*

He doesn’t mind what you do to him as long as your happy! I feel like his hair gets frizzy in humidity and your happy to take care of it, kind of like shika. Except he asks you to help not because of the frizz he just secretly likes your hands on his hair

He walks up to you after a fresh shower and hands you a comb, detangle stray and a normal brush. You look up at him a little lost just to see his hair poofy and slightly curled “…do you want me to do your hair?” “Yes I don’t know how” (he does he just wants you to do it) “hm Finee, cmon sit in front of me” you took very nice care of his hair which he appreciated so much. Now most of the time when you play with his hair it just turns into you playing salon with him (LOL)

Neji🎋-*

I’ve said it before he loves it when you play with his hair but he will never ask. Normally he just sits next to you and play with his own hair until you do it for him. He thinks he’s so sneaky when he does it but in reality it’s so obvious he wants your attention

He’s currently braiding the ends of his hair which he never does so you knew what he wanted already “neji what are you doing sweetheart?” “Just braiding my hair” He looks up at you with a small smirk hoping you caught on “oh ok!…may I help?” “YES” “…” “uhm I mean…sure!” He’s not smooth at all but let’s just pretend he is- he just lays on his stomach and let’s you do whatever you want to his long hair. You can put it up in a bun or maybe a ponytail, whatever you pick he just likes the attention!

Lee🥋-*

He also LOVESSSS attention, love and care no matter what! He would just jump onto you and beg for you to pet him! Which you always do, especially after a long day he lovesss ittt

“Y/n-Chan! Please! I would do anything just for you to play with my hair!” You look at him for a while just to soak in his pouty lips and puppy dog eyes, but you took to long to respond so he took it as a no apparently. “PLEASE,PLEASE,PLEASE,PLEASE,PLE-” “YES LEE OK!!” “YAY!” He tucks his head into your hand so you could hold onto his face while playing with his hair, also so he can stare at your beautiful face with love in his eyes

Choji🍥-*

Now this boy has a lot of hair, it’s a like a blanket! So sometimes you just cling to his back and bury your head into his fluffy hair. Other than cuddling into his hair you also love playing with it. One time you put them into two pig tails and he looks ADORABLE! He didn’t take them out the whole day

“Your sooooo CUTEEE AHHH” He is currently twirling his hair which you put into a cute ponytail “ya think so y/n?” “Mhm!! But let’s try something elsee” you take the band holding his hair up out gently as to not put any hair out, then you dragged both hands from his scalp all the way down his hair which made him shiver. You grabbed two pieces of his hair from the front of his head to put them into two buns. After that you took a look at his cute face. “Oh my gosh you look like a cute little bear!” “Ha little?” “Yeah your just a silly little guy!” Which made him blush. He loves moments like this

Gaara⏳-*

He is very timid with any new form of physical affection so when you suggested playing with his hair he was a little shy but also confused, why does she want to touch my hair? Is it because it’s red? He didn’t understand but was willing

“I’m ok with you touching my hair I’m just wondering why?” You smile at his curiosity “it’ll feel good sweetheart, I’ll give you a nice head massage~” he likes massages so that comforted him a little. Once you made contact with his hair he felt a little less anxious. “Feel good?” His eyes softened while he turned drowsy “yes…thank you” he fell asleep not to far into the massage, but now you know any time he has trouble sleeping you could put him to sleep by playing with his hair

Kankuro🪆-*

I’ve said before he LOVES his hair, you rarely get to touch is. But he will let you touch it if you pull it play with it which he does like but never admits it

“Why would I let your touch my glorious hair!” “You let me pull it last night?” “SHUP UP?!” Teasing him is always fun so you get a laugh out of it, but you do really want to play with his hair “no serious let me play with it! I promise you’ll love ittt~” “Ughhhh fineeeee” he mumbled while he sits on his knees infront of you. Once you actually started playing with it He visibly relaxed “told you you’d love ittt” “I don’t love it! I just…yeah fine you win I love it”

[adoristsposts]

all the seasons | quinn hughes

author's note; guys i fear i may be coming back with my first non-song-inspired quinn hughes fanfic... and it's loooong. anything can be a oneshot if you post it all at once, right? summary; when stumbling upon quinn hughes seems to become a year-round habit, it's hard to deny that maybe fate might be pushing the two of you together. word count; 4.7k warnings; a little bit of purple prose probably idk i've been writing this on and off. swearing + mentions of drinking

winter

There is a large chance, you realise, that Quinn Hughes will not like you as much as your best friend has been assuring you. Cole, of course, is beaming at you like he knows some shit is going to go down. The idiot. It had taken a lot of groveling for him to convince you to come - and a lot of whining about how all the other 'old farts' on the team would bore him to death with hockey talk and flaunt their hot girlfriends, making him miss his hot girlfriend who had flown home for Christmas. All of it had ended in the promise that you would get to talk puck with your favourite players and he would buy all your drinks at the bar the eldest Hughes brother had rented out. You had agreed reluctantly. Cole was hard to say no to. After you had spilled hot chocolate all over him his first year in Vancouver and begged him to send you the dry cleaning bill, you had become a bit of a lifeline to the boy. You became someone whose apartment he stayed in whenever he was called up to the Canucks, and someone to drive the long commute to his weekend games. The two of you had become inseparable. Well, separable only by the distance between Vancouver and Abbotsford that you refused to cross on workdays. Recently called up, and staying in the guest room next to yours, Cole had been invited to the Canucks' Christmas party. A party "usually organized by Millsy's wife, but she's like, sick or something" Cole had explained to you. Therefore the responsibility fell on Quinn Hughes. "What are you all stressed about?" Cole asked, looking up from his phone and settling his gaze on you. You had been lost in your thoughts, listening to the hum of the Uber's engine and the quiet radio the driver was playing. "Dude," You breathed out, "I'm going to puke." "You are not" He said, well aware of your dramatics, "going to puke. You will be fine, they'll love you." "In ten minutes I have to talk to the Vancouver Canucks. The captain of the Vancouver Canucks. I deal with enough talking to you." You hissed out, glancing at the Uber. Was this information safe to share? Should you be worried he was going to dox the Christmas party address? Oh, God save us all. Happy birthday, Jesus. Thanks a lot. Cole laughed at you "Would you chill out? I keep telling you Quinn will love you." "I'm chilling out, I promise," You breathed, "Just thinking about all those drinks you're going to buy me." "Alright, alright."

Ten minutes later the two of you were clambering out of the Uber. "Do I look okay?" You asked him, adjusting your dress. He just shrugged and let out a grunt that almost sounded like an 'I don't know.' You rolled your eyes at him but followed him as he led you towards an eerily quiet bar. It was obvious it had been booked for a private event, but the missing element of drunk people lining the streets outside of it made the whole thing feel a little out of place. A pub for Christmas? Cole opened the door for you, allowing you to step inside first and take the place in. Whoever Quinn had hired had done a great job - red tinsel was strewn about just about anywhere it could go. Christmas decorations lined the bar, as well as a handful of Menorahs and other Hannukah decorations. The whole place was alive already. You and Cole were fashionably late, you presumed. "Let's say hi to Quinn" Cole said, pressing a hand against your upper back to help lead you towards the Captain. You wouldn't have needed the help. For God knows whatever reason, Quinn basically shone in gold to you. His face was flushed and his hair slightly sweaty from the pure heat radiating throughout the place. There was a lopsided grin on his face as he smiled at whatever joke the man across from him was telling. The bar lights, slightly tinged red, fell over him like water that cascaded down his strong nose, off his shoulders, and over his body. It was a pull you had never felt before, one that made you forget about the fact Cole was literally pushing you towards the man. Quinn's gaze slid away from his conversation and across the room, obviously taking note of if everything was running well. For a moment it scanned over you before coming back. And for a second, it was like everything in the world fell into place. Almost as if he felt it too, his lips parted and his eyebrows furrowed. Or, perhaps, you realized, he was wondering 'Who the fuck is this girl at my party?' "Quinn!" Cole greeted happily, darting out from behind you and giving the man a hug. Over Cole's shoulder, Quinn held you in a quizzical stare. When he pulled away, he asked, "Who are you?" Cole laughed awkwardly at the blunt question. "This is my friend I was telling you about. The one from Vancouver?" Quinn's face showed no sign of recognising or remembering any mention of a 'friend from Vancouver.' Instead he just stared. It was stranger, probably, that you just stared back. "Okay..." Cole said, glancing between the two of you. "I'm going to go get a drink. You want anything?" "Whatever you think I'd like." You said, finally breaking your gaze to give Cole an appreciative smile. He gave you an odd look and then backed away before fully turning around and heading towards the bar. Just you and Quinn now. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name." Quinn said. His face still held a look of perplexity. He looked so intently at you that you felt like he was trying to figure out if he recognised you from somewhere. You gave it to him, lips curling up as he nodded at the information like it was some interesting fact. "I'm Quinn. I mean- Cole just said it but.. I'm Quinn." You laughed. It really wasn't that funny, but it bubbled out of you before you could stop it. "Hi Quinn."

A few drinks later and you and the captain of the Vancouver Canucks that you were so anxious to meet had been glued at the hip for hours, talking about anything and everything you two could think of. You had wandered out to the outdoor seating of the bar. It was entirely empty, thanks to the freezing conditions of a Vancouver winter that everyone inside was trying to escape from. But you had discovered throughout the night that the heat in your cheeks seemed forever present around Quinn, and the cold air was like a soothing kiss. "Are you cold?" He asked you. "No, are you?" You asked back, eyeing his red nose and bouncing leg. He smiled and shook his head. It was quiet out here. Conversation in the bar had gotten difficult the rowdier everyone had gotten. Cole had long left you two, pouty that you wouldn't save him from awkward conversations he couldn't relate to about marriage and kids with the older guys. Quinn's hand on the railing brushed against yours. "Listen, I don't really know how to approach the topic, but do you think I could get your-" "There you are!" If you could pick a time and place for a person to drop dead, you would pick right here, right now, and Cole McWard. "I've been looking for you everywhere. I am desperate to go home- No offense Quinn, the party's great." "Okay, okay," You said, "Right now?" "The Uber's outside. I've been frantically searching for you ever since I realized you and Huggy here had left your little corner." Shit. Okay. You turned to Quinn. Even at the sight of him, a stupid grin broke out on your face. There was something romantic about him that you couldn't quite place, like it was written all over his face that he should be the star in some cheesy movie about loving and loving hard. "See you around?" You said. "See you around."

"Did you get his number?" Cole asked in the Uber. "No," You sighed, "And fuck. 'Cause he's hot." "If it's meant to be, it'll be." He shrugged.

spring

April hit like a drug. After a few weeks of pining over Quinn Hughes (who had chased Cole down to ask if you were single and then gone radio silent), and then a few hours of remembering you were single and didn't have to care, the first few months of the year had flown by. Work had been hectic, and you loved it. You navigated the isles of the florist's shop, on call with Cole through your headphones. You made a beeline to the lilies, choosing the pink ones and complaining to Cole about some client of yours that had been beyond difficult. "Seems to me like you need to lock Hughesy down and retire so you take all this over-achiever energy and put into being the captain's wife." Cole snorted. You rolled your eyes even though he couldn't see you, "I told you, I'm over that." "You were like, in love with the man." "And he did nothing about it!" You exclaimed, walking up to the cashier and paying for them. You mouthed a quiet thank you and moved on. "He literally always asks me about you." "Yeah, on the rare occasion you get called up. I think that's just called small talk." You huffed. Cole sighed, "Listen, just... I don't know. You guys seemed good together. It'll happen." And then he ruined the moment by quoting Surf's Up "I can feel it in my nuggets." You snorted at him. "Whatever, it's whatever. I've got to get home, I'll call you later, okay?" "Okay, bye." He hung up quickly. No drawn out goodbyes for you two. With a start, you realized you had forgotten to ask him if he had remembered to set aside a ticket for you for his game Saturday. You quickly pulled up your messages, typing out the question for him. About to hit send you- A grunt and the feeling of the hard pavement on your ass stopped you before you could. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry, that's totally my fault and- Quinn?" You were surprised by the blue eyes that stared at you as you pick yourself up. He opened his mouth, then shut it again, then open, then shut, like a fish. You furrowed your eyebrows at him. "Are you alright?" He stuttered to life, like a machine rebooting. "Yes! Um, yeah, I'm all good. I haven't seen you since..." "Since the Christmas party." You finished for him. You wanted to press your lips into a thin line, tell him to have a good life, and move on. God, you wanted to. But something about Quinn made your brain muddled. You smiled at him. He smiled back. "Want to grab a coffee? I can buy you some flowers to make up for the ones I just crushed." True to his observations, the lilies you had just bought were bent out of shape from hitting the floor with you. "Yeah. That would be nice."

Quinn Hughes, you were beginning to realise, was easy to stare at. It was like every part of his face was designed with some gravitational pull that just beckoned you closer and closer until you were entirely enamoured with the way his mouth curled as he talked. You didn't realise the conversation went quiet until it did, too busy staring to clock that he had finished talking. He cleared his throat and you broke out of your trance. "Sorry." You said. "Listen.." Quinn trailed off. You were a little afraid he was going to call you out and tell you that you were making him uncomfortable. "That night. The Christmas party- God, I hope I don't come on too strong here but.. We were good, right? There was some crazy, cosmic connection. Please tell me I didn't make that up." It was like the air had been sucked out of the room and forced into your lungs. You wanted to call all your friends who had told you that 'delusional doesn't get anyone anywhere' and tell them that he had felt it too. The feeling that before you locked eyes the world hadn't moved, hadn't been set in motion until you knew the feeling of his gaze on you and yours on him. You wanted to cry out, 'Yes, you idiot', but instead you settled for a smile and "I felt it, trust me." "I was going to ask for your number, but Cole interrupted and I felt like maybe it was a sign that I wasn't ready for you yet. Like maybe the universe was telling me to wait for you. God I sound like such an idiot. And if I freak you out and you turn me down just know I will still replace those flowers," He was talking slowly, sure of himself, "But I would really like your number now. If you and the Universe want me to. Have your number, that is." You placed a hand over his, hoping that the sign of interest would get him to stop rambling. "Firstly, my lilies better be replaced. And secondly, you could've had my number at the party, universe be damned, but I'm just as happy to give it to you now"

summer

There was nothing that compared to the absolute defeat reflected in Quinn's face as he wrung his hands sitting on the couch. An injury for earlier in the season had flared up again, leaving him scratched from the second round of the playoffs- a round that the Canucks were struggling in without their Captain. It stressed you out to see him so stressed out. And you honestly had no clue what you were supposed to do. Since exchanging numbers, the two of you had done just about everything other than put a label on what you were. It was terrifying and exhilarating and you didn't know if you should turn the television off or not to spare Quinn from what was beginning to turn into a nasty loss. It killed him to not be able to fly out for the away game, to not be able to be there for his team. Having him play through his injury had left him sidelined for weeks, and not allowing that injury to fully heal before he picked up his stick again had bothered him until finally the medical team had to force him to rest. Even now you knew he'd be laced up and on the ice in seconds if he could be. "You alright?" You asked him, "Need any ice or heat or anything?" Your apartment had become his over the past few months. His gear had a permanent spot in your coat closet and his Yankees cap hung up next to your Abbotsford one. And now everything Quinn-care was stored around the place. He grunted in response, eyes still glued to the screen. "Quinn." "Jesus, what?" He snapped. At least he broke his gaze from the TV. Immediately, he softened. "Sorry. I'm alright, thank you. I'm sorry." You moved from your station behind the kitchen counter and sat next to him on the couch. "I know it sucks." You told him. "It's one more week. I want you healed, Quinn. You gotta help me here." "I know, I know." He pressed his lips into a thin smile, grabbing your hand and turning back to the game. He stroked circles onto the back of your hand. Even with the ups and downs of the game, they never lost their rhythm.

You fell asleep listening to the hum of the commentators and the sounds of skates and sticks on the ice. When you woke up, Quinn was texting furiously, the pads of his thumbs beating on his phone in an almost soothing dance. "Everything alright?" He didn't turn. "Yeah, babe." "How was the game?" "They lost. Sorry- give me a second, I'm texting the groupchat." You hummed in response, not bothering to talk. He was lost to the hockey he was replaying in his mind. Over and over on a loop until he felt he had identified what went wrong and how he could fix it. You unfurled yourself from your place amongst the pillows and rose, your bones cracking and groaning in pleasure from getting out of the position. You padded to the windows, closing them. They had been open to release some of the heat in your apartment, but now all you wanted to do was sleep without worrying about pesky insects getting in. When you turned back to the couch Quinn was still typing. "I'm going to bed, you coming?" You asked him. He turned and gave you his big stupid grin that hung lopsidedly on his face. "In a minute. Don't wait up, okay? I know you have work tomorrow." "'kay" You wandered into your bedroom, slipping yourself into your sheets. Over the past few months of seeing each other it had become near impossible for you to sleep without the white noise of Quinn's quiet snores next to you. Roadies were beginning to genuinely impact your functionality at work, with the lack of sleep and following overconsumption of caffeine messing with you. Quinn was the complete opposite of everything you had searched for. Being best friends with Cole, you knew what dating a hockey player was like. And you had been adamant you didn't want anything like it. His schedule made everything about dating difficult- not to mention the added privacy that was required in his situation. On top of it, he was entirely enamoured with hockey. When you caught him zoning out during movies or taking a little too long to reply in conversation, you knew he was just dreaming of it in the same way he had his whole life. It was what made him so undeniably talented on the ice. And as a fan of the sport yourself, you understood. And God help you, you forgave. Because you wanted nothing other than him. The boy had tainted you completely. If you ever had to date again, if the two of you never did label anything and just fizzled out, he would have ruined you for anyone else. There was no one else with his passion and dedication. His ability to take charge and make the best of difficult situations. And no one who made you feel so whole. He was far from what you were looking for, but he was what you needed. A man. One that was still texting his groupchat as you drifted closer to sleep without the heat of his body next to you. But twenty or so minutes later you felt the brush of a kiss at your temple and the familiar dip of the bed as Quinn slipped into his side. And you fully fell asleep to the smell of his cologne and the feeling of his chest against your back.

fall

"You're going to be my wife." Quinn cooed. You turned around from your seat in front of your vanity, narrowing your eyes at him. "Quinn, what?" You were shocked at the statement. Also shocked at the fact that you didn't quite hate the idea. The two of you had become official a month or so back, and the four weeks had felt exactly like the four weeks before it: calm and blissful. He was smirking at you from the bed. You studied his face. You had never been more obsessed with someone's face. You could probably close your eyes and still accurately point to where his beauty mark was, you were so obsessed. There was something so romantic about him. It opened a pit in your stomach and swallowed you whole. You were like a teenage girl with a crush. Quite literally weak in the knees at your big-girl age of 23. "You're going to be my wife." He repeated, rising from where he sat on the edge of your bed. You turned back to your vanity, allowing him to plant both hands on the back of your chair and lock eyes with you in the mirror. "My wife." He said. Third times the charm, you suppose, as the reality of how insane he sounded hit you. "Your wife?" You almost snorted, "Is this a proposal after one month, Hughes? You know you're yet to even meet my parents." "I've met them!" He defended, "Over the phone- that is so not the point." You rolled your eyes at him. "It's also not a proposal. I just know." At your unimpressed look, he said "The universe, baby." "Sure, Hughesy. Are you ready to go?" You and Quinn were heading out to your last dinner of the pre-season. Getting ramped back up had been difficult with off-season trades and signings and finding the chemistry in a practically new team had taken it's toll on Quinn. But the pressure would be tenfold once the season started. The players and fans were ravenous for a cup. Years of hard work were starting to pay off with better records and longer playoff runs, and you knew that when Quinn closed his eyes at night he was dreaming of that pretty piece of metal. One that, you had admitted to him while drawing patterns on his chest, you had always wanted to be able to kiss like all your hockey idols before you. "I'll get it for you" He had said like it was a shiny piece of jewelry. "You better" You had replied, sealing the promise with a kiss. "Yeah, I'm all ready, pretty lady."

winter

"Happy three years" Quinn smiled, tucking your hair behind your ear. You laughed at him, "What are you talking about? Put your shoes on." The two of you were on your way to the Canuck's annual Christmas party. This was your first year sharing the responsibility with JT Miller's wife. You still weren't quite ready to fully take on the role. Although the woman insisted you would have been fine on your own and seemed a little eager to officially pass the mantle of party-planner onto you. Quinn was still staring at you. "The uber is here, you goof" You tugged him by his shirt out of the door. "We're going to be late." "Happy three year," He repeated. "What? Our anniversary is in September" "We met three years ago. Happy three years, my love." You stopped in your tracks. "Oh my god, Quinn, I'm so sorry - I didn't even realise." He smiled at you. Three years in and that look still made you melt. His hair was freshly washed, and the wet strands fell across his forehead like they were styled to look perfectly messy. His ever-scruffy facial hair seemed custom made to frame his perfect smile. "If you don't stop looking at me like that, we're going to miss the Uber and the party. That I planned" You put an emphasis on the last part like it would deter him at all. You had left a couple 'you' planned parties because he wouldn't stop looking at you a certain way. Being in love had never been so entirely overwhelming for you before. You could remember when you met him like it was yesterday. The electricity that charged between you two. The feeling that your heart was trying to claw itself out of your body so it could get to his. It was nothing you had felt before and something you had felt every day since. He grabbed your waist with one of his hands. One of the many things Quinn brought up when he raved about fate and the universe was the fact that he claimed you fit perfectly in the palm of his hand. That it was his "God-given spot." The sap. You felt the same, secretly. "Happy three years," He said, still giving you that fucking smile. You tilted your head to look up at him. Lifting to your toes so you could reach him comfortably, you pressed your lips against his. He parted his lips quickly, a hand making it's way to your chin to angle you into the perfect position. The kiss got passionate fast, and your hands explored his chest, smoothing over his pecs. One wandered over his shoulder, pulling him into you, while the other grabbed a fistful of the flannel he had thrown on over his long-sleeve.

The buzzing of your phone interrupted you. He tried to chase your lips with his as you pulled away, but you gave him a playfully stern look and he gave up. "The uber is literally texting me, Quinn, we have to go." "I have the flu." "You do not." "I'm very truthfully ill. I don't think I should risk giving it to my teammates and their girlfriends. I think we should stay home." You quirked an eyebrow, "We? I can go without you." "If I'm sick, so are you." "You are not sick, Quinn." "Oh I am. Outrageously so. The Scarlett Fever, I think." "Quinn," You laughed. "The Bubonic Plague." "Come on." "Marry me." "We're- What?" Quinn hadn't faltered at all. "Let's miss the Uber. Marry me." "Quinn, what? Are you still joking?" His face paled a little at the question, "Why? Do you not want to?" You swatted his shoulder, "Obviously I want to. This is so not a funny joke." He looked into the hallway past you, like he was scanning for an aggravated Uber driver coming in to drag his customers into his car. "Wait here." You opened your mouth to protest that you really truly were going to be late now, but he was already thundering back towards your apartment. He rushed in, the door not even having enough time to click behind him before he raced back out. In his hand was a black velvet box. "I was waiting for a good opportunity. I thought maybe when I got you that Stanley Cup. Or at the lake, but I couldn't wait that long." "Quinn" You breathed out. "I love you. So much. And I know I've said a million times that I'm going to marry you, but this time I'm asking for real. Marry me? We can have a big wedding with everyone from the team and a crazy venue and my mom can fuss over your bridesmaids so you don't have to and Cole can even be your Man of Honour. Or we can have a tiny, courthouse wedding with just you and me- and maybe Jack and Luke. I don't care. Just marry me?" You had expected, your whole life, that the world would spin on its axel the day you got engaged. You had thought profusely about this exact moment, and how everything would change, and wondered if your husband-to-be would pick the perfect ring. But you didn't even care if Quinn ever opened the box. If it was the ugliest thing you'd ever seen in your life. And it didn't feel like the air had left your lungs, and it didn't feel like everything was changing. It felt like everything was slotting in where it was supposed to be - and this was your place. Maybe not in your dingy apartment that you loved too much to move out of for your boyfriend Quinn (a problem that would not arise for your fiancee Quinn, you realised as you began to dream of a gorgeous house and a few little Hughes running around that most certainly would not fit in your one-bedroom one-bathroom) but your place with him, however you could have him. You couldn't even get the words out, opting instead for a tearful nod. Quinn surged to you, wrapping his arms around you. Overcome with emotions, you practically collapsed. Quinn helped you lower yourself to the floor. You grabbed for him, taking a fistful of his shirt and using it to pull his lips to yours. "I love you," You murmured against them, "And we are totally missing this party." He laughed in response, pulling away and pressing his forehead to yours. "Absolutely. Now get this ring on and let's get off this gross floor, yeah?" Your face hurt from smiling, but your grin somehow got even wider. "Yeah."

[kamitv]

Yuki has many joys in this world but one of her favorite things to do with you is make out with you while she’s knuckle deep in your cunt. 

Breaking away from your lips only ever to tease you with a slightly hoarse mutter, “Hear how loud my girl is?” She’d giggle while thumbing your clit like it’s second nature and curling two of her lengthy fingers right into that spot she knows you so desperately crave for her to reach. 

You’d let out a moan in response if it weren’t for her lips latching onto yours again and drowning out the sound completely. Her tongue twirls and dances over yours the same way it typically slithers into your cunt. You try your best to keep up with her, whining as your hips jerk against her mean digits that were busy assaulting your sloppy cavern.

You really start losing it when she pulls away from your mouth just to watch your expression twist up into pure bliss. Her fingers are fucking perfect inside you, dragging out something so sweet and delicious from the depths of your drooling pussy and eyeing down the way whines of her name leave your pretty spit-slicked lips.

“Y-Yuki, please,” You gasp and attempt to lift your hips for a moment to breathe only to be tugged right back down by the grip she’s got on you with her free hands.

Yuki pouts just to mock you, “Aw, you close, pretty?” She utters to you with this faux sweetness that makes your stomach twist and churn, thighs trembling over hers. “Gonna cum for me? Make a nasty lil’ mess on my fingers like you always do?” She continues, fingertips rubbing right against that angled spot inside you that has you seeing stars for a moment.

Then you’re left nodding wildly, attempting to duck down and hide your face in her neck only to be stopped by her lifting the hand from your hip and moving it to your throat meticulously. Her thumb forces your chin up a bit so that you can keep looking at her and she smiles.

“Tryin’ to hide your face from me? Seriously?” She gasps in exaggerated surprise, “Y’know this is my favorite part,” Her fingers pick up in pace all of a sudden and you can feel the tips just ramming into you, as if to punish you for your recent attempt. “Jus’ look atcha’, all teary eyed ‘n pouty like you didn’t ask for this…”

Your eyes are quick to dart elsewhere but you feel your orgasm approaching you quickly. “S-Shut up,” You huff, “It’s embarrassing w-when you do that…”

The knowing smile on her face widens and she tips her head to the side, the thumbing at your clit coming to a soft ‘n steady slow. “Do what?” Yuki puffs out in that soft tone again, brown eyes just dilating at the disorientated sight of you, “Watch you when you’re about to cum?” Answering her own question, she leans forward a bit and your hovering over her lap becomes unsteady. “Would you rather I watch her instead?”

You wanted to say no because you know exactly how embarrassing that is but, she’s swiftly removing her hands from you only to lay you back on the mattress. With a heavy huff exiting your throat, you watch with wide glossy eyes as she sits up in front of you. Her hands meet your thighs and you dread what’s about to happen already.

“S’been a while since I’ve seen my girl up close too,” Yuki recalls happily as she parts your legs for herself. “Think she missed me just as much as I missed her?”

You’re too busy covering your face out of some sort of shyness, refusing to answer or look at your eager girlfriend. To which Yuki playfully rolls her eyes and repositions herself down in between your legs.

Her eyes stay up on you and your heavily breathing chest for a moment before she pushes forward and presses a chaste kiss against the soaked slit of your pussy. “Baby,” She hums, using that fake desperate tone of hers just to try and convince you to watch her. “Look at me, will you?”

Even though you know damn well she only wants to tease you, you end up listening anyway as you remove your hands from your face and just barely drag your eyes down to her. God, she’s so sexy in between your legs. Blonde hair strung back in a messy ponytail, brown eyes set dead on you, and pretty pink lips quirked up into that smile you know and love so much.

“There she is,” Yuki coos, tilting her head again just to pout at you, “Was that so hard?”

Your brows twist up and as you go to answer her, she slots her two fingers right back into you slowly with a loud squelch emitting into the room. “No,” You whisper, “But, d-do you have to stare…?”

She scoffs at you. “Oh, that's right, you don’t like it when I look at you.”

“N-No, I just—“

“It’s okay,” Yuki tells you, quickly placing her eyes down onto your cunt. “I’ll jus’ give my second favorite girl some more of my attention.” As soon as she says that, her fingers are dragging out of you and she bites back a satisfied hum at the sight of your slick dripping off of her skin. “Yeahh, you’ve missed all of my attention, haven’t you, pretty?” 

Then, she moves her thumbs just to spread your cunt nice ‘n open for herself to get a beautiful display of your essence dribbling down. This really was another one of her favorite sights, watching that twitch and quiver of your pussy as you grow needy for her to touch you again. 

Yuki’s brows twist up in awe and she tries not to straight up moan at the sight of you. “Such a wet girl,” She whispers one last time before sending a wad of spit to your clit and then watching the way her saliva trickles downward and mixes with all your soaked glory.  

After which she dives right in, locking her lips onto your cunt and darting that lengthy tongue of hers out—sloppily lathering the muscle with your taste and groaning into you the moment she feels your body react and a moan of her name leaves your lips. Yuki could eat you out for hours and never get tired. Which only makes sense of course, you are her favorite meal.

She loves the way you shoot your hands down to her hair and grab ahold of her, pathetically attempting to move or shift her where you want her to go but ultimately failing. Yuki goes wherever she wants to, the area of desire being your clit at the current moment with the way she goes from those lengthy licks to kissing and soft sucking on your slobbering pussy until she reaches it.

Yuki pulls up just barely an inch above your clit and exhales softly, her breath hitting your wet skin and making you twitch as she smiles. “Almost forgot how sweet this pussy is,” She comments gently, slithering her tongue out just to flick around your aching clit in a torturous little circle. “She’s so sensitive too.” Yuki’s tongue flattens and then her lips cup the twitching bud before she sucks, hard.

Your back arches instinctively and you’re left gasping for the air that left your throat. “Fuck, Yuki… mmgh,” You moan into the air, the sound hitting her eardrums and making her smile into you.

Her tongue was nasty against your clit—flicking and twisting all around you in a sloppy manner while she fucked her two fingers back into your needy hole. The squelches and softened gurgles that left your pussy were like music to her ears, enough to make her cunt throb in excitement.

“Hmm?” She hums against you lazily, beginning to curl her fingers back into that spot again. Your legs instinctively move to close around her but the hand she’s got on your thigh keeps you pinned open for her. “Oh don’t tell me you're about to cum already, I just got down here…” She whines, as if she weren’t fingerfucking you for God knows how long before this.

Your hips lift, eager to feel her lips on you again. “Please Yuki?” You beg, staring right down at her with a pout plaster all over your face, “I’ll be so good for it, w-won’t look away from you again, or—mmh… or hide my face, just.. please let me cum.”

She quickly looks up at you. There was no way she was gonna miss that expression of yours. And fuck, she’s so weak for it too. How could she ever say no to you? 

Chuckling cunningly, Yuki sighs and begins to casually pick up that assault on your g-spot with her fingers again. Then she slides her thumb up to simultaneously rub over your clit—the combination enough to drive you to tears. “Fine, fine, anything for you. Go ‘head ‘n give me somethin’ sweet to suck off my fingers, baby. Don’t hold back,” She purrs, her voice enough to coax you right over the edge.

And you do exactly that within seconds, a pitched whine leaving your throat as your orgasm comes washing over you. Your thighs quake a bit and Yuki relishes in every look of bliss that crashes right over your facial features.

As she fucks you through your high, she begins to trail kisses up along your skin until she gets to your neck and then sucks. “Atta’ girl,” She hushes out into you hotly as you gush around her fingers. Then, she slides up a bit and slowly tugs her fingers out of you. After popping her digits into her mouth and moaning at the taste of you on her tongue again, she swallows and moves her lips down to your ear. “Now can you do one more thing f’me?” He requests.

You don’t even need to know what it is to start nodding as your panting comes to a stop. “Y-Yes, of course. What is it?” You ask carefully.

She giggles and kisses the crown of your ear, “Make the same mess around my strap…”

[daisynik7]

Toji is the type to be so cold to you in front of your friends. Scoffs at every little thing you say, rolls his eyes at your cheesy jokes, pretends that he couldn't care less about you. He's that one asshole "friend" in your group who you can't seem to get along with, so you bicker and bicker with each other constantly. It's no secret that the two of you can't stand one another.

What is a secret is when the two of you are alone.

"You're not mad at me, are you?" he whispers, his mouth grazing your ear as he stands behind you at the kitchen sink. The others are still gathered in the living room; you went here to wash your hands. He followed you in, always does. He jumps at every chance he can get to be alone with you, just to have moments like this.

Tonight, he pissed you off by joking about how boring you are for having to leave the party early tonight. Something stupid, it always is. You flipped him the bird in response, refusing to say a word, knowing it would just encourage him.

And now, he's here with you. His hands around your hips, pulling you closer to him, pushing himself closer to you. He kisses the back of your neck, fingers inching between your legs, his erection throbbing against you. He never says sorry, only apologizes by giving you his cock. This time, you don't want to make it so easy for him.

"Thought you said I was boring," you say, jutting your ass towards him.

"That was just a joke," he purrs, rubbing your clothed pussy with his fingers. "You know how excited you make me."

You hum, pretending to reconsider the original plan. "Maybe I should just stay here longer."

He almost whines before he catches himself, because Toji Fushiguro would rather be caught dead than caught whining over a woman. But with you, he comes close. The only reason you want to leave this silly party early is so you could prepare your house for when he comes over later to spend the night, a routine the two of you have been doing in secret for a while now. And of course, he's at fault for ruining the plan with his idiotic mouth.

When he doesn't respond, you turn around, smirking. "Nothing to say? I'm having fun here anyways, so it's better that I don't leave - "

He mumbles something that's barely audible, though you know exactly what he's trying to say. "Could you repeat that a little louder, please?" you tease him, cupping your ear with your hand, enjoying this way too much.

He swallows hard, avoiding your gaze by looking up at the ceiling. "I'm sorry," you mutters, through gritted teeth.

You tip his chin to make him face you, smiling. "Good boy. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Toji Fushiguro would rather be caught dead than be called a "good boy." But once again, it's proved that you are the exception.

[cherry-pop-elf]

New Chapter

Anya x Reader

Can be read as platonic because we all want the best for her

SUM: Anya gets an abortion so you and the rest of the crew wait for her. You were the first one, however, to see her after surgery. Also because fuck you, abortion rights

Warnings: Abortion, sexual assault, jimmy, medical situations, abortion rights, domestic happy family

“How long is it gonna take?” Daisuke asked, as he was worried but also excited. Excited for Anya to feel better. Worried for well….Not like he’s had the best reactions to medical situations. Example A being Curly in the wheelchair next to him.

Curly was doing so much better now that he was actually on the planet again. The doctors were still jaw dropped that Anya was able to keep him alive with so little. Was not only a testimony to how she refused for him to die, but him refusing to leave his crew behind as well. It’s still a long journey ahead, but he was in clean bandages and clothes at least. Was even able to talk again. Sorta. Rather raspy but he will get there.

Jeez where to start on how you all got here to begin with.

“She’s going to be fine. Abortion is way less invasive than you think. It really depends on how far along, but luckily she isn’t too far for it to be to extreme. Not sure what type she went for, but whatever she chose she chooses. Just grateful we were able to return home before she reached to far along.” You would admit, as you would check up on Curly’s IV bag for him. Taking over Anya’s roll until she could return.

“Ya know….My wife had an abortion.” Swansea said, and it made all of you look over to him in pure surprise.

“What’s the funny look for? Ya think I’m a freak that would refuse my wife that? She needed it! The kid just….It ain’t my place, but the kid just wasn’t gonna survive. Either she carried it to term and die with em, or she just skips the heart ache. Not like it was her fault. We got two healthy girls at the end of the day. We got em because she got rid of that fucked up one.” He explained, as Daisuke seemed wide eyed in respect.

Explains why he snapped more clearly.

Anya had explained to Swansea what had happened, and before you pre Daisuke knew it Jimmy’s head was sliced off and rolling across the kitchen floor. Poor Suke threw up all over you from the sight, and shock. Then threw up again when he learned why he did such a thing. Lots of puking and crying. Fitting.

“Glad that damn company is dead. Whose wise idea was it to have a single woman surrounded by men. No offense you two-“ Curly would wheeze, before you would help him take his medication. Sure is easier to take pills when you actually give him water and take it slow. No choking or crying.

“Thats a can of worms I don’t want us to talk about.” Swansea would scoff. As a father to two girls he had a lot of things to say. Daisuke would be willing to listen, sure, but honestly you all had enough emotional fatigue to last multiple life times.

Thank god Curly was so high up on the food chain at the company. They knew they would get into more hot water if their, once, top captain suddenly vanished. Wouldn’t make their bankruptcy any smoother. For once they did the right thing and sent Simeon to save them.

Funny. A capitalist corporate organization took responsibility for their actions. For the right reasons? No. But they still took it. Strange. Isn’t it?

“Is she done yet?” Daisuke would whine, as you laughed at his childish nature. As if waiting on a sister to get out of the dentists office. You found it rather endearing honestly. That despite it all he was still having a heart full of love and excitement.

“Go play on your toy.” Swansea would grumble, as Suke whined. Regardless he would pull out his game boy. A nice excuse to play video games with out any guilt on wasting his time. Enjoying life shouldn’t be a burden.

“Need anything, Curly?” You would ask him, since you planned on going to the bathroom. Yeah Swansea and Daisuke could handle him, but you still wanted to be polite. Maybe you could grab him something from the vending machines. Maybe a soda. Some sugar in his system would do him good. Anya said that sugary bubble water of some kind, like sprite, can help quite a lot with indigestion.

“I should be fine. Thank you for asking though. Sorry you have to…” He would admit, as he looked himself over. His missing limbs now properly covered up with fabric to keep them clean, and allow him some kind of independence. The fabric on the stumps were padded. With enough practice and effort he would certainly be able to roll himself around.

Then again this was a world of space travel. He was going to get cyborged eventually, but you need to be healed first before such an intense operation. Can’t rush something like this.

“Hey. I do it because I can. Not because I have to. You are our captain. Let me be a good solider.” You teased him, and even in his broken face you could see a smile.

Swansea have you a head nod to indicate he would ‘take care of the boys’ and you were off to use the restroom.

Once done with that you would grab a soda from the vending machine for Curly, a bag of candy for Daisuke, and some pretzels for Swansea. As you were making your way back a nurse would motion you over.

“Miss Anya was asking for you. She has finished her operation, and wanted you to see her.”

You were surprised at that. You expected Curly to be her first guest. Did something go wrong? Oh you couldn’t help but freak out.

You followed after the nurse quickly, and all you were shown was Anya resting in her hospital bed. Tired, but relieved. Mostly. You saw that familiar stress in her eyes. That same stress she had when asking you if she made the right choice in asking Jimmy for help with medicating Curly.

That worry of if I did the right thing.

The nurse would leave you to alone, and you would quickly set the snacks aside. Now you were sitting next to her, in a chair, and holding her hand. Ready to be the shoulder she needed.

“Hey there Doc. How you doing?” You asked her, as you carefully stroked the back of her hand. Made sure to be mindful of all the tubes and wires.

“Well….It went far smoother than I expected. It was just so quick. They didn’t even need to put me under. The IV is more so for the issues I already had because of being stranded on the ship for so long. It was just so quick. So painless. Was just like pulling a thorn out of an arm. It was….Simple.” She would try and explain to you. Needing to make sure to stop herself before using doctor jargon.

“Too easy?” You puzzled.

“Yes. It was just….I expected pain. Pain and anxiety and horror. Suppose even a nurse can come to learn a thing or two…..”

She was hiding something, and you had an educated guess on what.

“You expected Jimmy to break down the door. Weren’t you?”

There was silence, but it told you everything.

“Scoot over. Move it sister-“ You were now crawling into the medical bed with her, moving the wires around, and soon snuggled into her side. Hugging her close, and especially with your arm over her stomach.

“You did the right thing. It’s your body at the end of it all. You took responsibility of taking care of yourself. You wouldn’t have been able to live a proper life. You went to med school. You don’t need me to tell you the horrors of pregnancy and birth. That alone is terrifying. But also you simply not wanting to be pregnant is enough. Ain’t no Jimmy’s gonna storm in and say otherwise.” You huffed, as she smiled. Her head leaning into yours.

“Yeah….No more Jimmy’s. Pretty sure Swansea will make sure of that.” She did her best to joke, and you were proud of her for it. This whole ordeal was hell. Hell none of you will ever truly walk away from. But that’s ok. You all had each other to lean on.

“I think I’m ready for everyone now.” Anya would whisper, as you gave her hand a squeeze. You were so proud of her. This was all such a nightmare, but she’s taking it in stride.

“Hell yeah.” You agreed, before climbing out of the bed. You made sure to grab the snacks, and exited the hospital room.

“Come on guys-! Anya is waiting on you-!” You shameless shouted outside of the room. She couldn’t help her face palm. Daisuke sure was an influence on you.

“I wanna push Curly!”

“Like hell you are-!”

They would bicker away, before Curly said ‘fuck it’ and did his best to roll himself over. He sure was a stubborn one. Made it half way before you figured that was enough work out for one person.

“Pretty far! Getting better at it-!” You encouraged, as the two men realized how far Curly rolled off on before finally following you two into Anya’s room.

“HAPPY NO BIRTH-DAY!” Daisuke would cheer, as Anya shook her head at such a joke.

“God dammit kid-“ Swansea side, before he came over to Anya. Giving her head a kiss. Just comforting her much like a father would.

“How many of us need to be in medical beds?” Curly would give a raspy snort, as Anya reached her hand out. He would lean his head over, and she would give it a stroke. As if all his hair never burned off. A means of holding his hand, in a way, compared to just grasping a limb.

She didn’t need children.

She had all of you.

What else could a woman want?

Since you were willing to read through this story to the end, and get a nice in depth look on the importance of such why not donate to some organizations? : D

Planned Parenthood

Nation Network For Abortion Funds

National Abortion Federation

The Bridge Alliance

The Satanic Temple

ActBlue

No worry on donating. Spreading awareness and signing petitions still help! The more people learn and understand the better! Could also like reblog with other organizations or petitions!

Abortion is healthcare!

[occamstfs]

Roommates’ Trivial Tiff

Pretty standard nerdy asshole to himbo TF, who doesn't love some cosmic justice ! -Occam

“You just don’t understand what it’s like dude. You have no idea how hard all this stuff is for me.” Brock was struggling to get through to his roommate, someone he has time and time again been more than cordial with. In response Harvey scoffs and rolls his eyes refusing to engage and instead doubling down, “I’m sure it’s real difficult with all your paid tutors and your-” 

“You’re not even listening bro! You like to think you’re so elevated, like you have all the answers but you don’t even try to understand what anyone else is going through.” Harvey grimaces and briefly tosses about whether or not this is true but stubbornly neglects to internalize the criticism, “Uhh, I do too?” Brock bites his tongue to prevent just blowing up at his roommate and instead he tries a different angle, “Oh yeah? If that’s the case then, bet you know a lot about me huh? Since we’ve been roommates for a year now,” pausing as he narrows his eyes briefly at Harvey, “and ostensibly we’re friends right?”

Harvey struggles not to display his ever present irritation as he retorts, “Of course we are, uh, dude.” Brock does a better job hiding his intentions as he issues a challenge, “so if we were to say, quiz each other you think you’d come up on top lil dude?” With this gauntlet laid there is little recourse in Harvey’s mind but to accept it, there are few times he enjoys showing off so much as in a trivia contest. So what he might have a less than pristine record of respecting oafs like his roommate, he is certainly not to lose in any battle of the wits regardless of topic or stipulations there may be.

Brock puts out his hand and states the stakes, “You can of course bow out whenever, but uh, how about every question the winner takes something from the loser?” Harvey was resolved to win before hearing the terms and is now spitefully even more eager now as he eyes Brock’s side of the room looking for whatever his prize is sure to be.

Without any further clarification Brock promptly launches into the game, “I guess we’ll start real easy yeah? Only fair.” Harvey feels resentment start to brew as he feels he’s being talked down to as Brock goes on, “For starters then, What’s my major?” Harvey audibly gulps and feels his face blanche as he scrambles to find such an incredibly simple answer. This is such an obvious and pressing piece of information it would be impossible not to have it on deck.

Seeing the hesitation Brock laughs incredulously, “God dude are you kidding? How could you not know this, I-” He shifts his jaw waiting for the second shoe to drop as it is suddenly clear he is about to clean house, this asshole is going to learn respect by hook or by crook. Harvey’s eyes that were just hungrily looking through Brock’s possessions now retread their path, searching for the answer, his eyes linger on some sports bandages and protein powder and he kicks himself for forgetting. “Well duh dude, you’re doing a sports medicine or a trainer degree or whatever. Sorry that I forgot what the proper name is, it’s not exactly high in the list of things I need to know.”

Brock stares down at the clueless nerd before him and slowly shakes his head. “Not even close Harv. It’s-” Before he can finish though Harvey stands and shouts, “Don’t fucking call me that! I bet you don’t know mine either!” This leaves Brock aghast, he crosses his arms and narrows his eyes, “Of course I fucking do! You never shut up about it! I’m lucky if my headphones can block out you whining about homework while also constantly talking yourself up! It’s so, fucking, annoying!”

Hurt by this despite his typical apathy to others Harvey starts up once more, “Okay but you didn’t say-” “Computer Engineering.” Harvey blushes in shame, not over his disrespect but of getting the question wrong. Suddenly there’s a hum in the room and the shadows in the corner grow darker and Brock looks around, “Well I suppose that question really tees me up on what to take huh? I’ll take your major.”

“Wha?” caught on the other foot Harvey blinks and sees that his textbooks and assignments are suddenly piled on Brock’s desk. He feels anxiety rise in his chest unsure of what has happened though confident this must be a prank or something. “No no no that can’t be right? What is happening?” He then returns to look at his roommate once more, a scowl plastered on his face as Brock who, despite his impressive stature always aims to present as kind and gentle, cannot help but smirk as he feels he has gotten one over on this jerk.

He stretches, exposing his midriff and flexing  his arms behind his head, perhaps to try and allure or intimidate Harvey, he’s not sure, but Harvey is not going to just take this sitting down.Though at the present, he is too uncomfortable to even vocalize his discomfort as he stands there trying not to shake. Instead Brock begins once more, “Urgh kinda see what all that complaining was about now Harv, kinda got a lot on my plate now hah!”

Harvey stares daggers at his roommate, “Brock I don’t know what kind of nonsense is going through your dumbass ox brain. But it’s not funny, I’m sure you’re used to bullying little g-”

“Excuse me? I’m a bully!? I know you’re not saying that, I go out of my way to be kind, even to little chip on their shoulder assholes like you. I just,” Brock takes a deep breath and flexes his jaw before he continues. “It doesn’t matter actually. I trust you have a vested interest in trying again though right? Surely you want your major back?”

At the moment Harvey is caught between the idea that this is some kind of Christmas Carol-ass dream where he’s supposed to learn a lesson or once more that this is just a prank by Brock. Amenable as he’s always been, Harvey's convinced that behind this lunkhead is the vitriol of the typical jerk jock. In this impossible chance that this is reality though, he can’t just give up his major. He needs it to be an, uh? God what was, no what is his major anyway? 

Harvey looks around in shock as he suddenly can’t bring his current course schedule to his mind, but he was literally in class this morning right? He feels his coursework draining from his mind as fear and rage begin to rise in his frail body. Images of lecture halls and professors flash through his mind before they just as swiftly dissipate, somewhere within him deeper than memory he feels that he was studying something with numbers. Mathematics, physics, engineering, something he was good at. He is determined to get that back as he speaks up finally, “What is the next question.”

Brock smiles and toys around in his head, confident that he will end up on top. “How about you pick this one, give you a fighting chance.” Harvey purses his lips and struggles to produce a question that he knows the answer to that his roommate will not. Oh duh, he’ll just ask him a math question, easy! Certainly not the aim of the game but Harvey just needed to get his life back. “What’s a derivative.” 

“Kinda not in the spirit of the game dude but whatever. I took calc you know. It’s the rate of change in response to a variable. Now since you’re still being an ass how about I lob one back? How about you derivative 𝑓(𝑥)= 2cos⁡(𝑥)−6sec⁡(𝑥)+3?” Harvey is flat stunned, this is some entry level shit but he cannot for the life of him bring the information to mind. He’s just as sharp as he always has been but anything beyond rudimentary trig is continuing to trickle out of his mind. He meekly chuckles out, “uh easy, it’s f(x) equals, uh tan-”

There’s a blaring in his head as both men are aware of his immediate slip up. Energy once more rises in the air as Brock looks down almost pitifully at his roommate this time. “Now I am sorry for this Harvey but, oof that course load! Like you so relish to say, I am just not that bright hm?” Harvey shakes his head as he realizes the horror about to occur. Brock looks a little uncomfortable as he continues, “After failing to pull your little gotcha, I think I’ll just go ahead and have your intelligence.” 

Both men are instantly struck with headaches the likes of which neither could endure under normal circumstances. As soon as the pain arrives though it is converted into a deep profane pleasure. Pins and needles fill Brock’s mind as it becomes heavy. Ideas and understanding fill his mind as a euphoric warmth flows through him. Harvey had enjoyed learning without truly lifting a finger, he had flourished and gained knowledge through no effort on his part but simple absorption. Brock is overcome with the ease at which he will now flow through life. Equally is he overcome by the ecstasy within his body as it only continues to heighten.

Opposite him Harvey clutches at his head as now not only do his learned experiences at university vanish, but all of his capabilities as a student and academic. Even the pleading within his mind slows down as he feels his ability to swiftly process information breaks down. Harvey turns from the man across from him as Brock’s hands feel up and down his musculature in rapturous delight, just in time to see whatever books and tomes he had collected as trophies begin to fade into the aether along with his memories of reading them. He looks down at his hands in confusion and horror, even with his unaddled mind at full steam he could not make sense of what has befallen him. He knows this is not right.

He is unable to find any answers, though as he searches his brain he begins to find a pleasant warmth in the vacuum where there once was knowledge. While his mind has been emptied, the bulge in his crotch demands his attention, which shall likely be a constant issue now that his mind shall evermore be less than preoccupied. He feels his mouth start to fill with drool as he looks down at his cock as it almost feels larger than it should be. He almost laughs at the idea that from now on he may fully be thinking with his cock. He opens his mouth allowing drool to spill out which shocks him back to sense and he turns around to demand that Brock return this all to sense immediately.

Brock for his part is reclined in a chair just rubbing his cock over his shorts almost forgetting about what they had been doing not seconds earlier. He laughs as he sees the expression on Harvey’s face, “Woah dude sorry about that, got lost in my own mind for a second there! No wonder you had, or have rather, such an attitude problem. It all just came so easy to you didn’t it? I mean we could keep going if you want, what else do you have to lose yeah?” Harvey wipes the drool from his face and takes stock, he can still read, he is pretty confident he still passed high school, he remembers his life before whatever hell is currently happening as well as whatever this new reality is. He nods his head and pushes his erection down as it continues to rise upon seeing his roommate’s cocky repose. He answers, “let’s keep going. Your question right?”

Harvey can’t help but trace Brock’s traps as he shrugs, “If you insist lil bro. What’s my middle name?” He knows this one for sure, he would bring it out to tease his roommate as needed. Brock slams his arm down in excitement and shouts, “fucking Laurel!” then he recalls this is only half the battle, Brock must also get his wrong, “what’s mine?” Brock smirks once more and laughs as he stretches to scratch his back, his roommate hungrily staring, “you don’t have one dude”

The energy rushing between the two men is drastically different this time. Unlike the pleasurable prickles of knowledge or the soothing burn of loss there is a direct, deeper connection between the two. Brock’s grin grows wider as understands, “Oh I getcha, question’s a tie so we share the spoils Harv. Only fair that since you’ve the mind of a what, meathead? May as well have the body of one.”

Harvey watches as his roommate takes off his shirt, he feels a warmth in his chest as he stares directly at Brock’s pecs. His breath catches as he watches his roommate flex them and he feels a nervous energy begin to surge within his own. He’s never had pecs before but he feels his chest pushing, growing, into his shirt. He sees his nipples harden and grow too large to ever hide as his chest expands. His swallows to stop from drooling once more as he sees Brock pose and flex his massive biceps, forcing a burning delight down the whole of Harvey’s arms. He matches the pose of the powerful man he has spoken nothing but ill of and flexes, sweat immediately staining through his shirt as the energy and strain heats his body beyond reason.

At the same time both men drop into a crunch, there is a loud tear as the pants of both men tear as they reach the lowest point in the crunch as Harvey’s ass bursts larger and his thighs swell with strength well enough to carry his increasingly top heavy torso. Not only is Harvey to gain the muscle of a tight jock, but the masculinity expected. The cock he has been til now proud enough of pulses with his heartbeat, with each pump it gorges larger, veins thick as the ones surging down his biceps force his cock thicker and further down his strained shorts. He tears at his pants to free his bulge as his balls bloat to the size of eggs, they pull tight ass they’re exposed to the air and all the soreness, strain, and pain of his still growing body becomes agonizing delight.

Harvey’s eyes water as he struggles to even stay cogent with the pleasure and power coursing through him. He smells his new musk breaking through his senses. Through the burning bedlam across his body he feels a soothing burn as hair begins to sprout and thicken where every man should make clear his masculinity. His pubes thicken and curl beyond his waistline and his pits grow wild and begin to spread to make it clear they, nor his musk, can ever be contained.

He lies, sits, writhes, flexes, exists in nothing but pleasure for some time, no longer concerned for his lost intelligence, beyond the care of his education. His hands, larger and painted with still thickening hair, press tight against his body as he feels the new contours of his body. Each new valley and mountain is a testament to the ecstasy he shall now prioritize above all. Until his roommate’s voice breaks through the haze, “Fuck bro you’re really feeling yourself huh?” Harvey’s eyes open to see Brock’s arrogant sneer has only grown worse as he has contendly watch Harvey lavish his new corpus.

Harvey meets it with a scowl and Brock tilts his head, “Want to do one last question then, bro?” His smile grows tight as he tries not to laugh as the appellation of bro has become the paramount definition of this once genius. Harvey just nods his head, still understandably disoriented as he lies in a pool of his own sweat and pre that remains dripping directly onto the floor. Brock motions for him to ask whatever the presumably final question is but is met with a grunt and a wave of the hand. Brock grimaces slightly, “if you insist bud,” he grimaces slightly as he looks down at the man. Asshole he may have be, may still be even, surely there’s something Brock could do to fix even that. He leans to whisper the question in Harvey’s ear, “what color are my eyes.” 

Between grunts, Harvey strains to look at his roommate only to find them obviously closed. His body contorts with pain and pleasure as he feels the throes of defeat and one final lose begin to seize him. He groans out through clenched teeth as his jaw widens and his brows thicken as changes already begin to work upon his mind, “don’t… know…” Brock nods and sits next to his roommate laying Harvey’s head on his lap. At the point it would be a kindness for the man to forget his life before, and that is exactly what he is to do. 

Brock removes the memories and identity of the sour nerd that made life perpetually unpleasant not only for him, but anyone unlucky enough to grace his presence. His breathing speeds up as his body heat rises beyond imagination, sweat turning to steam in the cold dorm room as he shakes his head and clenches his fists. He writhes only briefly, each flex of his body a final protestation of Harvey as Brock erases even his name from his head. 

After a minute of this his body goes still before he opens his eyes blearily and groans. Still lying in Brock’s lap he stretches his arms, turning to smell his impossibly rank pits before turning it into a flex as he must do anytime he raises them. Brock watches this with trepidation, unsure of who exactly his roommate is to be now before suddenly a name surges into his mind, Bull. Perfect fodder for the jerk he once was and an apt name for the behemoth lying on his lap. Testing the waters Brock pats his chest to wake him up, “Morning Bull.”

He yawns and scratches at the same stubbled face he has always known and he sits up, “urgh got a massive headache bro, must have gone pretty hard to have a hangover this bad huhuh! Wanna go grab brekkie and hit up the gym?” Brock stifles a smirk and helps his roommate up to standing, slightly surprised to see him standing taller than himself before responding, “You got it big guy, how about you get some clothes on first though right?” Bull guffaws, looking down at his hairy sweat-drenched body as he throws an arm around his roommate, cock bobbing around in the open air, still chubbed up. “What would I do without you bro huhuh!” 

Brock looks to see all of Bull’s tops have changed to stringers and tanks. Where Harvey had nothing but pants Bull has piles of unwashed athletic shorts, one of which he promptly throws on, going commando. Seeing Brock watch him, Bull grabs at his crotch and juts at the door, “Come on bro! Faster we get a pump in faster we can get back here and have some fun dude.” 

With that Bull again throws his arm around Brock, once more smelling his b.o. as he almost deliberately spreads it on his roommate’s neck, like an animal marking its territory. The two then off to start their day, in Bull’s mind as they always have. Brock feels his crotch grow weightier as the amble down the hall, unsure if he’s made a horrible mistake in all this. Who is he to say what is too far in acts of cosmic retribution. Brock is certain at the end of the day he and Bull are at least to have quite a bit of fun.

[cumironi]

SUGURUUUUU, DO SOMETHING : GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU.

you and gojo are insufferable, especially when gojo decides he wants to be annoying and tries to get under your skin. you always come running to geto and telling him to do something about gojo.

warning. established relationship! satosugu, annoying gojo, crack, fluff.

dating two people means geto has to face the reality that things are never going to go smoothly, especially when one of those people is gojo satoru. gojo is, without a doubt, the most chaotic, arrogant, idiotic, and downright annoying person geto has ever known. but somehow, despite all that, he still fell for him. what makes it worse—or better, depending on the day—is that you’re just as bad, if not worse. you challenge gojo at every turn, matching his energy with your own brand of chaos, bickering with him constantly, pushing his buttons just because you know you can. and when gojo gets too insufferable, you always end up running to geto, whining and complaining about how gojo’s being too annoying, like it’s the end of the world.

it’s like living with siblings sometimes. gojo is like the older brother who lives to annoy, constantly teasing and provoking you with his smug remarks and over-the-top antics. he’ll say something completely ridiculous, like how he's the strongest and therefore always right, and you’ll immediately fire back, crossing your arms and throwing in your own sarcastic comment, refusing to let him win. you’re like the little sister who refuses to back down, always ready to bicker, never letting gojo have the last word. and of course, you make sure to drag geto into it every single time.

“suguruuu, did you hear what satoru said?” you’d whine, stomping over dramatically to where geto is probably trying to have a moment of peace. “he’s being impossible again!”

geto would sigh, watching you pout like a child, before glancing over at gojo, who’s probably grinning like the troublemaker he is, arms crossed, loving every second of your frustration. this dynamic has become part of geto’s everyday life—being stuck between two forces of chaos, both of you feeding off each other’s energy, sometimes making geto feel like the only adult in the room. but despite the headache that comes with it, there’s something endearing about the way you two interact. you and gojo fight like siblings, but underneath all the bickering, there’s a bond that only makes sense in its own twisted way.

sometimes, geto wonders how he even manages to deal with it. it’s not like he signed up to play referee between two people who are more alike than they care to admit. but somehow, he’s found himself in the middle, always caught between your dramatic complaints and gojo’s smug responses. there are moments where he swears he’ll lose his mind—like when you both argue over something ridiculous, like who ate the last piece of mochi, or when gojo does something outrageous just to get a reaction out of you. yet, even in the middle of the chaos, he can’t help but feel a strange sense of affection for the both of you.

and honestly, you both love dragging geto into your mess. if gojo’s teasing you too much, you don’t hesitate to run to geto, complaining in the most dramatic way possible, arms flailing as you explain how impossible gojo is being. and if you’re being a little too chaotic, geto is often the one who has to rein you in, pulling you away from gojo before the two of you tear the whole place apart with your constant bickering. sometimes, geto feels more like a parent than a boyfriend, but he’s learned to accept that this is just part of dating you two.

there are moments, though, when the chaos dies down, and you and gojo fall into a rare moment of peace, and that’s when geto is reminded why he stays. because despite the constant teasing, the never-ending arguments, and the headache-inducing energy you both bring into his life, he can’t imagine being without either of you. sure, it’s exhausting, but it’s also what makes life with you two so full of laughter, even if it’s at his expense half the time.

GOJO AND HIS STUPID MOCHI

just like right now, you’re lying on the carpet floor on your stomach, phone in hand, scrolling aimlessly through whatever can hold your attention for more than five seconds. the room is quiet, save for the soft sound of geto flipping the pages of the book he’s engrossed in, sitting on the couch just a few feet away from you. it’s peaceful—something that doesn’t happen often when gojo’s around, but you’re savoring the moment.

that peace doesn’t last long, of course. out of nowhere, gojo saunters in, mochi in hand, and without warning, he kicks your leg playfully. not hard, but enough to get a reaction out of you.

“hey!” you shout, glaring up at him from your spot on the floor, annoyance already building as he grins down at you like the menace he is. he’s chewing his stupid mochi like it’s the most important thing in the world, completely unbothered by the fact that he’s just disrupted your peace. typical gojo.

geto rolls his eyes and sighs as gojo enters the room, immediately breaking the tranquil atmosphere that was there only moments ago. and of course, it’s gojo who’s behind it, kicking at your leg like a child trying to get attention.

geto watches as you glare up at him, annoyance evident on your face. gojo only grins back, chewing obnoxiously on his mochi, completely oblivious to the scene he’s causing. geto shakes his head, can already feel a headache coming on.

“what?” gojo says, feigning innocence, though that smug grin on his face gives him away instantly. “just checking if you’re still alive down there.” he takes another obnoxiously loud bite of his mochi, crumbs falling onto the floor next to you.

“ugh, satoru, stop being annoying,” you groan, dramatically throwing your phone aside as you sit up, crossing your arms in a pout. “can’t you eat somewhere else? you’re getting crumbs all over the place!”

gojo smirks at your annoyance, clearly loving every second of it. he continues to chew on his mochi, purposely making extra noise, just to get under your skin.

“what’s the big deal?” he asks, feigning innocence once again. “i’m just eating my snack. not my fault you’re lying on the floor like a lazy cat.”geto can’t help but shake his head at gojo’s antics. he’s seen this scene play out countless times, and he knows exactly where it’s going.

you groan in frustration, pushing gojo's leg away, though he just keeps nudging you, clearly enjoying how riled up you're getting. “satoru, stop being so annoying already,” you whine, glaring at him as he takes another exaggeratedly loud bite of his mochi.

gojo snickers, enjoying your annoyance far too much, like it's the source of his entertainment. he keeps nudging you with his leg, purposely annoying you more as he chews obnoxiously on his mochi.

“aww, what’s the matter?” he asks, still grinning smugly. “can’t handle a little noise while you're sprawled out on the floor like a lazy cat?”

gojo takes another obnoxiously loud bite of his mochi, crumbs falling onto the floor next to you, making a mess as he continues to torment you. he seems to be having the time of his life, feeding off your irritation like it’s some sort of energy source.

you squeal in disgust when a bit of mochi cream falls onto your thigh. “ugh, satoru, that’s disgusting!” you snap, wiping at the sticky mess, glaring at him with pure irritation. “can you eat like a human being for once?”

gojo just snickers, clearly amused by your reaction. he leans down a bit, his grin growing even wider. “what? it’s just a little cream,” he says, eyes gleaming with mischief. “no need to freak out.”

you huff, trying to wipe the cream off as best as you can, but it just smears, and your frustration grows. “you’re such a slob! and i’m not lazy, by the way,” you add, shooting him a glare. “i was just relaxing before you came in here, ruining everything.” gojo’s, eyes twinkling with amusement as he nudges your leg with his foot again.

he chuckles at your reaction, clearly loving how worked up you’re getting over the little cream mess. he leans down further, his grin practically splitting his face. “oh, come on,” he teases, “it’s just a little cream. it’s not going to kill you.”

he watches you struggle to wipe it off, the cream only smearing everywhere, making the mess even worse. he can’t help but find it amusing, watching you get irritated over something so small. “and relax, lazy cat,” he grins, nudging your leg again with his foot.

gojo continues to grin, enjoying how easily he gets under your skin. “aww, look at you,” he teases, “you’re so worked up over a little mess.” he nudges you with his foot, again, clearly trying to provoke a reaction from you. “what’s the matter, too lazy to clean yourself up?”

you glare daggers at him, clearly fed up with his antics. you try to brush the cream off your leg, but it just keeps spreading, making the mess worse.

“i’m not lazy,” you protest, frustration evident in your tone. “i was just hanging out, minding my own business, when you stormed in here and ruined everything!”

geto sighs loudly, shaking his head. this interaction has become all too familiar to him. gojo’s relentless teasing and your over-the-top reaction. he knows it’s not that big a deal, but somehow, the two of you always manage to turn the smallest things into a full-on argument. he remains at his spot, silently observing, wondering if he should intervene or just let it play out, like he always does.

gojo leans even further down, his face now hovering just above yours, his smirk growing wider. he knows exactly how to push your buttons, and he’s enjoying every second of it.“aww, are you pouting now?” he coos, his tone dripping with condescension. “do you need me to clean your leg for you, or are you actually going to get off your lazy ass and do it yourself?”

you narrow your eyes, glaring up at gojo as he hovers above you with that smug smirk. his teasing, as usual, has hit just the right nerve. but instead of giving him the satisfaction of a full-blown argument, you huff in frustration and shift your gaze to geto, your voice turning into a dramatic whine.

“suguruuuu,” you whining as you push yourself up from the floor, marching over to the couch where geto sits, his book still open in his lap. “satoru’s being annoying again.” you plop down on his lap, leaning against his shoulder, seeking refuge from gojo’s relentless teasing.

geto can’t help but feel a mixture of affection and amusement at your dramatic plea for his intervention. he shuts his book and sets it aside, wrapping his arms around you as you settle onto his lap, seeking refuge from gojo’s constant teasing.

his expression calm, though there’s a faint amusement in his eyes. “isn’t he always?” he says with a sigh, but there’s a soft undertone in his voice that shows he’s used to playing the peacemaker between the two of you.

gojo, still lounging on the floor, just snickers from behind you. “huh? running to suguru now? can’t handle me on your own?” he teases, clearly having the time of his life watching you pout and whine.

you roll your eyes, crossing your arms as you lean further into geto’s shoulder. “he’s insufferable, do something,” you mutter, as if that’ll somehow make gojo stop, but deep down, you know it only fuels his antics further.

geto lets out a weary sigh as he rubs your back. he knows that asking him to ‘do something’ is almost pointless—trying to stop gojo’s antics is like trying to contain a hurricane—but he still gives it a shot for your sake.

he calls over to gojo in a gentle tone, “satoru, quit tormenting her.” but of course, that only makes gojo snicker loudly with glee, clearly enjoying the chaos he’s causing. “aww, but it’s so much fun seeing her all riled up!”

gojo pushes himself off the floor and saunters over to the couch, a mischievous glint in his eyes. he plops himself down on the opposite end, intentionally sprawling out and taking up as much space as possible. “besides,” he smirks, “she makes it so easy. look at her, all pouty and moping around. it’s adorable.”

HERE’S COME THE HEADLOCK!

as you casually strolled into the kitchen, your attention was glued to your phone, scrolling through messages and notifications. you could hear the sounds of gojo and geto chatting, their voices a comforting background hum.

gojo, ever the instigator, couldn’t resist the urge to mess with you. as you approached, he feigned a wild punch aimed right at your cheek, but in exaggerated slow motion, he pulled back just before contact, ending up with a playful poke instead.

you tried to brush it off, rolling your eyes and continuing to focus on your phone, hoping he’d take the hint. but gojo was relentless. he grinned widely, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he repeated the act, pretending to punch and then poking your cheek again.

“c’mon, don’t be so serious!” he taunted, a laugh escaping him as he leaned closer to you. “just trying to lighten the mood!”

finally, your patience wore thin. you glared at him, annoyance bubbling up. “satoru, stop it!” you exclaimed, your voice a mix of irritation and amusement. “why are you like this?”

gojo, hearing the change in your tone, couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer. he loved this game you played, the back and forth of irritation and affection.

he stood a little straighter, a smirk spreading across his face. “what’s the matter? can’t handle a little teasing?” gojo asked, his hand reaching out to poke at your cheek again. “i’m just having some fun, princess. lighten up a little.”

as you dodged to the side, trying to escape gojo's poking fingers, you couldn’t help but let out a frustrated huff. “you’re so annoying!” you exclaimed, rolling your eyes dramatically.

but before you could fully escape, gojo was faster. in one smooth motion, he snaked an arm around your neck and pulled you into a playful headlock, grinning widely as he held you tight against him. “annoying? me?” he teased, his voice dripping with mock innocence. “never! i’m just making sure you know who the real boss is here.”

you squirmed in his grip, trying to push him away, but it was no use; he was far too strong. “satoru, let me go!” you whined, despite yourself as he tousled your hair playfully.

geto, watching the two of you from the kitchen counter, chuckled softly at the sight. it was the same old routine, gojo playing the role of the annoying yet endearing partner and you fighting a losing battle against his antics.

he continued to lean against the counter, sipping his coffee as he observed. his eyes glinted with amusement and a touch of jealousy— jealousy that he wasn’t the one holding you close, yet amused at how you never seemed able to say no to gojo’s playful teasing.

gojo held you in the headlock, still grinning as he effortlessly held you against him. he enjoyed the feeling of you squirming in his grip, even as you protested. “what’s wrong, princess?” he teased, his fingers gently tousling your hair. “can’t handle a little affectionate torment?”

he chuckled, enjoying the feeling of his stronger grip against your much gentler one. “just admit it, you love it deep down,” he said, his voice oozing with mischief.

you squirmed in gojo's grip, feeling the warmth radiating from him, and let out a determined huff. “stop it! let me go!” you protested, playfully hitting his arm with all your might, though your strength barely made a dent against his muscle.

gojo only chuckled, unfazed by your attempts to free yourself. “not a chance,” he replied, amusement dancing in his eyes. “i’m just giving you some much-needed attention.”

you pouted, trying to muster the most indignant expression you could manage while still fighting back a smile. “i don’t need attention from you, you big dork!” you exclaimed, but the way your voice cracked slightly betrayed your amusement.

geto, still leaning against the counter, couldn’t help but laugh at the playful banter between you two. “just give in, princess, it’s easier that way,” he chimed in, leaning forward to watch the two of you, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

“never!” you shot back, determined not to let gojo win this round, even as you felt an annoyance bubbling up inside you.

gojo smirked, clearly enjoying the game of cat and mouse. he could feel the fight slowly but surely leaving your body, replaced by the telltale signs of your impending surrender.

he chuckled at your stubborn refusal, amused by your attempt to hold out. “oh, c’mon princess, you know you can’t resist me. just give in and admit you’re having fun.” and geto, watching the interaction, couldn’t help but chime in once more, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “he’s right, you know. you always lose at this game.”

you groaned in annoyance, tilting your head back to look at geto with a dramatic pout. “suguru, do something about this,” you whined, exasperation dripping from your voice. “why do you always let him bully me?”

geto chuckled softly, his expression softening at your plea. he pushed himself off from the counter and sauntered over, feigning contemplation as his eyes flicked from you to gojo and back again.

he reached out, a hand gently tousling your hair in a comforting gesture. “oh, my princess,” he said, his voice taking on a playful tone, “don’t pretend you don’t enjoy the attention. this is just how satoru shows his love, in his own obnoxious way.”

gojo, still holding you in the headlock, snickered at geto’s remark. “hey, hey, i resemble that remark,” he said, feigning offense. “i may be obnoxious, but it’s all in good fun, and you both love it.”

and geto, still standing next to the two of you, gave a good-natured roll of his eyes. “yeah, yeah, we know,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “just try not to torment her too much, alright? she’s delicate.”

you groaned dramatically, rolling your eyes as you tried to swat geto’s hand away from your hair. “his way sucks, and it’s so annoying!” you exclaimed, frustration bubbling up inside you. “why can’t he just be normal for once?”

gojo chuckled at your outburst, enjoying the heat rising in your cheeks. he didn’t let up on the headlock, still holding you tight against him. “don’t get your panties in a twist, princess,” he taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. “we both know you secretly love it when i get under your skin.”

geto, still standing nearby, couldn’t resist the opportunity to chime in. “oh, she absolutely loves it,” he agreed, his eyes dancing with amusement. “don’t let her fool you. she’d be bored to death if you suddenly decided to drop the teasing.”

you rolled your eyes dramatically, feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck. “oh, please, both of you can just fuck off!” you shot back, your annoyance laced with a hint of laughter. “it’s not cute, and i’m not bored! i’m just trying to live my life without getting headlocked!”

gojo, still holding you tight, chuckled at your outburst. he loved seeing you worked up, even if it was out of irritation. “aw, come on,” he taunted, his voice dripping with feigned innocence, “you can’t deny you love it when i get possessive.”

and geto, still standing nearby, gave a sarcastic clap. “and the truth comes out,” he teased, his voice filled with an air of smugness. “she’s just a little tsundere, that’s all.”

IT’S MY SPOT!

it was one of those peaceful evenings, the kind where geto, you, and gojo had nowhere else to be, and the three of you had finally decided to relax and watch a movie together. the sofa bed had been pulled out, ready for the cozy night ahead, but as always, you were taking your time making sure everything was perfectly comfortable.

geto sat back, his legs stretched out lazily as he watched you standing in front of the sofa bed, already busy preparing your spot between him and gojo. he could see the concentrated look on your face as you fluffed the pillows just right, adjusting them over and over until you were satisfied. then you placed your favorite plushies in their usual spots, one tucked against the side of the pillow and another by your arm, always close to you during movie night. next, you unfolded your personal blanket and placed it carefully under the larger one that you’d be sharing with both geto and gojo, making sure everything was exactly how you liked it.

geto found it all a bit amusing, how much effort you put into making your little spot as cozy as possible. he knew this was your ritual, and he’d seen it play out countless times, but there was something about watching you in the soft light of the living room, focused on creating your perfect space, that made him smile.

“all set?” he asked with a small grin as you finally stepped back to inspect your work.

you huffed softly, giving the blankets one last tug before turning around. “almost. i’m going to grab my fluffy socks and some snacks,” you announced, heading off to the bedroom first.

as you disappeared down the hallway, geto noticed gojo’s eyes subtly following your movements, an amused grin forming on his face as he stared at the perfectly arranged spot you’d just made between them. he chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he glanced over at geto.

“she really goes all out, huh?” gojo said, smirking. “look at that—it’s like she’s building a little nest in the middle of the couch. i mean, she's got the pillows, plushies, her own blanket... i’m starting to feel like i’m intruding on her fortress of comfort.”

geto chuckled in response, his gaze still fond as he glanced at the empty space between them. “yeah, she’s always like that,” he replied softly. “everything’s gotta be just right before she settles in.”

gojo grinned wider, leaning back against the sofa bed as he stretched his arms behind his head. “can’t blame her, though. i’d make a nest like that too if i knew how. it looks damn cozy.”

as soon as gojo eyed your perfectly arranged spot for a little too long, geto knew something was up. gojo's smirk grew wider, and before geto could say anything, gojo moved quickly, diving into your cozy nest like it was the most inviting thing he’d ever seen. he sprawled out dramatically, kicking your pillows out of place, knocking over your plushies, and pulling the blanket up around himself as if it were his own.

he let out an exaggerated, satisfied moan, stretching luxuriously as if he had just found the perfect spot in the world. “ahhh, this is nice,” gojo said, grinning like a child who just got away with something mischievous.

geto frowned immediately, shaking his head. “you know she’s going to be pissed when she sees you, right?” he muttered, watching as gojo made himself even more comfortable in what was once your perfectly prepared spot. “you just destroyed her entire setup.”

gojo snickered at geto’s comment, thoroughly enjoying himself as he lounged in the cozy spot you had specifically arranged for yourself. “oh, she’ll get over it,” he said with a wave of his hand, sounding unconcerned. “it’s not like the whole spot is ruined. there’s still room for her. probably.”

he stretched out his long limbs, claiming even more of the space for himself, making himself look extra comfortable. “and besides, this is comfy as hell. i don’t know why she always fusses so much.”

geto rolled his eyes, his expression somewhere between fond and exasperated at gojo's antics. “because that’s how she likes things,” he pointed out patiently, used to gojo's lack of respect for personal boundaries. “you know she has her rituals. you've seen her do it countless times.”

geto rolled his eyes at gojo’s indifference. “you’re such a jerk,” he muttered, shaking his head.

he couldn’t help but notice how comfortable gojo looked, practically lounging like a king in what was supposed to be your spot. “and can you stop spreading out like that? you’re hogging the blankets.”

as gojo made himself even more comfortable in your spot, geto couldn’t help but be amused by the whole situation. he knew you were going to be absolutely furious when you returned to find your meticulously arranged spot claimed by gojo, but there was nothing he could do to stop it.

he sighed, shaking his head fondly. “she’ll be mad, though, when she comes back and finds you all over her spot.”

gojo snickered, unfazed by geto's words. “oh, she'll live,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. “she can find another spot. it’s not like this couch is tiny. and if not, she can just share.”

he pulled the blankets up even higher around himself, snuggling into the comfortable spot like he had no intention of moving. “besides, with me here, i’ve already made this spot a million times more awesome. she should be thanking me, really.”

geto rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed by gojo’s antics. he knew exactly what gojo was doing— stirring up trouble, as always. “just don’t upset her too much,” he warned, although there was a hint of resignation in his voice.

gojo chuckled, unbothered by geto's warning. “oh, please. when do i ever upset her?” he teased, a cocky smirk on his face. “she loves me too much even if she says otherwise.”

geto shot him a skeptic look, knowing exactly how gojo’s antics always managed to get under your skin. “yeah, yeah. just don’t go too far. you know how she gets when you mess with her routine.”

and right on cue, your high-pitched, exaggerated whine echoed through the living room as you padded quickly across the wooden floor, your socks barely muffling the sound of your tiny footsteps. the moment your eyes landed on gojo, lounging all too comfortably in your carefully crafted nest, your face dropped in disbelief.

“satoruuu!” you practically shrieked, voice rising in frustration as you watched him ruin all your hard work. without even realizing it, you mindlessly dropped the bag of snacks you were holding onto the floor, the scattered contents only adding to the chaos.

“you ruined my spot!” you complained, rushing closer to the sofa bed, eyes wide with dismay. gojo, of course, didn't even flinch-his grin only grew wider as he stretched out even more, thoroughly enjoying your reaction.

geto chuckled under his breath, sitting back and watching the scene unfold before him. he had known this moment was inevitable, and here it was, playing out exactly as he expected.

gojo, not one to back down from a situation he’s created, only smirked wider at your outburst, enjoying your frustration. “oh, relax,” he said, lounging even more comfortably in the spot you had so meticulously crafted. “there’s plenty of room for you. join the party.”

you narrowed your eyes at gojo, clearly not amused by his casual response. without missing a beat, you climbed onto the sofa bed, grabbing your fluffy socks that you had planned to wear and immediately began hitting him with them. “that’s my spot!” you whined, smacking him lightly with each word for emphasis. “i made it for myself, not for your annoying ass!”

geto snorted, trying to disguise his amusement as you vented your frustrations on gojo. he knew deep down you'd been looking forward to your meticulously arranged spot on the couch, and gojo's intrusion had ruined your plans.

gojo, however, showed no sign of remorse. he continued to chuckle, attempting to swat away your attacks with your socks. “ow, ow, ow,” he complained in a mocking voice, “geez, take it easy! what’s the big deal anyway? it’s just a spot on the couch!”

gojo laughed, his smirk never faltering as he half-heartedly shielded himself from your sock attacks. “what happened to sharing?” he teased, clearly unbothered by your protests. he tilted his head towards you, his grin still infuriatingly playful. “besides, you didn’t say it was off-limits.”

you huffed, glaring at him before turning your attention to the mess of pillows and blankets he had created. “ugh, you ruined everything,” you groaned dramatically, tossing your socks to the side. “it was perfect before you decided to lounge all over it.”

with a determined huff, you placed both hands on gojo’s side and began pushing his body, trying to reclaim your spot. “moveee!” you whined, but despite your efforts, his stupidly heavy body barely budged an inch. gojo, still lounging comfortably, let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying your struggle.

geto watched from the side, his expression a mix of fondness and amusement at your futile attempts to move gojo. he knew it was a lost cause, but it was entertaining to watch you try.

gojo, meanwhile, was having the time of his life. he smirked, feeling the weight of your pushes against him. “nice try,” he said, his voice dripping with feigned praise. “but you’re gonna need more than that to move me.”

frustration bubbling over, you let out a grunt and stood up on the sofa bed, glaring down at gojo. without a second thought, you lifted your foot and stepped on his thigh, giving him a few light stomps to really drive the point home. “moveee!” you huffed, each step accompanied by a demand.

gojo chuckled at your determined attempts to move him, but your stomps were far from effective. “aww, you really think stepping on me is gonna work? that’s adorable.” he replied, completely unfazed by your efforts.

he looked up at you, his smirk widening as he chuckled. “sorry, sweetheart, but you’re gonna have to try a lot harder than that if you seriously expect me to move from this spot.”

geto watched the scene unfold, his amusement growing as you continued to attempt to displace gojo from your spot. he shook his head in mock disappointment, leaning back against the sofa. “yo’re wasting your energy,” he interjected, a smirk on his face. “you know he’s not moving an inch unless he wants to.”

you let out an exaggerated, frustrated sigh, glancing over at geto with a pout as you kept stomping on gojo’s thigh. “suguruuu, do something!” you whined, clearly fed up with gojo's stubbornness. “he’s not moving, and he’s ruining my spot!”

geto couldn’t help but chuckle softly at your exaggerated frustration. seeing you stomp on gojo like an annoyed child was amusing, but he knew if it went on any longer, you'd get even more irritated. with a calm, easy smile, he glanced at gojo and spoke in a soft tone, “satoru, come on, stop annoying her and move already.”

gojo, however, seemed to be enjoying this interaction far too much. he continued to smirk as you continued to stomp on his thigh. “oh, cmon,” he chuckled, unbothered by your frustrated attacks. “it's cute watching her try to move me. she thinks she's actually doing something.”

with an exasperated groan, you got down from the sofa bed and grabbed gojo’s ankle, determined to pull him off your spot. “ugh, you’re so annoying!” you huffed, planting your feet firmly on the ground and tugging with all your might. but, of course, gojo barely budged, not even an inch.

gojo’s laughter rang out, clearly entertained by your failed attempts. “aww, look at her go,” he teased, resting his head back against the cushions. “she really thinks she can move me. it’s adorable.”

“stop laughing!” you snapped, your frustration only growing as you tugged at his ankle harder. “you’re not even trying to move!”

meanwhile, geto just watched from the sidelines, his amusement evident as he sighed softly. “satoru, don’t you think you’ve had enough fun?” he asked, though his tone was still lighthearted, knowing how stubborn both of you could be.

gojo smirked, clearly enjoying the scene he had created. “nahh, i haven’t had enough fun yet,” he chuckled, “watching her try so hard to move me is hilarious. it's like she thinks she's dealing with a regular guy, not the strongest sorcerer in the world.” he lounged even more comfortably in your spot, enjoying your futile attempts to move him. “come on, keep it up. i’m curious how long she’ll give up.”

you glared at gojo, feeling the frustration bubbling inside you. with an exasperated sigh, you threw your fluffy socks at him in a huff. “fine! you can keep the spot!” you exclaimed, your voice a mix of annoyance and defeat.

turning away, you plopped down on the edge of the sofa bed, your back facing both him and geto. you crossed your arms tightly, trying to stifle the feeling of irritation welling up inside you, but it was hard to hold back. the playful banter was fun at first, but now it just felt like you were being teased for no reason.

gojo chuckled softly, your display of frustration only fueling his amusement. he made a show of adjusting himself in your spot, lounging even more comfortably. “aw, she’s pouting,” he commented, a smug smirk on his face. “how adorable.”

geto, however, could sense the shift in your mood. he knew how much you valued your little spot on the sofa bed, and gojo's stubbornness was starting to take its toll. “satoru,” he said firmly, “that’s enough, you've had your fun. stop teasing her.”

gojo simply chuckled, unfazed by geto’s words. “oh, cmon, it’s harmless,” he replied, still lounging in your spot. “she knows i’m just messing around. no need to be so serious.”

geto's expression hardened, his patience wearing thin with gojo's stubborn attitude. “it’s not harmless when she's clearly upset,” he said sternly, “stop being a jerk and move already.”

your body began to tremble slightly as the annoyance and frustration bubbled over, and before you knew it, tears began to spill down your cheeks. you tried to hold them back, but the overwhelming feelings were too much to bear. it was like everything had built up and finally cracked open, and you couldn't help but cry from the sheer irritation of it all.

gojo's smug expression instantly melted away the moment he noticed your tears. his smirk faded, replaced by a look of surprise and even a hint of guilt. “hey...wait a minute,” he said, shifting his position to sit up properly. “don't cry, i was just messing around.”

geto, sitting nearby, instantly noticed the change in your mood as well. his expression softened, a look of concern replacing his earlier annoyance at gojo. “idiot,” he said quietly, “look what you've done...”

you felt the warmth of gojo’s hand on your shoulder, but all it did was irritate you further. with a small, shaky shrug, you tried to shake his hand off, turning your back to him as tears continued to fall. “don’t touch me,” you murmured, your voice thick with emotion.

gojo's hand hovered awkwardly in the air as you shook it off, and his heart dropped at your response. his teasing smirk had disappeared completely now, replaced by a look of genuine remorse. “princess, i... i didn't mean to make you cry,” he said, his voice filled with guilt.

geto, watching the scene unfold, felt a pang in his chest as he witnessed the sudden change in the atmosphere. he knew this was all gojo's doing, and he silently shot him an accusing glare.

gojo’s face fell as soon as he realized how deeply he'd upset you. panic flickered in his eyes as he quickly scrambled off your spot, frantically trying to put everything back exactly the way you had it. he grabbed your pillows, fluffed them awkwardly, and placed your plushies back, but everything looked off, far from the cozy nest you’d spent time making.

“look, princess, i’m moving now,” he said hurriedly, his voice shaking slightly with worry. “you can have your spot back, i’m sorry—really. i didn’t mean to upset you this much.”

he glanced at you nervously, trying to gauge your reaction, his earlier confidence completely crumbled. he wasn’t used to seeing you like this—tears falling, body shaking—and it made his heart ache. “i swear i was just playing around, baby, but... i see now i went too far.”

geto watched quietly from his spot, his accusatory glare softening as he saw gojo’s genuine attempt to fix the situation. though he didn’t say anything, he gave gojo a small nod, silently telling him that this was the right way to handle it.

as gojo sat back, giving you all the space you needed, he added softly, “please don’t cry, princess. you can have your spot back just the way you like it. i promise i’ll behave.”

you shook your head stubbornly, not wanting to face gojo right now. “no,” you said softly, your voice muffled as you moved to geto’s side instead— not the side where your spot usually are— curling up against him and burying your face in his neck. the warmth and comfort of geto’s presence calmed you, his steady heartbeat reassuring you that everything would be okay.

you could still feel gojo’s gaze on you, but you didn’t want to acknowledge it. you just wanted to escape the frustration of the moment and find solace in the familiarity of geto’s embrace. “i don’t want it anymore,” you murmured, trying to hold back the remaining tears as you clung to him, seeking comfort in the way geto always made you feel safe.

geto's arms instinctively wrapped around you, cradling you gently against his body. he held you tightly, his fingers running through your hair in a soothing motion. “shh, it's okay... there you go,” he murmured, his voice soft and comforting.

he gave another glance to gojo, noting the pained expression on his face. geto's heart ached as he saw how genuinely guilty gojo looked, clearly realizing the consequences of his actions. gojo remained silent as he sat back, his eyes fixed on the two of you, watching with a mixture of regret and longing.

gojo took a deep breath, his heart heavy with guilt as he watched you nestled against geto. he could see the way your body trembled slightly, and it made him realize just how far he had gone with his teasing.

hesitantly, he moved to sit beside you, his presence bringing a wave of warmth but also uncertainty. he reached out, running his hand gently along your back in an attempt to comfort you. “hey,” he started softly, his voice laced with remorse, “i’m really sorry. i didn’t mean to upset you. it was just a stupid joke.”

he watched your reaction closely, hoping to see some sign that you could forgive him, while his fingers continued to stroke your back, trying to convey his sincerity and desire to make things right. “please don’t cry. i promise i’ll behave,” he added, his tone earnest as he looked at the back of your head, hoping you could see how much he truly cared.

geto felt your body tense slightly as gojo moved closer and began to gently run his hand along your back. he could sense your confusion and the conflicting feelings that must be going through your mind.

he held you tighter, his embrace a silent reassurance that he was there for you no matter what. geto remained silent, letting you decide how to respond to gojo's apology, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths as he waited for your response.

you let out a soft, muffled protest against geto's shoulder, your voice barely above a whisper. “no, you ruined my spot,” you said, your tone still laced with annoyance. even as you clung to geto, the frustration bubbled beneath the surface, a reminder of gojo's earlier antics.

you peeked up at gojo, your eyes still glistening with unshed tears. “it was perfect the way i had it,” you continued, your pout returning as you tried to suppress a smile despite the situation. “and now it's all messed up because of you.”

as you spoke, you felt the warmth of geto's embrace grounding you, giving you the strength to voice your feelings. it was hard to stay mad when you knew gojo hadn't intended to hurt you, but the frustration still lingered.

geto's smile widened slightly as he held you, recognizing the familiar cycle all too well. he knew that on days when you were more sensitive, gojo's playful teasing could easily tip the scales, leaving you upset. it was a routine he had come to accept, a dance of emotions between the three of you that always ended in laughter and understanding.

he kept his arms wrapped around you, providing a steady support as you sulked against him. in that moment, he didn't need to say anything; his presence alone was enough to convey his comfort and care.

gojo's heart twisted at the sight of you pouting as you spoke, a mix of guilt and affection filling his chest. he knew how much you valued your little spot and how much effort you had put into making it your own.

he sighed softly, his hand still rubbing soothing circles along your back. “i know, sweetheart, and i'm really sorry,” he said, his voice filled with genuine remorse. “i shouldn't have messed it up like that. i swear i'll fix it. i promise.”

gojo couldn't help but wear a sheepish expression, even as he tried to maintain his playful demeanor. he shifted closer, his voice softening. “i really am sorry, okay?” he said, looking between you and geto. “i didn't mean to ruin your spot. i’ll make it up to you, i promise.”

but even as he spoke, he couldn’t resist adding with a hint of mischief, “next time, just make it a little harder to mess with, alright?” it was a typical gojo remark, but beneath it was a genuine desire to see you smile again.

you lifted your head from geto’s neck, a fire igniting in your eyes as you glared at gojo. the moment your gaze met his, a mix of irritation and affection bubbled up inside you. “you’re so annoying!” you exclaimed, hitting his chest lightly with the back of your hand. “you better fix my spot and make it up to me later!”

gojo, catching your small, half-hearted hit against his chest, couldn’t help but smile wider. he knew he’d won this battle. the sight of you pouting and hitting him was all too familiar.

he chuckled playfully, feigning a wince from your weak attack. “alright, alright, i will!” he replied, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “just give me a moment, princess. i’ll fix your spot and you can give me a list of ways to make it up to you later, how’s that?”

you let out a short hum, still sulking slightly as you crossed your arms and relented, “alright.” despite your annoyance, you could feel the warmth of his affection breaking through your frustration.

gojo chuckled, clearly delighted by your reaction, and repeated your words in a playful tone, “alright.” then, leaning in closer, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment as he whispered another apology. “i’m really sorry for messing up your spot. i promise it’ll be even better once i’m done.”

you pouted a little more at the sound of your own words echoed back to you, but the feeling of gojo's kiss against your forehead was undeniable. it softened your heart, making it impossible to stay mad at him for long.

geto, still holding you against him, watched the two of you with a mixture of affection and amusement. he could sense the tension easing, and even he had to admit that seeing you and gojo making up was one of his favorite things to witness.