#they may have interacted once but it’s enough for me I can make my own content with the power of art

[batataaurdoodh]

@hetalia-rarepairweek day 4: assassin

HRGHHHHHH I LOVE THESE TWO SMMMMM their outfits look more like spy outfits than Bollywood flash mob tbh

[starlooove]

Do ppl genuinely think jinx blew up the council for the liberation of zaun

[acid-ixx]

Sigh.. We all should've have chosen both wally and conner...i can't imagine the faces of batfam

how to be a heartbreaker! (again &. again concept)

ft. yandere! wally west, starfire, roy harper, artemis, conner kent, bart allen x gn! neglected! reader w/ platonic yandere! batfam.

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

tw: age gaps but there isn't nsfw (except for conner) and the reader is described to be older than 20 in this concept and was far ignored longer than in the og story.

a/n: happy (late) halloween! 🎃 i'm praying to the gods, please don't let this post flop, i'm in my flop era fr! because i am not writing allat for it to get ignored 💔 (just kidding i love u guys, especially to all those who comment! i read all your comments even if i'm unable to reply at times). if you guys are wondering why i didn't include all the characters, it's because this is just a drabble and if anyone likes more concepts about this, please send in asks! anyways, enjoy this sweet harem au hehe.

anon, you are so right. but let me raise you this: getting together with all your siblings' teammates. i'm not just saying wally and conner, no! i'm saying the young justice, the teen titans, all their friends and old pals— the moment you come of age, hide under the radar for a few years and eventually meet them at random. you'd be giving dick, hell, even bruce, your father, mind you, a run for his money when it comes to a player reputation amongst the siblings, and the best part (or worst part for you once it's too late...) of it all is the fact that you don't even have to keep all your little relationships with them a secret when they never once bat an eye on you until recently.

the funny thing is: you didn't even have to try to attract them. it was all them approaching you at random days and getting to know you better, with you, at your lowest point, accepting any medium of attention. at first it was them feeling pity, perceptive to how your siblings chose to focus on them rather than you, but now it's them chasing after you because you're so interesting in every aspect; even if you find yourself average at best compared to your talented siblings.

maybe it's because you bring the normal out in them, or because you display such raw emotions and are an entirely separate being from vigilantism. either way, they find themselves thinking about you more often than their missions and that's harrowing.

and because you're such a pathetic, wet cat, so desperate for love; all the people you hit on develop a savior complex because of you. i don't just mean them finding you cute, or interesting, absolutely not. i mean you're constantly being thrown around like a prince or princess who needs a knight in shining armor to catch them when they fall, except you're constantly being carried in some other's arms even when you can stand on your own two feet.

you just have that special quality in you that makes everyone fall head over heels. it makes them fantasize scenarios of a home life with you; they could provide better than your current ones do, for sure. you'd be spoiled to death with kisses to your face, hands wrapped around your body, and a guarantee that you'll never feel alone or unsafe in a world full of danger that lurks around the corner.

that same quality may have also been your downfall.

wally west doesn't mind training all day to become stronger and faster to save you from every danger that lingers near your presence. hell, he doesn't complain anymore whenever dick assigns him some missions if that means he can pass by your room by the manor as an after-mission reward, loving it when you smile at him with the gentlest quip of your mouth as he hastily wraps you in his arms with the same amount of speed it took to run to your house. wally cherishes watching you in slow-time because he could worship every little part of his darling's expression, quelling the boredom he had for the entire day. he wants to be fast enough for his babe, not only just to impress them but because he wants them to see him as the only reliable individual capable enough of protecting and flirting with you. not everyone can measure up to his speed, no? nobody could keep up with this man's speed and he's known for taking you away whenever you're with someone else just to get a sliver of your time.

starfire's emotions become ablaze and so does her powers every time she notices one of your other sweethearts becoming too touchy with you, unable to comprehend why you're not even in a relationship with her yet. but you're too sweet and you bury yourself in her curly tresses to calm her down. at first that's enough! she doesn't understand the concept of physical affection and the boundaries that come with it as much as others but boy does she crave it when it comes to you. it doesn't help the fact that you're incapable of sometimes denying her affections and letting yourself be constantly kissed by the girl in every part of your face. she's very warm, though, and her curiosity about things foreign to her, paired with you teaching her more about your world, makes starfire adore her sweetheart's willingness and patience; it simply warrants another passionate kiss in the mouth from the pink-haired alien.

roy harper brings out a more rebellious side of you that you never imagine yourself sporting. his experiences in life and his rebellious relationship towards oliver queen, his adoptive father shapes him to who he is now; and he'd be damned if you drown yourself in endless misery like he did. yeah, it doesn't help that lian loves you as much as he does and he thinks you're the perfect match for him, watching you play with his little girl and care for him whenever he's injured does wonders for the fantasies that plays itself in his head, all scenarios of coming home to you after a hard day of work, just to see you and lian greet him the moment he enters your shared house with him, kissing him in the lips, telling him about the wonderfully prepared dinner you and lian whipped up for him, and watching your eyes widen at another bouquet of your favorite flowers he bought home for you. you're not in a relationship with him at all but can't a man just dream?

why dick wonders every damn time one of his friends ditch another one of their hangouts is a question never to be answered. but it's been noticeable these days that he's starting to suspect something wrong at play, especially since he's noticed tension within his comrades, and as a leader he couldn't just simply ignore the tense glares, insults to their being, and the hushed whispers; all pet names, a mantra they're used to calling you.

but dick doesn't take it seriously until it's too late.

that his baby bird long fell off the nest years ago, taken into the arms of whom he thought to be his most trusted comrades, thoroughly loved more than he could've given you. and it's not just one person smitten with you; it's an entire harem of people unwilling to share you just as much as dick who'd soon realize that he shares far more similarities with you; a heartbreaker, yet a caretaker at heart.

it's no wonder why everybody wants you for themselves. it's not only your family who loves to hear your precious laughs and gentle hands; that sets the jealousy ablaze in his heart.

jason never thought that artemis carried a softer version of her. but he's been picking up telltale signs of her donning dangling keychains, all cute doodles of her no doubt, and necklaces he's sure he's seen around the manor at times. it's not her typical style, and she never really found the appeal with cute things like crochet plushies of her; yet the designs are oddly reminiscent to someone he always called his angel. but whenever he tries to bring the topic up, he only receives a snarky reply, a protective hold on her things, and a familiar phrase telling him to mind his business. he isn't aware of how she met you one time after you've nearly been crushed to death by a car accelerating at you, if not for her taking the blunt end of the hit. ever since that day you've been seeing her regularly by alleyways watching over you as your guardian and giving her tokens of appreciation, albeit small, that she keeps as her prized properties; ones nobody has special access to touch. she's not much of a heckler for physical touch, but she occasionally gives you a head scratches and the rare peck to your lips.

jason doesn't like how jealous he is towards her, because of how the would-be stranger treats her and why he can't seem to pinpoint the primal urge to rip those little trinkets from her. sometimes he feels like a man possessed, eyeing the keychains and the random pastel bracelets longer, all warranting the same angered glare artemis reciprocates.

he swore he's seen them before, splayed across the random rooms in the manor, some even being in the library; things he loved to fiddle with whenever he was bored out of his mind. so seeing them being proudly displayed by artemis triggers visceral reactions within him.

but could jason do anything about it when he's part of the reason why your roster consists of your family's comrades? no.

if you couldn't get attention from your family, you'll just have to get it through their affiliations. yeah, some are older than you, but god are you treated like divinity with just how willing they are to kneel upon your feet just to gain a crumb of your attention. even the strongest lay weak whenever you look at them with disappointment or sadness with your wide, captivating eyes.

all the times tim drake would be with teammates, he'd notice how their eyes look at him expectantly, as if waiting for another one to accompany them. at first he ignores it, but the longer their strange behavior persists, he begins opening a case about his close friends.

he soon realizes that conner has a record of mentioning "his cute little darling," and how he'd brag to his other friends about how left his jacket and all his favorite t-shirts in your room and how you're always drowning in his scent— always quiping about just how much it smells like you and how he enjoys wearing all his clothes right after you wear them just to get a whiff of your presence in his life; you being his motivation to fight against crime just so he could see your pretty face and tell him you're proud of him. undeniably, he's the one who spends the longest time with you and he's prideful about it, being the only man with the privilege to touch every part of your skin, wishing to melt against you just so he'd be branded in your body like how your name is the only sweet thing he can taste in his mouth.

it's not only conner, but bart allen would bounce around more often demanding that it's unfair how conner gets everything and how he gets little time with you, with just how often you get thrown around by all your love interests! he'd admit just how cute he finds you whenever you coo about him and play with his messy locks of hair whenever it's his time of the week to visit you right after missions. spending time with him is arguably the most casual part of your life, because he loves to help you with your daily errands despite him complaining about the same tasks to his other teammates... he says it's because you stimulate every part of his brain to find satisfaction in every small action that you do, but it's not only that, rather, he wishes to gain all your praises that you sing for him, never finding boredom in your presence at all.

tim's the first one who pieces the jigsaw puzzle together, but he's thoroughly astounded either way at just how smitten they are with you. it makes him open an entirely different case that's just about you; where he discovers how you're connected with nearly everyone close to him and his siblings.

it makes him wonder what makes you all the more interesting. it's how exactly he spirals into a periodic cluster of events investigating your entire life and drowning himself in work, terabytes of files each analyzed carefully— all about you, your past, and present situation. tim drake never saw a person this admired that much, so much so that online stalking lead to physical stalking.

all your dm's are spammed by countless people, and you don't even take the initiative to reply because you'd be too busy being tossed around by the time the vigilante tracks your location. it's honestly amusing at first but the longer tim become a third perspective to your life, the more he craves your physical presence, just to get a taste of dissecting all the thoughts in your brain. but with just how often their friends fight over you, it'd be hard to rip you away from the clawing hands of all your admirers.

that's why he sets a plan into motion. if he couldn't have you to himself, then he could at least share you with the closest people he had in his life— not with all the strangers who think they know his younger sibling better than he does.

a simple document, many actually, so documents, were all he needed, with printed stacks of a4 paper compiling each and every known fact about you.

all in the name of love, he'd give it out to every member of the family in quick succession.

a hefty reminder to take back what once was theirs.

[captainreecejames]

Can't Have a Good Thing || My ex is a footballer LS2 edition

[masterlist][my ex series masterlist]

summary you go from dating an american footballer to an american driver

pairings ex!christian pulisic x reader, logan sargeant x reader

warnings probably a little anti pulisic but i still love my baby

notes pictures are from pinterest so thank you to all those lovely users (as I wrote this my english teacher from 11th grade came into my job and it was not fun!)

May 2023 ynusername posted -------

liked by cmpulisic, reece and others

ynusername final chelsea game of the season, love you guys

chelseafc awww we love you too yn ❤️ by author

cmpulisic always love having you there ↳ ynusername wouldn't want to be anywhere else

username1 look at my girl dawg, chelsea is embarrassing her ↳ username2 please, christian didn't even play

reece once a blue always a blue ↳ username3 NAH WHY IS THIS SO CRYPTIC ↳ username4 you can't say shit like this then leave DUDE

username5 that chrisyn interaction screams for help ↳ username6 i wouldn't be surprised if they're not dating anymore but trying to keep up appearances ↳ username7 breakup statement incoming ↳ username8 can we get fabrizio to comment on wag breakups please!! ↳ username7 lol can you imagine a here we go! breakup is official! peak comedy

cesarazpilicueta 💙 ↳ ynusername love you too capitan!

July 2023 real life ---------

It’s been a rough few months in the house for the two of you. Christian’s time at Chelsea was most likely coming to an end, and you had just started a new project at work, so your time was filled with that. Nights spent making dinner and laughing together turned to plates left in the microwave and lights out early. Mornings started with short wake up kisses to hardly whispered goodbyes.

In fewer words, the relationship was falling apart. You barely knew what was going on in each others lives anymore, it’s no surprise when he tells you he’s leaving Chelsea.

Chris is still in Florida with his family, enjoying the last few days off before preseason. You had been with him for the 4th of July, but needed to fly back to London almost immediately for a new project and you’re exhausted. When he Facetimes you it’s almost 11:30 at night and your still sitting in your home office, but with how excited Chris is, he can’t tell that you’re operating on extremely low levels of energy. You want to be excited for him, but you can see the writing on the wall.

“Hey babe.” You know what’s coming, but it doesn’t make the shock any less. “I’ve got some big news.” He waits for you to say something, but all you do is blink and nod. “AC Milan are going to sign me.” He waits again for you to say something. “Did you hear me? I’m leaving Chelsea.”

“Yeah, I heard you.” Your lack of enthusiasm confuses Christian.

“Then why aren’t you excited?”

Your apathy turns to frustration quickly and you shift in the chair. “Because, Christian, I’m not just going to blow up my life in London to follow you to a new city. I’ve got a job here and it’s going well. I don’t want to have to start all over again. Not to mention learning a whole new language. Have you considered how isolating that would be for me?”

“So what, I just rot at Chelsea because you don’t want to move?” He is now just as defensive as you, words biting at the holes that have formed in your relationship, making them grow.

“I didn’t say that!” You sit up even straighter, putting your phone down against the computer so it stands on it’s own.

“Well it sounds like you don’t want to leave.”

“I don’t want to pack up my life and move to a new country where I don’t know anyone.”

You could see the fight leave his body as he came to the same realization you did. “What’s going to happen to us?”

“I think we’re done Chris.” You can feel your heart break that last little bit with the words you say. You love Christian, but with everything you’ve gone through, it’s not enough.

twitter ---------

September 2023 real life ------

In one hand you held your phone, looking down at the details of your train back to London, in the other a hot chocolate to warm you up in the brisk wind of Oxford. It’s how you missed the body in front of you and ended up falling straight on your ass because of it, hot chocolate splashing onto your shirt.

“Fucking hell,” you whispered, pulling your shirt away from your body so it didn’t burn.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” said an American accent. You groaned in your head, not wanting to deal with this. “I should’ve been looking where I was going.” They put a hand in your face, gesturing to help you up, which you took. 

“No, it was my fault, I was staring at my phone,” you told them as they pulled you up. He was strong, and also probably a little awkward as he was still holding your hand.

“Me too, so I really won’t let you take the blame.” His awkward smile was also cute, but you tried not to think that, it wouldn’t agree with your ‘no boys agenda.’ “Do you need another hot chocolate?” The cup was empty at your feet, making you wince. 

“Yeah, probably another shirt too.” It’s at that point that he realizes he’s still holding your hand, and he drops it.

“Let me get you one.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You’re still very early for the train, but travel anxiety is terrible and you want to leave soon.

“I insist.” Something about his smile and red cheeks makes you say yes to him, and you’re really not sure why. “I’m Logan, by the way.” He’s leading you back into the line of the cafe, smiling at you still.

“I’m YN,” you tell him.

ynusername posted ---------

liked by logansargeant, benchilwell, and others

ynusername exploring oxford finally

bsfinstagram babe you run into any quidditch players ↳ ynusername bitch you know i'm swearing off athletes

username7 damn why are you so beautiful

samkerr 💞 ↳ ynusername ugh bestie i love you

pulisick10 'SWEARING OFF ATHLETES?' Christian mate pulisic what did you do!?! ↳ username8 that is so fucking harsh though like pulisic really did a number on our girl here ↳ pulisick10 ben chilwell still in the likes tho ↳ username8 nah her and ben are friends, like ben was always close with christian and just cause he left doesn't mean that she can't be friends still ↳ username8 also she's still good friends with the women's team ↳ pulisick10 well that's cause the women are better ❤️ by ynusername and bsfinstagram ↳ username8 NOT HER LIKING THAT but also won't argue with that

logansargeant at least the weather was good ↳ ynusername youre right, thank you english sun who comes out once in a blue moon ↳ bsfinstagram I'm questioning things ↳ ynusername well you shouldn't

username11 she's sworn off athletes but has a formula 1 driver in her comments... ↳ username12 fake bitch ↳ username13 two people can be friends right? ↳ username12 she breaks up with christian because of the distance but is talking a driver like he isn't gone more than half the year, she's definitely fake for that ↳ username13 how do you know that's why they broke up ↳ username14 she doesn't she's just being a hater ❤️ by ynusername ↳ username11 damn all this fighting on my comment thread?

username12 not yn liking so many comments, do you read them ↳ ynusername gotta appreciate a good laugh ↳ username13 yn stalks her comments like a real one should

twitter ---------

yn's messages -----------

November 2023 yn's messages ------------

real life --------

Your hotel room is kind of a mess, with clothes thrown around and various pieces of paper on the floor. It’s not really a surprise to Logan, even though he hasn’t known you very long.

After a long day exploring New York City in fairly okay weather, the two of you are relaxing in your hotel room before dinner. “Can I ask you something?” Logan asks. He’s currently sitting in the desk chair, feet propped up on the desk and head hung back. 

“Go ahead.” You’re on your bed, laying like a starfish.

“Would you say yes to going on a date with me?” You sit up straight, staring at him with wide eyes as he doesn’t move.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“No, I’m asking if you’d say yes to me asking you on a date.” His clarification makes you narrow your eyes, but he still doesn’t move. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea right now.”

That gets him moving, turning the chair to look at you. “So would you say yes or no?”

“I’d say no right now.”

“What about in a month?”

“In a month, when we’re both back in England, I’d probably say yes.”

“Cool,” he shrugs, going back to putting his feet on the desk. “Then I’ll ask you again in January.”

ynusername posted ---------

liked by logansargeant, alexalbon and others

ynusername look who came to visit

lilymhe booooo bring me next time ↳ ynusername you're welcome whenever, he invited himself ↳ logansargeant literally not true you asked me to come ↳ ynusername stop lying! i wanted thanksgiving but you have this job that makes you fly across the world to drive a stupid car or something

oscarpiastri look at him jumping for joy for you ↳ ynusername yeah well, what can i say, I'm a dream come true

bsfinstagram ahhhh just under 2 weeks until you come home!! ↳ ynusername I missed you so much ↳ bsfinstagram debrief over wine incoming!

username18 nope she is definitely dating this driver ↳ username19 it's so weird cause like if she really broke up with christian because of distance then isn't this just so much worse ↳ username20 i don't think they broke up just because of distance, things were probably weird for a couple of months before hand cause she wasn't going to as many mens games, she was definitely going to the women's games though.

timothyweah did you get a hotdog from the hotdog guy? ↳ ynusername yes... why? ↳ timothyweah cause they're good and i just want to make sure that you did ↳ ynusername okay timmy

chelseafcw don't stay too long we miss you ↳ ynusername aww, i miss you guys too

May 2024 ynusername posted--------

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and others

ynusername Miami you can be pretty but you're on my shit list

landonorris no whyyyyy ↳ ynusername idk might have something to do with my boyfriend dnfing at his home race. ↳ landonorris oh, okay ↳ ynusername but i guess congrats on your win ↳ landonorris thanks ynnnnn! ↳ oscarpiastri someone is still drunk

logansargeant ohhh he's handsome ↳ ynusername yeah and he's got a jealous ass girlfriend so beware ↳ logansargeant love you too babe

username23 finally confirmed that they're dating only seven months later

[eoieopda]

insomniac | ljh (m)

there are certainly worse ways to tire yourself out.

summary: it’s 2:00 am, and you can’t turn your brain off. thankfully, your boyfriend knows just how to scramble it. pairing: lee jihoon x reader au: established relationship type: one-shot (smut) word count: 5.2k rating: 18+ cw: reader is afab but no pronouns are used; reader has insomnia (unspecified re: prof. diagnosed or self-diagnosed); there’s a sentence about reader taking “an inadvisable amount of melatonin gummies” — don’t do this! — but they’re not impaired in any way; reader’s internal monologue is kind of angsty/self-deprecating at times; blonde!woozi has his hair in a bun, which is a warning in and of itself; completely unedited because my perfectionism has killed every wip i’ve attempted for months. ✰ minors do not have my consent to interact with me and/or my work. smut warnings: big dick lee jihoon™️, nipple stim, v fingering, unprotected p in v penetration, wee bit of aftercare. there are a total of six (6) orgasms in here because i believe in going big from home, incl. nipple stim & a-spot orgasms. a/n: i haven’t written anything in forever, due in large part to the fact that i’m exhausted but can never fucking sleep. i truly hope this isn’t incoherent garbage. 😵‍💫 dedicated to my fellow woozi-simping insomniac, @sailorrhansol. may we eventually rest in peace. multi permanent taglist. seventeen permanent taglist.

You should be asleep.

With the day you’ve had, you should’ve drifted off the second your body hit the sheets; and you should’ve stayed that way — unmoving, unconscious — for several hours, at minimum.

If the week’s worth of sleep debt wasn’t exhausting enough in and of itself, every single circumstance surrounding you begs you to give into the weight of your eyelids. To let yourself be lulled, just this once. Soothed.

From the vent in the corner, the gentle hum of the aircon goads you. It does its very best to convince you to curl up under the softness of your comforter, and to some extent, you’ve listened. You’re burrowed beneath your blankets with only the upper half of your face exposed, which should be more than enough to sway you. 

It’s not, though.

With no ability to keep your eyes closed, you stare dejectedly at the wall in front of you. Laying on your side, gazing straight ahead, you watch the faint echoes of the city lights as they wash over white paint. Not much bleeds through the blinds, leaving only hints of cobalt and red to blend into some sleepy shade of lilac. Whether or not you want to be awake to perceive it in the first place, you have to admit it: it’s beautiful.

But it’s not enough.

You squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing down the groan building in your chest. With how closely he’s got you nestled against his body, Jihoon would feel it if you let that frustration manifest. You already ache from the sheer amount of time you’ve been policing your own posture; making any amount of noise now would interrupt the slow, delicate breaths he’s aiming into the back of your neck. Frankly, you’d rather die.

Taking his silence as a sign that you’ve remained off his radar, you let out a measured sigh, too worried that the full rise and fall of your chest will disturb him. 

Nothing.

But then, the arm draped over your waist shifts. 

“Fuck,” you mouth to no one.

It wouldn’t be out-of-character for Jihoon to feel the restless energy pouring out of you in waves, even in the depths of a sleep cycle. He senses every tiny change in your ecosystem long before you do. As unlikely as he is to ever admit it, it has to be exhausting to be attuned to someone so neurotic. He deserves every second of sleep he can manage to get.

You grit your teeth and demand yourself to calm down, all while refusing to acknowledge how completely your actions and commands conflict.  

Maybe, you attempt to bamboozle yourself, you can sleep vicariously through him. 

He’ll wake up rested, and when you look in the mirror later, the first thing you see won’t be the cartoonish bags under your eyes.

It’ll be fine. 

It’ll be fine.

If you go to sleep right now, you’ll get five hours and thirty —

“You haven’t unclenched a single muscle since you climbed into bed,” notes the world’s groggiest voice from over your shoulder.

Jihoon’s lips brush against the sensitive skin of your neck when he speaks. Without that tickling sensation, you might’ve deluded yourself into thinking that you were simply hearing things just now. That it was merely a hallucination brought on by sleep deprivation and the inadvisable number of melatonin gummies you ate before brushing your teeth.

He shifts again. This time, there’s no mistaking his movements. The arm slung over your side pulls you closer. So close, in fact, that you can feel the contented sigh leave his body, like his isn’t separate from yours at all.

With the distance erased, his face — the cold tip of his nose and the sheet-creased warmth of his cheeks — can nuzzle properly into the crook of your neck. You swear you feel the hint of a smile there somewhere, too. If you had to guess, it matches the upward curve on your lips.

“What are we spinning our wheels over tonight?” He asks without a hint of judgment, as if your burdens are automatically his, too.

The fact that he can’t see your face doesn’t stop you from frowning. Yet again, you’ve managed to drag him into your insomnia. Jihoon may never fault you for it, but you don’t need him to. You’ll hold it against yourself — grudge by proxy. 

“I don’t even know,” you admit with a frustrated huff. “There’s nothing coherent going on up there.” You lift your hand and gesture vaguely in the dark. “Nothing articulable, just… blender brain.”

“Mmm.”

Jihoon sounds so fucking sleepy, so at peace next to you, that it makes your stomach hurt. You wish you could be like him. For as calm as his presence makes you, you’ve learned that you’re incapable of feeling fully relaxed. At least, not in the way he is when he’s got his arms around you. He deserves to have that effect on you.

A beat passes in silence, save for his soft breathing. For a minute, you’re convinced that he’s fallen back asleep; and you pray to whoever that he has. He deserves that, too.

“How do we unplug the blender?”

You have to bite back a smile for two reasons: the way his words sound slurred when delivered directly to your skin, and the distinctly Jihoon drive he has to fix a problem that isn’t his.

When the love sickness leaves you down bad, and you forget to respond with words, Jihoon prompts you softly. “Hmm?” 

He punctuates this reminder with a kiss to your shoulder, then lets his lips linger against your skin, musing, “I can think of two things that usually do the trick: getting you hotteok from that cart down the block, which is currently closed, and —”

The rest of that thought fades out. Leaving you on the edge of your seat, Jihoon continues to kiss a languid line along the perimeter of your shoulder, as if he’s conducting some meticulous, geographical survey. Like missing a single spot will have grave consequences. A perfectionist through and through, even half-asleep.

You feel yourself melting, bit by bit, into his torso; the warmth of his bare chest against your back only expedites the process. Nevertheless, you peep, “What’s the second thing?”

His answer comes with a slip of his hand, down down down along the slope of your waist to your hip, long before he verbalizes it. It’s simple, delivered in that rough, early-morning voice you love so much. It’s more than enough to make you shiver:

“Making you cum.”

But as crazy as that statement makes you, you can’t make yourself act on it.

At any other time, you’d jump on that opportunity — jump on him — in a heartbeat. All you’re able to do now is jump to the worst conclusion in a single bound. 

Somewhere, deep down, you know he wouldn’t have brought it up if he didn’t truly want it, want you; but that goddamned, sleep-deprived goblin taking up space in the far reaches of your mind is far louder than the voice of reason.

He’s only offering so you’ll stop keeping him awake.

He’s as exhausted as you are, if not more so for having to deal with your disorder again.

Burden.

Placing your hand on top of his, you slip your fingers into the spaces you find and squeeze once for emphasis. “I love you,” you start. He stills. “But, Jihoon, you’re so tired. I can hear it in your voice. Please, go back to sleep. It’s okay — I’m okay.”

Jihoon doesn’t push back. He stays within bounds, honors your shitty decision because, after all, it’s yours to make. With another kiss to your shoulder and a squeeze to your hand, he murmurs, “Love you,” before relaxing back against the pillows.

Minutes pass.

Maybe hours, for all you know. 

As the window of opportunity creaks shut, regret seeps through the gap. You know you’re wrong; you know he meant it; and you know that someone would have to be out of their fucking gourd to politely decline what he’s offering.

The unbearable heat licking up your neck is either embarrassment or the ghost of orgasms lost coming to haunt you.

Maybe you’d be better equipped to tell the difference if you could just — fucking — sleep.

Driven half mad, you try to keep from squirming.

You fail.

Maybe, since you can’t sleep, you and your wilted little brain should’ve let your perfect, empathetic boyfriend fu —

“That’s enough,” Jihoon grunts.

The hand underneath yours is suddenly above it, overtaking it and tugging carefully until your whole body moves. In the time it takes for you to roll from your side, Jihoon sits up and clears space for your frame to settle. You barely have time to blink dumbly up at him from your back before he cages you in with one hand on either side of your head, knees now on either side of your thighs.

Your breath seems to have gotten lost in the fray, but it’s not the sudden moves that shook it loose; it’s the sight of him looming over you, damn near scowling despite his lead-lidded eyes. It’s the disheveled bun of platinum hair at the crown of his head, which must’ve shifted in his sleep and spilled out the tendrils that now frame his set jaw.

The very best you can come up with is, “You’re awake.”

“So are you,” he retorts without missing a beat.

That face — god, that face — doesn’t budge. On the contrary, your stomach flips. This the most stern you’ve ever seen him. Confusingly, his tone isn’t even remotely harsh when he continues, “If those gears in your head grind any louder, the whole neighborhood will be, too.”

Grimacing, you open your mouth to apologize, but Jihoon’s eyes are searching your face with a distinct flicker of concern. You know that look. You also know that nothing you can think to say will make it disappear.

He speaks when you don’t, hard edges softening slightly. “I can fix it,” he insists, though you know him well enough to hear the plea hidden in there. 

Let me take care of you.

That little spark of desperation burns you up in a flash. You wonder if he can feel the fire spread when he lifts his right hand off the mattress just to swipe his thumb slowly over the edge of your cheekbone. Without thinking, you let go of the tension in your neck. Your head tilts automatically, seeking comfort you’ve only ever found in him, and rests against his palm.

“I have to admit it, though,” Jihoon confesses. “Yours isn’t the only mind that’s restless.”

He moves his hand away from your face but keeps his eyes trained on you. The incessant need you feel to apologize bubbles up yet again, uninvited. You swallow it. As you do, his fingertips trail down the length of your neck at a snail’s pace, effectively turning your thoughts to static.

“I’ve been holding you for hours now, and all that time —” 

He pauses just long enough to glance down at his hand, which hasn’t.

“— I’ve been wondering if I should have you channel that energy and tire yourself out on top of me —”

His touch whispers over your collarbone. It’s the only proof that you have any bones at all. Until now, you were sure that the rest of you had melted entirely, puddling uselessly on the sheets below. This time, when you bite your lips and swallow weakly, it’s not an apology that you’re keeping to yourself but a whimper.

“— or lay you back against the pillows —”

You don’t mean to directly contradict his statement the moment he makes it, but you can’t help it. The thin, cotton fabric of your top does nothing to dull the sensation of his hand on your left breast; leaves you with the unmitigated brush of his thumb tracing delicate swirls over your nipple. The breath you’ve been holding comes out shuddered, back arching off the mattress to chase his touch.

Emboldened by your reaction, Jihoon pulls his gaze off his own ministrations and directs it through his lashes back up at you. One eyebrow momentarily flexes in challenge. “— Take my time, and —”

Whatever desperate look you give him earns you some amount of mercy. He picks up where he left off in that dizzyingly deep voice of his, words molten, and drags the hem of your shirt up your torso. “Fuck you deep, until the only thing you can do is relax.”

Gobsmacked is too weak a word for the impact that suggestion has on you. The idea alone sparks a kind of relief so foreign and so sorely needed that it almost makes you cry. 

You don’t, thankfully. 

Instead, you stagger along the borderline of babbling. 

“I want that,” you announce on a shaky exhale. Then, with a shake of your head, you correct yourself, “No, it’s not even want. It’s —” Frustration over your inability to form a coherent thought drives you to scrub your hands over your face. “— need. I need you.”

You accompany that declaration by slapping your hands down at your sides, finishing off with a muted thump when your palms hit the mattress with enough force to bounce them upwards again. 

Even with your eyes screwed shut, you know Jihoon is sitting back on his knees, watching you with equal parts surprise and amusement. There’s no need to open them to confirm it, but you do anyway. His pupils have dilated widely enough to rival the moon floating over the skyline.

Though he’d be well within bounds to tell you to chill the fuck out, he doesn’t. He never has, as far as you can recall. In fact, Jihoon doesn’t say a thing. His hands speak for him, reaching for the shirt he so nearly got off your body before you lost whatever was left of your mind.

Keeping his word, as always, Jihoon takes his time. He takes care in sliding that tank top up and over your head without snagging your earrings, then he wordlessly drops it off the side of the bed to be forgotten about.

With your chest bare, it’s obvious how rapid your breathing is. Noting the quick rise and fall, he traces the curve of your waist with the side of his right index finger and softly says the quiet part out loud: “Let me take care of you.”

And you do.

You let him maneuver your body so he can settle with one knee between your thighs, rather than straddle them. You let go of your death grip on the sheets and thread your fingers through his hair when he leans back down to kiss you; and when he licks into your mouth, you let him swallow the moan that builds under the delicious weight of his body on yours.

Already, you feel every shitty, stupid thought begin to dissolve. You should’ve known this would be the case. 

He said he’d fix it, didn't he? 

And here he is, proving to you that his touch is magic. All it takes to coax the tension out of your muscles is the tender pass of his hand.

Whatever effect Jihoon has on you seems to be mutual. When he pulls back, he’s equally as breathless, likely just as starry-eyed. Awash in that lilac glow peeking in from the outside, he’s downright celestial — almost too divine to look at directly without watering eyes.

Undeterred, you stare right back at him and sigh, “You’re beautiful.”

His nose scrunches for a split second, just like it always does when you make him suffer through a compliment. Your exposure therapy is working, though. For once, Jihoon doesn’t groan or tell you to keep your praise to yourself. The corner of his mouth curves upward — just barely — and he shakes his head.

“I mean it,” you quietly insist.

Smirking slightly, he extends the index finger on his right hand and holds it to his lips. “You’re relaxing, remember?”

Though you could double-down, any fight you might’ve had in you fizzles out the second he bows his head and connects his lips to the underside of your jaw. Your head tilts further back with every centimeter he trails down the length of your neck, granting him increased access to wreck you even further. You have to keep your hands on whatever you can grip of his biceps — which ultimately isn’t much at all — to keep from floating away.

“Bold of you to call me beautiful,” he murmurs against your body, “When you just exist like this.”

You don’t argue. You can’t argue with a man who sounds so fucking reverent. Not in good faith, anyway. He says it with the kind of sincerity that underlines an undisputed fact; and you know better than to debate an expert.

With nothing to say, all you have left is to keen and melt even further into the mattress.

Like everything else he does, the way Jihoon kisses you is rhythmic. Steady and thoughtful, each feather-light graze of his lips on your skin causes your eyelids to flutter until you eventually decide to keep them shut. To cut out the visual and hone in on the physical sensation; to be truly present in the body he can’t get enough of.

As it turns out, being present earns the gift of his tongue circling one of your nipples. Soon after, you get the plush heat of his mouth enveloping the sensitive bud; the slow, deep pull of the suction he creates.

Eloquent as always, you moan, “Fuuuuck.”

The hand not holding up his weight massages your other breast, too considerate to leave half of you lonely. Whatever gentle pressure he maintains there builds inside you, further down.

It’s incredible.

No, it’s fucking perfect.

Jihoon switches sides, grazes your other nipple carefully with his teeth, and it’s over for you. You shudder beneath his body, back arching and a breathy sigh floating out of your chest.

Apparently, he’s just as surprised by this turn of events as you are. Your eyes blink open and find him hovering over you with his jaw partially dropped, still smiling somehow.

Your questions overlap.

“Did you just —”

“— make me cum from this?”

His bemusement switches in an instant to something you can only describe as bewitched. Voice gravel-lined, Jihoon groans, “Oh, shit.” Adding immediately and twice as earnestly, “Goddamn.”

A flash of conflict makes him freeze. You know he’s facing the same internal debate that you are: he needs to be inside of you in the worst way, right now, but that’s not a conclusion the pair of you can just — leap to. 

There’s simply too much of him to take if he doesn’t fuck you open with his fingers first.

Jihoon shakes his head, as if he’s telling himself no. Like he’s reminding himself of what he promised — or threatened, more like — earlier, that he’s taking his time.

As much as you want to beg otherwise, you know you shouldn’t. So, you don’t. You reach out, encircle his wrist in your hand, and bring him back within reach. 

With undivided attention and darkening eyes, Jihoon watches you take his index and middle finger into your mouth, cheeks hollowing and tongue circling. He fights to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head, all the while professing, “You’re perfect.”

Not generally, no.

However, Jihoon has a habit of ending up correct, even if you disagree. This isn’t a battle worth picking. In this moment, you’re willing to entertain the possibility that you’re perfect for him.

A soft pop underscores your choice to release him. His mouth must’ve gotten jealous; it swiftly replaces his fingers, tongue reclaiming any territory he wrongfully assumes he’s lost.

You’d be content to stay this way forever — and likely could, if it came down to it — but Jihoon has an agenda. He sticks to it, to the letter, and in dropping his hand down your body, he lets his knuckles drag softly over the trail he blazes. The little sleep shorts you wear are moved aside, and your thighs part for him, too, offering unrestricted access.

Two fingers slip inside of you easily, no doubt aided by the orgasm that snuck up on you — the one you’re still thinking about; the one he’ll secretly hang his hat on forever, having brought it on without touching you here at all.

“Listen to you,” he smirks against your lips with a curl of his fingers. 

As if you weren’t already acutely aware of the way you’ve drenched him to the base knuckles, he rolls his wrist, stroking your g-spot while the heel of his hand nudges your clit. Even the dulcet hum of the aircon isn’t enough to mute the obscenity; you hear the slick rush with every slow thrust of his fingers.

You respond with some sort of whimper. The sound barely registers without any breath behind it. If Jihoon hears it, he doesn’t let it affect his pace — just the stretch. He scissors his middle and index on the way out, then returns with his ring finger, unearthing a proper moan from the very bottom of your lungs.

His head tilts to the side. Warm breath hits the shell of your ear, prompting a contradictory shiver. “I think you’ve got another one for me, don’t you?”

Buried in you, he taps his fingers against that same, spongy spot. Every neuron you have begins to buzz.

“In fact, I think you want to cum all over my fingers,” he whispers, goading you with his rough voice dropped low. “Think you wanna soak my fucking hand, so I can fill you properly.”

You think you’ll have to apologize later for the crescent-shaped indents your nails leave on his shoulders.

When your second orgasm overtakes you, you feel it tingling all the way up at the crown of your head. Just like the first, it’s not a clap of thunder but a roll — patient. The intensity only builds, the longer it lasts. Jihoon makes sure it does — makes no adjustment to the slow, steady tempo, as it pulls you fully apart.

Every muscle you tensed as you came goes limp. It’s anyone’s guess whether you have any bones left. You’re sure that the only thing keeping you from seeping like honey through the mattress, or pooling on the floor below, is Jihoon’s body caging you in.

“Don’t ask me what my name is.” Your head droops to the side, and you mumble, “I do not remember, and I do not care.”

He kisses the temple that isn’t smushed against his left forearm, which, coupled with his elbow, now holds both of your weight. “If you’re spent, I can sto—”

“Don’t you dare.”

The emphatic look you muster lacks energy, you’re sure, but the point still stands, even if your stamina doesn’t. Half-lidded, you stare at him with all the force you can find.

“I’ll stay awake for the rest of my life if you stop now. I swear to you, Lee Jihoon, I will die on this hill.”

“Easy, tiger,” he purrs. Out of the corner of your narrowed eyes, you clock the fond smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “The whole point of this was for you to relax.”

To prove that you haven’t lost the plot entirely, you close your eyes, rather than roll them. Then, you cave completely. 

You whisper, leaving no question as to how badly you need him, “Jihoon… Please.”

“I’ve got you.” He nudges your temple with the tip of his nose. “But I can’t fuck you unless you give my arm back.”

Begrudgingly, you scoot your head several centimeters across the pillow, heaving a put-upon sigh as if he’s asked you to move a mountain instead. You give yourself a moment to mourn the loss of your headrest, then you open your eyes. As you do, any thought of pouting flies out the window.

Having crawled back to the end of your bed, Jihoon gets to his feet. Once there, he drops his hands and eyes to the loose knot cinching the waistband of his sweatpants. It’s a sight you’ve seen a thousand times — his naked chest so pale in contrast with his usual, all-black attire — yet it’s one you’ll never truly get over. Even harder to cope with is the fact that he’s never been in a hurry; not once in his goddamn life.

If you’re being honest, that’s one of the things you’ve always loved most about him. Envied, even. You fret endlessly about the process, whatever that may be; he trusts it. You scale the walls in anticipation; he’s never been caught sweating.

The best example of this comes the second he finishes addressing that knot. His sweatpants pool at his ankles; he kicks them aside; and you immediately set to wondering how in the motherfuck he managed to be so patient with you when he’s this incomprehensibly hard.

Really, you don’t deserve him.

Nevertheless, you get him anyway. 

Him pushing his flyways out of his face; him reaching out slowly to hook his fingers under the elastic band of your shorts; him cursing under his breath when he tosses those shorts over his shoulder and finds you wet and wanting.

In return, Jihoon gets you right where he wants you — trembling underneath him, with pliant legs opening wider at the request of his hands on your thighs. When his body fills the space between them, those same legs wrap around his back to keep him close, just like the arms you slink around his neck.

“Deep breath,” he reminds you as he lines himself up, only half-jokingly.

It’s good advice — something Jihoon probably should’ve heeded. 

He doesn’t. 

You keep your eyes on his when he slides inside of you, and you swear you see his mind blow in real time. Not that you have room to judge, however. In fact, that’s precisely what’s causing you to short-circuit: the perfect pressure of his length within your heat, sinking in slowly so as to not shock the system.

When he eventually bottoms out, low moan splintering from the depths of his chest, you have to blink quickly to keep tears within your waterline.

To check in, Jihoon runs his hand along the side of your thigh then back again. “Alright?”

Whatever you say in response comes out through a dreamy sigh, framed in quotation marks by fluttering lashes. Nonsense, most likely, or never better. In either case, he’ll understand; he always does.

Placing your hand on his, you slip your fingers over the top and pull him forward. He lets you, comes down carefully until the comfort of his weight against your frame makes you feel anchored. With every inch that’s erased between you, he fills you further, pushing out whatever air remains in your lungs through some needy little whine.

Among the million sensations you have to grapple with, the most hard-hitting, ironically, is comfort. Pure and unadulterated. You enveloping him, enveloping you.

To prove it to yourself that you’re not dreaming, you slip your fingers into his hair, nails scratching delicately over his scalp. In return, he rolls his hips forward, just like he promised — slow, steady, deep. You clench around him involuntarily, a reflex your body must’ve learned to keep him close.

“Love the way you grip me, but...” Jihoon exhales a sigh against your neck, head tilted to keep your face in his periphery. Pulling out further just to thrust in deeper, he warns, “You keep that up, and I’ll cum too soon.”

He’s one to talk.

Every time he grinds his hips languidly towards yours, you have to talk yourself off the ledge. 

If you let him wear you down again, you fear that there won’t be enough left of you to savor this; and you never want this moment to end. You want to live in it — to feel the delicious drag of his cock along your walls — to hear that obscene tide ebb and flow whenever he fucks himself further in you — to feel so fucking full —  for as long as he gives you. 

It was a valiant effort on your part, if you do say so yourself. Futile, though, because Jihoon pulls out all the stops. The next time he pulls himself from you just to roll back in, he swivels his hips as he thrusts, ensuring that you feel him everywhere.

“Oh.”

One syllable on a gasping breath, then you forget every single word in your vocabulary. Like warm molasses, bliss washes over you at half-speed, seeping in and sticking until the blender motor in your brain is fucked beyond repair.

At least you’re not the only one.

“Fuck, fuck —” 

Holding him as closely as you are, you feel each muscle in Jihoon’s body tense one-by-one, rippling as your third orgasm steals his first, going lax when his release floods. “— Fuck,” he groans, all the while twitching inside you.

Though he slows, he doesn’t stop. It’s not until he pants, “Kiss me,” that you realize it: Jihoon doesn’t intend to stop.

Neither, it seems, do you.

Maybe you’re greedy. Maybe you’re too obsessed with the brush of his tip against your cervix with every gentle, shallow thrust. Maybe, above all, it’s the way his cock doesn’t soften inside of you but his face does when he catches you looking at him from under a heavy curtain of lashes.

You catch him by the mouth, just like he asked. It’s indulgent — messy, echoing the other point where the two of you connect. Licking into him while he fucks himself into you, ragged breaths barely loud enough to overpower the explicit, sodden sound below.

“Can you still speak in sentences?” He pants in a rare moment when his lips break from yours.

Can feel you in my stomach, you want to say. 

“I’m — you’re gonna make me —”

You can’t choke out the words, though you suspect Jihoon gets the point. This far in, his touch reaches a detonator you didn’t even know existed; there’s no way he misses the explosion of pleasure throughout your entire goddamn body.

He’s caught in your blast radius, your walls pulsing and spasming to such an insane degree that he can barely move. Mind blown to fucking smithereens, your ears ring too loudly to hear whatever he says to you when he cums again — hard — and the arms bearing his weight buckle.

Jihoon’s flushed cheek winds up pressed to your shoulder. He stays there while your joint trembling subsides, then any muscle that could make him move is too spent to do so.

“What just happened?” He sounds as delirious as you feel. “That was… shit. What did your body just do?”

You have no idea. 

You have no capacity to form any.

All you have is the weight of his frame on yours and that of your eyelids, which flutter as you try and fail to keep them open. The best you can give is a non-responsive, utterly fucked-out sound — not enough shape to be a word, not enough breath to be a sigh.

Eventually, although you can’t imagine how, Jihoon finds enough strength to shift himself off of you. You don’t see anything that happens next, but you feel it all — the kiss to your temple; the hollowness when he pulls out and the sticky rush that chases him when he leaves.

“I’m coming back to clean you up,” he promises in a hushed tone from a million miles away. Chuckling despite his own sleepiness, he adds, “Don’t move.”

I won’t, you think but don’t say.

And you don’t move.

At least, not until the smell of hotteok reaches you eight hours later.

svt taglist: @ashonheavenscloud @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @rasparagus @bouclesdefeu @ourkivee @sourkimchi @gyuguys

multi taglist: @bahng-chrizz @jihopesjoint @notevenheretbh1 @borabitsch @bubbly-moon

also paging the cap gang: @daechwitatamic @yoongukie-ff

[thewritersofdeceased]

HELLOO!! Soooo I so love your Tbp content!! And This is my first time ever requesting anything, and I'm so excited for tbp 2 anyways enough of my rambling :>>

Can you please make a Vance x Reader, like for example Vance is like very into Reader but reader is terrified of him bc of his reputation and all yk? If that makes sense lol

Hey, hey! No worries about the rambling I love it! This was a blast to write!! (please anyone request more Vance stuff I love writing him so much)

Gender neutral pronouns ! 

Vance was in love.

That’s right. For once in his life, Vance Hopper was in love. It felt weird. He saw how this sort of stuff affected his parents, but he hoped this wouldn’t end up the same. His parents were a terrible duo. At least his father was. He worked with the law, and he was usually the one to show up and drag the blonde into the station. He always got annoyed. Not like Vance cared what his father thought. Let alone how many times he got dragged to the station.

No. Vance cared about what someone by the name of Y/N thought about him. That's who he was in love with. But Vance was a violent kid, a kid with a hot-temper and a couple records in the cops record book. The amount of fights he got into and the amount of times he got arrested because of them. Or the threat of charges. Now that was hell when ever a parent of a kid would threaten him with charges, let alone when it was Moose. He hated Moose. Moose was a bully, everyone knew this. Though he despised the man whenever he would go after Y/N. The amount of times those two fought and got sent to the principles office was crazy.

Way too many times could Vance recall that. But here he stood again, leaning against his locker and standing beside a couple boys. They were younger than him, he could see that. Vance was around fourteen, the oldest of the group. He was the one about to go to highschool whilst the others entered their separate grades. That was fine with him. The boys would still have connections to him, they didn't live that far and the middle school wasn't a far walk. So if any of them got hurt or in a fight, Vance could run to the middle school and help 'em. Until Billy finally hit his own Freshmen year. Griffin was the youngest, so of course it would take a bit of time for him to reach High-School.

But what if y/n and him went to different high schools? What if y/n's parents decided to leave Denver and go somewher else? A soft sigh escaped Vance as a voice to his right rang out. "C'mon, Vance. You have to talk to them sooner or later." The voice to the right of him was Bruce Yamada, the second oldest of the group. "Right. They're scared of me, dumbass." Vance commented, rolling his eyes as he leaned his head against the locker. It only stiffed a laugh out of Bruce, who raised his brow and gently nudged Vance's shoulder. Bruce knew why people were weary of the group, and it was all because of Vance's reputation. But he wasn't the one to speak up next, no. Griffin did. Even if the boy hardly spoke, being selective Mute. "It's your reputation, Vance." The youngest boy thought of the blonde like an older brother.

Which, Vance didn't mind. He would protect the youngest kid with his life. He'd protect any of these kids with his life, even if he died. Well, he didn't want to die, that was for sure. A sigh escaped him as his arms crossed. "Well, then I've gotta pick up my act, ain't I? If I want a chance with them?" This surprised the younger and second oldest. "You really plan on changing your ways, Vance?" Bruce asked as he stared at the blonde with messy hair. It'd be a challenge for the fighter. He knew that for sure. But he needed to change if he'd have a chance with Y/N. A low sigh escaped Vance as he crossed his arms and hummed. "I have to. I like 'em, you all know this." He reminded, trying to keep himself calm as he watched y/n interact with their friends.

This may take a while, but if he wanted to talk to them? He had to do it. He had to stop getting into fights, as bad as that would be. Specifically when it came to Moose. Or Buzz and Matt, and even Matty. He was a fighter, but he'd stop for his crush. Lower his reputation one way or another.

[misfitgirlwrites]

Lucifer Having A Crush On You/How Would He React?

I'm not biased, I'm not biased, I'm not biased, I'm not biased, I'M NOT--

It's time for my fictional love and life and all I hold dear in my daydreams. Bitches, bros, nonbinary hoes, and genderfluid fucks, I present to you the Big Dick in Charge

I may reference works that I've read and when I do I'll drop their @ and link to their story it is law that you read it if you read mine, I don't make the rules

CW: none, slightly angsty but nothing too intense!

Alright, doves, this is post-season one. Lucifer now resides in the hotel with everyone and is slowly adjusting to being graced with Alejandro's Alastor's presence every day.

Let's be honest, our baby pays attention but puts in minimal effort. Saying that the days went by in a blur would be an understatement. Even conversations would be forgotten after a few short moments. On to the next task. Full focus on this thing. Once that's done? Well onto the next task! No tasks? Free time to spend with Charlie!

Things would start slow, and to really interact, you'd most likely start to approach him first. Maybe you've spent long enough watching the blond anxiously bounce around the hotel and graciously give himself a bit too much for even the Big Boss of Hell.

A timid approach from you, offering to help with whatever he's currently doing. Maybe you make snacks for everyone in the hotel and hand him his personally :)

And so it begins! A greeting here, a greeting there, slightly awkward conversations that slowly start to feel less forced with the little information you learn about each other along the way.

It's...nice! Refreshing! Lucifer would be more excited than anything and talking to you would become a part of his regular routine without much thought on the matter. You'd occasionally be on his mind just a little more, and he'd start to seek you out himself too.

I know you're already seeking him out. Bitch I'M seeking him out.

Helping with chores around the hotel quickly turns into simply enjoying the other's company.

One day you gift him his very own ceramic duck! You could have paid for it from somewhere or made it yourself.

Either way, he'd fucking LOVE it! Honestly, if you decide to try your hand at making it, he'd love it even more with all the rough edges and little bumps (it was made out of love for my babies who never touched clay in their lives)

In response, please expect many gifts in return. I like to think it's been a while since he's gotten a genuine gift like this

(Bonus headcanon: Charlie will see this and will come to you the next day with a list of things she wants to gift him and you two are unofficially officially the Buy Lucifer Anything Duck-Themed duo)

Lucifer loves how you react when he gifts you your very own rubber duck. Your smile and happiness always seemed contagious to him. It only led to him making/getting you more things.

You will have a rubber duck collection by the end of this, but what can you really say? Each one of them is based on something you mentioned before. A movie character, a book character, a cartoon character, even friends or family members if they were mentioned. The gesture is way too sweet for you to turn down, even if it is the 30th duck you've received.

Now prepare for what I like to call the "get along t-shirt" phase but both parties are willing LMAO.

Lucifer will be by your side as long as you'll accept the company and if you're reading this and we brain the same, that will be all the time.

I love the GenZ!Reader memes and fics. Someone show this man bacon pancakes and if it was already done, SHOW ME.

Between his relationship with Charlie and with you, Lucifer actually feels the need and wants to be a little more present bit by bit. He notices that he is spending less time in his head, but he continues on in fear of fucking it up if he thinks too hard about it.

So instead he'll 100% focus on the little familiarity of happiness, as small as those moments may be sometimes. This is EXACTLY why the thought of him potentially feeling romantic interest again goes right over his head.

Who notices first, you ask? Charlie, of course. You slowly but surely became one of his main topics in conversation, it wasn't hard for her to pick up on it and ask.

Baby boy would straight up deny it at first. Him?? Liking someone else??? LMAO, am I right? Of course, after he does this, he'll have the time to actually pay attention to his actions.

So then he'll notice how excited he is every morning knowing that you'll be the first face he sees. He'll notice how he managed to fit you into any task he had to do. When he'd get lunch for himself and Charlie he'd have the automatic thought of making something for you as well. Even when the day was over, he'd be thinking about spending the next day with you. To be frank, you were constantly on his mind. 

Once he notices it's a big mental "fuck". Nothing about you is wrong of course, it's him, or so he thinks.

Let's start with the elephant in the room, or shall I say the ring on his finger lmao

In Lucifer's mind, he's still married technically. Even thinking about it in a technical term was a new development and it made him feel absolutely horrible. Lilith left, sure, but who knows what happened? Regardless of how he felt, he didn't want to hurt her.

But at the same time what about him? Lucifer hasn't been happy in a long time and he's finally building that again, not just with Charlie, but with you as well. He didn't want to just cut you out, he didn't want to hurt you either.

Plus, did you even like him? How would he even approach you? If he wanted to, even after thinking about everything.

Who was he kidding, of course, he still wanted you!

@liveontelevision *drops to my knees and bows* they worded it extremely well here and if you're reading this but you haven't read this already or you clicked the link then clicked back here, go back and read it. I don't care how long it is. Do the thing then come back.

Welcome back. It was good, wasn't it? I know.

The only awkward period for you two is the week-long contemplation of everything (half him attempting not to do what he always does when stressed but by the time he realizes he already made like 30 ducks--)

He would clearly go out of his way to either try and talk to you or avoid you. Or a cute mixture of both where he makes a scene approaching you, realizes he's not ready yet, then makes a scene so he can disappear *finger guns*

A little crisis here, a few little rubber ducks there, and a looooonnnggg conversation with Charlie and Maggie Vaggie.

Those are the ingredients to a semi-stable Lucifer with enough bravado to talk to you normally again.

He'd apologize for the times he basically pulled a Houdini in your face and he'd explain himself fully, all while also confessing his love for you.

It's choppy, it's fast-paced in some areas, and the poor blond was ready to disappear at any given moment, but that's what made it so real for you.

The weight that's lifted off of him couldn't be described, and neither could the joy that welled in him the moment he saw your beautiful smile and heard nothing but your acceptance and love.

What an emotional roller-coaster, am I right?

Lucifer Taglist: @alastorssimp @saints-wrapped-in-plastic @heart-of-the-morningstar

Requests are open! If you'd like to be tagged in future Lucifer or Hazbin Hotel content, please let me know! My asks and DMs are open to all!

[svsss-brainrot-blog]

Luo Binghe and Shen yuan interaction where Luo Binghe can read Shen Yuans thoughts.

It comes with the dusk, after a long day handling strange flowers for trade, when Shizun deigns to allow his humble and devoted husband to bathe him, and run the teeth of his ivory comb through long, dark tresses.

“Ah, Luo Binghe,” echoes in the back of his mind, like a sacred whisper, something warm flowing within it. “You are far too good to this old man.”

His hands still for a moment, halfway through a stroke of devotion. With a curious hum, Shizun’s eyes open, catching his in the mirror, and a trace of confusion slinks through that place behind his own thoughts.

“Binghe? Is something wrong?” His eyes search over him in that way they always have, but there is nothing to see when his mind is where the curiosity lays.

The thing is, Luo Binghe is not unused to having another’s thoughts in his mind. But he has never had Shizun’s. Even more so, it seems his revered master and husband has no idea that he’s doing it. Perhaps one of the Tethered Thought Lilies from earlier had managed to cling some of its pollen to the demon’s sleeve without notice. A careless mistake, he ought to know better. He’ll have to scour the room to make sure he didn’t track anything else in by accident.

“Nothing is wrong, Shizun,” Luo Binghe assured him, resuming the task at hand. The lilies were not very potent, and with the level of cultivation he and his husband possessed, they could not garner an effect for more than a few incense sticks’ worth of time, if that. “This humble disciple was only admiring the beautiful view.”

Right on cue, a fetching trace of pink races to color the fine, soft pale skin of Shen Qingqiu’s face.

“I swear he’s trying to get me to explode some days! What shameless words! How much more must I be expected to endure before he makes his move?”

“Shizun must know,” Luo Binghe continues, setting down the comb in favor of nosing along his husband’s neck. “That he is the best sight this unworthy one could ever see, in any lifetime.”

“This is it,” come Shen Qingqiu’s thoughts, trilling with something like anticipation. “The part where he kisses me and whisks me away...”

Luo Binghe smiled, and, just to be contrary, pulled back to pick up the comb once more.

“Huh? He didn’t…?”

Luo Binghe twisted the long, luxurious hair into a simple braid. “May this lowly one accompany Shizun to rest?”

“What. The. Hell.” His Shizun’s voice nipped at his mind, filled with a buzz that the demon lord could only identify as the beginnings of irritation. “Where the fuck is my kiss, Luo Binghe?! All that talk all day of love and devotion and you aren’t even going to kiss your one and only fucking husband goodnight?! What was all that buildup today for if you were going to back off at the last moment?!”

“If it pleases Binghe, this master will permit it,” is what his husband actually says with grace and elegance, but Luo Binghe is struck dumb for a moment by the sheer intensity and vulgarity that just swept through his mind. Something sharp and unpleasant digs into his consciousness where he can feel their short, unplanned bond.

With a smooth motion, Shen Qingqiu stands from the vanity and slips away, and as soon as his hair leaves Luo Binghe’s hands, the thread that binds them snaps.

“Shizun wait,” the demon calls, quickly moving to hold the other around the waist, nearly melting as the feeling of connection returns.

“Stupid.” Shizun’s voice cuts through at the first brush, cold and cruel. “What idiotic thing was I thinking? He had his fill just this morning, he would not care enough for it again so soon. And why should I care? Not every word is meant to ply my willingness. Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

And then, a thought so quiet, it barely registers under all the other cacophony. “Did I do something to displease him? Is that why?”

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe calls, once more burrowing into his neck. Guilt cut thick through his heart, making the scar on his chest ache. Shizun would fret, and undo all the effort Luo Binghe had put into his relaxing bath, but he could not bear to let his most beloved think he was unwanted. “…Shizun could never displease this lowly demon.”

“What.” Shen Qingqiu’s thoughts echo his words.

“Forgive me, Shizun,” Luo Binghe asks, tightening his hold. “It seems this unfilial one had some pollen left on his sleeves from the Tethered Thought Lilies. I should not have pried.”

“FUCK,” his inner thoughts declare as he abruptly pulls away.

“Luo Binghe!” his master chastises with a scandalized expression. “You-!”

“Shizun’s thoughts are so straightforward,” Luo Binghe says, bowing his head. “And this one did not think the short duration would be of consequence. But this Luo Binghe was wrong.” Still, he reached out, pulling the other close once again. “But this one did not mean to upset his husband, whom he loves dearly and longs for with great affection.”

With as much repentance as he could muster, Luo Binghe laid a chaste kiss at the corner of his husband’s lips. The immortal master simply stared at him for several long moments, tumultuous emotions flittering through the back of Luo Binghe’s mind faster than he could decipher.

“Take me to bed if you’re truly so sorry, you foolish thing.”

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe purred, lifting the other easily into his arms for a proper kiss as he carried them to their chambers. “I love you.”

“Fool,” Shizun sighed, acting put upon even as a trill of pleased satisfaction rumbled through Luo Binghe’s thoughts.

“I love you too.”

[nrdmssgs]

Dom König scenario

Masterlist

Ok, we had him soft and obedient, how about his other side? Because you don't call someone the King, if they are just tender little angels. Smut under cut.

You were sure, it was you, who actually initiated this all: after months of silent yearning, back and forth dynamics, pinning and practically burning alive with desire you ended up in his hands, your lips pressed against his in desperate attempt to put an end to this slow torture in any possible way: be it with or without him.

He doesn't answer on your kiss, doesn't flinch or frown. Just sits there with a half smile and looks down on you, not breaking the eye contact for a single moment.

Little did you know, you were never in charge. Every interaction, every smallest chat, every stolen smile, lingering gaze - it was all orchestrated.

König loved the good old hunt, thrived on the outrageous hopelessness with which his prey, without realizing it, rushed towards him. Tinkered little traps, mislead, confused, threaded illusions of one-sided hunger to drive you to absolute desperation for him.

He may have always been the quiet one, but one needs not many words, when he can get anything with the slightest brush of fingers, or an 'occasional' eye contact (and of course he squinted and tilted his head slightly to one side, not because he knew what it does to you).

König gradually let you closer and closer. Tricked you into believing that you're the one who's so fearless to fall for him: a living weapon of mass destruction. An absolute menace, turning friendly and smiling around you.

Little did you know, poor thing, little did you know... Until the trap was shut.

His hands barely touch your waist as if he was protecting you from falling off his lap, he doesn't try to pull you closer. You understand, that it is the end of you: he didn't react to your touch, kept silent, his heart was still and calm.

Blush washes over your face. "I'm sorry, König. Oh fuck, this is embarrassing. I didn't mean to... No, I actually meant, but not that. Sorry, I better shut up and leave you be. I promise, this won't happen ever again."

Your babbling amuses him. No, he doesn't want to harm your feelings or bully you, he knows exactly, what is going to happen very soon, but he can't help but indulge in those last moments of your alleged freedom.

It's when you try to pull away, you feel his hands clasp around your waist. "Who said, I don't want this to happen again?" His voice is quiet, lower than usual. Like honey from the Tyrolean forests, it covers your mind with a thick golden veil of lust.

You can't think straight, can't believe your own ears, and yet you dare not resist when he pulls you closer, letting you touch his lips again. Another lingering kiss.

But this time his smile widens. "Nochmal*," he purrs and lets out a low chuckle, when he sees your puzzled expression.

Don't worry, he will make sure you have enough opportunities to learn every single phrase, he might want you to understand and use on your own. He won't translate anything to you though - showing is always better than telling!

So he lets you kiss him once more. "Nochmal". And again. "Nochmal". And again... Till his tongue lazily rolls past your lips.

He tastes you like the most precious drink. Sip after sip, until you lay beneath him, trembling of need.

"My little sunshine, bearing so much love for me... Was it hard to dream of my touch every other night? Did it hurt, when you clenched around your thin, fragile fingers, fantasizing, how good can I make you feel in comparison?" You can't tell if he is genuinely concerned or just loves to fluster you that much.

And don't you even think to look away for a moment, to take a break and collect your thoughts - he'll grab your face while kissing you only to make his point: eyes on him until he commands otherwise.

Yes, commands come too pretty quickly in your life. But how can he possibly resist, when you're so eager to do anything, he lets you doing?

"You may moan into my mouth, meine Süße*, I don't mind some music*" While his fingers are knuckle deep in you. And moan do you, his sweet obedient angel.

He doesn't rush anything and more than happy to please you with his fingers and tongue first couple of times. This may come off as pretty humble, but he in fact just waits, till you are desperate enough to beg him to fuck you properly.

Poor thing too desperate, flustered and overwhelmed... Of course, he would fuck you absolutely incoherent if you ask nicely. He has such a soft spot for your wet eyes, he'd make you go limp, your eyes rolling back, little whimpers leaving your lips with every thrust, as he holds your hips tightly picking up the pace. Fucking your fears and anxieties away. Making you feel high.

Lots of reassurance, praise and confessions. Constantly. Even in the most extreme moments. "Who are you, little sunshine?" "Your fucktoy." "...and?" "Your treasure..." "Gu-u-u-utes Mädchen*... and?" "Love of your life?" "Liebe meines Lebens*."

*Nochmal - once again *meine Süße - my sweet one *Gu-u-u-utes Mädchen - go-o-o-od girl *Liebe meines Lebens - love of my life

[spooky-bunnys]

Title: Not like other Alpha's

Fandom: Haikyuu

Pairing: Kenma x M! Reader

Warnings: ABO, bad mouthing, and slight fluff

Other: thank you @reallyromealone for helping me write this

(Name) never quite understood why everyone thought his Alpha didn't care for him. Kenma adores (Name). He just shows his love in a different way.

Kenma isn't one for PDA, but in private he really enjoys curling up with (Name) and playing his games. He also really enjoy's (Name)'s cooking, and always makes sure to compliment his cooking in some way. Or when (Name)'s anxiety gets to be hard to handle, Kenma will gently scent (Name) and hand him the game he was just playing to calm him down.

Kenma proves his love in a more personal way then others. (Name) isn't someone who enjoys big fancy gifts. He enjoys the smaller things.

Like the time Kenma saved (Name) from having an allergic reaction to Lev's sushi he was trying to share. Both (Name) and his golden retriever best friend had forgotten about his allergies to sea food. Thankfully Kenma intervened and scolded Lev about forgetting (Name)'s sea food allergy.

(Name) adores how his Alpha cares for him. But he's getting more and more tired of people talking bad about Kenma. His Alpha told him not to worry about it, but he can't help it! While (Name) was the more forgiving of the two there was certain lines you don't cross with him. Bad mouthing his Alpha is one of those lines.

~

(Name) tensed as he sat in the bleachers of another Nekoma High School Volleyball game. He could hear the people behind him talking about him. Which normally he doesn't care about. But its when they doubt his Alpha when he's had enough.

"I seriously don't see what (Last Name) sees in him! All Kozume does is play his games and barely even interacts with him. I bet (Last Name) is feeling so deprived of attention and affection. The poor Omega...."

(Name) grit his teeth and tightened his hold on the railing. They didn't know Kenma like he did. He gives (Name) plenty of attention and affection. Those idiots don't know what their talking about.

"Yeah. I heard (Last Name) has been hanging around the other Volleyball players more. He's probably trying to get their attention since Kozume won't give him any."

(Name) could feel his hands going numb from how tightly he was holding the railing. He was so thankful Kenma convinced him to wear scent blockers today since his heat was nearing in a few days. If he wasn't (Name) just knows his sour would be the farthest from his usual (scent) right now.

Just as he was about to snap at them, (Name) felt a familiar warm hand and the gentle scent of cherries made him instantly relax and smile. (Name) turned and saw Kenma staring at him. His eyes filled with worry and it made (Name)'s heart soar.

"(Name) are you okay? I could feel your distress and anger through our bond."

(Name) smiled at his Alpha. This was another reason (Name) loved him so much. If Kenma felt even the slightest bit of uncomfort or distress through their bond, nothing would stop Kenma from finding and comforting him. (Name) shook his head and sent a quick sharp look to the gossiping idiots above them.

Kenma followed his Omega's eyes and narrowed his own before calmly wrapping an arm around him.

"Come on. The game is about to start and we need our manager on the court with us. I don't think I can be my best if you're not down there with me."

(Name) smiled once more and excitedly followed his Alpha. Kenma may not be like other Alpha's, but he was everything (Name) could want or need in one. As (Name) looked ahead, Kenma sent a deep and sharp glare at the now paling Alpha's. He'll deal with them later.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Hello Poly! The short stories you're putting out are absolutely making me feral. Thank you for all the anons and their creative minds and thank you for writing and expanding on it beautifully. You inspire me to write my own 😭😭 I've been thinking of an older reader Empress Consort and a much younger Commander Gojo and him continuously getting all the wrong conclusions and falling hard despite the Empress only using him for her own pleasure (he knows this but he can't stop his feelings anyway). Im gonna stop before I get carried away

You cant just leave me with this 10/10 take and leave gET BACK HERE-

you are the brains of the operation, not your idiot husband. He's the Emperor only in name; all the advisors and officials know who's pulling the true strings. While he's off in brothels, you maintain and ensure the kingdom prospers. He may have been born into royalty, but you fought to rule. You don't mind his sleazy behavior. His preoccupations leave the kingdom running smoothly, and its not like you've ever missed his touches. 

Satoru is a stupid child when he catches your eye. Apart from his clan name and excellent swordsmanship, he has nothing going for him. He has no tact, often talks his head off, and is just 20 years old. Everyone tells you he's barely fit enough for a squire's post, but you don't listen to them. You've been needing to get rid of the current commander: A drunk that's only there due to nepotism. You choose Satoru because he looks easy to control. He's a child, eager to please, despite his brash nature. Smart, but his lack of aspirations leaves him open. You know with enough gold and women, you can tame him. He reminds you of a dog: treat-motivated, all bark; no bite, loyal. He's barely a dog, more like a yipping puppy.

For Satoru, it starts off as innocent admiration. You're strong. You keep your head held high. But you're also kind and generous. You're more than a decade older than him but he's never found someone so beautiful before. 

The emperor doesn't deserve you. 

It devolves into there. You're clearly trapped in your marriage. A beautiful, lonely, empress, locked in an ivory tower, silently begging for help. It doesn't help that you're practically teasing him with every interaction. You laugh at his jokes. Brief touches on his shoulder. Once you reached up to pluck a fallen flower out of his hair. You're in love with him, but you can't do anything about it because of your current marriage and your status. 

Only he can save you. 

Soon, Satoru realizes that once he puts his mind to it, he can do anything. It takes less than a decade for tensions to rise between the crown and the people. The secret of what the king's been doing is out. Using the people's money for whores while children are starving. The revolution bloomed underneath Satoru's fingertips. 

He takes the throne with little difficulty. It helps that the Gojo clan also had a claim to the throne, which only furthered his rule. The day he is crowned, your miserable husband is stripped and hung. 

You're technically a traitor to the throne, but Satoru would rather die than let you see the inside of a dungeon, much less the gallows. You're kept high up in an ivory tower, locked away for only his eyes to see. 

You're a pampered prisoner, but still a prisoner. You aren't allowed to leave, you can't do anything but rot in your silk bedsheets. Such obstruction of freedom is enough to drive anyone to extremes. You're strong, but Satoru is stronger. A month and a half after your husband's death, you finally agree to marry him. 

Even the most loyal dogs bite if their owners starve them enough. 

[lilioopdf]

always enough time (cardigan)

pairing: reader x (childhood best friend! + college!) pepe marti

notes: fluff, a little angst, then fluff again! 3.2k words (oops 😓😓 i should've probably split this up)

warnings: mentions of alcohol

a/n: dedicating this to my lovely mutuals who have been here from the very beginning and even before i started writing 💗💗 idk if this is too sappy but i genuinely love you guys for interacting with my writing posts and my non-racing posts because it really does mean so so much to me and i didn’t know any better way to say thank you

and if you’re reading this, have a lovely lovely day/ahead ahead 💞💞 may people always shower you in love and warm hugs

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the first time his eyes meets yours, you’re 4, clinging onto your father’s trousers as he speaks to another man about work related things. it is a business event, after all. he waves at you, a complete stranger then, and he watches as your head tilts a little, eyebrows raising slightly in surprise, before you hide your face behind your father.

he’s six, and yet he still feels his face burn in embarrassment, all because the prettiest girl at the party didn't say hi back.

he sees you again the next day, when you're both having dinner with your fathers at a hidden little restaurant near the beach. your fathers recognise each other almost instantly, and you suddenly find yourself sat next to him as the adults talk about complicated grown up topics over some drinks.

after dinner, he offers you half his cookie under the table, and you give him half of your ice cream in return.

he's too shy to say anything this time, but he lets you play with his toy car the very moment he notices you looking at it curiously.

it's a strange start to your friendship, but it's a sweet one nonetheless.

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you grow up together, but at a distance, only seeing each other during summers when you would follow your fathers to overseas work conferences.

he looks out for you for years.

when you're 8, he teaches you how to ride a bike. how to tie your shoelaces so you don't have to stick to velcro shoes forever. how to run faster, how to run without tripping over your own feet. he's gentle with you, and doesn't ever seem to mind your clumsiness.

you're only ever the same height as him once, and that is when you're 11. that year, his hair is almost always a little too overgrown, but he smiles more, and he has more stories to tell. he's at a new school now, one where they can bring their own phones with them. he tells you about the new subjects he's learning; physics, chemistry, english lit, and history. he has more friends now, and he shows you pictures of them alongside their text messages about online games you don't quite get.

when you're 13, he seems so different from the boy you knew last year. he's significantly taller than you now, and his voice cracks a less frequently than it used to, but he still blushes lightly whenever it happens. you don't mind though. if anything, it makes him even more endearing. pepe tells you about how he joined his school's soccer team this year, but you're sure you would've known even if he didn't tell you. he's so much happier these days, but he seems so grown up too. so much more ahead of you in life, at least.

the year you turn 15, things start to feel a little funny. 2 years feels like too big of a difference between the two of you now, and he just feels like too much of a boy. he towers over you now, and his voice has changed so much that you couldn't recognise it when he called out your name at the airport. you notice how the girls around you seem to look at him a little longer, letting their gaze linger on him for a little too long before they notice you at the side, standing awkwardly and feeling just a little too out of place.

you don't know how to feel about the fact that he's almost always looking at you instead.

now, he's quicker at picking up on your body language. he puts an arm around you and holds you when he can tell that your cramps are too bad, he's quick to offer you his jacket when the wind is just a little too chilly, and he's always carrying around your things for you. "just looking out for you," he says. "don't want you feeling alone when i'm right here."

and then you're 16, and lines start to grow a little blurry. it's a year full of insecurities and unfufilled longing, and most of the summer is spent in your head. it's weird to hang around him like that now. you start to distance yourself from him, but you're pretty sure he doesn't notice anyway. he still brings you around for dinner with him and to hang out, and you accept, but you don't ask him to follow you to places you'd like to visit anymore.

you run into a school friend of his one day, and you're suddenly made aware of just how differently he acts around you. his friend's nice to look at, you think. pepe tells you that's he's a soccer teammate from school. he calls you pretty and asks for your instagram, but pepe says something you don't understand in spanish and his friend just nods, apologises, and leaves, leaving you feeling just a little wounded and put off. you wonder if you did something wrong, but you're too scared to even ask your school friends for advice. they've all passed this silly stage anyway— you're the only one who's never even had a crush, let alone be asked out.

pepe gets his first girlfriend by the end of the year, and you're almost happy for him, except you can't help but feel a little jealous. it's silly though, you think. you're just a lovesick teenage girl pining over an older boy. she's cool and loud and she's always able to visit the same places and parties as him. a perfect match. he sees her more often than he sees you anyway.

your friendship ends on a rocky note the year you turn 17. neither of you follow your fathers the next year. neither of you can. it's pepe's last year with you before going off to university.

that summer, you're on your phone almost the whole time, texting a guy from school who's just asked you out. a hockey player of some sort. he parties and drinks a lot, but he's nice to you, and somewhat interested, you suppose.

when pepe finds out, he lets out a huff of laughter. "you're not seriously considering dating him though, are you? this is just for fun, right?"

you feel yourself still at his words. "what do you mean?"

"he won't be good for you. you're just... not like that. that lifestyle wouldn't suit you," he replies nonchalantly.

your blood burns just underneath the surface of your skin in anger and annoyance.

"who are you to say what lifestyle suits me? maybe this is what i want. i've grown up, you know."

you're more hurt than angry, although you're not quite sure why. your tone is indignant and fierce, and you watch as his expression turns neutral and unreadable and his eyes flicker from you, to your phone, and back at you again.

when he realises that you're being serious, his face contorts into an ugly expression, one of anger and almost a little bit of hurt.

"fine, suit yourself then."

then he walks out the room, and hot tears start running down your face.

and that is that. he still says goodbye to you at the airport, but the both of you don't hug this time.

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you try not to think about him for the next two years.

you drown yourself in your schoolwork, tackling assignment after assignment, exam after exam, anything to prevent yourself from indulging in any thoughts of him.

when a childhood friend brings him up one day, asking why you don't meet him during summer anymore, you pretend that he was just a phase. just a blip in your life; minor and insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

time goes by, and you continue to study hard, because you want to study humanities and the arts in university but still have the grades to prove that you could've done stem if you wanted to (like pepe, although you'd never admit to thinking that).

and then in a blink of an eye, you've graduated, and your months long break comes around as you wait for uni results to come back out.

its been a full two years now, but you'd be lying if you said you'd forgotten about him completely.

how could you?

you thought about him during mugging season in school, and during university applications, and sometimes (maybe especially so) during interschool games for soccer, imagining what it would be like if he was here, playing for your school team. (you also wonder what it'd be like to wear his jersey and cheer him on loudly and proudly in front of the whole schoot, but that's not something you're ever going to admit.)

you spend your summer soothing yourself to sleep by reminding yourself that pepe's been gone for two years now, and you're still doing fine. that you have done fine without him, and that you can and will continue to do so.

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imagine your horror when you realise you've been posted the same university as pepe. same campus too.

your father is ecstatic. he immediately wants to call up pepe's dad and tell him the news but you beg him not to, tears in your eyes. you can't risk looking like a hopeless and dependent little puppy even before the school term has started.

before the first day of uni, you've already studied the campus map well enough to plan routes that avoid going near the school of engineering, just so you can avoid pepe. you're almost 100% confident that you'll be able to hide from him for his remaining two years in uni. plus, you definitely look different from the way you did two years ago, so you technically have an extra layer of protection.

except you have an orientation camp the very first week of uni, and you're just that lucky enough to have a familiar face as one of your orientation group leaders.

he recognises you instantly. how could he not?

you half expect him to ignore you, or at least, pretend not to know you. but to your surprise, he smiles. in fact, he beams at you, and he waves before jogging over to sit next to you. your mouth is slightly agape, and you can't tell if this is some kind of cruel joke that he's playing on you right now.

"how have you been? you're lucky to be here today. the weather isn't usually this nice, and i know you get chilly easily." he's still smiling while speaking to you, and he's just acting so... normal, but you?

you feel like smacking him. you left each other on a sour note two years ago, after being friends for more than a decade, and he chooses to talk about the weather, of all things.

but you just put on a smile and act the same.

arguing with a best friend is one thing, having to make small talk about mundane, boring, topics with a friend you've known for years and then forgotten is another. you can't figure out if talking to him is helping heal your heart or slowly shattering it into more tiny little pieces.

‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊‧ ₊

the first few weeks of uni fly by, and you don't end up using any of your pre-planned routes.

in fact, you end up meeting pepe almost every day before you your lessons. for breakfast, or brunch, or lunch... and maybe even dinner, once both your classes are done.

you can’t read him that well, and you wonder if this is only weird for you. but you’re not one to complain. you’re not one to take this for granted either.

you’ve spent years of your life missing summer and pepe, and then you spent two more years missing him without even speaking to him at all. no, you’re definitely not taking this for granted.

you learn that he's playing soccer for a kids charity event that happens yearly, that he's studying mechanical engineering (which doesn't surprise you at all, not really), and that he's broken up with his girlfriend, because of different goals in life or something. you stop yourself from thinking too hard about whether or not the both of you have compatible life goals upon hearing the last part.

he’s still sweet to you.

maybe even more so now that he can actually look out for you. he always gives you his jacket when you’re cold, offers to help you run your errands on busy days, and he even helps you get special oppourtunities thanks to his friends and connections. and when you’re sick, he gives you updates for classwork even though he’s not in the same classes as you, bringing you heat packs and checking up on you daily with warm teas and essential balms.

it's all so lovely that you could almost cry.

except he’s always just a little too stiff around you. too hesitant to touch, too close for distance.

he'll bring you heat packs on your period, and allow you to lean on his stronger frame when the cramps get too bad, but he never gets close enough to cuddle. and when either of you stay over for too long while studying together, he always offers to sleep on the floor or on the couch, but he never allows himself to lie in the same bed as you.

it's all so polite but so frustrating, and you're even more upset because you have absolutely no right to feel that way. he's your best friend, and he has been for years. he's not someone you could ever have the priviledge of dating, and he deserves a friend he can count on, not someone who's helplessly unable to stop their one-sided longing for him.

and so you let another six months slip away as you spend more time with pepe in your head than physically, while he continues keeping a distance from you, leaving you wondering why.

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suddenly it's feburary, and pepe's been so busy with schoolwork and training for the upcoming charity match that you just don't see him that much anymore. you're pulled back into that aching feeling of loneliness, and busying yourself with your own schoolwork and friends doesn't seem to help.

i can't risk doing badly this semester, he says. this is the one that counts. i’ll have to find myself a good internship for portfolio— maybe with formula one, he says. you nod. you’d be proud of him regardless of what he did anyway.

you end up following him to the gym in the early hours of the morning just to hang out with him, even if hanging out now means you just watch him get through his workout routine while you sit next to him and sort out your schedule.

his friends refer to you as pepe's girlfriend now, and you stopped correcting them when you realised that pepe didn't seem to care. you can't blame them anyway, you're together almost all the time. you're always waiting for him at his apartment after classes, usually in an oversized t-shirt or hoodie of his, and he even wakes up early just to bring you breakfast before class.

the domesticity of it all makes you ache, but you can't even bring yourself to imagine what if would be like if your relationship was actually as desired.

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pepe visits you the night before the charity match.

he brings you a jersey. his jersey, and he shyly asks if you'd be interested in showing up to watch him the next day. you almost scream with joy, but you control yourself, accepting it gracefully and holding the jersey gently and close to your chest.

you whisper a string of thank yous, careful not to wake your roommate up, and all pepe does is pull you in for a hug. he buries his face into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders and all you can do is press yourself closer to him, taking in the scent of clean laundry and his cologne.

before he leaves, he flashes you a teasing smile, a somewhat knowing look on his face as he asks, "am i going to have to say it, or will you?"

you're caught off guard by his comment, and you just tilt your head in confusion, unsure what he's talking about. but he doesn't explain further. he just chuckles, gently shakes your shoulder, and leaves.

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you show up to pepe's match half an hour before it starts, just so you can get a good view of the match. the venue is already half full, and you're just grateful to have gotten front row seats.

you act as casual as you can, pretending that your heart isn't racing while you're wearing his soft jersey, with the number 23 boldly printed onto the back. when your friend teases you about the way your cheeks seem to be permenantly pink, you gently slap her arm and tell her to be quiet in a weak attempt to save your face, which only results in a laughing fit from her.

the match is mostly a blur, but both teams are very evenly matched, and there's suddenly only 4 minutes left to the end of the game and both teams are stuck in a tie.

you're not sure when your focus zoned in on pepe. it could've been since the very start of the match, but you somehow catch that split second when the ball is passed over to him, and his expression changes from one of neutrality to determination. you watch as he expertly drabbles the ball between player to player, rushing to get close enough to the goalpost to shoot before the end of the match.

you're sure that everyone in the venue held their breath at the exact same moment you did, and that time must've stilled when pepe slid and kicked the ball into the goal, just 30s before the end of the match.

the whole venue erupts into cheers. it's defeaning, but all you can think of is how proud you are of him in this moment.

you don't take your eyes off him for even a second, and when the referee finally signals the end of the match, he looks at you too.

he’s all sweaty, hair plastered to his forehead, face flushed.

he's sipping from his bottle, standing directly in front of you, having run straight to you after the match.

your boy.

there's a wicked grin on his face, and you can feel the heat rise up to your face as you take in all of him in awe.

everyone’s staring, you think, but you know he doesn’t care, so why should you?

you barely allow yourself time to hesitate, but he's quicker.

he kisses you.

his mouth is warm and soft, and yet there's a certain pressure and intensity with which he kisses you that makes you think that he probably wanted this as much as you did, maybe more.

and when you both finally break apart for air, you realise that all the cheering is now directed at the both of you, and you can't help but start laughing shyly. he smiles at that, and presses a quick kiss to your temple before rushing off for a debrief, with promises to talk later.

you don't even care that your time together has been cut short, because all you can think about now is how grateful you are that you won't have to return him this jersey.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚ ✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊

© lilioopdf 2024 – please do not plagarise, repost, or translate any of my work on this or other platforms

thank you for reading this far!! stay hydrated and safe always!! 💗💗

taglist: @oscnorris/@httpiastri (the one and only person on my taglist 💕💕 also i realised i forgot to ask you which account you wanted me to tag so i’m just doing 2/3 :p)

[coldfanbou]

Manor: Parting

The new part of the Manor series involves Umji and Taeyeon!

Length 2.1K

Umji x Taeyeon x Mreader

It was the day after. You sit in your room packing a backpack full of clothes and other things you might need. Nayeon was doing the same. You had pulled out a good amount of money from your bank account, and it would last you a couple of months if you were wise with it. Nayeon was doing the same. You’re both nervous; you don’t know exactly what Moonbyul could do for the two of you, but at the moment, you feel like it’s your only choice. Once everything is packed, you hide your backpack in a closet and head out into the manor, taking a walk around the area so you can remember it well.

“Young Master!” You hear from behind you the quick steps of the person, telling you it was Taeyeon. “I have something I have to talk to you about. Could you spare me some time?” 

“Sure, what is it, Taeyeon?” 

“You’ll have to excuse me, but it's something that we should talk about in private.”

“I- alright.” Taeyeon leads you to her room. She opened the door and stepped to the side to reveal Umji sitting on the bed. You hadn’t had too much interaction with her in the time she worked here. “What is this about Taeyeon?”

“You see, Young Master. Umji managed to overhear something about Yuna and Chuu that I thought you should be aware of. Umji, please go ahead.”

The young woman stood up, fiddling with her hands. “I overheard them saying something about Yuna not ending up pregnant and that they would need to try again with you, Master.”

“This is very concerning, Young Master. It seems like they may be trying to force a marriage.” A knock on the door interrupts Taeyeon; she goes to check it. Opening the door just a crack, she sees Moonbyul on the other side.

“Taeyeon, I finished my task. Is there…” Moonbyul goes quiet as she manages to spot you over Taeyeon’s head.

“Moonbyul, you can- can.” Taeyeon struggles to think of a task for Moonbyul when you manage to see who it is. 

“She knows Taeyeon. You can let her in.” You grab the door handle and open the door for Moonbyul. You close the door behind her. “Well, Moonbyul. It looks like you were on the money, but I think Yuna took a different path. According to Umji here, Yuna just planned on getting pregnant to force a marriage.”

Moonbyul nods her head. “I guess that is the fastest way.”

The confused expression on Taeyeon and Umji’s faces is enough for you to explain the situation. “So Moonbyul heard something similar and saw Chuu heading in and out of my father’s office. We have come to the conclusion that it’s my father’s wish.”

“I see.” Taeyeon looks slightly concerned at the prospect. “I’ll talk with him.”

“No, Taeyeon. I’m planning on running away with Nayeon.”

“I don’t understand. If you’re running away with her, why not tell your father? You two could become a couple, and this would all stop.” Taeyeon makes a good point, but this wasn’t as much about marrying and more about wanting your freedom.

“Taeyeon, that’s not what I meant. I meant that we both want to get out of this life. I want my freedom; I don’t want to have my parents watch over me my entire life. Nayeon has her own reasons.” 

“That’s his call, and I’m helping him,” Moonbyul says, stepping back into the conversation.

“I think I should leave,” Umji says as she approaches the door. Taeyeon holds her at the door. “Miss Taeyeon?”

“Young Master. I don’t think you should leave. I think we should have a longer talk about this.”

You sigh in response, “Taeyeon, I don’t think there’s anything you can do to keep me here.�� 

“Let’s just talk this out. I’d like you to leave us, Moonbyul.”

Moonbyul stands there for a moment, “What about Umji?” 

“I need her to stay here for a moment. Please leave us. Now.” Moonbyul bows and leaves the room. “Young Master, please reconsider this. If you talk to your father, I'm sure we could get him to stop all this nonsense.” 

You put your hand up. “Taeyeon, I just need to leave.” She looks to the floor, considering her options.

In a quiet voice, she says, “You wanted me, right?” Taeyeon slips the straps of her maid dress off her shoulders and forces it off her body, leaving her in her bra and panties. “You can have sex with me whenever you want. Umji, you want him to stay here too, right?” She whispers something into Umji’s ears, and soon, she’s stripping down, too. Your body reacts the only way it can after seeing the two beautiful women strip down. 

“Taeyeon,” You whisper before she rushes in and plants her lips on yours. She places your hands on her ass and rubs your bulge. 

“Let me do this, Young Master.” She pulls your cock out of your pants and strokes it gently. Taeyeon looks over her shoulder and nods at Umji. The young woman steps up to you and takes your cock from Taeyeon’s hand, continuing to stroke your shaft. Taeyeon’s kiss muffles your grunt. She starts stripping you of your clothes, starting with your shirt, before dragging you onto her bed to take your pants.

On her bed, Taeyeon continues to kiss you. You feel her fingertip move across your chest, but your focus is soon on Umji’s tongue as she drags it along your shaft. You groan from the pleasure. “Just stay quiet and enjoy this Young Master,” Taeyeon says before moving down your body to join Umji. You stare at them, watching each woman take their turn licking your shaft. Taeyeon cups your balls, moving them in her hand as she plants her lips on your cock and runs them along your shaft. On the other side, Umji is doing the same thing; her cute face and dirty act turn you on. “I’ll let you have it first,” Taeyeon whispers before kissing Umji’s cheek. You see the smile on Umji’s face grow as she moves toward the head and swallows it. Her small warm tongue playfully moves up and down over the head of your cock. Taeyeon strips off her remaining pieces of clothing and straddles your leg, rocking on it. Small moans escape her. She uses one hand to balance herself and uses the other to pinch her nipple. You can feel her nectar rubbing off against your leg. “We can take good care of you here. Always and forever.” She moans. 

You switch between watching Umji and Taeyeon, unable to keep your attention on a single person. Umji begins bobbing her head, taking in half your shaft. She looks pleased with herself as she glances at you. You moan her name; Umji rubs the tip against the inside of her cheek. It’s soft and warm, but soon you feel something else. Umji reaches your pelvis, your cock down her throat. Her voice is garbled as she mouths something. You unconsciously move your hand down and caress her cheek, feeling the skin around her mouth pull as she smiles. Her tongue taps the underside of your cock as she slowly pulls back. She lets go of your cock with a pop, smiling to herself as she kisses the tip. Umji gently sucks on it, involuntarily making you thrust your hips. She’s surprised and giggles before going back to your cock. You’re getting close to your orgasm, your cock beginning to throb in the young woman’s mouth. “He’s cumming.” Umji mumbles for Taeyeon to hear.  

“Go ahead, Umji. Drink it all; you deserve it.” Taeyeon replies before moving to your side. “Let her have it, Young Master.” She whispers into your ear. You give in, pouring your cum onto Umji’s tongue. A happy hum comes from Umji as she greedily drinks every drop. She laps at your tip as your orgasm comes to an end. Opening her mouth, Umji shows you how she drank it all with a smug smile. Taeyeon looks just as happy. She sits up and caresses Umji’s cheek. “I’ll take it from here. You can ride him after.” The two switch places. Taeyeon is between your legs, stroking your cock, getting it hard again while Umji kisses your neck and presses her body against yours. You feel her modest breasts rub against your side. 

Once you’re hard, Taeyeon straddles you aligning herself with your cock. “We love you, Young Master.” She says before pushing your cock inside. Taeyeon throws her head back and moans as she slowly stuffs herself with your cock. “You’re so big. I feel so full.” You see a slight bulge where your cock is inside her. Taeyeon rests for a moment, nearly at her end, despite just putting it in. Umji sits up and attaches herself to Taeyeon’s nipple, running her tongue around her areola. “Ah, Umji, don’t do that. I’ll cum.” Taeyeon moans as she starts grinding on your cock. “It feels so good.” She mumbles as she slowly rises. You grab her hips and pull her back down. “Shit,” You feel Taeyeon’s walls tighten around your cock. She leans forward, biting her lip. Taeyeon’s body goes stiff as she hits her orgasm.

You didn’t realize much you missed being inside Taeyeon; you moan and start thrusting into her tightening pussy. “Y-young Master, wait,” Taeyeon mumbles as she becomes overloaded with pleasure. Your thrusts were driving her crazy; add in Umji teasing her breasts, and Taeyeon was becoming lost in pure bliss. Taeyeon struggled to keep herself up as she felt your cock being slammed inside her. Taeyeon was being pushed toward another climax. “I’m cumming again!” Taeyeon cries out. You hold onto her waist, continuing to piston in and out of her as she cums again. Her tight pussy pushes you slowly toward your orgasm, but you hold on for now. 

Umji detaches herself from Taeyeon, watching as her superior collapses on top of you after her orgasm ends. “Let me rest, let me…” Taeyeon mumbles on about needing to rest. You lift her off your cock and move her to the side. Umji immediately replaces Taeyeon, rolling over you. Her back was to you, you could feel her soft ass against you, and your cock was trapped between her thighs for the moment. She rubs her legs together, making you groan. Umji’s thighs were beyond soft. You hold onto her waist and begin thrusting; after a minor adjustment, you’re cock in rubbing against her slit. Umji releases a small whine; she reaches up and plays with her tits as she watches your cock slide between her folds. 

“Put it in, please, Master. I want your cock.” Umji’s pleas are heard, and you give her what she wants. You slide your cock inside; Umji is tighter than Taeyeon. You both moan loudly. Umji turns her head toward you, and you do the same, kissing her as you begin thrusting. Your hands dig into her soft flesh as you push every inch of your cock inside her. Umji moves one hand down, rubbing her clit. “Harder Master, Harder.” Umji whines. You drive your cock deep inside Umji with every thrust; you can see her body jiggle when you put a lot of strength into it. Umji grabs one of your hands and moves it up toward her breast. Knowing what she wants, you squeeze; you find her nipple between your fingers and try to pinch it. She holds your hand over yours, helping you. Umji’s whines continue to flow as she feels your cock begin to throb inside her. “Master! Cum inside me, please!” You feel Umji walls wrapping around your cock, rubbing every part as she nears her climax. 

“Fuck, I’m going to cum.” You groan. You pull Umji down, impaling her on your cock as you cum. She feels your thick baby batter pour into her. Umji rests against you, her hand slowly rubbing her clit as she comes down from her orgasm. 

“Master’s cum feels so nice. It’s warm,” Umji mumbles blissfully. You kiss Umji, her lips melting into yours. You slip your tongue inside her mouth as your hands wander her body, running over her smooth skin.  “Master can use me whenever he likes,” Umji giggles. You stay inside Umji, letting her be a cockwarmer as you look over at Taeyeon, who’s fallen asleep. You think to yourself about how you still need to go. You decide you’ll at least leave her a note. For now, though, you choose to enjoy Umji for a little while longer.

[syxilla]

If requests is still up then - Can you please do a kenji sato x best friend/ extrovert x introvert relationship. Where kenji likes showing off , reader is reserved. And like a balanced relation?!🙏

Kenji x !introverted bestfriend reader

my requests are open dw! actually this is my first ever ask, so idrk how i'll do- but i think i got what u wanted correctly? (pls tell me if im wrong) also, as usual i dont proof read so mind my mistakes! (Ｔ▽Ｔ)

cw: ken sato x gender neutral reader, relatively sfw, introverted reader, (pre-relationship) best friend reader, reader is a pessimist, ken is aggresively kind (kinda)

-bestfriend! kenji who aggresively shakes you while holding your arm. "y/n!" kenji yells excitedly, this made you drop your book, bending its pages. "oh my- what do you want ji?" you grumbled, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down. "you~" he flirted while smirking.

-bestfriend! kenji who gets a flick in the middle of his forehead. "you made me drop my book." who'd rub the spot with a pout playing on his lips. "that hurttt" he whined. "and what do you want me to do about it?" youd query, picking up your book tryying to find the page. "a kiss to make the pain go away?"hed smile.

-bestfriend! kenji who's smile would grow wider once he felt your soft lift press against his head briefly. "thank you!" hed drag out before swinging an arm pver your shoulder to bring you closer. you know, regular friend things.

-bestfriend! kenji who always forces you out of your comfort zone by dragging you to events such as concerts, parades, festivals and most recently the movies. the movies where hed buy everything for you both, eat an absurd amount of snacks you both knew would make his tummy hurt and yet he still did. putting on a mask to not draw any unwanted attention to you both. forcing you to watch horror movies with him that had an excessive amount of blood and nightmare fuel, making you cling onto his arm whenever itd make you jump. not that he minded. of course he wouldnt mind, he never did when it was you.

-bestfriend! kenji who'd rent out the entire theater if you really didnt want to interact with anyone. youd always try to discourag him from doing so, saying he shouldnt spend a lot of money on you, but he always says its fine. he loves to show off his wealth to you, and he also loves to spoil you. buyinng you gifts and practically anything you wanted. just say the word and youll have it. perks of having rich baseball players as a (sadly) best friend.

-bestfriend! kenji who'd drag you into various fancy stores that someone of your working class would have no idea about just so you could rate the things hed grab. "does this shirt look good on me?" hed ask, as if he could look bad in anything. and youd nod, a slight warmness in your cheeks when youd watch him change in and out of each shirt. trying your best to not stare.

-bestfriend! kenji who'd lay his head on yours or on your shoulder after a tiring game. only wanting to sleep. and you didnt mind, just ruffling his hair and enjoying the company of your friend. all while ignoring the little voices in your friend that were desperately trying to change the word friend into something else.

-bestfriend! kenji who promises to always be by your side in larger crowds. tuggling you close enough so that you felt the warmth generating off of his body. you especially liked this warmth during the winter, he was like your own personal fireplce wrapped in a ball of cuteness and a ribbon of sarcasm.

-bestfriend! kenji who you may or may not have feelings for. the same kenji who just asked you out on a date.

(i hope i didnt dissapoint, ty again for submitting an ask, i hope i did u justice!)

[bugs1nmybrain]

Random NSFW L Lawliet Headcanons (Updated!)

Minors Do Not Interact

These are very unorganized and random, I just have a lot of nasty thoughts about this guy

Updated on: Nov 26th, 2023

Warnings: fem-reader, pretty vanilla but there’s fingering, oral, and mentions of food play. 

He doesn’t have a terribly high libido, but when he does become horny it comes pretty much out of nowhere

And he’s so blunt and a little formal about it

“Y/N, I’d like to have sex. Yes, right now.”

Absolutely, looooves it when you call him by his name during sex, but immediately covers your mouth when it slips. Especially if you’re in a hotel or around a task force member. 

“Shhh, my love...” AAAAAAAA

Sex positions are so so awkward with him. He likes staying in his “deductive reasoning” position pretty much always. Positions with him either involve you in his lap or missionary. L likes missionary a little more because he feels like he gets a thorough feelings of your insides, but he loves how you look on top of him.

Actually, L prefers oral a little more than intercourse. For some reason, it feels more intimate and vulnerable to him. 

He is so SO good at using his fingers on you. Whether he’s rubbing your clit or fingering your insides, he’s good at noticing what movements make your pussy react the most. 

He’s just as good, if not better, at eating you out. Bro DEVOURS you. He can tie cherry stems with his tongue. I’m sure that says enough

If you squirted for him he’d love you so much

I know I mentioned he likes to cover your mouth, but he loves your whimpers and moans

Don’t fake it. He’s got the best bullshit detector. He’d rather you be honest so that you can communicate to him what feels good.

If you give HIM head, oh boy. 

Tease his glans and he’ll probably blow his load then and there.

L is actually pretty..unsexy during all of this?? He’s pretty expressionless, but even so, he’s surprisingly vocal.

Omfg he’s got the cutest grunts and sighs.

If you do something especially pleasing you may be able to elicit a whine out of him.

That’s enough to make me cum on the spot, but this isn’t about me, it’s about L

His cum doesn’t taste too bad. He enjoys eating fruit, which makes him taste tolerable. Encourage him to eat pineapple

He’s a little bit if a creep and a perv. If you’re not looking he’ll absolutely check you out, though you'd be surprised how good his peripheral vision is already.

He's more of a boob guy than an ass one admittedly. He loves how you look all around, but he prefers how your chest feels and they make him so bashful omgg

If you become more comfortable with each other sometimes he’ll cop a feel when you’re distracted. 

I feel like this goes without saying, but, yes, food play is a thing with him. Of course, knowing him. Whipped cream is his favorite because it’s the easiest to clean up. Love love LOVES putting it on your tits and going to town on them.

He’s so eager

He’s actually pretty romantic, in his own sweet way. 

Sometimes when he kisses you he doesn’t close his eyes. He’s a weirdo like that. 

 He’s pretty ok with aftercare. He’s a fan of going to the kitchen and bringing you back food because “you need to replenish your energy.” He’ll cuddle with you and give you forehead kisses while you sleep. He’ll most likely get back up once you’re out, but if he’s tired he’ll sit beside you while he works on his computer, occasionally petting you.

[oozedninjas]

Can I please get some headcanons of the bayverse turtles and how they act when they see their s/o starts hanging out with a friend who clearly has feelings for them but s/o is a bit oblivious🙏

Ooff! I smell trouble! Can someone keep them away from the knives? Also, I'd like to clarify that I support Donnie in his rights and his wrongs.

Leo

He's initially too cocky to be jealous.

And then you start bringing this person up all the time.

You have a friend whom you watch movies with? Cute.

Oh, you went to a bookstore the other day and then got ice cream Fun! They can take you to public places, haha, not wrenching at all.

He's totally chill about it!

He would be so passive-aggressive about the matter 💀

It's pretty funny watching him struggle to keep composure when all he wants to do is swift his katana across their throat.

"Wait- are you jealous?" you ask at some point, in disbelief.

He snickers.

"Me? Of course not. But you do realize they have feelings for you, right?"

He's so bitter

You snort. "What? No! They're just a friend."

"He looks at you like you're a snack," Leo insisted.

"And am I not?" you tease.

"Yeah, but you're my snack."

Raph

Breaking news! That guy's not your friend anymore.

At least not if you wanna keep him as a boyfriend, because how are you gonna go around hanging out with someone who has feelings for you?

"Come on babe, you're overreacting. He's just a friend."

Oh, he will freakin' lose his cool. Narrowed eyes, deep frown, clenched jaw. All the package. How can you be so oblivious?

"Look, I know it sucks for me to ask this, but, would you stop seeing him?" he would ask, cringing at himself. "It makes me uncomfortable," he added, for once in his life following Donnie's advice, as he was working on being a healthy boyfriend for you.

You smile, touching his cheek, "I would never do something that makes you uncomfortable, Raph. I'll talk to him. I can't promise you I'm cutting contact from one day to the other, but I'll do my best."

Yeah, that's enough.

Donnie

Donnie doesn't follow his own advice.

That guy was glued to your side all the freaking time.

"He's just a friend!"

"Please, even Casey can tell he has feelings for you. You're smart. I don't know why you're the only one who won't see it," he grumbled.

You dismissed it, but Donnie had a master plan to get rid of that prick.

"I'm building this new machine to prevent electrocutions in areas with protruding wires in the lair. I just need to test if the insulating materials work," he tells your friend casually. "Do you want to help me test it?"

And what you see in the future of that interaction is your friend electrocuted.

"Donnie, hun, can we talk?"

After you distance yourselves a couple of meters you begin:

"Please tell me you weren't planning to electrocute him."

"As I said, I was just testing my new creation. Any side effects it may have caused would have been a sacrifice for scientific purposes."

"Donnie!"

"Alright! I'm sorry. It bothers me, okay? I can see him lusting for you, and it bothers me. But I didn't want to appear controlling, nor did I want to hurt you by forcing you to cut off a friendship."

You sigh. "No, I'm sorry. I should've known it made you this uneasy. I won't keep it up." you assured.

He gives you a tiny smile. "Thank you."

"No need to. Let's go back," you say before chuckling. "I can't believe you were gonna do that."

Donatello scoffs. "Please, it wasn't gonna kill him."

Mikey

Your best friend is fun to be around! :)

But he has feelings for you :(

And you haven't noticed! Mikey doesn't want to have that conversation just yet.

Yeah, it doesn't sit well with him, but Mikey, you know, he has excellent self-esteem, and he's sure that you love him and him only.

So, while it isn't the most fun situation, he's willing to tolerate this friendship as long as you always give him his place as your boyfriend.

And as long as you and your friend don't hang out alone. Not because he doesn't trust you but because he wants to avoid this friend making a move that might make you uncomfortable.

Such a sweetheart, 10/10

But don't betray him bc he'll dump your ass.