#they un-rounded him..... my boy....

[citrus-soda]

90's Conan: round little guy. charming and polite.

2020's Conan: evil gremlin who stabs you with all his angles

[sugurizz]

(Smut/ NSFW +18 - minors DNI !)

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 ── lover boy! Yuuta

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's playing handball with his friends. His soft dark locks and slender body caught your eye; running around shirtless as his tall frame prances around left and right. with his shiny lips curled up in a smile and his bubbly laughs resonating through the breeze.

Beach Boy! Yuuta who gets so shy when he sees that his ball landed next to you; the cute girl he's been eyeing up throughout the whole game. your sparkly asscheeks barely covered in your bikini strings and your breasts flushed against the warm sand really sent his brain spiralling.

He shyly grabs the ball as he approaches you, asks you if you'd care to join in. Then he furiously blushes when you redirect the question at him "Why don't you come chill under my parasol instead?"

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's hoping your parasol is large enough to cover up on both of you. you're straddeling his lap, messing up his hair and telling him that "he's the cutest boy you saw in the whole beach" as you plant kisses everywhere on his cheeks, chest, neck and lips. You giggle at every flustered whine he lets, until he grabs your hand, asking you to follow him...

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's eating your ass in his little cabin, smothering his face in your tender skin and drowning himself in the milky scent of your pussy. his blushy cheeks, cute eyebags and adorable noises make your pussy wetter for him.

Beach Boy! Yuuta who (un)surprisingly under his cute aura and puppy eyes hides the thickest cock that dangles alongside his left thigh..

"Oh, sorry...is it too b-big?" he mumbles when you tug down on his boxers, his veiny length springs free, almost slaps your cheek as it stands proud against his stomach.

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's now humping you like a bunny in heat. heavy breathes and frustrated sighs escape his pretty lips. face is still soaked in your sweet juices but he could care less..

"You sure you can take me?...don't wanna see you in pain".

"I'd die for your big cock, handsome angel." you whisper, grabbing his mushroon tip and smearing it across your pussy lips.

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's now into demon mode, the sweetness and shyness are long gone with his schlong bullying your pussy senseless. He groans over and over in your ear "you'll be my cute girlfriend...we'll feel good together..every day..."

Beach Boy! Yuuta who watches you with blown dark pupils as you squirt all over his stomach, fevereshly crying out a "Yess daddy.. I'm all yours! Make me yours!.."

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's so embarassed to see his thick cum spurt uncontrollably out his tip because of how hard you squirted on him.

"Sorry, I cum a lot...I'll bring a-"

He stares at you as you collect the ropes of seed he freshly spurted on your breasts, slowly lift your fingers then smear them on your tongue as you lock eyes with him.

"Come kiss me, Yuuta..."

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's shamelessly snowballing with you, making the loudest sloppiest sounds with his own cum bubbling on both your lips and dribbling down your chins. "One more round, angel boy?" You smirk as he struggles to hide his cute boner again...

[kitscutie]

hi! i saw your post about snow omg, can i request a coriolanus x mentor!reader where she’s similar to like clemensia but she’s more close to corio and they have a secret relationship? thank you in advance if you do this rq! love ur tsitp writings sm 🥹

snow and roses: part I (coriolanus snow x fem!reader)

pairing: coriolanus snow x reader

warnings: none!

summary: you and coriolanus have been dating in secret for months, all it takes is one songbird for everything to come into the light.

a/n: first time writing for snow and I'm very excited about it! I've always loved the hunger games and this movie was insane in the best way so please enjoy! I will be making this a series and this is only part one so stay tuned for the rest!

word count: 2.2k

join my taglist here.

"You're going to get it Coryo, don't stress." You soothed the boy as you sat next to him. It was barely even six in the morning and the pair of you had woken up, well he had woken up and you with him as he blatantly needed your support, desperate for the Plinth Prize.

You didn't need the prize, already coming from a wealthy Capitol family and yet you felt the same hope that he would win as you would for yourself, stomach twisting into knots at the thought.

"There's good candidates Y/N, it feels as if the odds are already stacked against me." He sighed, leaning over as he sat so his elbows rested on his knees, head in his hands.

"The odds are in your favour Coryo, you're special. Different." With that he looked at you, a small smile gracing his pale lips. He leaned up kissing you gently, fully embracing the special moment before he got up from his place next to you.

"I'll see you at the Academy?" He asked, knowing you had to leave quickly back to your own house in order to change but also in order to avoid the suspicions of your own family who had no idea of your relationship with Snow.

"Of course." You replied, also standing up and pulling on last nights clothes as you left.

You studied the dark an empty halls of his house, ensuring Grandma'am was nowhere to be seen before you quickly walked to the door, exiting un-noticed until Tigris came around the corner, seemingly equally in a rush and holding a shirt you knew must be for Coriolanus.

"Oh, hello Y/N." She smirked as you both stopped, unsure how to approach the conversation. She was one of the only people who knew something was going on between the pair of you and still she wasn't quite sure what it was.

"Hi Tigris. You look lovely today." You said quietly, feeling like a scolded child even though you hadn't done anything wrong.

"Well if you're here I can only assume Coryo is awake, I'll see you again I assume?" She replied.

"Yes and yes." You answered awkwardly before hurrying away once again, letting out a sigh of relief as you heard her enter the house. You could only hope she wouldn't mention your interaction to Coriolanus.

You walked into the Academy at the same time as you did everyday, conveniently when Coriolanus would also show up.

"Coryo!" You yelled, spotting him across the room. He turned his head to you as though it was a surprise to see you, it wasn't.

"Y/N. What a pleasure." He smiled with his typical Snow charm, allowing you to link your arm with his.

"How are you feeling?" You asked him, thumb gently rubbing his bicep through his shirt. You rounded the corner past the food and yet you both avoided it for different reasons. You having already been fed by your family and their lavish lifestyle and he too nervous to even look at it.

"Never felt better." He replied with false confidence but no one else around you had to know that.

"Snow always lands on top." You teased as you entered the hall, spotting your friends if that's what you could call them stood in the centre of it all, as they usually did, talking about everyone around them no doubt.

"Y/N and Coriolanus, finally some real competition has arrived." Said Arachne, a glass in her hand and a smirk on her face as she always seemed to appear in public.

"Be humble now Arachne, you never know who will be chosen." You smiled, turning on your Capitol attitude in order to fit in. You were Capitol born and raised but your family taught you to be humble and kind. It was clear this wasn't common among parents here.

"Have you tried this lamb? It's scandalous." Said Felix, it made you chuckle how he used such a word to describe food.

"Only the vulgar eat with their fingers Felix, daddy not teach you table manners?" Snarled Festus, it was as though there was always a secret competition between the two of them, never quite made clear, never making sense.

"Maybe he would've if he wasn't so busy running the country. Hey they called us here for the Plinth prize right? 'Cause I heard Doctor Gaul's in the building." Felix changed the subject, knowing he had won. It was impossible to lose as the President's son you supposed.

You hadn't noticed but now Felix had mentioned it you took in the strange atmosphere, tense and mystery lingering in the air. "That is peculiar." You said, holding onto Coryo's bicep tighter subconsciously.

"Plinth. Look at his spawn. Who would've thought you could buy your way into the Academy." Felix once again snarled, he was always filled with such anger though it seemed todays anxiety only heightened this.

"Well you can't buy class. Did you see his mothers outfit? Sorry his Ma's." Festus joked, seemingly over his small tiff with Felix.

"Dress a turnip in a ball gown and it'll still beg to be mashed." Said Coriolanus, playing into their pompous ways. You knew he didn't agree, not really.

"Don't do that we all know you like him." Arachne spat with her spider like venom, raising her eyebrows at Coriolanus.

"I don't like him Arachne, I tolerate him. He's district." Said Coriolanus and he seemed pleased with his answer as you felt him relax under your touch. You however did like Sejanus and weren't afraid to show it.

"If I hear one more time how immoral these Hunger Games are I'll put him in the arena mys- Sejanus. You made it to the Reaping for once." Festus cut himself off, caught by Sejanus himself.

"And you made it to graduation Festus, we're both shocked." Sejanus replied and you couldn't help but snicker, hiding it as you realised no one else shared the same reaction. "Y/N, always a pleasure." He smiled at you politely. You couldn't help but note the way Coryo's jaw clenched, neck twitching as he looked at you to gaze your reaction.

"As are you Sejanus." You nodded. Arachne scoffed quickly mentioning the only thing she really cared about, the prize.

"Spill it, who won the prize." She asked.

"Well, no I'm not gonna ruin my father's big day. No one here actually likes him, but they do love his money." He once again hit back at the group around him, you felt sorry for the boy. Alone in a room full of people. "You know what that's like don't you Arachne?" He dug the hole deeper and you internally smirked, grateful someone was brave enough to stand up to a powerful woman like Arachne.

As the Captiol's anthem began to play you made your way to your seats, sat next to Coriolanus you placed a kiss on his cheek and whispered 'good luck' in his ear, though you didn't really think he needed it.

Doctor Gaul's chuckle resounded around the room in a menacing echo that always managed to make you shrink into your seat.

She commended you all for being star students before untroducing the creator of the games: Casca Highbottom.

He went on to tell you all that today was not the day the prize would be given out but instead there would be one more task to challenge you all and gage your true worth. Everyone seemed confused but not Sejanus.

"What's going on?" You whispered to Coriolanus. He sensed your anxiety placing a calming hand on your knee but gave you no other response which reassured you that you had not been left completely in the dark.

"The Plinth prize will no longer be determined by who was the best grades. But by who is the best mentor in the Hunger Games." With that there was outrage, to you it was dehumanizing for the tributes, 'mentored' by people their own age but for the others they only seemed to care whether they were given someone strong or weak. A 'runt' in Arachne's words.

The reaping commenced and you couldn't help but wish to be anywhere but here. You didn't want to do this, you didn't need the money yet you were forced to have another's life in your hands.

You got a small girl from 8 named Wovey, seeing her face on the big screen left you determined, determined to help her in anyway you could on the path to being a victor. Even if that meant Coryo may lose the prize.

Snow's tribute left the room in horror, her stage presence and brutality sent shivers down your spine, though you supposed that the outer Districts had it harder and that sort of survival must be built into her.

Standing up on shaky legs you grabbed Coriolanus up from his chair and outside of the room, you needed fresh air and you needed to talk to him about what you were about to face, arguably harder than any other test the Capitol could give you.

"Slow down Y/N, I can hardly keep up." He said, words laced with worry.

"I don't believe I can do this Coryo, did you see my tribute? She's hardly eligible for school never mind to be put into an arena where she's going to be killed. She's only a child." You paced while he leant against a pillar, beginning to eat some food he a had smuggled from the buffet table.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice Y/N." He tried to help but only made it worse as you realised you were trapped in yet another one of the Capitol's games. He seemingly realised this. "Hey, hey. If there as anyone in that room who would get that tribute, I'm glad it was you. Arachne would've given up on her by now. With you she has a fighter. A chance at surviving." He said while grabbing your wrists to stop your pacing.

"It's not that simple Coryo-" You tried but he cut you off.

"It is Y/N." He said sternly and you understood what he meant. It was either play into their games or become apart of them, no other choice. "You're a born winner Y/N, give her some of it hm?" He stared down at you as he spoke and his blue eyes while at times piercing sucked you in, heart rate lowering almost immediatley.

"Okay." You said.

"Okay." He smiled, reaching a hand around your neck to bring you into a kiss. It started off slow and caring though quickly intensified as he turned you both around so now you leant against the pillar instead of him.

His hand tightened around your neck, not enough to actually cut off air but just enough to make you feel dizzy as he pushed his body further into yours, keeping you against the cold cement and trapped in his arms.

Your mouths clashed together intensely, tongues colliding in a rhythm you though you would only ever be able to find with him in this lifetime. He was your everything, your light in a blizzard.

"Ahem." Coughed Casca, drawing the two of you away from each other with baited breaths and rosy cheeks. "Just like your father, yes we were best friends. Once." He said, and with that it felt like you weren't even in the room.

"Tell me Mr Snow, what are your plans after these games?" Casca asked.

"I hope to go onto the university sir, naturally." Coriolanus answered, pulling his waistcoat straight where it had been wrinkled by your tight grip.

"And if you fail to win the Plinth Prize, what then?" Asked Casca, it suddenly became clear to you that he knew something, just what he knew you were unsure of.

"We'd pay the tuition of course." He scoffed, insulted at Casca's insinuation even if it was true.

"Look at you, in your makeshift shirt and too tight shoes. Trying desperately to fit in when I know the Snow's don't have a pot to piss in." Casca said. You felt your own heart drop and so you couldn't imagine how Coriolanus felt, the insult to his pride was one you knew he wouldn't take well and so you grabbed his hand subtly, hiding it behind your back as to not show any sign of weakness to Casca.

"Goodluck with that poor little Songbird." He said, and with that he left. Leaving you to do damage control.

"Ignore him Coryo, he's trying to get into your head." You reassured him, moving a Snow white hair from his face. His jaw looked similar to the way it did earlier when Sejanus had so much as acknowledged your presence.

"He's right Y/N. From the moment my father died I lost. The odds were never in my favour." He spat out, though his actions didn't match his words as he gently removed your hand from his hair before beginning his exit of the Academy. "Come on now Y/N, I've got a songbird to catch." He said sarcastically.

You sped after him hoping Casca's words hadn't knocked him too much, after all, Snow lands on top and he wouldn't be the one to change that.

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am, @riordanness, @suvgs, @charmed-asylum

[takeariskao3]

as per usual, i am late to the memegeddon… but here is a lil something based on this meme from @petalsthefish

James stabbed the last carrot on his plate with a bit more violence than the action called for. However, it had no effect on the conversation happening a few seats down at the Gryffindor table.

“I s’pose the library?” Albert Jenkins-Wright prattled on. “Where do girls like her even hang out?”

Across from James, Sirius snorted.

“And she’s never on her own,” one of Jenkins-Wright’s sixth year mates chimed in. “It’ll be like asking her out in front of her whole dormitory.”

The small group of boys all made equal, yet indiscernible, noises of agreement and glanced around to where the fifth year girls had their heads together. James couldn’t help it, he peeked up as well. The girls in his year were all giggling in hushed tones over their pudding. As he watched, the object of their infernal conversation threw her head back and laughed in full merriment. James’ insides twisted painfully and he refocused on his empty plate.

“Valentine’s Day though,” another of the boys chimed in. “That’s a lot of pressure for a first date, isn’t it?”

James had heard quite enough. He shoved back on his bench and snapped, “She has to say yes first.”

Albert Jenkins-Wright glowered at him. Thankfully, Sirius also stood from his seat, albeit less petulantly, and smirked. “Good luck with that.”

Peter and Remus followed, Remus shoveling his last few bites of potatoes into his mouth. A small slice of guilt broke through James’ foul mood, but he stalked away nonetheless.

“I thought you were attempting indifference?” Peter hissed as they reached the entrance hall.

Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Remus grin. “Yes, I distinctly remember that New Year’s resolution too.”

“Let’s be honest,” Sirius sighed, clapping James on the shoulder. “We all knew it was doomed.”

“Jenkins-Wright is a prat,” James said without any real bite behind it.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Every bloke who likes Evans is a prat.“

“Including you,” Sirius added.

Remus covered a laugh with a cough; Peter sniggered.

As they mounted the marble staircase, James ground his teeth together, determined not to be a prat.

He made it as far as the second floor.

“What kind of name is Jenkins-Wright, anyhow?”

His three friends groaned.

Ten minutes, two floors, and a password later, they found armchairs tucked into a corner of the common room. James had exhausted his complaints about Albert Jenkins-Wrights’s name and had now moved on to his intelligence.

“Like she’d ever go out with a bloke who couldn’t even scrape an E in Charms.” James insisted.

“Do shut up,” Sirius grumbled, settling deeper into the cushions.

James scowled, and had just opened his mouth to release a very un-witty retort when an eruption of giggles tumbled through the portrait hole.

“The tea leaves don’t lie!” Anna Perry cackled while looping her arm through Evans’.

Green eyes flashed and Evans shot her friend a flat look. “Your only proof is a lump of soggy Earl Grey and something about Saturn’s anus–“

“Janus,” Anna Perry stressed. “It’s the moon of discernment, and its current alignment with Venus makes tonight the perfect conditions for predicting–“

As the girls walked by their cluster of chairs, James couldn’t help himself. “What’s this about Saturn’s anus?”

“Never you mind,” Evans spat. At the same time, Anna burst, “I’ve just read her teacup. And it’s fascinating–“

“Hardly.” Evans rounded on her friend. “You think my soulmate is at Hogwarts.”

James’ heart lept into his throat.

“Well, obviously,” Anna huffed, clearly exasperated. “It showed they were near! Could be proximity, could be timing, it could be the next person who asks you out!”

Evans looked increasingly unimpressed.

James, however, suffered a temporary bout of insanity. “Hey, Evans? Go out with me?”

“No,” she replied smoothly, without so much as looking at him.

The rejection was expected, and only made James grin wider.

“See?” Evans gestured to where James leaned over the back of his chair. “By your logic, Potter is my one true love. Some prediction that was.”

Anna’s shoulders slumped. “Fine, don’t believe me. But I know what I saw.”

Evans rolled her eyes and yanked Anna toward the rest of the girls, who had settled at a long table and were pulling out homework.

Watching them go, James sunk back into his seat, unable to control the self-satisfied smirk stretching across his face.

He was met with three expressions of equal disapproval.

“What?” he asked with an air of false innocence. “I wasn’t about to let her fall madly in love with Albert Jenkins-Wright.” When none of his friends showed signs of going along with this farce, James continued, “Apathy is overrated, anyway. Whatever happened to going after what you want, huh? Where are the proper grand gestures? Men used to duel for the hand of a lady, you know…”

Silence hung between the four of them for several long moments before Sirius lounged back into his seat and rumbled, “You��re a nuisance to society.”

[dira333]

The World’s most (un)serious Game of Chicken - Hanamaki x Reader

Hanamaki has never been serious a day in his life. Lots of crack and luff and Seijoh Golden Four.

Warning: Over 6k words. My hand slipped.

Kindergarten - 5 years old

Yasuda, known for her large forehead and rich parents, points her finger at her newest enemy. 

“Hanamaki is ugly,” she declares. “No one can touch him or they are ugly too!”

You’re pretty sure she’s just envious of the fact that his mother gave him a Squishmallow to bring along, and it’s a rare one too.

The other kids draw away. Hanamaki’s looking a little confused, but he’s not crying. You’re pretty sure you’d cry. 

Yasuda grins. It’s an ugly thing, that grin, and it makes you want to punch her in the face. But then you’d get sent in time-out again.

Besides, your mother told you to “kill them with kindness” this morning, whatever that means.

Before you can rethink your strategy, you take a step forward. 

Yasuda’s eyes widen at your challenge.

But it’s too late. You’re throwing yourself at Hanamaki who’s luckily catching you. He smells like bubblegum.

“Now I’m ugly too!” You declare before turning around with fire in your veins, your determined eyes catching Yasuda’s. You can see the fear in them.

“Run!”

-

“Hey,” Hanamaki waits outside, Squishmallow in his hands.

“Hey,” you say, wiping the snot from your nose and into your skirt. You hate that you cry all the time, especially in front of the teacher who just scolded you. It’s not your fault Yasuda tripped when you ran after her.

“Thank you,” he says, voice earnest, “For that. You know.”

You sniff and shrug at the same time. “It’s nothing. I don’t like Yasuda. She’s nasty.”

He grins wide, revealing a missing tooth.

“Me too.” He offers the Squishmallow to you. “Friends?”

“You can’t buy me,” you tell him, the sentence grown-up and unfamiliar in your mouth. You heard it last week on Mom’s TV show. But you take the Squishmallow anyway. “Thanks.”

“Takahiro,” a breathless voice calls out. You both turn to his mother rushing down the street. She stops, catches her breath, and smiles down at you.

“Aww, did you give her your Squishmallow? Is she your friend?”

The two of you share a look. Kindergarten is hell already, you can’t have rumors like that going around.

“Nah!” You declare loudly, “Boys are nasty. This is blackmail.”

And before she can say anything, you rush back inside, determined to hide until they’re both gone.

-

Elementary school - 6 years old

The boy is tall, with dark curls hiding his tired-looking eyes.

“Yes?” You ask, annoyed that he’s blocking the sunlight streaming in.

“This is Hanamaki’s place.”

“So?” You push the lollipop in your mouth to the other side. “What’s it to you?”

“Hanamaki said I could sit with him at lunch.”

You sniff, clearly unimpressed.

And as if he’d heard it, Hanamaki appears in the doorway.

“Matsukawa, you made it.” He grins, clapping a hand on the boy’s shoulder as he slides into his seat. “What’d you get for lunch?” Hanamaki asks you without skipping a beat, already lifting the lid of your Bento Box. “Sausages, nice. Do you want to switch? I’ve got egg rolls.”

“Is this your friend?” Matsukawa asks, obvious interest sneaking into his voice.

Hanamki snorts. “No? She’s my mortal enemy.”

“Yeah,” you agree immediately. “Watch out for the rice. It’s laced with cy-cy-”

“Cyanide,” Matsukawa offers, pulling a chair closer. “I want the rice then. I’m offering tomatoes.”

- 

Elementary school - 9 years old

“So, what did Yamagata want?” Hanamaki asks when you join them.

“He asked me out on a date.” You pick a tomato from Matsukawa’s Bento and chew on it as if you don’t care about it at all.

Hanamaki’s eyes are wide and round as he takes you in, his mouth open yet he seems to be speechless. Which is a first.

“You okay?” Matsukawa asks and for a second you’re not sure who he’s taking to, you or Hanamaki. 

“That means you’re grown up,” Hanamaki whispers finally. “Like, a grown-up grown-up. Did you say yes?”

“No?” You ask back. “Yamagata is disgusting. He eats his snot.”

“You do that too,” Matsukawa points out.

“I stopped last year,” you point out, chopsticks raised for emphasis. “But if you think Yamagata is such a catch, you can date him if you want, huh?”

“No thank you,” Matsukawa waves his hands, “I’m waiting for Yoshida-chan.”

Yoshida-chan, your very lovely though also very old teacher, lifts her head from where she’d been reading at the desk and smiles in your direction, clearly not clued in on the joke.

You all smile and wave back, snickering quietly when she turns back to her book.

“But if you want to date,” Matsukawa points out, an eggroll perfectly placed between his chopsticks as he points, “You two can just date each other.”

“Yuck!” You both spit out at the same time and Matsukawa rolls his eyes.

-

Elementary school - 12 years old

You’re not the only girl waiting outside the gym. 

Both Hanamaki and Matsukawa have started playing Volleyball and you’re seriously considering taking it up next year as well. They make you train with them anyway in their free time and it sucks to either have to wait for them or go home alone. Baseball is only half as fun without them there.

“You think he’s going to say yes?” One of the girls in a group near you asks her friends. She’s pretty and you think she might be from one of the top classes. 

“Of Course! Hanamaki would be dumb to say no.”

You turn a little at the mention of his name but it’s too late to do anything about it anyway when the doors open and the boys step out. 

“Hanamaki, hi!” Pretty Girl all but dances over to where he’s walking toward you, stopping him in his tracks.

Matsukawa immediately realizes what’s about to go down, you can tell by the face he makes, but he doesn’t walk off, just stands there, stiff as a board, looming over Pretty Girl’s face.

“Uh, could you… walk away?” She asks and you hide your snicker behind your hand. 

“Why?”

“Because… I was… uh… going to ask… Hanamaki… something?”

“So?”

“Hanamaki?” She’s determined, you have to admit that, turning back to him, “Could we talk in private for a second?”

To your surprise, both of the boys turn to where you’re waiting, looking at you as if waiting for a clue. It’s annoying as hell.

“What?” You ask, pointedly raising your hand to check your nails as if there’s anything to check but the dirt hiding under them. “I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

-

Matsukawa waits next to you, quiet like a stone. 

You want to know what she’s saying. Not that you don’t know what she’s saying, but you want to know what words she’s using. Hanamaki still can’t help but snicker every time someone mentions the L-Word like a little kid.

You don’t have to wait long.

Her face tells you everything you need to know as she slips into the group of her friends. 

Hanamaki looks like nothing happened at all and you turn to leave with him, satisfied in a way you can’t properly explain.

“Is she-” A voice raises as you move and the three of you turn back again. It’s not Pretty Girl but one of her equally pretty friends. “Is she your girlfriend?” She nods in your direction.

You pull a face before Hanamaki can react.

“Ew. I’m his cousin.”

-

Matsukawa lives one street down from Hanamaki and you live one street further down, right at the river.

Today, he doesn’t stop at his place like he usually does, kicking a pebble down the street as if to tell you to keep walking.

“What did she say?” You ask eventually when the silence gets too loud.

“She told me I’m pretty.”

You snort. 

“What?” He asks, laughter audible in his voice. “I’m pretty.”

“In your dreams,” you tell him and he’s full-on laughing now, both of you howling out a “He’s ugly!” as if Yasuda’s torment happened days ago instead of years.

Eventually, he kicks the pebble over to you to keep going and you follow suit, still snickering.

“I’d never have said yes,” he tells you, halfway caught between a snicker and something else, “Her lips looked like she put glitter glue on.”

“That’s lipgloss,” you explain, “It probably tastes like fruit.”

“I like fruit,” he says earnestly. “Do you have lipgloss like that?”

“No,” you lie and you don’t know why but your heart beats fast like a humminbird.

“Shame,” he sighs and you’re not sure if he means it. “Tell me when that changes.”

-

Junior High - 13 years old

“Your name’s going to be Makki,” Oikawa declares with the air of someone who rarely gets told off. “And your name’s going to be Mattsun.” 

You push your lollipop to the side and narrow your eyes at him.

“Why?”

“Because it sounds cooler.”

“Shittykawa,” you offer, “Sounds way cooler.”

Iwaizumi next to him snickers and Oikawa turns to him with a pout. 

“Iwa-chan!” He whines. 

“Iwa-chan!” You repeat after him, expertly copying his whiny tone. Everyone laughs.

“You’re friends?” Oikawa asks just minutes later, still pondering on what nickname to give you. He points at you, then Mattsun, then Makki.

You roll your eyes.

“Mortal enemies,” you declare. “We’re bound until we kill each other. This is just our latest reanimation.”

“Oh, cool, like in that anime?” Oikawa asks immediately, eyes glowing.

You snort. Hanamaki leans over you, pushing your head into his sweaty armpit. You fight to get him off. Mattsun changes the topic.

-

“Hey,” Iwaizumi asks right as you part after class, “Do you want to become a manager?” 

You blink, surprised that he asked you. He’s pretty shy around girls even if you don’t act like one most of the time. 

“Didn’t think about that,” you tell him honestly, “I was going to try out for the girl's team first.”

“Oh, sure.” He starts to stutter, turning away. “Good luck.”

Makki looks after him, mouthing an exaggerated “Good luck” your way. 

You roll your eyes.

-

“Do you think I should become a manager?” You ask as soon as Mattsun is out of sight.

Makki kicks a pebble over to you and you kick it back.

“I dunno, we didn’t have a manager in Elementary School,” he remembers. “Isn’t that job kinda boring?”

“Sure, but we could be in the same team, kinda.”

He nods slowly. Then, he grins. “You would have to wipe away my sweat.”

“Ugh, no!” You whine. “Gross!”

“Fetch me my water bottle, manager-chan!” He orders in the most conceited voice he can muster. “Hush hush, we have a game to win.”

“You’re impossible,” you tell him, pushing him off when he leans into you with all his weight. “You can get your own water bottles, loser.”

It’s only when his door comes into sight that he sobers up again, turning back to you.

“What do you think of Oikawa and Iwaizumi?” Makki asks, voice suddenly serious. It’s the first time he’s ever asked you something like that. You doubt he would have cared if you didn’t like Mattsun back then. Or would he?

“They’re okay,” you declare. “Oikawa is a little conceited if you ask me, but I guess Iwaizumi keeps him in check. Iwaizumi could be cool if we get him a little out of his shell, maybe? He’s so serious.”

Makki nods slowly. 

“And lookwise?”

You furrow your brows. “Don’t ask me something like that, you know I don’t have any taste. We’ll see if the girls like them when it’s time, right? They liked you too and you look horrendous.”

“He’s ugly,” he crows softly and you roll your eyes, try to trip him and fail spectacularly.

-

Junior High - 14 years old

“I don’t want to be the referee again,” you declare pointedly when you join the boys at the riverbank, golden sunlight streaming over the area that has probably seen more Volleyball training sessions than your school gym. But who’s counting?

“Fine,” Oikawa huffs, yet again the one who decides everything. You roll your eyes behind his back. “You can be libero.”

“Oh yes, I’m saving your asses. Again.” You drawl out, smacking Makki’s butt as you pass by. He wiggles it again for good measure and Iwaizumi’s face turns red.

-

Half an hour later a group of boys joins you at the riverbank. You don’t know their faces, but Oikawa greets them eagerly. Not like friends, but friendly acquaintances.

“Who’s girlfriend is that?” One of them asks, pointing at you. 

You scowl, but Makki’s faster than you.

“This, my esteemed gentleman, is my bodyguard,” he declares loudly. “It’s her job to keep me from getting killed, which is rather unfortunate.”

“Most of his death threats come from her,” Mattsun adds dryly. “Watch out, she bites.”

-

“Hey,” Makki’s leaning against the doorway of your bedroom, staring out your window at the riverbank below. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you groan into your pillow, wishing he’d leave. It’s one thing getting your period in a friendly mixed match. It’s another thing if you bleed through your pants so spectacularly one of the boys on the other team has to puke at the sight.

“You can leave,” you tell him when he’s still not moving minutes later.

But when you hear his footsteps, they come closer. Before you can look up and glare at him, he drops, his body almost crushing yours.

You yelp, but he’s too heavy, too much arms and legs and everything else and trying to fight him off turns into a tickle-fight instead. He begs for mercy minutes later, claiming he’ll pee on your bed if you don’t set him free.

“You suck,” you tell him as you stretch out next to him, looking up at the ceiling of your bedroom, all the glow-in-the-dark stars that you claim you will take down soon.

“You suck more,” he answers softly, falling silent for a while. It’s comfortable, being like this, just Makki and you, and no one else to judge it.

“You wanna go back out and kick their asses?” Makki asks eventually and you nod, slipping off your bed before he can push you off.

-

Junior High - 15 years old

“Interesting,” Mattsun watches Oikawa’s fanclub with the most bored look on his face, “Collective loss of good judgment. That’s rare.”

“Ah, there are still some good ones left,” you tell him, “Ishikawa from my Volleyball Club has a crush on you, by the way.”

“Oh?” Mattsun asks, turning. “Which one?”

“First year, pinch server, the one with the pixie cut.”

He ponders that for a moment before he shakes his head. “I don’t like short hair on girls.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re superficial.”

“What do you like?” Mattsun asks, a weird kind of grin on his face. And you know all his grins by now, or so you thought. “In boys, I mean?”

You furrow your brows. “How would I know? There’s no boy I like.”

Mattsun scoffs disbelievingly.

“What?” You ask, hackles rising.

A warm arm slings itself around your hips and a head lands heavy on your shoulder. 

“What are you talking about?” Makki asks, smacking his bubblegum into your ear.

“What kind of boys she’s into,” Mattsun points out. 

“Oh, I wanna hear that,” Oikawa fights himself free from his groupies and shuffles over, pulling Iwaizumi with him. “Because I have a feeling they have to be tall, good looking and into Volleyball.”

You roll your eyes, unsure if the heartbeat you feel in your chest is your own or Makki’s from how closely he’s pressed against you. It’s annoying, and you hate annoying things.

“Actually,” you tell them as pointedly as you can, “I like them small. Tiny, even. Really ugly too, because that adds character. It’s best if they’re practically disfigured.”

“But they have to be into Volleyball?” Iwaizumi asks, a small smile dancing over his lips. 

You shrug, almost managing to push Makki’s head off your shoulders. 

“Hobbies are Hobbies. He could be into knitting for all I care.”

“Ah well, that’s good to know,” Makki sings, “Because I saw a guy exactly like that. I could set you guys up.”

“You would do that?” You mock gasp, pressing your hands against your chest. “For your mortal enemy?”

“Anything for you,” he declares, pressing a fake tear from his eyes while the rest of the group turns away, no longer interested.

-

“By the way,” Makki tells you as he follows you down the road, Mattsun’s house growing smaller and smaller behind you, “Itoh-chan asked me out today.”

“Oh?” You look over. “When did that happen?”

“Ah, while you and Mattsun were discussing what kind of boys you like,” he grins cheekily.

“You mean while I was telling him that Ishikawa has a crush on him?”

“She does? What a shame, she’d really be his type if she had longer hair.”

“What do you guys have with hair?” You ask, a little exasperated. You don’t really expect him to pull on yours, but you’re not surprised when he does it either.

Makki stops in front of his house but he’s not going inside and you’re not leaving either.

“Don’t you wanna know what I told her?” He asks and his voice dares you to say yes.

“Not really. I’m gonna find out eventually.”

“I said no,” he shrugs, “Because she was talking about kissing me and I didn’t want to have my first kiss with someone who chews bubblegum like a horse.”

You roll your eyes.

“You’re superficial.”

“Maybe.”

Silence.

“Do you wanna practice?” You ask.

He looks at you, no sign of a joke in his eyes when he speaks.

“With or without lipgloss?” You realize that he knew what you meant when you asked, just like he’s always known what you thought before you said it out loud.

“What do you think?” You ask, moving one leg first and then the other. He falls into step next to you.

“What flavors are you offering?”

“Uh, I have one that’s supposed to be cherry flavored, but it tastes more like bubblegum.”

“I like bubblegum.”

“I know.”

His lips are dry and a little chapped, his hands clammy as they hold yours.

Kissing isn’t all that it’s made out to be, you decide unanimously a few minutes later and head down to the riverbank with a Volleyball instead.

-

High school - 16 years old

“Hey, we’re staying behind after training,” Makki tells you in between Classes, “Oikawa has this idea he wants to try out. Are you coming over to watch?”

“Sure,” you tell him, “Can’t have you walk home alone. You’d end up in Tokyo or something worse in the end.”

“What would I do without you?” He asks, exaggerating his theatrics as he dips back out of the classroom.

“Boyfriend?” The girl next to you asks curiously.

“Mortal enemy,” you declare and she furrows her brows and falls silent.

-

“Hey, we have training today,” you pull a lollipop from your jacket and pop it into your mouth, pulling a second one out when Mattsun stretches out his hand, asking wordlessly for one.

“Are you waiting for me?”

“What time are you going to be out?” Makki asks only half-listening as he copies Mattsun’s notes from the lesson. History is his weakest subject.

You calculate and name it and he nods.

“Yeah, sure, we can stay in the library until then and do our homework, right?” He turns to Mattsun who rolls his eyes.

“You don’t have to wait around if you don’t want to,” you tell him and Mattsun’s eyes roll even harder. 

You can’t help but snicker at it, knocking one last time against Makki’s desk when the bell rings, calling you back to your own Class.

“Alright, see you later guys.”

“Girlfriend?” One of the guys to their left asks, leaning over. “She’s pretty.”

“Mortal enemy,” Makki declares proudly, finally looking up from his notes. “I’d be careful. She bites.”

-

“No, no, this goes here,” you pull his hand from the paper before he can put the wrong number in yet again. “We’re not talking about the Edo period yet!”

“How do I know?” Makki grumbles, kicking his feet in the air behind him. “This shit sucks.”

“You wanna do something else?” You ask, not in the least bit minding a break. “Mattsun’s not coming over for another hour.”

“If ever,” Makki mumbles lowly and you look to the side just in time to watch insecurity flash over his face.

“You think he’s going to ditch you for a girlfriend?”

“Isn’t that how it always goes?” He asks, writing the wrong date in the space in front of him. You don’t care to correct him.

“We wouldn’t be like that,” you point out, not quite sure in what way you mean it.

“No,” he agrees easily. “We wouldn’t.”

“Mattsun’s not like that,” you assure him, putting your hand over his. “Shittykawa maybe, but not Mattsun.”

He stills for a second, eyes flickering over to yours. You can tell that he’s thinking about something, but you’re not yet sure what it is.

“Wanna try again?” He asks, voice low and quiet, his eyes flickering to your lips.

Not much history is studied that afternoon.

-

High school - 17 years old

It’s one of those rare days when you’re not coming home with Makki and Mattsun, dragging your tired body from the train station down the road.

You’ve cried more than enough already, yet your tears water again when Makki’s house comes into sight.

If only you hadn’t dropped that ball at that moment, had been a little faster that one time…

You know your mom’s waiting at home, food not quite ready yet, waiting to hear about the game.

But you can’t… you can’t…

The key is where it always is, hidden beneath the little wooden Tanuki at the front door.

The way up the stairs is so familiar you could do it in your sleep.

You slip into his bed and pull the covers over your head, smelling bubblegum and deodorant and a faint hint of sweat. It smells like Makki and you close your eyes, wishing you could shut out the tears just as easily as the light.

“Hey…” a warm hand on your shoulder wakes you. “You okay?”

You shake your head and he nods, slipping into bed with you. 

“Do you want to continue Volleyball after High School?” Makki asks, arms slung around you. He’s like a monkey like that and you often wonder how he sleeps during training weeks. Does he sling himself around Mattsun or a pillow, does he dream of you or not?

“Not really, you?”

“Mhm, no. Winning is fun, but all that training would suck ass…”

You agree quietly, just a little noise in the back of your throat.

“So if you’re not going to continue playing anyway, it’s not that big of a deal, right?” He asks, “Just another blip in your life.”

“It’s not just another blip.”

“Remember how you bled so much you made a random guy puke?”

“Makki!” You howl, even louder when he bites into your shoulder.

But the pain soon subsides, turns into laughter that you can’t hold back.

“His face,” you remember, “He looked like he was going to pass out.”

“He’s ugly,” Makki howls and you press his hand, understanding finally why he keeps bringing up that joke.

Sometimes it’s best to laugh at your demons. They might not get smaller that way, but at least you have something to laugh at.

-

High school - 18 years

“Hanamaki-kun, I wanted to ask for your second button, oh…” The bright-eyed first-year stops in her tracks. The button is already missing.

She blushes a scarlet red, stuttering as she excuses herself.

“I don’t believe you,” Mattsun huffs, “You didn’t just wake up today, missing that button.”

“But I did,” Makki claims, “I swear, I’d never lie to you.”

“You always lie to me.”

“Name one time I lied to you.”

“When you told me your natural hair color was purple but it faded out over the summer.”

“Well, that’s on you, Mattsun. I can’t help you if you believe that of all things.”

“What did he believe this time?” You ask, walking over.

“Purple hair,” Makki points at his head. You scoff at Mattsun.

“I was six years old, okay?” He defends himself. “By the way, did you notice that Makki’s button is missing?” He points and you look. 

“Nice,” you high-five Makki, “Who did you give it to.”

“I didn’t. Lost it at night. Some nightmare gremlin must have cut it off.”

“For real? Probably your mother who wants to curse you to stay home forever.”

“No, Mummy wouldn’t do such a thing.” He leans into you, trying to make you sway under his weight. It hasn’t worked in years but he keeps trying.

“How many buttons did you get?” Mattsun asks. “I saw Yamagata confessing to you in the hallway earlier.”

You pull a face.

“I don’t care if he’s no longer eating his snot, I’m not accepting a confession from him.”

“Why’s that?” Mattsun’s voice is saccharine sweet now and you narrow your eyes at him. You know what he wants to hear, but you’ve always been one to deny the things others want from you. Makki’s weight on you isn’t helping.

“If I say I don’t like someone, I’m not changing my mind on that.” You declare. Makki’s snickering above you, probably because he’s close to finally making you sway. You bite his bicep but he’s not moving away. 

Mattsun rolls his eyes so hard it looks like he’s passing out.

-

College - 20 years

Your legs are flung over Makki’s and you’re so close to beating him when the door opens.

“Suck on that!” You yell as you swerve over the finish line, hitting his shoulder with your fist.

“Gladly,” he jokes, already choosing the next road as you look up.

“Oh, hi!” You wave at the guy standing in the doorway. “Are you looking for Mattsun? He’s in his room.”

“He said there’s a party going on tonight?” The guy asks. You try to place him, but your brain is failing you. He doesn’t look like he went to Seijoh, but Makki’s always been better at remembering faces. 

“Yeah, for sure.” Makki declares. “Just a little later. You’re early. You can get yourself something to drink from the kitchen.”

“Cool.” He nods, walking over. He’s back in minutes, leaning over the backrest to watch, sipping whatever concoction he’s poured himself. “You two a thing?”

You don’t look up, too focused on beating Makki. You hate the rainbow road.

“Roommates,” Makki explains, his leg twitching under yours.

“Mortal enemies,” you declare, sticking out your tongue as you drift and push Makki off the road.

“Cool.” Couch-Guy leans in even further. “I’m Terushima by the way.”

-

Terushima finds you in the kitchen hours later. His eyes are glassy as he smiles at you and you wonder how many drinks he’s had.

You wouldn’t call yourself sober either, but you’d been so obsessed with beating Makki that you’re way behind on the others, 

“What do you think?” Terushima flutters his eyelashes at you. “You and me? I could show you a good time.”

You swallow down a snort. He looks like he’s barely able to stand.

“Tell you what.” You point at your room down the hall. “Go lie down, I’m gonna be with you in a minute.”

“Awesome.”

You watch him stumble down the hall, how the door closes after him with a click. Seconds later Makki is leaning into you. He smells like bubblegum and the most disgusting brand of Tequila you’ve ever tasted.

“What are you doing?” He asks, snagging one side of the sandwich you’d been preparing. 

“I sent the baby to bed.”

He snorts and you can feel his chin graze our shoulder as he peers over into the living room.

You steal a quick glance yourself. Some girl is trying her best in flirting with Mattsun who’s deep in an explanation about something that probably no one’s interested in.

The others are either drinking, singing, or snoring on the Couch and the floor.

Makki’s lips ghost over your bare shoulder.

“You’re sleeping in my room?” He asks, voice quiet as if anyone but you could hear him.

“Where else? My bed is already occupied.”

He pinches your hip, but he doesn’t move away, leaning heavy and warm against your back. You can feel his heartbeat like that, sluggish and slow and so well-known your heart beats in sync.

-

Work - 22 years

You’re sitting on Makki’s lap, or rather, in between his legs, playing on your phone as you wait for your stop.

There’s an older woman across from you who’s giving you the stink eye, but you don’t really care. It’s late, you’re both tired, and she can suck it.

“What do you want for dinner?” Makki asks, his head resting on top of yours.

“Rice.”

“We had rice yesterday.”

“Ramen?”

“Ugh.”

“You don’t have to cook if you don’t want to.”

He falls quiet.

You let him, knowing damn well that he’s going to say it when he’s ready for it.

He pulls you up at your stop, links his hand with yours as you walk out.

It’s so not him, you’re almost worried. At least until he stops right at the corner, pulling a coin out of his pocket.

There’s a gumball machine there, one that sells cheap jewelry next to the cheap sweats.

He puts the coin in, twists and pulls a little ball out, presenting it to you.

“You shouldn’t have,” you tease, pulling the ball apart. It’s a ring, the metal bendable to fit every size. The design is even worse, a gaudy heart, but you don’t care, pull his hand up and slip it on his finger.

“Will you marry me?” You whisper as dramatically as you can and something flickers over his face, gone and away before you can catch it. He laughs, softly, and leans forward to kiss your temple.

“Oh, aren’t you a sweet couple?”

You turn, surprised to see an older lady standing behind you, squinting up at you in the fading daylight.

“Actually,” Makki starts. You can’t help but finish.

“We’re siblings.” You tell her. “Separated at birth. We just found out.”

Her eyes widen.

“What lovely news!” She chokes out, clearly confused.

You nod and bow and move away, pulling Makki with you as you rush down the stairs, suddenly no longer tired.

-

“They cut my hours,” he tells you later. 

You’re stretched out on his bed, trying to convince yourself to get up again and do his workout routine with him. But the bed is comfy and you’re tired.

“How much?” You ask.

“Might not be able to pay rent this month.”

“I’ll cover it,” you offer. His mouth pulls into a thin line.

“Seriously,” you pull yourself up until you’re sitting. “I’ll cover it. You pay for my food all the time anyway. I could move in here with you and we open up my room for someone else. It’s no big deal.”

He still looks… unsure. Insecure. Like he’s not sure what to say or what to feel.

“I’m your bodyguard,” you remind him, “Remember? How am I supposed to protect you when you sleep in a different room anyway?”

-

Mattsun looks like he wants to say something. Scratch that. He looks like he wants to say a lot.

“Another roommate?” He asks. 

“Yeah.” You nod. “You know, it makes sense, I should have thought about it sooner. As his bodyguard-”

“Mortal enemy.”

“And mortal enemy, thank you, Makki,” you pat his hand like one would do with a child. “It’s my job to protect him. I have neglected that for far too long. I’m moving into his room. Going to keep an eye on him at all times.”

Mattsun sighs.

“You can’t just say it? That you’re a couple?”

Makki gasps. You fake gag.

“We’re like siblings, Mattsun!” Makki claims. “Please keep your incestuous tendencies to yourself.”

“Ship someone else, will you?” You ask and he groans, pinches his nose, and shakes his head.

“Whatever. I’m not… You’re going to be the death of me. You can go and find us a third roommate for all I care… By the way, Makki, are we still on for Friday?”

-

Work - 24 years

“I think Ishikawa still has a crush on him,” you whisper into Makki’s ear. You have no interest whatsoever in the movie playing and neither does he, if the hand rubbing messages into your thigh is any indication.

“She still has that pixie cut,” he reminds you.

“Yeah, but it suits her now.” You point out and he shakes his head from side to side as if he’s thinking about it.

“Could you guys stop talking?” Mattsun growls from where he’s sitting. Ishikawa is sitting close enough that her hair must be tickling his nose. If only he’d put his arm around her.

“Excuse me, but we’re having a serious discussion,” Makki claims, picking a piece of popcorn and throwing it in the air. “Catch.” 

It misses your mouth by a mile, landing somewhere behind you on the floor. 

“Shit, again.” He picks another piece.

By the time the bowl is empty, Ishikawa and Mattsun are gone. You blink. The floor is covered in popcorn pieces and the movie has been over for quite some time if the flickering ad is telling you anything.

Makki picks up his phone from the table and squints at it.

“Mattsun took Ishikawa out for drinks.”

“Score.” You push him off the Couch. “Now come on, let’s get the vacuum.”

“Why do I have to?” He moans but gets up from the floor. “By the way, your hair looks pretty today.”

“What?” You look up from your own phone, your mind still halfway stuck in that email you just received.

“I said your hair looks shitty. What are you reading?”

“Apparently I got a promotion. Look.” You hand him your phone, pouring over the text together. 

“Wow, shit, you’re going to earn so much more money,” he says, pulling you closer with his free hand. “How do you wanna celebrate?”

“I dunno, you decide.” You blink up at him. “I could treat you to that fancy hot pot place you mentioned last time.”

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “That’s stupid. What do you wanna do?”

“Well, it’s my money and I’m your bodyguard and I need to make sure you’re well-fed. So I guess Hot Pot it is.”

“You sure about that?” He follows you down the hallway to the closet where you keep the vacuum cleaner.

“Absolutely. What else would I do with my money? Buy you a diamond ring? Wait, do you want a diamond ring?”

“Please,” he huffs, “I only take Platin, you should know my style.”

-

Work - 26 years

“Oooh, look.” Makki pulls at Mattsun’s sleeve, dragging him to the left. “What do you think?”

Mattsun blinks. In front of him, behind thick glass, is a tray full of rings. Engagement rings.

“What do I think about what?”

“The rings, doofus. You’ve been dating Ishikawa for what, two years now?”

“1 year and eight months, okay. I’m nowhere near sure I’m going to marry her.”

“Still,” Makki pulls him through the door. “It’s good to do research. Thorough research.”

Mattsun rolls his eyes, digging his elbow into his friend's shoulder and navigating him to the left. 

“Silver is less expensive.”

“Oi, since when are you a cheapskate?”

“Since gold turned expensive.”

They spend twenty minutes pouring over the options.

Mattsun has to admit, there are some pieces there that he wants to take a picture of, but he doesn’t, because it would be weird.

He watches his friend from the side, the way he takes in each ring.

It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking, if this is a joke or serious.

-

“So, when are you going to ask her?” He asks when they step outside again.

“Who?”

“You know who.”

“What am I asking?”

“If they marry you.”

“Why would I ask that?”

Mattsun groans in exasperation.

“Do you seriously find this funny? After all those years? Do you never just want to tell her that you love her or that she’s pretty or tell some weird dude that hits on her that she’s yours?”

“Oh, is that what you say to Ishikawa?” Makki asks, hands pushed into the pockets of his jacket.

“Yeah,” Mattsun says, “That’s what I tell her. Every day, if possible. Because it’s something she needs to hear. Because it’s true.”

Makki falters. He rubs the tip of his shoe over the asphalt under him, searching for a pebble to kick around.

“I don’t think she’d want to hear it. She’s not like… She’s not like Ishikawa, in that way. If she was, she’d tell me. She would have told me, you know.”

Mattsun sighs.

“Sorry. It’s your thing how you do it. If you’re both happy with it, continue being weird. It’s just hard to understand sometimes. But love you guys, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, you sap, I do.” Makki grins back at him. 

His eyes fall to the watch above them and they widen.

“Shit, I’m late for work.”

-

“Hey,” Makki’s back way too early.

“Hey,” he mumbles, slipping into the chair next to you. “When did you get home?”

“An hour ago. Got all the Argentinian stuff for the match next month. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He closes his eyes and leans back in his chair, away from you, yet his hands reach out. You take his left and press it.

“You sure?” You ask.

He nods.

Silence falls over you. It’s hard to continue typing with only your left hand, but you’re not willing to let go of his.

Eventually, he opens his eyes again.

“I got fired today.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah.”

Another beat of Silence.

“You wanna take a holiday?” You ask, closing your notebook for a moment to look at him. “We could drive to the beach for a weekend.”

“I wanted to buy you a ring.”

“Mhm,” you reach out and rub your thumb over his cheek. “Already bought me one. How many rings do you think I need?”

“How many fingers do you have?”

You wait for him to continue, but he falls silent again.

“Did you want to keep working there?” You ask. He shakes his head. “So if you didn’t want to keep working there, it’s not that big of a deal, right?” You ask, hoping he remembers a similar conversation when the roles were reversed. “Just another blip in your life.”

“It’s not just another blip.” He says and you can see some light returning to his eyes.

“Mhm,” you say, “Remember when Yasuda called you ugly in kindergarten?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles.

“I always thought you were very pretty.” He stills, his eyes flickering over your face.

“Really?”

“Really. Also, I love you.”

He grins. “I knew it. Called it when you tried to pee on me in elementary school.”

“I’m your bodyguard,” you remind him, “Your mortal enemy. Now, do you wanna go to the beach for the weekend or do you wanna stay in bed all day and play Mario Kart?”

Makki takes his sweet time to decide.

“Can we do both?” He asks eventually. “Play Mario Kart at the Beach?”

“So demanding,” you joke, leaning forward to kiss him.

-

There’s a ring packed in your things when you leave the city for the weekend. 

It’s not Platin and not silver either, bought at the gumball machine with a few coins. 

It will do for now.

“I could be your Navigator,” Makki offers as he looks up routes on his phone. “How much are you paying per hour?”

“Ah, not enough to be able to afford you,” you joke easily. “But I am looking for a housewife.”

“No way,” he gasps, eyes widening. “That’s exactly the job I was looking for. I make a fantastic sandwich.”

“Hired,” you offer him your hand. He takes it.

Tagging: @darthferbert @alienaiver @marti-mp4 @lemurzsquad @ @sachirobabe

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[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character — Unscripted Bracket — Round 2

Propaganda

Gable (Campaign: Skyjacks):

7ft tall sulver-haired thembo of a fallen angel. was the literal sword of god until they killed him! reasons slightly unclear but probably sure to forbidden queer love! super caring for their friends. has one friend they have known for hundreds of years who they HATE but are bound to by the red string of fate. their sword is a part of them, they can sheathe it into a tattoo. they start out indistinct at the edges but as they have continued on through the campaign they have become more and more distinct. they became a flaming engine of justice to kill their friends shitheaded older brother who was following him. they have learned enough necromancy to allow other fallen angels to die, even though they typically cannot. they fly giant birds in to battle.

7ft tall beefcake wielding a sword as tall as they are. vengeful sweetheart

Imagine now: a fallen angel with beautiful gray hair and very big muscles. Now imagine them with a 9 ft sword. Now imagine them as a helmsperson of a pirate ship in a flowy deep-v pirate shirt. Now imagine they're dumb as a fucking rock. And finally, imagine that they killed god. Here, you have made Gable Skyjacks: sexiest podcast character of all time.

7ft tall nonbinary/genderfluid thembo fallen angel sky pirate who wields a buster sword. silvergrey hair with black/gold streaks as they regain feathers/memories of before their fall. back is covered in tattoos that hide the scars of their shredded off wings. killed God. toxic exes with lucifer. they are the keeper of several giant war birds who occasionally crave human flesh. they enjoy getting rowdy/smoking rope with their boys. they collect rocks that they think are neat. When anyone admits they are attracted to them, Gable trips over their words and absolutely swaglessly ends up sounding stupider and sexier by the end of the conversation; the will they/won't they and teasing they dish out to these (un?)lucky few is palpable. Sometimes the buster sword is on fire. They are immortal, they are cringe, they are trying to atone because they believe they are the reason the world is ruined.

Hector Hu is a priest. Gable killed God. They are not the same.

I want to thank my fellow Gable nominators for doing an outstanding job showcasing the beauty and gracelessness that is Gable Skyjacks. Fight hard and take flight my friends 💪😇

Nicky Close (Dungeons & Daddies):

One armed half-demon man with a sword (also a Dedicated, Involved, Loving Father). (Specifically campaign 2, where he is an adult)

[jadestwdd]

Okay y’all, hear me out…

So we all know that I don’t think Daryl Dixon is a dominant person during sex. But once in a while he will be a little bit dom. so here are a few things that think about daryl when it comes to intimacy and or close situations like it….

Warnings: SMUT SMUT AND SMUT

DOM: Daryl Dixon is a man who will be able to make you cum in seconds. So when he’s in the mood, he will be ready to take control of the situation and make you mould like potty in his hands. Every once in a while he will be in control. He likes to be VERRY close and sweet.

Example: when he is in this mood, he will will either make you cum until you are melting into the ground or mattress. He doesn’t like to call you a ‘slut’ or ‘whore’, he will praise you and talk you through it. He will say things like

‘Such a good girl…my girl…my good girl…’

‘almost there baby, you can do it…I know you can.’

‘One more time, just one more time…cum round my cock one more time…your doing so good baby girl…cum again for me…’

He is sweet and not mean. He also doesn’t like to be called daddy, like it’s just clear that he doesn’t like it. However…he may have a mommy kink….we’ll get into that later…..

SUB: Daryl Dixon loves to be a bottom, he likes to surrender and be made to feel like he’s small. Even though he doesn’t admit it, he loves it. After a long day and he’s really tired, we wants to make you feel good and he wants you to make him forget about what happened outside the four walls of your bedroom. He loves to be marked on his chest and thighs, like hickeys. (HE HATES ALMOST ANY TYPE OF PAIN), he’ll beg you to make sure everyone knows not to come and try hit on him because he knows he’s yours. He is also verry vocal as in he whimpers, grunts, moans and even cry’s… sometimes he’ll even beg you to make him cum.

Example:

‘Please…please…let me…I’m a good boy, ima…ima…’

He’ll trail off and start to whimper as you lift off of his oh so sensitive and overstimulated cock because he wouldn’t use his big boy words.

——

‘Ahhh…fuck….oh god….make me cum…h-hard….make me cum hard….i promise I’ll be on my…best behaviour…..’

——

When he’s about to cum, a few dozen times you’ve heard him say…mommy….

‘Daryl almost there sweetie, you can cum in a second baby boy…’

You sigh as you chase your high, but he can’t take it anymore. Like a switch, he jerks his hips up forward and…

‘Mommy~’

He moans as he spills inside of you.

Afterwards he is very embarrassed but you assure him it’s okay and you won’t talk about anything he doesn’t want to.

—-

KINKS: what kinks does he have? Well my friends it’s quiet clear that Daryl has a teeny mommy kink. It’s VERRY rare but once in a while you will use it to your advantage, you’ll get him to say ‘I’m sorry mommy’ or ‘mommy please…’ when he begs or does something wrong. He also likes a tiny bit of ownership…he likes everyone to know that you are his, aka he doesn’t want anyone else touching you and vise versa. He wants everyone to know he wants no one else but you. PRAIS!!! he loves to praise you when he is in control but he also likes to be called things like ‘good boy’ or whatever. Daryl is always up to try something new as in positions or toys. But he never likes to use whips or anything that can hurt you or him. MABIE he would bite your earlobe or neck a little but nothing that will actually hurt you. He loves vibratiors on you, he likes to make you squirm and squirt. You like to make him squirm underneath you as you hold the tip of the bullet to his cock.

BELLOW THE BELT AMD BODY HAIR: so Daryl Dixon is big!!!. When he’s soft he is around 6-7 inches and when he’s hard he’s 8-9… he is un-cut and his tip is verry sensitive. he also likes to trim up every few months just to he looks neat but he doesn’t shave if that makes sense? he has hairy legs obi and a few hairs between his eyebrows but not berry noticeable. He doesn’t give a shit about how much you shave? He doesn’t care if you shave or not. He also reassures you about you being insecure about if your smelly or dirty.

SCARS: if you have self harm scars, he will kiss them for hours, if you have stretch marks he will kiss them for hours and so on… the first time he let you see his scars, you where in the shower and he started crying, so you kissed his back and chest and arms, also leaving a couple hickeys there to. But after a while, he got used to you being okay with them so he would also wear no shirt around the house if he was in the mood.

PUBLIC AFFECTION: Daryl doesn’t really show much affection in public but he will sometimes hold your hand or let you lean on his shoulder. If he’s going out on a long run, you will kiss him but other than that he doesn’t really show any affection. he doesn’t like sex in public either, he wants those times to feel special and safe.

FAVE POSITIONS: he loves cowgirl, missionary, and you even tried the Amazon position once but he didn’t like it. He loves anything that makes you two feel close and safe.

RANDOM: Daryl definitely loves you to sit on his face. He sometimes likes to just sit in-front of you and hold a vibratior to you while you tease him with a nother one.

——

Thats saul-0-

PLEASE LEAVE REQUESTS FOR ANY FICS YOU WANT!!!!



[pvrkacciosan]

Kicks and Kisses

Summary: After the readers run-in with Xaden's training methods, Bodhi isn't in any rush to let her back on them defenseless so takes it upon himself to teach her a few things.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Bodhi Durran X Marked Fem! Reader

Word Count: uncounted

Warnings: Suggestive, swearing, fighting training, Mature language content

☽⋆❈⋆☾

With the valiant help from a group of young healers you were released from the prescribed rest, and were able to get yourself back up and moving within a week.

You were still tender but your breathing wouldn't cut out on you and the blinding pain was no longer erupting behind your eyes rendering you useless in ever sense.

But still Bodhi had refused to let you return back to your own dorm in that time. Even when you had a perfectly good bed there.

Those beds are un-comfy and you know it.

You rolled your eyes at Asra, whether she could sense your attitude, you were hopeful she couldn't,

I don't understand why he won't let me go back to my own bed. That chair can't be very comfortable. You stared at the chair positioned on the far side of the room, the one Bodhi had been sleeping in whilst you took his bed. You didn't understand why you were entertaining such topics of conversation with her. Talking with Asra had always come naturally, like a sister you could confine in, and the subject of Bodhi Durran left your chest feeling warm in a rather pleasant way.

So Invite him into the bed with you.

It wasn't difficult for you to sense every dripping pulse of Asra's amusement, you gawked at her words in your head.

I can't do that. Won't it be awkward You couldn't help but contemplate the outcome.

Don't be foolish girl. You're a dragon rider, start acting like it. If you want something you might just start acting like that Riorson boy, heys taken the silver one to bed.

You didn't want to know where she had got that piece of information. But the notion of what she was speaking... There was a difference between asking Bodhi to share his bed and committing to taking him in his bed.

When Asra laughed in your head, you clamped your knees together, trying to ignore the heat that was building there. As you ripped the covers of Bodhi's bed from atop your body, you could't stop the swirling of those blood igniting thoughts. Couldn't decide what you would want more, to have him sleeping in the bed with you, or having him take you in the bed you had come to love.

The quilt scented of him. A deep smell that you hadn't noticed the first night you slept, it lingered on everything in this room.

His scent has been all over you. Asra's voice in your head, you only assumed she was referring to when you had gone flying yesterday, trying to ease yourself back into training once you got the all clear from the healers.

Bodhi and Cuir had flown with you both yesterday, positioning himself slightly below you, to catch you should you fall off Asra's back.

I would have caught you. Asra's voice was dripping with some tone you couldn't place, Laughing lightly in your own head you shot it down the bond. She didn't respond beyond that of a gentle huff.

Closing up the wall between you. Moving to begin gathering ouself from the room. Bodhi was supposed to meet you down at the mats for an initial round of training, trying to strengthen the muscles and reconditioning them to get back to what they had once been.

And as usual, you were running late. At least you could use the excuse of your lingering injuries. They weren't as painful, just uncomfotable. Especially your shoulder, a mender had reattached many of the tendsons and ligaments in your shoulder, but you still have only light movement in the joint.

Moving down through the halls, you rounded into the training room. The mats laid out as per usual, there were a couple cadets scattered around each pair training away from one another in private lessons.

Strolling in softly you glanced around and spotted two famiar bodies. Sauntering closer you watched them, matching hit for powerful hit on one another.

Bodhi and Xaden often never sparred with each other. Garrick was the usual go-to. The third boy was on the side of the mat, arms folded as he watched the cousins spar. You moved to stand beside the giant.

"Hey Y/n" He offered you a small smile.

At the sound of your names, Bodhi glanced up, un-focusing the fight at hand. It landed him a stiff jaw from the next punch Xaden landed. Blinking to look you over once, Bodhi dodged out the way of his cousins next hit.

You watched from the side returning Garrick's smile with one of your own before turning back unaware of the excited glances Garrick was switching between you and Bodhi.

"Garrick.," Bodhi warned as he dodged a swing from Xaden before getting a punch in at the Wingleader's ribs.

You glance questioningly up at the boy beside you, Garrick coughed, covering his smirk with a hand.

"They are sparring to burn off...Pent up...emotions"

You frowned at him, that definitely was not what Garrick was entertaining in his thoughts. You squinted at him before glancing to watch Bodhi swing hard and fast for Xaden. What Bodi lacked in size against his cousin and Garrick he surely made up for in speed. His exposed muscles rippling with each movement. Your gaze zones in on the sweat gleaming, coating every inch of his skin.

What it would be like to have his body pressed against you own on that bed, having him above or below you, At each others mercy.

You're drooling

You went to snip back at Asra but she hid behind your mental shield straight after her own words.

Paranoia took hold, Twisting away from Garrick slightly you wiped at your lower lip and chin with the back of your hand. You weren't but you still sense Asra's lingering amusement at your sudden panic.

Turning back to watch, Xaden and Bodhi panting hard as they finally parted from one another on the mat. Bodhi gave Xaden's shoulder a rough shoves but they were both smiling as they stepped back.

Xaden initially avoided your gaze. You hadn't seen the Wingleader since the day of your injury. Besides once when he had tried to come see you. Bodhi had refused to let him in then and you could still recall the sound of them arguing outside the bedroom door.

He tried now to get out of the way, Slipping from the room. Bodhi folded his arms across his chest clearing his throat, Xaden froze. Pivoting to meet your stare.

"Y/n I'm sorry for putting you on that mat" His tone was so awkward even you didn't know what exactly to say. Bodhi rose his eyebrows when Xaden cast him a sidelong glance.

The Wingleader sighed, "It was clear you didn't want to fight, I shouldn't have made you and it won't happen again"

Bodhi was grinning like an idiot in your direction when Xaden finally rose back to his full height. Bodhi watching you intently, waiting for you to acknowledge his efforts in making his cousin apologize. Something about the way he smiled at you made the strings in your heart cinch. Asra slide into your mind, her presence alone snapping you from watching Bodhi.

Glancing to Xaden, "I'm fine Xaden. I'm alive am I not?" The Wingleader waited. Attention flicking to Bodhi, You warily followed his stare. A muscle beneath Bodhi's eyes twitched, Garrick caught it after seeing the expression on your own face. Spinning himself into the middle of the two and clasped Xaden roughly on one shoulder.

"Right we're off to find your opponent from that day. Try and make sure Imogen hasn't gutted the girl for her slander against you" Garrick's usually stoic face was set in a grin, you had a feeling he might sooner set Imogen on the girl first before saving her hide.

Garrick and Xaden stalked from the mats, leaving the room entirely within a few long strides,

When you turned back to obverse Bodhi, heat bloomed in your cheeks to find him already watching you.

"Right" He shook his head, these dark curls shaking to cover his brow bone. "Let's get started."

After running through a quick warm up with him your skin had already formed up quite a sweat. Many of the other cadets had vacated the training room, probably to attend to other daily duties.

Bodhi had been wary of your shoulder joint and coached you through each movement, sometimes he would place a hand against your body to steady the off balance the injuries had given you and It was becoming increasingly difficult to focus.

Moving off the mat to grab a quick drink of water you tried to organise the shambling thoughts which flushed your flesh to the core.

"We will move onto some evasion techniques and manoeuvrers to get yourself out of someone's grip."

You nodded, taking a quick final gulp of the water, evasion and defensive practise that would be fine. You had done this before.

You turned to move back onto the mat when your thoughts finally processed what you were getting yourself into. There was only a few ways to actively practise these sorts of manoeuvrers . Ones that involved lots of bodily contact.

You blinked as Bodhi shook his muscles, rolling each of his joints, The silence prompted him to look up

"I won't bite" there was a boyish smirk gracing his lips, it was an expression you had seen on him for years since knowing each other, often when causing mischief. The only form of consistency it offered you now was that it caused your heart to hammer harder against your ribs.

Pull yourself together. You were reducing yourself to no better than a teenage boy seeing a women naked for the first time in his life. Sighing deeply you moved onto the mat.

Bodhi stilled hands clasping together, allowing you to come closer, he watched carefully, assessing you.

"How is your shoulder feeling?"

Prompted by his question you rolled the ball and socket joint, easing deeper into the muscle there. They ached slightly but nothing more beyond overexerting the shoulder.

"All good" smiling softly you ignored the joint focusing now as Bodhi began to prepare himself.

"We are going to start with something simple. If someone tries to grab you from the front."

He waited for you to nod before continuing, "I'm going to grab for you and all you have to do is get me off you. We will critique everything once we've gone through every scenario "

He didn't wait for your acknowledgement now, unprepared you stepped back when both of Bodhi's hands came up towards you. As his body followed through your own muscle memory kicked in, grabbing his right wrist you jammed a thumb into the pulse point there and twisted— hard.

Bodhi let loose a grunt as he moved with the twisting limb, following so you wouldn't break his arm entirely. You only let go once his limb was flush unnaturally against his back.

"Good." He turned shaking his wrist lightly "That was perfect. Could be a little quicker with your reaction time, but we will work on that in our next session"

You nodded, worriedly glancing at his wrist perhaps you had been too forceful.

"This time we are going to run with the scenario that I actually got a hold on you"

Bodhi closed the gap separating you both, slowly raises his hands, hesitating with them hovering your body, noting their destined locations you gave Bodhi the go ahead. He rests his hand on your left shoulder the other at the base of your neck.

"Right.." Bodhi cleared his throat, "I'm going to pretend to be trying to push you back as if to get you.. against a wall. Get out of my grip."

Nervous, you glance at him, he offers an encouraging smile, nodding softly you tried desperately to ignore as his grip squeezes lightly against you body, try to ignore the pander of heartbeats that flutter in you.

When Bodhi began to push back you resisted, planting a foot behind to stabilise the weight of you. The muscles in the back of the leg stretching with the pressure. The result of Bodhi pushing you however; his hand pushing into your windpipe, slowing the flow of air to you with dizzying affect and not from the lack of oxygen.

Relaxing the breaths you took, You made quick work of trying to lessen his grip. Pressing your finger into his wrist's pulse point.

"Find somethinng new. That's not going to work a second time"

Frustration grew like a building short circuit. You knew strength wasn't your biggest fighting factor, it was instinct at this point born and bred as a female to go for a man's weakest point and it was taking everything within your resolve to not kick between his legs.

Pressure point began quizzing through your mind. Bodhi watches as your eyes flicked across his body ravaging at the sight of your attention on him. Felt the heat of it across every inch of his aching skin, tensioned for the need of touch, your touch. You were simply looking for his weaknesses, ones you could reach from the position you were currently in.

Shifting your weight into the side he held a hand to your throat, you rammed your thumb under his arm, nail digging into the soft flesh there.

Bodhi loosens his grip enough for you to duck under the other arm and release yourself. Bouncing back on the balls of your feet, you teetered towards the edges of the mat.

Bodhi rounded with a smirk, shooting a quick wink your way, "Atta Girl." The genuine pride and excitement in his tone made your cheeks flush.

Any focus you had fought to obtain since the beginning of this session slipped entirely away from you in that second. Shallow breathing, you shook yourself off the rising tension with it.

"Again." Bodhi gestured you back for the middle of the mat, "This time I'm coming at you from behind"

The air hauled in your throat, gulping quickly and moving back to the centre. Bodhi stepped up behind you.

He gave you even less warning. Albeit you could have used one this time unexpecting of his arms to latch themselves around your torso.

You needed to focus, focus on getting yourself out of his hold, but the only thing swirling in your mind was how close his body now was to yours, you could feel the rippling warm muscles on his chest against your back.

His arms tightened and you gasped lightly when you felt the sensation of his palm brush up the side of your breast, the material of your clothing ruffling as he righted his grip

A pulse of fresh warmth coursed through you, blooming from your core. It was almost painful as the material brushed the peak of your nipple.

If this was how your body reacted to his unintentional intimate touches you could only imagine what he might do to you intentionally.

"You seem distracted." the heat of his breath fanned your neck when he whispered the words against the shell of your ear, close enough you swore on your life that was his lips brush the curve.

Nerves rippled against him. You needed to get your shit together, but. . .

There was a smugness in his tone. That bastard, was he potentially... teasing on purpose to distract you? You swallowed a scoff. Two could definitely play at this game.

Grabbing his elbow you made an attempt to lift his arm up over your head, the well tones limb didn't move, but you couldn't resist the smile, for it was a cover up.

Rolling your hips and pushing you ass back against him. With the shared closeness he had created you heard his breath stuttered behind your ear and felt his pulse skyrocket.

Who was the distracted one now, driving the heel of your foot into the top of his, you heard the oxygen whoosh into his lungs as he hissed. Elevating the foot ever so slightly.

You wouldn't have the strength to throw him over your shoulder but if he was off balance as he was now. Gripping both hands as far up his arm as you could reach you twisted sharply into his unbalanced side.

Feeling his weight falling against you own you planted both legs to limit the chance of you falling too.

When Bodhi hit the ground you were diligent, moving quickly while he stunned to recall his senses.

Swinging one leg you planted yourself above him to pin him below you.

There was a second were you hadn't thought, just did. Hadn't realised what you were doing until you did it. Hadn't realised you now straddled his waist, hadn't realised you might have miscalculated the extent of your teasing until you felt the growth hardening beneath your ass.

Bodhi blinked at you in wild surprise as though he too now realised what had been done.

Had he not been thinking just as you hadn't? Simply following movements and feelings that felt so inheritable right until there was an irreversible shift between you both. Bodies welded together from where you sat atop him.

Every nerve in you was jackhammering in your heart, blood thrumming against your hearing. An unmistakable ache was growing between your legs, one which could and would lead to decisions you knew were irreversible.

Perhaps Bodhi had been teasing you simply to district, there was nothing attached to that. No emotion or feeling.

Foolish girl. You hadn't realised Asra had been listening into your thoughts, Had failed to notice she had lowered her shield. Is that how distracted Bodhi had made you?

You went to move from his lap, but Bodhi groaned, the sound low and guttural from deep at the back of his throat, head falling back with his eyes squeezing shut. Without looking his hand found your thigh, squeezing to hold you in place,

"Don't move." The guttural throaty sound in his voice blinded your every sense, glancing to his veined hand you couldn't rip your attention away until Bodhi blinked at you startled, a muscle in his jaw twitched as his eyes darkened.

Within the next second you attempted to lift yourself back off him, in one swift movement, Bodhi pushed himself up with a hand behind him. Using the grip on your leg to keep you on top of him, the positions now pushing you to sit further onto his growing erection.

It wasn't until he rightened himself that Bodhi released his grip only to move it across your body, you felt it clasp the back of your neck as he leaned closer pulling you with him and wasted no more time of colliding his lips with yours.

You stilled, stunned as his lips moved against your own, Asra's presence stroking against your mind prompting you from the stupor, her rebuilding her shield was enough of a hint and approval.

Softening your tense muscles you wrapped both arms to encircle around his shoulders, pulling your chest closer to his. Letting one hand slip to cup the back of his head. Fingers threading his dark curls.

Bodhi continued denying himself breath as he smiled, feeling you finally give in. Letting yourself match him. Giving and receiving the hot kisses, fast and swift.

They continued, hungry for more. Starved for the touch of one another. It was a sensation you didn't know you wanted — needed.

The heat encased between your bodies made your heart hammer into overdrive, Lifting your weight and then lowering it with a roll of your hips, causing friction against the now obvious erection beneath you.

Bodhi exhaled sharp and hot against your mouth, pulling from your lips. Once more his eyes squinted shut, brow furrowed.

You couldn't pry your attention away. The expression on his face alone set you emotions spiralling. It was the perfect mix of pain and pleasure rolled into one.

Wiggling your ass down, Bodhi groaned louder this time. His eyes snapped open to level with your own, within that hungry fire that was beginning to demand more of you: a desire you would happily indulge.

Even within that burning, there was still a softness to Bodhi, he was still the same man you grew up with, a comfort you had come to depend on.

He grinned as he watched you, eyes flicking to scan every inch of your face. You shivered as Bodhi dragged a hand across you collar bone, up your neck to cup the line of your jaw. Thumb rubbing into your now swollen lower lip.

He leaned so close once more that you now shared a combined airspace.

"We shouldn't continue" the smirk growing on his lips said more. The growing heat within you was answer enough, rubbing a hand into his jaw, for the thrill of it you shook you head leaning closer still. "We shouldn't"

Tightening your grip at the back of his head, fingers twisting into a strand of hair, Bodhi dipped his head to yours, lips a whisper apart.

"Kiss me again" His voice turned throaty, the blood in you warming at his touch, "Please" the shift in his tone was astonishing.

Giving yourself over, leaning to rejoin him, a coil of tension grew in the core of your chest. You kissed him fully, Pulling Bodhi into you.

Bodhi broke the connection after a second, "Atta girl" he was already smirking by the time he kissed you again.

That coil continued to tighten. This was an irreversible decision, this pairing. It could easily cleave you in two.

But this moment as Bodhi began to lower his kisses flowing down the column of your throat, you couldn't bring yourself to give a flying fuck.

[astrialuvs]

Headcanons for Akabane Karma as Himself | as a Friend | as a Lover

➻ PAIRING : akabane karma x reader

➻ CONTENT WARNING : my headcanons to these red-haired boy 😗🫶 pt. 2

➻ WORD COUNT : 1119 words

a/n: i'm sorry for the late upload (hehe). idrk when will i post the last..

another a/n: i might uplaod my hcs for gakushuu too (idk when)  😅

He boinks a book at you when he notices you dozing off, even though you invited him for a review at the library.

It was expected that his presence at a study session you had organized would boost your motivation to review more. However, the sheer boredom of you—the library and staleness, with lamps flickering in—created by such a dull background was working against you. However, as you focused on your notes, fatigue set in, and your eyelids began to droop.

On the other side of the table, Karma was partially immersed in his world, playing video games on his phone. He watched you fight against the advancing wave of sleep without your knowledge. His mind, however, was unconventional and quick to find new approaches even in silence, so he selected some method of making you stay awake.

Karma smiled slyly as he picked up a nearby book and figured out its direction before throwing it at you. The book hit softly against your head with a ‘boink.’ The shock hit you suddenly, and you glared at him aggressively.

"Karma, really?" you cried out, massaging the area of your head where the book hit.

He stared at you innocently, as if amazed. He quipped, "Hey! You were drifting off. Just doing my part to keep you alert and focused." His reply made you scoffed.

The unexpected wake-up call worked. The interruption caused by Karma had effectively broken down your sleepiness, which was looming large over you. Even if his approach was a little absurd, your lips curled slightly as you realized that, despite the circumstances, Karma had managed to maintain punctuality and spontaneous stimulation throughout the study.

Who's your rival in academics, sports, or video games, but expect a healthy dose of rivalry.

Under the dim light of Karma's gaming console screen, you and Karma were fighting in a video game. The room was alive with the rhythm of powerful blasts from controllers and the overdrive sound of your playful outcasts.

When the unreal battle appeared on screen, Karma couldn't help but smile knowingly. He teased, "Are you prepared to go down this round?" He touched the control with his fingers.

You countered with a confident smile. "I suppose we will find out. I hope you've been reviewing what you've learned, Karma."

The taunting was competitive, with each of you attempting to manipulate and navigate around the other in the video game. Laughter and occasional shouts of victory or defeat filled the room.

Despite intense competition, you and Karma maintained a tacit understanding. Each of you was respectful of the other's gaming abilities, which elevated the game beyond mere contention. Each action received either a respectful agreement or a quick-witted look, as if to emphasize the importance of jest in this competitive environment where fun was the ultimate goal.

Throughout the game, however, Karma managed to gain a foothold on you in a spectacular manner. He declared triumphantly, "Guess I won this time."

"Very good Karma. But the night is just beginning, and you still have a long way to go towards victory."

Whom you two have your own language and gestures, such as all-knowing smirks and eye signals.

You and Karma were always caught in an unusual act of communication while inside a gathering. A conversation, laughter, and the clinking of glasses filled the room, but the two of you conversed silently.

At that point, a mutual wink or fugitive eye signal was sufficient, as was your own secret code that went beyond written language. Those who were preoccupied with other people's conversations were unaware of the silent little communicative move that occurred between you and Karma, during which a sense of trust and unity developed.

Karma suddenly poured an all-knowing smirk on your face as you two shared that moment when nothing was said and no words were required. This was a language born out of shared experiences, inside jokes, and an unwritten oath that would grow stronger over time.

Whether it was a response to the ongoing conversation, a lighthearted joke, or simply two people having fun together, the smiles and eye movements were enough. It became a testament to your friendship, like a secret code known only to the two of you.

Who flicks your forehead at very random moments, whether at a serious moment, when you are spaced out, or eating.

Sitting in the library among rows of textbooks, which you shared with Karma during serious discussions about upcoming exams. He raised his brow with a mischievous look in his eyes, taking advantage of the opportunity while you were deep in conversation with him.

He suddenly warned you, "Watch out!" before flicking your forehead in an unexpected but friendly gesture.

You blinked in surprise and laughed. "Karma? Come on. I'm trying to concentrate here!"

"Absolutely! Distraction helps keep the mind alert and focused.

* * *

The following week, during a quiet moment in the school courtyard, Karma appeared beside you.

He quipped jokingly, "More deep thinking?" and hit you again on the forehead to emphasize his point.

You smiled childishly and shot at him. "Am I not allowed to get away from your forehead flicks?"

"What's the big deal about that?" he inquired, an enticing smile forming in his eyes.

* * *

With a flick, Karma took advantage of even the most casual lunch you two had together in your school cafeteria, for example, when you were about to bite on your sandwich.

"Karma!" You cried, partly laughing and partly protesting.

"Can't get away from that, it turns normal circumstances into extraordinary ones!"

As a result, Karma's forehead flicks have become an integral part of your daily conversations. These playful actions, whether trying to be serious or comical in nature, made your friendship have good moments between laughs and joy as if knitted on quicksilver.

Whom you share your "teas" and gossips with.

You and Karma were seated in a quiet nook of the local cafe, enjoying gentle conversation while smelling freshly brewed coffee and hearing distant murmurs. In that safe space, the "teas" and gossip flowed freely like threads woven for people's sheer amusement and trust.

How remarkable was it that, facing each other, you leaned forward, eager to share current events, even if they were scandalous. Karma began this exchange with a wink of the eye and in secret, initially sublimating it into a joke.

"All right, it's tea time. What is the most juicy detail about the incriminating rumor you have?"

As a result, the conversation became filled with laughter and animated faces. You would occasionally make comical observations about your classmates, teachers, and other characters in your lives.The teas shared were an entertaining mix of witty retorts, secrets offered and whispered, and bantered conspiracies.

[flametrashiraarchive]

Hai um, can you do like, Rengoku x Reader who struggles with body insecurities? Mainly like, the tummy or back plush?

HELLO! Yea!

I did already do Rengoku x chubby!reader but I don't ever think there can be enough of the sunshine man, so yes, yes I can!

There are 3 things in Demon Slayer I refuse to accept: 1) that the breathing styles don't actually create the cool effects, 2) that thing about what happens after they activate the slayer marks, and 3) that Kyojuro has a six pack. My boy lives on copious amounts of carbs and fried food and has a little squish himself (also it just makes sense for a swordsman to have extra padding- would you rather get stabbed through your muscles and internal organs or a couple of inches of fat? Anyway...)

KYOJURO X CHUBBY READER- Tummy Edition.

(God I fucking love him)

NSFW beneath the cut. GN!Reader. TASTY.

You're at the kitchen sink washing sweet potatoes for dinner when Kyojuro comes up behind you and hugs as he often does, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and pressing his lips to your neck.

He feels you tense up slightly. You stiffen in his arms and your hand defensively goes to capture his wrist.

He knows immediately what's wrong. He's very good at reading people and this has happened before. You're concerned about your tummy again.

"You're so beautiful," he assures you, his voice soft and low against that spot just below your ear. "Inside and out."

You try to cover your vulnerability with humor and hold up one of the vegetables in your hand. "Nah, I look like this."

His thick, black eyebrows slant in concern, "Now, sunflower, you know how I feel about sweet potatoes. They're beautiful too. But..." He loosens his hug a little to place his hand across your belly. "They're hard and un-cuddleable, and you're soft, so the comparison doesn't really hold up beyond you both being my favorites."

You smile and he leans into you, kissing your temple. "Did someone say something to hurt you?"

"No, it's just a feeling." You look down, as the weight of your insecurity crushes you.

"Hm," he hums thoughtfully.

He turns you round to face him and gets down on his knees, gazing up at you with adoration and reverence. He takes your hand in his and gives it a soft squeeze.

"I need you to listen to me, but I will repeat it as many times as you need me to. You are beautiful to me. I adore every aspect of you, and that includes your softness."

He tells you this with the utmost sincerity and gentle kindness, his thumb stroking circles on the back of your hand as he speaks.

And when he's done and you nod your head in understanding, he pulls you into an embrace, resting his cheek on your stomach and smiling to himself.

He's telling the truth too; he will absolutely tell you how wonderful you are to him however many times it takes and he means it wholeheartedly.

No matter what your insecurity is; your tummy, your back, arms, thighs, chest, he adores you and thinks you're the most wonderful person. His very favorite person, in fact.

Now... when it comes to insecurities about your body during sex, Kyojuro is just as supportive, but he will show you how much he appreciates your body, as well as simply telling you.

OBVIOUSLY Kyojuro is King of Going Down and he will happily spend forever between your thighs, but if you're self conscious about your tummy he's gonna make a little stop there first.

He'll kiss it all over telling you how gorgeous you are, that you're precious and wonderful and worthy.

He'll get so wrapped up in your loveliness he'll forget how loud he is.

*kiss* BEAUTIFUL! *kiss* GORGEOUS! *kiss* SEXY!!

You laugh because your lovely man is just so effusive with his love and appreciation of you, and it's impossible not to feel it.

And then he'll wipe that smile off your face as his kisses trail lower...

While he's going down on you, he'll lay his arm over your stomach. Since he can't hear well (especially with your thighs cradling the sides of his head) your belly tells him a lot about how you're enjoying yourself.

He pays attention to the rhythm of your breaths, the tension in your muscles and the way your soft body moves with them.

He LOVES the way your lower belly tenses when you're right on the brink.

And when he's made you cum he'll make sure you're fucked right.

He never gives you less than his all.

He'll either press down into you, relishing the soft, plush warmth of your body against his

or he'll have you ride him; half-closed fiery eyes drinking in the sight of you, hypnotized by the way you move.

"Beautiful~" he whispers, because he simply cannot hold that thought in.

He just adores you.

No matter what, his love for you burns bright, and he'll spend his life trying to get that fire to spread to your heart too.

[super-clearlysaltybouquet]

The one With The Heat Wave

Wolfstar x reader      Sirius Black x reader      Remus Lupin x reader      Sirius Black x Remus Lupin      Sirius Black x reader x Remus Lupin 

Established couple (throuple), Hint of possible Poly!marauders x reader to come?

Summary: Reader is very (sexually) frustrated, it’s also far, far too hot out

Warnings: Sexual Content (but no smut)

Some fluff

Word Count: 1.1k

The heat wave started a week ago. And it had been a week since either of your boyfriends had touched you. 

You’re sitting in between them in one of Bins’s history of magic lectures, right at top of the cascading auditorium, both the farthest row away from the ground - and your terribly boring lecturer. Everyone’s breath is coming out in tight puffs and long sighs, and that smell of sweat hangs heavy in the air. 

‘You’d think they’d take pity on us’, Sirius says, aggressively fanning his face. He’s more pink than he should be, and his face is dotted almost entirely in perfectly round baubles of sweat. 

‘Surely this classifies as youth endangerment’, James chimes in from the row below you, and you can almost imagine the steam sizzling up from the top of his head. It’s far too hot, and everyone in the room but the ghost is feeling it. 

‘Didn’t McGonagall say something about a charm on the walls to cool the air down?’, Sirius asks to no one in particular.

‘We’re in bloody Scotland Padfoot, there’s no way she was being serious’, Remus pants, sparing Sirius a glace that somehow manages to be equally sympathetic as it is exasperated. The heat has got everyone on a short fuse. But worst of all neither of the boys have touched you beyond tight chaste kisses, and gentle pats to skin in almost a week. Since this hellfire decided to settle above ground. 

Remus has got his sleeves rolled all the way up. His muscles and vascular veins are more than poking out from his now near-translucent white school shirt. You know some of the Hufflepuff girls two seats over have noticed too, most definitely fanning themselves over more than just the hot air. It’s almost as nauseating. The smell isn’t helping either. The perspiration of the other 30 students in the room pales in comparison to the men right next to you. Their smell, the heavy breathing, and the undoubtedly sticky bodies beside you keep your mind entirely unsettled. Drawing your thoughts helplessly back to nights, and days spent in beds, bathtubs and broom closets. You hear your overworking heartbeat in two places at once, as blood rushes to your head and then all the way back down again.

‘Shhhh quiet, I can’t hear what he’s saying’, you chastise, motioning to Bins, your only hope is distracting yourself long enough to wait out this dry spell.

‘Sweetheart, no one can hear what he’s saying, he’s been mumbling for the last half hour’, Remus says.

‘And even if he wasn’t with the way everyone seems to be breathing like rabid dogs in here that would surely drown him out regardless’, Sirius adds, placing a gentle hand on your exposed thigh. The head rush is instant, like huffing a pack of cigarettes, or being doused in ice cold water. Then Sirius is retracting his hand back to fan his face. Leaving you to contemplate the newfound wetness between your legs. These slivers of contact were all you had to go on over the past week. Light touches, grazes and slip ups here and there. Far too minimal and devastatingly un-satisfying. It made your head spin, and your fingers tingle. You'd put on a brave face, but the waiting game was finally catching up to you.

‘I really don’t feel well’, you say, furrowing your brows together, gripping the wooden chair beneath you tightly. Desperately trying to bring balance to your very out of balance mind and body.

‘You and me both Y/N’, Sirius says under his breath, before turning to take notice of your genuinely sickly state. In an instant he’s fanning you instead, desperately, and with both hands.

Remus turns to look at you, and he isn’t able to hide his concern. 

‘Ohhh, my baby’, he coos, clasping his hands on either cheek to wipe your sweat away. You cross your legs in an instant.

‘Is it all too much for you?’ he continues, and you nod desperately between his hands, gripping onto his wrists to keep them there. It’s strangely counterintuitive. It’s the hottest week the Scottish Highlands have seen, probably ever, and you’re in despair to be touched. When you should really be shrinking away from any skin-to-skin contact. Somehow their attention is your salvation, the eternal cool to the blistering heat. 

Remus leans down to nip at your neck then, stealing a sweet kiss and a quick bite to the skin, soothing it with his tongue. And you fucking moan in your history of magic lecture. You’re reaching delirium, you really can’t be held accountable. Thank Godric, amongst the room full of overheating, whining students it isn’t particularly out of place. But even if someone pulled you up on it, you’re not sure you’d be embarrassed. Sirius’s hand returns to your thigh, gripping much tighter than before, sliding the tips of his fingers ever closer to the hem of your ruffled school skirt. Oh, they've definitely caught on. You start whimpering, practically shaking with need. ‘How about we head back up to the dorm? how does that sound?’, Sirius whispers in your ear, and you nod frantically. Remus is just looking at you, his hands still softly clasping your cheeks. His eyes gone black; pupils widened beyond belief. 

‘Just a reminder, public indecency is a crime’, James quips sharply from the row in front, his body contortioned to look at you from behind him. He sounds more frustrated than he does humorous in his remark, quite out of character for him. You’re not sure how long he’s been watching you three. Lost in your daze. He looks more out of it than he did just a minute ago, and his eyes lock onto yours. His lips are bitten, with sly traces of shredded skin, and he’s most definitely panting, as Sirius put it earlier: “like a rabid dog”. Your two boyfriends glance between each other, subtle knowing smirks gracing their lips.

‘Jealous, Prongs?’, Sirius tests, leaning forward endearingly, so the ends of his longer hair fan over James’s face.

‘Oh fuck off’, James whispers in defeat, and the tinge on his cheeks looks more like embarrassment than a just hot flush - as he turns his head back to face Bins at the front of the hall.

Remus and Sirius keep their eyes on one another for a little while, taking in James’s outburst. Some sort of silent communication takes place between them, and from the way you read them oh so easily you know they’re saying: ‘we’ll talk about that later’. 

Their attention returns to you. ‘How about we head up then, dove?’, Remus says, and you know it’s not really a question. 

‘y-yeah…’, you whimper, moving to stand as Sirius has already hastily packed up all your things on your behalf, slinging your bag over his shoulder. Remus keeps a firm hand around your waist, guiding the three of you out through the back of the lecture hall.

[diorgirl444]

to all the greasers i’ve loved before - chapter 1.

warnings: bad writing (my first time writing a multiple part fic ), don’t let the picture of dallas fool you he barely features in this chapter i’m afraid, fem! curtis reader though it is never specified whether the reader is a bio daughter or adopted and so can be read as either, doesn’t follow book canon, 1060 words <3

you had always loved love. your parents were more than happy to recount stories of how you would wander around the house dressed in your nightdress with the lace curtain over your hair clutching onto a small posy of daisies and dandelions. you had called it playing weddings and it was your all-time favourite game.

this obsession with love trickled into other things with most of the cookies you baked being heart-shaped or being the only person to still give everyone, even the weird kids handmade valentines after it was deemed uncool at about thirteen. yes, you loved love but there was an important differentiation, you loved the idea of it. so you supposed it was natural that you began to write love letters the way some people wrote diary entries.

you kept them in a teal silk hatbox of your mothers which had long since lacked the hat intended to be in it. there was one letter for every boy you had liked at one time - five in total. Bryon from volunteering at the hospital, Johnny from freshman homecoming, Dallas from two summers ago, Randy from Model Un and Keith since forever. you supposed your letters were less i love you love letters and more goodbye love letters. they were a way of accepting the crush whilst also allowing yourself to let go and move on. that you could sing to the Ronettes and not be singing about him, that you could buy milkshakes at the diner and not wonder which flavour he’d choose. the letters set you free - at least they were supposed to…

Keith Jacobs was a friend of your brothers but you’d always been a bit in love with him. his mother moved to Tulsa all alone with one son and a baby girl just across the street from you and so your parents, lovely people that they were invited the Jacobs round for a fried chicken dinner. you made a peach cobbler for dessert and when Keith asked for seconds - you glowed with pride. by the time he’d finished his third helping you’d already decided what shade of white your wedding dress would be and from that day he was practically always at your house. there was time when it was the four of you, Daryl, Soda, Pony and Keith but then your parents died and it all changed.

Daryl had to grow up and then the other three all started hanging out later and getting into fights which was fine because you had Angela and Sylvia. well, you had Sylvia till the summer before high school. then suddenly over that summer, she started smoking cheap cigarettes and wearing tight jeans where you were still happy to read a silly romance novel and bake cookies. angie was more like Sylvia really but she was like a street dog who you’d given a treat to - loyal to a fault and kept coming back.

which leads you to where you are now, the last day before junior year and the house is packed. you and Daryl were determined to keep up the tradition of home-cooked meals, mainly for Ponyboy but if you were honest with yourself sometimes as you mashed the potatoes with the radio turned up you would close your eyes and pretend your parents were slow dancing behind you. it turned out that most of your brother's friends didn’t normally eat well so they would often come round too. privately you wish they wouldn’t, they were too loud to you with no manners and they didn’t wash their hands before they ate. but for Ponyboy, the baby of the family you put up with it. You break out of these thoughts when Two-bit speaks, because as you hate to remember he’s Two-bit now not Keith anymore.

“guess who scored themselves a girlfriend”

You choke on your broccoli as all the boys cheer and clap him on the back. your ears ring and you feel like you’re gonna be sick. quietly you whisper to Daryl.

“I don’t feel very well. I think it’s my monthlies - I’m gonna go to bed”

he nods ruffling your hair affectionately as if you're still five and not almost seventeen. you don’t mind - that’s Darry’s way - playing dad to you and your brothers.

“g’night kid I’ll bring you some hot cocoa up and one of those hot water bottles wrapped in a towel.”

as you retreat to your bedroom with tears stinging you hear a chorus of “goodnights” and “feel better soon” from all apart from Dallas. despite your pain you still have the energy to roll your eyes, god forbid Winston cares about someone other than himself for once.

once you clasp your box and retreat under the floral quilts that your mom made you finally allow the tears to fall as you reread the letters. you decide tomorrow you’ll draft a new letter for two-bit, an official goodbye to the foolish hope you’ve clung to for so long. You hear the click of the look, and hastily you shove the letters back into the hatbox and wipe any resounding tears. Pony perches on the edge of your bed holding out the hot cocoa and water bottle that Darry had promised you.

“sissy, you okay?”

you bite back a laugh when he calls you that, a name that he called you as a baby that just stuck. then you watch his eyes catch the hatbox with curiosity.

“what’s that?”

clutching the box to your chest you speak.

“nothing just an old hatbox of mom’s that I keep recipes in. I’ve been working on a new strawberry shortcake one.”

you lie easily knowing that since that’s Pony’s favourite dessert it’ll distract him. he grins widely at you and you are reminded how young he is like a stab in the gut.

“promise?”

he says holding his pinky finger out.

“promise baby, I’ll see you in the morning okay?”

standing up you say to him as you press a kiss to his forehead and place the box away in the top shelve of your wardrobe. he’s still at an age where he pretends that stuff grosses him out so he scowls childishly as he leaves the room. you slip into your white cotton nightgown and finally let sleep overtake you. you’ll deal with it all in the morning and yet in that weird stage between sleeping and awake, you swear you hear the door open once more…

hope you like it! xoxo, flo <3

@socgf @heart-shqped-box @jujuheartz13 @r0seb100d @cranberrv @anifever @notagreasernotasoc @honeysmoonn for now i’m just tagging all the people who expressed an interest but if you don’t wanna be tagged or wanna be added let me know <3

[wishmaster]

Hey Billy, I'm just a gay 20 something twink with bright platinum hair and a bit of a nerdy streak. I was just hanging out with my best friend from highschool who went to a party school for uni and his new buds.... Are different. He's changed a lot, gotten a lot bigger and into sports and kept commenting on how scrawny I was. I think I heard him and his bros muttering a wish of some kind.

I don't know what's going on but I feel like I have a fever and I've been sweating A LOT

Otter on my Mind

Such a cute young thing, too bad you were surrounded by a bunch of horny boys looking for a new boy to fuck.

You feel yourself pass out, when you awake you have on a rather heavy fur like coat. You stand up to find you seem taller, you un zip the coat and now notice your previous smooth twink body was now coated in hair, your body somewhat more muscular than before. Soon you feel something strange on your face as well, a full beard now covered your somewhat more manly face. You hair returned to your normal dark boring color, but it's when you walk you notice how big and peach like your ass had become, when you remove your tight jeans you'd noticed a fuzz covering your new extra sensitive cheeks, your once small cock had increased a bit in size, but more in thickness, your bush so hairy now you couldn't find it at first. you pulled your pants back up and stood in front of a mirror. You gasped as you figured out you were now a super sexy otter. Your dick twitched realizing you had just become your friend and his bros perfect sex boy.

Bro come on my dick ain't going to suck itself. You recognized the voice of your friend, suddenly the vision of his cock flooded your mind, his perfect jock cock and round full balls. His firm ass, his sweaty musk called to you. As much as it used to disgust you all you could do was go to him, realizing once you went to him you'd be in for a full on orgy with him and his frat bros, you had quickly become the fraternity's hairy little whore and no matter how much you wanted to fight it the wishes they made had sealed your fate your ass was frat property now, no matter how hard you tried to fight it.

[sergeifyodorov]

Your post of all the first overalls to girl interrupted actively makes me feel crazy. Do you have a ranking of the most compelling first overalls?

cody's list of most compelling (active) (to me) first overalls

21. aaron ekblad (2014.) i don't care for the florida panthers

20. alexis lafreniere (2020). his strongest narrative juices are a) the bust thing (he was a covid baby, it takes time) and b) maybe him also going to rimouski like sid, if you really wanted to pull it out like that. but the two of them have little otherwise connection, so not really

19. owen power (2021) this is a list ranked by compellingness and not cutieness or who i would want to provide most with feminizing hrt against their will

18. nico hischier (2017) even some of the least compelling 1oas are still quite interesting IMHO -- nico is the highest ever drafted swiss player + a very young captain on a basement team + a CHL import. all of which *are* juicy. he just lacks... i don't know, a little extra je ne sais quoi

17. macklin celebrini (2024) invoking the power of "He Literally Just Got Here" for this one. the daddy issues are a powerful offset though

16. ryan nugent-hopkins (2011). the power of the longest-tenured member of a team is quite something. earns points for not being an upper middle class rich boy either

15. nathan mackinnon (2013). controversial to put him so low i know but in my genuine and honest opinion he's way more interesting as a Character than a Part Of The Narrative. crucial divide here. i'm about to talk about slaf's personality making him interesting narratively but they do want their good canadian boys to shut up and take it and nate doesn't rebel against that. all he wants to do is win (accomplished) and fuck sidcros (negligible)

14. juraj slafkofsky (2022) just barely edges out the nuge by virtue of a) the whole First Slovak thing (see nico) and b) his new and upcoming beef with the slovak federation??? what's all that about because THAT'S juice. THAT'S spark. slaf's great because not only are his little circumstances compelling but he's also got such a Personality to him. his little rockstar attitude. his little braces. I will show him where is Slovakia. yessss girl

13. rasmus dahlin (2018). im a dahlin attention payer so he's probably higher than he "should" be but CAPTAIN OF THE BUFFALO SABRES I AM SO SORRY.

12. erik johnson (2006) hugely fascinated by his fall from grace via golf cart, which is not a route most people take. and then of course he was a crucial emotional crux of the avs up until their 2022 run and in my belief a much more important part of their fall from grace post-run than whatever landeskog is doing. and of course any flyer is relevant by nature

11. jack hughes (2019) you cannot deny the hughes are interesting narratively because they are important. he's not as interesting or as important as quinn though so obviously not as high on the list as he might have otherwise been

10. taylor hall (2010) actually super interesting because he has, throughout his entire career, been on one (1) good team (the 2022-23 boston bruins). he has a hart trophy!!! you guys know he has a fucking hart trophy right???? while they were drafting davo et al, he was an oiler. while they were drafting nico, he was a devil, while they were drafting owen, he was a sabre, and when they drafted connor bedard he was a blackhawk. always the bridesmaid, never the bride

9. steven stamkos (2008). there's always something to be said for waiting a long time to get what you want. and then once that goal's been accomplished, they throw you out.

8. connor bedard (2023) Let's Get Generational With It

7. john tavares (2009) brief let's un-get generational with it to talk about mr magic amulet breaking TWO entire playoff round curses as captain, twice. about him choosing toronto. about Him

6. auston matthews (2016) what if you were a vain shy arizona boy who wanted nothing more than to be a star and then they gave it to you and then you immediately had to learn that it's not nearly as good as you thought it was going to be. and you were actually kind of gay the whole time (im biased. this is cody sergeifyodorov's immense toronto bias. be normal)

5. patrick kane (2007)

4. marc-andre fleury (2003) the whole saga of him in pittsburgh AND the whole saga of him in vegas AND the whole saga of him in minnesota (and the brief intermission when he was in chicago) are all massive narrative moments of their own, but to have all of them? to be a goaltender that lucky and that loved for that long? it's not done. it will never be done again.

3. connor mcdavid (2015) I Love It When The Ginger Man Suffers

2. alexander ovechkin (2004) you know i could write essays on ovi. i could write dissertations. people have already done so -- i would not be the first and will not be the last if i join their ranks. i could take about the goals and the record chase. i could talk about the way he's been juxtaposed against the guy who you really should have known going in was going to be number one for his whole career. i could talk about the hunt for 2018, and the long, long time they said he was useless, no matter the record. but i will say after me. after me, i give it to you, baby.

sidney crosby (2005). obviously

[flos-obsessivus]

IVE WAITING FOR SO LONG SRBWODNODBWW SINCE THE BLOG STARTED I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE MY BOY LILIAN FKWHEOBEOWBW TY U FOR CREATING THIS MASTERPIECE RAHHHHHHH🦖

excuse my un-lady like behaviour but would you please grace me with the answers to "dirty secret" and "stamina" 🥰

Thank you! It's about time I make nsfw about this baby boy haha!

WARNING: NSFW ALPHABET

Dirty secret found here!

Stamina: How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?

If it’s him fucking you it’s about 2 rounds normally, overstimulated though, 5 rounds before he passes out. However if it’s about giving oral, give or take about… the whole fucking night. The poor guy would definitely love being under you 24/7 if it wasn’t for his duties as the crown prince.

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 6th: Crush | You Could Start A Cult - Niall Horan | Sincere a/n: steddie, pining, post-s4. un-betaed because I’m challenging myself to write these in under an hour. read on ao3 | link to masterpost on ao3

A crush is called a crush for a reason, and Eddie Munson is learning this lesson the hard way. 

The very hard way. 

The Jesus Christ, all he did was laugh at my stupid joke and I’m going to collapse in on myself like a dying star kind of way. 

It’s been nearly a year of this and Eddie feels like he’s being squashed beneath the weight of the giant boulder that is his crush on Steve Harrington. A solid year of his hopeless, pointless, wonderful crush on Steve Harrington. 

Everyone knows– well, everyone above the age of 16 has figured it out at least. Eddie isn’t exactly known for his subtlety, after all. 

Jeff, Gareth, and Freak had their reservations at the start after years of being persecuted by the same genre of person Steve had been in high school but once Eddie spun them the tale of how Steve carried out from beneath the rubble of a collapsed building, they’d come around. Jeff took the longest, finally acquiescing  after properly meeting Steve.

You were always into jocks, dude, c’mon. Sounds like this one might have some redeemable qualities at least. 

He couldn’t quite tell them the actual truth, but it’s truth-adjacent and does the job. It paints Steve as the hero Eddie knows him to be, whether Steve wants to acknowledge the title or not. 

Robin knew before they’d even gone back into the Upside Down, before Eddie nearly died in Dustin’s arms and then again, in Steve’s. 

I was there when you called him Big Boy, Munson. You’re not subtle. He’s just oblivious. 

Nancy figured it out when Eddie was in the hospital, still a little loopy from painkillers and who knows what else. 

You were on another planet and couldn’t stop talking about his chest hair, Eddie. 

Argyle knew on sight the first time he saw Eddie with Steve. It was a little spooky, actually, how on the nose he was about two people he barely knew but on the nose, he was. 

You’re the only one callin’ him Stevie, brochacho. And he’s the only one calling you Ed so… take that for what it’s worth. 

Jonathan knew because Argyle knew and Jonathan and Argyle seem to have something there, too, but that’s none of Eddie’s business. All of the unrequited love bandwidth he has is tied up in Steve, and his smile, and his way with the kids, and his cologne– 

“You got something on your face.” 

Robin nudges him in the side behind the kitchen counter where he’s been leaning, watching helplessly through the kitchen window as Steve grills another round of burgers going for their We Lived And Can’t Tell The Tale Because We All Signed NDAs party starting soon. 

Eddie wipes his face frantically, hoping he didn’t have ketchup or something on his cheek from Steve’s trial run of the burgers. He pulls his hand back to find nothing besides Robin grinning, bemused and pitying all the same when it clicks.

“I’m not actually drooling. Just… metaphorically. God, let me cling to some shred of dignity here.” 

Steve flips another burger, this one landing square right-side-up. Eddie groans, Robin rolls her eyes, and he laments. 

“What the fuck is wrong with me that that’s so hot? He’s not doing anything special! He’s just existing in those too-tight jeans and plain tee shirt and I’m ready to lay waste to the evils of the world to get to him. And they say I’m the cult leader? I’d follow this asshole into the bowels of Hell.” Eddie sighs and drops his head back to stare at the ceiling.

It’s offensive, honestly, the popcorn ceiling and the way it mocks him. 

“I mean, you kinda already did.” Robin shrugs and bumps her shoulder into his, somehow softer than her initial nudge. “And look, it’s not my business, but I think you might be surprised if you talked to him. He’s not the same he was when he said all that shit to Jonathan, y’know.” 

Eddie whips to the side, too quickly as his head spins for a brief moment. He searches her eyes for hints or a glimmer of hope. Something. Anything. 

“What do you know, Buckley?” It’s less a question and more a statement. 

“I don’t know a damn thing, other than a conversation might do you both some good. But look,” Robin sighs and hops up to sit on the island next to Eddie as he turns his attention back to Steve manning the grill. He’s trying not to stare at the way Steve twirls the spatula… and failing, of course. How are his hands so big? 

“Hello? Munson, Earth to heart-eyes over there. This is information you might really want to listen to.” Robin waves a hand in front of his face and he jolts out of his thoughts. It’s for the best– the second he gets lost in Steve’s hands, it’s all over for him. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m listening.” Eddie responds, vaguely reminded of his many years in school. 

“I was saying, Steve’s a good guy. The best guy, really. And I know he’s acted fine with being single the last year or so, but he’s lonely behind that facade. So if this is just like, a crush that’s gonna pass, keep it to yourself. But if you really like him, if you wanna like, be with him, then yeah. I think you might want to talk to him.” 

Eddie considers his feelings for a long moment, staring back out the window. This time, he watches Steve at the grill and sees so much more than a guy in too-tight jeans and a plain tee shirt flipping burgers. He sees jumping into the lake, rushing through the Upside Down, finding a quiet moment in the chaos traipsing through the Upside Down’s version of the woods. He sees what little he remembers of bleeding out and being carried by Steve through the portal, of waking up in the hospital, handcuffed to the bed and Steve sitting in the corner with Wayne. He sees every fleeting moment, every soft touch, every nickname and split joint and pizza with half pepperoni and half bacon. 

He looks out the window at Steve and sees his life. 

Maybe the weight of his crush has only felt so heavy in the way that holding your arms out for too long begins to feel heavy.  Maybe the forced, sustained tension would be relieved if he just let himself relax. 

“I’m with him already, for better or worse.”

Robin hums in acknowledgement before breaking into laughter as they both watch Steve transfer the burgers to a plate, only to accidentally knock the dish off the side of the grill. He must hear their laughter because his eyes shoot directly to the window and he points the spatula at them, free hand on his hip. “It’s not fucking funny, now I have to go to the store!” 

“It’ll probably be for the worse.” Robin looks at him and raises an eyebrow. 

Eddie just laughs and shakes his head, tendrils of hair falling into his face that he pulls further across his mouth. 

“Worth it.”