#this is dumb but this is what i struggle with when writing

[p1girlfriend]

how the grid shows love — acts of service version

Lando Norris – washes your favorite hoodie and leaves it on your pillow – plugs your phone in every night without saying a word – buys your period products “just in case” and stocks the bathroom like it’s a shrine – "I didn’t know what snacks you’d want so I got one of everything.” – gets real quiet when you’re overwhelmed, and just starts doing stuff around the house so you can rest – “it’s no big deal. you’d do it for me.”

—

Oscar Piastri – the king of tiny, meaningful routines – makes your coffee exactly the way you like it. Every. Single. Morning. – adjusts your car seat before you get in – notices when you’re cold and quietly sets a hoodie on your lap – answers your emails if you’re stressed. like, literally types them out for you – “you didn’t ask, but I figured it would help.”

—

Charles Leclerc – he can’t cook to save his life but he’ll clean everything for you – does the dishes while humming your favorite song – packs your bag if you have to travel: always includes your charger and a note – “I didn’t know if you needed help, but I wanted to anyway.” – reorganizes your closet by color because he saw it on pinterest – makes your bed every day and fluffs the pillows like it’s an art

—

Lewis Hamilton – plans your wellness like a pro – books your therapy appointment, sets up a diffuser, leaves fresh flowers with a note – “Don’t forget to rest today. You deserve it.” – builds you a playlist when you’re going through it – if you’re sick, you’ll wake up to teas, soups, vitamins, and a hot water bottle already there – treats acts of service like sacred care – “loving you means protecting your energy, too.”

—

Carlos Sainz – this man lives for doing things for you – oils your scalp. carries your bags. opens every door. – sees you struggling with something and it’s DONE within minutes – “you are not lifting that. give it to me.” – teaches you how to do stuff but still does it for you because he likes taking care of you – sneaks out early to fill your gas tank – always keeps water and your favorite gum in the car because he remembers everything

—

Max Verstappen – very quiet acts. barely says anything, just does it – you mention you’re tired of your broken closet door? it’s fixed the next day – changes your tires without being asked – “I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.” – lets you sleep in and does all the housework while blasting music and feeding the pets – no fuss, no show — just pure, consistent devotion

—

Daniel Ricciardo – makes you breakfast with silly little heart-shaped pancakes – decorates your work desk with random things that make you smile – sings while doing your laundry. tells your shampoo “you’re lucky to touch her hair” – writes dumb love notes and puts them in your sock drawer – full of chaotic energy but so intentional: “You were overwhelmed, so I did the boring stuff. You owe me cuddles.” – will do anything to make you laugh AND make your day easier

—

Lance Stroll – acts of service are quiet love with him – folds your sweaters neatly – updates your calendar for you when you’re too tired – cleans your jewelry, resets your alarms, zips your dress slowly like he’s painting a masterpiece – doesn’t always say how much he loves you but he shows it in every action – “You don’t have to ask, sweetheart. I already knew.”

—

Gabriel Bortoleto – techy acts of service king – updates your apps, fixes your laptop, organizes your desktop folders for fun – orders food when you forget to eat – starts calling places for you when you’re too anxious to deal – leaves you little lists like: “Water. Sunscreen. Breathe. (Love you.)” – makes your life feel ten times lighter without making it a thing

—

Franco Colapinto – builds your IKEA furniture. with NO instructions. – wraps your gifts better than anyone – remembers tiny things you said once and surprises you with them – helps your parents without being asked – if you’re working late, he brings you snacks and kisses your forehead “Don’t forget you’re human, mi amor. Take five.”

©p1girlfriend | requested

[vanityangel]

[impishjesters]

Hello!! I saw your post for K-pop demon hunters and I was wondering if you would write something for baby saja?

Maybe just how him and reader meet at the market. I give full creative control I don’t usually do request so not sure what to ask. But I love you works and the way you write! Thank you if you don’t do this it’s chill <3

Meeting Baby Saja at the store

CW(s): none A/N: I went into writing so confidently and immediately crashed out, this isn't great, but I'm still gonna post it ;w; Also my brain forgot how to English and I mistook market as store, I'm pretty sure you meant when the Saja boys first showed up (like in the gif), my bad...

If someone told you that your sudden trip to the nearest store would result in you getting to meet one of the Saja boys, you’d have called them a liar. What would one of them be doing here?

Shopping, of course. It’s a store…

And if that person said that a Saja boy would take an interest in you? You’d call them delusional.

What you didn’t expect was for it to be Baby. At first, you almost didn’t even recognize him with the hood pulled up over his head and the colour palette change in his clothing. And by the looks of things, he was struggling to pick between several different types of ramyeon.

Trying not to be a creep about it, you watch Baby struggle, his eye twitching like he’s trying to contain his irritation. You take a quick glance around and find the aisle empty aside from the two of you, and in the hardest attempt to stay completely normal, you approach him.

Too invested in the packs of ramyeon in front of him, Baby doesn’t seem to notice your approach until you clear your throat to catch his attention. Any hints of irritation on his face are immediately gone, and that iconic, cute baby face smile is directed at you. His mouth opens to greet you, but you’re faster and point at the packs of ramyeon in his hands.

“If you’re looking for spicy ramyeon, that one’s not very spicy. I suggest this one.”

Baby watches closely as you grab a different pack of ramyeon from the shelf and hold it out to him. “You like spicy stuff, right?” It’s a dumb question, you know he does. You’ve seen the hot sauce chugging contest the Saja boys took part in. Even thinking about it gives you heartburn… eugh…

“Mhm.” He hums in reply, the deep tone sending chills down your spine, and returns the packs in his hand to the shelf before taking the one from your hand. “I don’t think I’ve tried this one before.” Baby eyes the packaging before turning his attention back to you.

You swallow almost nervously, struggling to maintain eye contact before using the packs of ramyeon as a distraction. “Aha! Yeah, there are so many brands.” You chuckle nervously, eyes scanning the packets before you grab another one. “I’ve heard this brand is good too.”

Unseen to you, the corner of Baby’s mouth turns up slightly, a brief smirk on his mouth before it disappears into his usual cutesy smile. “Oh? Do you like spicy stuff too?” He asks, leaning closer to you, almost shoulder to shoulder as he eyes the brand in your hand.

He watches your nose scrunch up cutely at the question, telling him all he needed to know.

“I don’t hate it.” You murmur, having yet to process how close the idol is to you. “My spice tolerance is fairly low… I get heartburn.” You confess.

Baby lets out a small snicker too close to your ear, and that’s when you realize just how close he is. He watches you death grip the poor ramyeon in your hand, plastic crinkling just barely loud enough to cover up the sound of you breaking the brick of noodles. Just as quick as before, the smirk comes and goes.

He’s had fans act similarly before, but on a much grander scale. Other people would’ve come up to him, asking for photos or autographs—which was okay—before quickly getting on his nerves. Baby doesn’t remember fans getting on his nerves in the past, but you? He can smell the excitement and anxiety just rolling off of you, and he can’t help but almost commend your strength to try and play it cool.

Which you’re failing to do, truthfully…

Deciding to play nice, Baby takes the now broken pack of ramyeon from your hand and gives the pack a gentle wiggle. The two halves of noodles cause the bag to flop slightly with each movement. “Any other good ones?”

You cringe at the noise the package makes, a pang of guilt hitting you at the broken noodles. At least it’s still edible. Thankful for the breathing room, your shoulders relaxed a little more at the question, grateful to pass over this embarrassing little moment. “Oh, um…”

Turning your attention back to the various brands of ramyeon, you idly point out a few that were supposedly good. “People on social media seem to agree that this one is super spicy. There’s a trend of people trying to use the whole sauce packet without needing cheese or milk to try and combat the spice.” You cringe again, staring at the package. “Which is pretty stupid in my opinion, I don’t see the fun in feeling like you’re dying from spicy foods.” You quietly tack on.

Baby’s shoulders briefly rise up and down with a silent laugh before tossing the two packs of ramyeons he had in his hands into your empty basket. He watches your eyes quickly focus on the basket before looking up at him, and he gives you a quick pout. “I didn’t grab a basket, I’ll buy it. Promise.” In truth, Baby tossed the items into your basket as an excuse to keep you close by; you’ve caught his interest after all.

He watches you scrunch your nose cutely again and quickly plucks a few of the rameyons you recommended and tosses them into the basket to avoid letting you try to get away, not that it seemed like you would.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes for some reason, a small smile finding its way on your lips. “Fine…”

Baby grabs a few other packs of noodles in varying spice levels and tosses them into your basket; you can only assume it’s for the other Saja boys. He throws in a pack of ramyeon that on the surface doesn’t look spicy, but you know better, and there’s a sneaking suspicion that’s the intention.

You almost feel bad for whoever eats those. Almost.

Not wanting to part just yet, Baby quickly pulls together a plan to borrow more of your time. He places his arm behind your back, just shy of touching you, as he gently herds you to start walking. “Mind helping me find a few other snacks?”

[peachhcs]

moments on the ring 3

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

summary: back for it's 3rd installment, the ring camera captures the ups, the downs, and everything in between in samy and will's relationship

words: 6.4k

author's note: i couldn't help writing a 3rd part, so here it is! can be read as a standalone, but check out parts 1 and 2 as well! i've had this in my drafts for soo long and it's finally done! lowkk hitting some writer's block, so i'm trying to write through it (also i officially have a color theme for every au now!)

au masterlist | part 1 | part 2

WINTER OF SAMY AND WILL'S SENIOR YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL

gabe followed will onto the porch after watching the bonde stay silent for almost the entirety of dinner and then after when they played some video games with luke and jack. he immediately knew something was up, so gabe didn't hesitate to go after him to figure out what was wrong. the dark-haired boy watched the way will leaned up against the support beam, will's gaze and mind elsewhere as he glanced at the sky. gabe copied his actions and leaned across from him on the other support beam.

"what's up with you?" gabe spoke first because he knew will wouldn't.

"what do you mean?" the blonde played dumb even though they both knew why gabe was out there with him and why he'd been so spacey lately.

"dude, come on. don't play stupid. you're being all weird," gabe told it like it was and will flushed that his friend could call him out so quickly.

"i'm not being weird."

his response pissed gabe off so he continued, "will. you've been acting weird like all week and now you're being super weird by not talking at all at dinner or playing video games with us. i know something's wrong."

there was a painful silence while will struggled to find the words he wanted to say.

the whole liking samy thing was something that continuously plagued will's mind. it'd only gotten stronger since the feelings began back in september and it was kind of freaking will out. this girl was supposed to be his best friend who he saw an an annoying sister because that's what she was for the past 17 years but now all will could think about was how pretty she was and how jealous he got whenever she brought up other guys she was interested in (that would never be him.) when she broke up with kevin the hockey player was quite thrilled, but unfortunately she kept proving to him that they would only ever be just friends. samy teased will like she did with her bothers and while he was used to it, he wished so badly that it meant more to her, or that he could tell her it meant more to him.

the problem was he wouldn't ever though. will and samy were firm on one thing and that was their friendship. that mattered a lot more to either of them, so will was not putting himself in a place to jeopardize that. it was just getting so hard when he couldn't stop thinking about kissing her anytime he saw her. it really put a dent in will's mind.

gabe still didn't know that will liked her. neither of the guys did. he was scared to tell them in fear that they'd accidentally tell her because that was something they'd definitely do. not that samy would believe them though. the whole liking his best friend thing was pretty new territory that he didn't quite understand still, so telling other people felt like something that wouldn't go over well if he didn't even understand it himself.

will still didn't say anything after a long, painful silence. gabe looked his way, an expression that read something like "tell me or we're not leaving this porch until you do." the dark-haired boy totally would too. he knew getting stuff like this out of will was never easy.

will read the expression easily. he flushed, feeling embarrassed and kind of pathetic that the girl all of the guys teased him about for the last year was now someone will actually couldn't stop thinking about after denying it. what if gabe laughed at him? or worse, rubbed it in his face that they were right all along?

"how about i take a guess then? is it about samy?" gabe finally asked when they weren't getting anywhere.

will's head had never shot up so fast before. a look of horror and shock crossed the blonde's features and gabe just smiled knowing he was right.

"you like her, don't you?" gabe continued.

will was speechless. it took gabe all of seven minutes to guess his friend's deepest worry at the moment. he didn't even know what to say to that.

"how did you know?" the boy finally uttered.

"it's kind of obvious," gabe shrugged.

another look of horror crossed will's face, "i'm that obvious?!"

"i mean, yeah...kind of. i knew something was up with you two after you came back from that "seven minutes in heaven" shit back in april," gabe laughed and that was such an old memory in will's mind. that was definitely the moment there was something changing between him and samy because will thought about that kiss for weeks after. he'd never kissed someone like that before.

"you knew back then?"

"i hate to break it to you, but it was always obvious back then. why do you think we tease you all the time? you're fucking obsessed with her, smitty. we figured there might've been something going on, but then we didn't know anymore when she started talking to kevin. after homecoming though, i definitely knew there was something going on when we talked about it kind of. i could tell," this was such news to will. he never once thought he was obvious about his feelings, but maybe he really was after hearing what gabe said.

"shit..i didn't know you picked up on that. i thought i was being discreet. what else do you know?" the blonde flushed in embarrassment.

"i know you two made out many times after that time in april. you always had some sort of lip-gloss on your lips after," the dark-haired boy laughed and will couldn't feel more embarrassed. no wonder why people stared at him whenever him and samy emerged. to them, it probably looked like they went to town in that bathroom.

god, how embarrassing.

"we don't do that anymore, by the way. we stopped when she started talking to kevin," will thought he needed to clarify that.

"i'm glad you don't instigate cheating," gabe smirked and will rolled his eyes. if he was so obvious, he wondered if everyone else knew.

another wave of horror washed through the boy at the idea of samy knowing. how could she not know if everyone else seemed to notice his feelings? what if she did and she was just strangling him along? god, that'd be even worse than what gabe just revealed. "wait, does samy know?" will let the question slip.

"well, you're painfully obvious to everyone but yourselves. she's as oblivious as ever, so i think you're fine," gabe chuckled.

a bit of relief flooded through the hockey player's chest but then he was confused again, "painfully obvious to everyone but ourselves? does she like me too?"

when gabe hesitated will's heart soared at the possible hope that samy felt something towards him, but that joy didn't last long when gabe shrugged a moment later, "i don't know. she's a bit less obvious and it's hard to gauge when she just has a flirty personality in general."

will frowned. he was really hoping gabe knew something more than he did. he tried not to look too disappointed, but he must've anyway because gabe frowned too. the blonde sunk down to the steps, his head falling into his hands to try and deal with all of the thoughts running through his mind. gabe was quick to join his side and offer his comfort.

he didn't tease as he asked, "how long have you liked her for?"

"probably homecoming. maybe a little before? i don't know," will shrugged.

"what do you think changed?"

"there was just something that switched i guess. she wasn't some annoying sister anymore, but someone i wanted to spend all my time with. i hated seeing her with kevin and he knew i liked her and tried to make me mad any chance he could because of it. he wanted to make me jealous and it worked because i punched him. i can't stop thinking about her either. she like consumes my mind 24/7," will rambled on a bit with some frustration laced in his voice that he was even thinking these things yet he couldn't do anything about it.

"what's stopping you from just telling her?" gabe wondered and will looked at his friend like he was crazy.

"i could lose her as a friend because she doesn't feel the same way? i ruin our friendship? i make things awkward for our families for the rest of our lives?" will thought it was so obvious why he couldn't tell her.

"i don't think samy's the kind of person to let that happen though."

"i'm not risking it. i can't," the boy shook his head.

"so what then? you're gonna let these feelings consume you for the rest of time?" that didn't sound appealing to either of them. will frowned.

"until i can get over them and then let it go and never think about it ever again," he said it like it was easy and gabe snorted.

"yeah, right. this shit's gonna tear you apart. i mean look at yourself. you're a mess."

"okay, rude. what else am i supposed to do? she's my best friend, gabe. i can't lose that. i'd rather let this tear me apart than lose her completely."

the boys fell quiet again as will's words hung in the air. he would be putting a lot on the line if he confessed his feelings to the girl inside and there was no way the hockey player was in the right headspace to risk their entire 17-year friendship for some silly feelings. he didn't even know if it was feelings because everyone was telling him to have them after the endless years of teasing or if they were actually real.

"okay, i get it. it's scary liking your best friend. i wouldn't wanna risk that either. just try not to let it consume you too much though, okay? we miss the old you," gabe nudged will's shoulder. the blonde rolled his eyes again.

"the old me? i'm still me."

"yeah, sure. the you that's head over heels for his best friend," the teasing would never end. gabe helped will back up, patting his shoulders as a way of saying it would be okay.

before they could go back in though, the door opened and samy stuck her head out. she raised her eyebrows seeing the two out there together, "you two making out without me?" she teased them.

gabe gave her the finger while will just flushed, "funny, hughes. you wish."

samy giggled as the dark-haired boy ruffled her hair as he stepped around her to get back inside. she glanced at will, a wondering look in her eyes as he came in too. "you okay?"

"yeah, all good," he put on his best smile for her.

she seemed to believe it because she skipped back into the living room where everyone was. will sighed, but followed after her where he'd spend the rest of the night pretending like everything was okay.

little did he know, the ring camera captured the entire conversation that would quickly become a memory down the road that marked the first time will admitted his feelings for samy. she would 100% tease him about it when they were finally together and poke him for how cute and shy he was about it when they were younger.

SPRING OF SAMY AND WILL'S SENIOR YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL

samy watched from the porch as will loaded the car up with the last of his things for nationals. him and the u18s were off the switzerland for whole week to participate in the championships while samy stayed behind in michigan. it was the one tournament she couldn't make it to with it being the last few weeks of her senior year and finals she needed to wrap up before graduation.

at least will would be back in time to watch her graduate. the two found each other's glance and a soft smile sat on samy's lips as the blonde walked back up to the porch. "all packed?" the girl wondered.

"yup, that should be everything," will nodded as he looked back at the car. samy was trying to keep a brave face so she didn't start crying. having this separation anxiety from will was a bit new to her because she's never had it before, but the anxieties of being away from him for a week was consuming her brain. she tried not to let it show.

will was really good at reading her though, "you okay?" he wondered when he read into her.

"i think this is the first tournament i won't be there for," samy frowned.

"wow, yeah. that feels weird," the boy laughed lightly mostly trying to keep the mood light.

"tell me about it. you're gonna do great though. i'll watch all of the streams and we can talk about it over text. are you nervous?" samy's way of directing the feelings off of her was to put them on someone else.

"a little, yeah. i mean this is the moment we've been working to all year. it never feels real," will hummed.

"save a puck for me?" the girl beamed and she blushed when will wrapped his arms around her in response.

they held each other tightly, the hug turning more into a tight hold like they never wanted to let go. samy pressed her cheek against will's chest where she listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat to calm her down. will could feel the way she relaxed in his arms and it warmed his heart knowing he could calm her down like this. he pressed his own cheek into her head and they stayed like that for a long time. maybe will had some slight separation anxiety too because the idea of samy not being in the stands watching kind of messed with his head a bit.

she was his good luck charm. what would be do without her? what if they lost because she wasn't there watching him and he couldn't look up at her whenever he was feeling nervous.

"i'll be back in like ten days. it'll go fast," will pulled back a bit, mostly because he wanted to admire her face.

"that's a long time," samy mumbled. she was trying really hard not to cry.

"i know, but ill be back for your graduation," the boy tried looking on the bright side.

"and then you leave again for the nhl combine," the girl was feeling a bit more negative though.

"you'll be in nashville with me for the draft, but we'll get through this," will nodded assuredly. if someone was walking by, they'd definitely think samy and will were a couple saying goodbye to each other because they honestly looked the part.

just best friends though.

just best friends who had crazy feelings for each other that they refused to admit out loud.

"call me and text me every single day," samy said and will laughed.

"i promise, i will. have fun at your last few weeks of school."

their gazes met and for a split second the thought of kissing crossed each of their minds unknowingly, but neither of them made a move. they couldn't. instead, will settled for brushing her hair away from her face and wiping away a few of the tears that slipped down samy's cheeks.

colleen came out of the door a second later. the two broke apart, deep blushes coating their cheeks, but will's mom didn't say anything.

"you ready to go?" she asked will. the boy nodded.

"i think so."

samy let will go as he carefully walked down the steps. she leaned against the railing, watching him wave to her as he climbed into the passenger seat. the door swung open again and ellen came out. she reached her hands around her daughter's shoulders as the two of them watched will and colleen pull out of the driveway.

"did you wish him luck?" ellen wondered.

"yeah, i did," samy smiled.

the older woman squeezed her shoulders before disappearing back inside once the car was out of sight. samy lingered for another moment, remembering what it was like to have will's arms around her like that. she blushed at the thought. the younger hughes spun on her heel to go back inside when her gaze caught sight of the ring camera that caught the entire goodbye. she smiled at it and bent down a bit to talk into it.

"ten days. i can do ten days," she said like she wanted the reassurance.

samy did that for every day will was away, mostly to keep herself sane and so she knew how long he'd been gone for.

when his mom's familiar suv pulled into the driveway samy was already racing out of the door to greet him. the car wasn't even parked when will flew out of his seat to lift her into his arms and spin her around in a tight, loving hold. he wore a proud smile on his lips when samy began mumbling about how happy she was for him and how proud she was.

"i'm so, so proud of you, will. you did great out there. i knew you were gonna win it all," the brunette cheered. will put her down, but his hands didn't leave her waist. they were too caught up in the moment to realize how dangerously close they were to one another.

"i wish you were there, though. would've been so much better if you were. i got in my head at the end and they sent me to the box. god, i was so scared they'd fuck it all up," will rambled. samy found it endearing, but she grounded him by squeezing his cheeks so he'd stop to take a breath.

"the refs were such shit, but hey, it's over now. you won! you have a gold fucking medal!" samy exclaimed and she loved the way his face heated up.

colleen got out of the car, a knowing look on her face when she saw the two standing together. she didn't say anything, but she already knew when will was begging to go to the house to see samy as soon as they landed back in the states. ellen came outside a moment later and that's when the two finally pulled apart when they realized how close they were and what it seemed like.

"congrats, will. you played well," ellen hugged the boy too. the blonde grinned as he hugged her back.

once the pleasantries were exchanged, samy dragged will inside so she could see his medal up close and they could continue debriefing the final game. the ring camera captured the soft smiles on their lips as they passed and the way samy hung onto the boy like she was afraid to let go of him.

FALL OF SAMY AND WILL'S FRESHMAN YEAR OF COLLEGE

it was hard to admit but college was hard. for the past few weeks, will was in a slump. his playing felt off, the coaches were extra hard, and the games...god the games. they were winning, sure, but will had never felt more drained. it was the same routine over and over and over—he'd get up, go to class, have a hellish practice right after and then he had to study and do his homework for hours until he physically couldn't keep his eyes open.

on the outside, the boston freshman was excelling in every area. he was dominating the other rookies and people were really starting to talk about him. it was great, but will didn't feel great on the inside. playing nonstop games in dev was one thing, but at a collegiate level with 22-year old guys that pushed him into the boards more often than not, it was wearing him down.

the worst part of the whole thing? will really really missed samy. her being back in michigan living her own busy schedule made communication a bit sparse and hard to keep up with. they practiced at different times so it felt impossible finding a time to facetime. will could maybe catch her after practice in the morning on her walk to class, but even then, sometimes she was too busy to call. the boy knew how busy they were, but it hurt a bit more than he liked when they went from talking almost every second of the day to once if they were lucky. he missed seeing her at the games. he missed her waiting for him after a game. he just missed her.

the boys were starting to notice too. will's game became sluggish and skating felt like running through quicksand. he missed goals he should've gotten. fowler accidentally whacked him in the arm when will wasn't paying attention by the goal. the star freshman was falling apart at the seams and the guys were scrambling to hopefully make it better.

throwing a party was the absolutely last thing on will's mind that would make him feel better, but everyone insisted. plus, it was a great way to leave a good impression on the campus, so it was saturday night and the freshman hockey house was packed. guys will had never met before filled in and out of the rooms, random girls tried talking to him, and it was just not what he was in the mood for. he thought about samy the whole time and kept looking at his lock screen like it would just teleport her there. maybe he would've liked the party if she was at his side and he could show her off to all of his teammates and boston students, but instead he was stuck with shooing off random girls that wanted to talk to him.

will escaped outisde for some fresh air. he sunk onto the steps, setting his cup of vodka and lemonade down because he wasn't even in the mood to get drunk. it would just make him more upset about samy not being there. ryan ended up following his friend outside when he noticed will's lack of presence.

"you okay, man?" ryan shut the door so the noise inside muffled itself.

"yeah, fine."

the brunette joined him on the steps.

"what do you think of the party? i had no idea this many people would show up," ryan laughed and will shrugged.

"yeah. it's big."

his responses were dry and no matter how hard ryan tried lifting the mood, he just couldn't.

"dude, i know you've been having a hard time being away from samy, but the sulking..it's kind of killing the mood.."

will's head whipped so fast in ryan's direction, "dude. what the fuck?"

"i'm just saying.." ryan shrugged.

"i'm sorry i miss my girlfriend because she's in a completely different state and we hardly get to talk anymore. at least your girlfriend is just a drive away!" will got angry which caught both of them off guard, but ryan wasn't offended. not when there was a surprise waiting for his friend on the other side of the door.

the guys ran through every possible idea that could lift will's spirits and after realizing samy was the only person that could, they called her and begged her to fly out for the weekend. she was on board almost immediately and now she was on the other end of the door giggling at her boyfriend's sour mood.

"jeez, okay. sorry. sorry. i get it. it's hard. i'm sorry, man. i may have something that might make you feel better though," ryan grinned and will grew confused. if he was about to suggest shots..

he watched as ryan went to the door again and that smile on his lips made it seem like he was up to something. the blonde watched curiously as the door was pulled open and a very familiar face stuck her head through.

it felt like time went in slow motion when will realized who it was. first, his eyes widened and then his instincts kicked in as he sprung up and took in his girlfriend standing five feet in front of him.

"hey, will," samy giggled.

he was on her a second later. his arms around her torso and his face in the crook of her neck as he breathed in her familiar scent of home. she couldn't stop giggling and both ryan and gabe were recording while everyone else was standing at the doorway watching the sweet exchange.

"i missed you so, so much," the hockey player muttered into her skin. he basically melted into her, his weight deadening the longer he stood in her arms.

"i missed you too," samy pulled back much to the boy's dismay so she could see his face. his gaze had softened since talking to ryan and he just looked like he could cry right in front of her. he looked so sweet to her as she reached up to drag her nails through his messy hair.

"how'd you get here? don't you have practice?" the blonde wondered and the girl shrugged.

"yeah, but what's one day? ryan and gabe called me. said you were sad and needed to see me," she giggled again and he finally looked up at his friends still staring and watching them reunite.

"surprise!" ryan cheered, finally stuffing his phone away.

"i've never kept a surprise like that before," gabe laughed as well and the others nodded in agreement. will couldn't believe his friends planned something like this for him.

"sorry i got a little mean on you, smitty. i couldn't have you suspecting anything," ryan chuckled and the blonde rolled his eyes. samy went to hug the other boys while will thanked them for pulling off the surprise.

"thanks for getting her here," he said to ryan and gabe. the two boys smiled and shrugged like it wasn't a big deal.

"we hated seeing you so down, so we figured what's the next best thing?" gabe patted his friend's shoulder and will smiled back.

he looked back to where samy was now hugging and greeting drew and aram. both boys had wide smiles on their faces as the girl asked how they were. everyone's spirits felt lifted now that the youngest hughes was back and maybe it was just what all of them needed. she was their best friend too and after spending two years together, will may have not realized how much they'd miss her too.

"thank you. i owe you," will looked back at gabe and ryan.

"don't mention it," ryan chuckled before going to join in with the welcoming.

"so should i expect to bunk with drew and ryan tonight?" gabe teased. will's cheeks heated up into a deep crimson, shoving his friend for that comment. "shut up," he mumbled.

"what? i'm just saying. i'll bother them to sleep in their room," the dark-haired boy winked before also joining the bigger conversation.

will hung back for another moment just taking it all in. samy's back was to him, but he could hear the smile in her voice as she talked with his hockey friends that were as much as her friends too. his smile had never been bigger.

he joined the group, wrapping an arm around samy's waist and she subconsciously leaned into him while still talking with drew and aram. will pressed a soft kiss to her head, not wanting to interrupt, but wanting her to know he was there.

the freshman house ring camera that will insisted they installed captured the sweet moment between all of them, now becoming a memory they could look back on forever.

SPRING OF SAMY AND WILL'S SENIOR YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL. 

it was a bit colder for a late afternoon in april, but michigan was known for having bipolar weather the closer summer got. samy was on her porch doing work on her computer when a car pulled into the driveway. she recognized it as gabe's because his mom drove an old prius and that was the car that pulled in behind hers. she smiled watching the dark-haired boy step out and wave as he walked up the driveway. 

"hey stranger," samy pushed her laptop closed for the moment. 

"hey hughesy. sorry for randomly dropping by, but we're starting to pack some of the house up and i remembered i had things i've left here," gabe explained his presence and the girl quickly chuckled. 

"ah, right. i'll inside to help you find it," she got up from her seat and led the boy inside. 

over the past two years, a lot of the boys' things collected at her house after hangouts, parties, whatever. she figured they'd come back for them when they remembered, so there was a massive pile in her basement of all of their things. it was sad though. with it being april, the hockey season was almost over and that meant the boys were going to be moving away from michigan for college. almost all of them were going to boston while samy was staying in ann arbor and as happy as she was for them, it was sad that they wouldn't be a 15 minute drive away anymore and their weekly hangouts would become every few month reunions. 

"damn, that's a lot of stuff," gabe mumbled when he saw the pile in the corner of the room. samy laughed. 

"yeah, you guys have a lot of shit. you better tell the rest of them to stop by so they can get it," there was an old hockey stick, a handful of clothes, hockey skates, board games and samy had no idea who it all belonged to. 

gabe picked through the pile. the old stick was his and almost half of the sweatshirts were his because he had a habit of taking them off and then never picking them back up when he left. there was a shot glass that was his he got in one of country's he played in last year. the boy flushed when he realized her had two handfuls of things. 

"shit, sorry. i didn't know half of this was mine," the boy chuckled. 

"want help getting it out to the car?" samy wondered and gabe nodded, so she took his one pile and followed him back outside. 

once it was all in, samy invited him to hang out for a bit since she was home by herself and could use the company. gabe happily joined her on the porch where samy completely disregarded her homework for now. the hockey player stretched back in the chair, taking in the pretty view of the other houses down the hill. 

"i gotta admit, i'm gonna really miss this place," the boy hummed, meeting samy's glance. 

"i can't believe it's almost over. it feels weird," she frowned a bit. 

"yeah, i know. it went by so fast. i'm sure will's told you this, but the guys are gonna really miss hanging out here every weekend. you made our time in michigan really special," gabe smiled softly. samy actually hadn't heard that before, so she was flattered hearing it come from his mouth. 

she didn't think she'd miss hockey boys as much as she would miss them. sure, her brother's dev friends were great, but they were never really her friend. they were more like brothers and she just gained brothers every year. this dev class was by far her favorite because she was walking away with seven boys who would be her friend for the rest of their lives and it hurt that she wouldn't get to see them every week anymore. 

"well, you're welcome back anytime. you all are invited to the lake house in the summer every year now," they shared a smile. 

"good because i'd still come even if i wasn't invited," gabe mumbled. 

the two settled into a comfortable silence for a moment. samy's mind was scattered with thoughts of graduating and heading to college in the fall. it was only april and she graduated at the end of may, so there was still a month left, but it was going to go fast. once prom was over, it was just finals and state testing and then graduation. it'd be over before she knew it and the boys would be gone. there wouldn't be any more reason to drive up to plymouth unless she wanted to watch the u17s play next year. 

"so i heard you're taking smitty to prom?" gabe broke the silence. samy's gaze snapped to his, flushing. 

"yeah. it was marcie and lauren's idea since i kept complaining i had no one to go with." 

"he's been talking about it since you asked him. i've never seen him freak about what suit to wear before. he kept telling us how important it was that he matched with you and looked good beside you..i have no idea," the boy's words caused a small blush to form on samy's cheeks. she dodged gabe's eyes thinking about will talking about it nonstop. 

things between them were..complicated. samy's sat with the idea of liking her best friend for about 6 months now and the more she thought about it, the more confused she became. marcie's teasing never stopped and the way will kept looking at her sent butterflies in her stomach in a way she's never felt before. it didn't make any sense anymore. 

"i'm glad he's excited," the younger hughes hummed. 

"oh, you have no idea. he's ecstatic. i think he would've blown a casket if you took someone that wasn't him," and the guys would make comments like those still that confused samy even worse because it was implying that will liked her and while everyone had been teasing and hinting that at her the whole year, she still didn't believe them. 

"that sounds a bit dramatic," she laughed it off though. 

"yeah, but like i'm serious. he's been wanting to take you to one of your dances since homecoming," gabe shook his head like he didn't know the weight of the words coming out of his mouth. the brunette quieted, her heart racing. homecoming? 

homecoming was back in october. that was when her and kevin were together and how much she knew kevin and will did not like each other. she knew will and kevin fought about shit kevin was saying that will didn't like, but then marcie told her it was also because kevin was trying to make will jealous. samy chose not to believe her, but now hearing gabe say it..maybe she wasn't so wrong after all. 

the hockey player seemed to finally realize what he was saying because his face paled and he darted his gaze to the girl beside him. 

"shit, i don't think i was supposed to say all of that," gabe mumbled embarrassingly. 

"you know people keep saying these things to me about will and it's like..i don't know. it's kind of freaking me out..i feel like i don't know what to think anymore," samy muttered. 

"i'm sorry. i shouldn't have..we just like to tease, you know that. i was just teasing..." gabe tried backtracking, flushed. 

"no, i mean like..it freaks me out because i think..i think i feel the same way?" 

the teenagers quieted. samy looked at gabe and he looked back at her in surprise. that was her first time admitting her possible feelings for will out loud. 

"it freaks you out that you like him?" gabe talked again, his tone softer than before. the brunette flushed and then nodded. 

"he's my best friend. i grew up with him. he's supposed to be an annoying brother..not someone i like...and now i'm taking him to my senior prom in a week.." 

"sometimes the best relationships come from being best friends your whole life first though. you'd be living a lot people's dreams," gabe tried making her feel better about it because he could sense the stress on her features. samy laughed. 

"i know. i just..i feel like everything is changing and i hate change. i just wish we could keep everything how it is and feelings don't have to be thrown into the mix, you know? i wish you guys weren't leaving michigan, i wish we had more time, i wish a lot of things," a long sigh escaped the girl's lips and gabe took it upon himself to get up to wrap her into a hug. 

"i know it's so weird and kind of scary, but you know we're always here for you, even in a different state. whatever happens between you and will, it's gonna work out. sometimes taking a risky leap leads to a lot of good things. plus, you know we'd be supportive because we've been rooting for you guys since we met you," they shared a heartfelt laugh. gabe pulled back, his soft smile easing the anxiety from the girl. 

he placed a kiss to her forehead, not in a romantic way, but in a loving, brother way and samy really appreciated it. she squeezed him a bit tighter for one last hug before letting him get back home knowing there was a lot to pack back at the house. 

"i'll see you soon. you can't get rid of us yet, hughes! we still have summer!" the dark-haired boy exclaimed as he walked to his car. samy giggled. 

"right. can't wait," she waved and watched him until his car wasn't in view anymore. she settled back into her chair to finish her homework while the camera above the door handle blinked, capturing her and gabe's entire conversation that will happened to listen in on because his phone was hooked up to her house's ring camera after one night samy was coming back late and will wanted to make sure she made it home safe per her request. 

he didn't mean to listen, but he heard his name brought up and his curiosity got the better of him. now he was left wondering what this meant for him and samy moving forward and a small part of him hoped it would lead to them finally getting into a relationship because what gabe said was right. 

will had been thinking about it since homecoming.

[thesoftboiledegg]

After poking fun at Marvel years ago with "Vindicators 3: The Return of Worldender," Rick and Morty set its sights on DC with "Ricker than Fiction." However, instead of roasting superhero movies for 20 minutes, the writers came up with a loving parody that allowed real-life DC alums to join in.

I loved Zack Snyder's cameo because he's been a long-time Rick and Morty fan, to the point that he met with Dan Harmon about making a movie, and letting James Gunn voice himself made his appearance a lot funnier. Celebrity parodies are usually lame and don't age well, but I could get on board with this because he basically played himself as a character.

The plot wasn't that original, and it stretched the characters a little (Rick always criticized superheroes in the past, and now he's suddenly invested in a franchise?), but in this era of superhero fatigue, the writers found a narrative beyond "Action movies are dumb!!" This episode combined a DC parody, a Rick and Morty adventure, some surprising character moments, a dash of social commentary and a fictionalized look at the life of a DC director.

I don't know how far in advance the writers' room produces scripts, so maybe they wrote this episode before AI took over, but Rick's Movie-lizer seems like a jab at AI-generated fiction. He explains that the machine uses a "prompt-driven CPU" that auto-generates changes to the script. Sound familiar?

As predicted, the machine goes haywire, leaving Rick and Morty trapped in the movie. When Jerry says that the plot is a mess, we get another appearance of Dan Harmon's famous story circle--the first since the Story Train episode in season four.

From there, the plot is fairly predictable, but the writers managed to throw in some twists that kept me guessing. I knew that Rick, Morty and Jerry would have to fix the plot somehow, but I didn't expect James Gunn to barge in and hilariously sabotage their efforts.

When he took control of the Movie-lizer, I figured he'd start writing his own script and make the situation crazier. The fact that he just tried to steal the machine instead seems like a missed opportunity, but I'll admit that Gunn tying chains around the machine and trying to haul it away with his car like he's relocating a fridge is a lot funnier.

And it led to Jerry having some great moments: beating up James Gunn because he wanted him to betray his family, doing his best to save Rick and Morty, and crying when he thought they were dead. Near the end, Rick proves that he believes in Jerry despite everything.

He might've slipped in another dig at AI, too. Maybe it's just me, but "Any idiot can plug an idea into a machine when they don't care what it spits back out, but it takes a special kind of idiot to get on the keys and write us an ending" sounded like a jab at people who choose prompts over original writing.

Speaking of Rick: after he stumbled in "Summer of All Fears," the rest of the season has emphasized that he really is changing. He's still mean, crabby and inconsiderate, and he struggles with empathy, but he's there when it really counts.

When the villain bites Morty, Rick whacks him on the head with a shovel, killing him instantly. Later, Morty furiously confronts Rick and shoves him to the ground, yells at him and shakes him, and Rick does...nothing. He doesn't even launch into an insult-filled tirade. Instead, he takes the beating with a silent frown. Is he finally realizing that he can't keep using his strength to hurt his grandson?

Just like he surprised himself by getting attached to Karen and Doug in "Cryo Mort a Rickver," he surprises himself again by getting attached to Tannenbaum and sacrificing himself instead of letting Morty kill his new favorite character. And then we get yet another "Vat of Acid Episode" reference...the writers never get tired of going back to that one, huh?

Morty's not afraid to speak his mind, either. When Rick told Morty to assemble the bad guy's henchpeople, I think he had confidence in Morty's ability to take charge and sway them with his natural charisma. The writers have backtracked on Morty's character development before, so I don't want to get too excited, but I hope this is headed somewhere.

While this episode is ostensibly about DC, it might also have some meta commentary about Rick and Morty fans. You get attached to characters you thought you'd hate (or I did, at least), you want to see Rick change ("Everyone sucks until they don't. That's the arc of every good story"), and Adult Swim is never going to be able to please the maniacs who want the show to return to season one again.

And even if it doesn't, you know Zack Snyder had a blast talking about Rick like he knows him personally. He's ONE mega-fan who won't be crying about season eight.

[unfriendlyamazon]

headcanons of things the yugiohs can't do

listen they're all perfect little angels but everybody's bad at something

yugi: can't school

anzu: can't sew

tristan: can't sing

joey: can't dance

seto: can't draw

duke: can't smoke

serenity: can't cook

mai: disaster lesbian who's only skill is conning people

[gregmarriage]

i fear i may have pavlov dogged myself into being anxious, every time i get an email

[savage-rhi]

Magensia?

[midnightcaptions]

I cant post fic bc I'm always scared I'm pulling it from somewhere I cant recall, itll even stop me from writing. Its dumb.

[dravidssideblog]

2,500 word story featuring the character willingly getting put in a black rubber faceless suit that turns them into a kobold and connects them to a hivemind.

[yuujispinkhair]

NERD!SUKUNA HEADCANONS - Part 1

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female). College AU. 2k words 18+, fluff + smut (Sukuna has some dirty fantasies about Reader. The actual smut will be in Part 2). "Enemies" to friends to fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is shy and struggles with her grades. Sukuna is a genius but bad at feelings ;) Minors don't interact. Divider @/.lacedolliee. Credit for the super sexy fanart of Nerdkuna goes to my sweet friend @winterrbluess. The pic was used with Winn's permission 🖤 You asked if someone could write a little something about your fave sexy nerd, and I couldn't resist ;) I hope you'll enjoy it!

Nerd!Sukuna, who looks like a bad boy but is actually at the top of all his classes and a huge nerd when it comes to his studies and his various interests. Very intelligent, passionate, and hardworking. Sukuna always wants to be the best in everything he does.

Nerd!Sukuna, who could be one of the most popular guys on the whole campus if he wanted to, with his good looks and impressive height and fit body. But he keeps everyone at arm's length, not giving a fuck about popularity and not wanting to get distracted from his academic success.

Nerd!Sukuna, who once beat up a football player who tried to make fun of Sukuna's passion for all things history-related, and ever since that day, no one dared to bother Sukuna again.

Nerd!Sukuna, who is arrogant and condescending and thinks (rightfully so) that no one is fit to hold a candle to him. He is constantly looking down on everyone around him and would rather spend his free time perfecting his skills and studies than doing something useless.

Nerd!Sukuna, who hates group projects and prefers to work alone because everyone else is just holding him up, and Sukuna has to control all of their steps to fix their mistakes.

Nerd!Sukuna, who rolls his eyes in annoyance when he gets paired up with you for an assignment. A shy little thing whose name he never heard before, which means you are definitely not playing in the same academic league as him.

Nerd!Sukuna, who towers over you with his backpack slung casually over his broad shoulders and his tattooed face cold and hard when he informs you that he expects you to work hard and not fuck up his grades, or he will make your life hell.

Nerd!Sukuna, who is fully convinced this will be a disaster when he sees you wring your hands nervously and promise him you will work your ass off for this assignment because you really need a good grade so you can pass.

Nerd!Sukuna, who is a control freak who plans everything ahead and, therefore, doesn't let you have a word on how often you meet or when or where. He doesn't like having people over at his place, but he invites you over anyway because his kitchen table is his favorite place to study.

Nerd!Sukuna, who fixes you with a stern look through his nerdy glasses as he shoves a huge stack of books across the table, informing you he expects you to read all the needed information, which he already marked for you with various color-coded sticky notes. "Because you probably don't even know what we need for this assignment."

Nerd!Sukuna, who is surprised by how thoroughly you work and by the questions you ask him, which let him know you aren't as dumb as he thought.

Nerd!Sukuna, who likes how you hang on his lips when he explains stuff to you, clearly impressed by his detailed knowledge. And maybe, just maybe, he intentionally lowers his voice a bit more, just to see you get all nervous when he is talking in such a husky way, almost as if he isn't explaining political intrigues in the Heian era to you but rather telling you what he wants to do to you in his bed.

Nerd!Sukuna, who finds devilish joy in seeing how flustered you get around him and how clearly intimidated you are by his tall and broad body and his tattoos and arrogant attitude.

Nerd!Sukuna, who has to admit (only to himself) that getting paired up with you isn't too bad because at least you give your best, and you are actually kind of cute. The kind of sweet, shy girl who usually doesn't cross paths with him.

Nerd!Sukuna, who catches himself watching you during study time in his kitchen or in the library. He tells himself he is just checking if you really do your work, but his gaze mostly lingers on your glossy lips, which wrap around your pen while you focus on something or on your nose, which looks super cute when you scrunch it up in confusion.

Nerd!Sukuna, who isn't one to brag because he thinks that is something for losers, but he can't help but mention casually some of the academic awards he already won just because he is getting addicted to the buzzing in his veins when he sees the way you gulp hard and get all shy and cute on him, muttering something about how you struggle to even stay in college.

Nerd!Sukuna, who usually loves to be a little sadist and make fun of people who have bad grades, but somehow, he can't bring himself to do that when it comes to you.

Nerd!Sukuna, who instead surprises himself by reaching out and ruffling your hair, telling you that he will help you with your studies.

Nerd!Sukuna, who forms a strange little companionship with you, almost looking forward to your meetings and even preparing an extra plate of snacks for you.

Nerd!Sukuna, who usually isn't someone people would refer to as nice, but who drops his arrogant and mocking attitude at least a little when he is in his kitchen with you and instead jokes around with you and feels his heart throb weirdly when you get his humor, and laugh about his even most sarcastic remarks.

Nerd!Sukuna, who likes it when you come out of your shell more and more, joining in on his playful teasing or telling him about your favorite books and shows.

Nerd!Sukuna, who accidentally overhears you telling your classmate that you don't have time to go to the coffeeshop with her because you are already meeting your friend Sukuna after class, which leaves Sukuna standing in the middle of the hallway for a whole thirty seconds, with his mouth hanging open, completely stunned and looking like a brainless idiot as his mind tries to wrap around the fact that you see him as your friend when Sukuna never had a friend before.

Nerd!Sukuna, who makes sure to bake your favorite muffins and prepare your favorite type of tea before you come over that afternoon, wordlessly showing you that he values your companionship, or friendship, as you called it, too.

Nerd!Sukuna, who feels a small smile tug at his usually smirking lips when he sees your big happy smile and hears your sweet "For me? Oh, thank you!" when you see the plate with muffins on your place at his kitchen table. And yes, he refers to it as your place, and the thought makes him feel strangely warm.

Nerd!Sukuna, who playfully teases you for your Hello Kitty pens and glittery pink notebooks, asking if you are in some "Little Princess Kindergarten Club" or something. Only for you to march up to him the next morning before class to press a Hello Kitty text marker set against his chest so he can join the club, too, causing Sukuna to sit in class with a stupid grin on his face for a whole hour.

Nerd!Sukuna, who likes how easy things feel with you. How he can put all his hard work into your assignment and also see you working hard on it, but also have this light-hearted, playful banter with you, making him realize how boring and dry his afternoons used to be before you became his assignment partner.

Nerd!Sukuna, who has to admit that you definitely aren't as bad of an assignment partner as he thought you would be. He even allows you to fill out a whole page all by yourself, which is the biggest compliment he can give you.

Nerd!Sukuna, who catches himself playfully flirting with you, smirking smugly when he catches you staring at him when he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "See something you like, princess? Aww, no need to be embarrassed. I know those glasses look sexy on me."

Nerd!Sukuna, who loves to tease you like that and who ducks just in time when you scream in embarrassment and throw a pen at him while looking so fucking cute that Sukuna just teases you even more.

Nerd!Sukuna, who is quite happy with how your assignment is going. Usually, he would do the whole presentation by himself because he trusts no one else to deliver it the way he wants to, but Sukuna knows how shy you are about talking in front of the class, and Sukuna wants to teach you how to lose that fear.

Nerd!Sukuna, who just smirks at you when you complain loudly, "I can't do that! I am so bad at presenting things. I get all nervous and flustered, and then I mess up. Please do it yourself, Sukuna! You are so much better at this!"

Nerd!Sukuna, who tells you, "If you always run away from everything that scares you, you will never make it in life. So, nope. You will do your part. But aren't you such a lucky girl that you have me as your teacher?"

Nerd!Sukuna, who makes you stand in front of his fridge and practice your presentation over and over again while Sukuna sits on the kitchen chair, long muscular legs spread, tattooed arms crossed in front of his broad chest, occasionally pushing his glasses up as he watches you with an amused expression on his tattooed face, providing a brutal but honest opinion and actually helpful advice.

Nerd!Sukuna, who isn't just an overly critical and perfectionist asshole, but also someone who gives praise when he thinks it is deserved. And you, his cute little assignment partner, really deserve it. Sukuna walks over to you, stopping in front of you with a broad grin, "You did really well, princess. I'm proud of you."

Nerd!Sukuna, who wonders why your pupils look so blown out all of a sudden when you tilt your head to look up at him, stuttering in a slightly breathless voice, "Th... thank you. You were a really good teacher."

Nerd!Sukuna, who laughs and pets your hair as he smirks at you, saying something about how he could teach you lots of other things, too. Not sure anymore whether he is still just teasing you or if he really means it in a sexual way.

Nerd!Sukuna, who realizes he has a little big problem when he starts noticing the way your tits get pushed up and almost spill out of your shirt when you press a stack of books against them. Or when he loses his thread because you decided to wear a sexy little skirt, and now Sukuna can't stop thinking about how cute it would look if you were bouncing on his cock while still wearing that little skirt. Or when you suck on your stupid Hello Kitty pen, and Sukuna can't help but imagine how those sweet glossy lips of yours would feel wrapped around his cock instead.

Nerd!Sukuna, who tries to suppress those thoughts though, not wanting to mess this assignment up.

Nerd!Sukuna, who feels like encountering a world boss in a computer game, when you have a breakdown at his kitchen table, the evening before your presentation, crying and sobbing because you are nervous and convinced you will fuck up. And suddenly, Sukuna finds himself comforting you, gently caressing your arms with his large hands while murmuring reassurance to you. "Hey, stop being a brat. I know you can do it. You learned from the best, after all, didn't you, princess? And you got me. Just look at me the whole time, ok? Nothing bad can happen when you just look at me."

Nerd!Sukuna, who is surprised by how protective he feels over you at that moment. You are sitting in front of him looking like a wet cat, with your eyes all red and swollen from crying and snot running out of your nose, but somehow you still look so fucking cute to him, and somehow you make him so much softer and less rational than he usually is.

Nerd!Sukuna, who sighs and growls, "Oh, just come here." sounding annoyed but contradicting it by pulling you into his strong arms and holding you until you feel ok again. Sukuna still complains that you got his shirt wet with your tears, but his words lack the bite.

Nerd!Sukuna, who is genuinely proud of how much you improved when he watches your part of the presentation the next day. He even catches himself smiling a real smile at you when he congratulates you after class.

Nerd!Sukuna, who experiences a strange fluttery feeling in his stomach when you smile back at him and put your small hand on his tattooed biceps, "Thank you, Sukuna. It was really nice working with you."

Nerd!Sukuna, who manages a "same," but then just stands before you, opening his mouth and closing it again, not knowing what else to say because there are too many thoughts racing through his mind, and all of them seem to be too honest. And you do the same, shuffling around shyly, looking at him with wide eyes, parting your lips, but no words come out. And so both of you just lift a hand in an awkward farewell gesture and leave on opposite sides of the hallway.

Nerd!Sukuna, who tries to tell himself he is glad that your assignment is over and he can work in solitude again but then ends up staring longingly at the empty chair at his kitchen table, where you used to sit those last few weeks.

Aww Sukuna, do you miss us? ;)

I AM VERY ATTRACTED TO HIM AAAHHHH please, Kuna, tell me more about history and physics and every other subject that there is!!! You are so sexy!! 😘😘

Winn's fanart of Nerdkuna made me swoon so much and fall in love with him, and I always picture him as being at the top of classes anyway, so I think it was really time to finally write about him living his best nerdy life.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the headcanons! I will post Part 2 in a few days 💗 Will Kuna find a way to get us back onto his kitchen chair?

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet!

Here is Part 2

[inwithrin]

ᓚ₍⑅^..^₎♡ abby + dumbification 

thinking about abby who doesn’t even realize she’s turned you into a dumb pretty girl. it wasn’t on purpose—she’s just so capable, so gentle, and strong. that before you knew it, you stopped lifting a finger around her.

cw: dumbification, fingering (r!receiving), soft dom!abby, slight choking. this was my demons telling me i should write more smut ... (,,¬﹏¬,,)

at first, abby doesn’t mean to coddle you. she opens doors without thinking, reaches across the car to buckle your seatbelt, drapes her jacket over your shoulders when it’s even slightly cold, she carries your purse, holds your hand when you cross a busy street, opens your water bottles, and watches you with that small frown when you even try to do anything yourself.

it starts slow. innocent.

it’s instinct. at least, that’s what she tells herself. but somewhere along the way, something shifts. she starts noticing how easily you let her do things, and then it hits her—hard. you’re too pretty to be doing anything on your own. too soft, too sweet, too delicate to be struggling with stubborn zippers or heavy doors. it almost makes her angry, seeing you lift a finger when she’s right there.

“you really can’t help yourself, huh?” you tease one day, laughing as she lifts you off the counter like you weigh nothing.

“you shouldn’t have to do anything,” abby mutters, brushing your hair behind your ear. “not when i’m here.”

you raise a brow. “even things i’m perfectly capable of doing?”

she grins. “especially those, baby.”

and it only gets worse from there.

she starts cutting your food for you when you're not paying attention. holds your chin so you drink water. gets grumpy when you won’t let her help you into your coat. she doesn’t even let you put on your shoes anymore. 

abby knows you could do it all yourself—but she’ll never let you. because if you’re gonna be this pretty and helpless around her, she’s gonna ruin you for anyone else ever trying to treat you like anything less than a princess. 

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────

you’re standing in the hallway, struggling to drag a box full of your spring clothes that’s too heavy for you. it’s not even that big, but it’s the kind of thing abby could carry with one arm without even thinking about it, but you’re trying anyway.

she watches from the doorway for a second, silent—thinking about how you look cute like that, trying so hard to do something she could do for you. but then you glance up at her—wide, pretty eyes. your lip caught between your teeth. breath coming a little faster from the effort.

“baby,” she says, voice low.

you tilt your head. “yeah?”

she walks up to you. “what are you doing?”

you give her a shy look, like you know exactly how this is going to end up. “i’m just trying to move this box.”

“why are you doing it when i’m right here?” abby asks.

you shrug, playfully. “i didn’t wanna bother you, abs.”

abby lets out a short, quiet laugh. “bother me? you don’t bother me, sweetheart.”

her eyes never leave yours. you blink up at her again, and abby sighs at the sight of those pretty lashes fluttering, lips parted like you might ask for help but just can’t bring yourself to. 

she grabs the box effortlessly, pushes it aside like it weighs nothing, and then her hands are on your hips. “you don’t lift shit when i’m around,” she whispers, forehead pressed to yours now. “you know that, right?”

you nod, breath hitching. "i know."

“say it,” she almost sounds like she’s pleading.

“i don’t lift shit when you’re around,” you repeat with a little smile.

her lips crash into yours—hot, hungry, still laced with that frustration from seeing you strain without her. her hands are rough on your hips, guiding you back against the wall, like she needs you pinned there to calm herself down.

“next time you need something,” she murmurs, dragging her lips down your jaw, “you call for me. you ask. you use that pretty mouth for something useful.”

your knees go weak. she catches you before you can even stumble. “yes, abs.”

“told you,” she breathes, kissing your pulse point. “too fucking pretty to be lifting anything but your skirt for me.”

you barely have time to catch your breath before she scoops you up. “hey—”

“shh,” she murmurs, already carrying you down the hall. her arms are firm around you, one under your thighs, the other across your back, and you’re helpless in her hold. “you’ve done enough for today.”

you huff a quiet laugh, still dazed. “i barely did anything!"

“exactly,” she says, glancing at you with a grin. “and even that was too much.”

you bury your face in her neck, trying to hide the way your cheeks burn. she’s so warm, skin flushed from the kiss and the way she needs to take care of you. every step toward the bedroom is deliberate. 

“abs…” you whisper, fingers gripping the collar of her shirt.

she kicks the door open with her foot and sets you down on the bed—gently, but her hands don’t leave you, though. she hovers over you, crowding you in with that look again. hungry. reverent. possessive.

“my princess,” she whispers as she presses a kiss on the shell of your ear.

you tremble under her, thighs pressing together instinctively. she notices—of course she notices.

“my pretty doll,” abby mutters, trailing her hand slowly down your stomach, over your hips. “you try so hard to be helpful,” she says, kissing your neck now. “but i don’t want your help, baby. i want you pretty for me, spoiled, and mine. that’s it”

your eyes flutter shut, biting your lip.

“and you are, aren’t you?” she asks. 

“mhm,” you hum.

abby smirks against your skin, voice dropping even lower. “good. now let me remind you what you should be doing with those pretty hands… you should be grabbing my shoulders, my hands—pulling my hair, even—but not lifting boxes.”

you nod under her, already breathless, pupils wide and shining. abby just watches you for a second like she can’t believe how sweet you are.

“lay back,” she says softly.

you do, instantly, pliant as anything, arms falling to your sides like you’ve been waiting for this exact moment ever since you tried carrying that box. abby's big hands drag along your waist, your ribs, your thighs. she kisses your forehead, your temple, the inside of your wrist—like you’re something to be worshipped, not rushed.

“i fucking love when you do that,” she mutters against your shoulder, her braid tickling your skin. “looking up at me all helpless like that. all soft and needy, like you don’t even know how to ask for what you want.”

your breath stutters. your thighs twitch under her. “abby, please—”

“what do you want, baby?” she asks.

“you,” you whisper.

she smiles, but it’s crooked. “yeah? want me to take care of you?”

you nod again, and it’s immediate—automatic. her palm slides up your chest and gently wraps around your throat, not squeezing, just resting there.

“so dumb,” she murmurs. “my dumb baby.”

your back arches into her, chasing the heat of her body. she groans, thumb brushing the skin of your neck while her other hand slips between your thighs, fingers ghosting over your soaked underwear.

“look at that,” she says, grinning against your cheek. “you don’t need to think. you just need me.”

you whimper, hips tilting into her hand. “i do need you, abs—”

“i’ll do everything for you,” she whispers. “fuck you how you need. take care of you. think for you. all you have to do is lie here, look pretty, and let me make you feel good. you don’t have to do anything more.”

you only hum in response, utterly gone by the sound of her voice.

“words, sweetheart,” she says, lips at your ear now.

“yes—please, abby,” you whisper. “please.”

she kisses you like she’s angry and in love all at once. her hand on your throat is still gentle. her body is pressing you down into the mattress like she wants to sink you into the bed. abby pulls your panties down slowly—two thick fingers slipping through your wetness, spreading you open with practiced care, but not really giving you anything, causing you to whine.

“already so wet for me, huh?” she says, dragging her fingers just barely where you need them. “you’re so good. so easy. i barely even have to try.”

you moan, hips rocking up, and her fingers slip in—thick and perfect, pressing deep with a slow curl that makes you cry out. “fuck, abs.”

she always fucks you with control and patience. every thrust is firm, fingers reaching places no one else ever could. her thumb rests on your clit, circling slowly and carefully. 

“that’s it, baby,” she coos. “don’t think. just feel.”

your mouth falls open. your hands grip her arm, and her palm tightens around your throat.

“you’re mine, yeah?” she asks.

“yes—yes, abby,” you utter in response. “i’m all yours—all yours.”

she groans, biting gently along your shoulder, as you start to clench around her fingers. you’re getting close, every part of you wound tight, eyes glassy and unfocused.

“let go, doll,” she whispers. “so dumb and pretty—just for me.”

abby’s fingers don’t stop—ever. each movement is deliberate, calculated, but it’s too much for you. her thumb presses harder on your clit, swirling just the right way, while she holds you still under her. every time you try to squirm or lift your hips, she pins you down with ease, barely needing to put any pressure on you to stop your movements.

“shh,” she murmurs, leaning in to kiss you softly, gently—even if you can’t kiss back properly. “i’ve got you, baby. you can take it.”

your legs are shaking now, that familiar tension already coiling tighter and tighter in your stomach, but she’s not letting you get away with it. not yet. not until you beg her.

“i wanna cum, abs—” you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut, and she doesn’t let up. 

she presses deeper inside you, fingers moving relentlessly, her grip on your throat firm and steady as she watches your reactions closely. “open your eyes,” she orders softly.

you do, and she’s there—right above you, eyes dark with adoration. “wanna cum, please, please, please—”

“you’re gonna come for me, right?” she asks, voice a low rasp that makes your heart race even faster. “gonna be a good little baby and let me make you come?”

“yes,” you whisper, voice shaky, utterly helpless under her touch. “please, abby.”

“good girl,” she praises, and the words hit you like a shockwave. “such a sweet little thing for me.”

her fingers start moving faster, her palm pressing harder against your clit, and this time, she doesn’t give you the chance to breathe. the overstimulation crashes over you in waves, but it’s all too much in the best way. you cum—shaking, crying out, your back arching, your whole body trembling under the force of it. your hands fly to her wrist, clutching her desperately as your hips try to escape the intensity of it all, but she holds you down—right where she wants you.

“that’s it,” she murmurs, kissing your cheek gently while you writhe underneath her. “so fucking beautiful. so good for me.”

your mind is fuzzy, your body still tingling from the orgasm. you try to catch your breath, but she’s not done. not yet.

[girlfromflor]

i was writing this earlier and then i saw this post and that's what did it for me. thanks cupid (@cupidsworstcrime).

dog hybrid!simon who's weird and kind of creepy to most people. he doesn't know half terms, he just knows 100% or zero and that can cause problems. dog hybrid!simon who's really just a dumb puppy who thinks being sexy equals being vulgar, so he often comes off as a pervert.

he is a pervert, but lovingly. he lives off touching you, kissing you, worshiping you.

so imagine his horror when you restrain him. when you put him in a muzzle and lets him do as he pleases but not exactly. because he can touch you and hump into you and fuck you, but there's no kisses available. no biting, no sucking, no marking.

it drives him absolutely insane. which only makes him want to have more, hump you more, fuck more. but it doesn't satiate his need for your skin, his desire to put his teeth on you, sink them hard until your skin is engraved with his molars.

so he stays in the cycle of fucking, cumming, not having enough, repeat. all over again, time after time, because why can't you just take it off of him? hasn't he proved to be good? your good mutt?

he's a whimpering mess when you decide that it's enough. whining with every touch and trembling from how many times he took what he wanted.

he's not different from you, thighs a mess of your releases as you struggle to keep them still.

[houseofhyde]

last train home.

pairing. bucky barnes x fem!reader mcu timeline. thunderbolts + tfatws flashbacks synopsis. hours after the void swallows half of new york city, bucky barnes finds himself breaking his #1 rule: don't show up at your door. warnings. no use of y/n, ex!reader, exes to ???, angst, suggestive, hurt with comfort that is proceeded by more hurt, pining, bucky is lowkey down bad and pathetic, descriptions of bruises, injuries, and choking (not the sexy kind, unfortunately), bucky is also kinda serving stalker realness (but its okay bc he's hot and in love), flashbacks via bucky's time in the void. thunderbolts spoilers!!! word count. 4k. hyde’s input. thunderbolts reawakened something dormant in me and threw me back into trenches i thought i'd clawed my way out of. idk if this can even be considered a serious fic because i wrote this like it was the ramblings of a madwoman, i can't even lie. no editing, we die like real (dumb) men. in true me fashion, i already have two more parts planned for this couple, including eventual sloppy sad smut bc why write about a man if i don't get to whore him out? read on ao3.

Bucky knows he shouldn’t be here.

Knows that his will not be a welcome face.

Knows that he’s around two years and a sincere apology too late.

The hour is late, the dials of his wristwatch already encroaching on midnight. The city’s starless sky is a darkness that pales in comparison to the heavy shadow he’d watched infect Manhattan earlier. A void of pain too many had vanished beneath, before he and his ragtag team of false heroes had no choice but to dive into it, one last ditched effort at bringing back the light. The madness truly began when the darkness spat them back out onto the chaos of the streets.

The relief of seeing the sun. The shamble of a press conference. The new Avengers. 

And all he could think about was making it to this street. This door. You.

Bucky wishes he could say that the last time he saw you was last week, struggling beneath the weight of grocery bags. But that’s no longer true, because the last time he saw you was merely a few hours ago, trapped inside a time loop of his own making, his own memories, his own pain.

The room was colder than he remembered as he stepped in through a balcony door, sheer curtains billowing around him as a storm gathered outside.

At first, he wasn’t sure what memory this was, what new room he’d stepped into. All Bucky knew was he had made his way through the hell of Hydra’s experimentations, picked himself up from those traintracks, let himself soak in the scene of fighting Steve. Whatever haunted him in this bedroom of silence and sin, he was sure he could move through it and make his way to the door on the opposite side. Until a figure stirred beneath the sheets and he found himself frozen at the end of the bed.

Because there you were, eyes closed and head buried in the warmth of his own chest, blissfully unaware of the waking nightmare that awaited you.

He’s not used to crossing this street.

Not anymore.

Nowadays, his place is somewhere just across from you, two steps behind and a head hung low in hopes that you don’t notice him. Because he knows that it’s wrong, and he knows there are boundaries that have been drawn, but he just can’t seem to fall asleep at night if he doesn’t hop off that train a few stops early just to watch you come home safe.

He hadn’t meant to make it a habit. At first, it was just routine, muscle memory. He spent months making his way home to you, he needed more than a few weeks to get used to his new commute. But then he got in his own head, found himself sat in a train cart, knee bouncing out his stress as his mind tortured him with all the what ifs and nonexistent threats you could encounter on your way home alone. Who else could he trust but his own eyes to watch over you? So he let himself indulge, wander out from the subway below just in time to watch you turn a corner. Told himself it was okay, so long as he kept his distance. So long as he only observed, even when it killed him. The days it would rain and he’d fight the urge to shelter you beneath his umbrella. The times he’d notice a smiling stranger getting too close for comfort and remind himself it was no longer his place to ward them off with an arm around your waist. The way he’d catch the polished shine of a necklace resting at the base of your neck and suddenly remember why he could no longer call you his.

He should have noticed sooner. How the room smelt of your delicate perfume. How remnants of your clothes lay strewn across carpeted floors. How the scene before him was plucked perfectly from that trip.

A getaway of his own doing, heart swollen with a little more pride than he’d care to admit over simply figuring out how to book a vacation online. There was no real rhyme or reason for it, no birthday to celebrate or anniversary to commemorate. Bucky had simply felt happy. Blissfully, wholly, perfectly happy, for the first time in too long. In retrospect, that should have been the first warning sign.

But those razor sharp senses of his seemed to go blunt with the brightness of your smile, the tenderness of your kiss, the warmth of your voice. He believed you made him good. Made him right. Made him whole. He’d never stopped to wonder what he made you.

Until he made you hurt.

He’s standing outside your door.

Time seems irrelevant when everything is the same as he remembers it.

The lopsided apartment number. The faded welcome mat outside the door. The chipping paint you insist you don’t mind, all in the hopes of stopping Bucky from chewing out your landlord about another thing that needs fixing. Suddenly, it’s like he can feel the weight of your key in his pocket, waiting for him to fish it out and welcome himself home to the smell of burning incense and the taste of your skin.

His heart’s beating a little faster now. Maybe he shouldn’t have come. Maybe he should start learning to leave well enough alone. Maybe he should be trying to move on. But how can he move on with a life you made him want to live?

He’s fought battles, drawn blood, turned to dust and come back again. Yet this is a bridge he cannot seem to cross: knocking on your door.

All Bucky had registered back then was the soul-crushing weight of waking up to find what he’d done. Standing at the edge of the bed, a voyeur to his own harm, The Void granted him a full perspective of the events.

It began with muttering, foreign words falling from his sleeping lips. Then his head tossed, his leg twitched, his voice raised. You, eyes blinking away sleep and limbs untangling from his, woken up suddenly to his heart racing beneath you. He watched you watch the other him, a few seconds of his nightmarish sleeping, before finally you did what you thought was best, what any caring person would do if their partner was being haunted in their sleep.

You whispered his name, soothed a palm over his cheek, coaxed him out of whatever hell he was trapped in. But when his eyelids snapped open, there was no summer sky or calming river living in the iris but a steely blue, winter cold.

Metal clutched at your throat.

“James?”

Echoes of a past life sing in his ears as he feels himself freeze. His gaze meets the ground, where he spots an open door and a familiar pair of fluffy slippers, looking a little worse for wear than he remembers them being on that Christmas morning, sitting across from you with a stiff jaw and nervous eyes, watching you pull apart layers of wrapping paper. Now time has left its mark on them and Bucky can’t help but wonder how much longer until you replace them with something newer, something softer, something that’ll bring more comfort to your aching feet as you slip into them after a long day at the firm.

The firm. Your workplace. Two blocks down from the building that once stood as a symbol for everything Steve and the rest of the Avengers — the real Avengers — had achieved, a home still haunted by its previous owners whose footsteps Valentina expected him to tread over. 

Bucky had stopped believing in God somewhere between the torture and the war against genocidal aliens but as that cloud of darkness rolled over the Manhattan skyline, vanishing people into shadows, he caught himself praying to someone, something, anything that you were okay. That you’d caught a stomach bug or the flu and had called in sick. That you’d been called out of state, sent to work elsewhere on a client’s case. That you’d been anywhere but trapped beneath the weight of The Void’s darkness; lonely, and scared, and reliving the cruelest memories your mind could conjure. 

But as he finally looks at you, your face says it all. The troubled eyes, the weary smile, the trembling hands. The Void may have spat you back out alongside the rest of the city — he may have been able to save you from the looping pain, at least — but it left its mark all over you, whispers of fear still clinging to your skin.

Like a wave meets the shore, he crashes over you.

At first, Bucky couldn’t watch.

Eyes squeezed shut, back turned on the scene taking place upon the bed, he tried to block it all out. But then a door slammed, his eyes reopened, and the memory had started all over again. Your head on his chest, his tossing and turning. You waking him up, his hand around your neck. With an ache in his bones, he forced himself to bear witness.

To the way he looked right at you like you were a stranger, a threat, a mission. To the way the metal twisted and screamed as he tightened his grip. To the way your hand found his face. Not to scratch, not to push, not to fight back. But to mollify, the warmth of your palm resting on his icy cheek, tender in your touch even as he robbed you of breath.

And then he snapped out of it. Came to his senses. Ripped himself away from you and stumbled out the bed, hands — metal and flesh — scrambling for the scattered pieces of the same clothes he’d let you peel off of him only hours before, your eyes alive with the buzz of too much wine and his cheeks burning from too much sun and you. Undressing like every layer was an offense, just one more obstacle getting in the way as you both tumbled back into the hotel bed.

You are hesitant.

Arms glued to your side, you stand frozen in the unexpected embrace. He can’t find it in himself to blame you, not when he thinks of how scared you must feel with a weapon wound around your body once more, holding you close to him. The action is not only protective but possessive, too. An antidote to an unwarranted need that took root in his chest the moment he returned to the mania of Manhattan, freshly haunted by a visceral unpresent presence, desperate to confirm with more than just a glance from across a street that you were home. That you were safe. That you were here, even if he shouldn’t be. 

Bucky just needs you to give him a moment. A second. To feel the slow rise of your chest against his, and to take in the fading scent of your perfume, and to caress his right hand over the back of your head. To hold you like he still has any right to your heart. Then he can go. Pull away, set you free, stagger back to his apartment. Collapse onto the familiar comforts of creaking floorboards, muster up the guts to return Sam’s fourteen missed calls and sink into a different layer of guilt to distract himself from the fact you’re not sleeping beside him, breathing beside him. That you haven’t been his for two years, no matter how much he’s still yours.

He pulls in a deep breath, tightens his arms around your frame, prepares himself for the inevitability of him pulling away and feeling the much deserved sting of your hand slapping his cheek and your voice spewing venomous words.

Any minute now, he’ll let go.

“Bucky…” it’s barely a whisper, but he hears it — feels it, as the ice in your bones thaws away and you melt into his embrace.

How could he possibly let go?

Bucky remembered struggling to breathe.

Ignoring your weak calls of his name, he dressed himself with so much haste half the buttons on his shirt remained undone. On the bed, you choked on heavy breaths of air, tears welling like the threat of an incoming downpour that was sure to drown him further beneath waves of guilt, shame, hatred. The vibranium virus attached to his left side seemed to mock him as he struggled to pull on his shoes, too blinded by panic to notice your approaching figure.

Bucky grabbed for the door and you grabbed for him, fingers almost curling around the wrist of his metal arm. He flinched out of your reach, head spinning round to take in the sight of you now at his side, shielded beneath bedsheets from the exposing light of the moon. His gaze flickered to your neck, replaying memories of where his mouth had laid claim over your skin and painted you in shades of his love. How many hours would it take for them to fade beneath the mold of his fingers, for the things Bucky hated most about himself to viscerally terrorise him as a bruise upon his most darling delicate?

You tried to reach for him, again. All he could manage was a quiet, “don’t.”

He never meant to slam the door as he left.

“Are you okay?”

He’s no stranger to late night fantasies, the inconsequential thoughts of an idealised life he’s free to play out when sleep eludes him, buds of anxious worry beginning to bloom within his chest. Before, all his what ifs and if onlys projected him back in time, where no draft came knocking at his door or any serum distorted his DNA. Then he met you and, gradually, his pining for the past morphed into dreaming of a future. All the possible firsts of your relationship: first date, first kiss, first holiday, first anniversary. He could relearn the world, reintroduce himself to the possibility of normality. He pondered moving, trading the city for a quieter life, where weekends would be reserved for exchanging body heat beneath the blankets of a bed he’d build for you, and Sunday gatherings with Sam and the rest of the Wilson’s.

Then, the dreams faded to grey, along with the rest of his world.

The past no longer enticed him, and a future seemed pointless without you. All that was left for him was to agonise, stare at his living room ceiling and watch the atrocities he’d committed play on repeat. The Starks’ car, Yori’s son, your neck. With therapy came amends, a booklet of names his conscience needed him to confront with an apology. Yours never made the cut. Because it wasn’t the Winter Soldier that had hurt you, it was him. No amount of therapised language intended to distance him from the harm would be a good enough excuse to lay at your feet, so he stayed away, kept his distance.

Not once had he fantasised he would be breaking no-contact like this.

“A little confused and contemplating why I’m still living in this city after years of it being a breeding ground for supernatural and extraterrestrial attacks, but I’m fine,” you reply at last, trailing off with a laugh that catches on your throat and breaks into a hiccup.

There’s a shake in your voice that nearly has him pulling back but your arms stop him, hold him closer. You shuffle your feet between his own and burrow your face away, out of sight, in the crook of his neck. A layer of ash still stains him, powder remnants of the rubble that had fallen during The Void's attack, but you don’t seem to care.

“I saw you on the news, Buck. Are you okay?”

The relationship was over in a matter of days.

You slept through the train ride home, leaving him with nothing but passing fields and troubled thoughts. Once back in the city, he carried your bags in his left hand while the fingers of his right one threaded with yours. You did most of the talking, comments of where you two could holiday next, if he’d spoken to Sam recently, and how your mother had mentioned in passing that you should bring Bucky with you next time you visit. The silence arrived as you both reached your front door, one glance at the bruise around your neck enough to let him know this was the end of the line.

An inbox of missed calls and unread texts later, he dropped your apartment key through the letterbox.

He blinked and suddenly the scene had reset, your lonesome frame crawling back onto the bed once more, fading away into two figures curled around one another beneath the sheets. Bucky watched it all unravel. And, when the door slammed and your tears fell, he watched it start again. Over and over, he watched himself poison the safe haven you made for him, pushing you away and rebuilding that wall around himself. Over and over, he watched you reach for him, a silent plea in your eyes begging him to stay.

He never did.

It was only when he joined you on the bed — after the other him had slammed the door — and pulled you into his longing embrace, mouth kissing apologies against your forehead as you drifted off to sleep, that the cycle came to a stop. One moment, he was holding some version of you for the first time in years, and, in the next, The Void sent him falling through the ceiling of an old Hydra lab.

He landed in the leather chair with a thud and, as a familiar device closed in around his head, he wished he was back in that hotel room, watching your heart break before his eyes, if only to see you a little longer.

With reluctance, he pulls back.

Not because he no longer needs to hold you, feel you breathing safely against him. But he needs to see you. Properly, as something more than a distant shape across the street. Inches apart now, the hole in his chest seems to scream it’s not close enough. When your eyes meet his and a tear slides down your face, not even Sentry could stop him from reaching up to catch it.

Comfort fills his soul as he feels your hand lay itself atop his own, holding it in place against your cheek. Your eyes slip shut and a sigh slips past your lips. Bucky can’t help but lean in, eyes shutting out the world around you. His forehead finds rest against yours, a gentle pressure against skin that feels more intimate than any kiss he could ever give. “Tell me you’re okay, Bucky,” a delicate whisper that possesses no threat to the quiet that surrounds you both.

For a moment, there is peace. Hope. Time has passed, his life has changed, and, while he’s no symbol of sanity, he saved people today — strangers. Bucky Barnes is officially a hero. An Avenger. So maybe things can be different. And maybe he can ask to take up space in your life again, to be part of your mornings and your evenings, your everyday. He can make amends and make you his.

Something meows and tears him out of his daydream.

A blur of white fur moves cautiously inside your apartment, weaving through a few house plants atop a shoe rack. But that isn’t what leaves him feeling foolish, feeling sick, feeling like he’s been sucker punched in the chest. It’s the pair of shoes carelessly discarded on the floor, shrugged off by someone too impatient to put them away if it means spending another moment away from you — Bucky would know, he used to do the same.

A pair of men’s shoes. “I should-” go, he can’t bring himself to say it. He doesn’t want to leave. “Don’t wanna miss the train.”

“James,” his name is a plea on your tongue, a question he’s forgotten how to answer.

“I’m sorry,” for hurting you, for not moving on, for showing up at your door. “I just needed to see you.”

The first step is still the hardest.

As the thought passes through him, a sense of deja vu comes over him. This hallway, your doorway. Turning his back on you, telling himself that it’s better this way. No matter how much it kills him, he can live with the pain of knowing you’ll be safer with someone else. Someone who was born at the right time, and has done all the right things in life that lead them to being rewarded with you. It’s best he goes, before that someone comes looking for you.

He can’t stomach the thought of seeing you with somebody else.

“For someone so good at the fight, you sure do love to choose flight,” your voice is soft yet he hears a bite of anger, a sprinkle of resentment. “Or is walking away a special trick you only use when it comes to me?”

“Don’t do that,” he turns back around to face you, and regrets it the moment he notices more tears threatening to spill. His hand itches to wipe them all away. “Don’t make it seem like leaving you was something I chose to do.”

“But you did!”

“Only because I had to!” Bucky never means to raise his voice, not at you. Things clearly haven’t changed enough for him to stop hurting you when he swears he won’t.  “You know what I did to you.”

With a challenge on your face, your arms cross over your chest and you pop your hip out, leaning your body against the doorframe. “What exactly did you do, James?”

“I…” torture of the tongue, he needs to compose himself before he can say it. “I hurt you. With the same hand they gave me when they made me a weapon.”

“Except you didn’t. The Wakandans gave you that arm when they needed another hero on the battlefield.”

A pause, where anything but silence passes between you. “And I hurt you with it all the same.”

“You leaving me like I meant nothing hurt far more than whatever happened in that hotel room.”

“Meant nothing? Me leaving was because I lov-”

“I’ve just taken on a big case, they’ll be expecting me early in the office,” you’ve already got the door in your hand, half closed as your body retreats back into the safety of your apartment, away from the danger of Bucky’s confession. “You should go, James. Catch that train.”

Unlike him, you don’t slam doors.

He doesn’t bother returning to the subway, the time on his phone tells him all he needs to know. He’s missed that last train, and he’s not in the mood to figure out which line will get him closest to his apartment. He’ll just walk, and listen to the voicemail his phone claims Alexei has left in his inbox.

“Winter Soldier! Bucky! We all are drinking, to celebrate team’s first big win. You must join, we can talk more about being co-captains of The Thunderbolts-” “That is not our name, Alexei,” Yelena cuts him off faintly in the background.

Bucky shouldn’t have come home.

Back in the apartment, a sob is forced down.

The tears just keep coming, all you can do is surrender yourself to them, head leaned back against the door, some part of you hoping he’ll come back.

His hair is longer, new bruises mark his skin, yet the way he looks at you — like you are a sin he must atone for — is still the same.

“Was that Bucky I just heard? If yes, let me give him a piece of my mind and save ourselves a whole load of paperwork- Hey, you good?”

You pull in a breath and wipe both hands over your face before forcing a smile towards your guest.

“I’m fine, Sam,” you almost trip over his shoes in your haste to walk back into the living room. “Now come on, we have a lot of work to do if you’re serious about suing the Avengers.”

+ extra hyde !

· finished this instead of working on one of my final essays... priorities!

· idk if it anyone wants it but i'm working on a part 2, and trust i intend to not uphold the sambucky divorce from the post-credit scene

· if you're reading this and thinking "this doesn't look like the aemond fic update hyde's supposed to be posting" i'm sorry, i swear i'll be doing my best to post the next part soon! don't hate me!

[p1astr81]

heyy!! what about reader trying to avoid sleeping with oscar and he thinks that she’s not attracted to him or doesn’t want him and he gets upset after she doesn’t want to tell him what’s wrong but keeps reassuring him that she’s attracted to him and he kind of gets mad until max or someone else (who is readers best friend) tells oscar that the reader had a toxic ex who pressured her into doing stuff she was uncomfortable to do and then oscar goes on to apologize to her.

i’m sorry my explanation doesn’t make that much sense but i’m sure with your writing it’ll be really good🙏🏼(please make it like really really angsty)

warnings: the themes mentioned in the req

Sex wasn’t something that Oscar needed in a relationship. It was usually a nice bonus, but it wasn’t a requirement.

Especially when it came to you.

He loved you. He’s pretty sure he’s loved you since the first date. Which is why he hardly cared when you dodged his advances to go all the way.

Well, he hardly cared when it was new. In your first few months. But it was nearing eleven now, and he started to question whether he was the problem.

He’d just won in Monaco and raced to his drivers room with you after the race. As soon as the door was closed, he had you pinned against it. Like magnets, your lips found each other’s, Oscar taking the lead with desperation.

His hands traveled to your waist, slipped under your shirt. The contact was warm as he ventured up your torso. You knew what he wanted.

He should’ve predicted it, but he was still a little hurt when you pushed him away. “Uh,” you started, racking your brain for an excuse. “I think… media. They’re waiting for you, right?” You chuckled awkwardly, struggling to make eye contact when you saw his flushed cheeks.

He checked his watch. “I’ve still got 15 minutes.”

“Better early than late, right?” Your eyes darted around the room.

He hesitated, and then, “why do keep doing this?”

You blinked, knowing what he was talking about. You played dumb anyway. “What?”

“Pushing me away. Any time it gets slightly intimate.” The irritation rose in his voice.

Like it would make the conversation go away, you shrunk in on yourself. Despite being caught, you lied through your teeth. “I don’t push you-“

“Yes you do! Every time I touch you!” His voice got louder. Anyone walking by surely would’ve heard. And he must’ve noticed, because when he asks you a quiet, “why?” his voice has dropped.

Your misty eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape. There wasn’t one.

“Is it me?” He asked. “Are you just not attracted to me? Is it just the money? Is that why you’re with me?”

“No! Jesus, fuck, Oscar.” You shook your head, hands running through your hair. “You think that low of me?”

His eyes close, realizing his mistake. “No, I shouldn’t have said that.” He muttered.

“Of course I find you attractive. Every bit of you.”

He sighed. “Then why?”

Your mouth opened as if trying to find the words. They failed you, and your lips sealed shut.

He shook his head, a disappointed sigh passing his lips when he moved by you to leave the room. To leave you alone.

One of your friends had joined you for Monza. He minded his business, let you spend time with her. But when you dismissed yourself from the breakfast table to use the restroom, Oscar practically jumped your friend.

“Sophie.” He said desperately, leaning onto the table.

She eyed him, confused, suspicious.

He eased back. “Uhm, do you think…” god, the question was so embarrassing. “Do you think y/n likes me?”

She looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “I’d sure hope so. You’ve been dating for over a year.”

“Yeah, but, like,” he sighed. “Is she- you know, attracted to me?”

She only stared at him as if figuring out which of his five heads she was talking to. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Sophie,”

“Yes, she finds you attractive. Jesus, she raves about your looks nonstop when you aren’t around. Honestly, I wish she didn’t find you attractive sometimes.” She shook her head, taking a bite of her orange.

His next question was much harder to ask, much more personal. “Then why does she shut me down every time I try to… you know.”

Slowly, Sophie returned her orange to her plate. “Right.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “If I tell you, you can’t let her know that you know.” She said, glancing at the hall down which you disappeared. Oscar inclined his head, urging her to continue. “Her ex boyfriend wasn’t very nice. He didn’t really care what she wanted and he would…” she shifted uncomfortably. “He would pressure her into sleeping with him.”

Guilt crept up on him, growing like the vines on an abandoned house. Goosebumps sprung on his skin despite not feeling cold. He’d messed up. Incredibly so.

“Don’t even think about bringing it up. I’m serious.”

Despite nodding at the time, he did anyway. Later that night, as you were getting ready for bed. He caught you off guard. Standing in front of the bed while he sat on the bed, stomach churning with guilt and nerves.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for accusing you of not being attracted to me. I’m sorry for being a dick, I didn’t know. I didn’t know about what he did.” Oscar rambled on, finding it difficult to meet your eyes.

You stared at him, shaking your head repeatedly. You couldn’t understand. How had he— Sophie. “She told you?” Betrayal choked you, catching your breath.

“Yes but only because I asked it of her.” He confessed. Your eyes were like a window to your brain. He could see the conflict. The hurt. “Don’t be mad at her. Be mad at me.” He urged. “But I’m sorry.”

A heavy sigh passed your lips. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth and joined him on the bed, sitting on the very end. The silence was hung in the air like a thick morning fog. You stared down the thick white comforter. Meeting his eyes was too difficult a task. “I said yes once. The very first time.” You spoke. “After that…” you shook your head. “He always said I wanted it then so I obviously wanted it every other time.” It was hard for you to get out. Your stomach twisted at the memory. Your throat pinched, your voice coming out pitchy, squeaky, and quiet. Tears rolled down your cheeks in steady streams.

Oscar wanted to comfort you, to wrap his arms around you and squeeze the pain from you. But he was afraid to touch you. He was afraid of how you’d react.

You couldn’t stand the silence that followed your confession. When you finally looked up at Oscar, took in his sympathetic gaze. “Will you say something?” You sniffed. “Please?”

“Can I-“ he moved, just an inch, hesitating. “Can I hug you?”

Nodding, you reached out to him. As soon as your fingers made contact with his hoodie, you collapsed in his hold. You sniffled, head in his lap while he stroked your hair and held you. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I never wanted you to feel like it was your fault that I- that I wouldn’t-“

“Hey, don’t apologize.” Oscar soothed. “You have nothing to apologize for.” And when he kissed your head, it eased all your worries. Because he didn’t take advantage of you when you were most vulnerable. He stuck by your side until it was resolved and you were at peace.

And you loved him for it.

[valentine-cafe]

1 caramel cheesecake pls! [bottom male reader]

filthy rich spoiled reader who gets himself taught a lesson by alessio in his room while also being scared about getting caught by anyone at the estate. (alessio does NOT give a fuck)

if its too specific you can ignore this ask <3

˖⁺. “ fuck yourself, rich boy ! ” :

﹙ top outlaw male x bttm richboy male ﹚.𖹭 ݁

. . . verse 9819 alessio x male reader !! 🍓 : ﹙ outlaw ˖ serial killer ˖ illusionist character ﹚

you grew up in the comfort parts of society. high class in comparison to the rest. but what happens when you start finding yourself messing with the leader of a rebel group? well, your bratty nature lands you in a bit of a predicament. bent over in your bedroom while the outlaw himself rails you dumb. 

﹙ cws ﹚: explicit content ˖ risky sex ˖ rough sex ˖ penetrative sex ˖ degradation ˖ handjob ˖ prone bone ˖ marathon sex ˖ brat taming ˖ multiple orgasms ˖ cum-eating | wc : 1.8k 

﹙ receipts ﹚: the way I gasped when I saw this request GID I had so much fun writing it ! 

꒰  other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore  ꒱

“Talk to me, tesoro. Thought that’s all you’re good for?”

Your tie mocks the strain of your wrists, wrapped tight in a bound to your arching spine. The painful curve induced by an even tighter hand locked in your hair. Tugging every time you hang your head to let your tears of overwhelm hit the floor.

You’ll be clad in long sleeves and turtlenecks for the rest of the week with the bruises, hickies and plethora of bites all over your skin. None of that compared to the constant, hammering feel of his hips. Snapping into the backs of your thighs. Once, twice, thrice.

What is air? A luxury at this point. None of your riches could compare. Not when his swollen tip slams into that devastating bundle of nerves. Your lower lip falls from your teeth. Much like your erect dick bouncing aimlessly with every jerk of a thrust.

“Oh, but - I suppose I’m wrong, right?” Damn that deep croon to your ear. And the tickle of his dark curls on your cheekbone while you’re at it. But how could any of him crawl to the pits with the heaven that he sends you to?

Bent over in your own room. Feet between his shoes. Held like you weigh a feather as he chases bruises on your soft thighs. The claps of wet skin bounce off the walls. Merged with moans. Whines. Strangled gasps.

“You’re also good at taking cock.”

Punctuated with a harsh spank to your ass. Emerald eyes catch the ripple across your skin. He mimics it further by slamming all the way. Grinding. Humping. Any shallow slam to rub on your weak spot and huff struggled breathe from drooling lips.

But that’s not all from the wave of heated breath. A quivered: “Sh-Shut - shut uuppp -” carries in your pants. Tongue once confidently in spits of insult and disrespect now slobbers saliva all over your pristine floor. “Y-You’re a nuisance. An eyesore - a - f-fuchk-!”

Your dick twitches in the large hand squeezed around the base. His fingers are just as skilled as his hips. Cruel pumps and jerks that squirt your cum to the floor with a strangled noise bobbed from your Adam’s apple. All Alessio can do is flash a grin you catch a glimpse of in the mirror at your side. Before both palms snatch your waist and shove you back on his cock that he tames great pleasure in fucking into you faster. Harder. So that the slapping of skin rings through your ears like a sinful, broken record.

“P-Please - please o-oh god - fuckfuckfuck -”

What more can you do but arch? The lift of your spine shoves your ass into his pelvis. He takes it as an invitation to hold you firm against it since you clearly offered. Slam up into you until his balls greet your supple flesh with taps and smacks.

“P-People. . . ‘re gonna hear. Y-You jer- ah!” Another squeeze round your dick for your big mouth. Have you learnt nothing? Not that this is much of a learning experience if you can barely think.

The only thought running through your mind is the stretch of his big cock. The kiss of his veins on all your sweet spots. Their thrum. Your nerves on clear overdrive when he digs a calloused thumb into your tip and strokes until you’re teary.

You’ll squirt his palm all over again if he continues. No that he cares with the rough bucks that he fucks against your quivering hips. The deep chuckle from his throat would have have itched your palms to smack him. Alas, all you could do was wish to cling at his shoulders. Scrape down his back as he pounded you so full.

The creaking of floorboards constantly snapped your fucked-out mind from the depths of overstimulation. Were servants stepping closer. Or worse - your family?

You’d have no time to care when Alessio would withdraw to the tip then slam forward and hit your sweetspot dead on. Brimming tears to your eyes and a groan from the depths of his throat. Those emerald hues flicker to the ring of cream round his cock and he grins through sweat-drenched tresses. “What, they’ll hear? Hear you gettin’ pounded by an outlaw?”

He snaps his hips forward at that. With a power that jerks your poor body. The gasp fleeing your lips melts into a whimper when his fingers choose cruelty to your hair again. Twisting you to face the mirror as his free hand drops to your hip. A smack. A squeeze. Before he’s fucking you back into him like a ragdoll. Shoes planted firmly to the floor as he effortlessly uses your body like a sleeve.

“See what a whore you are? Cummin’ all over your fuckin’ floor and messing up this ‘expensive fabric’?”

His teeth tear into the collar of your shirt. If it weren’t for your tongue hanging out you’d cuss at him. Alas you are too preoccupied with being his little cumdump as he pumps you full once more.

You’d think he’d slow down after his second time spraying your gummy walls white. If anything it rejuvenates his punishing thrusts and turns your thighs to putty as he hammers at a sinful rhythm. Squeezing cum from the both of you and running it down your wobbly legs.

Alessio’s laugh is almost as callous as his hand that snaps around your jaw. “Look at yourself baby. First time taking cock like this? Yeah? Spoilt lil’ rich boy doesn’t know shit ‘bout the real world.”

Softness encases your front. The first in several minutes of being his tight toy. It fades with his heavy weight crushing you into the mattress after the outlaw shoved you into your sheets. Knees knocking yours apart to make way for the barrage of his mercilessly thrusts.

“A-Ah - ah-ah-ah!” Your eyes cross at the centre. He shoves your head to the linen. Another spank. Another grab at your poor, jiggling ass. He spreads you open for his imagination to picture it. Picture his veiny cock splitting you into two. Your tight rim struggling and crying around every inch. Not to mention his cum fucking out of you with every rabid hump.

“Tha’s it, yeah pretty boy. Yeah take it. Fucking whore.” His grunts drip with mockery that pours to your neck with his rough kisses. Your dick grinds and rubs into the linen. Great. Another mess to worry about later. When you come down from the high. Stuffed full of his cum and unable to stop the tremble of your thighs. “Imagine it. ‘magine them coming in - hah - seeing this - seeing you -”

The only thing to stop Alessio’s malicious laugh is the clench of your walls. He smacks your ass again in reprimand. A grunt soon follows. “Now that your ass ‘s nice ‘n full. . . apologise.” Another slam to your sweetspot.

And still, despite your eyes rolling back. Ass getting pounded for all your worth. Who knows how many concerned servants covering their ears through the halls — you wheeze.

“F-Fuck - angh - f-fuck you - fuck you, a-and - and every - god - ‘m n-not sorry-”

Your dick gets a break from the rough rubs of linen when the warm of his fingers encase it after a hand squeezes past your front flushed to the mattress. His thumb goes back to what it does best. Swirling around your tip. Squeezing the slit.

But this time he samples your sticky slick. Savors the feel of it between his fingers. Before he’s shoving your sweetness into your mouth. The pads of his index and middle press on your tongue, just as he’s pressing into the spot that makes you gurgle a sob.

“You taste that, you fuckin’ brat?” The hiss to your ear follows a thrust of his fingers. He hits the back of your throat with no care for how much you slobber all over his hand. “That’s you. Cumming like a fucking whore for me. Now lest you don’t wanna be dumped off in your foyer all creamed up and shaky. Apologise.”

The harsh ram of his cock at an angle tells you he’s not above humiliating you. After all, what’s it to him if a spoilt rich boy gets humiliated by his servants?

You’re the one constantly seeking him out. You’re the one who engages the flirts and mockeries flung across the bar of the Contraire. You’re the one who sneaks out every other day to suck off a serial killer when your parents aren’t looking.

Once he’s done finger-fucking your mouth, he withdraws with a trail of drool attached to his nail beds. Long digits grip your jaw and force your head up. So that he can hear your pretty, pitiful gasps as he shallowly pounds you sore.

“I-I - ‘m - s-sorry -”

“What was that?”

A squeeze to your throat. You gurgle on your spit and limp your head in his hold. Submit to the endless ramming of his hips into yours. Your tummy twisting and insides flaring as you cum a fourth - fifth - sixth time. “I’m - iii’mm so- s’rry - sorry-! Alessio-!”

He’s creaming you again. Stuffing you full and squirting some out to your rippling thighs and bedsheets. If only to chase after another release with the way he starts ploughing you into the sheets. His chuckle hoarse and rough like his teeth clamping on your ear.

“There we go. Finally acting like a good - mnn - fucking slut. Proud of you baby.”

Get ready to be flipped and pounded into the mattress with strong arms hooking your knees. Folding you in half. Making you his pretty boy toy to take his cock. A rich boy so full of cum from an outlaw. A man you should disgust.

One you can’t stop squeezing round the cock of.

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