#this is unfair and I will sue

[notonlymice]

Emilie de Ravin as Claire Littleton in Lost (2004–2010)

[kunasthiast]

sunshine

“you ever think about how lucky you are to have me?”

you didn’t even look up from your phone as you continued scrolling, sprawled out like a lazy cat on the living room rug (it’s comfy, okay?), half under a throw blanket.

“literally never,” you replied.

“liar,” your husband sukuna said from the couch, not missing a beat. “you’re lying and the universe knows it.”

he was half-focused on some work file on his tablet. he had his reading glasses low on his nose (which should’ve been illegal) and was wearing one of those loose black tees that hung just right on his arms. it’s like his arms were sculpted for violence and thirst traps. it was offensive, really. all of it.

a few minute passed by and you were still just scrolling on your phone. 

“you been quiet for a whole five minutes, brat. you dying or scheming?” he asked, not even glancing up.

“maybe both,” you said lazily.

that got his attention. he finally glanced at you over the rim of his glasses, flashing that signature i-know-you-want-me smirk. “if you die, i’ll sue god.”

you snorted. “you think god wants beef with you?”

“babe,” he leaned back, stretching — showing just enough abs to ruin your life, “god’s scared of me.”

a beat passed.

then you peeked over the your phone and said casually with a grin, “baby, serious question.”

“oh boy,” he muttered, lowering the tablet a little. “let’s hear it.”

you sat up cross-legged on the rug, head tilted. “every time you look at me, do you think i’m the sun or the moon?”

sukuna didn’t miss a beat. “sun.”

“oh?” you squinted at him. “so you’re saying i’m blinding and too hot to handle?”

“that,” he drawled, “and you’re dramatic, impossible to ignore, and have a dangerous habit of setting shit on fire.”

you laughed, grabbing a throw pillow and tossing it at him. he caught it without looking. “so i’m the sun, huh?”

“absolutely. you wake up and immediately decide to shine in my face whether i’m ready or not.”

“rude,” you huffed. “the correct answer was the world.”

he raised a brow. “mm. nah.”

“excuse me?!”

“you’re not the world,” he said, standing up and walking over to you — towering like the menace he is. “you’re the universe.”

you blinked. “…seriously?”

he crouched in front of you, grin widening. “yup. everything in me, around me, orbits you. even when you’re pissing me off, i still revolve around you, baby.”

you opened your mouth to say something, but your brain short-circuited halfway through. “...that’s so full of yourself.”

“no, you’re full of me,” he shot back instantly, smug and unbothered, and grinning with way too much teeth.

you groaned, shoving him away as he laughed. “you ruin everything, oh my god.”

“you asked,” sukuna laughed, snatching the pillow and smacking you gently with it. “don’t start shit you can’t emotionally recover from.”

“i hate you,” you muttered and flopped back dramatically.

“nah,” he said smugly, grabbing his tablet again. “you love me. you’re the universe, remember?”

a few minutes passed with only the soft clicks of sukuna’s tablet and your scrolling. but of course, peace in this house lasted as long as a soap bubble.

“babe,” sukuna called, not even looking up.

“hmm?”

“you know how planets revolve around stars, right?”

you groaned, already sensing the bullshit brewing. “don’t say it –”

“just saying,” he continued, smug, “i must’ve had some gravity to pull the universe.”

you stared at him. “you’re so full of shit, babe”

he finally looked up, smirking in that god-awful way that made your heart skip and your eyes roll at the same time. “and yet you married me. whose fault is that, brat?”

“definitely mine. i take full accountability for this karmic lesson,” you muttered, hiding your grin behind the throw pillow.

sukuna stood up, stretching his arms — muscles flexing in that unfair, jaw-dropping way — and walked over to you with the audacity of a man who knew he was too hot for his own good. 

“nah, you knew what you were getting into.”

he leaned down and kissed your forehead, then right under your eye, before pulling back just enough to grin at your expression. 

“but since you’re the universe,” he said, “guess that makes me your favorite star.”

“you’re a black hole,” you said flatly.

“damn right,” he said with a wink. “sucks you in and leaves you breathless.”

you choked on a laugh, smacked him with the pillow, and swore to the heavens that this man was a menace wrapped in abs.

“try harder, baby,” sukuna teased. “that weak-ass swing won’t even knock a planet off orbit. and this is planetary alignment,” he winked. again.

“god, i hate you.”

“nah,” he leaned down again, cocky as hell, “you love me. more than the sun. more than the moon.”

he paused, lips twitching. “more than sanity.”

“i’m divorcing you.”

“can’t,” he said, grabbing your hand to try and pull you up from the floor, “you’re obsessed with me.”

you just sighed, making yourself heavier, the ultimate act of petty defiance—still holding his hand.

“that’s what i thought,” he said triumphantly, letting go of your hand. “now get off the floor, we’re ordering takeout and you’re not choosing — i still have PTSD from that vegan sushi you made me try.”

“it was fusion!”

“it was trauma.”

“you are so dramatic—”

“and you,” he cut you off, pointing, “are still the universe. but don’t push it.”

you huffed, dragging yourself up. “you better be getting dessert.”

“only if you promise to orbit back to me tonight.”

“you’re disgusting.”

“you’re obsessed.”

you didn’t deny it.

[houseofhyde]

Omg maybe a soft moment w manchild Bucky and reader where they are in bed slow touches talking about their feelings and how buckys been after her for so long and how she felt it too and omg.

Maybe not tho bc I might literally die of love resding it

signs in the silence. a manchild drabble.

pairing. bucky barnes x fem!reader. synopsis. fighting off sleep to scrape a little more time together, you interrogate bucky and find out all the things sam told him about you. warnings. mentions of smut/prior sexual activity, bickering, unlabeled relationship, reader being a sore loser (uno is hell on earth when you're losing), fluff, a tiny bit of angst. reader inclusivity. like a single mention of bucky brushing away an invisible strand of hair. wordcount. 2.7k (okay so maybe idk how to only write a drabble, sue me!) hyde's input. bestie, i saw your ask enter my inbox this evening and immediately started writing it, i swear i was possessed into finishing this in one sitting. ik it's not exactly what you asked for but i hope you enjoy reading it! (unedited, we die like real men)

Curtains dance in the wind like billowing ballgowns, lifting and dipping in the arms of the night. Past the window pane, rain reigns the streets below, staining everything beneath the stormy sky. Despite the weather and the ungodly hour, the city is still wide awake and, alongside it, so are you.

“You’re cheating!”

“How am I cheating?” There’s something unfair about how jaw-dropping Bucky still looks like this: cross-legged on the bed, wearing nothing but boxers and tired eyes, and clutching a two-card hand of colourful cards. If he hadn’t just condemned you to pick up twelve, you would reach over and steal a kiss. “I don’t even know the rules to this stupid game.”

“If it’s so stupid, why do you keep beating me?” You’re begrudgingly picking up your dues and struggling to hold the stack of cards in one hand.

As he tries to help you pick up a card that slips off the edge, you swat metal fingers away.

“Begginers luck,” the soldier shrugs, placing down his second last card. “Uno.”

Yellow Seven. Fuck.

“I actually hate you,” you groan, collapsing back against feather pillows.

“You’re holding half the deck, doll,” the ill-will you feel towards him in this moment aside, you can’t help the way your heart gives a little leap at that silly name of endearment. If feelings make fools, you’re leading the pack. “There’s no way you don’t have a playable card.”

Fingertips — flesh, warm and tender with their touch — slide up the back of your calf, hooking under your knee before attempting to tug you closer, down the bed, to where he sits by the edge. Like a child throwing a tantrum, you kick your legs, shaking off his touch.

“I don’t wanna play with you any more,” between the yawn you’re fighting off and the pout that’s taken capture of your lips, you truly are a pitiful sight. The knowledge of this doesn’t stop you from throwing down your cards and making a run for it off the mattress.

Unfortunately, your roommate has the reflex skills of a ninja and, no sooner than your feet touch the ground, his arms grab you from behind and drag you into his lap.

“God you’re such a sore loser,” he mouths against the skin of your neck, trailing his lips over the kisses he already tattooed into your skin hours ago, when the sun was barely setting and he had you pressed against the walls of the shower.

“I am not!” Two fingers pinch at his arm. You quietly delight in the way it only makes him squeeze them tighter around you, biceps straining deliciously on either side of you.

“Are too!” His teeth clamp down on your earlobe, and you have to physically hold yourself back from grinding back into his lap, the burning outline of his semi-hard cock straining against navy fabric heavy on your mind. “Sam even warned me about it.”

Glancing at him from over your shoulder, you find his eyes already on you. It’s something you’re coming to learn about him, quietly and unaddressed, just how attentive of a man he is. “You seriously shouldn’t trust a word that man says. He’s an agent of chaos!”

“Hey, that’s Captain America you’re talking about,” this time, he’s pinching you and, when you squirm, he takes the opportunity to scoop an arm beneath your knees and lifts you both off the bed. “And, according to him, you once bit his sister during a game of Twister.”

“One time,” You hold up a single finger and Bucky leans his head forward to bite it. “And it was only after she nearly choked me!”

After guiding both your hands to grab on behind his neck, your soldier takes away the hand supporting your back and uses it to dust off the sheets. Cards go flying and float onto the ground, and not once does the neurotic voice, that lives in your mind and berates any disorganisation, tell you to care about the mess.

In what world could a mess on the floor be more important than the way Bucky slides you both back down atop the mattress, card-free sheets pooling over your skin as the soldier pulls you into him.

He closes his eyes for all of four seconds before you’re whispering across the pillows.

“What else did Sam warn you about me?”

Blue irises reappear, one by one, and you can see how exhaustion has stitched itself across his face. You feel a twinge of guilt, keeping him awake on a night like this, but you’re selfish and you want every extra second with him you can get.

“He said you were the most intelligent yet incapable person he’s ever met,” his legs bump against yours beneath the sheets as he shuffles a little closer. You meet him halfway, intertwining your limbs in a tangle that’s slowly growing familiar. “Nearly didn’t believe him… Then I saw you for the first time.”

“You two are real mean, you know that?” There is not an ounce of grit behind your voice, just pure unadulterated adoration that a more awake version of yourself would be doubled over, gagging at the sight of it. Stand up, girl! You can almost hear her — you — say. He’s literally just a man! “What was so incapable about me opening the door of my home to the needy, huh?”

The soldier takes capture of the hand you poke against his chest, leading it up the path to meet the soft press of his lips. This is another thing you’re learning, how constant he craves contact, a hand always at your back, or a shoulder bumping against your own, or a head buried in your neck, he’s a fiend for the feel of flesh.

“Who said that’s the first time I saw you?” He challenges.

“Oh.”

“It was months before that. Sam and I, we were hiding out at a black-market art gallery in Madripoor because of… well, that’s not important,” as if he feels the tension bubbling beneath your skin, he dances over the dangerous part of his life, the parts you don’t get to see, the parts that turn him into a single phone call for days on end. “You called Sam, one of those face-clock calls-”

“It’s facetime, grandpa,” you tease him with a smile, reward him with a press of your mouth down into his right shoulder.

“Whatever. Point is, there was a mirror behind him and that’s where I saw you,” vibranium cups its palm around your face and you turn into its touch, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he soothes your cheek. “You were crying, begging for help after smashing your shower door whilst trying to kill a spider.”

“I stand by the fact that could have happened to anyone.”

“Darling, no it couldn’t,” his laughter shakes his chest and you. It makes you want to dive deeper into his touch, feel his next laugh erupt in your own chest. “No one else would be silly enough to throw a baseball bat at a spider the size of raindrops.”

“It was jumping! And I didn’t have any spray!” You turn away from his touch, only to nestle your face in the crevices of his collarbone. Despite the chill in the air, Bucky’s a furnace against you, sheltering you from the cold. “Tell me something else Sam said.”

“Hmm,” he pauses to think, his flesh arm curling around your back and rolling you into him. He smells like Bucky but, also, you, traces of your citrus bodywash staining him hours after you lathered him in it beneath the flowing waters of the shower. Something curls in your loins, possessive and satisfied with the claim you’ve made on his skin. “That you have an insatiable sweet tooth. Backed it up with a story where he had to pry you out a bakery after failing to get some promotion at work.”

“I still can’t believe they gave it to fucking Frank,” you huff, the bitterness still present on your tongue after all these years. “They ended up firing him within a year after realising that, beneath all that manly testosterone, he was incompetent.”

“Just your type, then?” The bastard muses, effortlessly blocking the hand that’s reaching for his nipple and pressing it flat against his chest instead. You feel his heart, beating a little stronger with each pulse, there's a magnet in your palm commanding it to break free from its ribcage and fly right into your hand. “Sam said you always wanted to learn to bake, but were too lazy.”

“Too busy,” you roll your eyes, though deep down there’s a truth in Sam’s claims. “Luckily, you’re a whizz in the kitchen. And I’m not just talking about when you bend me over the counter and threaten to use the spatula to spank-”

“Why do you think I wanted to learn to bake?”

Reminiscing on your salacious adventures together quickly stops, the moment you take a second to actually think about what he’s saying, what he’s not saying. You’re both good at this game, tip-toeing around a subject you both keep bringing to light yet never fully revealing. There’s excitement in the unsaid, in the quiet touches and unmentioned actions that hint at something you’re both too stubborn to address.

Tonight will not be the night either of you give in and fold.

“Tell me something else,” oh god, there’s a yawn caught in your throat. With difficulty, you swallow it down before the soldier can point it out.

“He never warned me you were so demanding,” you whine in protest into his skin and feel the dance of his hand running up and down your back, an apology that seeps through skin and into your spine. “But he did mention you have awful taste in men.”

The hand on your back slips lower, pressing dimples into the skin at the base of your spine as you push yourself off his chest and come face to face with him. The moonlight is forgiving tonight, granting you the pretty view of his illuminated features. The fondness in his eyes, the curve of his lips, the wrinkles beginning to threaten stains upon his skin, the scars you’ve yet to ask about.

For every imperfection and every inch of adoration, he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

Something tugs at your heart.

“The worst taste,” you murmur, bringing your lips down to meet Bucky’s in a kiss that has him exhaling with relief and gripping at your skin tighter.

“Yeah?” He mumbles, stealing the air you exhale. “Tell me, what kind of man merits your attention?”

“The kind who works out every muscle but his brain,” you drag your lips over his jaw, relishing in the scrape of his stubble.

“Hey, I read!” Finally, it’s his turn to feel the sting of offense.

“Typical man, making everything about himself,” you settle back down against his chest, ear pressing close enough to where you can hear the thunder of his heart. “This is about my dream man, Buck, not you.”

“Didn’t you call me your dream man last time I ate your-”

“Anyway, I like the kind of man who listens to both my problems and my complaints, and then does whatever he can to fix things without pressuring me.” Flashback to last week, when you complained about the strap of your bag snapping half-way home only to awaken the next morning to it all stitched perfectly back together.

“You like the considerate kind then,” he whispers, and you swear you hear a twinge of nervousness on his tongue.

“And the kind who makes me feel beautiful with just a single glance at me,” exhibit A stares down at you right now, a shine in his eyes that makes you want to swoon.

“That must be any man,” he brushes a nonexistent hair off your forehead, “I mean, look at you.”

“I also like the kind of man that chases me, even when I’m too focused on what’s ahead to glance back and notice him,” there’s a strange squeeze in your throat as you swallow down a breath, thinking back on all the hints of longing he may have dropped that you’ll never know about.

“That man would still chase you, even if you never looked back,” the way he’s speaking to you and touching you, like you’re a rose petal threatening to fall off its stem, is not helping the lump in your throat. “In case you stumbled and needed someone to break your fall.”

That does you in, sends the first tear falling off your eyelash and landing on his naked chest, while you muster a quiet, “I like the kind of man who calls.”

His hands don’t freeze, and no part of him jumps with shock. Instead, his chest deflates with resignation.

“You know about the mission,” it’s not a question.

It doesn’t need to be, he already knows the answer.

“How?” This, however, is a question he needs to ask.

You shrug into him, refusing to give in to his search for your face as you focus on hiding it in the warmth of his skin, hidden from the look on his face you’re too afraid to confront. “Something just felt… different when I woke up.”

“Like what?” It’s not an accusatory thing, just a simple search for answers from a man who’s trying his best to keep you from falling apart against him.

“Well, you woke me up with your head between my legs-”

“What’s different about that? I did the same on Tuesday, too.

“And then brought me breakfast in bed.”

“You feed me, I feed you, that’s how a-” he doesn’t quite say the R word, but you feel it, in the way he seers a kiss onto the crown of your head, “Is supposed to work.”

“Then there was the three course meal waiting for me when I came home from work,” you still remember the way your heart was stuck between soaring at the sight of him setting the table as you walked into the apartment, and sinking with realisation that your suspicions were definitely true. “If all that wasn’t enough, I could tell from your touch.”

“My touch?”

“It was like… you were trying to memorise me. Not just when we were in the shower, but each time you took my hand across the table and brushed over my shoulder before clearing our plates,” you feel him sinking his fingers over your flesh, a soft squeeze at your hip. “Even now, it’s like you’re trying to hold onto me because you know you have to let go.”

“I just…” He sighs with defeat, not helping his case when he lays another kiss against your head. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“That’s okay,” you lie, for both of your sakes. “It’s not like you’ve not left to go help Sam before.”

“This isn’t before,” you both hate and adore him for the firmness he puts into the statement. “Before was different, we weren’t us.”

As much as this aches, ripping your chest apart to carve out your heart with the bitter truth of Bucky’s life as a hero catching up to whatever safe haven you two have locked yourselves away in, you’ll happily take the pain, the lump in your throat, all of it. There’s no price too high to pay to have this moment, laying in Bucky’s arms and pretending there’s no one in the city but you two, fighting off sleep for a moment more of each other’s presence and leaving fingerprint evidence of one another on your skins.

“You’ll be gone by the time I wake up,” you could get mad at him for not telling you, for the chance he almost took at leaving you another measly note on the fridge. But all you feel is the mutual ache of wanting to put off the inevitable, just a little longer. “Won’t you?”

You feel him nod, feel him squeeze his arms around you tighter, feel your heartbeats start to sync as sleep slowly guides you away from his loving gaze.

“I promise I won’t miss a single call, doll.”

[mcrdvcks]

saw this tweet and got inspired that i wrote it at 3 am in the morning before going to bed, lol (insomnia my old friend).

warnings/tags: 2.1k words, soft!bucky, fem!reader, smut, soft sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, mention of brushing hair from face, aftercare (that gets interrupted by a certain little kitty)

You’re sprawled on the living room floor, arms tucked behind your head, watching Bucky knock out push-ups like it’s nothing. His hair is half-tied, sweat clinging to his neck, and every time he dips low above you, he presses a quick kiss to your lips.

“Twenty-seven,” he murmurs against your mouth. Another peck. “Twenty-eight.”

You try to keep still, to be good, but it’s hard when he’s hovering over you like that—shirtless, muscles flexing, eyes flicking down to your lips every few seconds like he’s starving. You arch a brow. “Are you actually counting or just making out with me between sets?”

His grin is unfair. “Multitasking.”

You roll your eyes. “Uh-huh.”

“Twenty-nine.” This time the kiss lingers—soft and warm and just a little bit… distracted. His lips move against yours like he’s forgetting the workout altogether, his body lowering a touch too far as his chest brushes yours.

Then, without warning, your hands slide up to grab his shoulders, pulling him down fully until he collapses over you with a huff of laughter.

“Hey,” he says, voice muffled as he nuzzles into your neck, “you’re interrupting my form.”

“Maybe I wanted a longer kiss,” you mutter, already trailing your fingers through the damp strands at his nape. “Sue me.”

His chuckle rumbles against your collarbone. “Gotta finish my reps, baby.”

You tilt your head, letting your lips skim his jaw. “Then consider this your new set.”

That does it.

He shifts, one metal hand bracing by your head, the other sliding down your side until his fingers grip your thigh. He parts your legs with his knee slowly, deliberately, slotting himself between them as his mouth finds yours again—deeper now, slower. Hungrier.

Your breath catches, your fingers tightening in his hair.

“Still multitasking?” you whisper against his lips.

Bucky smirks. “Not anymore.”

His mouth was warm on yours again, slow and deep this time, his tongue teasing at the seam until you opened for him with a sigh. Your fingers slipped under the band of his shorts, nails dragging gently over the curve of his lower back, the skin hot and damp with sweat.

"Fuck," Bucky murmured into your mouth. "This is a way better workout."

You laughed softly, but the sound caught in your throat when he rolled his hips down against yours—slow, measured pressure that made your breath hitch and your thighs tighten around him instinctively. You weren’t wearing much, just your sleep shorts and an old tank top, and he… he was hard.

Very.

"Jesus, Buck—"

"Mmh. That’s what happens when you lie under me bein’ all cute ‘n kissable." He mouthed along your jawline, his voice honeyed and rough. "You think I’m made of steel, baby?"

"Parts of you, maybe," you teased, rocking up against him. That earned you a low groan, and the sound raked straight through your core.

"Keep that up and I’m gonna fuck you right here on the yoga mat."

"Promises, promises," you breathed, pulling his mouth back to yours.

Bucky shifted, kneeling between your legs just enough to drag your shorts down, the fabric catching slightly on your thighs before he peeled them off entirely. His gaze dropped, metal fingers brushing down the curve of your inner thigh, warm and reverent.

"Goddamn," he muttered, like it physically hurt to look at you. "You’re fuckin’ soaked already."

"Wonder why," you whispered, hips lifting toward him in offering.

He didn’t dive in. Not yet. He leaned down again, pressing kisses along your belly, your hip, the inside of your thigh like he was trying to memorize the map of you. Then his mouth reached your cunt, and the first warm flick of his tongue made you arch off the mat.

"Ah—f-fuck, Bucky—"

"Shhh." He pressed your thighs open with both hands, slow and firm, tongue curling just enough to drag a ragged little moan from your throat. "I got you."

The strokes of his tongue were gentle at first—just long, unhurried laps that made your muscles twitch. But then he sucked, just once, right over your clit, and you damn near came off the floor.

"Bucky!" you gasped, one hand flying to his hair.

He groaned low at the sound of his name on your lips like that, like it meant something. Like you couldn’t help it. His tongue flattened against you again, slower now, savoring every twitch of your hips beneath him. You tugged at his hair—half encouragement, half desperation—and he smiled against your skin.

“That good, sweetheart?” he murmured, lips brushing your inner thigh.

You nodded, too breathless to speak, hips already chasing after his mouth when he pulled back just slightly to look up at you. Your chest was heaving, tank top twisted and barely covering you now, eyes glassy and dazed with want. He could’ve stared at you like that forever—completely undone for him.

“Jesus,” he whispered, almost reverent. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty like this.”

Then he ducked his head again. This time his tongue moved with purpose, working tight circles around your clit while his fingers slid up to tease at your entrance. You moaned when he pushed one inside, then two, stretching you slowly, curling just right until your back arched off the mat.

“B-Bucky—oh my god—”

“I know, baby,” he crooned. “I know. Feels good, huh?”

He fucked you with his fingers, steady and gentle, mouth never leaving your clit. You were soaked—slick and pulsing around him—and when your legs started to tremble on either side of his head, he only doubled down.

“C’mon, give it to me,” he whispered hoarsely. “Wanna feel you come on my fingers.”

Your release crashed over you moments later, your thighs squeezing around his head as you cried out his name. He kept going through it, coaxing every last tremble and twitch from you until your hand tugged at his hair again in a half-sob, overwhelmed.

He finally pulled back, lips slick, eyes dark with adoration.

“Hi,” he said softly, crawling up your body and pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek, then your lips. You could taste yourself on his tongue and it only made you whimper.

“Hi,” you breathed back, still trembling a little. “That was… not a push-up.”

He laughed, a warm rumble against your chest as he pulled you into his arms, cradling you like you were breakable.

“Nope,” he agreed. “That was cardio.”

You buried your face in his neck, giggling breathlessly. “God, I love your workouts.”

“Yeah?” he grinned, nudging your nose with his. “Good. ‘Cause I’m nowhere near done with my sets.”

You were still trying to catch your breath when he hooked an arm under your thigh and shifted—rolling his hips against you again, cock heavy and throbbing against your sensitive center. Even through the fabric of his shorts, the pressure made your body jolt with aftershocks.

“Bucky—” you breathed, voice catching. “Too soon…”

He kissed the corner of your mouth, slow and sweet. “Then let me be gentle, sweetheart.”

You didn’t have the strength to argue—not when he pulled back just far enough to shove his shorts down, revealing the thick line of him, flushed and dripping at the tip. He stroked himself once, then again, groaning low in his throat as he looked at you. Legs still spread, body flushed and trembling, eyes locked on him like he was something holy.

“Look at you,” he murmured, almost like it hurt. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty it makes me stupid.”

You cupped his jaw, thumb brushing along the stubble on his cheek. “Then come be stupid with me.”

That broke him. He lined himself up, dragging the head of his cock through your slick folds, slow and teasing until you whimpered and lifted your hips in a silent plea. Bucky groaned at the sound, bending down to kiss you as he started to push in—inch by inch, filling you until you gasped into his mouth.

“Shit, baby,” he hissed, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re so warm… always so tight f’me.”

He moved carefully at first, rocking his hips in smooth, shallow thrusts as he kissed you—your mouth, your cheek, the tip of your nose. Everything about him was overwhelming in the best way: the stretch, the heat, the love in his eyes as he watched your body take him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in, needing him close—all of him. His chest pressed against yours, heartbeat pounding through both your bodies as he began to move a little faster, a little deeper, letting the rhythm build naturally.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Feels so good, Bucky…”

“I know, baby.” His voice was rough and low, but gentle. “You’re doin’ so good for me. Always so perfect.”

Each thrust made your toes curl, the way he filled you just right—just enough pressure, just enough drag. He kept one hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your thigh to anchor himself as he rocked into you, slow and worshipful.

“I love you,” you whispered.

That did something to him. His movements faltered for half a second, and then his mouth was everywhere—your jaw, your neck, the hollow of your throat—as he thrust deeper, groaning like he couldn’t bear to hold back anymore.

“I love you too,” he gasped against your skin. “So fuckin’ much, baby—don’t even know what to do with it.”

You were close again, the pressure building so sweetly it almost hurt. Your nails dug into his back, your breath coming in gasps, and Bucky felt it—knew it.

“That’s it,” he panted, lips brushing your cheek. “Let go for me. I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

You came with a shuddering cry, clinging to him as he held you through it, whispering soft praises into your ear. A few more thrusts and he followed with a low, broken groan, burying himself deep as his release spilled inside you, warm and pulsing.

Bucky didn’t move for a while, just breathed with you—your heartbeats slowly syncing in the warm silence of the living room. The yoga mat was definitely not meant for sex, but the way his body covered yours, keeping you grounded and safe, made everything else irrelevant.

Eventually, he shifted just enough to look at you, brushing the damp hair back from your face with gentle fingers. “You okay, doll?”

You nodded sleepily, your legs still loosely wrapped around his waist. “Mmm. Might be dead, actually.”

He chuckled, nose brushing yours. “You’re not dead. You’re just well-exercised.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, but you were grinning. “Your definition of cardio is criminal.”

He kissed your temple, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. “C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You whined when he pulled out, hips twitching at the loss of warmth. He soothed you with another kiss, this one soft and lingering, before standing—naked and shameless as ever—and offering you his hand.

You took it with a dramatic groan. “If I can’t walk, I’m blaming you.”

“You say that like it’s a threat,” he smirked, helping you upright and into his arms. He didn’t even bother grabbing your shorts—just scooped you up bridal-style and padded down the hall toward the bathroom like you weighed nothing.

“Show-off,” you muttered, resting your head against his shoulder.

He just hummed and pressed a kiss to your hair.

The bath was quick, lazy, and full of sleepy kisses and wandering hands—but no more than that. He washed you gently, careful with every touch, even when you teased him for the way he cooed over your sore thighs. He even gave your forehead a little kiss after toweling you off.

“Such a sap,” you whispered, smiling into his chest as he wrapped you in one of his old T-shirts.

“Only for you,” he murmured, his voice low and sweet.

Back in the living room, Bucky tossed the rumpled yoga mat aside and collapsed onto the couch with you on top of him, arms wrapped securely around your waist. You nestled against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, your fingers tracing the faint line of a scar near his collarbone.

Just when you were about to fall asleep, a soft meow broke the peace.

You cracked one eye open. “No.”

But it was too late.

Alpine jumped delicately up onto the couch, tail flicking, and immediately made her way across Bucky’s stomach like it was her designated nap zone.

“Alpine,” Bucky said, voice full of fake betrayal, “I just had her, baby, c’mon…”

Alpine responded by kneading into his abs and curling up in the most inconvenient position possible—smack between the two of you.

“She’s jealous,” you said sleepily, reaching over to scratch behind her ear. “You ignored her during your little cardio routine.”

“I was a little busy.”

“She doesn’t care.”

Bucky sighed dramatically, stroking Alpine’s back with one hand while the other curled tighter around your waist.

“Fine. Family cuddles it is.”

You smiled and nuzzled into his neck. “Best set yet.”

[captain-huggy-bear]

Guard Dog

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Spoilers for the Washington Capitals game (Jan 2025), anger/conflict, derogatory commentary towards Reader

Summary: You are feeling particularly protective of Quinn after the game against the Washington Capitals and run into Dubois.

Notes: I was ready to throw hands at Dubois for purposefully seeking out and trying to hurt Quinn so...

Apologies to Dubois but he's now my arch nemesis and if I was actually dating Quinn I know I'd hold a grudge, sorry, I'm sure you're a great guy but...not today. Reminder that I am writing a fictional version of these people and what I do write is not representative of them in real life. Don't sue me, Dubois, this is fictional you, not real you. 👀

Also I don't think Quinn is generally violent or aggressive but I do think that if he felt someone he loved was being treated in a way that was disrespectful/aggressive, that he wouldn't avoid conflict. Protective boy in my eyes.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

You wanted to say that you were used to watching how violent hockey could get, especially when that violence was directed at Quinn, but that would be a lie.

Watching as Quinn was practically attacked by Dubois, watching him be targeted had you gasping and jumping to your feet in an instant. The way he knocked Quinn to the ground had your heart thudding in your chest and you'd gotten to your feet instinctively like you could physically go out and defend him, like you had any ability to do something when in reality you were completely helpless, stuck behind glass.

That intense feeling of protectiveness had only increased as Quinn was pulled from the scrum by Dubois again like he was being hunted down, targeted. It grew almost unbearable, a protectiveness mixed with anger, as you watched Quinn try to keep his distance, shoving away from Dubois even as he tried to hold him close, as Quinn tried to protect himself while avoiding roughing himself, only to receive a penalty anyway. That anger grew watching the way Quinn was stuck in the penalty box, the way he was desperate, standing, wanting to get out after his 2 minutes, only to be stuck because play was ongoing for another 3 minutes.

You had never hated a player before. Players had upset you in the past, annoyance at the way they'd dealt with something or how they'd behaved towards Quinn, but you'd never seen someone so determined to hurt your boyfriend. It was that sheer targeting, the way Dubois followed Quinn, gunned for him for no reason, especially given he was still sporting a hand injury, that had you hating him immediately. It had you itching to say something, do something for the entirety of the game. You could barely concentrate on the actual game, too amped.

You couldn't help the way your leg bounced angrily the entire game, the way you bit your lip, the way your mind ran through all the things you'd like to say to Dubois about his behaviour. That feeling didn't disappear as the game ended and you waited outside the locker room for Quinn, if anything it grew from how hard you tried to suppress it. You felt a little like a ticking time bomb.

That anger boiled over the moment you saw Dubois coming down the corridor towards you after the game. Dubois was freshly washed and changed, laughing with his teammate, Roy, like he hadn't been trying to hurt your boyfriend for half the game. You tried to keep your comments to yourself, but couldn't keep the angry glare, the deep scowl, from your features as you leant against the wall, arms crossed. You knew you were giving him the evils, that if looks could kill he'd have died five times over, but you couldn't force your face into neutrality, not when you felt that buzz of anger in your chest. It was dangerous for him to target Quinn like that, it was unfair, it made you wish you were 6ft 8 and built like a brick shit house so at least you could throw a punch in Quinn's honour. Instead you had been absolutely helpless, unable to do anything but watch.

You heard it muttered, whispered, an exchange of 'what's her problem?' and 'that's Hughes' girl...', that had you almost vibrating with anger. Dubois should have left you well enough alone, should have read the room and let you cool down. He shouldn't have assumed he could mess with you in that moment. But, since when have hockey players ever missed a chance to chirp?

You watch him stride up to you, a glint in his eyes that spelled trouble and only served to push more adrenaline through your body.

"You got a problem with me?"

"Walk away." Your voice is clipped, short, an attempt to maintain a sense of decorum, to control your anger because the last thing you want is to embarrass Quinn by getting into a fight with a rival hockey player on the same night his team lost a game. The last thing you want to do is make matters worse and in the words of Marie from Aristocats 'ladies don't start fights'.

"Or what? You going to cry cause I grabbed your little boyfriend?" His sneer reminds you of every bully you've ever known your entire life. Brutish, stupid, and with a deep desire for power and control, the sort of desire that causes them to be nasty, be mean, to try to hurt people because it shows that they can. It only makes it harder for you to control your feelings, nails digging into the palms of your hands as you clench your fists tight, like that will help keep you back.

"I'm telling you to walk away because I will not be responsible for what I say or do if you don't. Walk away." It was probably comical to him, the way you stepped forward and squared off with him, a man well over 6ft tall. You were relatively small in comparison. It didn't matter to you though, all that mattered was the fact he'd gunned for Quinn, for your lovely, kind boyfriend who avoided fights at all costs and tried to always be a reasonable, decent player. Your boyfriend who tried to play clean. Your boyfriend who was still injured. Your boyfriend who was under an insane amount of pressure right now. Your boyfriend who had only just come back off of rest for his injury.

"You've got some balls on you, lady, more than Hughes does at any rate."

You're certain your eye twitches, certain you're one bite away from causes your bottom lip to bleed. Certain that you've dug half moon circles into your palms. Certain that murder doesn't seem quite that bad of a crime right now and that you could survive prison.

"Walk. Away. Now."

"So you're the man in your relationship, huh? Is Hughes your pretty princess?" It's the hateful, misogynistic attempt to demean Quinn that causes you to snap. It's his refusal to just walk away, the goading, the pushing, the way he steps closer into your personal space, leers over you in an attempt to intimidate you with his size that finally does it. But, he doesn't seem to realise that you're too angry to be intimidated, you're not really thinking about yourself, about the situation, about the fact he's twice your size. So it doesn't matter that he could break you if he wanted to. It doesn't matter that he should be scary. He's not in that moment, because you're simply too angry, vibrating with rage.

"You're a vile, disgusting human being,y'know that? He's still injured, you fucking knew that and fucking went for him? What the fuck did he do to you? You trip him, you gun for him, you then try to pull him from the scrum?! What the fuck is wrong with you?" You could each infraction off on your fingers as you move into his space and push the two of you further into the centre of the corridor.

Maybe it's how loud you are or maybe it was just good timing, but Quinn and Boeser step out of the locker room just in time to see you yelling in Dubois' face, to see the grin on his lips like he's enjoying it. It's honest to god fear, mixed with a protectiveness that he always feels for you, that has Quinn practically sprinting the short distance to you.

He's pretty sure you don't realise you're shaking with anger or how close you've gotten to Dubois, practically nose to nose, leaning up while he leans down, until his arms are wrapping around you and pulling you back against his chest. Even in his arms you're shaking with adrenaline, eyes fixated on Dubois like a look is enough to put him in the ground.

Dubois' eyes shift to him, and Quinn can't help the set of his own features, the stern glare that he directs to the other man even as he's smirking back at him. If anything the way he seems to be enjoying this makes Quinn's expression sterner.

"Keep your little plaything on a fucking leash, Hughes." The grin Dubois sends his way is toothy, predatory, the sort of grin that tells Quinn he knows what he's saying and he knows what reaction it'll get. It doesn't stop Quinn's shoulders from tensing, it doesn't stop the tightness in his chest and it certainly doesn't make it easier for him to keep his usually cool head.

"What did you just say?" It's almost whispered, low, quiet, and it makes you stop shaking in Quinn's arms because there's something deadly about it, something that tells you not to push him right now even when you're not the one it's directed at. Something that makes you still in surprise.

"I said keep your little plaything on a fucking leash."

There's a prolonged pause, one in which Quinn looks back behind him, eyes finding Boeser, a silent sort of conversation happening between them, an agreement reached.

"Brock?"

"I got her." The blonde man steps forward as Quinn turns you in his arms and pushes you gently to Brock, Boeser pulling you into his own arms and away from the other two men.

"Quinn?" You're not sure what's happening other than the fact that the fear is starting to set in. All that anger, the adrenaline that had kept you so focused on Dubois, had started to fade. It left behind a shaky sort of anxiety, as reality hit you, that this was not just a simple argument anymore.

You gasp and move back into Boeser as you watch Quinn turn back to Dubois and just as suddenly grab him by the collar of his suit jacket, slamming him back against the wall. While Quinn is shorter, he's certainly not small or weak by any stretch of the imagination and Dubois doesn't expect it as he's shoved full body into the wall behind him, his feet struggling to keep up with the harsh movement backwards.

Quinn is nose to nose with him, glaring up at him with a look you can only describe as murderous, "You ever talk about her like that again and I will break your fucking nose. You don't ever talk to her or about her like that. Do you hear me?" The interesting thing about it, is how Quinn doesn't have to yell. In fact, his voice low, but it's the edge to it, the way it feels sharp enough to cut that makes his feelings clear.

"Oh? Now you think you're a big man, what you gonna do with that hand of yours?" Dubois' eyes shift to the brace on Quinn's left hand, the one that you can see trembling under it's own grip. It upsets you, that he's hurting himself for you, that you started this, as much as part of you preens under his protection.

"My right hand is just fine, Dubois. Yours won't be if you don't back the fuck down." Maybe it's the way Quinn's eyes narrow. Maybe it's the way his teeth grind together. Maybe it's the way he shoves Dubois even harder into the wall or maybe it's something else entirely, but something seems to make Dubois realise that Quinn is serious. That Quinn has every intention of fighting for you if he has to, if the disrespect is not corrected, if Dubois doesn't back down.

Maybe Dubois simply doesn't care enough or maybe he's intimidated by Quinn because he mutters, "Whatever...", hands shoving Quinn's away from his collar, one last glare exchanged before he and Roy walk away, whispering the entire time.

You're practically shaking in Brock's arms, Brock who releases you gently once Dubois and Roy walk away, Brock who backs away to the locker room with one last look to Quinn, leaving the two of you by yourselves.

Quinn's shoulders drop, relax as he watches the two men turn the corner and disappear out of sight, before green eyes shift to you, features softening into something affectionate and gentle. A stark contrast with his expression mere moments before.

He's the one who reaches for you, stepping until he's in your personal space, hands resting on the sides of your face like he thinks you might physically be hurt.

"You okay?" His voice is soft, sweet, as his thumbs brush your cheeks, green eyes darting over your features, trying to assess how you are and if he needs to chase after Dubois and teach him a lesson or two.

Quinn will openly admit he's not a fighter nor does he want to be, but the strong surge of protectiveness in him overrides his usual aversion to violence. He'd fight anyone for you, if it meant you were respected, protected, safe. He doesn't care that Dubois gunned for him out on the ice, all he cares about is the way he got into your face out in the corridor.

"Am I okay? Are you okay? He almost took you out on the ice!" Even as you say it your voice is shaky. Quinn knows you better than he knows most people, he can hear that shake a mile off, knows that that shake is a sign you're not okay, that that shake usually comes before a break.

It's why he doesn't answer you, it's why he pulls you fully into his arms, wrapping them around you until you're chest to chest.

So he asks again, "Baby, are you okay?" Only to feel the way your body starts to shake aggressively in his arms, like your body has just caught up to the situation, like the adrenaline has fully left your system, leaving only the after effects.

His voice is soft as he mutters to you, "Oh, you really worked off instinct, huh? Just now realising you nearly fought a 6ft 2 hockey player for me?" Quinn's quick to pull you tighter against him, a full body crush, rocking you side to side as his cheek presses into your hair. His hands rub up and down your back, attempting to sooth you as the reality of it all fully kicks. As you realise how stupid it was of you to do that, how scary the situation actually was, how you should have just walked away.

"Fuck...did I just really do that?" Your voice is shaky, almost wet, like you might start crying.

"Uh huh...yeah, you did, baby." His voice is almost amused, sympathetic, now the worst of it is over Quinn can't help but find your actions endearing. The way that you, of all people, decided you'd go toe to toe with a massive hockey player on his behalf.

"Fuck." You press your forehead against his chest, letting out a shaky breath as he rocks you from side to side. You don't regret it, not really. You'd defend Quinn to the death, you love him and that meant protecting him, just like he'd protect you. But, you have to admit, it wasn't perhaps your smartest idea or your finest moment.

"It was kind of hot, baby, but please don't do that again. I nearly had a heart attack seeing you nose to nose with him." Quinn's actually certain his heart stopped when he walked out of the locker room. You'd seemed so...fragile in comparison to Dubois and while he knew you, knew you weren't weak, it had scared him. The idea of you getting hurt was one of his nightmares, even more so you getting hurt because of him.

You pull back as far as he'll let you which really isn't very far, tilting your head back to look at him, "You nearly fought him for me..." your voice is almost disbelieving like you can't understand why he'd step in like that for you, his girlfriend.

"Yeah, I did.." Quinn's smile is soft, loving, eyes crinkling at the corners as you practically gape at him.

"But you don't fight." You look so confused that it almost breaks his heart because who taught you that you were unworthy of protection, who taught you that the people who love you wouldn't step in when needed?

"I'd fight for you. Any day. Any week. Any time. I'll always fight for you, baby. You're my girl." He says it like it's just a fact of life. Like 2 +2 = 4 or that water is wet. He says it like it is the most natural thing to exist.

"But...you don't like to fight." He hates fighting, you know because whenever he gets in one on the ice or has to break one up, he complains when he gets home. You know because everything about Quinn is gentle and soft, always slow to anger and quick to find a diplomatic solution.

"Yeah, I know." Quinn smiles at you amused, "But I love you and if the choice is between protecting you or not fighting, I'm always going to pick you. That's what you do when you love someone. You'd protect me, right?"

"Of course." You don't even hesitate because it's like breathing, that instinct to look after him because you love him because he's your person.

"Then there's your answer, sweet girl" He watches the way you nod like it is starting click, like it makes sense. His hands brush cross your shoulders, tugging you into his side, twisting so his arm is slung over your shoulders. Your shaking has long since stopped and whatever anger both of you felt has since faded under the sweetness of realising you're both loved, both protected.

"You wanna go back to the hotel? Enough excitement for one night, huh?"

"Mmm, yeah...You're okay though, right? Your hand?" You shift under his arm, eyes looking to his left hand and the brace there, watch the way he flexes his fingers as if to remind himself he can.

"I'm okay, baby, especially knowing I have you to fight my battles for me." Quinn kisses the crown of your head, the scent of your shampoo filling his nose as he pulls you tighter to his side.

In that moment the hotel room sounds great, home would sound even better, but you think home might actually just be Quinn and wherever he is.

[monzabee]

lawyer up (social media au) - lh44

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where Lewis is dating a lawyer, who might or might not love her job a bit too much.

Pairing: lewis hamilton x lawyer!reader (model used: random people i've found on the internet and also kendall jenner in like one part so it doesn't count)

Warnings: none other than some cursing

Author note: you all know who this is based off of... MIRANDA IS HEREEEEEE (not really but still lol) and i love this one so i hope you also like it as much as i do because i was feeling a bit overwhelmed and needed a little bit of self indulgence!! p.s. also, i actually planned for a max fic for today but after that delicious lewis win, i think we all deserve this one besties!!

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

yourusername

Liked by lewishamilton, f1wagss, yourbestfriend and 23,746 others.

yourusername: what, like it's hard?

yourusername: lol, yes, yes it is

user: ugh, she is who i wanna be when i grow up

user: who wants to bet lewis makes her read his contracts before signing them

user: okay but why is it the cutest thing ever, i'm SO in

lewishamilton: hey, i'll take that bet

view all 564 comments.

user: HOW DO THEY FIND THE TIME TO BE TOGETHER, THEY NEVER KNEW A DAY OF REST POOR BABIES

user: girl... they're in their thirties... relax...

yourbestie: will be bringing you coffee for the thousandth time this week

yourusername: you're an angel

yourusername

Liked by yourworkbestie, lewishamilton, user and 34,736 others.

yourusername: today is a good day to make an old white guy cry🤍

user: MA'AM YOU'RE GOING TO GET FIRED

user: mother is out for revenge i wonder what this is about

yourusername: if it weren't for that nda...

user: she really won the idgaf war, hasn't she?

view all 827 comments.

lewishamilton: you're making me regret what i've told you

yourusername: good, maybe that'll teach you a lesson🫠

yourusername: let the record show this is NOT a good kind of melting puddle emoji

lewishamilton: ouch, sustained

user: ARE MOMMY AND DADDY FIGHTING NOOOO

user: if lewis did something stupid we all know she's going to sue his ass, right??

lewishamilton shared a story!

lewishamilton

Liked by yourusername, mercedesamgf1, charles_leclerc and 1,827,728 others.

lewishamilton: family time off

user: OH HE TOOK HER TO TAKE SOME TIME OFF

user: still don't understand how he bagged her, but good for them

user: why the shirtless pic?? who is getting fired now??

user: okay this joke has gone too far

yourusername: my babies

lewishamiton: maam i'm a grown ass man

yourusername: and??

view all 100,827 comments.

user: in the middle of the season?? he is down baddd

user: i'm dying, they are too cute

charles_leclerc: have fun on your trip!

mercedesamgf1: we miss you at the factory!

yourusername: no you don't

lewishamilton shared a story!

paddockgossipf1

Liked by user, f1wagss, f1gossipandwags and 23,973 others.

paddockgossipf1: lewis hamilton and y/n y/ln at the paddock amidst breakup rumours, it appears that she was a part of the hot lap portion of the events.

user: notice how they are never together alone and only smiling for the cameras? yeah we're so done

user: girl relax, take a pill, take a shower, take a walk

user: BUT ARE WE GOING TO GET THE VIDEO OF HIM DRIVING HER FOR THE HOT LAP

user: not gonna lie, they seem fine to me

user: BITCH THEY ARE FINE LOOK AT THEM

view all 3,287 comments.

user: i just know that she won't let him drive her around after this

user: it's so unfair for two good looking people of this caliber to be in a relationship

yourusername

Liked by lewishamilton, georgerussel63, mercedesamgf1 and 32,928 others.

yourusername: slightly over the speed limit, as always

user: LIFE ON THE HIGHWAAAY

user: omg girl famous last words rip

yourusername: you have no idea

yourusername: i should sue

user: OMG MOTHER

georgerussel63: the lad in the sunglasses looks good

user: NOT THE GEORGE CAMEO HI KING

lewishamilton: come on it wasn't that bad

yourusername: you are a maniac

lewishamilton: 🙁

yourusername: 🤍

view all 16,298 comments.

user: have they adopted george i need to know

user: poor roscoe has a new brother and he doesn't even know

[gay-dorito-dust]

I have something for Johnny if you want.

Johnny x shy!reader that has scarlet witch powers? Being Johnny girlfriend and Johnny family adores shy!reader

‘I’m starting to think my family likes you more then me at this point.’ Johnny says one day as he face planted your shared bed.

‘How so Johnny?’ You asked sweetly as you waved your hand as you brought a blanket over your boyfriend’s body with your magic, never failing to notice the soft smile that grew across his face as he lifts himself from the pillow to face you.

‘Are you kidding me? I mean look at you!’ He exclaims as he gestures to all of you shamelessly, making you feel a little exposed by his beautiful brown doe eyes that never seemed to fail in making you melt. ‘You’re sweet, compassionate, adorable to an unfair extent it makes me question how a being as beautiful as you could exist, and did I forget to mention that you’re an absolute badass with your powers?’ Johnny adds with a smirk as he saw how easily affected you were by his words as he counts off everything he found to adore you for on his fingers.

You groan playfully as you smacked Johnny on his bicep, a sheepish smile began to spread across your lips, all the while attempting to fight back the butterflies that were making their presence known within your stomach. It didn’t matter if you were dating Johnny for a few weeks or a few months, for he would always find ways to make you feel as though no time has passed between the two of you.

You at first didn’t want anything to do with the cocky, overly confident, playboy known as Johnny Storm and stayed away from him for a good while…until you couldn’t and it lead to what you considered the best decision you ever made in agreeing to let him take you on a date. However recently Johnny’s sister Sue, her husband Reed and Ben had been taking note of the subtle changes within johnny and knew someone was the reason behind it, which had lead to Johnny dragging you to the Baxter building more times then you can count to meet his family; whom of which had grown a fondness towards you and your positive influence on Johnny himself.

‘Johnny…’ you drew out his name as you buried your head into his shoulder, holding him close as you selfishly leeched off of his warmth, not that you’d ever tell him this but you were certain with how eager he was to keep you in his arms chuckling. He was very much aware and was more than willing to indulge you as he was just as much addicted to your soft, comforting hugs that he swore to high heavens he would die without.

‘I’m not lying! You should hear them half of the time! Where’s y/n? Johnny, go get your better looking partner. Johnny, where is my future sibling in law, you can’t hog them all the time.’ Johnny replied as he made dramatic voices for the likes of Sue, Ben and Reed based on the most recent interactions with them, most of which were asking for you or wondering how you were in general. Johnny didn’t mind, if anything he was downright ecstatic knowing that his family were just as obsessed with you as he was, he adored how you and his sister got along the most; knowing straight away from the moment he found you and his family sharing stories in the kitchen that this was something he wanted to see more often in the future.

Commitment wasn’t his thing, it never was until he met you, and as cliche as that sounded -and he knew just how cliche it came across- but it was true and Johnny wouldn’t want it any other way. He’d even claim you had put some type of spell on him, to which you only hide your smile from his groan inducing joke in regard to your magical abilities. He even remembered the day that he realised that you were the type of person he wanted to bring to his family, something he never gave a deeper insight into before you mind you as he never felt that deep of connection.

So everyday when he wakes up to see you cuddled into his side peacefully and safely, he considered himself the most luckiest man alive, and he didn’t bother to hide it either as he bragged to anyone with ears that someone as wonderful as you had chosen a hotheaded stud muffin -his words- like him.

You smiled as you cuddled further into him, knowing firsthand that he was right, and you were still getting use to the idea that his family adored you from the moment Johnny brought you to your first of many Sunday family diners. You remembered sweating bullets and tugging at your formal attire, but Sue and Reed were more than welcoming and reassuring, meanwhile Ben was full on teasing Johnny about how he was growing into a true man.

However before you could respond you were quick to remember that you were very much late for your day out with Sue. You gasp upon realisation as you push Johnny away from you, who fell back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling in disbelief that you had just pushed him away. ‘I’m late!’ You cried as you moved away from your baffled boyfriend, who had propped himself to his arms.

‘Late for what?’ Johnny asks as he watched you sort yourself out for an outing he wasn’t aware was taking place.

You smiled softly, not wanting to give too much away of what you and Sue had planned prior. ‘Sue wanted help to find something for Reed for Valentine’s Day, and I agreed to help her.’ You half lied, well you weren’t lying about helping his sister find something for Reed, but what you had left out was the fact that you were also using this time to find something for Johnny yourself. To you he deserved something for being such an amazing partner, and you were thankful that Sue was more than happy to help you in doing so during your most recent late night conversations with the blonde woman.

‘I just want to find something for him that he’ll love,’ you told Sue as you allowed your magic to flourish between your fingertips, a nervous habit you had developed the moment you realised that you were capable of feet’s no other magic user has ever accomplished before, it was a comfort to you and brought your mind back to what was most important to you and what was most important to you was Johnny smiling.

She smiles, glad to know that her brother was blessed with someone like you, reached out to grab your hand in hers as she squeezed it in reassurance. ‘Whatever you get him, I’m certain Johnny will treasure forever.’

‘Really? You really think so?’ You asked her, still a little nervous despite having been with Johnny for a while, but that man had a way to make you feel as though you were falling for him all over again and you wanted to hate him for it, and yet you found yourself becoming shy and flustered whenever the man even threw his arm over your shoulder. If this was what love was like then you hoped to stay in this never ending state of adoration and mutual understanding for as long as you could.

‘I know so.’ Sue replied, her eyes had a knowing look to them. ‘Johnny would take anything you give him becuase you were the one that give it to him, that thought that he would like it and all he’ll care about is that you had him on the mind and to show that you care about him.’ She finished, squeezing your hand again when she saw sparks of your magic come to life at your fingertips, rubbing her thumb across the back of your hand. You smiled at her. ‘Then I can’t wait for tomorrow.’ You tell her, beaming.

Johnny smiled from his place on the bed, again happy to see you and his sister bond and become close to one another, it was a simple thing that he didn’t know he needed but then again that was the magical thing about you. You made him want simple and small things that he would’ve taken for granted, or not even considered in the first place, and for that he couldn’t help but find himself wanting moments like this in your future together.

However before Johnny could open his mouth to push you for more details on your outing with his sister, the door opened to reveal Sue stood on the other side, obviously having been waiting for you but not showing an ounce of annoyance in the slightest.

‘I’m here to steal your partner.’ Sue says to her brother as she grasps your arm, pulling you to her side.

‘Not the first time my beloved is being stolen from me by you, Reed or Ben.’ Johnny scoffs playfully as he watched you and Sue link arms, already acting like you were in laws for a long time with how relaxed and comfortable you were with one another.

‘Oh you can have them back as soon as we’re finished shopping.’ Sue retorted.

‘So like ten hours from now?’ Johnny sarcastically replies with and you couldn’t help but laugh at the sibling squabble, making him look at you with a warm smile. ‘Don’t I get a goodbye kiss at least from my most beloved?’ Before you could give him his kiss, Sue drags you out of the room with her and out the door, though not before shouting over her shoulder followed by your laughter. ‘You’ve had enough time today to trade kisses, now you have to wait.’

Johnny only groans dramatically as he flops back onto his bed, impatiently waiting for you to come back not even seconds after you left his room, he really was in love like the sappy bastard Ben teased him in being.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

So I'm putting together an In Defence of Cassie PowerPoint for a PowerPoint night with friends. Do you have any arguments for or against her? I trust your opinion and am curious.

Let's see.

"She's too powerful, too unique, too far-seeing, and not good enough for Jake! What a Mary Sue!"

Counterpoint: May I introduce you to the reigning champion fan favorite, Sad White Boy Tobias?

Only nothlit ever to regain the ability to morph

Only known human-andalite hybrid ever to exist

Regarded as savior by entire hork-bajir species

Entire existence is a time paradox the war hinges upon

Pulls the canonically "most beautiful girl in our grade", who turns down 6 or 7 other offers in favor of Bird Boy

Correctly predicted planetary ecology 65 million years in advance

Believed to be immune to 2-hour limit

In conclusion: y'all wouldn't be crying "Mary Sue" if Cassie was a sad white boy, and I can prove it.

"She's too weak and hand-wringing, and she never helps the war effort!"

Counterpoint: First of all, the fact that the same people say this in the same breath as "she's too powerful" is... telling. Secondly:

She saved the entire team's lives in #24, in #29, in #44, and in MM1, among others.

Specifically calling out #44 — that ending shows she is willing and able to be ruthless when her friends are in need. She doesn't like slaughtering human-controllers, but if the alternative is everyone she loves dying, then she'll fucking well do it.

Much like Jake (see: Sad White Boy), she's more willing to risk herself than her friends, hence the end of MM1

Her medical knowledge saves Marco from rabies, Ax from brain!appendicitis, and Tobias from bird flu.

Her survivalist knowledge saves everyone in #25 (the Arctic), MM2 (Cretaceous Era), #11 (rainforest), and #14 (desert).

In conclusion: Cassie's only idealistic-looking by the standards of this extremely morally gray team.

"She's so unfair to Jake!"

Counterpoint: Jake? The Jake who refused to speak with her for weeks? Jake who proposes marriage while they're still broken up? Jake who announces he'll never trust Cassie again because she [checks notes] saved his brother's life? That Jake?

Also:

She gives him tons of emotional support in #16, #21, #47, and other times he's feeling low.

They have a healthy argument where they air differences and come to an understanding in #9.

Did I mention he doesn't just dump her but ghosts her in the middle of the war's endgame?

They're teenagers. Their relationship isn't perfect, but it is built on open communication and mutual respect which is more than Rachel and Tobias can say

She's fighting a war, and PTSD for that matter. No, she doesn't have infinite emotional bandwidth.

In conclusion: Their relationship is fine, their breakup is mutual, and her behavior only looks bad if, once again, you're holding Cassie to a different standard than you are Jake.

"She shouldn't have trusted Aftran!"

Counterpoint: friendly reminder that the alternative was killing a 6-year-old for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. If that's what you think Cassie should've done, that tells us more about you than about her.

"She spends too much time moralizing!"

Counterpoint: this is a book series about war, not a friggin' video game. If you want moral pornography, go play Call of Duty. If you want sci fi realism, then you're going to have to accept that a majority of humans prefer not to kill their fellow humans if at all possible.

"She's a ripoff of [insert character here]!"

Counterpoint: literally every single one of these says more about the commenter than about the source work. "Every dystopia is set in the U.S." is the kind of thing only people who only read books by American authors would think. "All epic fantasy is Eurocentric" => tell me you only read books by white people without telling me. I'm glad you think Cassie is too similar to Willow Rosenberg, but there are at least 6 other stories in the known world, and I hear some of them even feature sweet/dorky/caring characters who are secretly ultra-powerful.

In conclusion: You don't have to like Cassie as a (fictional) person, but 85% of criticisms directed at her are bad-faith attacks on one of the 1990s' only fat Black female gnc ultra-powerful superheroes.

[melodead]

nagi seishiro is a simple boy. he wants to win games. he dislikes preparing crabs. his first friend was a cactus. he’s in love with his second, not that you know.

you had pulled him into your orbit forever ago with eyes as bright as the sun and a love to match. from there, the rest was inevitable. inevitably, the sun rises in the east. inevitably, the universe will burn up in its brilliance. inevitably, you take his hand, and he won’t resist. through tokyo, through hakuho, through blue lock and beyond—that hasn’t changed.

nagi peeks up at you. the setting sun paints you golden like it wants to hold you too. he understands. it’s a fact of life that you were made to love—to be loved—and the world follows along to your whims because you hold it in your heart.

you melt into the couch despite the hundred-and-ninety-something centimeter soccer player in your lap. one hand runs carefully through his hair as the other holds your phone to the side. this is easy, he thinks, mind muddled by rest.

“can i get up now?”

“no,” nagi refuses, still watching you drowsily. “‘m still tired.”

“i can’t feel my legs, wonderboy. you know, a good friend wouldn’t interfere with my circulation.”

he hums, noncommittal. hypocrite. his heartbeat is faster than usual, but he’s not complaining about it, is he? for some reason though, the title of good friend sinks into his mind, trickles down into a scene from hours ago, and sets a question alight. what a hassle, he thinks to himself, but the ego that blue lock taught him demands an answer.

“hey,” nagi starts, “did you mean what you said earlier?

“mm? you’ll have to be more specific than that.”

nagi is silent, but his arms tighten just enough for you to notice.

“‘shiro?” you put your phone down. your hand buries itself in his hair as the other pinches his cheek—and you can’t help but wonder what he did in a past life to be blessed with such unbelievable genes. he leans into it, snowy lashes fluttering against his cheeks and casting shadows over unbearably soft eyes.

(nagi seishiro is an incredibly easy person to fall in love with and an unbelievably difficult one to be in love with, especially for you: the fool that has resolved to never tell him. sure, maybe you’re a masochist. sue you. you deserve a doctorate in compartmentalizing your crush.)

you tilt your head at him as your own gaze scans his face for anything that could give you a clue. the shapeless, white blob of a boy reminds you of that character he’s so fond of. “are you…”—you blink twice—“…pouting?”

“no.”

“you are!”

“m’not.”

a breathless little laugh escapes you, a wonderful thing that steals the air from his lungs. it’s unfair how easily it happens. he guesses it’s inevitable when his heart lies solely in the palm of your hand.

“i can’t give you an answer if i don’t understand the question,” you chide, rubbing circles into his face, but he can see you already running through the possibilities in your head. “tell me, please?”

nagi is a boy of few words, but a decade of friendship has trained you well. as such, when he suddenly decides to press the full force of his weight onto you, mumbling, you know you’ve struck gold (and possibly bruised ribs).

and then you pause. “reo…?”

nagi knits his brows together just the slightest, averting his eyes. “earlier, you said he’d be…”

your memory completes the confession for him. your jaw drops. “was it the boyfriend comment? seriously?” he won’t look at you, but there’s no hint of dishonesty to be found.

“i’m not repeating it.”

it’s over for you. “aww,” you coo. “are you jealous, ‘shiro?”

nagi is a simple boy. maybe it’s the way the light surrounds you, reminiscent of the day you first met. maybe it’s the lingering sleep clouding his system. maybe it’s his patience finally running out after the inordinate amount of time he’s spent chasing the sun in your eyes. he wants few things in life. one of those things just happens to be you.

whatever it is, it pushes nagi to admit, “yeah.”

you pause and laugh nervously, movements faltering for just a moment. “i think you’d probably be a decent boyfriend too, if it makes you feel better.”

“then we should try it.”

we. he’s always spoken like that—in terms of we. it’s always made your heart unbearably fond. “hmmm…well, reo probably knows someone.”

he huffs, and before you know it, nagi sits up and rests his head on top of yours. “that’s not fair. why do you keep talking about reo? you’re with me,” he whines, sneaking his long arms loosely around your waist.

“what’s wrong with talking about reo?” you retort. “you bring him up more than i do, and that’s saying something considering how much you talk. that’s not a lot, by the way.”

“so?”

you tug lightly at his hair. “so what, i can’t talk about reo but you can? that’s what we should be talking about if we’re talking about unfairness. anyways, if you’re suddenly so concerned about being single, i don’t think you’d have a hard time finding a date. long term? you’ll have to put work into it, obviously, but if you want someone—“

“i want you,” nagi interrupts.

you pinch him again. “i know i’m your favorite, but i’m really one of a kind. you’re not finding someone like me that easily.”

“but i don’t want someone like you.”

“then you’re being really unclear with what you want, seishiro.”

(oh, you’ll be the death of him.)

nagi sighs and meets you eye to eye.

“i want you,” nagi repeats, more awake than he has ever been, “and i want to be your boyfriend. that’s clear, right?”

…huh?

the world stops. your head spins and heat rushes up your neck. you must be feverish, or sick, or—or something. delusional, maybe? imagining, if you’re being nice, and you happen to be very good at imagining. you also happen to be very good at deflecting. (it was a required course to earn your imaginary doctorate.)

a nervous laugh, a little too high. your face burns. “you’re supposed to date people you like, seishiro.” your voice shakes.

“i like you a lot though.”

you try to say something—anything—normal, but your heart fails on you instead. your voice is stuck in your throat like a stone, and you can’t seem to dislodge it no matter how much you tell yourself to. oh, how does anybody ever do this?

nagi sees you, much more than he lets on. he has always seen you before. he sees you now. it must be why he says, quietly, “you don’t have to say yes. i’m okay with how we are now. we can pretend this never happened if you want, and everything can stay how it is.”

like dust. you see dust in the hazy daylight pouring in. you see it in old memories stored inside picture frames. most of all, you see it in the endless gray of his eyes—so, so close—threatening to drown you in your entirety and then some. embarrassingly, you know you’d jump in headfirst. haven’t you already? you’ve spent nearly a decade doing this, after all. but nearly a decade of this, and you have never once thought that he may feel the same. you wouldn’t have ever guessed.

many think that the eyes are the windows to the soul. you know that they are. you had seen as much in your youth and exponentially more in your time at blue lock. hunger. despair. hope. people can conceal and perform as much as they want, but the eyes will always betray the truth.

that's why you can’t deny it when he tells you his.

nagi hums, fingers playing with your sleeves. “your call.”

it’s such a nagi seishiro answer that you can’t help but laugh—and just like that, the stone is dislodged. “okay,” you affirm, out of breath and on the top of the world, “okay, yeah. we can—this—“ his hand squeezes yours. your chest stutters, but you don’t feel like dying. you take a breath, and then—the world begins to spin again.

(nagi seishiro is a simple boy. he wants to win games, so he does. he dislikes preparing crabs, but he’ll do it if you ask him to. his first friend is still a cactus. he’s in love with his second, and now you finally know.)

[overthedeadsea]

Red Carpet Chaos

Pairing: Aaron pierre x co-star!reader c Kelvin Harrison Jr.

Summary: Red carpet banters and after party crash outs.

A/n: Yayayayayay huge Aaron x reader incoming I love this very much :P

The three of you had one job—walk the red carpet, answer a few questions, and look good while doing it.

Easy, right? Wrong.

Because you, Aaron Pierre, and Kelvin Harrison Jr. together were a recipe for disaster.

And unfortunately for the event organizers, the cameras were rolling.

Round One: The Photo Op

It started out simple enough. You were standing between Aaron and Kelvin, smiling for the cameras, when you suddenly felt Kelvin’s hand creeping onto your shoulder.

“Kelvin, what are you doing?” you asked out of the corner of your mouth.

He grinned. “Enhancing the pose.”

Aaron glanced down at Kelvin’s hand, then casually reached over and yanked it off.

Kelvin gasped. “EXCUSE ME.”

Aaron smirked. “Nah.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Can we act normal for five seconds?”

Kelvin scoffed. “We’re giving them content.”

Aaron just shrugged. “They should be thanking us.”

Round Two: The Interviews

The first interviewer smiled brightly, clearly excited to talk to you. “So! You three have amazing chemistry—”

Kelvin threw an arm around you. “We’re a package deal.”

Aaron nodded, casually prying Kelvin off you again. “Some of us more than others.”

Kelvin gasped, clutching his chest. “Did y’all hear that? He’s threatened by me.”

Aaron chuckled, voice to smooth.“No threats. Just… facts.”

You groaned, turning to the interviewer. “This is what I deal with every day.”

The interviewer was thrilled. “Okay, but who’s the biggest diva?”

You, Aaron, and Kelvin all pointed at each other.

Kelvin laughed. “Look at that. Democracy at work.”

Aaron scoffed. “Nah, let’s be real. It’s Kelvin.”

You nodded. “Absolutely Kelvin.”

Kelvin gasped dramatically. “ME? Y’all, don’t listen to them. I am humble.I am low-maintenance.”

Aaron deadpanned. “You had a hair and makeup team in your trailer for three hours.”

Kelvin pouted. “So I like to look good. Sue me.”

The interviewer laughed. “Okay, okay—who takes the longest to get ready?”

You immediately turned to Aaron.

Kelvin grinned. “Oh, 100% Aaron.”

Aaron looked offended. “No way. Not possible.”

Kelvin nodded sagely. “Bro, you be in the mirror for an hour. Talking about ‘lighting angles.’”

Aaron scoffed. “I respect the craft.”

Kelvin smirked. “A mirror selfie is a craft?”

Aaron crossed his arms. “If I do it, yes.”

You let out a dramatic sigh. “I need new co-stars.”

The interviewer laughed. “You three are so much fun.”

Kelvin grinned. “We try.”

Aaron grinned. “Naturally.”

Now, you were at the afterparty, and somehow, things had only gotten worse.

The venue was gorgeous —moody lighting, high ceilings, and a DJ spinning smooth, vibey tracks. Celebrities mingled, drinks flowed, and the air buzzed with post-premiere excitement.

And you? You were stuck between chaos and destruction.

Kelvin nudged you at the bar, grinning. “You trust me?”

You squinted. “Not at all.”

He gasped dramatically. “Wow. After everything?”

Aaron, standing way too close on your other side, scoffed. “You’re literally an agent of chaos.”

Kelvin put a hand over his heart. “That is so unfair. I am a wholesome individual.”

Aaron gave him a long, unimpressed stare.

Kelvin waved him off. “Whatever, y’all are boring. Let’s do shots.”

You sighed. “Kelvin—”

But it was too late. He was already ordering.

Aaron leaned in, voice low. “You know he’s gonna try to sabotage you, right?”

You smirked. “Obviously.”

Aaron tilted his head slightly, like he was assessing you. Then he grinned. “Think you can outplay him?”

Your smirk widened. “Watch me.”

Kelvin returned with three shots. One for him. One for you. One for Aaron.

Except you knew better.

So when Kelvin handed you your glass, you didn’t drink it. Instead, you slid it across the bar and swapped it with his.

Kelvin blinked. “Wait—”

Too late. You knocked it back smoothly.

Kelvin gasped. “YOU SNAKE.”

Aaron let out a low chuckle, watching. “That was smooth.”

You shrugged, pretending to examine your nails. “Some of us have survival skills.”

Kelvin was stunned. “I—I can’t believe this. I was gonna betray you, and you betrayed me first.”

Aaron smirked. “Outplayed.”

Kelvin groaned. “I need new friends.”

After drinks, the energy shifted. The music picked up, the lights dimmed, and people started moving toward the dance floor.

And somehow, you ended up there too.

At first, it was just you and Kelvin, goofing off and hyping each other up. But then, Aaron appeared.

And that’s when things got… interesting.

Kelvin twirled you dramatically. “You are the moment.”

You laughed. “Obviously.”

But then you turned—and Aaron was right there. And when you say right there, you mean right there.

He smirked slightly. “Having fun?”

Your breath caught. Maybe it was the dim lights. Maybe it was the cocky way he was watching you. Or maybe it was just Aaron Pierre being Aaron Pierre.

Either way, you felt a shift.

Kelvin immediately clocked it.

“Ohhh, this is spicy,” he muttered, stepping back. “Lemme just…”

And then he was gone.

You barely had time to react before Aaron leaned in slightly. Not touching you—just close enough to feel it.

“You still think I’m not in the running?” he murmured.

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

But you weren’t going down easy.

So you smiled sweetly, tilting your head. “Are you applying?”

Aaron chuckled. Low. Deep. Dangerous.

“You tell me.”

And just like that—

You were in trouble. Because Aaron Pierre wasn’t just flirting anymore. No, this was different.

He wasn’t cracking jokes. He wasn’t throwing playful jabs.

He was looking at you like he had already won.

And you?

You weren’t sure if you were about to fight or fold.

The tension was too much, so you did the only logical thing (at least to you)— you turned on your heel and walked away.

Kelvin reappeared immediately. “Ohhh, you’re running.”

You scoffed. “I am not running.”

Kelvin smirked. “Then why are you speed-walking like you just saw your ex?”

You opened your mouth—then shut it, because damn it, he was right.

Kelvin grinned. “Just admit it. You’re scared.”

You huffed. “Of what?”

Kelvin pointed. “Him.”

And when you turned—

Aaron was right there.

You swore he had teleportation powers because how the hell did he move that fast?

Kelvin held up his hands. “Welp. My work here is done.”

And then that traitor left.

Aaron was too calm. Too relaxed. Like he knew something you didn’t.

“You ran,” he said simply.

You scoffed. “I walked.”

He tilted his head. “Fast.”

You crossed your arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Aaron chuckled, shaking his head. Then, before you could react, he took a step closer—just enough that the noise of the party faded into the background.

“You gonna keep dodging?” he murmured.

Your throat went dry.

You had two options:

1) Keep pretending nothing was happening.

2) Acknowledge the very obvious tension.

Unfortunately for you, Aaron wasn’t giving you the first option anymore.

So you lifted your chin. “You’re feeling bold tonight.”

Aaron hummed. “And?”

You narrowed your eyes. “And… what do you want?”

Aaron leaned in slightly, voice low and deliberate.

“An answer.”

Your breath hitched. “To what?”

Aaron’s gaze dropped to your lips. Just for a second. But you noticed.

And suddenly, the entire world felt too small.

You were seconds from saying something reckless. From maybe making a choice you couldn’t take back.

And then—

“YO, SHOTS ROUND TWO?”

Kelvin barreled back into the moment like an agent of destruction.

You and Aaron immediately stepped apart.

Kelvin frowned. “Oh. Did I interrupt something?”

Aaron sighed, rubbing his jaw. “Yes, Kelvin.”

Kelvin blinked. “Oh. My bad.”

Beat.

“…So that’s a no on the shots?”

You groaned. Aaron looked to the sky for patience. And Kelvin? Kelvin just grinned.

Because one way or another—

This wasn’t over.

Kelvin had horrible timing.

Because the second he popped up, whatever was about to happen between you and Aaron got cut short.

And Aaron? Oh, he was not happy about it.

Kelvin was still standing there, blinking between the two of you like an oblivious menace.

Aaron sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Kelvin.”

Kelvin grinned. “Yes, my dear friend?”

Aaron gave him a look. The kind that said leave.

Kelvin gasped dramatically. “Oh, am I in the way?”

You groaned. “Kelvin—”

Kelvin clapped his hands. “WELL. Y’all have fun. I’m gonna—” He gestured vaguely toward the bar. “Yeah.”

And then he disappeared again. Which left you and Aaron… alone.

Again.

Aaron exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I swear to God, that man’s a walking interruption.”

You smirked. “It’s his love language.”

Aaron chuckled, but there was something else in his expression. Something unresolved. Something determined. And then—before you could even process it— Aaron grabbed your hand and started walking.

You barely had time to react as Aaron led you through the crowd, weaving past oblivious partygoers until you were in a quieter corner of the venue.

The music was still loud, but the crowd had thinned, giving you at least a little space.

And then—

Aaron turned to face you. And you knew. This wasn’t a joke. This wasn’t a bit.

This was real.

“Aaron—”

“I’m not letting you dodge this time,” he said, voice low and firm.

You swallowed.

The way he was looking at you? Way too intense.

And yet—you didn’t move.

Didn’t pull away.

Didn’t try to escape this time.

Aaron tilted his head slightly, his gaze dropping just for a second.

“You gonna keep running?”

You inhaled sharply. “I never ran.”

Aaron smirked. “Mmm. You sure?”

Your pulse was going crazy. But you weren’t backing down.

So you tilted your chin up, giving him your best smirk. “You’re awfully confident.”

Aaron hummed. “I have a reason to be.”

You raised a brow. “Oh?”

And then—

He took one more step closer.

Your breath caught.

Because now?

There was no space left.

Aaron watched you carefully, like he was waiting.

Waiting for you to push him away.

Waiting for you to say no.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

So he leaned in—

Slow. Deliberate. Giving you time to stop him.

And when you didn’t—

He kissed you.

And the whole world stopped.

It was just you and Aaron Pierre. And damn.The man could kiss.

Warm, slow, intentional. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Like he’d been waiting for this.

Like he wasn’t in a rush—because he had all the time in the world.

By the time you pulled back, you were breathless. You blinked up at him, still catching up.

Aaron just smirked. “Still think I’m not in the running?”

You exhaled a shaky breath. “Shut up.”

Aaron chuckled, brushing his thumb over your jaw. “Nah. I like hearing you admit it.”

You groaned. “I hate you.”

Aaron grinned. “No, you don’t.”

And the worst part?

He was absolutely right.

From across the room Kelvin spotted you two. Saw the kiss. Saw the way you were still standing way too close. And his eyes went wide.

“Oh, HELL YEAH.”

The entire party was about to hear about this.

But right now? You didn’t care.

Because Aaron Pierre had made his move. And you were all in for it.

A/n: How tight me and bro locked in

This is lowkey a mini series 😼

[brookaboo]

Snatched by a Feather

Keigo Takami x ProHero fem!reader

summary : a training day between reader and the hero’s leaves a little jealous bird boyfriend

warning: language, Flirting/Light Sexual Innuendo, Physical Combat (Training)

“You call that a punch Princess?" Mirko scoffed, hopping back with a grin as you threw a right hook her way. "My grandma hits harder—and she’s dead."

You huffed, wiping your forehead with the back of your glove. “Oh yeah? Pretty sure I just saw you flinch.”

“That was a laugh, sweetie. Your punches are cute, like bunny taps.”

You circled her with a grin. “Maybe I’m just going easy on you. Don’t wanna embarrass you in front of your many admirers.”

Mirko barked out a laugh. “Babe, the only thing I’m embarrassed about is how you’ve lasted this long without face-planting and if anything I’m going easy on you don’t want to deal with your bird brain boyfriend”

You let out a laugh as the two of you launched back into sparring, your boots kicking up dust as fists and feet flew with impressive speed. While the rest of the heroes trained across the field with their quirks, you and Mirko stuck to raw physical combat—no quirks, no shortcuts. Just you, her, and a whole lot of smack talk.

Eventually, you both flopped onto the grass during your water break, panting and sweaty.

“Okay,” you breathed. “Spa day. Tomorrow. I need my joints un-cracked and my soul cleansed.”

Mirko snorted. “I was born ready for that. And if we don’t end up in matching robes drinking cucumber water, I’ll sue.”

“Oh for sure I already ordered the robes,” you winked. “Yours says ‘Punch First.’ Mine says ‘Talk Shit.’”

“You know me too well.” Mirko tilted her head at you. “Hey, when you and Bird Boy get married, I better be the best woman.”

You grinned. “Obviously. You’re the only one who can handle both my sass and his ego.”

Suddenly, you felt a tug on your shirt collar.

“Huh?”

You looked down—one of Hawks’ red feathers had hooked onto your top, and before you could blink, it was yanking you to your feet and pulling you away.

“HA!” Mirko doubled over in laughter. “You’ve been feather-napped! Tell birdbrain I said hi!”

“I hate you!” you yelled over your shoulder 

As Mirko’s cackling laughter ringing in your ears. “Love you too, loser!” she called back, cackling. “Have fun, lovebirds!” she shouted out behind you.

 the feather dragged you toward the edge of the training grounds. The feather eventually let go, and you stumbled into a more shaded, secluded spot. You barely had time to gather yourself before you saw Keigo  leaning against a tree with his arms crossed and his usual smug smile in place.

“Well, well,” you said, brushing off your shirt. “Couldn’t even wait until training was over to get me alone?”

He walked over slowly, wings twitching. “Can you blame me? You’re out there, sweaty and literally glowing, flirting with your bestie while I’m stuck with Captain Hothead. It is torturous and unfair treatment”

You laughed as you said “you are so dramatic” before crossed your arms. “You know, normal boyfriends use words to ask for attention.”

He sauntered over, tilting his head. “Yeah, well, normal boyfriends don’t have girlfriends who look that good sparring with someone else.”

You arched a brow. “Are you… jealous of Mirko?”

He leaned in with a lazy grin. “Of course I’m jealous. My hot girlfriend’s out there all bouncy and smiling and calling another woman babe. What am I supposed to do—not drag you away?”

You rolled your eyes, grinning. “So dramatic. You know I call everyone babe.”

“Yeah, but you don’t get to look that good and just be sparing with that bunny” He brushed a finger along your jaw. “And you definitely don’t look at them the way you look at me.”

You playfully shoved his chest. “Smooth. Real smooth.”

You leaned in to kiss his cheek—just a quick peck—

But he swerved and stole your lips instead.

The kiss was heated, just long enough to make your knees wobble before you pulled back, breathless.

“Later,” you whispered against his lips. “We have training to do.”

He pouted. “But I wanna keep kissing you…”

You turned your head away hiding your smirk. “Maybe next time, don’t act like a possessive bird and steal me mid-spar.”

He let his hand catch your head as he gently turned it back to him and tilted it up as he lowered his voice saying Bet you love training with others because you like when I get all possessive and jealous over you”

He chuckled as your dace heated up “You’re blushing….is that because of me?”

“I am not.”

“You Are too.”

You shot him a warning glare, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you.

He whistled. “Damn, still got it.”

“Ugh, you’re lucky you’re hot.”

Before he could come up with a smug comeback, Endeavor’s booming voice echoed across the field.

“Takami! [L/N]! Get back to work!”

Keigo didn’t miss a beat. “Relax, Endeavor! Don’t get mad just ’cause no one wants to get dragged off by you!”

You snorted and elbowed him. “Keigo!”

“What? It’s true.”

Endeavor glared at him from across the field like he was ready to set something on fire. Keigo just winked and took off toward the training zone—though not before shooting you one more flirty glance that promised a whole lot more later.

You jogged back over to Mirko, trying (and failing) to wipe the stupid grin off your face. She was already leaning against a training dummy, arms crossed, one ear twitching with mischief and a smug smirk plastered across her face.

“Well, well, well,” she drawled, raising a brow. “Back from your steamy makeout session with Birdbrain?”

You scoffed. “It was not steamy.”

Mirko eyed the flushed cheeks, your slightly swollen lips, and the way you were clearly floating two inches off the ground. “Mhm. Yeah. That feather didn’t just tug you away—it snatched your whole soul.”

You shoved her shoulder with a laugh. “Shut up.”

“I train with fists. He trains with tongue,” she teased, cackling.

“Rumi!”

She threw her head back laughing. “Okay, okay, I’m done. Just saying—if I got yanked away every time I looked hot while training, I’d never finish a damn session.”

You bumped her again, rolling your eyes. “This is why I can’t leave you unsupervised for more than five minutes.”

“And you,” she grinned, tossing you a water bottle, “are so telling me everything later over face masks and wine.”

You caught the bottle, cheeks still burning. “Fine. But only if you don’t tell Hawks I told you how needy he was.”

Mirko winked. “No promises…..babe.”

[z0mi3]

“Toru,” you mumble to the big lump of muscle currently clinging to your bottom.

The boy hums at you, his head lifting slightly from where it was resting across your midsection, his white hair tousled, lips pink from sleep or pouting.

“You’re heavy.”

“I’m comfy.”

You reach down to try and nudge him off, but he only buries his face deeper against your side with a dramatic groan.

“I swear to God, Satoru—”

“You don’t mean that,” he mumbles, pressing a lazy kiss just above your hip. “You love me.”

“Debatable.”

He lifts his head again, finally making eye contact. His stupidly bright blue eyes scan your face as he pouts exaggeratedly.

“I’m starved for attention,” he whines.

“You were literally draped over me like a blanket for the last hour.”

“Physical touch and verbal affection. I’m a complex man.”

You roll your eyes, but he only grins. And you already know what he’s thinking before he says it:

“Give me a kiss.”

“God, you’re such a brat.”

“Pretty brat.”

With a huff, you lean in and press a kiss to his cheek. But that only makes him smirk and shift.

“Again. Here. And here. Oh, and right here—”

He taps different spots on his face, guiding you with that ridiculous grin of his. You give in, barely biting back your laugh, and scatter quick kisses across his cheeks and jaw and forehead.

You pause, ready to pull away, but he tilts his head, lips slightly parted, waiting.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know you, and you’re gonna try to turn this into a makeout session five seconds later.”

Satoru gasps like you’ve slapped him. “That’s so unfair. When have I ever—”

“Tuesday.”

He pauses. “Okay, but—”

“And last Friday. And literally every time I kiss you for more than two seconds.”

“You make it sound like I’m a monster,” he pouts, curling around you again, arms looping around your waist as he rests his chin on your stomach. “I just crave love in high doses. Sue me.”

You tug lightly at the white strands near his forehead, brushing them back. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet here I am. In your bed. Wrapped around you like a clingy koala.”

“Koalas are mean.”

“I’m only mean when you threaten to stop kissing me.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re lucky I like you.”

That makes him grin wide, nose scrunching like a kid who just got away with something.

“You love me,” he sing-songs.

“Don’t push it.”

“Say it.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Or what?”

He grins, devilishly slow, and then starts to shift.

You don’t like that grin. That grin means trouble.

“Toru,” you warn, but he’s already halfway up your body, rolling his weight forward so he’s got you pinned beneath him, one leg thrown lazily across yours and his face hovering just above yours.

“Or I’ll smother you with affection,” he threatens softly, in that mock-serious tone of his that always makes your stomach flip. “I’ll kiss you until you admit it.”

You scoff, trying to act unimpressed, even as your fingers curl into his t-shirt.

“That’s not really a threat.”

“Oh no?” he leans in, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. “I’ll be annoying about it. I’ll be the worst.”

“You already are the worst.”

“And yet, you still let me in your bed,” he whispers, lowering himself until his lips graze your jaw, “still let me hold you,” then your cheek, “still let me—”

You shove a hand against his mouth before he can finish, barely holding back your laughter. “You’re a menace.”

He speaks against your palm, muffled, “Say it and I’ll stop.”

“God, you’re relentless.”

He just winks.

You sigh, dragging your hand down his face with exaggerated exhaustion. “Fine. I like you. A little.”

“A little?”

“Like… a medium amount.”

He groans like he’s been personally wronged. “You are killing me.”

“Good.”

“Okay, that’s it—” And then he attacks, not with force, but with kisses loud, obnoxious ones, all over your face, neck, collarbone wherever he can reach as you squirm and squeal under him.

“Satoru!” you laugh, swatting at him.

“Say you love me!”

“Never!”

“Say it or suffer!”

You’re both breathless by the time he slows down, collapsed on top of you again, laughing against your neck.

You run a hand through his hair, soft and messy from all the movement. His voice is quiet now, almost shy, muffled by your skin.

“I love you, y’know.”

You freeze just a second just long enough for him to notice. But before he can say anything else, you whisper:

“…I know.”

You feel his smile press against your shoulder, arms tightening around you like he finally got what he wanted.

But what you don’t tell him what you’re not brave enough to say just yet is that you love him too.

Maybe more than a little.

Maybe more than even he realizes.

dividers by @cursed-carmine | art by @scarlettismm on Twitter 

[etherealstar-writes]

I WANNA BE YOURS | WOSO X READER | PT 16

pairings: woso x reader

summary: in which you're accidentally added to a random group chat, not knowing they're all actually famous footballers, and obliviously end up having many of them competing for your love and attention.

part: sixteen

part one here

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

THE NATIONAL DIVING TEAM

the imposter aka y/n ❤️

felt lotte 😔

neev you went to a wsl match and to an arse-nal one of all ?! i thought you were a chelsea supporter y/n 😔 how could you do this to me bae

kyra who the hell would be sane enough to support chelshit?

elton PLS

willybum CHELSHIT HAHAHA

neev are we seeing this rn sam @ samtheskippa the disrespect

sam the skippa kyra lillee cooney-cross

kyra erm mum, save me @ stephy

stephy i ain't getting involved in this

kyra 😔

meado oh my lord

tom holland's twin i have a concussion y/n ✌️ twinning

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ want me to come over and we can watch movies i'll bring ice-cream

tom holland's twin pls do 🙏

stairway why is lotte getting special treatment? i sprained my ankle the other day

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ sucks to be you

elton are you seriously still mad at us for accidentally giving you a concussion

the imposter aka y/n ❤️

neev i'll make it up to you with nandos i'll pay 🙏

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ okay

willybum that's all it took for you to forgive her? nandos?

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ hey, nandos is fire 🔥 only ppl with taste can understand

mccard real

kyra real

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ and i can never stay mad at you guys for long

the REAL karate kid yayyy

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ but tillies are still my number one

willybum NOOO

kyra YESSS as you should 💪

the REAL karate kid okay but you support arsenal yeah? 🥺🙏

neev NAHH chelsea 🤍💙🥺🙏

brightness chelsea 🤍💙

flaming hot chelsea 🤍💙

sam the skippa aye up the blues 🤍💙

elton NAHH yanited 🔛🔝

earpsy yesss ❤️🖤

zelem ❤️🖤

turner ❤️🖤

hempo it's actually mancity thank you very much

lani ayeee

esme yess

chloe that's right

kyra nah y'all are absolutely delulu it's fairly obvious y/n should support ausenal we're superior 💪

wilybum you mean arsenal 🤨 ❤️🤍

kyra yeah that of course 😁 ❤️🤍

the REAL karate kid ❤️🤍

meado ❤️🤍

tom holland's twin ❤️🤍

mccard ❤️🤍

ford ❤️🤍

stephy ❤️🤍

stairway NAH WHAT THE FLIIP WE HAVE MOST OF THE ARSENAL TEAM HERE THIS IS UNFAIR

neev YEAH UNFAIR FR

cha cha i was gonna suggest spurs ....

willybum OH HELL NAH

the REAL karate kid NO

elton ABSOLUTY NOT

cha cha okay okay geez

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ i think i should remain unspoken about this topic before things get more out of hand ....

neev NAH this is an important life decision y/n

rusty metal wait y/n barca will welcome you with open arms

willybum THEY AREN'T A WSL TEAM LUCY

rusty metal i thought it was just clubs in general 😔

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ barca is lookin very convicing ngl and i most def support ausenal (and lotte) 🇦🇺✊

mccard technically i'm an honorary aussie so do i count in ausenal 👀

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ of course

neev i thought we had a connection y/n 😔

willybum why not lionessenal 😔

meado that is a terrible name

the REAL karate kid fr

willybum sue me for tryin why don't you think of something better then

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ nahh doesn't hit the same as ausenal

willybum i liked it better when you didnt know who we were and supported me 😔

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ that isn't very cash money of you willybum

ona you should come to barcelona y/n!

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ anything for you ona 🙏

stairway nahhh come support bayern in germany 💪

kie barca is superior actually

rusty metal that's right!

willybum they're overrated

kie you did not

ona added la reina

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ MOTHER ALEXIA EKBHFlkuweqBFQLUEB NO WAY OMG IVE PASSED AWAY

neev HELP the alexia putellas being added to this gc was NOT on my bingo card this year 😭

ona alexia, leah williamson just said barca is overrated

willybum deleted a chat

willybum i don't know what she's talking about alexia you're amazing

la reina thank you? your nickname is ... creative

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ alexia will you adopt me?

la reina what?

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ what? erm you are insanely peng oml

ona i thought i was peng 😔

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ YOU ARE

ona then you need another compliment for her

kyra alexia is very mother actually

cha cha she is fr

neev seconded

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ but steph is mother for me 🙏 alexia is literally la reina, my queen 😩

stephy what in the world are you guys talking about 😭

rusty metal wait what am i then?

neev grandma duh

rusty metal i shouldn't have asked 😭

ona grandma lucy hahaha

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ ona i'm packing my bags rn coming to barca right away for you

ona i shall be waiting

willybum i can't believe we're being forgotten about 😔

kyra no one cares lord farquaad

willybum you pest 😒

willybum changed kyra's name to pest

pest wow

willybum suits you very well

pest that's not gonna stop me from pestering you, willybum you do realise that

willybum steph control your child

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ but i never did anything 😔

willybum NOT YOU ALSO SINCE WHEN HUH? 😭

stephy do you have a problem with my children, williamson?

willybum erm no

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ mother, kyra is hogging your favourite son from your favourite daughter

stephy kyra give calvin back to y/n

pest wow i'm the neglected middle child i guess 😒

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ L

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

not me finally posting another crappy chapter 🤭

next part here

[nomie-11]

Muscles

masterlist!

synopsis: mmmm, muscles

pairings: vi x reader (no use of y/n)

You liked a lot of things about your girlfriend. She was smart, loyal, compassionate, caring. And an insanely hot fighting machine. 

But especially, you liked her muscles. 

You couldn’t help it. Maybe it was shallow, maybe it was a little obvious, but sue you, you had eyes—how could you not appreciate them? The way her biceps flexed when she pulled her hair into a half-ponytail, the effortless way she lifted weights that you wouldn’t even think about touching, the way her back tensed when she was between your legs, eating you out while her hand covered your mouth so you wouldn’t be heard—

Breath. Deep breaths. 

You needed to get a grip. Not on Vi’s arm’s, unfortunately, but on yourself. 

Because if you kept letting your mind wander like that, you were going to combust. And that would be an unfortunate way to go, considering Vi was currently across the room, doing pull-ups like it was nothing, and you would much prefer her to just choke you. 

You tried—really, really tried—not to stare. But it was impossible. The way her muscles shifted with every lift, the sheen of sweat on her skin, the little grunts she made under her breath—it was completely unfair. 

“You’re drooling,” a voice piped up beside you. 

You nearly jumped out of your skin, whipping around to see Caitlyn smirking at you. Of course she’d noticed. That woman didn’t miss anything when it came to blackmail and teasing material. 

“I am not drooling,” you shot back, but the warmth creeping up your neck betrayed you. 

Caitlyn just snickered. “Uh-huh. Sure. You wanna borrow a towel?” 

You groaned, shoving her arm. “Shut up.” 

Unfortunately, your outburst caught her attention. 

Vi dropped from the bar effortlessly, rolling out her shoulders before glancing your way. Her brows lifted slightly, like she was trying to figure out what was going on. 

“You good?” She asked, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from her face. 

No. No, you were not good. Not with the way her forearm flexed when she ran the fabric over her skin (maybe you would become religious if god could provide a way to be reincarnated as Vi’s gym towel). 

“Fine,” you squeaked. 

Caitlyn coughed—bullshit—into her fist, but thankfully, Vi didn’t push it. She just gave you a small smile before gently squeezing your hand and heading toward the weights, and you swore you saw the corner of her mouth twitch—like she knew exactly what she was doing to you. 

You wanted to climb her like a tree. 

God help you. 

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

[calcified-weatherfrog]

in the spirit of being a bitch about this (yeah I’m being a bitch about this try and stop me) I’m gonna say one thing that’s already been said and then I won’t speak on this again but Literally having a main -much more a main like Eddie fucking Diaz- miss this much of a story and this dramatic of a plot should be considered a federal crime and am I biased yeah sure eddies my favourite SUE ME but this is the godamn objective truth (sort of) and it’s unfair he’s been missing from two episodes (well more like one and three quarters because Buck cant stop blabbering about his boyfriend like he’s a war widow or smth) like get serious it’s been 8 seasons have them carry a photo of him around or something idk. Love the general devastation though let’s keep it up 🫶🏻

[nottellingofname]

This could be us - Satoru Gojo

You stood in the parking lot, dramatically tapping your foot like someone would actually show up faster if you clicked your heel hard enough.

You glanced at your watch, sighed loud enough for God to hear, and mentally drafted an obituary for your punctuality.

Then, right on cue, a black convertible viper roared into the lot, blaring music so loud you were pretty sure the bass just gave someone heart palpitations.

Subtlety? Never heard of her.

Satoru Gojo rose from the car like he was starring in a shampoo commercial sponsored by daddy issues. That trademark smirk—the kind that dissolved morals and common sense—was already plastered across his face.

In the backseat, Suguru Geto and Shoko Ieiri were laughing like they’d just committed arson and gotten away with it. Honestly? Probably had.

Satoru wore sunglasses indoors and outdoors and probably in the shower too. His platinum-blond hair was perfectly tousled, defying both gravity and basic humility. The way girls looked at him as he parked? Like someone had just unleashed a boy band on school grounds.

And then, because life is unfair, he stepped out and adjusted his black cap, giving Suguru and Shoko that smug little look—the one that said yes, I’m aware I’m the main character and yes, you’re welcome.

Satoru freaking Gojo (yes, that's his middle name from now on), the school's resident heartthrob and menace, strutted across the parking lot like he was auditioning for Grease 2: The Unbearable Ego. His loose white tank top hung just enough to show off his abs and that ridiculous rib tattoo that read Don’t tickle.

Suguru and Shoko? The school’s official agents of mischief.

Monday mornings were basically disaster roulette—would it be glitter bombs or superglued chalk again? Suguru was on a lifelong mission to give every teacher an early retirement, while Shoko aimed for maximum mess with minimum remorse.

Today, Suguru wore an unbuttoned black shirt over a gray tee, looking like he just stepped off the set of a brooding teen drama. Shoko was rocking a checkered shirt and a black denim skirt like she hadn’t just flooded the chemistry lab last week.

Icons, both of them.

You watched them approach, and—oh joy—Satoru's eyes locked onto yours like he had no other purpose in life than to ruin your day. His smirk stretched like he was already planning something illegal.

He stopped right in front of you and did the whole lean in, block your escape routine like this was some rom-com and not your personal nightmare.

“See something you like, Y/N?”

You didn’t even blink. “Actually, yeah.” You snatched his cap straight off his head and plopped it on yours. “Mine now. Thanks, accessory boy.”

He licked his lips like that was supposed to be seductive and not deeply concerning. “I don’t mind at all. Can I take this, then?”

His fingers hooked your bra strap, tugging like a child about to get smacked.

You flicked him in the forehead like the disappointment he was. “Try it and I’ll file a harassment report so fast your sunglasses will sue for emotional damage. Now walk, disaster.”

He laughed, teeth blinding enough to be a public hazard. “Lead the way, babe.”

“Hello? Are we just extras now?” Suguru called out from behind, sounding personally offended.

“To be fair, you are next to me,” Satoru said with a shrug, slinging his arm around your shoulders like it was part of your anatomy.

You rolled your eyes so hard you practically saw 2003. “No, you’re not extras,” you told Suguru and Shoko. “How was the party? Any near-death experiences or just the usual hormonal chaos?”

The two exchanged a look that said we know things. Then Suguru said, “Gojo got lucky. Twice. Rumor has it, there was a third involved. Simultaneously.”

You blinked. “Like… a ménage à dumbass?”

“I call bullshit,” Shoko said, coughing into her hand. “No way you rode the tricycle, Gojo.”

Satoru laughed like he was proud of the alleged war crime. “What can I say? Two birds, one extremely attractive stone.”

You punched him lightly in the chest. “You are the reason aliens won’t visit us.”

“You’re just jealous,” he said with a raised brow, grinning like a villain. “Just say the word, Y/N. I’ll give you the deluxe experience.”

“Say one more thing and I’ll revoke your flirting license. Turn down the sextalk, Captain Cringe.”

He grabbed the cap off your head and popped it back on like it hadn’t just been touched by your superior aura. “Relax, I’m just teasing. What’s our first class again?”

“Biology,” you said, trudging toward the school building while girls all around you sent Satoru wistful stares like he was some rare breed of puppy they couldn’t afford.

“Sweet,” Satoru said. “I could use some hands-on learning.”

You didn’t dignify that with a response.

“Oh, and I heard from Mei Mei,” you added. “Her dad’s throwing a quiz at us today. Probably because she got caught making out with Atsuya Kusakabe yesterday.”

Satoru snorted. “Glad to hear Mei Mei's spreading more than just her legs. Her dad’s probably traumatized.”

You laughed, covering your mouth. “Tragic. Prayers to his eyes.”

“You wanna know what’s even more tragic?” Satoru smirked as you stepped into Biology class. “I smashed that three weeks ago.”

You stopped in your tracks, looked him dead in the eye, and said, “...Congratulations. You’ve successfully lowered my standards even further.”

Listen to Satoru's Playlist? / Listen to everyone's playlist?