#tiny umbrella to put in your drink

[midnightmoonbeams]

I loved the way Toby and Raymond interacted with each other.

From March 30th, 2022

[suguann]

There comes a point where Simon finally admits that he hates your new boyfriend—not that he’s liked any of your past relationships over the years, but this one he’s more vocal about—with a name not worth remembering. Matt? Martin?

He’d stopped trying after his first week back from work.

“I don’t fucking trust him,” he says one night while at the pub right under your apartment; it’s become a weekly ritual of sorts when he’s on leave ever since meeting you there on Soap’s birthday several years back. 

“You say that about every guy I have you meet,” you tell him in that know-it-all voice that you always use with him. “You hardly even know him, and his name’s Marcus, by the way. It wouldn’t kill you to use it.”

He snorts. “Love, the bloke would put his cock in anyone with tits and a warm cunt.”

“He wouldn’t,” your voice is soft because maybe you already know.

He would.

You’re so fucking oblivious that you don’t even realize this, but there’s nothing except stars in your eyes whenever you look at (or even talk about) the Naval officer who thinks he’s some bigshot because he can fly a plane. 

Even now, at your boyfriend’s promotion after-party in some back alley nightclub, he’s hardly talked to you or offered to get you a drink. You’re always too nervous to order one by yourself, and only Simon—tall and imposing standing beside you—could have the grumpiest bartender reach for the blender to make a blended cocktail. 

When he comes back with your drink—too big fingers unfolding the tiny umbrella for you—he watches your boyfriend (Marcus) flirt with a girl in a tight leather dress on the other side of the room. It’s that moment that he decides he’s tired of you giving your attention to someone who doesn’t deserve it, tired of you lying belly up for men who only want to sink their teeth into you and leave once they’ve had their fill. 

He likes to think he’s a pretty good friend—opening your eyes to something better is a job he takes rather seriously.

“It’s just a bit of fun,” he says after coming back with your third margarita, a small amount of frothy liquid sloshing over the side when he sets it down in front of you. “It’s okay to want it.”

You bite your lip, eyes dropping down to where he’s patting his thigh. “Just fun?”

“Yes, love.” He smiles. “Just fun.”

Let me.

Whether you’re tipsier than he thought or he’s just really persuasive, it’s easy to get you crawling into his lap in the corner of the cracked leather booth. His hands wander the span of your smooth thighs where your short skirt doesn’t reach, and he muffles a groan in your shoulder when you start squirming against the tent in his jeans.

You say his name like a warning when his hands find their way under your skirt, yet you’re biting back a moan and don’t tell him to stop.

Simon undoes his jeans and shifts them down before pushing up the back of your skirt and adjusting your hips to watch the tip of his dick slide between the covered cleft of your ass. Nobody in the room can see what the both of you are doing with your skirt fanning around his lap, but someone could if they were truly looking, and that has him tugging your panties to the side so he can feel you.

"Your boyfriend is too stupid to realize you're sitting here riding my lap. What do you think he'd say if he saw you like this?"

 “W-wait, Simon!” you squeak. “What if he sees—”

He’s almost tempted to roll his eyes at your blind devotion—I’ll deal with it—dealing with it would be him making sure the prick never tries talking to you again.

Then, his fingers, like iron at your hips, jerk you back to impale you on his cock. "Fuck," he says, voice trembling around the edges.

“O-oh! It’s too—ah—too big!”

He wraps a hand around the slender slope of your throat, fingers digging into vulnerable flesh as he pulls you back until his lips are at your ear, nose pressing into the soft skin of your cheek. “Come on, love. I know you can take the whole thing. Right inside this tight cunt.”

Simon thrusts into you shallowly, just the tip going in and out, and you whine, little fingers scrabbling at his wrist—gasping and shivering and bucking in the trap of his arms.

A smirk curls at the edges of his mouth when he finally bottoms out in your hot-wet cunt for your boyfriend to see from the other side of the room. He'd laugh at how his jaw drops, but he can only manage little choked intakes of air at the feel of you wrapped so tightly around him.

“Squeeze my cock for me—fuck, there you go.” He presses a kiss below your ear and reaches down to pet your soaked clit with his thumb. Feels the moment you realize that your boyfriend is watching when you tense up.

“I’ll deal with it,” he says again and again until you’re melting into him, thighs trembling around his. “Promise. I promise…”

I apologize if you see this again! I was trying to edit it, and it wouldn't format right with the gif. You can find part two here.

masterlist

[gloomwitchwrites]

Their bachelor party.. what kind of shenanigans are they getting in to?!

Hehe. Anon, I bow down to you. I had so much fun with this prompt. I was able to be super creative and silly with it. Really, I had a freaking blast with this. I also spent an insane amount of time researching stag night / stag parties / stag dos. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed putting it togther!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, drunken shenanigans

Word Count: 800

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“When you said ‘stag do’ I didn’t think…this.” Soap gestures vaguely.

“What were you expecting, Johnny? Strippers? A lap dance?” mocks Simon, keeping his gaze forward.

“You plan on giving me one, Lt?” asks Johnny with a devilish grin.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you, Johnny?” replies Simon, downing the rest of his beer.

“Don’t know what you’re on about, Soap,” says Kyle from somewhere in the back. “Captain made a damn good choice. When are you ever gonna do this again?”

“It is my day,” says Price, settling back into his seat. “And this is what I want to do.”

Kyle drops off a fresh beer for Simon and clasps Johnny’s shoulder. “We’re at a sold-out football match in a box suite.” He gestures behind him. “There’s a buffet and beer on tap. More than the four of us could eat or drink. Fucking glorious, mate.” Kyle brings his beer to his lips, and sighs once he’s taken a long gulp.

“What about tonight, Captain?” asks Johnny. “We drinking?”

Price nods. “With some of the bride’s family actually.”

Kyle leans forward. “I got us all matching outfits.”

“I’m not wearing shit,” says Price over his shoulder.

“He is,” whispers Kyle.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Holy fucking hell, Kyle. You did good!” Soap slides on his sunglasses and places his hands on his hips. “This place is fucking paradise.”

“Get in the shade, Johnny. You’re gonna burn,” says Simon, sipping on his piña colada.

With a grin on his face, Johnny stalks over and plucks the tiny pink umbrella out of Simon’s drink. He sucks on the end of the stick.

“I need someone to get my back. You up for it, Lt?”

Simon gives Soap a blank stare as he finishes the last of his drink. Kyle starts to laugh, leaning back in his beach chair.

“What the fuck are we in right now, Johnny?” asks Simon.

Johnny glances around and shrugs.

“A cabana.”

“Oh, aye. When we were on that mission—”

“Fucking hell,” mutters Simon. “I’m getting another drink.”

“Grab me something with tequila in it,” says Kyle.

“Who’s putting sunscreen on my back?”

“Have the groom do it,” growls Simon as heads for the bar.

Johnny shrugs and turns toward Kyle, the end of the pink umbrella still in his mouth. “Bit hairy back there.”

Kyle shakes his head and cups his mouth with both hands. “Price! Come get your sergeant!”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Fucking look at us.” Johnny grins and turns around to face Price, Kyle, and Simon. “We ready to go?”

“You’re not fucking wearing that. And I’m not wearing this.” Simon takes off his hat and gestures at Johnny with it. “We look insane.”

“What? This?” Johnny glances down at his outfit. It’s a Pikachu onesie. Hood included. “Pretty fucking comfortable.”

Price, Simon, and Kyle are all dressed up like Ash Ketchum. Even the hats have the correct logo.

“We look fucking ridiculous,” grumbles Price, fidgeting with his jacket.

“I think we look pretty smashing actually,” shrugs Kyle.

“Didn’t you watch Pokémon growing up?” asks Johnny. “We sure did.” He drapes his arm over Kyle’s shoulder.

Simon stares blankly, arms crossed over his chest. “There better not be pictures. I don’t want to find myself on the fucking internet in this.”

“Or shown at work,” mumbles Price.

Johnny lightly punches Simon shoulder. “You look good, Lt.”

“If it helps,” interrupts Kyle. “We can fill these with alcohol.” He holds up one of the plastic pokeballs that he, Price, and Simon have clipped to their belts.

“Thank fucking hell,” sighs Price. “I’m in.”

“Simon?” asks Johnny.

Simon rolls his eyes. “Hells. Fine.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“Lads! Lads! Lads! Lads!”

Kyle and Johnny chant manically as Simon chugs his beer. It takes a few meager seconds and then they yell fiercely, beating their chests before grabbing Simon’s shoulders and shaking him. Simon wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Another!”

Kyle grabs Simon’s empty glass and heads to the bar to order another round. Johnny breaks out into song. It’s in Scots. He’s loud and off-key.

“Speak English,” laughs Simon.

Price crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in the booth, resting his head on the top. His eyelids shut.

Soap switches over to English but it lasts for only a few lines. He switches between the two, even tossing in a bit of Gaelic. Simon doesn’t understand any of it.

Kyle comes back with another round. Price opens one eye and groans. “Can’t. Heartburn.”

As soon as the words leave Price’s mouth, Johnny snags Price’s beer and downs it before picking up his own and consuming that.

“Fucking hell,” mutters Price. “I won’t be dragging your ass home. Any of you.”

Simon and Kyle clink glasses as down half of theirs.

Johnny grins. “We’ve got three more pubs to go, Captain.”

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@enarien @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat @ninman82

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@haven-1307 @voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @keiva1000

@littlemisscriesherselftosleep @greeniegreengreen @umno-yeah @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla

@sadlonelybagel @kadeeesworld @iloveslasher @sammysinger04 @dakotakazansky

@suhmie @jaggersinclair @jackrabbitem @lxblm @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @kidd3ath @certainlygay @thewulf @lovely-ateez

@whisperwispxx @gingergirl06 @eternallyvenus @smileykiddie08 @arrozyfrijoles23

[ohimsummer]

SATORU, your muse ｡˚✐~

— Satoru eases open the door of the house. You’re not home, so he doesn’t feel the need to make his usual grand entrance. Shoes are left at the door, jacket on the rack, and Satoru makes way to the bedroom. Once inside, something on your nightstand immediately catches his eye.

It’s your sketchbook; a now worn, leather notepad that he’d bought you months ago after the old one was filled. You rarely, if ever, let him see your artwork, so Gojo would usually resort to peeking over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of what you were working on. He always teased you for keeping your art a secret, but now that he has a chance to look at your projects uninterrupted, he hesitates. For a second.

Satoru flips open to the first page. It’s just random doodles of flowers and animals, ones he recognizes from the garden in the park you two frequent. The next page warrants the same mundane results: bugs and trees and the tops of skyscrapers and whatever random things that would grab your interest while you two enjoyed the heat of the sun.

The next page catches Gojo by surprise. It’s a bird, but not just any bird, he realizes. It’s a songbird, one he’d half-heartedly pointed out to you one day because he recalled reading about it online. You weren’t even listening to him, or so he’d thought. It’s kind of endearing actually that you’d take the time to draw it. And it’s not just the bird, either. It’s the macaroons he’d mentioned wanting to get one evening, a bouquet consisting of a flower Gojo’d randomly plucked and presented to you, a familiar pair of sunglasses resting in grass, dabbed over top with faded blue watercolor paint. Numerous doodles of such small memories.

Satoru continues flipping to look at your little illustrated photo album. Some of these drawings are of stuff he barely remembers talking about, like a cracked open piggy bank obviously referencing a story he told you in passing. Gojo doesn’t even remember why he brought it up, but you’ve immortalized it here in your sketchpad with pencils and ink.

The drawings only grow more detailed as he gets deeper into the book, and a proud smile stretches across Satoru’s face at your talent. Rapid sketches of buildings and passerby evolve into self portraits of yourself, and he thinks you look so captivating in all of them. Gojo takes note of the silly doodles of even himself in the margins of the paper. Him in his sunglasses, him wearing the flower crown you’d poorly put together, him surrounded by ice cream and candy and the plethora of sweets he so enjoys. His favorites are the inane drawings of you two together, tiny and inhabiting multiple corners of every page. Each one is a delightful surprise to spot.

Satoru turns the next page, and he’s sincerely taken aback. Drawings of eyes, and they all look alike. They’re so detailed, adorned with pretty lashes and shaded so beautifully. He doesn’t have to wonder long on whose eyes these are, the next page bursting with the color blue tells Gojo all he needs to know. He’s glad you’re not here to see his reddening face and the way his breath hitched. This page, the next few actually, are all dedicated to his eyes. They’re inked perfectly, some are at different angles, and you’ve managed to portray emotion into all of them. Satoru wonders if he could draw a picture of you and showcase the absolute adoration in your eyes the way you’ve done with his.

And it doesn’t stop there. Page after page, it’s all Satoru. Him sleeping with a mushed cheek against your chest, him drinking a soda, him looking out the window, him playing the game with Geto, when did you even draw these?

“Satoru?”

He quickly slams the book shut at your call, carefully placing it back on your nightstand and ushering himself from the room. There you are at the door, shaking the rain from your umbrella and leaving it on the mat near the entrance.

“There you are, love.,” you beam at his approaching figure, and Gojo squishes you in a warm embrace. “How was your day?”

Satoru kisses the crown of your head, and grins against your skin. He can’t wait to tell you all about today, maybe give you some more brilliant ideas to memorialize in your sketchbook.

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

5 Times You Stole Eijiro Kirishima’s Hoodie | Part 1: The Convenience Store

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Eijiro Kirishima x Femme Reader! 💋

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Tension, Hero Situations, Eijiro Kirishima is a Pro Hero

Link to My Master List 😬

5 Times You Stole Eijiro Kirishima’s Hoodie

Part 1: The Convenience Store

It is a rainy Tuesday night and you are absolutely exhausted from work. On your way home to your apartment, you decide to stop by a local bodega for some junk food. You have been looking forward to binge watching a trashy reality TV show all day long, and some potato chips would be the perfect snack to munch on as you enjoy the juicy TV drama.

The bodega’s glass sliding door opens with a squeak as you hastily fold up your dripping umbrella. You shiver as the cool store AC hits your wet skin, and goose bumps flare across your bare arms. The day had started out deceptively warm, and you hadn’t dressed for the weather. You are deeply regretting the choice to wear the navy sleeveless dress that is now clinging to your body and dripping a puddle onto the dull bodega carpet. Oh well – you will be home in just a few minutes and will be able to step into a hot shower soon enough.

You grab a shopping basket and wander the aisles, eager to satiate your cravings for salty crisps. The store is unusually empty for the hour – the sudden rain must have kept most people inside. The only other people present are the elderly cashier, and a man pursuing the energy drinks in one of the freezers. The other patron is keenly focused on a bottle of purple Gatorade - intently reading the ingredient list on the drink’s packaging. You pay no attention to this other customer as you locate the snack aisle and load up your basket with chip bags boasting a variety of fun flavors (BBQ chips?? Yes please!). The aisles are tall – stacked ceiling high with boxes and bags containing every flavor of chip one could imagine.

SMASH! A loud crash reverberates throughout the tiny store, followed by the sound of small objects scattering across the vinyl floor. A deep voice booms out: “This is a hold up. Give me all the money in that register. And make it quick – I don’t think either of us wants any trouble.” You freeze; blood running cold in your veins as you quickly put the pieces of the situation together.

“I swear old man – I’ve got a special quirk that will make your life all kinds of painful unless you Hand. Over. The. Cash.”

You move slowly along the aisle, looking for a gap in the snack shelves so you can better assess the situation. Through a small space between cereal boxes, the situation comes into view – the man that you had seen shopping for sports drinks is now standing menacingly over the check out counter. He is around six feet tall with sharp features; a simple black domino mask obscured his eyes. Clad entirely in black, he stands with his right arm gripping the linoleum countertop, the other poised grotesquely above the cashier’s balding head. It takes you a moment to put together exactly what you were seeing – the villain’s right arm was a gigantic crab claw! If the situation weren’t so tense, you would have died from laughter. The scene is ridiculous – the man’s arm (claw) is twice the length of a typical human arm and had a bright, shiny red hue. This kind of mutation quirk always gives you a start – the unnatural way the man’s body blends seamlessly with the extra large claw is uncanny.

            The shop cashier looks up at the villain with terror in his eyes. He seems absolutely frozen on the spot as the masked robber clicks his claw menacingly. With a start, you notice that the inside of the claw is wickedly sharp. The villain flashes it dangerously towards the cashier’s neck to drive a sense of urgency.

            You assess your options. Your quirk isn’t particularly powerful, but it definitely has some use here. If you could just get a little bit closer to the situation, you could probably use it to distract the villain long enough to get the cashier out of harm’s way. You stretch out your hand to activate your quirk, but stopped dead when you feel a warm, rough hand clamp around your mouth from behind.

You try to scream, but the sound comes out muffled. Adrenaline floods your veins as you prepared to fight for your life. You hadn’t heard someone sneak up behind you, and you squirm in an effort to get away. An arm reaches out to steady you, and it’s owner whispers: “Sorry to startle you – I’m here to help.” The soft, gravely voice sends a fresh wave of goose bumps down your chilled skin. You turn to see one of the year’s top heroes - the Red Riot - crouched over you in the snack aisle. You’d recognize that trademark red spiky hair anywhere. Your body starts to relax a bit – things are under control and a hero is here!

Over the past few years, Red Riot has been making quite a name for himself in the media as a dependable, chivalrous hero. You’ve often watched his battles and rescues play out on the television – not only was he a skilled hero, but also he was kind and genuine. His interviews were your favorite – he always found such nice things to say about his teammates and the people he rescued. And he wasn’t bad to look at either.

He’s clearly not on duty – his usual simple costume has been traded in for a black t-shirt, jeans and a soft red hoodie. Your heart skips a beat. He’s so totally hot. When he realizes you’re not going to scream and give away his position to the villain, he releases you from his embrace. He smiles reassuringly, and the warmth of his grins reaches his eyes.

“I’m going to get you out of this.” He promises.

For a second there, you completely forgot about the convenience store hold up occurring feet away from where the two of you were crouched. Your senses are clouded by the closeness of Red Riot, who is still holding you steady with his muscular arms. When he realizes his touch is lingering a bit longer than necessary, he quickly pulls away. He shifts to peer over your shoulder through the small cereal box window. The movement brings him ever so slightly closer to you, and you find yourself inhaling the sweet scent of clean laundry. You lean the tiniest bit closer to him.

But back to the situation at hand – you can hear the crab clawed villain barking commands at the cashier. He wants all the money from the register as well as a roll of lotto tickets. He must be either extremely overconfident or incredibly good at crime – because this man is taking his time! Red Riot scowls as he watches the scene unfold. You can see his body tensing as he prepares for a confrontation. With a look of determination, he turns to you and whispers “stay quiet and out of sight. I’m going to go distract the villain and try to de-escalate the situation. If things get physical – run. There’s a dumpling shop across the street – get someone there to call the police.”

His red eyes bore into your own. There’s something so intense and hot about him. You feel a strange connection pulling you closer to this man, closer to the heat of his body.

            “W-wait.” You whisper. “I can help!”

            You point to the man with the crab claw – he still has the Gatorade bottle in the pocket of his pants. To his left you see a palette of energy drinks waiting to be restocked. “With my quirk I can control small amounts of liquid. I can distract him by levitating all those energy drinks at once. I’ll suspend them in the air and bring them all crashing down on top of him, giving you time to get the cashier out of harm’s way.”

            Red Riot smiles appreciatively. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m afraid I can’t ask you to put yourself in danger like that. I’ll handle this on my own. Just keep quiet and get across the street, okay?”

            You make a face. You don’t understand why he won’t let you help. After all, the villain seems untrained and unfocused. His claw hand can’t do much damage to a bunch of small, moving targets.

            “Trust me.” Red Riot reaches for your hand. He places the pads of your fingers on his palm. You can feel him activating his hardening quirk beneath your fingers as his skin slowly becomes rougher. “I was built for this.”

            You nod, unable to argue. His quirk makes his skin feel smooth and strong like the bark of an oak tree. You press your fingers lightly into the center of his hand, but there’s no give. Reflexively, he closes his fingers around your own, causing electricity to shoot through your hand at the intimate touch. Red Riot’s eyes widen, an apology already at his lips. You quickly slip your hand out from his grasp.

“Good luck, Red Riot.” You tap the hardened skin on his forearm. “You’re right – definitely built for this.”

            He grins, seemingly basking in the compliment.

            “That’s right – just leave this to me!” He whispers back. “Stay safe, okay?”

Red Riot army crawls down the aisle. You watch as he slowly steps out from behind the shelves and approaches the counter confidently, grabbing a bag of BBQ chips on the way. The poor cashier is now filling a grocery bag with money from the register as the crab armed villain hulks over him, sneering and clicking his claw. The villain doesn’t even seem to hear Red Riot approaching him from behind.

            In two strides, Red Riot closes the distance and reaches out to tap the villain on his crabby shoulder.

            “Excuse me, sir. I’m going to have to ask you to step away from the counter. Other people want to check out.” As he says this, he pointedly tosses his bag of chips onto the shiny linoleum counter.

            The crab villain whirls around, face full of fury. His eyes widen and his face contorts in fury when he realizes whom he’s talking to. The villain wastes no time – he propels himself away from the counter, whirling his deadly sharp arm towards Red Riot.

Crack!

The arm makes contact with Red Riot’s rock hard skin. The hero smiles smugly, his right arm taking the brunt of the blow.

“Why don’t we take this down a notch, sir? I’m clearly a match for your quirk, and the police are already on their way. There’s no need to fight, we can just talk - ”

            The villain moves surprisingly swiftly, shifting around Red Riot’s outstretched arm and reaching to position his claw around Red Riot’s neck. The hero’s facial expression shifts to surprise – he wasn’t expecting a villain with such a cumbersome quirk to be able to move so languidly. The crab villain slowly starts to press down his claw around the hero’s neck. Red Riot is making a face that clearly says “Oh, shit.”

You turn and desperately reach your hand through the gap in the cereal box display, pointing your fingertips at the villain and willing your Quirk to activate. Almost instantly, the Gatorade bottle resting half full in the villain’s back pocket lifts into the air as all of the liquid rushes towards the top of the container. You focus all of your concentration on the bottle.

Unfortunately, you never had a lot of opportunity to train and refine your quirk as you had pursued an educational track that prioritized tech and computer skills over quirk competence. However, you had a grasp on the fundamentals of how your quirk worked – and you figured if you could just distract the crab villain for a moment, you could give Red Riot a chance to regroup.

The villain pressed his sharp claw further around Red Riot’s neck. You could hear an ominous cracking notice – and you hoped desperately that the sound wasn’t the hero’s thick skin crumbling beneath his assailant’s grasp. You began to feel a sickening mix of adrenaline and fear coursing through your veins and you try to renew your concentration. The liquid inside the bottle begins to boil – the water fizzing and popping in the small confined space. You shakily will the bottle to float up and behind the villain’s head.

Red Riot uses his hardened hands to try to break the villain’s grasp, but the crabby grip holds fast. The villain is intensely focused on trying to crush Red Riot’s windpipe, and so he is completely taken by surprise when the bottle of Gatorade explodes and hits the back of his head with a splash of scalding purple liquid. The villain howls in pain – both hands reflexively flying to cradle the back of his burned head. In his pain and fury, he unwittingly releases Red Riot from his grasp. The red headed hero is quick to take advantage of the situation – dropping to the ground and sweeping a strong leg beneath the villain’s own. The crab-clawed villain comes crashing to the ground with a large “thud.”

Red Riot wastes no time, dropping on top of the villain to pin disproportionate arms to the ground.

“Sir, you’re under arrest for armed robbery and for engaging in combat with a licensed hero. The police will be here shortly to take your statement - but in the meantime please stop resisting.”

You breathe a sigh of relief as Red Riot continues to hold the villain tightly to the ground. Behind the counter’s register, the convenience store clerk still stands frozen, holding a wad of bills in bills in a vice-like grip.

You hear the metallic slide of the store’s automatic doors followed by several pairs of heavy boots off to your right. Within a few seconds, a team of police officers comes into view, their starched blue shirts bright in the florescent lighting.

At the sight of the police, the crab villain finally seems to give up fighting – his body sagging to the ground beneath Red Riot. The hero holds his position, eyeing the villain’s mutant arm warily. Even from a distance, you can tell his hardening quirk is still activated – he isn’t taking any chances.

“Great job, Red Riot! We’ll take it from here.” A tall officer with a glinting badge steps forward and uses a length of metal cord to bind the villain’s large clawed arm. “We’ve been after this guy for weeks!”

Red Riot smiles as he steps back and lets the police team capture his assailant. He turns and meets your eyes through the space in the cereal box wall. He grins at you, his dark eyes wink a quick “thanks” in your direction as he detectives whisk him away for questioning.

“Miss – are you alright?” You let out a small squeak of surprise, turning to find a short female officer with a tight bun of dark hair coming around the corner of the aisle. You look down at yourself – crouching like a wild animal in a soggy, rain-drenched dress.

“I’ve definitely had better days.” You laugh, allowing the policewoman to help you to your feet. You feel the adrenaline slowly start to melt away, leaving you feeling shaky and a bit lightheaded. You can’t think of the last time you used your quirk, so you’re sure the little stunt you pulled to save Red Riot has impacted your stamina.

“Mind if we ask you a few questions about what happened here?” The officer asks, motioning for you to follow her to the front of the store where the crab villain is being checked for weapons.

“No, not at all!” You wrap your arms around yourself and attempt to bring some warmth back into your body.          

The police had a lot of questions. Apparently this villain had been evading them for quite sometime. He had been robbing convenience stores across several cities. He was quick, efficient, and sometimes even deadly – having injured half a dozen clerks and store patrons in his mad pursuit of cash.

“We heard that you used your quirk to get Red Riot out of a spot of trouble.” The policewoman with the bun taps a pen to a pad of paper thoughtfully. Her tone isn’t accusatory; she’s just stating facts. “The unsanctioned use of a quirk in combat is illegal, but since you were put in a potentially life threatening situation and you were in under the supervision of a pro hero, the Good Samaritan law should cover your actions today.”

 You feel the last bit of energy absolutely drain out of you and you reach out to grab a nearby store shelf for support. Illegal? The thought of breaking the law hadn’t even crossed your mind. You had just acted on pure instinct when you saw Red Riot in trouble. You start to shiver more violently as the weight of what you’ve done fully sinks in. The policewoman quickly waves to another officer and you find yourself being guided to a chair.

“Miss - it seems like you’re in shock. Please take some deep breaths and we’ll get you to a hospital shortly to get checked out, alright?” The officer pats your hand kindly and pockets her notepad. She walks out of view to call a medical team with her colleagues and you are momentarily left alone in the corner of the store. You stare at the ground, your head feeling fuzzy and cold. It was so stupid to use your quirk so recklessly like that! You admonish yourself silently. You’re sure that Red Riot could have gotten himself out of that bad situation given time – he was a top hero after all! You were just so worried and eager to help…

A soft material engulfs your shoulders. “You’re freezing! Here – take my sweatshirt.” You turn and see Red Riot standing behind you, his strong hands pressing his large red hoodie around your shoulders. He smooths the plush material around you, and you shiver at the contact.

“I couldn’t possibly take this!” You said weakly despite your body hungrily leaning into the warmth of his touch and the offered piece of clothing.

“It’s too late – it’s already yours. Consider it a thank you for saving me back there.” Red Riot grins, showing off a row of pointed teeth. You gratefully accept the gift – tucking your arms into the floppy sleeves. You’re practically swimming in sweatshirt.

“I really shouldn’t have done that.” You look down, ashamed. “You had the situation under control, and it was irresponsible to use my quirk like that. You even told me not to help earlier.” You shake your head, and then blush when you realize you’re probably showering the chivalrous hero in raindrops.

“Don’t beat yourself up about that at all! While it’s true that a Pro can always break out of a tough spot, someone once told me that ‘meddling where you don’t need to is the essence of a hero.’ You moved without thinking to help me when I needed it. That took guts.” His grin widens. “I’m so lucky that such a strong person was looking out for me from the cereal section.”

You laugh, cheeks blushing at the compliment. He’s just so…handsome, grinning roguishly at you with his deep, dark eyes.

“Your quirk is really strong, too. What was that – liquid manipulation? Have you ever trained your quirk?” You’re taken aback by the sincerity of his interest in your small little quirk.

“Not really – I had the standard quirk class in elementary school where we are evaluated and learn how to control the basics of each of our quirks. Beyond that, I never had much interest in it. I can make small amounts of liquid float, boil and freeze. It’s not particularly powerful, but I can make a mean pot of soup with it.” You smile, appreciating the attention you’re receiving from the hero. “I went to a specialty high school focused on business and marketing, so I pretty much avoided any quirk training or hero-focused track. Exploding that little Gatorade bottle was probably the crux of my power.”

“Well it was incredible! I feel like you’re really underselling yourself – I see so much potential in you and your quirk. With just a little training, I think you could really do some damage.” Red Riot says excitedly, talking animatedly with his hands. You laugh, picturing yourself in some ridiculous hero suit parading around the city splashing boiling water on legions of seafood-themed villains.

“Surprisingly, the hero life is just not for me!” You grin before a wave of shivers wracks through your body. Is this from shock? Or is it the damp cold of your rain soaked dress finally catching your attention.

Red Riot instantly notices your discomfort and shakes his head thoughtfully before saying: “Stay here a minute, I have an idea.” He scampers away and you’re left alone again. You focus on taking a few deep, calming breaths as you zip the hoodie up to your chin. You inhale deeply and realize that the red fabric smells comforting and sweet – a combination of mint and cedar wood. You deeply breathe in the scent of Red Riot, and you feel your panic ebb away. You’re steeped in exhaustion as you slouch against the hard plastic chair.

A moment later, Red Riot re-appears, holding a steaming Styrofoam cup. “I made you some peppermint tea.” He says shyly, holding out the hot cup. “It always makes me feel better after a fight – I thought it might do the same for you.”

You take the cup gratefully and tip it back for a sip. He holds out a hand to stop you. “Careful, it’s hot. Give it a second to cool so you don’t burn your mouth.”

“Thank you so much, Red Riot. I really appreciate all you’ve done today.” You’re too tired to care that you sound like a fan girl.

“Hey, call me Eijiro. After what we’ve been through together, we should be on a first name basis.” To your surprise, his cheeks tint pink as he shares his first name. You smile softly and share your own nickname. He repeats it back to you, seeming to like the way your name rolls on his tongue.

“It’s nice to meet you Eijiro.” You feel the warmth of the tea sinking into your icy hands.

“So what were you buying here at the store anyway? Let me go get you a cart and – oh, hold on!” He absentmindedly leans in close to you, reaching out to pull a stray wet strand of hair away from your face. He tucks it gently behind your ear. “We should really get you a hair dryer or something!” He laughs, “You’re still soaking wet!” Despite just having met, the touch is so intimate and familiar. You lean towards him, wanting him to touch you again with his strong, capable hero fingertips.

“Red Riot – the press is outside waiting to interview you.” A police officer calls over, snapping you both back to reality. “They’re eager to hear about how you apprehended the villain. For the sake of her privacy, let’s leave this young lady’s roll in the capture out of it.”

Eijiro snaps to attention, his hand still hovering close to your face. He turns to give the officer a thumbs up. “Sounds good to me! I’ll be right there.”

He moves to look at you again. His eyes are wide and his expression intrigued. “They’re going to take you to the hospital to make sure everything looks okay. They’ll probably keep you overnight for observation until you’re out of shock. I’m sure they’ll take good care of you, cutie.” He stands to walk out of the store. “Thanks for saving my life – I hope to hear from you soon!”

And with a wave, he strides away towards the press team waiting outside. You look down into your tea, confused and quietly delighted at his hope to hear from you. You have absolutely no idea how you would ever contact him again, but the sentiment and the term of endearment he had used is sweet. Ever the chivalrous hero.

The next few hours are a whirlwind of tests and scans and interviews with police officers and doctors alike. Despite your protests, an ambulance whisks you away to the closest hospital and you are kept under observation just as Red Riot - Eijiro ­- had predicted. The staff is courteous and sweet, praising you for your roll in the incident when the police officers tip them off. You’re given comfortable clothes to borrow and access to a hot shower adjacent to your hospital room.

When you finally sink into the hospital bed, it’s pitch black outside. You flick on the grainy old TV that’s mounted above your bed and flick through the channels until you stop to see a familiar face on the local news.

Red Riot is smiling down at you from the TV set, his eyes warm as he answers the questions of various reporters.

“I was just shopping for some ramen when I noticed the villain. Weird coincidence that I just happened to be at the same store as him!” The hero laughs, rubbing his hand behind his head. “I’m thankful to the store patrons and the clerk who stayed calm as I handled the situation.”

“Red Riot – did you have any difficulty subduing the victim?”

Eijiro pauses to think for a moment before carefully saying “There was a moment that he had the drop on me, but a really cute shopper distracted him for me and allowed me to get the upper hand.”

“You’re so humble, Red Riot. I’m sure you had everything under control.”

Eijiro shakes his head. “I don’t want to encourage recklessness, but I do want to make it clear that you don’t need to be a Pro to be someone’s hero. The woman who helped me today – her bravery and willingness to act even when things were scary is what true heroism looks like. I’m grateful to her, and I hope that I’ll be able to see her again soon.”

The reporters continue to fawn over Red Riot for a few more minutes – peppering him with more questions that he cheekily answers. He avoids revealing any additional details about you despite the reporter’s needling and prodding. Soon the news broadcast ends, and the anchor appears on screen and starts discussing upcoming movie releases.

You sit with your mouth gaping open. Had you really made such a lasting impression on the sturdy hero? You feel your heartbeat increase at the thought, causing the heart monitors strapped to your chest to peep and whir. A nurse appears at your side in an instant, and you bashfully explain to her that you are fine – just a bit overexcited from the day’s events. Once she is assuaged, you return to flipping through channels before settling on reruns of The Bachelor. This wasn’t the soapy TV series you had been looking forward to all day, but it was as close as you are going to get at this point. You let the show run and before long you are dozing in the propped up hospital bed, dreaming of seafood villains and heroes with bright hair and dark, endless eyes.

When you’re finally ready to check out from the hospital the next day, the nurse at the front desk presents you with your belongings. Your wallet, your high heeled work shoes, and an extra large bright red hoodie. “Oh – I forgot about this.” You gratefully accept the sweatshirt and shrug it on. It swings around you like a trench coat, fluffy and warm. You can still smell traces of cedar wood on the collar.

You walk out of the hospital and into a surprisingly sunny day, metallic sliding doors parting for you as you exit. You sink your hands into the hoodie’s overlarge pockets and are surprised to feel a rectangular square object tucked into the deep right pocket. Had Eijiro left a piece of gum in his hoodie? You fish it out with your index and pointer fingers – it’s a small folded up piece of paper ripped from a notepad. Upon closer inspection, you notice that it’s branded with the convenience store’s faded logo. You guess it was ripped from the clerk’s register notepad.

Curious, you unfold the small wad of paper. Written hastily across the note is a messy scrawl of digits and the words: Would love to take you to dinner some time, cutie. Thanks for rescuing me. – Eijiro.

            Oh my God. He gave you his number. A warm blush creeps up your face as your eyes run across the note over and over again. What a crazy 24 hours it has been! You reach into your purse to grab your phone. With shaky hands you add “Eijiro Kirishima” as a contact in your phone, adding a few rock emojis and a bright red crab emoji beside his name. He’d probably find that hilarious.

            You draft up a fresh text to the red headed hero and type: “In need of rescuing tonight – the villain: hunger and boredom. In need of a hero who knows the perfect ramen spot.” You hit send and hold your breath. What if he’s on patrol tonight? You worry. What if he was just being nice and doesn’t actually see you again?

            Your worries are totally baseless, because within seconds you have a reply: “I’m more than up for this mission – meet me in front of the convenience store at 8. Wear the sweatshirt so I’ll recognize you in the crowd?” He ends it with a winking emoji and your heartbeat quickens. You officially have a date set with Eijiro Kirishima – the Red Riot.

Your hero.

Thanks so much for reading!!!

---------------------------

Other Kirishima Stories:

Headcannon: Kirishima LOVES wearing Bakugo's clothes.

🦈❤️Boyfriend!Kirishima ❤️🦈

A Long, *Hard* Night with Eijiro Kirishima (A18+ - MDNI!!!) 💋

Link to My Master List 😬

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.70)

(Sneak Peek) (Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: The pack meet with Moonbyul to discuss terms.

Tags: Fluff, drinking and drunk characters, hurt/comfort, trans! tae, dress up, girl on girl fluff, themes of forgiveness, vomiting, eating disorder mention but everything's good, brief sexual content, oral f. receiving, Exhibitionism, car sex, Talks of mental disorders, implied/confirmed autistic jimin,

W/c: 12.1k

A/n: Trying my hardest <3 I'm admittedly having a tough time right now, this chapter felt very nice to write because it's all about the beginning of the packs happy ending <3

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

At least Yoongi is sort of talking to you again. Sort of getting over it minute by minute. It’s hard. Namjoon watches you from where he's sprawled on the couch, holding a near empty bottle of champagne by the neck while Jungkook and Jin wrestle on the floor, sort of making out, sort of scenting each other as they go. Jimin requests a song that Tae would like- and then Yoongi and Hoseok are leaning over Yoongi's phone to make her the perfect playlist. happy to have something new and mundane to bicker over.

Morning is just cresting over the rooftops and the music is just turned down when gets up from the couch, slowly, dizzy. You're perched on the counter in your pj's watching Jimin and Jungkook chase each other around the room. the need to scent and wrestle and get all your restless energy out near palpable.

Hoseok and Jungkook have a tiny paper drink umbrella tucked behind their ears, the same one that Jin stuck in your drinks so that you can keep track of whose drink is whose. He and Jungkook gang up on Jimin to stick one into his hair, the tiny little baby bun that tae tied in his hair.

You giggle as Jungkook gives up and just loops his arms around Jimin's neck, no technice to it and all body weight dragging the three of them to the floor. Sprawled next to the library room door, now open. Tae’s makeup collection spread out on the green carpet like the fallen petals of some red flowering tree.

It changes from wrestling to tickling. and then the three of them are getting up and surrounding Yoongi, a paper umbrella in their fingers, Ganging up on your mate who takes it all with a huff and a surprisingly whiney, “guys.“

You still when Namjoon walks over, the same way you'd still if a wild animal were approaching. He doesn't settle close, just stands next to you, and pours himself the last melted bit of the drink in the blender. Pink and yellow swirling delicately. He makes a noise in his throat and looks at you like he hasn’t barely said a word to anyone in the whole last 24 hours, hasn’t barely said a word to you since you got off the phone with him and Moonbyul left the house. 

You sip at your drink, lips pursed around the straw and when you're done, Namjoon takes it from you and puts it on the counter. You think at first that he might be cutting you off but then he fingers the gauze there.

"I should probably check these." You nod obedient, wordless, unsure what to say. 

Fingers prodding at the red skin, delicate but knitting itself together slowly. “How much do they hurt?” he asks. 

“Probably a two,” you rate, almost without thinking, staring at his downturned eyes. The way his eyelashes still cling together from salt. Face glossy. You want to wash his face, pad across his cheeks gently the way that Jin does after you've been crying (something that you admittedly do a lot- the pack's resident crybaby). 

"So should I consider that a four or-" 

"No, this time I'm being honest," Namjoon stiffens, "It doesn't hurt when I touch stuff unless I'm not careful." Being honest about your hurts and pains has never been easy for you. But Namjoon has shown you time and time again that he's willing to take your hurts and fix them. You have no reason not to tell him the truth. 

Namjoon grips your palm, turning it over his hands again and again, looking down at your love line lifeline all tangled there and leveling you with a look that is neither angry nor resigned.

“Do you notice?” He asks, you swallow. Eyes itchy. 

“Notice what?” His finger presses to the center of your palm, the hollow there. 

“Still dry.” He says. 

You think of the mice, of drowning, you don't pull your hand from Namjoon's grasp, but you know he wouldn't let you anyway. You think about the mice, of dying, of trying to stay dry despite the things that try to swallow you whole. Water is not gentle, water is hungry. The rain pitters against the dark glass and melts the snow outside. But you and namjoon and the rest of the pack are dry and warm and safe in here. 

Your breath hitches, but you close your fingers around his hand and nod. “Still dry.” You agree. 

Namjoon closes his eyes and breaks the tension and this distance between you. Pulling himself between your thighs where you sit on the kitchen counter. Wrapping his arms around your shoulders to tug you to his chest, and breathing deep in the hollow of your throat. 

He pulls back just as abruptly. Hands resting on the counter on either side of your thighs. All up in your space and sour-smelling. It takes great effort for you not to turn away and keep his piercing eye contact. 

“Don’t do something like that again. Ever.” His jaw rolls and his scent spikes angry. But it's all temporary as you nose under his jaw to soothe him. Namjoon has every right to be angry with you for leaving, the same way Yoongi does. 

“Never. Promise.” You hold out your pinky and you mean it. 

Namjoon looks at you for a second, staring you down, waiting for you to look away. But then after a second, he loops his pinky through. 

Coming Saturday May 18th at 5PM EST (Time Zone Adjustments Below)

[yoditopascal]

Cherry Cola

“She my cherry cola, she gon' keep me sober. Let me keep you closer, bum me like a soda. Sweeter than the champagne, smoother than this cold drink. Keep me from the chardonnay, I'm just sipping one thing.”

summary: Stressed with finals coming up you and your friend group decide to take a much needed break at the beach where Sanemi can’t keep his eyes to himself.

warnings: suggestive themes, shy reader

a/n: inspired by an ask I got from @cursetopia

You were waiting for your friends outside your apartment, Mitsuri and Shinobu were on their way to pick you up to go shopping. Stressed with studying for finals your friends had decided you needed a break so they decided a beach trip was needed in your life.

Naturally when the boys heard about the trip they just had to invite themselves along much to Shinobu’s dismay and Mitsuri’s delight. Which was how you found yourself getting ready to go shopping for a new swimsuit with Shinobu and Mitsuri tagging along so you didn’t pick out anything ugly they had said.

“What about this one?” You said holding up a black and purple one piece with built-in shorts.

They had bought you to mall around the corner from your place and while you were content with just getting whatever was the cheapest and most comfortable they were adamant about helping you pick something out that would grab a certain someone’s attention.

“Be so for real right now…” Shinobu deadpanned

“I am being for real, it’s cute!” You cried holding the piece up to your chest. It was the third bathing suit they had turned down.

“Come on, what will Sanemi think?” She smirked

The girls had found out about your not so little crush on the math major one drunken night of truth or dare and have held it over you ever since.

“What about this one?” Mitsuri pointed out. It was a skimpy little red two piece, the tiny triangles barely even covering the mannequin it was modeled on.

“Hard pass…” you said, cheeks heating up at the idea of him seeing you in something like that.

“You’ve passed on everything I’ve shown you!”

“That’s cuz you keep picking things you like Mitsuri!”

“Fine you pick one then and don’t pick one with shorts! You’re too cute to be all covered up plus it's way too hot for all that!”

You waved her off as you went back to your search. Looking through racks and racks of swimsuits until you found one you liked.

“Absolutely not.” Shinobu said taking the swim trunks and tank top out of your hands and putting them back.

“Oh come on!”

“That’s it we’re picking one for you!” Mitsuri cried as she hooked her arm in yours and dragged you back to the racks.

“Already got one, and it’s not too revealing either.” Shinobu said holding up a modest two piece, she had already picked one out just in case you grabbed another pair of shorts and she wasn’t wrong.

“Guys I can’t wear that!” You cried out cheeks heating up again. You had never worn anything like it before, usually when you dressed for class you wore baggy clothes and hoodies. This was brand new to you.

“Why not? It’ll look so good on you!” Mitsuri said, nodding her head as she held the fit up to your chest as if she was imagining you in it.

“I don’t know…” you said looking to the side skeptically

“I’m not taking no for an answer.” Shinobu said putting her hands on her hips, that was her final word on the matter.

“….alright fine.”

With that you checked out with your new swimsuit in tow and headed back home to change and get ready for your trip.

At the beach you sat in a folding chair under a large umbrella, shadowing you from the sun’s harsh rays. Today was a scorcher and the longer you sat there in your cover up shorts and t-shirt the more miserable you felt.

“Why don’t you go get in the water, it’ll help you cool down.” Giyu suggested taking off his own shirt getting ready to follow Shinobu into the ocean.

“I-I’m ok thanks”

“Oh come on, I’m sure your swimsuit’s not that bad!” Makio said rubbing sunscreen over herself as Hinatsuru got her back, Tengen had brought his girlfriends along which you were grateful for since you got along with them the most besides Shinobu Mitsuri and Tengen himself.

“You haven’t seen it yet…”

“It’s really not that bad, I thought it was super cute at the store!”

“Besides, if you feel that uncomfortable you could always put your shirt back on.”

“…Fine.”

As you pulled your shirt up over your head Sanemi felt lilt the wind had been knocked right outta him.

There you stood in a low cut sage green two piece, his favorite color, that hugged your curves like he had never seen before.

Curves he hadn’t even known you had because you always wore those fucking hoodies to class all the time.

“You ok there Shinazugawa?” Tengen elbowed him as he draped an arm over Suma “You look a little stunned.” He laughed

“Shut up!” Sanemi snapped, shoving him away. His cheeks dusting pink as he tried his hardest not to stare at you.

Since when have you had such a nice chest? And your legs…. He’d kill to have them wrapped around his-

Shaking his head from his impure thoughts he pushed pass Tengen and reached into the bottom of the cooler Obanai bought and pulled out the coldest drink he could find.

You could feel the sun beating down on you from the shade of your umbrella, you knew that if you didn’t put sunscreen on you’d cook, quite literally.

Reaching into your bag you pulled out a bottle and got your arms and legs, rubbing in a generous amount so that you wouldn’t burn. Realizing you couldn’t quite reach your backside you looked around amongst your friends that were left.

“Does anyone mind rubbing sunscreen on my back?”

“Of course not!” Rengoku replied enthusiastically before Sanemi even had a chance, Sanemi glared him down as he jumped to his feet and strode over to you confidently.

It’s not like he wanted to do it anyways.

(He did.)

But did Rengoku have to be so ready to jump up like that? He didn’t have to be so enthusiastic about everything.

Sanemi watched from the corner of his eye as Rengoku rubbed the lotion on his hands, he sucked in a breath as he worked the lotion into your back, warm fingers ghosting over your skin before going lower and lower until-

Sanemi squeezed the can in his hand until it exploded. Soda flying all over the place and spilling down his hand.

“Dude!” Tengen shouted, wiping soda from his face.

“You good?” Obanai asks in a quiet but knowing tone.

“My bad…” Sanemi said not even looking at them. His eyes were glued to where Rengoku’s hands had been.

As the day drew on, the air around you grew hotter and hotter until it was damn near unbearable. Going in and out of the water didn’t seem to help much either so Rengoku offered to go and get everyone ice cream and slushies from a nearby vendor.

You sucked your popsicle absent-mindedly, watching the waves crash against the shoreline.

Sanemi discretely watched you drag your tongue up and down the popsicle, staring intensely as some of it had started to melt. Looking down you felt streams of the sticky treat run down over your fingers. You held your hand up to see where the trail of cherry popsicle had coated your fingers before drawing your tongue up your fingers, licking away the sticky mess.

Sanemi swallowed hard. His throat felt tight as did his swim shorts, the blood rushing to his face and a bit further down south. He squirmed slightly in his seat, as he watched you return to your frozen treat with little slurps and licks, eyes trailing a particular drop as it dripped down and hit your chest.

That did it for him.

Fuuuuuck," he groaned, nearly dropping his slushie on himself.

You turn your head to look at him, worriedly "You okay?" You ask .

“m’ fine!” He stammered back cheeks beginning to flush.

The coldness of the popsicle had caused your skin to blossom in goosebumps when it fell on your chest. Your nipples beginning to become visible through the flimsy material of your swimsuit. Sanemi’s ears turned red as his whole face lit up.

“It’s sooooo hot!” whined Mitsuri

“For real.” Agreed Makio as she fanned herself.

Sanemi agreed but he definitely wasn’t talking about the weather.

After finishing your snack you took a trip to the bathroom to clean yourself up as your friends went back to the water.

You could feel sweat dripping from your brow as you walked back. Holding a hand up to shield your eyes from the sun you scanned the crowded beach looking for any signs of your friends.

“ Well well well what do we have here?” A voice brought you out of your search, turning to the voice you spot a man followed closely by two others. “What’s a fine lady such as yourself doing all by your lonesome?” He grinned at you.

“Excuse me.” You tried to maneuver around him but he blocked your path.

“What’s the rush mama? We’re just being friendly.” Another smiled as they closed you in the middle of them. You backed up until your back was pressed against the wall of the restrooms behind you.

“I-I’m sorry I’m looking for my friends is all.” You stammered out eyes scanning around you for a way out but you found none.

“Maybe we could help you.” The other one suggested

“Yeah I mean if your friends are as cute as you then I definitely don’t mind helping you find em.” The first one said only half jokingly as he leaned against the wall getting closer to you.

“That’s ok I can-“

“No, we insist.” He said getting even closer. His face was practically in your own

“Hey fuckwad, she said she didn’t want your help!” A new voice snapped irately drawing everyone’s attention.

“And who the hell are you?” One of them asked

“Her friend shithead.” Sanemi said as he stomped over to you guys.

“Sanemi!” You cried out relieved.

“Let’s go.” He said shoving past the boys as he reached out to grab you by the wrist, dragging you along with him as he stomped away.

Once the pair of you were back at your spot on the beach Sanemi let you go as he plopped back down on his seat next to yours.

“Thank you… for coming to the rescue.” You said looking down at your feel embarrassed that you had to be saved in the first place

“You gotta learn how to stick up for yourself, I’m not gonna always be around to save your ass.” He replied, it came out harsher than he had meant.

“Right. Sorry...”

A wave of awkward silence fell over the two of you as you wrapped your arms around yourself, more self conscious than you had ever been.

“Here.”

Sanemi turned away as he threw his shirt at your face, it smelled like him, like matcha, mochi flour and a hint of an earthy musk. It was comforting.

“Oh Nemi you don’t have to do that.”

Nemi.

You called him Nemi.

His face and ears lit up bright red.

“‘s fine just take it.” He said refusing to look at you.

“…Thanks..”

Just as you opened your mouth to say something else a downpour of water rained down on you as Tengen stood over you wringing out his hair and clothes, wetting both you, Sanemi and his shirt.

“What the hell you flashy bastard?!” Sanemi growled, shoving Tengen away.

“If you two would stop flirting over here and get in the water with us I wouldn’t have to come over and bother ya!” Tengen said loudly, causing both yours and Sanemi’s cheeks to flush.

“Why would I wanna get in the water with you ?!” He snapped. You giggled at his frustration causing him to glare at you

“Come on Sanemi, it'll be fun!” You said standing as you hold your hand out to him

“…whatever.” Sanemi mutter under his breath as he took your hand roughly and stood.

Tengen made a whipping sound as he mimicked a whip causing Sanemi to glare back at him.

After getting in the water a splash flew up soaking both you and Sanemi once again, Giyu floated opposite of you both shaking his head as he emerged from the water.

“Sorry…” he said emotionlessly

“You’re dead!” Sanemi yelled, you laughed as he lunged for Giyu splashing water all around him as he did so.

You looked around yourself at all your friends, eyes finally settling on Sanemi, lingering there for a moment before you joined in on the fun with them. Even though there were some rough spots during your day overall you had to say this was a pretty good day at the beach.

[rems-writing]

Cyberpunk's bartender

》 Pairing: bartender!Wooyoung x gn!erader

》 Genre: Fluff

》 Wordcount: 1,800 words

》 Rating: nc-17

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society @othersideoutlawsnetwork @illusionnet

Wooyoung chuckled to himself as he saw a group of girls walk inside the club and saw one of them stand out from the others. She looked sheepish and definitely did not want to be outdoors right now. He understood far too well that sometimes, people just don’t like being forced to go out. As soon as Mingi, the bouncer that let these women in, gave a signal and pointed to the incredibly shy girl that flinched at everything, Wooyoung nodded and gave a thumbs-up in return. After all, he was also used to helping introverts like that woman escape. 

“I NEED THREE TEQUILA SUNRISES FOR BOOTH 1024!”

Wooyoung heard Jongho’s voice resonate within the dingy strip club and he nodded. He set to work on making the mixed drinks, pouring each amount of tequila perfect into the metal shaker before adding ice and closing it. He started shaking it with one hand while the other gathered three glasses so he could pour the drink in. Once he set the shaker down, he grabbed a strainer and placed it over the opened shaker before pouring each drink into the frosted glasses. He grabbed the tiny umbrellas and stabbed three maraschino cherries before topping the drinks with it. 

“THREE TEQUILA SUNRISES!”

Wooyoung’s voice was incredibly loud, even through the booming techno music the strippers were dancing to. Jongho hurried over to the bar and grabbed the drinks carefully before thanking him and walking over towards the booth. Wooyoung sighed and quickly washed his tools so he could prepare for making the next few drinks. He hated using dirty tools when making drinks. He believed that the remnants from the last cocktail mixed in with the new cocktail would make it taste bad. It’s a silly ideology, but to him, it made the most sense. He was currently watching the crowd and observing the different dynamics they got going on here. Soon, he felt a presence in front of him and he smiled brightly. 

“Well well. If it isn’t my favorite customer.”

You giggled and playfully rolled your eyes at his compliment. Wooyoung had first met you when you came in with so much stress. You weren’t one to drown your sorrows in alcohol, but you had just about enough. As an event coordinator and a travel planner, it seemed like you could never catch a break. The only upside to your job is that you were self-employed so you were your own boss and you could take as many days off as you want. After the occasions you helped out with, you were definitely taking a month long vacation. 

“Do you say that to all your customers?”

“Of course not, doll. They aren’t as put-together as you.”

“Ok ok fine. Enough with your pretty words. You know the drill.”

“So the usual then?”

You nodded and Wooyoung set straight to work. He decided to put on a little show for you since you expressed that you felt fascinated with the way Wooyoung makes drinks. From a simple whiskey on the rocks to the most complicated cocktail (i.e. the cosmopolitan), you believed he had the magic touch. After Wooyoung set your drink down, you thanked him and took a sip. You were surprised. Your usual, which was green apple Crown Royal mixed with Sprite, tasted stronger than usual. Not that you didn’t mind of course. You had a strong tolerance. However, this normally only had one shot of Crown mixed into it. 

“Woo. Did you put two shots in this?”

“I did. And before you ask, I didn’t fuck up. I added another shot intentionally. After everything you’ve told me, I figured you’d need to relax a bit more.”

Your heart fluttered at Wooyoung’s thoughtfulness and you thanked him by raising your glass to him. He poured his own shot and clinked his glass with you before knocking it back. He set his empty shot glass in the sink and handed you the menu. 

“Order what you want. It’s on the house.”

“Woo, no -”

Wooyoung reached over and put his finger on your lips to shush you. Normally, you would’ve rolled your eyes and shoved his finger off, but for some reason, you felt a bit flustered under his touch today. It definitely wasn’t the alcohol speaking. You weren’t even tipsy yet! Perhaps it’s just the environment you’re in. After all, you were technically in a place where women’s hormones go crazy. Once upon a time, you used to be like them. Now? You had your priorities straight. 

“It’s fine, doll. I mean it.”

“Fine… I’ll take the takoyaki and katsu pork bites please.”

“Want to throw some potstickers in there as well?”

“Sure.”

Wooyoung nodded and took your order to the kitchen while you sipped on your drink. While you were waiting for him, you noticed a girl trying to shrink back into the booth she was at with, who you assumed were, her coworkers. You chuckled as she tried her best to be a wallflower in a place such as Cyberpunk. You also felt bad for her as well. Mingi told you briefly about this woman and you honestly wanted to beat those women’s asses. Sadly, it’s none of your business. The most you can do is wish that she smoothly escapes them as soon as possible. 

“One order of takoyaki, katsu pork bites, and potstickers for my favorite customer.”

Wooyoung’s voice snapped you out of your observant haze quickly and you turned around to see the food placed in front of you. You were salivating. After weeks of eating nothing but healthy food in your own home, you considered today a cheat day. You grabbed your chopsticks and picked up a katsu pork bite before eating it. Apparently, this was a new thing on the menu. 

And you hoped they’d keep it. 

“Woo… this is fucking bomb! Tell the chef to keep this on the menu!”

Wooyoung chuckled smoothly and found your love for bar food so adorable. He made a mental note to do that before he left. As he watched you eat, he couldn’t help but stare at you. The way your hair fell in front of your face (he wanted to reach out and tuck it behind your ear), the way your cheeks puffed up as you kept eating (there were a few crumbs stuck to the corners of your mouth and he wanted to wipe them away with his thumb badly), and the way you drank your strong drink with such poise? Yeah this man is in love. 

“I NEED A ROUND OF SHOTS PLUS THE STRONGEST DRINK YOU HAVE FOR BOOTH 1117!”

Jongho’s voice broke Wooyoung out of his lovestruck stupor and he sighed deeply. He knew which booth Jongho was referring to. Setting to work, he first made the cocktail since it was a longer process. Once the drink was made, he took out a lot of shot glasses and placed them on the tray. 

“WHAT ALCOHOL DO THEY WANT?!”

Jongho asked the customer real quick on what shots they wanted to order before yelling back. 

“SOJU!”

Wooyoung nodded and took out some soju bottles before pouring the spirit into each frosted shot glass. Once he was done, he double checked to make sure everything was in order before shouting out to Jongho.

“A ROUND OF SOJU SHOTS AND A STRONG COCKTAIL!”

Jongho walked over and grabbed the tray once more before placing a dollar bill in front of Wooyoung. It was a tip. A generous one at that. Wooyoung pocketed the money before turning back to you. His eyes widened at the empty plate and they trailed up to you, still sipping on your drink as if you didn’t order so much bar food. 

“Well I’ll be damned. I’m calling you Kirby with the way you practically inhaled that food.”

“That would require me having a black hole for a stomach though, and we both know I don’t have that.”

Wooyoung laughed at your sassy reply and nodded before pouring himself another shot.

“To our aspirations of becoming Kirby!”

You clinked glasses and knocked back your drinks before setting the glass down. Wooyoung took your empty glass and looked back up at you. 

“You want a refill?”

“Nah. It’s ok. I think I’m done for today.” 

“Perfect!”

You were confused as to why Wooyoung said that and said it in that tone. It wasn’t until your eyes landed on an empty shot glass that you realized what he was doing. You immediately shook your head. 

“I have work tomorrow -”

“What time do your clients come in?”

“Uh… around noon or 2 PM.”

“Great! Now come on. Knock one back with me.”

“Wooyoung, I don’t know -”

“Did you drive here? If you did, I’ll take your decline.”

“Well no. My car’s in the shop so I took an uber here…”

“All the more reason to take a shot! Come on. It’s Friday!” 

“Woo…”

Wooyoung took your hand in his and rubbed your knuckles with his thumb. You felt more flustered than before and you couldn’t help but find him so handsome underneath the dim lighting of the bar. His black hair was tied back into a small ponytail while two strands hung in front of his face. His jawline was sharp, his lips looked tempting and kissable, and his eyes were shining with mischief and amusement. There was also a sincerity behind them too.��

“You work so hard, Y/N. You deserve this. I’ll take care of you. Like always.”

You didn’t say anything, prompting Wooyoung to continue. 

“I’m not going to lie. I mainly just wanted to flirt with you and get a rise out of you. I’m fine with being friends. However, if you’re on the same wavelength as me, then I will tell you right now. I fell in love with you. I’m so in love with the way you talk, move, and hold yourself. I figured someone like me could never be with someone like you. But I’m willing to shoot my shot and give us a try. The question now is… are you?”

You were taken aback by Wooyong’s confession. The bartender that you like also likes you back. You felt your heart hurt when he said that he doesn’t deserve someone like you when in reality, it’s sort of the vice verse. However, seeing as he’s willing to give it a try, you thought “Fuck it.” in the back of your mind. You were independent, made good money, and had a stable life overall. Why not share that life with someone? You intertwined your fingers with his and a small smile appeared on your face. 

“Yeah… I’m willing to give us a try.”

With that, you both took your shots, and the rest is now history. 

[theholypeanut]

★○★ Blue Lock Dere ★○★

Content: Which Blue Lock dere they become when they crush on you? Warning: toxic behaviour! Slightly swearing

Various bllk characters, gn!reader

Yandere

★○★○★○★

★○★○★○★

Before you guys even get to know each other more, he probably already knows everything about you. Your favourite drink? Consider it done. Ah, you usually forget your umbrella, here, we can share mine. Ah it’s very cold today, I have second sweatshirt, you can wear mine. He is always there for you, when you need him, and when you don’t know you need him (yet). If any other guy would show the slightest interest in you, he is quietly removed behind the scenes and you’ll never even know his name. Because why would you even want to know that, silly? You have him.

REO, NESS, Shidou (hear me out, possessive Shidou>>>), Aryu

Tsundere

★○★○★○★

★○★○★○★

Be careful, tsundere mode activated. Whenever this guy is crushing on you, he will tease you, be mean to you, and if you say anything remotely suggestive to them, they will just get red and deny everything. He acts like he doesn’t care for you at all, but whenever he does anything nice for you, he can feel his ears getting hot. He borrowed you his sweatshirt but don’t get any ideas, idiot. Uhhh okay, you can have some of his dessert, just stop whining. Him blushing is an actual gift from God - you’d never expect such a huge, manly guy getting flustered like a teenage girl.

KARASU, Kaiser, RIN, BAROU, Raichi

Kuudere

★○★○★○★

★○★○★○★

When this man has a crush on you, you wouldn’t know. He is always all cool and reserved around you, probably sometimes he would send you a polite smile, but he gives you no clues that he holds any romantic feelings towards you. He might borrow you the notebook, share an umbrella, but he looks like it’s another Tuesday for him. Only people around you might notice this tiny blush on his ears after your interaction, but they might just think they hallucinate, because his face is like stone.

Chigiri, SAE, Kenyu, Nagi, HIORI

Bakadere

★○★○★○★

★○★○★○★

That one adorable ball of sunshine who is always goofing around you, is absolutely disrespectful to your personal space, but in a cute, playful ways. He always puts his arm around you, hug you good morning, doesn’t feel bad just acting all stupid with you.

BACHIRA, Nanase

Deredere

★○★○★○★

★○★○★○★

The shy one. Around his crush he is an absolute mess - getting flustered for now reason, stutter whenever you ask him a question, getting nervous whenever you are a little too close. Probably need to mentally prepare himself for hours to act all cool and collected, while inside he is just screaming.

Tokimitsu, Iemon, KUNIGAMI, Isagi, Niko

No dere just smooth, bc this bitches just flirt with everything that moves

★○★○★○★

★○★○★○★

Okay, listen. This guy have no time to play dere games with you, he will just flirt with you like a God, and make you feel like in a shoujo manga (or Josei smut if you play your cards right). They are straightforward with their feelings, asking you shamelessly for your number and calling you baby girl in public. Playful flirty playboys don’t have time for dere bullshit.

AIKU, OTOYA (cheaters playboy VIP launch)

★○★○★○★

By slowlyholypeanut - please do not steal, put on other websites, share without credit, love u

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Liminal (RL!Mia Winters x MC/Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil 8/Resident Lover Genre: Fluff and angst and fluff and angst Rating: Idk T? for blood. kind of. Warnings: Major character death, major spoilers (mainly implied) for Resident Lover, minor violence (not in detail) Summary: Mia's memories layer over each other, nineteen lives and hundreds of different loops, confusing and muddling her perception of the present. There is only one constant: Love. Notes: Less of a series of scenes and more like a lot of musing, with a tiny, tiny "scene" at the end. Most of the Mia/MC vibes are implied (referenced past fwb situation, but it's implied that they had feelings beyond that). References to the MC dating a few of the other characters because loops.

She doesn’t intentionally seek the memories out, doesn’t chase the heart-killer of nostalgia, the wretched thing hiding rot behind a shiny facade. But neither does she spend any effort to avoid the trappings of the past. When the moments come, when deja vu greets her, Mia only ever lets it wash over her. Peacefully. Hauntingly. After this many lives, it is the easiest lesson to heed.

Sometimes the memories come with a smile, a soft exhale that flows into a snicker. The first time she watches you on stage, pouring your heart out as Romeo, she can’t help but remember having to help you cram for your Language Arts final. Recalls the way your lips pouted after a particularly exasperated sigh; she can trace the mental image of the way those lips curled back into a smile at one of her dumb jokes. It’s the joke itself she can’t remember. A jab at Shakespeare, probably, the man an easy choice of target.

There’s a moment (it repeats, by God it repeats, a dozen times over the loops, every instance layered on top of the last) where she sits next to you on a couch meant for three. Instinct makes her legs twitch, yearning to prop her feet up on your lap, not letting anybody sit between you. Instead, she suppresses a smile, and watches as one of your roommates all but sits on top of you. It doesn’t matter which one; in Mia’s eyes, they’re both better than Miranda, if only in this moment, for this purpose.

Other memories make her breath hitch in her throat, words stuck to the sides of her mouth like cotton, another stone to sink in her stomach. These are the ones that blend together the most, twisting further with every loop, muddling her perception of which life she’s in. Most come by accident, echoing the way she’s met you before. A bump in the hallway, papers scattering, both crouching down to pick everything up. Sudden rainfall making you scramble to share an umbrella, going back and forth between who gets most of the cover. Teaming up to take down the reigning asshole at whatever drinking game the campus is currently obsessed with.

“You look familiar- have we met before?” You’ll ask, once in a blue moon of a loop, except this time it’s more than reuniting with a childhood friend. This time it’s reaching out to pluck the heartstrings of your soulmate. One of your soulmates, that is. Mia’s response only ever comes with unearned confidence, mirth dancing on her tongue, deflecting, deflecting, denying- a hint of flirting, maybe, when she can afford it. Getting you to blush had been a favorite pastime of hers, once, twice, many times. Even if it never extended into anything more official than sharing a bed.

Seeing you at parties makes her feel like so little has changed. Always the same drink of choice, always too readily egged on by friends. If she squinted, it would be easy to put herself in Daniela’s place at your side, and so Mia never lets her gaze linger for too long. When the cups get too deep for you, it’s far too easy to stop herself from intervening. She never did before. Even when she should have. Those are the timelines where Angie does more for you than Mia’s past self could ever dream of.

It almost makes up for the time she finds your body crumpled in front of the doll’s car, crimson splashed across the bumper. She stares, only for a moment, wondering when she stopped feeling anything at the sight of your corpse. Then she catches a glimpse of three familiar fanatics in the crowd, makes note of the way their horror differs from those around them. Figures their attempts at keeping you out of the spotlight would go too far, eventually. Figures that the real nostalgia greets her fingers as they wrap around the handle of her knife. Revenge was an old friend- just one rarely visited these days.

Hard for her to thrive on revenge when she’s got the bloodiest hands of them all. Strange how the feelings shifted over time, guilt warping into freeing comfort. The first time she killed you, the first time she brought on a new loop across a knife’s edge, she almost threw up. Stared at the deep cuts and lost herself in the memory of finding Miranda cradling your lifeless body, the end of your past incarnation. It made her stomach churn, made her heart drop, and fully solidified her need to make sure the loop would meet a perfect end (the only way to guarantee you’d never meet that fate again).

By now, the blood flows freely, remorse a trinket left forgotten on dusty shelves. It’s for the best. Better her than someone else, better for her to soak your bond in blood than to let it rot in the open. Ending the loop fills her with relief, with joy, as she invokes her promise to give you not just a happy ending, but the right one. She loses track of how many times she’s knocked you down or out, how many loops she’s filled with blood, how many times she’s allowed you the comfort of bleeding out in her arms.

Ironic, then, that you never accuse her of murdering you, only someone far less important. More ironic yet that the finger of blame forces her to recall the life that bound your souls together. But that memory doesn’t perfectly layer over the present, when she’s not burning by your side, dying with your name on her lips. The way you look at her almost makes her miss the flames (the next moment she focuses on has your hands touch in passing, knuckles brushing up against each other, and she feels an entirely different kind of fire).

There are times where she wonders how much you remember. Not consciously, not truly, but which memories are etched into your soul itself. Now those are the moments that test her resolve, that tempt her to chain herself to pursuing the past the same way that Miranda does. All it takes to make her heart stop is for you to tilt your head to the side, eyes not quite narrowed, a sly smile paired with a twinkle in your eye. Something about that expression always lets her know you’re on the verge of remembering something. Half of the time you’ll follow it up with a carefully worded question, never sure if Mia feels the same deja vu that you do.

Your timing isn’t always perfect; she can’t blame you, not with the way her memories layer over each other, fighting to see which controls her present.

One hand in her pocket, clutching her switchblade, the other placed gently on your shoulder. Now that the election is over (again. how many times have you won? why do you never walk away, even when Bela begs you?), she needs to remove you. But your eyes light up as soon as she touches you. Head tilt? Check. Sly smile? Check. You should be scared by the way she’s looking at you, by the way she has you cornered on the balcony, but somehow your mind has skipped past the familiar danger and right into the familiar flirting. Aren’t you supposed to be in love with Bela this time around?

“Care to dance?” You ask, offering your hand. How long has it been since the two of you danced?... Not since Miranda refused to go with you, a lifetime or two or five ago, long before the loop. Mia had been the one to ask you then. Her expression now must mirror what yours had been that day. Surprise, amusement, and adoration. Of course she agrees.

By the time Bela interrupts, the way she does in too many loops, Mia is grateful. It had been hard enough to avoid kissing you in that past life, it was almost impossible now. Still, the Dimitrescu stands frozen for a moment, her own layered memories not finding any match for the sight. She’s supposed to be tackling Mia, knocking her off the balcony, body breaking in the bushes below. Neither of them move, trying to calculate a route to familiar endings.

Mia misjudges her decision, ruins the feelings, guarantees that you’ll harbor a hesitance to dance with her for all loops and lives to follow. She holds your hand, she holds her knife. She holds your hand, she takes your life. For once, Bela is the one who’s two steps behind, her shove coming too late, even if it still carries Mia off of the ledge.

Death never takes either of you for terribly long. Miranda pulls back the fog of limbo, breaks the rules, makes the void spit you both back out, resetting the loop. One wakes up with memories of everything, the other with only impressions. Lingering pieces of nineteen strange dreams, and a hundred futures cycling over one another with interlocking grooves, the only set pattern being love and love and wretched, bloody love. Mia doesn’t chase the nostalgia, doesn’t seek out the ways she knows will lead to love, to the familiar warmth of your heart next to hers. Why would she? All roads lead back to you.

[pinecipitation]

STARDEW VALLEY SAM X GN!READER HCS

word count: 800+

authors note: I’m not rereading this if there’s a mistake or something doesn’t make sense, IGNORE it 😭😭

warnings: none I think!! mentions of drinking, but only for Sam

- uses so much hairspray that you like to pretend that it got you, dramatically clutching your heart and falling to your knees whenever he accidentally sprays it over his shoulder onto you. lucky for you he plays along and drops it, immediately falling to your side and yelling for paramedics

- cannot survive a single day without your touch, whenever both of you are home he immediately comes to rest his chin on your shoulder or place his hands around your torso for a back hug. most days he will just pick you up without a word, your complaints and giggles on deaf ears as he silently carries you to the couch or bedroom

- that being said, LOVES to lay on top of you even when you complain and kick him off. he’ll go limp

- overheats so easily, call him “my man” or “pretty boy” or anything relating to that and he’ll turn red

- when he kisses you, a small quirk he does is audibly go ‘mwAH’

- wherever you work or whenever he’s over to pick up some produce at your place, will NEVER let the same joke go. He’d lean over any table or counter and try to brush his hair back with the same stupid “Do I get a discount if I flirt with the cute farmer/cashier?” and unfortunately you fall for it every time

- the first few times you jokingly said no or didn’t answer, he’d pout and begrudgingly take out a tiny note pad and make a small pretend tally on it, the whole time sadly and longingly looking over at you and pretend to write in a sad diary entry

- he’s a big fan of reoccurring bits

- we all know I’m a huge fan of multiple piercings, grown out brown roots, crop top at gigs version Sam

- but I also love summer Sam, where he’s running around in the water and splashing his friends and little brother at the beach

- I love messy hair Sam where it gets wet and it’s down, and how he looks completely different from his usual hairstyle but he’s still the same man

- I love out-of-breath Sam when he’s sneaking up behind you on your beach chair, jumping on you and immediately picking you up while you’re screaming about his salty wet body on your dry clothes, him giggling as he threatens to walk you two closer to the shoreline

- I love affectionate Sam who will come sit on the sand next to you if you’re more of a under-the-umbrella person, collecting little shells and rocks and balancing them on your left leg as you read or lay back and watch him. He just wants to be near you

- Y’all know that trend where it’s a guy with the caption “Waiting for my wife to finish putting on my sunscreen so I can go play” and when she’s done, the man sprints towards the beach/pool? That’s him, that’s him your honor

- I love somewhat athletic Sam who would eat up everyone in a game of volleyball or a swim competition at a swimming pool, feeling the need to express to everyone that even though he sucks at video games or pool, he does overshadow it by being better at ball games

- I love sunburn prone Sam where he almost always accidentally tires himself out and falls asleep on a beach towel, waking up a few hours later with a very visible red tint to him, or he falls asleep under an umbrella but one of his arms or legs were out and now he’s part red

- I love sunburnt Sam where he’s shakingly laid out on his stomach on his bed, hissing every time your cold hand spreads aloe vera on his unfortunate back. But once you’re done he gets up, coming over to envelop you in a hug and thanking you for taking care of him

- I love restaurant dinners on the beach Sam, who didn’t realize he was on his fourth or fifth glass and is slightly drunk

- I love clingy drunk Sam, who Sebastian and Abigail left under your care as he leans and drapes over you on your walk back home, talking to seemingly no one as he lists out things about you that he adores

- I love Sam, the way every time he gets drunk or tipsy he looks at you like he’s amazed you’re near him, not fully clocking that you two are together and he’s acting like he’s shy on a crush

- he likes you to be in the room when he gets ready for shows or dresses up, him always making a point to huff and get frustrated at his eyeliner just so you notice and offer to help. you miss his sly smile before he turns around and agrees, calling you his hero and drenching you in thanks until the next time he pretends to need help

- despite the soundproof garage, you always seem to hear a muffled agitated groan whenever he can’t get a riff or a certain note to sound right, always going over to check and he’s laid on his back on the floor like a bear rug in frustration. he does bounce back up when he sees you, complaining about the instrument briefly before asking you to stay with him. “good luck charm,” he calls you

- it’s without mention that you go to every show and gig, Sam always subtly looking for you in the crowd when he’s up there. you do think it’s funny to switch where you are from show to show, just so you notice him immediately look to the right and scan for you until he lights up and sees you on the left

- Sam with kids, he’d treat them like a baby sibling instead of a child

- literally any pinterest redraw meme where it’s a grown adult and a child, that’s them

- once the child is a little bigger and starts playing video games, he gets a little offended that the kid keeps coming to you for help instead of him

[thosefuzzywordfeelings]

Coming Home To You (Full Version)

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

cw; oral (f receiving), fingering, reader has a vagina, alcohol use (reader is fully able to consent), slight cum play?

Warm droplets of summer rain hit your skin as you stood just outside the bar, pay phone pressed to your ear as you spoke to your boyfriend. It was almost hard to hear him over the sound of the cars driving over the wet tarmac but you had to let him know you were safe.

In the least controlling way, Steve always asked you to call him whenever you went out at night, if it was to a bar or somewhere out of town; he’d sit by the landline, fiddling with the cord until he knew you were okay and what time you’d be back. Whenever he’d get home from grocery shopping or filling up the tank of his car, he’d slip a few quarters in your jacket pocket; knowing they’d be in there ready for your next night out. And so here you were, scrunched up next to the phone outside the only bar worth visiting. It was a little ways outside Hawkins so you’d let Steve know what time you got there and what time you were hoping to get home.

“I should be home in maybe, an hour? ‘Chelle just bought a whole other round of cocktails and I simply can’t afford to miss out. They have little tiny umbrellas in, Steve.” You said excitedly, briefly hearing him chuckle softly down the phone.

“That’s great baby. I’ll leave the light on, alright? Just…get home safe.” Steve said softly, smiling down the receiver as if you could see him before the two of you exchanged ‘love you’s and ‘byebyebye’s.

Walking back into the bar, the baseline to ‘West End Girls’ began to play, as you swayed back over to your friends, immediately sipping the cocktail that was placed in your hands. Wincing slightly, you looked at your friend.

“What is in this?” You giggled, carrying on sipping as your friend explained it had a gross but delicious mix of vodka, schnapps, some kind of fruit and more juice. Vodka? Good luck to Steve when you got home, you thought to yourself. Nonetheless, it was great and spending time with your friends was worth the sting of the headache you knew would spike in the morning. Since you'd all graduated and moved apart, it wasn't often you got to go out and meet with everyone at once. So the drinks were poured, the dancefloor was temporarily inhabited with you all and the bar tab was well used.

Time flew by and you checked the clock above the bar, noticing it said one a.m instead of midnight even though you'd sworn you'd just looked and it was eleven-thirty. Scrambling to get your coat and bag together, you made your way to the front door; tight hugs and cheek kisses exchanged as you said goodbye to your friends. "Steve needs me home." You yelled over the music. Now, there was no curfew on you, Steve would just want you home regardless, but the vodka and the homesickness churned through your veins; probing you to head home a little earlier than usual. The cab ride was fast, as you thanked the driver and got out, taking a big breath of fresh air as you looked up at the apartment building before you.

Steve hadn't taken his eyes off his book in a while, only to check the clock on the bedside table. No matter what, he'd wait up for you; wanting to see you tucked up under the sheets with a smile on your face before he'd even dream of closing his own eyes. The clock was now showing one-thirty a.m, and he knew it wouldn't be too long and you'd be back. As if by some sort of telekinesis, your keys would rattle in the doorway and you'd push the door open with a creak. Even though you knew he'd be up, you tried subtly to keep quiet. Putting your bag and coat down, you kicked off your shoes and headed towards the dim amber light illuminating the halllway.

"It's just me." You giggled as you pushed the bedroom door all the way open. And there he was. The most gorgeous man you'd ever seen, your boyfriend of almost two years although somehow everytime you saw him it was as if you'd stumbled upon a Greek god. Steve's eyes lit up from over the rim off the book, crinkling as he smiled up at you.

"Hi baby. Did you have a good night?" Steve spoke softly, sliding an old bookmark in the spine of his book and laying it on the bedside table. His hands folded up in his lap as he elant up against the headboard. Youd lean against the dresser, nodding with a sweet smile.

"Mhm..we danced and danced, and drank, then drank a little bit more. 'Chelle bought this round of, uh, like a fruity, bitter, sting-y, vodka cocktail and it was so good." You'd giggle, looking up at the ceiling for a moment as you tried to regain your composure a little bit, the alochol wearing off slightly as you found comfort in your safe space.

"Oh, so a very good night then, hm?" Steve replied with a smirk, sitting up a little straighter. Looking back down at him, you returned the smirk. Whenever you'd had cocktails, whether Steve was with you or not, you'd have had him within the hour of drinking and digesting them. Something about the spirits brought out a wild one within you, but also maybe it was the way his eyes darkened at you. Or the way his hair fell over his face a little. Right now, it was the peek of chest hair spilling out from the plain navy tee across his torso, the shadows of the lamplight against his freckled neck.

"Yeah…a good night…" You'd mumble, too focused on drinking in his features like you were dehydrated, his body the mirage of water in a hot desert. And boy, was he hot. You reached behind yourself, trying and failing to undo the zip of your dress. Steve reached out a hand, gesturing he'd help you with it. His eyes had a twinkle to them, a knowing of how turned on you'd become just from looking at him.

"Come here, baby. Let me do it." He spoke softly. His eyes too were raking over your body, watching the smoothness of your thighs as you knelt on the bed in front of him. Steve brought his hands up to your outer thighs, stroking them softly as they slid up to your hips, twisting them gently to get you to turn around. Spinning messily on your knees, you chuckled as you backed up and sat on them in front of him. His hand pulled your hair to one side, lips pressing against the curve of your neck and shoulder.

"Missed you." He whispered, fingers dragging down the zip of the dress as he pushed the straps down off your shoulders. With a sigh of relief, you spun round and crawled onto his lap. This was where you dreamed of coming home to, right here, sat on his thighs. Tangling your fingers in his hair, Steve stared up at you in awe - as he always did - fingertips digging into your waist.

"Missed you more." You giggled, as you finally let your lips press against his. Steve couldd taste the remnants of cocktail on your tongue, smiling into the kiss as he scrambled to push the bedsheets off of his legs and grip your body tighter to his. Within a split second, he had you laid out on the bed before him. You let your thighs drop open, needing him between them immediately as he looked down at you with that same smirk again. Leaning just above you, those chocolate irises would flicker over yours, taking in every furrow of your brow while his hands fumbled with the hem of your bunched up dress.

"Gonna show me how much you missed me?" Steve whispered against your lips, pulling your thighs up around his waist. You nodded sweetly, deepening the kiss and dragging him down closer to you. Something about the way Steve's demeanour changed when he needed you as much as you needed him made your body pulsate. It's like he could switch on this fiery, charged energy, mirroring yours.

"You know what I think, baby?" Steve asked, a saccharine sweet tone to his voice while his lips kissed small kisses along your jaw. Responding only with a light whimper, hips bucking up against Steve's, Steve would giggle at your neediness, his hands pinning your hips down against the bed. "I think - it's cute."

"What's cute?" A breathy whisper left your mouth as your hand knotted itself in the back of Steve's hair.

"When you walk through that door - all pretty - and desperate - " Steve mumbled between kisses, his lips parting as he let his tongue drag along the warm skin of your neck, " - just for me."

"Only you, Steve. Love coming back home to you."

His eyes darted up to yours whilst his mouth kept kissing down the crevice of your chest, tongue riding along your sternum as he smiled with a low "mhm". There it was again, the darkening of his eyes. Carnal brown, you've decided is the shade. A deep brown, bordering black, and it never left your own eyes even as he kissed along the inner of your thighs as they settled on his broad shoulders. Steve had your dress bunched up entirely around your waist, the top pulled down and crumpled as his hands flipped up the hem of the skirt.

"This is what I look forward to, you know that?" Steve mumbled against your bikini line, tracing the lace lining of your panties with his fingertips after he reached his arms around to settle on your hips. He knew this teasing would be worth it, he could see the dark dampness of your arousal glistening against the lace centimetres from his mouth.

"What?" You breathed out, leaning up on your elbows to watch him tease and touch you.

"Reminding you who's this is." Steve mumbled faux-sweetly, smiling kindly up at you before reaching his thumb down and running it over the swollen nub underneath your panties. A choked moan left your lips at the sudden contact, lip pulled between your teeth at this newfound confidence from your lover between your legs.

"Isn't it crazy?" He continued on, drawing small circles against your clit with the pad of his thumb, his eyes not leaving your face as he leant his head on your thigh cutely. God, he was beautiful. He didn't need you to respond, knowing your mind was too foggy with the faint sensations he was giving you. Steve could see it in your eyes, the way they were slightly glassy with lust as you stared down at him and his movements. The way your chest was heaving a little faster, subtly but noticeable enough to him.

"You're out there with your friends, dancing, sipping those fancy little cocktails - " Steve spoke lowly, his tone almost a sing-song as he hooked his fingers in the hem of your panties, adjusting himself up onto his knees so he could pull them down and off your legs. They were thrown somewhere in the room, you could care less, as you followed Steve's movement only.

"Dancing the night away on these pretty legs -" He carried on, settling on his stomach between your legs again as he kissed along your hipbones and along your mound gently. Hands coming to hold your hips down as he knew you'd buck up immediately, your cunt growing tired of the teasing. Steve could see your essence dripping down dangerously close to the sheets and he smirked, wetting his own lips with his tongue as he himself painfully held back from devouring you.

"And no matter who lays their fucking eyes on you, on this? It comes home to me. Hm?" Steve almost moaned as he watched your cunt spasm around nothing but the ownership that left his mouth. He couldn't help himself now, his tongue flattening against your slit as he licked a stripe up to your clit. When the bittersweet taste of your arousal finally hit his tastebuds, he couldn't hold back the feral moan that left his throat.

"God, you're all fucking mine. Beautiful, little pussy is all mine." He moaned almost as desperately as you had been as he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking softly as he gave into his urges, giving you exactly what you let your mind wander off to when you were out with your friends; your boyfriends pretty tongue. Rutting your hips against it, guttural groans left your throat as Steve hummed contently against your clit.

"Steve, please - fuck -" You whimpered softly, letting your elbows drop and your head fall back against the bed. Your hands tug at his chestnut strands tightly, pulling out deeper moans from Steve's throat.

"Show me." He pulled back to say, bringing an arm around from your hips and underneath your thigh; his middle finger gliding through your glistening slit, before pushing inside gently and curling up to press against the spongy spot that left you breathless. "Show me it's mine."

You were speechless, his mouth immediately latching back onto your clit and sucking a little harder this time, combining with the finger beckoning inside you. You were tightening around his digit and he felt it.

"That's it. I can feel you honey. What if I press right -" Steve asked softly, his tone a stark contrast to his actions as he pushed a second finger inside and curved them both up against that one part that always brought you to the edge.

"Oh fuck - right there." You mewled, hips grinding down against his fingers as your eyes tried to focus; they were hazy as your soul tiptoed on the brink of cloud nine and earth.

"Yeah? What's gonna happen if I keep pressing right there baby?" Steve taunted, fucking his fingers a little faster into that spot as he kept his tongue playing with your clit.

Your eyes rolled back and closed, as you were barely holding on to the overwhelming sensation. "I'm gonna come - if - I'm - " You stutter softly, trying to lift your head to look at him, but you know if you caught a glimpse of him with his lips wrapped around your clit and his fingers fucking into you, you'd be gone.

"You're gonna come? That's my pretty girl. Coming home to me, and coming all over my fingers. Just as she should." Steve moaned, setting his mind and only goal as making you come for him. He could feel you tightening around him, seconds away from release as he sped his fingers up, matching the pace as he flicked his tongue at the same time against the swell of your clit.

With one last vibrating moan against your cunt, you were gone. Numb everywhere else but your lower half; your clit throbbing against Steve's tongue as he sucked it into his mouth one more time, his fingers slowing down so he could relish in the rhythmic spasms around them. His spare arm held your hips as best it could, but Steve craved your squirming. His eyes travelled up your body as he watched you come, humming sweetly against you as he felt more of your essence coat his palm and his chin. Just how he liked it.

"You're so good to me, sweetheart." Steve whispered as he pressed his lips to the crook of your thighs and hips, kissing along your tummy and back up the route he came down not too long ago. Stilling his fingers for a moment as you recollected yourself and opened your eyes, his spare hand stroked the sweat-dampened hair from your forehead. You smiled up at him dazily, post-orgasm bliss etched onto your face. Letting your tongue fall out against your lower lip, Steve furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at your expression.

"What's this now?" He asked with a slight chuckle.

"Let me taste myself." You'd whisper, before resuming your expression. Steve's aching cock twitched in his pyjama pants as he gently slid his fingers from inside you and straight onto your tongue. He watched intently as you lapped up the clear dew from his fingers, feeling a deep need building. Instinctively, his hips ground down against yours as you wrapped your lips around them, sucking hard as you smiled and kept your gaze on his.

"Want me to really show you I'm yours?" You'd purr, letting your hand reach down to grip the stiff outline of his cock through his plaid pants. Steve's eyes fluttered shut at the contact, knowing you were going to ruin him and yet be the death of him simultaneously. Nonetheless, you were his.

[ghostsvacuumcleaner]

Okay, so I just read Salvatore and like, I've had this thought in my head for a while now. Kinda hoping for smut? I was thinking of a fan fiction of Leon's birthday. He comes home from the office, most of the lights in the house/apartment are out. There's candles and a birthday cake for him. And since his last name is Kennedy, like JFK, The reader is naked but does what Marilyn Monroe did for JFK'S birthday and sing him happy birthday!

Okay so this request was really fun to write! You just gave me the most plausible excuse to write some more porn, which honestly it's my favorite thing to do. Thank you for the trust and for this amazing idea and request; and I hope you enjoy it ♥

Happy b-day, Agent Kennedy |3.4k

ao3 | masterlist ✦ Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy x f! reader ✦ Summary: Its Leon's birthday. He thought you went out for a business trip, when actually, you have a little surprise for him at home. ✦ TW: NSFW MINORS DNI, explicit, f!reader, little to none f! physical appearence descriptions, smut, very much porn, soft dom leon, p in v, unprotected, lots of dirty talk, very pornographic, bit of fluff in the end

Leon was staring at his computer screen with little to no concentration at this point. He had spent the entire day trying to form connections between two clues he received on someone that the government had been sure was working for Umbrella. He sighed in frustration and let his body fall behind in the big chair; squeezed his eyes, he was tired.

So tired, the clock hit 8pm and he was still far from home. So tired he apparently forgot a very essential fact: his very own birthday. 

Realization fell over him when he unblocked his phone screen and checked the last text you’ve sent that day - a big red heart, after a cute “Happy birthday, bae! I’m sorry for not being there with u. Will compensate. x”. He closed his eyes, mindly damning himself for his workaholic behavior, how could he forget about his own birthday? “Must have lost my fucking mind, it’s drinking day.” He muttered to himself, before getting up and starting to pack up.

As much as he wanted you there with him, he was comprehensive to the fact that it wasn’t your choice not to be: you received an emergency call from work that same day earlier, and needed to pick up the first available plane to Seattle. Leon felt like a needy dog: always near you, always with his hands all over you – always checking you out. He didn’t want to look even more desperate about you and grumble about something out of your control, he understood better than anyone that work came first and foremost in situations like that.

He couldn’t help but feel frustrated to know that you wouldn’t be waiting for him when he got home; a box of beer for each, classic rock playing and you – dancing with you. Eating you. His expectations were put down, he would get drunk alone, listen to his songs alone, and probably find some relief in those polaroids of yours he affectionately kept to himself.

He gathered the documents and papers on the case and put it together in his backpack, turned off the lights and went out; let a deep sigh while going to the elevator towards the parking lot to pick up his car and go home.

━ ⟡ ━

Leon held two boxes of beer along with a bag with a few snacks and a tiny cupcake. He gave a little wave to a neighbor with a small, gentle smile on his face as he fit the key into the door lock and spinned it; to his surprise, the door was already open. His eyebrows instinctively frowned, he felt a cold feeling rising through his spine, he got worried. When working with what he worked with, caution became part of your daily routine; he held the bag in one hand and opened the door slowly, his adrenaline running through his veins, he was ready for anything.

There was a tiny source of light lighting up the spacious and cozy apartment living room; the light trembled through the shadows on the walls; candles. They were everywhere, some white, others red. An intoxicating, delicious smell floated through the air – your smell. Your perfume seemed to be deep-rooted everywhere. There was a small homemade cake on the center table, twenty-nine little candles lit up on top of it. 

The agent's alert state disappeared almost instantly, immediate relief swelling his lungs and releasing the most delightful breath of his life, and he couldn't contain the little mischievous smile that formed in the corner of his lips. He took a few steps forward to reach one of the chairs and leave the bags he carried on it, and intended to find you right after. 

Before he could even do anything, at the moment his figure gave a generous space between himself and the door, it shut itself behind him; Leon felt a shiver crawling through his spine, his stomach contracted slightly feeling your soft, naughty hands caressing his belly, raising his shirt up just above his navel, just enough so you could touch his skin under it with ease.

Your arms wrapped him, and your body clung to his back. His mind became white, slave to the sensations that you caused him; he could know by the perfect shape of your breasts against his back, and your spiked and delicious nipples, that you were naked. He felt a scratch coming down through his belly, the heat beginning to appear and burning his skin after every touch; your sharp nails scratched the skin of his chest slowly, those hypnotic movements of yours made him feel the blood flowing through his veins increasingly stronger, warmer, needier.

“Happy birthday to you…” You started to sing, your soft low voice tickled against his ear. You had to stand on the tip of your feet to reach him; one of your hands rose through his chest to his neck, causing him to drop his head back. You left a slow kiss followed by a roaring laugh down against his ear. “Happy birthday, Agent Kennedy... Happy birthday, to you,” you finished, the intonation of your voice seemed to move with every screw inside his head. 

“Full of surprises aren’t you, babe?” He asked in a rough, low voice, seeming like he could hardly control the excitement that at that point was already apparent in his voice. 

Leon closed his eyes with a smile on his face, he licked his lips slowly, already able to feel the resistance of his pants straining against his hardened cock starting to bother him. 

“Only for you. A special birthday deserves a special gift, hm?”

You smiled against his skin as you traced gentle, slow kisses against his jaw, his neck, left a bite there. Your hand squeezed slightly around his neck, your nails briefly crawling onto the skin with some traces of a recently shaved beard. Leon let out a low purr, the desire and tension almost unbearable to him at that point; his hand abruptly grabbed onto your wrist, and held firmly as he turned around himself.

In a matter of seconds, you felt him pulling you closer, his other hand grabbed your waist with desire as he attacked you with a ferocious kiss. You repaid in the same intensity, your arm wrapped around his neck, your hand grabbing the outstanding blonde threads that got messy with the intensity of the movement in your embrace, your body burned - his hand digging your hip, your ass - he tightened his grip heavily, as if he stated - your body was his.

“Want to drive me crazy, don’t you?” He muttered against your skin as he intensified his wet, messy kisses against your jaw and neck. His arm contracted in pure force when he raised you with one hand, causing you to wrap your legs around him in an intimate hug; you sighed in pleasure. That side of his belonged to you, and only you. No one else could provoke him that way, make him that horny and needy with only a touch, only a plead. That one Leon you had taking you, ravishing you right now was the death of you; when he held you tight, squeezed you with so much will, marked your skin with his bare hands.

“I like when you get wild, babe don’t blame me...” you hummed, trying to contain your heavy breath and the panting noises that came out of your mouth. “It’s your fault, I’m such a whore for you.” you smiled mischievous, biting your lip.

One of his hands still held you against him, the other moved to your neck as he moved into the combined kitchen next to the living room room; as his hands climbed over your body around the curve of your hips, he pressed you hard against the kitchen bench. Your back hit the cold surface and his body projected against yours, his weight immobilized you and you couldn’t hold back a soft moan when you started feeling the bulge on his pants pressing against the core between your legs.

“How am I supposed to not think about you all of the time when you’re like this…” he muttered, pressing his restrained cock against you once again. “Grab it.” he ordered, and you did it. Your hand squeezed into his rock hard cock through the thick fabric of his pants, starting to do slow and soft movements; he bite his lip and let out a growl in yearning.

Leon lowered himself, his mouth skillfully descended through your neck leaving a wet trace through your skin, his hand tightened around one of your breasts as if it were his favorite toy; you purred when he increased his grip strength, and breathe out deeply when he let go, the man’s lip suckling one of your nipples, his tongue slowly rolling into your most sensitive skin.

“No, you look at me.” He commanded, and one of his hands abruptly held your face by your jaw and forced you to lock your eyes onto his. He glared at you, lust overflowing from his look. Leon seeked to see your reactions, mindly recording them in his thoughts; to eat you alive, ravish you. One of his hands stimulated your nipple, the other squeezed raw your breast giving his mouth enough space to consume it. “Good...” he praised, as his kisses descended through your stomach, belly, fuck.

“L-Leon... Ah, fuck...” you purred, your body melting in pleasure against his mouth.

You were indecently trying to control your breath, but his slow movements seemed to destroy any part of you that was capable of self-control. Your hips instinctively moved against the volume in his pants, but Leon didn’t seem determined to finish you off quickly. He wanted to take his time with you. 

He pushed your body backwards against the bench, raising your legs around his shoulders; his head found space between your thighs, one of his hands palmed your stomach, pressing it down against the bench while the other tightened against one of your thighs. His tongue parted your folds in a smooth, almost insensitive movement. You felt your breath catching on your throat.

“You wanted that? You seem needy, darling.” he teased, the hand that caressed your thigh being replaced by now a finger movement, his index and middle finger parting your folds steadily leaving your clit even more exposed to him. “So wet this little cunt, aw...” he whispered, suckling you slowly. His body trembled and you frowned in pleasure with his tongue twirling around your clit as he traced slow kisses and slow suckles and velvety kisses against your core, your juices flowing through your thighs mixed with the spittle he was leaving there.

You growled in response, a submissive purr, a proof of your desperate need for him — more, of him. His hand against your belly intensified your sensations and made you squirm under him, your body started to slowly and autonomically move against his, your hip pushing yourself in a thrust against his mouth; you felt your conscience drop further every time he’d moan against you, like he was eating the most delicious meal he ever had in his lifetime.

“You close, aren’t ya?” he muttered with a naughty smile, why did he had to know you so well.

You lied. You were ashamed of how quick you felt you’d come. Tried to push him away from you, vain efforts - he ignored your hand and your push, and started to only push you harder towards your climax. He couldn’t hold his own needs by seeing you squirm ever so willingly onto his hands, that at this point, couldn’t help themselves but to work on his belt in record timing. He unbuckled it, unzipped his combat pants with ease just enough so he could pull down his boxers. His cock bobbled out in a very deserved relief, gleaming wet in desire.

Grabbing tight onto his length, Leon finally started pumping himself in slow, hard movements - masturbating himself to the obscene picture of you spreading your legs wide to him right now; everything about it was enticing to him: your wet cunt, your teary eyes while you were seeming so dumb, trying to hold back your orgasm, take off his control of you. You could hear the low and slicky sound of his movements while he was eating your pussy off with pleasure.

“Stop being foolish, my dummy baby… come for me.” he asked, with a pleading expression. “On my tongue, c’mon…”

“Leon, babe no- s-stop I’m- I can’t hold it longer…” you warned, and you were right - your eyebrows frowned in a painful, pleasured expression; your body started moving against your will stopping you from even trying to get away from his tongue. Your orgasm got you slowly, not on a surprise - like a very slow flowing sensation down your lower belly. You felt your body stopping for once, your feets squeezing themselves while Leon felt the little trembling pulses of your clit against his mouth.

“Delicious,” he whispered, licking off his lips and tasting every little piece of your slick he could possibly have. “You’re delicious.”

Another slow lick of his between your folds made you spasm a bit, you cursed under your breath before he smirked and left your pussy to rest coming up to you, kissing your body along the way, stomach, collar, mouth. He got rid of his shirt in record timing - you could feel his wet cock against your thighs, and so he pulled you out the bench and backed off slightly. The sudden void between your bodies made you whimper in need, but when you interrupted your kiss looking forward to complaining, the image of his got to you like a punch on your lower belly just again.

Shirtless; his pants open only enough so his cock was there, hanging ever so hard, twitching in need, reddened by the desire - pulsating, his arm contracted by the movements he was doing, pumping his length while staring you, drinking you in, licking off your slick from his own lips. 

He took you again, roughly putting you on your back and you couldn’t help but to mischievously smile, a naughty look on your face while your hands palmed the bench surface. His gaze was locked on your small figure under him; like a little bitch of his. A good, little bitch he had all to himself. 

“See how you get me… Fuck, can’t even hold myself, make me look like a teenager all again.” he hummed, feeling your wetness with a hand that palmed your cunt entirely, making you space out your legs. You could feel his tip against your folds now, tracing a path between them - it made you burn, tremble. “You want it? Yeah?” he asked, torturing you, finding it very amusing how your voice would get thinner and thinner, needier and needier.

“Yes, please.” you pleaded, biting your lip already so wet the sole contact of his cock with your core was making a nasty noise.

Leon wanted to make you beg some more; he wanted to, you knew it. He wanted to see you asking, pleading for more so helplessly, but he, himself couldn’t hold back any longer, he craved you. He took a handful of your hair and pulled it to him, making you arch your back just enough for your head to almost touch his chest; you were so drenched you needed no stretching, no preparations and he so knew it when he slowly fit his length onto your cunt. Your walls tightened to the feeling of his cock, the thickness making you let out a little cry in pleasure; he bent his head back, little drops of sweat forming on his head from how hard he was holding himself from not ravishing you restlessly for once.

He purred, and you felt that tip of his poke your insides the moment he fit the whole length; he stood, giving you a couple seconds to get used to this new filling of your empty space. God, how you wish you were filled all of the fucking time.

He kissed your neck, and breath heavy against your ear, none of you being able of forming complete senseful phrases at the moment; his hand was digging onto your waist, his body towering over yours, his weight pressing you even further against the counter you held so tightly into. 

“I want to die like this” he muttered, against your ear. “Inside this tight little cunt of yours”, he took a bite to your ear and before you could formulate a response, he thrust.

You purred even louder, your breath heavy, your mind going empty for a few seconds as he started to pump into you harder, those slow hard movements, your walls clenching hard against him while he was thrusting his hips so hard you felt like you could break anytime.

“Don’t stop-” was all you could say, your voice got caught stuck in your throat, your nails were digging tightly onto the counter wood; you were on your tiptoes so he could reach your entrance, your feets started looking for space as he bent you even further, stepping on top of his. 

He let go of your hair for a moment and pushed you down the counter, his hand pressing your head against the surface. The movements were wild, filled with passion, with fire, lust, chemistry - your sex was the best, you knew it, he knew it. He could barely hold himself together, he turned feral in a matter of seconds. The grunts of his need, your moans of pleasure alltogether. 

“You gonna kill me-” he grunted. “That’s it… That’s it, babe.” his voice was almost mute, you knew he was trying to hold back just as much as you. 

Your legs started to tremble from the effort, from your heavy breathing and from the pleasure that started taking over you once again; 

“Leon-” you moaned just again along with some incoherent sounds, and bite your lower lip, you could barely move yourself right now, he was toying you like a doll, making you his the way he fucking wanted it. He grunted out loud, you felt his hand reach up to your pussy through you body and stimulating over your sensitive and hurting clit - all hopes you had of holding yourself were vain at that moment, you lost the game; couldn’t hold any longer.

Your body squirmed and you let your head fall behind, a long and loud painful moan came out of your mouth, the pain mixed with the pure pleasure, your second orgasm of that day - it was almost too overwhelming for you. 

Leon’s stomach contracted, his muscles showed up, the veins on his arms were jumping from the efforts, sweat dripping off his forehead, his discharge was like a shockwave against his entire body; he shivered, almost unable of holding himself back the moment he pulled out and gave himself only a few pumps, enough so a big load of his cum hit your buttcheek, slowly dripping from your thigh while he tried to hold his breath steady; his head was now against your back and you could feel his breath catching your skin from time to time, while you tried to gain off conscience again.

You closed your eyes, tired and completely satisfied. He kissed your back ever so gently now, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you together standing again, letting your body rest against the counter in some support; after fixing his pants back in place.

“Thank you.” he muttered, digging his face against the curve of your neck, hugging you into a tight and passionate embrace. You smiled a little against his skin. “you tricked me just fine.” he raised his eyebrows.

“I know, right?” you laughed off a little, looking at him - his eyes, then low at his lips before stealing a little kiss. “You brought beer, right? I baked a cake. I’m not sure if it’s edible but it does smell nice.” you raised an eyebrow and he couldn’t hold off a little laugh to your commentary.

“Yeah, I did.” he sighed, not wanting to do anything else but hugging you in that embrace for at least some other hours, or perhaps for the entire night if you’d let him. “I love you.” he muttered, giving you a long affectionate kiss on the cheek; you couldn’t hold back a genuine, little smile.

“In italian.” you asked in a purr, your eyes with a solicit gleam. He brushed your hair with his fingers, before giving in.

“Ti amo.” he smiled, to which you answered a truly loving “I love you too, agent.” 

[familyvideostevie]

october twelfth

day twelve: james potter you encounter james at the bus stop | fluff, pre-relationship, flirty friends | 1.1k

The dark clouds loom ominously as you wait for the bus. It’s the best way to get to the pub for the birthday party you’ve been invited to. You don’t know the birthday girl that well, but Lily invited you because she’s nice like that and you don’t have anything else to do tonight.

Your small gift — a bottle of wine — is in your bag and you’re glad you brought your umbrella because you are almost positive it’s going to start raining any second and you’ve got a nice outfit on.

A fall wind rips down the street and you pull your coat closer, eager to be at the pub already with a drink in your hand to warm you up. You wonder who else will be there. Frank, of course, and Lily and the girls. Sirius and Remus and…James. They’re all new friends, all people who seem to like you, and you can’t help but hope that one person in particular will be there.

And then the skies open. You fumble with your umbrella for just a second before it pops open and keeps you dry. It’s absurdly big — an old flatmate left it behind when she moved out so you took it. You could fit three people under here and you hope the wind dies down otherwise you might be like Mary Poppins flying down the street pretty soon.

You check your watch. The bus isn’t due for almost ten minutes.

There isn’t anyone else waiting for the bus though the street isn’t deserted, instead dotted with people pulling out their umbrellas and hurrying to wherever they’re headed. Heavy footsteps clomp to your right and you turn to see who is running in this weather. It’s someone rather tall who inspects the bus stop sign and then curses. He pulls off his wet glasses and runs a hand through dripping dark hair.

Oh shit, you think. You know this guy.

“James?” you call. You don’t know if he’ll recognize you, truly, even if you’re a bit infatuated with him, but you’ve met him a few times at dinners and parties and such, so surely he will? You think of him as Lily’s cutest ex-boyfriend in your head to stop yourself from calling him hot James.

He looks up at you, squints, then puts his glasses back on and grins.

He calls your name and waves but doesn’t move. Thank god he remembers it. “James, come here. You’re going to get soaked!”

Water splashes under his shoes as he jogs over and under your umbrella. It’s big, sure, but it feels much smaller with him hunched under it with you.

“Bit late for that,” he says. “Can I hold it?” He’s taller than any of your other friends so you hand over the handle and he shuffles a bit closer, raising the canopy to a better height for him. “Thank you,” he says with genuine warmth.

“Of course,” you reply automatically. You get a bit silly around him, which Lily has teased you about, but you can’t help it. He’s so handsome and quite flirty and very nice.

“Are you going to Alice’s birthday?”

You nod and he grins again.

“Brilliant,” he says. “I am too. Thought I’d miss the bus so I left without one of these.”

James strikes you as someone who does not carry an umbrella even when he knows it’s going to rain. You wonder if he lives around here. Maybe you’re neighbors.

“Lucky I’m here then.”

He turns his body a bit so he’s facing you more directly. “Yes, lucky indeed.”

“What did you get her?” you ask. How do you make small talk, again? You’re not terribly sure how to speak to James. All you know about him is that he and Lily dated at school, he’s tall and handsome, and he plays some sort of sport. And you’ve certainly got a small, tiny, totally manageable crush on him.

“What?”

“Alice,” you clarify. “For her birthday.”

“Oh,” he says. He looks sheepish. “I forgot, actually. Bit classic of me, I’m afraid. What did you get?”

“Wine.”

“Clever girl,” he says. You feel warm down to your toes. “She loves wine.” He sounds genuine in his praise. “I’ll just buy her some shots when we get there.”

You like how quickly this has turned into we, even if you’re just taking the same bus to the same party. It feels nice to be going with him. There’s something about him that’s…magnetic.

“When is your birthday?” you ask.

James looks a bit surprised. You’ve surprised yourself. Water runs down his nose as he studies you. “March,” he says. “The 27th.”

“Aries,” you say softly.

He winks, so quick you might have imagined it. “Well done. When’s yours?”

You tell him and he nods. “I’m no good with star signs, I’m afraid, so I’ve no idea which one you are.”

He sounds so genuinely put out that you laugh. James chuckles with you.

“Why do you ask?” Great question.

You shrug. “I just like to know. Maybe I’ll get you a present.”

James looks delighted. “Really? Well, now I’m absolutely getting you one.” Is this flirting? Are you flirting with James Potter under your own umbrella while waiting for the bus?

“I guess you’ll have to find out,” you say, nose turned up. Your face feels a bit hot despite the chill. You’re about to make another quip when James moves very quickly and suddenly his arm is around you, tugging you away from the curb moments before a car rushes by and sprays water all over where you were standing.

“Sorry,” he says. He releases you and situates himself so that the umbrella handle is between you once more. “Saw that coming. And those are nice shoes.”

“Thank you,” you say, a bit shy. You would like him to touch you again.

“In fact, all of you looks quite lovely despite the fact that it’s raining absolute buckets.”

Yeah, definetly flirting. “James,” you chastise, but he looks downright pleased that he’s flustered you.

The bus rounds the corner.

“And we were just starting to have fun.” He fumbles for his bus pass in his pocket. “Will you sit with me?” A silly question.

“Of course,” you say through a smile. “You can hold this, though.” You point to the umbrella. “Don’t let it drip on my shoes.”

He gasps as the bus pulls to a stop. “I’d never.” His palm is firm on your back for just a second before you get on the bus. Maybe tonight’s birthday party will be more fun than you’d hoped.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

[nycbaby21]

Hottest guy in the bar

prompt: Trevor thinks you are looking at him, but you are really looking at Cole

word count:1,250

“Okay your turn Y/n,” Harper says swirling her sparkly drink around with the tiny umbrella it came with. “Guys you know I hate this game,” I say with a huge sigh. “C’mon, you have to. Rules are rules,” Melody responds giving me a look. Two years ago one night when we went out, we created a game. You give each other a category and they have to pick someone in the room who you would choose for said category. It was a stupid game but what can you expect when three drunk girls try to make a girl’s night more “exciting.”

Rolling my eyes, I do a quick glance around and my eyes stop on a table of four guys who look around our age. “Okay if I have to pick, I’d say him with the grey shirt,” I tilt my head in the general direction of them. “Okay, solid choice. I would have gone for the long-haired one but it wasn’t my question,” Harper laughs looking over at them. “Is it just me or are all of them like really hot,” Melody asks just plain out staring their way. “Stop it before they notice us looking,” I slap her arm, which does nothing. “May be too late for that hunny,” Harper smiles and points over to the table we had been gawking at. All four of them looked our way, some with smug looks.

The trio of us look at each other and start laughing. I can still feel their eyes every once in a while, I blush at the sudden attention. “Okay, it’s someone else’s turn,” I say downing the rest of my drink. “So Harp, who would make the best sugar daddy,” Mel says wiggling her eyebrows. Our table is once again filled with laughter, which gains attention from more than just the table of guys. “Definitely polo shirt at the bar,” she says and we all turn to look his way. “I cannot with you two tonight. I need another drink,” I laugh heading to the bar. “Don’t lie Y/n, we know you are really going up there for him,” they joke and I flipped them out while walking away.

As I am ordering my drink I feel a presence behind me. I scoot over to make room for them thinking they are just ordering a drink like me. “Why hello there,” I hear a deep voice say and I turn and see the longer-haired guy Harper was looking at earlier. “Hi,” I laugh and peek behind him seeing his friends all looking our way. “I’m Trevor. And who might you be,” his voice is filled with flirtation. “Oh uhm I’m Y/n. Nice to meet you, Trevor,” I say reaching around him to grab my drink.

 “So I’ll just cut to the chase. I saw you guys checking us out. Was wondering if I could get your number,” he asks with a wink. I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at him, which he took in a very good way. He stepped a little closer to me and smiled. “I’m so sorry. We weren’t checking you out. Well kinda but not in the way you think,” I say trying to be as nice as possible. After explaining the game he laughed too and I felt so relieved.

“Well I can’t say I’m not offended, but I think I’ll live,” he jokes putting his hand on his chest with a pout. “Oh, I am so sure that you will,” I laugh heading back to the table after telling him bye.”Dude sit the hell down and spill,” Harper says pulling me down. “He saw us pointing and giggling at them and wanted to come shoot his shot I guess,” I say shrugging taking a swig of my drink. “So that Greek god of a man asked you out and you said no,” she asks with a dumbfounded look on her face. Melody laughs so hard that she almost snorts. “I mean he is good looking but just not for me,” I shrug. She reaches over and puts a hand on my forehead checking for a fever. I laugh and push her hand off me. “I didn’t get his number for me. But after I told him I wasn’t interested he left this for you,” I smile and pass his number over to her.

She squealed and did a happy dance in her seat. “So he wanted Y/n originally, and now he wants you and that is okay,” Melody questions laughing. “Hell, I’d want her too if I was him. I’m happy to be the second choice for her,” she grins reaching across the table and pinching my cheek. We continued to talk and drink until we finally decided to call it. “I’ll pay the tab if you guys grab the Uber,” I say heading to the bar. “So we meet again,” Trevor laughs. I see him with another guy from the table. “Jack,” he reaches out to shake my hand. “Y/n,” I respond shaking it back. “Also thank you so much for humbling him. Really highlight of my night,” he laughs slapping Trevor on the chest. I roll my eyes laughing at the two while waiting for my card back.

“So you told me about the game, but I never got the question they asked you that Cole was the answer to,” the taller boy said leaning his back against the bar. A small blush creeps up onto my cheeks. “Oh, that. Uhm the question was who do you think the hottest person in the room was,” I smile at the bartender for handing me my card. I sign my receipt and grab a napkin writing my number quickly before I chickened out. “Actually could you give this to him for me,” I smile shyly pushing the napkin their way. “No promises,” Trevor winks turning to head back to the table. “I’ll make sure he gets it. For what it’s worth Cole is a really good guy,” Jack says with a smile and heads back.

I give the table one last glance before heading outside to meet the girls. I see the guy who I now know is named Cole smiling really big and blushing. We make eye contact and I give him a big smile and a wave heading outside. We all three get settled in the car deciding to head back to Melody’s place since it was closer. A small buzz interrupts our small talk and I pull out my phone.

Xxx-xxx-xxxx: If it’s any consultation I thought you were the hottest person in the room too ❤️

Xxx-xxx-xxx: this is Cole by the way

Pretty girl at the bar 🩷: yeah I kind of guessed that. and I guess it’s a good thing my friends made me play that stupid game tonight

Cole🔥🥵: well I’m glad my stupid friends made me go out tonight

Pretty girl at the bar 🩷: well here’s to stupid friends and stupid games 🥂

The two of us continued texting the whole night, which continued into the text day. Slowly going from texting to calling, and then calling to Facetime. I learned very quickly that Jack was right, Cole was a really good guy. Every time we walked I started to like him more and more. We had already planned a date for the next weekend.  And I couldn’t help but be happy for my friends dragging me out for a girl’s night and playing our dumb game.

[ghostchems]

nervous kiss x “can I kiss you?” with secundo 🫣

ha ha ha ha. about 1.2k words! we love a mysterious, nervous secondo.

The man had been coming in during your shift for the last few months. He would always order the same thing - a doppio espresso and sit at the end of the bar either reading or writing something in a tiny, black pocket notebook. At first, you weren’t sure about him — the face paint could be off-putting at times and it took you a few visits to realize that there were times he came in without it, his mismatched eyes hidden with dark sunglasses. You ended up recognizing his voice and put two and two together.

He never bothers anyone, only staying on his stool, deep in his reading and writing. It was difficult for you to not be drawn to him, the man wears skull paint and is so very relaxed about it. Yet, you realized you’ve never seen him smile. You started to have his espresso ready for him as soon as you saw him come in and you swear the first time you did it, you saw the corner of his mouth twitch into a minuscule grin. The more you had his espresso ready for him, the more he began to speak to you, starting off with small pleasantries and moving into some easy conversations.

He told you he went by Secondo but wouldn’t share much else about himself so you ended up telling him how this is a second job for you to help make ends meet but that you also really enjoy making drinks anyway. He seems fascinated with how you move behind the bar and will routinely take breaks from his work to watch you make people’s drinks, trying to guess what ingredients are needed. Secondo slowly became your favorite regular, especially after learning he only came into the store during your shifts.

During this particular shift, he hasn’t come in yet at his usual time and the thought that maybe he won’t be in today crosses your mind. The pre-closer has already left so you’re working on your closing tasks. It’s been a slow evening with steady rain outside, deterring the evening coffee drinkers. You’re working on wiping down the bar when he finally arrives, black umbrella in hand and his usual immaculate skull paint. You give him a small wave.

“On me today, Secondo.” You smile wide and he gives a small sigh before walking over to the bar. He knows better than to argue with you, at least when it comes to free drinks. You pull his shots of espresso as he gets settled, laying out his book and his notebook on the counter.

“Just you tonight, dolce?” His thick Italian accent rolls off his tongue.

“Mhmm. You’re in late today.”

“Ah, la pioggia, the rain kept me away but… well, I needed my doppio.” He offers a smile - he’s been doing that more often these days and it makes your chest tighten.

“Well, thank you for visiting. It’s been slow today.” You wave a hand around the empty coffee shop. “I’ve been a little lonely.” You slide his cup and saucer toward him on the bar and he reaches for it, the smooth leather of his gloved finger brushes against yours. A breath catches in your throat.

“I am happy to keep you company, dolce.” He lifts the espresso cup that looks comical in his large hand to his lips and takes a sip. A content sigh escapes his lips.

You work quietly on your closing duties but still make sure to check in on him from time to time. As your break time gets closer, you eye up the display case for a snack. You settle on a brownie and you carefully take it out with a piece of parchment paper before putting it on a tray and sticking it into the oven for about ten seconds.

You carefully set the brownie on a plate and grab two spoons before making your way over to the bar. Secondo’s eyes drift along your figure as you come closer and he watches as you sit right beside him at the bar. You slide the brownie in between the two of you and settle a fork on his side of the place.

“Share this with me?” You scoot in closer to him and use your fork to take a small bite of brownie. This is the first time you’ve ever seen Secondo look so blank. He nods and picks up the fork, beginning to slowly pick at the brownie.

“It’s very good, dolce.” He says quietly between bites. His eyes shift to your face. “A-ah, you have a little something —“ Secondo points to your face. You swallow the piece of brownie and try to wipe at the spot he is pointing. “Let me.”

He leans in and reaches his hand out, carefully using his finger to wipe away the brownie crumbs at the corner of your mouth. You feel your cheeks flush at his touch and he lingers there for what feels like eternity. Secondo’s finger moves from the edge of your lip to your cheek, the tips of the rest of his fingers brushing against it. You suck in a short breath, your eyes fixed on his. His brows knit together, hand quivering before he gave a soft breath.

“Can… can I kiss you, dolce?” Secondo whispers, his voice barely audible. He looks unsure of himself and almost a little bit afraid, even though you almost immediately nod yes. His hand cups your cheek and he very slowly leans in, his lips ghosting yours before he presses them to yours. The taste of espresso still lingers as you kiss him back, your lips moving carefully against his. He pulls away just an inch, feeling his hot breath on your lips as he gazes into your eyes

You lean in again just as his hand drifts to firmly grip the back of your neck. Secondo groans quietly as your hands fall to his chest, your tongue moving against his. You forget about the brownie and the work you’re supposed to be doing, your hands running over his strong chest and moving in as close to him as you can, practically getting into his lap. He wraps his spare arm around you, holding you to him while he deepens the kiss, using his grip on your neck to tilt your head back.

You moan into the kiss, your eyes fluttering open slowly as he pulls away. The two of you are left panting, the brownie nearly out of your reach after you’ve made your way into his lap. His gloved fingers toy with your apron, his dark eyes meeting yours. Your breathing quiets and you lean a bit away from him to take him in.

“I should… I should probably finish up closing.” You can feel your entire face heat up, realizing that you had just made out with a customer.

“Mm, si, si.” He sucks in a breath. “May I wait for you? Maybe… take you out for a drink that isn’t coffee?”

You nearly fall out of his lap, though you’re able to get your legs working again. If he didn’t see your blush before, you’re sure he can see it now, feeling it all the way up to the tips of your ears.

“I would love that, Secondo.” You can hardly hide the excitement in your voice. His lips curl into a small smile and he clears his throat, reaching for his umbrella.

“I’ll leave you to it then, dolce. I’ll be outside waiting.”