#underrated x readers

[shegetsburned]

❝ sensory night ❞ w. gyōmei himejima ੈ✩‧₊˚

.nsfw.smut.

underrated character collab entry !!

• — synopsis. himejima carries you to bed when you’re sleepy and tipsy after a gathering. one thing leads to another when you help him explore his other senses. • — a/n. it’s hereeeee. here’s my piece for the underrated character collab hosted by @honeybleed! ty again for letting me be a part of this. always love writing for my man gyōmei. • — wc. 3,7k

how long has it been? five? six years? you hadn’t had this much time to relax for years. you and anyone included at this small gathering. some hashiras gathered on the terrace, and some slayers gathered inside. for once, you were all decompressing and having fun. including yourself. you had drank enough booze to see blurred whenever you tried to get up from where you were sitting, words meddling themselves into your mouth. 

the stone hashira was watching you, as much as he could. when himejima heard your shiny laughter from the other room, he knew you were safe, it’s when it stopped that his brows connected in concern. he had to go take a look. 

sliding the wooden door to the adjacent room where some of your colleagues were gathered, he felt the pressure of the floor change when your back met the mat. it wasn’t long before the slayers made way for himejima’s giant stature to come over and gently pick you up, wrapping his arm under your back and knees. you were sound asleep. pretty little snores escaping your mouth. a warm chuckle made its way out of his lips when he heard how peaceful you felt between his hands. “i think it’s time for bed, precious one.”

the others laughed in unison before agreeing that your time at this gathering was over. your bed was waiting for you. 

gyōmei had been watching over you for years now. and you were certainly grateful for his presence. the wisest and strongest hashira looking out for you? you couldn’t have been more safe. 

but it wasn’t all innocent and you knew it. 

he couldn’t quite discern your facial expression when he was dreamingly staring a little too long. or how gently his words landed in your ears when he reassured you after a mission. or your blushing figure when he was standing always so close to you. 

oh. you were so grateful.

tuk 

the flask you had been carrying between your fingers made contact with the floor when your weight was lifted by his strong hands. leading you to your chamber was an easy task for the hashira. nevertheless, he wasn’t sure if he should leave or stay by your side. would you need more help later when you awoke? would you still be tipsy and unable to stand? 

why was it harder to make a quick decision when it came to you than on the terrain?

deep in his thoughts, gyōmei hadn't realized you had just woken up, still in his arms. it’s your giggle that alerted him. a soft and sweet giggle that could’ve warmed his heart if it wasn’t already so full of love for you. 

“gyōmei.” your sleepy voice reached him as he walked into the corridor leading to your room. you still weren’t on first-name bases after all these years so hearing it coming from you made his heart skip a beat., but his face stayed composed, as strong as ever.

“gyōmei, gyōmei-” you insisted, lingering on his name. you couldn’t quite figure out why you were in his arms in the first place but it seemed to not bother you when you searched for contact, placing a hand on his cheek with an impudent smile. “gyōmei. look at you, gyōmei.” your left thumb trailed his jaw before you extended your whole right hand around his other cheek. “your face is so soft, gyōmei..” 

you jiggled with his cheek, pinching his skin but he did not flinch. he wasn’t bothered, wearing his usual stoic demeanour, as he kept his gaze straight towards the door that was coming to your left. “you’re tired, small one. you should sleep.” if you had his perfect sense of hearing, you could’ve heard his strong heart beat faster ever since you laid your fingers on his face. 

he opened the door, with you still comfortably tucked into his arms before delicately setting you down on the squishy bed. you whined, now cold without the warmth of his body as you only wore that kimono that was barely holding on around your shoulders, revealing parts of your cleavage.

his eyes flickered when he heard a ruffle coming from your sheets where he had left you. he was standing on two knees beside your bed now, and you could’ve sworn he was taller than anyone you knew even when in this position. 

“gyōmei.”

“yes. what is it?”

he was always so patient with you. so composed and polite. so, was the moment right? was it right for you to continue your sentence and express these buried feelings you had felt for so long? 

“don’t you sometimes wonder...” 

hesitation drawn in your eyes– it was a good thing he couldn’t see.

“don’t you sometimes wonder what i feel like?” 

your words were followed by your hands wrapping around his wrist, slowly lifting his arm towards your face. 

he let himself be handled with apprehension and silence when he realized you were leading his hand closer and closer to your mouth. there was no resistance on his part when you moved it further, landing on your face. 

his hand was warm, scarred and calloused but it felt so soft against your skin. he was hesitant at first, all of his senses aleterted when he felt your body shiver against his touch. it was the first time he could allow himself to touch you so intimately. his hand cupped your jaw before slowly making its way towards your mouth. he pressed his thumb against your lips. it was such a comfortable gesture when he started caressing your upper lip, slightly opening your mouth with its movement. 

you couldn’t help but stare at him. the concentrated gaze he wore when he tried to memorize every inch of your lips made you nervously exhale. your hands were still wrapped around his enormous forearm as he took the lead from you.

the idea that gyōmei had of you was constructed only by the sound your voice made, by the wind caressing his face whenever you moved and by the musical chant of your laughter reaching his ears. all of it was enough for him to favour you. 

he didn’t only favour you, he longed for you. longed for more. longed for touch. he wanted to memorize the shape of your figure, the taste of your skin, the weight of your body, the sound of your moans-

he wanted to explore all of his senses with you. and maybe this time you’d be able to help him.

you couldn’t help but realize that he was completely silent when he moved his thumb past your lips without resistance. feeling your tongue and teeth was a whole new experience for him. a slight pressure applied with your teeth made him nervously inhale, but all you could hear was a deep groan when your tongue made contact with his finger.

while he inspected the interior of your mouth, you kept drawing small circles with your thumb still tightly gripping his forearm. you wanted gyōmei to feel welcome and not hesitate to feel more parts of you. 

you showed him by releasing your teeth around his thumb and sucking on it. he could feel his heartbeat all the way to his hands when you started to move your mouth. it was all so new and all so sudden, he didn’t know how to react to your invitation. he felt like losing himself. he wanted to lose control. 

you took your time, imprinting your lips around his thumb before letting him go with a sloppy pop. now that gyōmei had a taste of your saliva on him, he wanted more. as soon as you stopped, thinking he’d be too hesitant to continue, the gentle giant raised himself on one knee, leaning his whole figure on top of you and wrapping his hand around the back of your head. it was his turn to get a taste.

he started at the beginning of your neck, covering it with kisses and bites. It was slow and measured. he made sure he could remember every spot by heart before moving on to the next. his lips made you quiver as you uncontrollably let your head fall back with your eyes closed so you could get the whole experience. timid moans that he could hear so clearly hurried him to move downward to your exposed chest. 

you had never seen gyōmei like this. so imprudent. so eager to explore every single one of his senses with you without minding the consequences. he was already too deep.

when he shifted downward, you could feel his hand run across your whole body, tightly gripping and touching your shoulders, your waist, your hips. his breathing made the most sound when he opened your kimono, meticulously unwrapping the decorative obi string that kept the tissues together without even thinking about it.

gyōmei was so skilled with his hands, you had just now realized, and you too were excited to see what more he could do. under his strong and passive exterior, you knew he’d surprise you with his hunger. 

he started attacking your belly with his mouth when your upper body was naked, moving his hands further up so that he’d reach your breasts. his hands were huge when they grazed your nipples. he used one of his palms, slightly rubbing his skin against your pointy nipple. feeling a new part of you made his heart skip a beat. you were so small and frail under him. he could cup both of your boobs with one hand, but he waited. he waited patiently until a small whimper came out of your lips to play with you. 

he couldn’t hide it, the sole purpose for his next move was to hear more of these sounds you made that reassembled the most beautiful melody.

one hand firmly grasping one of your breasts provoked another sound before he rubbed his thumb on the tip of your nipple. at his touch, gyōmei could feel your body tense under him while he continued to make circles, taking care of one of your nipples, while his mouth did the work on the other. again, he was deliberately steady and torturous. with his tongue now flat against your nipple, he spread his drool around it. it was wet and sweaty and he loved it. he loved how it made you feel and loved how lucky he was to be able to explore your body like this. when his lips squeezed the tip, you reached for his head, planting your fingers on his scalp. he was immovable but it was mostly for you, so that he wouldn’t leave this perfect spot. 

when he finished working on your breasts both with his hands and mouth, he placed a last kiss under your right boob before moving his whole weight again. at the sudden stop, you lifted your upper body to have a view of his next actions and when you realized he was heading between your legs, panic settled in. 

“g-gyōmei.” half-drunk you tried calling to him. 

“it’s alright, sweet one..” 

even when he was whispering you could hear the power in his voice. you could feel his hand clutch around one of your hips and his exposed chest graze your pelvis when he lowered himself even more. one of his hands always stayed put on your chest but the other ran from your hip to your thigh. “let me rediscover myself with you.” 

and you let him. you were at a loss for words under gyōmei. even now, nothing about him was stiff. he was as tranquil as all the other times you had seen him, but something differed and you could feel it by the way he took care of you. he was lustful and stimulated. his giant figure towering over you earlier had undoubtedly made you flustered. you never expected to be so overwhelmed by all the attention he could give, but here you were, squirming under his large hands when he separated your legs. 

the mix of your sweat and body odour agitated his nose. it made him feel euphoric. he had no problem guiding himself to your naked pussy with one finger trailing along your skin to the interior of your thigh until he could feel your pussy.  when he did, his thumb played with your lips. feeling every curve by dragging his finger delicately, until he was satisfied. 

he waited a couple of seconds at your entrance before inserting his index in. feeling the wetness of your folds tightening around his finger made him flinch but he went deeper when he heard you yelp. one finger was already enough for you, you thought. it almost filled you and you couldn’t comprehend how he was so huge inside of you. 

you tried to close your legs but were unsuccessful under his strong hold. there was no way you’d be able to control your reactions now. grasping the sheets with one hand and your kimono in the other, the only thing you could try to do was hold onto something. unfortunately, gyōmei hadn’t had enough of your sweet sounds and started exploring your insides, fingering your pussy so perfectly. his hot breath against your skin only made your pussy pulsate around him more.

he felt everything around his finger, from the gummy interior to the slimy fluid that drenched his finger. without wasting any more time, he moved around which provoked a sudden cry. you couldn’t believe gyōmei was actually going there. you couldn’t believe that he was between your legs, working his way through your folds while you couldn’t do anything but stare at the silent man. 

despite his quietude, the feeling was exhilarating and he wanted more. soon enough you felt another one of his fingers enter your fleshy folds, making its way past your inner lips and joining the index, moving along with it. it made your back arch with pleasure when his fingers filled you entirely. his large digits made their way in and out in unison, searching for the spot that would make you twitch out of delight.

gyōmei took his time when he felt his fingers squeeze every time he went past that ring of muscle. he could intelligibly feel and hear the effect he had on you which made his hand clench around your thigh. 

while his fingers took care of the inside, he shifted his thumb landing perfectly on your clit. you could’ve sworn he had done this before but his eagerness made you think otherwise. he could perceive your positioning so distinctly. he knew when you closed your eyes, when you tried to silence your moans with a hand on your mouth and when you placed the other on top of his, towards your inner thigh. he could also sense that you were already so close to finishing with how he worked his way against your clit and how he had stretched you out easily with two of his fingers. 

your body tensed up as you tried to restrain yourself from completely letting go of the little control you had over your own body. thighs clenching, with your hand tightly wrapped around gyōmei’s, but he had little to no regard for your current state. 

he only wanted you to let go. but these sensations you both felt needed to last so that they’d left an imprint- so that he’d remember it.

“himejima-san.. please.” you begged when you squeezed the hand he had planted between your legs. you felt yourself so close to cumming, but the sudden switch to proper naming frustrated him and you felt him get rougher with his fingers. he knew it would cause discomfort if he tried to insert another one of his digits, so he maximized the hold he had on you. 

when gyōmei finally felt your body twitch with anticipation, he completely stopped his movement and felt moans of complaint through his ears. your head peaked up, brows connected in confusion. “h-himejima? why did you-“ 

he still wore a concentrated gaze when he took his fingers out, letting your plump pussy wrap them one last time, feeling every little inch of your walls against his skin. slimy fluid covering him and dripping out of your swollen and demanding hole.

gyōmei’s euphoric-like state sent shivers down your spine. his mouth was slightly agape like an idea had just blossomed in his mind. nevertheless, you could see that he was still captivated by the unique feeling you had procured him. his fingers were still grazing your skin when you felt a low grunt coming from the man as his breath tickled your skin once more.

you called his name once more but a sudden movement interrupted your words.

gyōmei lowered himself even more onto the bed, wrapping his strong arms around your thighs in a tight hold, easily moving your lower body along with him, until his mouth faced your empty pussy. 

when he was correctly positioned, he placed a trail of kisses along your right thigh, eventually sucking on the inner part and stopping towards your swollen lips as his warm breath landed on your skin.

“please. allow me, little one.”

his next words were followed by his hungry mouth against your wet cunt as you yelped out of surprise. flustered, with both hands on your mouth, you tried and muffled the next moans that were bound to come out, but gyōmei couldn’t allow it. he couldn’t allow you to silence the noises that made him feel all kinds of ways- that made him so hard. as a result, he extended one of his arms, effortlessly grabbing onto your wrists and pulling your hands down against your chest, before he continued to devour you any further.

it was when he parted your lips with his tongue that you let out your whimpers and it was like music to his ears. his mouth extended to the outside of your cunt, so he could easily suck on your nub before going back inside with his tongue. he had a large mouth that took such good care of you.

the taste couldn’t be described. this new mix of savour and odour was heavenly. it gave gyōmei a good idea of who you were and how you felt.  he was drinking out your soft and tired movements when you pushed your pelvis against his mouth. you let a long-ish moan when he lingered on your clit, a soft touch of teeth before completely engulfing it with his lips. sucking until he felt confident enough to shift to your spit-covered lips. 

to get a better grip, he pulled your legs further so they could rest on his broad shoulders. eating you out was like a dream come true. he could taste everything he had felt with his fingers minutes earlier. it awakened his senses and brought a whole new meaning to pleasure. his olfactory glands and taste buds were so stimulated that you felt deep groans and moans vibrating against your entrance that made you flutter. to hear such a composed and collected man lose his mind over you only pulled you closer to your orgasm.

a few minutes in and he had already explored every inch of your cunt, and you finally felt yourself coming. not wanting to make a mess and way too agitated to cum on gyōmei’s mouth, you tried to voice your concerns, tangling words mixed with pretty moans.

“g-gyōmei, w-wait-” 

he hummed against you, as if to approve. as if to tell you that you had the right to release yourself upon him. 

so when you gave up on containing yourself and with gyōmei’s encouragement you let out a long yelp, cumming all over his lips.

he drank you up, tightening his grip on your thighs while he enjoyed the sweet taste of your seed on his tongue. 

he stayed stationed between your legs for a while, properly sampling this new exquisite liquid and taking his time to savour it. he exhaled loudly before parting with your cunt, pressing soft kisses over your lips.

after a while, gyōmei finally decided to pull back completely, sucking at your inner thigh’s skin and taking in a final deep breath before lifting his gaze towards your face, with your sweet cum wetting his lips. he couldn’t see the state you were in, but could guess you’d be a mess.

sweating and trying to catch your breath, you had completely relaxed your body against him. your head lazily tilting back against the pillow, you had never felt more at peace. 

your orgasm had left your cunt pulsating, but the only thing you recognized was gyōmei’s fingers rubbing against your palm.

“thank you.” 

when you had enough strength to realize that he had thanked you, the sudden gratitude startled you. you lifted your upper body with one of your arms against the sheet while the other was still tightly gripped around his hand.

“you’re thanking me? himejima, why.. why are you thanking me?”

he raised his body with ease, all the way up so that he could stand above your naked figure, facing you. 

“sweet one. you taught me how to see without my eyes.” he murmured, as he moved his hand to wrap yours entirely.

“your touch, scent and sound have changed me. I have been waiting to explore these with you.”

his confession warmed your heart and you couldn’t help but stare at his face. he was still drunk on you but he spoke genuine words that made you uncontrollably blush. a cheeky smile appeared on your smile, fully surrendering to a hypnotic whirl of happiness.

that night, after a well-deserved break, gyōmei himejima had explored and reinvented the meaning of senses with your help; when you moaned into his ears, when he couldn’t keep his hands off of you, when he tasted every part of you and when your elated scent almost brought him to tears. 

although.. he did promise you he’d need more than one lesson to perfect his technique.

© shegetsburned 2024. Please do not repost/edit/or claim my writing as your own.

[bunniidollii]

just john b and subspace <3 no more needs to be said

you can’t help but just turn to putty whenever you spend any time around your boyfriend. it’s not your fault he only talks to you in that docile sympathetic tone. and he’s cruel about it— coaxing you into that submissive headspace in the least convenient situations, revelling in your embarrassment conflicting your desire. john b’s favourite time to do just this is when you’re all cuddled up outside the chateau, bodies pressed right up against each other. so he really can’t blame you when you start grinding your core against his thigh as his thumb slips into your mouth.

“you doin’ good there pup?” he murmurs down at you with the familiar faux-sympathy he always uses to get you worked up, careful not to disturb the rest of the pogues relaxing outside.

you manage to whimper out a strangled “daddy” between his thumb as you greedily sucked on it, grinding your panty-cladded core continuously against the cargo material of his shorts, already lost in a lust-filled haze.

“‘m still john b for now pup, gotta save all that for later, yeah?”

he knew your response before you could even open your mouth, just from the way you looked up at him with your pleading eyes, hips moving impossibly faster as they left wet stains in their wake.

“can’t daddy, need you now”

he’s quick to shush the whine that leaves your lips when he separates the two of you, getting up and out of the hammock to pick you up and place your writhing form against the side of his hips. your legs wrapped tightly around him as one of john b’s cupped the plush of your ass firmly. none of the others pay the two of you any attention, used to your antics after a couple of drinks. besides jj, who sends your boyfriend a subtle wink as they share a laugh at some inside joke you’re too lost in subspace to care about.

“been such a good girl, haven’t you? been such a patient girl for daddy.”

you simply moan in response as john b sets you down so you’re straddling his lap, wet core pressing up against his hard cock. your hands grip tightly onto his shoulders as his set to work on your clit, the rough pad of his finger circling the spot you desired him most. a little mantra of “daddy” repeatedly leaves your mouth as john b continues to swirl your slick across your pussy, before teasingly slipping a finger into your cunt.

by this point your tongue was hanging out your mouth, drool dripping down onto john b’s shoulder as it trickled down his back. he was talking you through it all with the same voice that lured you into this position in the first place, as his callous palms gripped your hips and jolted you across his crotch.

deep grunts left his mouth inbetween his teasing remarks, mocking you for being “such a dumb puppy, so wet and needy just from a lil’ dry humping”. the garbled moans that left your mouth only made him harder, priding himself in making you so cockdrunk with just his words.

he could tell you were close to your climax by the way your fingers dug even deeper into his shoulder, biting into the flesh of his collarbone to silence your screams. his grip didn’t relent as you came down from your high, continuing his quick pace as he guided you back and forth against his hard dick that strained against his pants.

your cries of overstimulation and the way your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you leaned fully against his chest for support were enough to push him against the edge. a thick pool of cum leaking through his boxers, causing a small dark patch to form on the front of his shorts.

never one to mess an opportunity, proving just how obsessed with john b’s dick you were, you quickly moved to sit inbetween his legs as you undid his zipper. getting the hint, he lifted up his hips to help you in removing his shorts, followed shortly by his boxers after you licked a couple of stripes across his clothed dick. you buried your face into the soiled underwear, relishing in his scent as you licked the cum off the material. once satisfied you had reached your fill with the piece of clothing, you began licking long and wet stripes up john b’s cock, practically inhaling his cum at the speed you were going at.

you then sat there, his once again hardened cock now in your mouth as you slobbered up and down, occasionally letting out a few gags when john b’s hand pushed down on the back of your head as he threaded his fingers through your hair. a perfect way to end an evening.

[wasitforrevenge]

[yanderederee]

Windbreaker Official Q&A !

Part1 › Part2 › Part3

(answer releases are slow, so I’ll post an update probably within a month or so?) -> Q&A hosted here

1. What would you spend 500 yen on?

Sakura: “I’d buy Saboten’s Curry Bread.”

Nirei: “I’d like to buy more notebooks!”

Sugishita: “Dunno.”

Kotoha: “A cup of delicious coffee.”

Suo: “I would donate it of course.”

Hiragi: “I just ran out of stomach medicine.”

2. If you were to travel in Japan, where would you like to go?

Sakura: “Well… a place worth taking a walk.”

Nirei: “We should all go to Okinawa, it looks like fun.”

Sugishita: “Dunno.”

Kotoha: “I want to see the snowy scenery of nature in Hokkaido.”

Suo: “I’d like to go to a tea plantation in Shizuoka and pick tea.”

Hiragi: “I want to try snowboarding, so probably a ski resort.”

3. What is your favorite seasoning?

Sakura: “Ketchup. Omurice with ketchup is the best.”

Nirei: “I like to eat rice cakes with sugary soy sauce!”

Sugishita: “Dunno.”

Kotoha: “Japanese-style soup stock. With that, I can make anything delicious.”

Suo: “I’d say soy sauce. It's sweet, isn't it?”

Hiragi: “It's delicious if you put miso on nigiri rice and bake it.”

4.) What do you think about before going to sleep?

Sakura: “Fighting.”

Nirei: “I think about everyone I was with that day.”

Sugishita: “Dunno.”

Kotoha: “Pothos's sales status.”

Suo: “The dragon sealed in the left eye is about to rampage, so I guess that's it, haha.”

Hiragi: “If I can’t sleep, I try not to think about it.”

5. What would you eat for your last meal?

Sakura: “What… Why is it the last one? I’ve never thought about it.”

Nirei: “High-class meat. I want to eat til I’m full!”

Sugishita: “Dunno.”

Kotoha: “I dont care what I eat, I just want to eat it with everyone at the facility and the teachers.”

Suo: “Hmm, I don’t need to eat anything.”

Hiragi: “If it’s my last meal, then that must mean I’m in a bad situation, right? That means my stomach hurts, and I wonder if I can eat it. If I can eat it, I might say Katsudon.”

6.) What happened recently that made you happy?

Sakura: “At the butcher's... I got a bonus when I bought croquettes…”

Nirei: “I was able to have small talk with Mr. Umemiya.”

Sugishita: “Dunno.”

Kotoha: “Customers really liked the new menu.”

Suo: * “I had two tea pillars stand recently.”

Hiragi: “I got a ticket for my favorite band.” (LETS GO TOGETHER PLEASE!!!)

* When pouring freshly brewed loose-leaf tea, you can sometimes expect to find a tea stem/pillar in your tea. It’s considered good luck if one of those pillars stand vertically.

7.) What would you do if a stranger of the opposite sex asked for your contact information?

Sakura: “What?! What are you going to do when you have it!?”

Nirei: “A-are you sure it’s mine you want!? Not Sakura, or Suo’s?!”

Sugishita: “eh… uh…. um…”

Kotoha: “Sorry~ I have a boyfriend.”

Suo: “I don’t have a phone, sorry.”

Hiragi: “O..Oh… is my number okay?” (YES PLEASE)

[icarryitin]

Episode 18: Help Me?

spencer reid/gn!reader

i love being in this guy’s brain there is just something so Character about him🧡 and happy birthday to you anon!!🥳

series masterlist

word count: 4.5k // warnings: injury description (dislocated shoulder), mentions of injections and pills for pain relief, poor and inaccurate medical knowledge, non-sexual undressing, would you believe me if i told you the sexual tension in the second half of this was accidental? for those reasons this is 18+

summary: You get injured on a case, and Spencer gets to play nurse. It’s a special kind of torture for both of you.

“Try it, see what happens.”

You appear out of the shadows ahead of them, the gun in your hands aimed carefully at the Unsub’s back, like a goddamn guardian angel.

The guy isn’t going to give up without a fight, even with three federal agents to contend with, that much is obvious. His grip on his weapon is far shakier than any of yours, fingers twitching ever closer to the trigger. You’ve made the split second decision to launch yourself at him before he has the chance to fire off a shot.

Which means Spencer has a front row seat to the sickening thud of your side against the ground when you tackle the Unsub. He’s grateful that he and Hotch aren’t staring down the barrel of a gun anymore, but less grateful that it’s come at the price of the grimace clear on your face. You’ll be bruised for sure, going down as hard as you do.

“Are you okay?” Hotch asks you as he hauls the Unsub up by his cuffed wrists. You take a moment to check yourself over, mentally inventory every joint and nerve, before you nod. Spencer holds a hand out towards you, which is taken without hesitation and you start pulling yourself up off the ground.

The crack of your shoulder as it pops out of the socket is so loud that the vibration of it tingles through your interlaced fingers and all the way up to his own.

A sharp yelp, followed by a weak whimper that makes his stomach flip, and he drops your hand like it’s scalding hot. You pull it into your chest with your good arm, palm cradling your elbow to give yourself a little support. Maybe you’d hit the ground a little harder than you meant to. It’s definitely dislocated. He can’t help but feel like it’s his fault.

Maybe that’s why he’s manoeuvring around you, where you sit pouting in a dusty heap. It’s what he tells himself anyway, as he slips large hands underneath your FBI vest – fingers pressed snugly against your ribs, separated by only a thin shirt, and he carefully helps you to your feet. The action has his face dangerously close to yours, so close that he’s terrified you’ll be able to hear how shallow his breaths are. But you seem to be far too focused on your own breathing to really register his proximity. Hotch is ahead already, Unsub in tow, but you’re the only thing Spencer is worried about right now. Someone else can collect the abandoned firearm from the ground, he has more important things to do. Like getting you into the care of a professional instead of his clumsy hands.

“Can you walk?”

A rhetorical question if he’s ever asked one. It’s your arm he’s pulled out of the socket, not a leg. You nod anyway, gently, but you don’t pull away from him. Instead your voice is soft, unsure.

“Help me?”

Of course he does, as if he’d be able to do anything else.

Does he really need to keep a hold on you, help you across the warehouse floor and out to an ambulance? Probably not. Does he do it anyway? Absolutely. You don’t seem to mind the closeness, judging by the way you lean into the solidity of him as the two of you shuffle towards the open door. He relishes in it, just a little. Because for all the camaraderie and familiarity that has built your friendship over the past few years, touches like this are so rare. Rare and usually instigated by you, when a case has hit him a little too close to home. It’s precious. To have you in his arms the way he’s wanted, wished for, literally dreamed about. There’s an irony in his earlier misplaced attempt to help you up, somewhere. Why can he only have you this close when one of you is hurting?

Raised eyebrows from the rest of the team be damned, he’ll carry you to the ambulance if he has to. He doesn’t but he’d try if you asked.

Spencer has seen all manner of terrible things. He’s seen them happen to strangers, friends, he’s been the one under the spotlight more than once. But he finds himself wholly unprepared to watch you wince as you hop up onto the back of the ambulance, legs dangling over the edge, arm still cradled protectively close to your chest. You flinch almost violently when the paramedic approaches you with outstretched hands which, in turn, only makes you hiss in pain. Your apology is small, quiet, sheepish. Everything he knows you not to be, which only makes him feel that much worse about being the reason you’re in this position in the first place. He’s not, the little logical voice in his brain tells him it was the fall you took, but he’s the one who offered to help you up. Can’t take that back.

“Do you have to?” You’re arguing with the paramedic when his brain checks back in to the conversation.

A sling has been placed by the open medical bag beside you, but it’s the object next to it that has your eyes wider than dinner plates. A needle, carefully sealed in its little package, ready and waiting to give you the pain relief that all three of you know you’re in desperate need of. There’s no way your shoulder can be reset here without it.

“You look at dead bodies all day, and you’re telling me you’re afraid of this?” The paramedic means well, he knows she does, but the grating sound of the sterile packaging being ripped open only serves to shrink you away from it even further.

“Phobias are rarely rational. In fact, the dictionary definition refers to one as being an extreme or irrational fear of, or aversion to, something. Phobias relating to medical procedures are pretty common actually.”

The barely hidden eye roll he gets from the paramedic would suggest he’s not helping the situation, but it’s the look that you give him. The one he gets across coroner slabs and conference tables and crime scenes, that tells him he is.

“I wouldn’t be offended if you didn’t want to, considering this is kind of my fault,” Spencer holds his hand up between you, wiggling his fingers in front of a sad little smile, “But squeeze away.”

“I don’t know, I might break it.” You’re going for a light-hearted joke, but your gritted teeth pay you no favours.

“Then we’ll call it even.”

You take his hand, and he wonders if he’ll need to ask the paramedic to break out the defibrillator next – judging by the way his heart stutters in his chest.

And, to your credit, you only almost break it. The first squeeze is tight, muscles in your forearm trembling as the needle plunges deep into your shoulder. It won’t be enough to completely numb you, the paramedic confirms, but it’ll go a fair way towards dulling the pain. You should really go to a hospital, a bodge job in the back of an ambulance isn’t exactly Bureau protocol, but he knows that isn’t happening. God forbid you ever get shot, he’s sure that getting you treated properly for something like that would be more traumatic for you than any injury.

The second squeeze isn’t something he’s prepared for. You hang onto his hand as though your life depends on it once the paramedic has decided the painkillers have kicked in enough, though her fingers on your shoulder still have you tensing. She tells you to relax, uselessly. Instead, you turn your head away, bury it into Spencer’s shoulder, and dig your nails into the back of his hand. His knuckles crack under the pressure, synchronised popping absolutely miniscule compared to the thunderous pop your shoulder gives when the paramedic manipulates it back into place. Tears seep through his shirt as they dampen his shoulder, the tension in your jaw gives away the sob you’re biting back. You swallow it before you pull your face from the security of his warmth – brave face, as always – and dutifully allow the paramedic to tug the Kevlar vest over your head to make way for the sling she’s prepared.

You’re too on edge to really pay attention to the instructions she’s giving you, too preoccupied on slowing your heart rate to hear about the over the counter pain meds you should take, how long you need to keep the sling on. So, Spencer listens. He remembers, as he always does. He nods and tells her he’ll make sure you do everything by the book, because he knows you won’t be on your way to the doctor’s office in a hurry if your recovery doesn’t go to plan.

JJ popping up in your field of vision seems to lighten your mood, the stiffness falls away and you choke out a laugh alongside a sarcastic comment about heroics being above your paygrade. It’s fake, the laughter. Your spine is still rigid, smile a little too tight to be true. But nobody else seems to notice. They’re just glad you’re alright. Something about your rapid mood change scratches an itch in his brain, the smallest part of it that’s just a little smug. Because you don’t let on about your fear to the others. Just him.

Spencer piles into the back of the second SUV after you, behind Rossi and Emily, and takes it upon himself to make sure you’re strapped in. Admittedly, you could manage it yourself, but he doesn’t want you to. There are eyes on the back of his head when he leans over to carefully pull the seatbelt across you, when he makes sure to steer clear of your sling, but they’re easy to ignore when you’re watching him the way you are. Your quiet affirming hum follows the click of the seat belt plug when you meet his questioning gaze, calming the pounding in his chest and he doesn’t pull back right away. Involuntarily, his eyes drop to your lips for the barest of moments.

He could kiss you.

Right here, right now. In the back of the SUV, with your arm in a sling, and your colleagues watching on. He could do it. But he doesn’t.

He knows what he wants your first kiss to be like – a little pocket of his brain is dedicated to it, plays scenario after scenario in the moments before he settles down to sleep every night. Silly little bedtime stories.

Except they’re not silly, because somewhere along the way he stumbled out of his harmless little crush and into something much more serious. He knows what it is, he won’t put a name to it. Instead, he daydreams. It’s not always the same, the location varies - sometimes you’re at work, in the bullpen or the conference room, or obscured from the rest of the team by the metallic bulk of an SUV. Sometimes you’re in his apartment, in the kitchen, by the window in the living room, in the doorway of his bedroom. Sometimes it’s just a street corner, at night, at midday, dawn, dusk. But you, you’re always the same. You always look at him with a smile that could light the entire city, and he just tells you.

Spills his guts out all over the floor, every part of him left raw and vulnerable, as he tells you he loves you - has always loved you. Maybe even before he met you. He tells you how his heart stopped in his chest that first morning you walked into the BAU office, how he nearly spilled his coffee down his shirt, how his glasses steamed up with the heat from his cheeks. How Derek, JJ, Garcia, the entire team has been teasing him for literal years. How sometimes he thinks he catches you looking at him, but that’d be just too good to be true wouldn’t it?

And then your smile grows, and you take a step further into his space until there’s scarcely any room between you. That’s when you tell him you do look at him, you look at him all the time. Because you love him, just as hopelessly and desperately and effortlessly as he loves you. That’s when he kisses you. When he grasps your face in his hands and takes a deep breath of you before crashing into you with a bruising force. You take it, of course you do, just as eagerly as he pours himself into it. The kiss of a lifetime. That’s how he’d do it.

But he can’t do any of that, not now.

So, he pulls back, plugs his own seatbelt in, and lets himself wallow in the post-case stillness that settles in the car. Punctuated by Penelope’s voice through the speaker on your phone though it may be. She’s relieved, a little mad that you’d put yourself in harm’s way, but ultimately glad you’re safe. He smiles to himself at that, he can’t help but agree.

Quantico’s parking garage is dark this time of night, of course it would be, but the chill of the concrete seeps into his bones. You shiver beside him as he helps you slide out of the SUV. Goodbyes are short, sweet, exhausted. Each member of the team wandering towards their own vehicles, leaving you and Spencer standing alone under the fluorescent lights.

“Let’s get you home, superhero.” He grins at you as his hand settles gently on the small of your back, guiding you towards the street exit.

It’s not far to the train station, the streets are still busy even at this time of night. Tourists and businessmen and politicians all alike. But you don’t get jostled in the slightest, he makes sure of it - carefully weaving through the throngs to get you safely to your platform. It’s only as he steps onto the train with you that you realise his own home is in the complete opposite direction. It’s borderline unfair how fuzzy he feels at your concern for his own journey.

“I said I was getting you home, not getting you to the station.” He can’t help the fond smile that settles on his features as you look up at him from your seat. He’s chosen to stand, partially in front of you, as a sort of makeshift barrier between your injured arm and any potential commuters who might stumble into you. He holds his hand out to you expectantly and it takes you another moment to fish your keys out of your bag. They’re placed softly in his palm, your fingers barely brushing his. The touch is so gentle compared to the way you almost squeezed that same hand to death only a couple of hours earlier. He just about manages to suppress the shudder that threatens to buckle his knees, and he counts his lucky stars that your building is only a block away from the train’s destination.

The thought only occurs to Spencer when he’s halfway over the threshold of your apartment, too preoccupied with getting you back safely to realise he’s actually never been in your home before. Organised chaos is the term he’d use. The open plan kitchen and living area is tidy but cluttered, books of every genre piled on shelves with no real strategy, a haphazard stack of second hand vinyls that are mostly Tom Waits sit atop an old record player, a small collection of cacti in mismatched terracotta pots are lined up on your little kitchen windowsill. The cupboards are a deep green, which should really be at odds with the peach tinged wash on the walls, but the combination is just soft enough to work. It’s very you.

“I can take care of myself, you don’t have to stay.”

Your name leaves his lips in the same tone it usually does before he can stop it, the same heavy sigh that wraps around the letters more often than not. God, you know exactly how to push his buttons, even when you don’t mean to. You’re missing the point entirely – he wants to take care of you. It’s so rare that you let him.

“Nice try,” He says as he sets your work bag down on one of the chairs at the round kitchen table, “Get changed, I’ll fix up some dinner.”

“You will?” The teasing grin on your face is either because you don’t think he can cook, or because you can’t. He’s leaning towards the former.

“Hey, I’m a man of many talents.”

You stand there for another long few seconds, just watching him. It’s not dissimilar to the look you gave him at the ambulance, in the SUV, on the train home. Like there’s something you’re desperate to say to him; only, you’re not sure how to say it. So you turn on your heel and close the bedroom door behind you.

Spencer physically has to shake off the weight of your gaze before he can move again, even after you’re gone. His own bag finds its place beside yours, jacket folded and draped neatly over the back of the metal chair. It’s the kind of dining set he’d expect to see outside a Parisian cafe, as opposed to being tucked in the corner of a DC apartment. Chipped white metalwork and all, probably originally a garden set, but it fits the eclectic thrift store vibe you’ve curated throughout the space. He finds himself drifting towards your overstuffed bookshelf, to the beat up record player and the pile of albums - the protective sleeve of each one shabbier than the last. He’d been right at first glance, the collection is mostly second-hand Tom Waits albums - with a little Queen, The Magnetic Fields, and Fleetwood Mac in the mix. The album on top is the most dog-eared, and he doesn’t have to employ a single one of his profiling skills to know this one is the most loved, most played, and he’s sure you’ll appreciate the comfort of some background noise. So he’s concentrating on sliding the record out of the sleeve, carefully placing it onto the turntable, and setting the needle down.

The bluesy first bars of Tom Waits’ Heartattack and Vine fill the room at the same time you open the bedroom door, looking more than a little sorry for yourself. And, to his credit, Spencer does a pretty good job of not laughing at the picture of you in the open doorway.

You’ve got yourself tangled up, all wrinkled shirtsleeves and oozing embarrassment - one sleeve dangles empty by your side where the other is still firmly encased by the sling, your sole free arm pokes out of the bottom of your sweater. Your eyebrows are drawn as you look everywhere but at him.

“Can you…?” You trail off. A breath pushes its way out of your lungs, half-sigh and half-helpless laugh.

“Come on.” He erases the distance between you in two strides, hands turning you at the waist before he can even really think about what he’s doing. You shuffle into the room ahead of him, soft rug shielding your socked feet from the cold of the wooden floor. He’s pleased to find the same decorative tastes extend through to your bedroom.

Another bookshelf, also stuffed to the brim with enough material to start your own bookstore. A little wooden desk by the window paired with a chair that doesn’t match, the wall to the right of it is plastered in multicoloured post it notes - a few of them catch his eye, reminders and ideas and shopping lists. Your bedspread is the same dark green as your kitchen cabinets, although it’s mostly obscured by a mess of patchwork blankets and jewel toned decorative pillows. Your sunshine plush has pride of place balanced against the left-hand bedpost on top of the headboard. Even without an eidetic memory, he’d remember the look on your face when he won it for you. Undercover at a travelling carnival in Oregon, the job at hand was to lure out an Unsub whose tastes fit you to a T, but he’d been uncharacteristically powerless to resist at least trying to get something for you. Your cover was a couple, anyway. He’d only been in character. Not only do you still have it, but it has pride of place, and something about it has his pride rearing its head.

You’re fussing with your pyjamas, a threadbare hoodie and garishly patterned sweatpants, when he turns his attention back to you. The reality of the situation seems to hit you both in the same moment.

Spencer is going to have to undress you.

It’s not how he imagined it would be - and that is definitely not something he needs to think about right now. He could keep his eyes closed? Although not being able to see where he should put his hands is arguably more dangerous than it would be to pay attention. He has to clear his throat before he can find his voice.

“I’m going to have to take this off,” He gestures to the sling, hoping he sounds less noticeably wrecked to you than he does to himself, “But we’ll go slow, okay?”

It’s cruel, is what it is, to watch you nod your agreement, to witness your unshakeable trust that he won’t hurt you so closely. Ultimately, it’s not overly different to the way he checks over your protective vest. There’s a strategy, a system to it just the same as the task that lies ahead, and he’ll follow it step by scientific step.

The sling is first, straps carefully undone and the support sliding off your arm - you both support it, your elbow in his palm where yours settles under your wrist. The one free hand you have between you, Spencer’s, works your shirt up over your uninjured shoulder and tugs it over your head. His eyes never drift beyond what you’ve asked of him, though it isn’t for lack of temptation. He slides the remaining sleeve off of your injured arm with a touch so light that neither of you wouldn’t know it was there if not for the skim of his fingers over your bare skin. Your hoodie replaces your work shirt just as carefully, in reverse. Injured arm first, head, uninjured arm. His tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth absentmindedly as he concentrates on looping the sling over the thick cotton, securing your arm tight to your chest again. Job done, and without too much embarrassment. He’d call that a success.

“Would you mind-” You struggle for a moment, “The clasp is fiddly.”

Spencer doesn’t know what you mean at first, and then it clicks - and it’s like all the air has been sucked out of the room. You need him to undo your trousers. He can do that, he can do it. He might feel like he’s about to spontaneously combust over the request, but he can do it.

There’s not a whole lot he wouldn’t do for you, to tell the truth.

It takes him longer than it should to slip the hook out of its clasp, usually nimble fingers fumbling under the weight of both of your gazes. But he doesn’t stop there. Because his usually brilliant mind is buzzing with static and his hands are moving of their own accord and the teeth of the zip on your trousers as he pulls it down is loud.

Spencer pulls back like he’s been shocked, while your eyes remain firmly glued to his hands. Hands that now wring themselves with anxiety as he quietly asks if you can manage the rest. You don’t respond verbally - it takes another long second, but you start shimmying the trousers off of your hips with your free hand. The slightest glimpse of bare thigh has him spinning on his heel and marching towards the kitchen in search of food.

He’s not thinking about the soft material of your sweatpants being pulled carefully over your legs in the other room, as he roots around in your kitchen cupboards. He’s not. A can of chopped tomatoes, a handful of half-empty spice jars, just about enough dry spaghetti for two. It’ll do. A pot of water is set on the stove to boil, the noise is enough of a distraction when the bedroom door opens again behind him. You shuffle about for a few minutes, digging around your shelves and Tom Waits’ gravelly tone cuts off abruptly to be replaced by the softer voice of Stevie Nicks instead. The volume ticks down a couple of notches before you join Spencer in the kitchen as he warms the tomatoes and spices alongside the boiling noodles, moving around him with the same ease you do in the office. You pull out two bowls that don’t match - one is shallower and wider and glazed a sunshine yellow, there’s a chip in the lip of it. The other one is smaller, deeper, glazed navy blue instead and with a cheeky face etched into the pottery. Its nose protrudes slightly, rounded out on one side. He can’t help his smile when he dishes out two equal portions and the red sauce drips down onto the bowl’s nose. He swipes at the mess with his thumb before handing you the bowl.

“Thank you.” You search out his gaze this time, urging him to look you in the eye. For cooking, or what he’s sure is your favourite bowl, or staying. He’s not sure. He wants to tell you that you don’t have to thank him, he’d drop anything and everything at any moment if you needed him to. But something in your eyes has stolen his voice, a flicker of something he’s far too terrified to acknowledge. So he only smiles, takes the yellow dish in his hands, and follows you to the comfort of your vintage floral couch.

It’s not a table dinner kind of evening, you seem to have decided. Although the precarious balance of the bowl on your knees suggests otherwise, as you try to eat one handed. Spencer leans forward to pull the cushion from behind his back, his own dinner temporarily abandoned on the floor in front of him, and he picks up your bowl to slide the cushion across your lap in lieu of a tray. Your laugh is quiet, you don’t look at him, but whatever tension had built in the bedroom dissipates with the sound.

Even so, he shoots off a text to Penelope while you’re preoccupied with your spaghetti, asks if she can lend you a helping hand for the next few days if you need one. You shouldn’t need the sling for more than a week anyway. She responds with a smiley face and a kiss almost immediately. It’s not the first time in his life he’s thanked whatever mystical force is responsible for Penelope Garcia.

Spencer will corral you to the doctor’s office for a checkup in a few days, he’ll make sure you do your stretches, he’ll set alarms for your painkillers. And, ultimately, he’ll come back if you ask him to. He’ll help you in and out of your pyjamas if that’s what you want, of course he will.

Regardless of the way it sets his insides aflame. He’ll do it for you.

yes i know reader inserts are blank slates yes this apartment is basically just my own flat no i don’t care thank u🧡🧡

[n1ght0f-nyx]

mha boys asking you out 3/3

warnings/tags: cliffhanger, more fanon way of acting than canon ngl, i dont think there are warnings other than that- feel free to dm me if you notice a common warning that could affect someone characters: tamaki amajiki, koji koda, fumikage tokoyami, mezo shouji, hanta sero, tenya iida,yuga aoyama, shinsou, mirio togata, surprise guest at the end!! words: 2183

tamaki amajiki

I was sitting in the school courtyard, enjoying a rare moment of peace between classes, when I noticed Tamaki Amajiki standing a few feet away. He was fidgeting with the hem of his jacket, his gaze flickering between the ground and me. I had always admired Tamaki from afar—the way he carried himself with quiet strength, his incredible quirk, and his humble nature. But seeing him like this, so clearly nervous, made me curious.

"Hey, Tamaki," I greeted with a smile, trying to ease whatever was on his mind.

He looked up at me, his cheeks tinged with a light blush. "H-Hey, Y/N," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

I patted the empty spot next to me, inviting him to sit down. He hesitated for a moment before slowly lowering himself onto the bench, keeping a respectful distance. There was a moment of awkward silence as he seemed to gather his thoughts. I could tell something was bothering him, so I decided to gently nudge him.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, trying to catch his eyes.

He nodded quickly but then shook his head, as if he couldn’t decide which was the right answer. "I…I wanted to ask you something," he finally said, his voice so soft that I had to lean in a bit to hear him properly.

My heart skipped a beat. Tamaki was notoriously shy, so whatever he was about to say must have taken a lot of courage. I kept my expression calm, not wanting to add any pressure. "You can ask me anything, Tamaki."

He took a deep breath, his hands clenching and unclenching in his lap. "I…I was wondering…if maybe…if you would want to go out with me…sometime?" His words tumbled out in a rush, and he immediately looked away, as if bracing himself for my response. koji koda

I was standing by the school's entrance, waiting for the bell to ring, when I noticed Koji Koda quietly approaching. He always seemed so gentle, like he belonged more in a field of flowers than in a class of future heroes. Despite his large frame, he had a calming presence, and his love for animals was something I admired.

He hesitated a few steps away from me, his hands fidgeting nervously. I smiled at him, trying to put him at ease. "Hey, Koji. What's up?"

His face turned a soft shade of pink as he glanced at me, then quickly looked away, his eyes focusing on the ground. He took a deep breath and fiddled with his fingers "hiy/nwouldyouliketograblunchwithme?" he squeaked Fumikagi Tokoyami

One afternoon, I found myself alone in one of the quieter hallways at U.A. High. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows along the walls. I was lost in thought when I noticed a familiar dark figure approaching.

"Y/N," Tokoyami's deep voice called out, breaking the silence. I turned to face him, surprised to see him standing so close. Dark Shadow hovered beside him, a curious glint in its eyes.

"Hey, toko..hi dark shadow" I greeted, trying to keep my voice steady. There was always something about his presence that made me a little nervous, in a good way.

He hesitated for a moment, his sharp gaze dropping to the floor before meeting mine again. "There's something I...we..mneed to ask you."

I felt my heart skip a beat. "Sure, what is it?"

"I… find myself drawn to your presence, like a moth to the flame," he began, his words measured and deliberate. "You bring a lightness that contrasts with the shadows that often surround me. I… admire that."

My cheeks flushed at his words. I had never heard him speak so openly before. "Thank you, Tokoyami. That means a lot."

Dark Shadow nudged him playfully, causing Tokoyami to huff in mild annoyance. "What I'm trying to say is… would you be interested in going out with me? Perhaps, to explore the darkness together?" mezo shoji

The day had been unusually quiet, the kind of quiet that makes you feel like something unexpected is bound to happen. I was packing up my things after class, lost in my thoughts, when I noticed Mezo Shoji standing a few feet away from me. He’s always been a bit of a mystery, with his calm demeanor and the way he hides his emotions behind that mask of his. But today, there was something different about him.

“Hey, Y/N,” Shoji’s voice came out slightly muffled, but still gentle. I looked up, meeting his gaze—or at least what I could see of it. His eyes were focused on me, a certain determination in them that I wasn’t used to seeing.

“Hey, Shoji. What’s up?” I asked, curious. He wasn’t the type to strike up random conversations, so I knew this had to be important.

He hesitated for a moment, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His tentacle arms twitched slightly, as if he was trying to decide what to do with them. Finally, he let out a soft sigh, gathering his courage. “I was wondering… if you’d like to hang out sometime. Just the two of us.” hanta sero

It was a typical afternoon at U.A. High, and I was making my way down the hall when I noticed Hanta Sero leaning casually against a locker. His usual laid-back smile was in place, but there was something different in his eyes—like he was up to something. I raised an eyebrow as I approached.

“Hey, Sero,” I greeted him, trying to keep my voice casual. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” he said, pushing off the locker and standing up straight. “I was hoping I’d run into you.”

I chuckled. “Well, you found me. What’s on your mind?”

Sero scratched the back of his neck, looking slightly nervous, which was rare for him. “So, there’s this new café that opened up downtown. They’re supposed to have some killer sweets, and I know you’re into that stuff…”

My heart skipped a beat as I realized where this might be going. “Yeah, I do have a bit of a sweet tooth,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Right, so I was thinking…” He paused, glancing away for a moment before locking eyes with me again. “Would you want to check it out with me? Like, this weekend? Just the two of us?” tenya iida

The bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, and I gathered my things, ready to head home. As I reached the door of the classroom, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I saw Tenya Iida standing there, his usual serious expression slightly softened.

"Y/N," he began, adjusting his glasses with that characteristic sharp motion. "Could I have a moment of your time?"

"Sure, what's up?" I asked, curious about what could be on his mind.

He hesitated for a second, something I wasn't used to seeing from him. Tenya was always so confident, so decisive. But now, it seemed like he was carefully choosing his words. "I wanted to speak with you about something important," he said, his voice steady despite the nervousness I could sense beneath it.

I nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"I admire your dedication and the way you handle yourself in challenging situations," he said, his tone sincere. "You have a sense of responsibility that I respect greatly. Because of this, I’ve been thinking… perhaps we could spend more time together, outside of our usual school activities."

My heart skipped a beat as his words sank in. "Are you… asking me out, Tenya?" I asked, feeling a mix of surprise and excitement.

"Yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing," he confirmed, a small but determind smile appearing on his face. "I believe we could be a good match, and I’d like to get to know you better. What do you think?"

Yuga Aoyama

I was heading back to the dorms when I noticed a familiar sparkle out of the corner of my eye. Yuga Aoyama was standing by the fountain, his usual confident smile in place, and something about the way he was looking at me made my heart skip a beat.

"Ah, mon ami!" he called out, waving dramatically. "You shine as brightly as the sun today!"

I couldn’t help but smile at his usual flair. "Hey, Aoyama. What’s up?"

He sauntered over, hands behind his back, clearly hiding something. His eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and nervousness, which was unusual for him. "I’ve been meaning to ask you something, something très important."

My curiosity piqued. "What is it?"

With a flourish, Aoyama revealed a small, beautifully wrapped box from behind his back. "For you, mon étoile," he said, presenting it to me with a dazzling grin.

I took the box, feeling a little flustered. "What’s this for?"

"Open it and see," he encouraged, his eyes never leaving mine.

I carefully unwrapped the box, revealing a delicate silver necklace with a tiny star charm. It was simple yet elegant, just like him. My breath caught as I looked up at him, trying to process what this meant.

"Aoyama… it’s beautiful. But why…?"

He took a step closer, his usual bravado softened by a sincerity I hadn’t seen before. "Because, my dear, I think you and I… we could make the most magnifique couple. You bring light into my life, and I wish to do the same for you. Would you do me the honor of going out with me?" Hitoshi Shinso

I tried to ignore the way my heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. Shinsou and I had become closer over the past few months, sharing late-night study sessions and quiet conversations about everything and nothing. Still, I couldn't quite decipher the look in his eyes whenever he caught me staring. Was it curiosity? Or something more?

“Hey,” he said, pushing himself off the wall and walking toward me. His voice, low and smooth, sent a shiver down my spine. “Got a minute?”

“Of course,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady as I smiled up at him. “What’s up?”

Shinsou hesitated, his usual confident demeanor faltering for a moment as he scratched the back of his neck. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he began, his eyes locking onto mine. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, actually.”

I felt my breath catch, anticipation and nerves swirling in my chest. “What is it?”

He took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving mine. “Would you… like to go out with me sometime? Just the two of us?” mirio togata

I couldn't help but notice how bright the day seemed when Mirio Togata approached me after training. His ever-present smile made the sun seem a little less important, and I couldn't help but smile back as he waved enthusiastically.

"Hey there!" Mirio greeted me, his voice full of energy as usual. "How’s training been for you?"

I laughed a little, brushing some sweat off my forehead. "Tough, but you know how it is. How about you? Still making it look easy?"

Mirio chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I try, but you know, it’s not always as easy as it looks." There was a brief pause before he continued, his tone softening just a bit. "Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you something."

I blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in his tone. "Yeah? What is it?"

Mirio took a deep breath, his smile never fading but his eyes showing a hint of nervousness. "I was wondering… would you like to go out with me sometime? Like, on a date?"

For a moment, I could hardly believe what I was hearing. Mirio, the ever-positive, ever-smiling hero, was asking me out? My heart skipped a beat, and I could feel my face heating up. "A date?" I repeated, just to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

He nodded, still smiling but now with a bit of that famous Mirio determination. "Yeah, I really like spending time with you, and I thought… well, maybe you’d like to spend some more time together, outside of training." mineta my love <3333

I was walking through the halls of U.A., trying to shake off the exhaustion of the day's training. Just as I turned the corner, I nearly bumped into Minoru Mineta. His eyes widened when he saw me, and a mischievous grin crept onto his face. I knew that look all too well.

"Hey, Y/N~" he said, his voice laced with that familiar lisp. "I've been wanting to, uh, athk you thomething for a while now."

I raised an eyebrow, half-expecting whatever he had to say to be one of his usual pervy comments. "What is it, Mineta?"

He took a step closer, his small stature making him seem less threatening and more…well, awkward. "You know, you're, like, really hot," he started, his eyes shamelessly wandering up and down. "And I think we'd make a thuper cute couple. Tho, how about you go out with me, huh?" ew...

[sharksnshakes]

Night Out - Tim Drake

image source: batboyblog on tumblr

When out at a dive bar with your friends, you step outside for a breath of fresh air and run into the Red Robin. For some reason, he seems... familiar?

AN; writers block is brutal and disgusting and horrible. also. i am suffering from batfamily brainrot so expect more of this (part two can be found here!)

Wordcount; 787

TW; some cursing, mentions of drinking

It's a damp spring night when you meet the Red Robin. You're out with your friends at some college dive bar on the East Side. The area's a far cry from Gotham U's campus, but with free entry and cheap drinks, it's worth the elevated risk of mugging.

"Besides," one of your friends had declared on the way to the bar, "It just means we're more likely to see Nightwing's hot ass."

You're pretty sure the dark-haired vigilante operates exclusively in Bludhaven these days, but you're not a party pooper.

The music was good, the crowd was fun, but a small room of drunk co-eds had a way of heating up quicker than Firefly's flamethrower, and so you'd retreated out the side door for a breath of fresh air. You weren't stupid; you'd taken your small can of mace with you. This was Gotham, after all.

The alleyway was blissfully empty, save for a dumpster--quite the relief, seeing as the last time you'd been here, you'd stumbled upon a couple deep in the throes of a heated make out session. Taking a breath, you leaned up against the cool bricks in the alleyway and let yourself decompress.

"There's definitely better places to hang out around here than dark alleys," a voice says from somewhere behind you.

Living in the city has taught you many things. Most importantly, how to turn off potential predators by acting downright crazier than they do.

You spin on your heel and hold the mace like it's a pistol, coming face-to-face with none other than--

"Holy shit, you're Robin," you gasp, eyes widening.

Thank god you didn't actually mace him.

"That I am," he says, warily eyeing the can in your hand.

"Like... the Red Robin," you continue. You're blinking at him, openly gaping, and it occurs to you that you should probably stop pointing the can at his eyes. You stow the makeshift weapon in your back pocket. "I'm so sorry! I thought you were a mugger or something!"

"Hey, it's fine," he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "If it's any consolation, you definitely would've scared the shit out of a mugger."

You laugh, but it's mostly in disbelief. Red Robin is standing mere feet away from you, domino mask and yellow cloak and green pants and all, and you're suddenly very thankful you'd gotten dressed up to go out tonight. For a split second, you swear you see him give you a quick once over. But no, there's no way Robin's checking you out.

He glances around the alleyway for a moment, almost awkwardly, before speaking again. "...Any reason you're out here?"

"I'm out with my friends," you say, motioning to the building behind you, where the bar's logo is printed in peeling white vinyl. "Needed some air. Somehow, smoke and asthma don't make a good combination," you joke.

"Can't imagine why," he grins, and holy shit Red Robin thinks you're funny.

"You got any fun, exciting plans tonight?"

He hesitates.

"Wait, you don't have to answer. I know, top secret Batman stuff--"

"Nah, not that secret." It's dark in the alleyway so maybe you're not seeing things right, but you swear you can see a hint of color rising to his cheeks. "Just patrolling. Y'know. Keeping an eye out for muggers and mace-wielding asthmatics."

You laugh. "Sounds boring."

"Definitely could use a drink." He glances at the side door with an unreadable expression.

"Rough start to the night?"

"You could say that."

A brief silence stretches between the two of you. Traffic and the faint pounding of the bar's music fill the space, and for some reason, despite never having met Robin and likely never meeting him again, it feels... almost familiar.

"Hey, if it makes you feel any better, you're not the only one stuck at work tonight. One of my best friends, Tim, had to bail last minute since he's got an exam to study for. So, like, you're not suffering alone!" you add, thinking back to the guy you've kind of been maybe having romantic feelings for lately.

Robin chokes.

"Shit, you okay? Need me to, like, slap you on the back or something?"

"Nope," he says, voice raspy.

"You're sure?"

"Positive." He gives you an awkward thumbs-up.

"I should probably let you get back to work, then," you sigh, turning back to the side door and grasping the handle. "And I should get back in there. Don't need my friends worried about me."

When you turn back around, it's just you and the dumpster.

"Fuckin' impressive," you mutter to nobody but yourself. "See ya, Robin."

You step back inside. The door closes behind you and... fuck.

You forgot to ask for a picture.

[sukunasbow]

sfw hcs, the specialists.

summary: the specialists and sfw hcs!

warnings: fairy!reader and not fully proof read yet!

notes: i know winx probably doesn’t have much of a fandom on here but honestly this show gives me so much nostalgia so enjoy!

sky ✿

sky spoils you so much, he treats you like a princess, which is ironic considering he’s a prince.

to him, you’re his world, he’d never do anything to hurt you and he loves you so much.

sometimes, when the two of you are relaxing together, he lets you style his slightly long hair.

speaking of relaxing together, that’s one of his favourite dates, when the two of you just spend time at a cafe, getting a break from the chaotic fairy and specialist duties you usually deal with.

brandon ✿

you were one of the few people to first know that sky and brandon switched names. brandon wanted to be completely honest about the switch and you understood due to sky’s feelings about wanting to try a normal lifestyle.

literally the sweetest boyfriend ever, he treats you so good. he’s so gentle and loving with you, your heart melts every time you’re with him.

he doesn’t get jealous that often and neither do you, the two of you trust each other and have a relationship that’s really built on honesty and loyalty.

riven ✿

no one would’ve thought the two of you would get together, as riven has a high temper and you pretty much have no temper, always calm and relaxed. in fact, the only people that suspected something was going on with the two of you were bloom and sky, they always took notice of the flirty comments and subtle touches between the two of you. however, ever since you’ve announced your relationship with the hotheaded specialist, you’ve been extremely happy with him, and your friends started relaxing exactly how much sense the two of you make.

you’re a balanced couple that occasionally has rough patches, as riven can get really jealous and insecure, but you guys always make it out and your love grows even more. riven loves you and never wants to make you feel less than appreciated.

his favourite date with you consists of literally anything that involves you two being near each other, but he especially loves when you and him help your friends defeat the newest villain. he also loves when you cuddle with him, as he’s really just a softie deep down, constantly wanting to be touching you. he’s a huge fan of pda, unless you’re uncomfortable with it.

helia ✿

you and helia go together so well, no one was surprised when the two of you made your relationship official. your both calm and loving people, quickly becoming one of the best couples out of your friend group.

you love his hair so much. he just lets you run your fingers through his hair and style it into stupid little ponytails and buns, the man not even complaining about it, actually secretly enjoying it.

he’s literally the best boyfriend. he is always at your side when you need comfort and he gives you all his love.

timmy ✿

it took a while for timmy to build up the courage to ask you out, but once he did, you happily said yes.

the two of you are the definition of ‘opposites attract.’ you’re outgoing and a social butterfly, compared to timmy, who’s shy and doesn’t talk to many people aside from his friends.

he isn’t a big fan of pda, but behind closed doors, he’s always wanting to be close to you.

[moon-cakiie]

💋🐺

Bonus:

A/n: Pavia's hair is hard to draw, it took me a while to finish redo his hair ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

[ivymonkshood]

A literal mess

— Miguel loses himself when he reaches his limits, you're just happy to be part of it to see it all go down

Tw: Sex with no plot, husband and wife relationship, she/her pronouns for reader, Miguel is whiny and talkative, grab your translators 'cause i speak spanish.

— Ah.. No puedo más, no puedo más~

The words slip out of his mouth before his brain even registers them, the only thing that seemed meditated was the rough tugging at your hips to keep you pressed against his crotch and the sloppy bucking of his hips.

His forearms and forehead pressed against the bed's headboard , aware enough of the sharp talons scratching the wood to contain himself from doing something stupid.

As careful and self aware he could be right now it was only a matter of time for his brain to turn into putty and forget all about him not being just a regular human, fucking into you like some needy animal.

Tongue lolling out, red eyes rolled back, his sweaty frame hovering over you completely, sharp fangs that itched to bite and keep you still, he was a complete mess.

But the hottest thing about him going pussy drunk, lost in pleasure was that he couldn't shut up.

Going from quiet moans and manly groans to a soft voice, sweet and whiny gasps and all that he felt like saying in his blissful state of mind.

He spoke Spanish regularly, at work, in the comfort of your house doing domestic chores and/or nothing but it became worse (better) when in bed.

— What's wrong, Papi? Cumming already?

You kept feeding onto it.

"What else can he say?"

"How far can it go?"

"How much can i ruin him?"

"Is it possible for him to get louder?"

He moans at the pet name, a hot shock climbing up his spine. He was going to regret the day he taught you those words. His thighs shake under yours, he was no longer pushing his cock into you, opting to calm down a few seconds, it was too early for him to cum, he was too sensitive.

— N- no morena, just catching my breath. Eso es todo...

— You sure? We can tap out, if you'd li-

His talons grip your body, one hand on your waist and the other around your ankle, slamming you fully on his dick. If the air hadn't been knocked out of your lungs, the most loud and meant-to-be-in-a-pornographic-film scream would have left your throat.

— Aquí... Me quiero quedar aquí, like this between your legs.

His hips stutter before moving again and he loses it, once again.

Your ears are filled with the mushy sound of his dick rearranging your insides and the loud, whiny praises that he sings with his head hidden in the space between your shoulder and neck. Miguel pushes his body upwards, changing the position and now your knees are centimeters away from touching your forehead.

—Ay, espérate Miguel-!

You whine and tap his thigh rapidly in protest but he's so lost your voice sounds distant. You give up, holding your thighs open and letting your knees rest next to your head.

His eyes are closed shut, the insatiable slamming of his hips against your ass was the only thing keeping him dozing out. He pants your name, exhausted but not giving in until you're ruining the bed sheets with your love juice.

— You're a mess, Migi~

You say but you're both panting, moaning and sweaty all over each other. He chuckles.

— Si? Qué más? Te gusta que me esté desmoronando así encima de ti? Eres una maldita pervertida, dime si me equivoco~

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your pussy squeezes around his dick greedily and you hear him lose his breath.

— Pervertida? Yo? Look at you, Migi!

His thrusts become sloppier, fat cock twitching inside you and you squeeze his forearm that rests on the bed next to you.

— I'm not denying it, imposible que lo haga cuando se siente tan rico y mi esposa se ve... Tan bonita~

His left eye twitches and his nose scrunches when his balls start emptying in you, a loud round of Si, si, si and me vengo, Morena! leaving his lips.

He talks you through it, watching your face contour in pleasure and he feels like cumming for a second time when your gummy walls squeeze him so harshly and your pussy gushes all over him.

He pulls his dick out when it stops throbbing painfully and he goes back to his senses but all he has the energy for is to lay next to you and pull your body closer.

— I didn't hurt you, did I?

His eyebrows twitching when he asks, still not in full control of his body. You whine.

— Aww, is it over? No more spanish?

He laughs, pinching your hip lovingly and giving you a quick peck as he falls asleep.

— Vete a dormir, Mami.

[cherryspence]

i think we need to start the babygirlification of derek morgan

[anifever]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡ “ d’you like this outfit, steve? ”

“ yeah, do a lil’ spin for me doll. ” ₊˚⊹♡.

[deathc-re]

crocodile is a busy man. he's a busy man with a lot of things that take his attention. so he can't just give it all to you, his needy, needy baby. that being said, he's still fairly good at multitasking, so that's why you're here with him, in his office, sat on the floor under his desk with your legs spread.

in one hand, he holds a pen, signing away at documents and making sure contracts meet all his needs. in the other, your hair as he guides you up and down his length. with your panties pushed to the side, you play with yourself, fingers wet and glistening from your own juices. with your noises filling the large office space and you hope it'll be enough to get him to give you his full attention, but it isn't.

he continues with his paper work, only giving a meek thrust into your throat ever once in a while, reminding you to hollow out your cheeks more.

only when you remove your fingers from yourself and bring them to his balls is when you get a proper reaction from him. he groans and grips your hair tighter, rolling his chair back a bit to take a look at you under the table. cigar in his mouth, he smirks at you.

"are you that fuckin desperate? huh?"

you blink up at him and the glint in your eye makes him twitch in your mouth. fingers still working at his sacks, a shiver goes down his spine and finally he puts the pen down.

"you better not go askin me to stop anytime soon, cause you asked for it."

[ghost-proofbaby]

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

two years ago, eddie munson got everything he’d ever wanted - except you. when fate brings the two of you back together, can he get the answers to all the questions you left him with?

☆ tropes: second chance romance, exes to lovers, modern au

☆ warnings: strong language, angst, alcohol/drug consumption, eventual smut, minors dni

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

spotify playlist

ao3

MASTERLIST:

PROLOGUE (the original 'one shot')*

CHAPTER ONE: CLOSURE

CHAPTER TWO: DON’T YOU

CHAPTER THREE: ALL TOO WELL

CHAPTER FOUR: CASTLES CRUMBLING

CHAPTER FIVE: HOLY GROUND

CHAPTER SIX: IS IT OVER NOW?

CHAPTER SEVEN: QUESTION...?

CHAPTER EIGHT: LOML*

CHAPTER NINE: BACK TO DECEMBER

CHAPTER TEN: RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

CHAPTER ELEVEN: LET'S GO (BATTLE)

CHAPTER TWELVE: OUT OF THE WOODS

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE SMALLEST (WO)MAN WHO EVER LIVED

more coming soon!

chapters with smut/sexual themes marked with *

[johnnie-guilberts-eyeliner]

Johnnie Guilbert NSFW Alphabet

(first time writing, lmk how I did and pls pls pls request some more for johnnie guilbert if you enjoyed because i think hes insanely under appreciated and deserves more written for him)

A=Aftercare (what they're like after)

Definitely big into after care and does whatever he can to take care of you after

B=Body part (Their favorite body part of their partners+their own)

Partner-thighs, they're plushy and he loves squeezing them and loves the way they look when they are wrapped around his head

Theirs-Hands, he loves what he can do with them and he loves how they look around your neck

C=Cum(Anything to do with cum)

He prefers finishing inside to avoid mess but would ultimately do whatever you wanted.

D=Dirty secret(Self explanatory)

He definitely gets off to pictures of you when you're not w him and he's feeling frisky (or if he's js to shy to tell you)

E=Experience(How experienced are they?)

not really at all, except for giving head.

F=Favorite Position(Self explanatory)

Cowgirl-He dies a little bit every time you ride him, he seriously can't get enough of it. Or any position where he can touch you while making eye contact with you

G=Goofy(Are they more goofy or serious during the act?)

Definitely depends on what you're comfortable with but will most likely be the type to make a joke or two and then be really serious after that yk

H=Hair(How well groomed? Does the carpet match the drapes?)

Doesn't really need to do much since he's a natural blonde but will maybe trim it up if he feels like it. Doesn't care if you have any, he agrees that if hair wasn't supposed to grow there, then it wouldn't.

I=Intimacy(How are they during? Romantic aspect ofc)

He is the touchiest mf there is. Loooooooves to touch and see his hands all over you and more verbal than you'd think

J=Jack off (Random Masturbation Headcannon)

As stated before, he definitely Jacks off to you when you aren't around and he's feeling rather frisky so maybe like 3-4 times a week at the most

K=Kink(1 or more of their kinks)

Switch-loves seeing you on top and in control but will take the reigns every now and then

Marking-Loooooves to see bite marks and hickies and such all over you and loves it more when you leave them on him

Hair pulling-loves when you tug on his hair while he fucks you/eats you out

L=Location (Favorite place to do the deed)

Prefers the bed but will eventually escalate to the shower or maybe even the couch when no one is home 😈

M=Motivation(What turns them on? What gets them going?)

Literally anything you do could get him going because he's so infatuated by you, and I think he may be a bit sexually frustrated 💀 but loves skirts, lacy lingerie and fishnets specifically

N=No(something off limits)

Anything that could hurt you or him

O=Oral(Giving and receiving preference, skill. Etc)

is a GOD at giving head. About the only thing he's really experienced with and IT SHOWS. Does like recieving but poor baby would be too shy to ask so you'll have to offer

P=Pace(Are they made rough/fast or slow/sensual or other)

Anything you prefer because he doesn't wanna hurt you or make you uncomfortable

Q=Quickie(Their opinion on quickies)

Doesn't care for them much at all, he likes to take his time and cherish the moment

R=Risk(Do they experiment? Do they take risks?)

Will experiment within his boundaries and your own

S=Stamina(How many rounds can they go? How long do they last?)

Can last about 3-4 rounds before he needs a minute, if you're not satisfied don't you worry because he'll give you so much head to make up for it

T=Toys(Do they own/use toys on their partner or themselves?)

Doesn't own them for himself but would be down to try them if you brought it to his attention

U=Unfair(How much do they like to tease?)

He doesn't start the teasing often because he's too shy but will do it back if you start teasing him

V=Volume(How loud they are, What they sound like)

Quite shameless when it comes to this intimate time with you, doesn't care who hears

W=Wild card (Random NSFW headcannon)

He secretly loves to fuck you until he can see your eyes rolling into the back of your head and loves fucking your mouth/throat but will only do so if you ask him to

X=Xray(size of his- basically)

6 inches soft and abt 8.5 inches hard

Y=Yearning(How high is their sex drive?)

Higher now bc of you

Z=ZZZ (How quick they fall asleep after?)

Prefers to cuddle after sex and loves falling asleep like that, he'll fall asleep after he knows your asleep

[amphitriteswife]

Queen

Jaegyeon na x reader

Standing on the central station of Incheon, you were busy reading the latest news. You were going to take the next train to Seoul which was in half an hour. Tapping your foot against the ground impatiently, you were reading the news article about Jichang kwak who ‘suddenly’ passed away. Scrolling through the article almost the 3rd time in the past few minuted you scanned the words. Nothing made sense at all. Jichang wasn’t a weak man, nor was he a careless man. So why would someone target him when he wasn’t even the king of Seoul anymore but of Chuncheong? A place that many did not care for at all? Thinking about it was terrifying. Not only did they know a lot about jichang as a gang member, but they were strong enough to kill him.

The harsh and loud scraping of the train gliding against the rails ringing in your ears, the sound of many people talking all felt a little overwhelming at the moment. But what was there to do? It was strange. Everything seemed out of place. Jichang was a honorable man even if you didn’t often cross paths. He was respectful and did care more for his family than for the greed of taking over the territory of the other kings of the 1st generation. It was just so heartbreaking for a man who was finally making a turn for his life. Even if he was a gang member. He was still a man who cared a lot for his brother. Hell he even cared a lot for the other kings such as Seongji.

‘I thought we agreed you wouldn’t show your face in this place again?’ A man with a blonde dyed mullet and black roots asked you. He wore rather fashionable clothing and a chain around his neck. He looked like a kpop idol…you almost mistook him for DG but with another style..not that you’d say it out loud.

The man waved in front of your face. Seemingly to get you to pay attention. ‘Hellooo i asked you something Y/N’ the man said seeming a little irritated that you didn’t answer his question. Strange. He knew your name. Yet you didn’t know him, not at the top of your head. ‘Who are you?’ You asked him back a little puzzled. The man seemed absolutely floored at your question, almost offended even. His face switched with irritation, from narrowed eyes and a scowl to dropping open his jaw and having wide eyes. ‘It’s me! The king of Incheon!’ The man said pointing to his own face. ‘How could you ever forget my handsome face?’ He asked you back, offended at your lack of recognition for him. ‘….James?…’ you said slowly and hesitantly, recalling the events to meeting a red haired youngster you met a few years ago.

The man stopped moving, completely stunned by the name you just called him. He looked almost deeply hurt and on the verge of crying by which name you just called him before his face distorted in pure rage ‘JAEGYEON! JAEGYEON NA DAMMIT! HOW DARE YOU EVEN COMPARE ME TO THAT FUCKER!’ He said all in one go, catching his breath after followed by his composure. He ran a hand through his bangs and looked at you again all cocky and arrogant. ‘So..what is the former Queen of Incheon doing here? Trying to get back your title?’ He asked you in an almost mocking tone.

Realization dawned over you which made you laugh because of how you totally forgot him, and because of how much he changed. Physically then, mentally he was still the same. ‘Well, even if i was the former queen, i left that life style behind a long time ago. Why did you think you won anyway?’ Jaegyeon stiffened a little. Are you implying that you let him win? How humiliating…But he decided to play it off for now. ‘So..what are you doing here?’ He asked you a little hesitant but mixed with curiosity. ‘I’m going to Seoul, taking the train. Why?’ You asked him back. A little suspicious by the questioning which made him scoff. ‘I could drop you off myself. No need to take the train.’ Jaegyeon offered, sounding more cocky than kind. ‘No way, i’d rather take the train than be seen in that junk of yours.’ That seemed to piss him off as his face scrunched up in anger before he started insulting you, spewing all kinds of nonsense and walking away to his junk car. Muttering a soft ‘stupid girl’ under his breath, secretly hoping you’d hear him.

It was weird, since you two were around the same age. But then again, it’s not like you’d care if he said something like that to you. You just waved back and stepped into the train that had arrived in the mean time, leaving Jaegyeon alone with the weird interaction he just had with you. He couldn’t help but wonder when he’ll see you again and confess. If he’ll even have the balls to do so.

Thank you all for reading! 🙏