#you probably have to turn up your brightness for this drawing though

[angelbaby191]

Good Morning

Kirishima x Bakugo x Reader

Sunlight was streaming through the bedroom window, softened by the light gray curtains you’d pulled closed the night before, casting a gentle glow over the room. Katsuki let out a low groan, shifting beneath the covers as he squinted against the brightness, his hand rubbing at his eyes.

It took him a moment to register the warmth pressing against his side. Eijiro was curled up next to him, one arm slung around Katsuki’s waist, their legs tangled together beneath the blanket. For a second, Katsuki considered pushing him off—this wasn’t their usual sleeping position, after all—but the steady rise and fall of Eijiro’s breathing lulled him, making it easy to relax into the comfort of their shared warmth.

Eijiro stirred a moment later, his forehead pressing against Katsuki’s shoulder, a faint smile playing at his lips as he mumbled something unintelligible. His eyes fluttered open, and he let out a quiet laugh as he took in their position.

“Morning, Kat,” he muttered, his voice rough with sleep.

Katsuki scowled, though his heart wasn’t in it. “Don’t start with that cutesy morning crap.”

Eijiro just chuckled, though his hand gave Katsuki’s waist a little squeeze. “Whatever you say.” His gaze drifted to the bedside table, where two glasses of water sat waiting for them, already beaded with condensation. The sight made him smile, the thought of you anticipating their rough morning warming him from the inside.

Katsuki grabbed the glass, sitting up with a groan as he took a long drink. The water was cold, refreshing, and he could practically feel the relief washing over him with every sip. Eijiro reached for his own glass, mirroring him with a grateful sigh.

“You think they’re awake already?” Eijiro asked, glancing toward the door.

A faint clatter from the kitchen answered the question for him, and the two of them shared a knowing look. Even in the hazy aftermath of last night’s party, it didn’t surprise either of them that you’d be up first, taking care of things. Katsuki couldn’t help the little smirk that tugged at his lips as he ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to tame it a bit.

“Guess we should get up,” he muttered, though there was a reluctance in his tone. It was rare for them to have a lazy morning like this, waking up in a tangle of limbs and surrounded by the warmth of each other.

Eijiro grinned, stretching before throwing off the blankets. “Yeah, Angel’s probably making breakfast, too. You know they always spoil us after nights like these.”

They shuffled out of the bedroom, bleary-eyed but a little more awake, the scent of something warm and savory drawing them toward the kitchen. As they approached, the comforting aroma of your cooking filled the apartment—eggs, a hint of melted cheese, and something else that made Katsuki’s stomach rumble, despite his lingering hangover.

There you were, standing at the stove, dressed in one of Eijiro’s oversized hoodies, its sleeves rolled up to keep out of the way as you carefully stirred a pan of scrambled eggs. A plate of toast was already stacked on the counter, along with two mugs of coffee waiting beside it.

Eijiro leaned against the doorframe, a fond smile on his face as he watched you. “Morning, Angel,” he called softly.

You turned to look at them, smiling as they walked in, your eyes taking in their rumpled, sleepy forms. “Morning, sleepyheads,” you teased, turning back to the stove. “I figured you’d need a little fuel after last night.”

Katsuki’s smirk was barely hidden as he stepped closer, grabbing one of the mugs and taking a sip. “You know us too well,” he muttered, the warmth of the coffee soothing his throat.

Eijiro reached for the plate of toast, nibbling on a piece as he came up beside you. “You didn’t have to do all this, you know,” he said, though the grateful tone in his voice was unmistakable. “We’d have survived.”

You rolled your eyes, giving him a playful nudge with your elbow. “Please. I know how you two get. Besides, I wanted to make sure you had everything you needed.”

Katsuki looked away, hiding the hint of a smile that tugged at his lips as he settled into a chair at the kitchen island. There was something grounding, comforting, in the way you just knew them, how you anticipated these little needs without being asked. Eijiro slid into the seat beside him, his usual brightness subdued but still warm as he bit into his toast.

“Anything we can help with?” Eijiro asked, though his tone suggested he was perfectly content just to sit there, watching you.

You shook your head, plating the scrambled eggs and passing the dishes over to them. “Just eat. That’s help enough.”

Katsuki let out a contented hum as he dug in, the warm, cheesy eggs a perfect cure for his pounding headache. Eijiro was quieter than usual, his gaze drifting between you and Katsuki, a soft look in his eyes as he took in the peacefulness of the morning.

For a few minutes, the kitchen was filled with the quiet sounds of breakfast—mugs clinking, the scrape of forks against plates, and the gentle hum of the city outside the window. It was simple, but there was something about the routine that felt deeply satisfying, like an unspoken promise of many more mornings like this.

As you sat down with your own coffee, Katsuki caught your eye, his expression surprisingly soft. “Thanks, Angel. For… you know, takin’ care of us.”

You waved off his gratitude, but the warmth in your smile gave you away. “Of course. I kind of like having you two around, after all.”

Eijiro’s hand found yours beneath the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Good. Because we’re not going anywhere.”

[freshgreenmilk]

hope and despair

-

[thevoidstaredback]

It's always graveyards. Why is it always graveyards? They're creepy as hell and, well... that's it. On the bright side, the Protection Spirits watching the gates recognize him and realize the danger he's in. Well, maybe he wasn't in real danger because the Bats and Birds don't really do the whole purposefully harming civilians things, but they are scary as hell! Chasing him down like a bat straight outta hell- obviously he was gonna run! They cornered him! Maybe he'll invest in getting them lessons in how to interact with people in and out of costume?

Honestly, Nightwing, Danny expected better of you. At least Red Hood and Signal know how to treat innocents.

Here's the thing about Protection and Guardian Spirits, though. They don't like intruders. If you're running from something and you don't have time to ask permission to enter, you best say "thank you" and bring them shiny things on your next visit. If you do have time to ask permission, you ask permission. If they think you're a threat or rude, they won't let you enter whatever they're guarding.

"Thank you," Danny said as he slowed to a walk further into the graveyard, the sound of the gates slamming closed behind him confirmation that the Bat and his gaggle wouldn't be following him in.

Wasting no time, Danny pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket. It was a handy little thing he'd picked up during his stay in the House of Mysteries. Draw and door, tell it where you wanna go, open it, and go through! Beetlejuice style. Though, unlike what the Handbook for the Recently Deceased says, these doors won't actually open a door to the afterlife. He fixed that tiny glitch a while ago.

Anyway, a quick few chalk lines on the side of a mausoleum later, and Danny was opening a door to Fawcett, Philadelphia. Probably not the best choice, considering that he was trying to stay away from the Justice League, but it's better than Metropolis.

"Whoa." Damn it! He should've stayed home. "What was that, mister?"

Danny made sure the door closed behind him, praying for strength. Why did he feel like several deities were laughing at him? "Hey, kid. Can you, um, maybe not say anything about that?"

The kid, short brown hair and a red jacket stood out the most to Danny for some reason, seemed very amused. "You're gonna have to buy my silence."

Again, Danny let out a quiet, long suffering sigh. "Coffee is so not worth it." Looking at the kid, he said, "Alright, fine. I was getting coffee anyway, I'll buy ya lunch. Know any good places?"

Grinning, the kid cheered, "Hell yeah! Follow me!"

Resigned, Danny followed after the kid, easily keeping pace. About a block later, he figured he should probably get the kid's name. "I'm Danny."

"Billy."

"No last name?"

"Fae rules, dude. What's your excuse?"

He had to give it to him. "Touché."

Another three blocks of walking, Billy finally stopped at a cafe. It was a quaint place with stained white brick and a dark grey roof. There were metal chairs and tables outside the building surrounded by a wrought iron fence. The table umbrellas and the awning over the black door were light blue, matching the curtains in the inside.

The inside walls were painted baby blue with a white ceiling and a pinewood floor. The tables and chairs were all stained black with light pink cushions and table cloths. The curtains, as observed before, were all baby blue, tied back with baby pink ribbons. The lights were barely yellow, giving the room a warm feel. The counters were white with black paneling on the outside and white granite as the tops.

"Welcome in," the young man at the register greeted with a smile, "What can I get you two started with today?"

Danny envied the man. He'd obviously not been doing this long enough to gain the veteran's shine to his eye. He turned to look at the menu after telling Billy to get whatever he wanted. A mistake he'll probably pay for. "I'd like a large Red Eye, equal parts coffee and espresso, with cinnamon, honey, chocolate syrup, mint, and vodka, please."

The 'newbie' light in the man's eyes dimmed a little bit. "Um, we don't carry vodka." Glad that's the only thing he's worried about. Priorities.

Danny clicked his tongue. "Oh, well, it was worth a shot. I'd like everything else, though, please. Mix it at your own discretion."

"Alright," he was very valiant to go back to grinning, "Anything else?"

Danny motioned for Billy and the kid stepped up. "Can I get a large mocha, three chocolate chip cookies, and two sandwiches?"

The blond entered the order. "Of course! That'll be $25.37." A quick card swipe from Danny. "Thank you very much, we'll have your order out to you soon!"

The two didn't say a word as they chose a table in the corner. Danny let Billy take the seat that was open to the rest of the cafe so he wouldn't feel cornered. He had a good view of the door, though, so he wasn't complaining.

"So, how'd you do that?" Billy asked after they'd gotten their orders.

"How'd I do what?" Danny sipped his drink.

"How'd you walk outta that wall? It's solid!"

"Magic."

"I guessed that much."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"Will you teach me?"

"No."

"You didn't even think about it!"

"Okay," He paused. "No."

"Not fair." he pouted.

Putting his drink on the table, Danny summed as much fake-it-till-you-make-it energy as he could. "Magic isn't a toy and takes years of practice to get a handle on, not to mention you have to actually have an aptitude for it before you can even try. Besides, I don't know you nearly well enough to trust you with anything else."

Billy finished the cookie he was eating. "I can do it! You just gotta teach me!"

Another sigh that Danny had stopped counting. "Look, you seem like a good kid, but I'm not gonna teach you magic."

"Why not!"

"However," he continued, ignoring the demand, "I'm not gonna leave ya fully defenselessness."

"What do you mean?" Billy backed away slightly, his eyes narrowing as he moved to be able to run quickly.

Another sip. "Based off of the dirt you're covered in, the grease in your hair, and the overall poor condition of your clothes, I'm gonna bet that you're a street kid. So," he pulled a small card from his pocket, very aware that Billy was watching his hand aptly, "I'm going to leave you with this."

Slowly, the brunet took it and turned it over. "What it is?"

The white card had the initials DP in the middle, circled by an Ouroboros. The initials were completely solid, but the snake of the Ouroboros was made up of tiny runes of protection and health and healing and good fortune.

"My calling card. If you're ever in danger, hold that to your chest and ask for help. I'll be there."

Still obviously suspicious, Billy took a moment to scrutinize the card. It was cute to watch the kid act like he knew what he was looking at or for. When he seemed satisfied, he shoved the card into the inner pocket sewn into his jacket. "Thanks."

"No problem, kid," Pulling out his phone, Danny saw the time and stood, "I've gotta go now. I assume I've sufficiently bought your silence on the whole magic thing?"

Billy grinned, "I guess, but you gotta come visit me, okay?"

He chuckled, "Sure thing. See ya."

Part 2 Part 4

(I don't drink coffee, so Idk how that shit works)

Tag list: @zaiothe4th

[moonstruckme]

Would you pls write a tattoo artist Sirius x fem reader where it’s her first time getting a tattoo and she’s really nervous but he’s really hot idk sorry totally fine if not !!💗

Thanks for requesting <3

cw: mention of needle

modern au

tattoo artist!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

A bell rings as you enter the shop, and you cringe internally. It seems as though now you’re committed to being here. 

“Hi,” a blonde woman behind a desk greets you with a polite smile. “Do you have an appointment?” 

“Oh.” You hesitate, your footsteps stalling like you might back right out the door. “Um, no.” 

“That’s alright.” She waves you forward. “We have space for walk-ins today. I’ve got an appointment coming in a few, but go ahead and fill this out,” she slides a sheet of paper in front of you, “and Sirius will be out for you in a minute.” 

You take the pen she offers you with a terse smile, and even your name is hardly legible with the trembling in your fingers. Sirius, you think as you tick boxes while hardly looking at them. That’s a boy’s name. Isn’t it? You’re not sure how you feel about a boy doing your tattoo. You’d always pictured a cool, tatted-up girl with a throaty voice and a calming demeanor to set your nerves at ease. You’re tempted to ask this woman if you can just book an appointment with her for later, but when you look up she’s slipped behind the curtain to the back room. 

A few moments later, a different head pops out instead. 

“Hello,” this new man says, grinning whilst your stomach bottoms out. Fair skin, dark hair tied loosely behind his head, and tattoos from his neck going down as far as you can see before they disappear under the waist of his pants. His grin is sharp and welcoming at once, spreading over his fine features like it’s been well practiced. 

“Hi,” you manage. 

“You about done with that?” 

It takes him dropping his gaze to the paper under your hand before you realize what he’s talking about. 

“Oh.” You give a weak laugh, pushing it toward him. “Yeah.” 

“Beautiful.” He picks it up, looking it over briefly. “Ready to head back?”

You can feel your heartbeat in your mouth. “Mhm.” 

He holds the curtain open for you. You turn yourself a bit sideways to avoid brushing either him or the curtain as you go through, and he makes an amused face. 

“I’m Sirius,” he says, leading you towards the chairs in the back of the room. There’s music playing from a speaker in the corner, something quick and bass-heavy that’s probably meant to pump up more seasoned customers but makes your skin feel twitchy. Sirius gives you an expectant look. You blink in response. “And you are?”

“Oh, sorry.” You tell him your name. The syllables feel new and awkward on your tongue. 

Sirius tosses you another winsome smile. “No worries,” he reassures you, and you wonder if he gets this reaction a lot. If everyone feels this way around him, like having his full attention directed at you is a little intoxicating and a lot overwhelming. “Is this your first tattoo?” 

“Yeah.” You sit in the chair he gestures to. “How’d you know?” 

He chuckles, the sound sharp and bright. “You’re a tad jumpy, love.” You feel heat rush to your face, but then Sirius gives your calf a little pat and it all goes there instead. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you. You usually have problems with needles?” 

“Not really.” You squirm a little, making sure your skirt isn’t riding up your thighs. “I just don’t have any idea how badly it’ll hurt.” 

“Oh, it’s not too bad usually. Do you have an idea of what you want?” 

“Um, yeah.” You get out your phone, showing him the picture you’d found. “Could you maybe do this, like, by my hip?” 

Sirius leans closer to see. “As little as that one?” You nod, and he grins. “Yeah, that’ll be easy! I can do that in five minutes, gorgeous, don’t you worry.” 

“Really?” you ask, hope inflating in your chest. 

“Yeah, let me just…” He turns around to a small desk, drawing a careful sketch before pulling on a pair of disposable gloves. “Alright, where do you want it?”

You pull down the waistband of your skirt, pointing to the bit of skin where your hip turns into your stomach. You hold your breath as he presses the paper to your skin. When he peels it back up, the design stays. 

“Like that?” 

Your reply comes out on an exhale, soft and a bit dizzy. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s perfect.” 

“Brilliant.” Sirius looks down at his work, then back up at you. You can’t decide which makes your stomach hurt worse. “Then I think we’re ready to get started. You alright?” 

You ignore the tingly feeling in your fingertips and force yourself to answer before you can think too hard. “Yeah.” 

Sirius looks like he can tell you’re faking it, but he blazes forward anyway, giving you a reassuring smile. “Great, just lie back for me. Like that, yeah. Cool if I roll the top of your skirt down so it doesn’t get in our way?”

You nod. He’s careful and professional as he takes the waistband of your skirt, folding it over itself until it sits beneath your hips, but still a gloved knuckle brushes up against the skin of your lower abdomen. Your heart hiccups.

“Okay, love, here’s what we’re going to do.” You look up to find Sirius’ eyes already waiting for yours. They’re lighter than you’d thought from a distance, a grayish blue like the ocean during a storm. His one hand is resting on the temporary tattoo, and you wonder if he can feel your heartbeat bumping through your skin. You certainly can. “I’m going to touch the machine to you for just a second so you know how it feels, and then I’ll take it off. Sound good?” 

You nod again, bracing yourself. “Okay.” 

“Alright.” 

The machine buzzes to life, and it’s an effort not to flinch. You press your lips together in case you make a sound. Sirius’ brow pinches concentratedly as he touches the needle to the stencil he’s made on your skin. It’s over before you can process it. 

“How was that?” he asks you.

You look up at him in surprise. “Fine,” you say honestly. It stung, but not nearly as bad as you’d expected, and only for as long as he was touching the needle to you. 

“Beautiful.” Sirius seems as relieved as you are, his grin flashing canines. “In that case, you’re golden. Just sit pretty for me, yeah?”

You feel like he has to be intentionally flustering you now, but you don’t have time to dwell upon it before he sets back to work. The sting really is negligible, especially with Sirius’ fingers pressing into your skin to steady his touch and his elbow resting lightly against your thigh. You feel hot in all sorts of places. 

Those gray-blue eyes flicker up to check on you when he pauses every now and then. “You’re amazing,” he praises. “Doing so well, love.” 

It doesn’t help.

[thumblemina]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ content warnings: 18+ smut, mdni, fem! reader, fïngering, dirty talk, praise

✧˚ · . word count: 940

even if he can warp time and space at the snap of his fingers, silence and SATORU GOJO are never in the same room for long.

it’s when you’re tucked under his arm, nestled on the couch, and your eyes have been following the same line in your book again and again. he’s aimlessly scrolling on his phone next to you, and even though his eyes are blocked by those solid, round glasses, you know that it’s worse that he’s probably not even doing it on purpose. he’s completely eviscerated any attention span you could have and he doesn’t even know.

it’s effortless in the way most things are with him.

so you narrow your eyes on the words once again, forcefully shifting from letter to letter, and you’re almost two sentences in before he does it again.

he swallows.

and it's ridiculous. it’s obscene how something so simple as a swallow immediately shuts down any working faculty in your mind. you feel it. it echoes in your own body, down your own spine, between your clenched thighs.

something about the way that your head is so close to the column of his throat, your head rising and falling softly with his breath, that godforsaken swallow is ringing in your ears. the sound of him drawing the spit to the back of his throat, pushing it down, releasing that hot little breath. you’re almost panting. he’s not even trying and it’s irrationally pornographic.

and when you glance up, feeling your chest tighten, he reacts to your movement. but he just smiles, presses a kiss to your forehead, unknowing. you swallow your own spit, but it’s not the same.

saliva pools in your mouth and you want him to swallow it for you.

and it’s also when you’re standing by the kitchen counter, whisking together morning eggs in a small bowl with your chopsticks. gojo’s padding in behind you, but it’s not his footsteps that draw you away. his movements are silent, trained. it’s the fucking humming.

and it’s the way that it’s low, almost a touch rough, still saturated with the sleep he’s just woken up from. it rumbles in the base of his throat. something masculine you can’t describe. it’s not anything specific, but it’s fucking indecent.

even with your back turned, something about the sound feels like it’s crawling over your skin, heating your cheeks, completely unravelling any sanity you ever thought you had.

after being with him for so long, the one thing you’ve learned is that in may actually be impossible for gojo to be quiet.

which is why it’s no surprise that when he’s got you pressed up against the headboard, folded with your shins resting against his chest, he can’t keep his fucking mouth shut.

“fuck, you hear that, baby?” he asks, as if you could even comprehend anything else. he’s bullying two of his thick fingers into you, bright blue eyes intently following them right between your folds in a way that makes you squirm. “you’re so loud for me, and just for me, right? you’re such a fucking mess already.”

a whine builds in your throat, and you all you can muster is a pathetic nod. he’s curling his fingers so deep inside of you, pressing into places you can never reach, and the lewd noises he’s creating between your thighs only flusters you more. your face burns as you hear the wet slick against his skin. and as if it wasn’t enough, he pulls back, and a thick glob of spit travels from his kiss-bitten lips to your clit.

you almost scream.

“what was that, baby? speak up, i need to hear you.”

you can barely catch your breath when he smirks down at you, and then plunges his fingers deeper again. it all feels so impossible, tight and stretched and insane, you’re scrambling to catch a grip on the bedsheets.

“‘toru, i, i- nngh,” you babble, mind delirious, eyes squeezing shut. he brushes against that spongy spot he’s always so good at finding, and you keen.

everything in the room, his mocking laugh, your soaked thighs, your sharp gasps - it’s deafening.

“i know, baby, i know,” he whispers, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “you’re taking it so good, yeah? you’re being such a good girl for me.”

his thumb brushes over your clit, and stars burst behind your eyes. a desperate noise you’d never admit to, garbled and pathetic, leaves your mouth as you reach to pull him closer. you’re throbbing now.

“oh, is that good, baby? more of that?”

when you open your eyes, you’re almost knocked out at the sight of him leaning down over you, white locks falling into those illegally blue eyes. his pupils are blown out. you shiver.

you open your mouth, but as soon as you do, he curls those sinful fingers again and all you can get out is a choked moan. instead, you nod, trying to chase both the swelling, building feeling and his touch.

“c’mon, use your words,” he teases, and his grin only widens when you try to shoot him a pouty look. “only obedient girls get to cum, so you’ll use that pretty voice for me, yeah?”

the pad of his thumb is pressing down, circling your clit, and you gasp. “nngh, please - ‘toru please, more, i need more-”

in reward, gojo leans in and captures your mouth with his own, sloppy in the way that he licks past your lips. you sob in relief, returning back with just as much fervor as his hand picks up the pace. and then it’s just white, and then it's just him.

and you’d listen for a lifetime.

╰┈➤ a/n: can someone pls humour me and say that they’ve also felt turned on by hearing someone literally just swallow before and i’m not a freak (for that specifically at least) thank you (also as my first time posting T/T pls be nice)

[animeyanderelover]

@lucyrose9820 asked: A scenario where Obito, Itachi, Tomura, Dabi, Shoto, Ulquiorra are sleeping and their beloved caresses their faces?

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional mindset, clinginess, abduction, isolation

Tags: @shumidehiro @swagenemyartisan

Caressing their face while they sleep

Obito Uchiha

🔥​You'd be mistaken to think that a healthy sleep is something Obito is familiar with even if your presence provides enough comfort for him to doze off for a while though he still finds himself waking up multiple times a night. His sleep is very light to begin with so it is very likely that he will be either already be awake by the point you caress his face or will wake up as soon as he feels your touch as he is always very aware of any touches you give him. His heart is pounding and he feels a fuzzy euphoria swirling around inside of him as your love washes over him like soft summer rain. This is the bliss that he has always longed to have with the person he loves and especially if you have been someone who has been up to that point scared of him you'd turn a bright fire of delusional thinking into a raging inferno. His fingers instantly wrap around your wrist as soon as you pull away from his face, keeping your warm palm on his cheek as he opens his eye to look at you., asking you to do it again.

Itachi Uchiha

🍡​Sharing a bed with you is a new development in your lives and even if he can tell himself that you have made this decision based on your own account, he can't stop thinking that the isolation ever since your abduction has probably led you to crave his presence as he's the only human interaction you have left. Itachi has a light sleep himself and needs a long time to fall asleep but he enjoys it listening to your own steady breaths as you slip into dreams. He'd pretend to be asleep as soon as he feels your fingers stroking his face, waiting to see if you'll do anything else. For the split of a second he does feel happiness as it is one of the first signs of affection that you have given him since you requested to share a bed with him. It all is quickly drowned out by guilty awareness though as he questions how genuine your affection is and how much was influenced by the months of isolation. You'll never know that he was awake as he won't talk about it even the next day, a memory he will keep to himself.

Shoto Todoroki

🔥​❄️​Shoto's mostly delusional behavior has led you to share a bed with him from a very early point on. He's going to treat his lover better than his father did which is why he needs you to love him as much as he loves you and his delusional thoughts assist him to drown out any words and signs of protest from your isde even if awareness sometimes creeps in and destroys his view of himself. When he wakes up in the middle of the night though to feel your fingers brushing over his burnt mark, his delusions instantly latch on to your sign of affection. His burnt side has always been a reminder of what his father stole from him, a reminder of the day his childhood was taken away from him and his mother as well. To feel you caressing something that has always been connected to his loss of innocence and childhood with such loving touches makes him very emotional as his arms draw you closer to his chest, taking you by surprise. You finally love him, don't you?

Dabi

🔹​Dabi has stopped caring about anything which includes the people around him. How lame would it be to pretend to care for you just because you happen to be his obsession? If he wants you in bed with him, he'll have you in bed with him. Touya doesn't expect you to love him with the things he has done and he won't change for you either as this man you see in front of you is who he is now. He doesn't expect to wake up abruptly to feel you caressing his jaw and almost on reflex he grabs your wrist and yanks your hand away in a tight grip that has you let out a whimper of pain. Initially he almost doesn't seem to process that you were caressing his face out of affection as he stares at you, why would you with someone as shitty as him? After a while he lets go of your wrist though, unsure what to say to you. Ultimately he decides to close his eyes again with no apology, though he keeps on looking at you as if demanding you to do it again because he is too prideful to ask you for your touch.

Tomura Shigaraki

✋Whether we're considering his gremlin version or his more mature version, you'll end up forced to share a bed with him and especially a pre-Re-Destro Shigaraki would be very demanding of any touches which you will have to give him as his quirk would activate if he were to fully touch you. His reaction would differ depending on what Shigaraki we're going for in here. I'd feel like before remembering his past, Shigaraki would not fully realise just how significant it would be for you to touch him on your own accord without him having to force you. He'd just wake up, stare at you before going back to sleep again whilst mumbling that he wants you to continue what you're doing right now. A Shigaraki after regaining his memories would realise the implication that you have started gaining feelings for him when he senses your hands touching and stroking his face even though he didn't tell you to do so whilst pretending to stay asleep, worried that you'd stop if he were to open his eyes.

Ulquiorra Cifer

💚​I'm not even sure if an Arrancar actually needs sleep but even if they should, Ulquiorra still might as well be an insomniac. He doesn't require sleep like you would and you may think that this may mean that he'd leave you in peace yet it is this unnatural fascination he finds himself having with you that leads him to sometimes lay down with you all to observe you and grasp what it is he is feeling for you. So even if his eyes are closed, his mind is wide awake as he is merely copying what you are doing whenever you go to sleep. The sensation of warm hands on his cold skin is one of the things he is still not used to as the concept of physical affection is one of the many things he is still unfamiliar with. Green eyes glow in the darkness of the room as he gazes at you, startling you in the process as you quickly draw your hand back only for his own hand to grasp your wrist and hold it in place. The feeling was unfamiliar but not unwelcome yet he wants to know from you why you felt the need to touch his face in the first place.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Sick II

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You get sick again

Magda wakes up slowly.

She's not sure why she's waking up. Her alarm isn't going off. She doesn't need the toilet. The sun's still down so there's not any light coming through the curtains to either.

But, somehow, Magda's being ripped from her relaxing sleep.

She blinks awake blearily, already cursing in her head because there's an away match today and she really doesn't need to be awake earlier than she needs to.

There's a firm shove to her shoulder and Magda finally opens her eyes fully.

"Princesse?" Magda asks, rubbing her eyes," What's wrong? It's early."

"Sniffles, Morsa," You say. Your voice is all nasally and your face is bright red and practically dripping in sweat. You sniff as if to accentuate your point and wipe your snot away using Magda's pyjama top.

"You've got the sniffles?" Magda asks, still trying to wake up.

You nod miserably and Magda digs around in her bedside table for tissues to blow your nose out in.

She flicks the bedside lamp on to study you properly. It's probably a bit more than just the sniffles but Magda doesn't really want to tell you that.

It's awful timing really. You've got to get on a coach to Birmingham in a few hours and there's no way Magda can arrange childcare on such short notice or bow out of today's match either.

"Alright, Princesse," Magda says," Let's go into the bathroom and sort out your nose."

Magda turns the shower on and shuts the door, hopping that the steam will unblock your nose enough that it won't bother you on the trip up north.

Pernille wakes up soon after, helping to get you dressed and fed and drugs you up with kid's medicine to make the drive more bearable.

"Jessie!" You slur, nose still stuffed and head beginning to pound. It doesn't diminish your excitement though as you make Jessie lift you up and curl into her body.

Jessie frowns a little at the heat you're emanating, turning to look at Magda and Pernille with a question in her eyes.

"She's got a bit of a cold," Pernille says," I can take her if you want. There's no need for you to get sick too."

"I can take her," Jessie assures her quickly, adjusting her grip on you," Sick or not, we've got a nap scheduled."

"Jessie naps really good," You say through your stuffy nose, sniffling and wiping it with your shirt.

"Jessie's got a nap talent?" Morsa teases," Alright then. You nap with Jessie but if you feel bad, you have to come and tell me and Momma, alright?"

"Okay."

It's routine for away games for you to sit with Jessie on the bus. She carries a blanket with her now and you completely crash out against her collarbone as she wraps you up and holds you nice and tight like you enjoy.

Usually, you're out the moment the bus starts moving. But, because of your stuffy nose and the throbbing in your head, you can't seem to settle.

You whine and even that comes out nasally. You shift in Jessie's arms. Tears prick in your eyes.

You're very tired. You woke up this morning very early because it was difficult to breathe through the stuffiness in your nose. You'd tossed and turned in bed for a while before finally going to wake up Morsa.

It's a similar thing now as you shift in Jessie's grip.

"It's okay," She says and her cold hands slip under your shirt. Her fingers feel good on your feverish skin and they draw absentminded patterns on your back.

You sigh softly against Jessie's neck.

Her motions are soft and repetitive and the temperature is just what you need.

Pernille peers behind her an hour into the journey, stopping what she was saying to Magda to look back at you and Jessie.

You still look a little flushed from where you're tucked in Jessie's neck but you look content. Jessie's neck is tilted at an awkward angle as her head rests on yours. Her arms are curled around you tightly and she doesn't seem to mind that your drippy nose is pressed up against her shirt.

Pernille takes a picture.

"That one's going in the album," She says to Magda as she turns back around," They're sweet."

"We should probably dose her up before we play," Magda says," We're both starting today and Jessie. Are we leaving her on the bench?"

"We'll have to," Pernille replies," She's not going to be doing any assistant coaching, that's for sure. Zećira is on the bench today. I'm sure she'll look after her."

You stay with Jessie all the way up to the start of the match. You're happy curled into her and don't even put up a fight when Momma and Morsa make you have more medicine.

It helps your headache but not really your stuffy nose so when you're handed off to Zećira, the first thing she does is make you blow it out into a tissue.

"What's that?" You ask as you sit on the bench with her and she brings out a little tub.

"This is Vicks," Zećira says as she lifts up the back of your shirt," It's a vaporub. It's going to help your breathing."

It's nice to know that Zećira's noticed that you're breathing is different. You have to breathe through your mouth now because your nose is all stuffy so it can't get a lot of air through it anymore.

Zećira lathers the weird smelling stuff all over your back and then turns you to put it on your chest too.

It's quite an overpowering smell but it's helping your breath easier so you'll allow it.

"Zećira," You say," When I'm older, will I stop getting sick?"

Zećira laughs a little. You're sitting between her legs as she pulls your hair back so it's out of your face properly. "Sorry," She says," But even adults get sick sometimes."

You shake your head then abruptly stop when it throbs in response. "No," You say," 'Cause I've never seen Momma and Morsa sick."

"They get sick," Zećira assures you," They just hide it better and they take medicine too."

You make a face. "Medicine is yucky."

Zećira jostles you as she chuckles and you turn to look at her. "It is," She agrees," But sometimes we have to take it to feel better."

"Being sick is yucky too."

"Yeah, it is," Zećira agrees again," But it's nothing that a good night's sleep won't fix."

You don't really believe her and make a face.

Zećira is still laughing and she leans closer to whisper in your ear," I'm sure your mums will let you sleep in the big bed if you beg hard enough."

You perk up at that. "Really?"

She nods. "Really."

You grin.

You love sleeping in the Big Bed.

[faeriekit]

Snow Day

SO IT TURNS OUT @tourettesdog also had a far-frozen based Phic Phight prompt so here's a sister fic of Snowdrift Sanctuary from yesterday okay please and thank you

Tundra peeked around the pillar of ice. Again.

The human was still there.

…Tundra peeked left. Tundra peeked right. No one else had seen them yet.

The human, in a big coat and big boots was squatting in the snow, drawing shapes Tundra couldn’t make out with their finger.

Tundra’s tail wagged. Well. He didn’t have a very long tail, so he mostly butt-wiggled. There’d never been a human at the Far Frozen before!! Tundra had heard of humans — he’d seen depictions and heard stories, sure. But now a human was here. And they lived here.

That was so cool.

So, maybe Tundra wanted to say hi! So what? Mama had said that he should be nice to the human, since they needed help and shelter that the Chief would provide, but they were also new and interesting and they hardly ever had anyone stay with them who wasn’t a yeti ever!! Maybe they’d let Tundra play with them while they were here?

So Tundra got down on his haunches. He crawled over the snowbank, wriggling as he went, taking advantage of his coat that blended into the terrain.

The human didn’t see him at all.

Tundra bared his teeth in a play grin, eyes squinting, tongue caught between his teeth. The human was so close. He crouched down as far as he could. He waited until the human wasn’t looking.

Tundra pounced.

And then there was a flash of green burning through the air, hot and bright and loud. Tundra startled.

He landed in the snow, dazed and off-balance. He could feel a hot spot in his fur—putting his paw to it, Tundra could feel where his fur was burnt to singed ends, the tips of each hair bulbous with char.

There was a steaming hole in the snow behind him.

…Oh.

“HOLY SH—are you okay?? Did I hurt you?? I’m sorry!!” someone shouted. Someone gently turned Tundra’s head, careful not to move him too harshly or too quickly. “Is your head okay? Are you bleeding? Is—“

“…Cool.” Tundra muttered, eyes still stuck to the hole in the snow. That was so strong. Even Avalanche wasn’t that strong, and she beat everyone in the tournament last season. No wonder the chief was in charge of the human ghost, even if there were lots of adults willing to help.  

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” the human apologized again, hands on their flat, pink face. Huh. Their hair was white now. When did that happen? “Usually when ghosts sneak up on me, they’re, uh… they’re not usually playing.”

Tundra looked at the human’s flat face and frowned. They got attacked? For real, and not for playing? “That’s mean. I hope you got them.”

The human made a strangled noise. Super weird! “Yeah…yeah. I did.”

“Good,” Tundra decided, back straightening straight up. The human was about as tall as he was, but humans were smaller in general. They were probably older. “If anyone attacks you now, you should get the Chief to eat them, and then they won’t attack you anymore.”

The human made another choked noise. Tundra assumed it was a laugh. He grinned back, pleased with the response, and wriggled back upright. “I’m Tundra! Mama says that you’re older than me even though we’re just as tall as each other! Are you a boy human, or a girl human? Or neither? Or both?!”

“…I’m a boy,” the human said, voice weak. Tundra peered in close at him, trying to see if he’d been injured too, but no; he looked fine, and he got his black hair back too.

“Cool,” said Tunda. “So am I. Arctic is too, but he’s big already, so he doesn’t want to play all the time. Do you like hunting?”

“I’ve…never hunted before.”

Not ever? Tundra gasped. “We can play chase, then, and then the chief can teach you how to hunt! And then we can hunt together!” Tundra scrambled to his feet, excited. “Do you want to stalk Avalanche with me?! She always throws me off, and then we can wrestle!”

The human hesitated.

“Or,” Tundra amended, because the human was still kind of small, “You can watch me stalk Avalanche, and watch us wrestle, and then I can teach you to stalk the chief so that you can wrestle with someone you know is safe.”

The human snorted, the fur cuff from his sleeve hiding his face. “I don’t know…isn’t he busy? You know, being the chief and all…””

“You’re supposed to wrestle your parents,” Tundra assured him, chest fur puffing up with pride. “I used to chew on Mama’s ears all the time when I was a cub. Now Avalanche and Arctic and everyone else can wrestle with me because they’re big enough to know how to stop playing before they squash me flat.”

The human laughed, openly and brightly, and it sounded nice.

Tundra stood so that could he could launch himself back towards the settled part of their little patch of the Infinite Realms. “Come on!!” he shouted, more than eager to play. “Last one there doesn’t get any fish eyes!”

There was a moment of silence—and then they were both rolling in the snow, the human having decided to launch into him!! This was great!! Tundra whooped, feigning bites and wriggling while the human pushed him further into the depths of the snow. The human’s grin was kind of wide and weird without a muzzle, but that wasn’t his fault, and he was having fun!! And so was Tundra!!

And the human-ghost could fly, and Tundra couldn’t, so chasing after him was super fun. They made it all the way back to the settlement in no time flat, dodging other kith and kin—

And running into Mama and Chief Advisor Pritla on accident was worth how much trouble he got into later.

Whoops!

[millyh23]

Ties That Bind

Kyra Cooney-Cross x Russo!Reader

word count:

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The sun cast a warm glow over the Arsenal training ground, a familiar sight for Kyra. She loved the feeling of the crisp air against her skin and the sound of laughter echoing among the players. Today was no different, but there was an exciting buzz in the atmosphere that felt new.

As she jogged onto the pitch, stretching her legs, Kyra spotted her teammate, Alessia Russo, chatting animatedly with a girl Kyra had never seen before. The girl was tall with long hair pulled back into a ponytail, wearing a bright smile that seemed to light up the field. Intrigued, Kyra couldn’t help but walk over, curiosity piqued.

“Hey, Alessia! Who’s your friend?” Kyra asked, her tone light and friendly.

Alessia turned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “This is Y/N, my sister! She’s visiting today, and I thought it’d be fun for her to see the training session.”

“Nice to meet you!” Y/N exclaimed, extending her hand toward Kyra. There was an infectious energy about her that immediately put Kyra at ease.

“Likewise! So, are you a football fan?” Kyra asked, shaking Y/N’s hand.

“Absolutely! I used to play a bit back in school, but I never really stuck with it,” Y/N replied, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. “I just love watching. There’s something so thrilling about the game.”

“Right? Nothing like the rush of a match!” Kyra agreed, feeling a spark of connection.

As the practice began, Kyra couldn’t help but glance over at Y/N from time to time. She watched Y/N cheer for her sister and the other players, a radiant smile on her face. It was hard to ignore how natural she seemed, her laughter ringing through the air, drawing the attention of others.

During a break, Kyra approached Y/N, her curiosity growing. “So, what do you do when you’re not here supporting Alessia?”

“Oh, I’m finishing up college right now,” Y/N replied, brushing a stray hair behind her ear. “Studying psychology. I’m kind of obsessed with understanding how people think and feel, you know?”

“Nice! That sounds really interesting,” Kyra said, genuinely impressed. “You must have some good insights into all of us chaotic footballers, huh?”

Y/N chuckled, “Oh, definitely. You guys are like a soap opera half the time!”

Kyra laughed, feeling the tension ease as they continued to chat, sharing stories and playful banter. The more they talked, the more Kyra felt drawn to Y/N’s easy-going nature. She was funny, genuine, and refreshingly open—a stark contrast to the often intense atmosphere of training.

As practice wrapped up, Kyra’s heart raced as she thought about how much she enjoyed talking to Y/N. She felt a strange flutter in her chest but quickly brushed it off. Just a new friend, she reminded herself.

Alessia approached, her arm slung around Y/N’s shoulders, a habit they shared since childhood. The easy familiarity in their body language spoke volumes about their bond. “Did you see that last drill, Y/N? You’d be a great defender—watching those tackles, I almost forgot I was in training!” Alessia teased, her playful grin widening.

Y/N rolled her eyes, laughter bubbling up. “Please, I’d probably just trip over my own feet! You should see me at family gatherings; I’m more likely to be the one falling into the cake than scoring a goal!”

Kyra couldn’t help but smile at the easy banter between them, feeling a warmth in her chest. Alessia often spoke fondly of her sister, sharing stories of their childhood—how Y/N would cheer her on from the sidelines, even when she was just starting out. The way they looked out for each other made it clear how deep their connection ran.

“Seriously, though,” Alessia said, her tone shifting slightly more sincere, “I’m really glad you could come. You know you’re always welcome at the training sessions, right? Just don’t start giving me advice on how to tackle!”

Y/N smirked. “I’d never dream of it! I’d leave that to the pros.”

As they chatted, Kyra felt a flutter in her stomach, mixed with a tinge of anxiety.

What if they became closer?

The thought sent a rush of warmth through her, but alongside it came a pang of worry about how Alessia might react.

As they left the pitch, Y/N waved goodbye, her smile radiant. “It was awesome to meet you, Kyra! Let’s hang out again soon?”

“Definitely!” Kyra replied, her heart racing. As she walked away, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something she didn’t quite understand yet.

Alessia sidled up beside her, a knowing grin plastered on her face. “So, what do you think? Isn’t she great?”

“Yeah, she’s cool,” Kyra replied, trying to keep her voice casual. “Seems like she’d fit right in with us.”

“Right? You should hang out more!” Alessia nudged Kyra with her shoulder. “Just don’t get too attached, okay? I don’t want you to steal her from me.”

Kyra chuckled nervously, but the thought lingered in her mind.

A few days later, Y/N texted Kyra, inviting her for coffee after training. The sun peeked through the clouds as Kyra made her way to their favorite café, a quaint spot just around the corner from the training ground.

“Hey! You made it!” Y/N greeted, her smile bright as she waved from a corner table.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Kyra replied, settling into her seat. “I’m looking forward to this.”

They spent the next hour discussing their lives—Y/N shared stories of her college experiences, her passion for psychology, and her dream of helping people navigate their mental health. Kyra felt herself opening up as well, sharing her journey as a footballer, the highs and lows, and her determination to improve.

“I can’t imagine the pressure you must feel,” Y/N said, her voice sincere. “You have to be at your best all the time. That’s tough.”

“It is,” Kyra admitted, feeling a weight lift as she spoke. “But I love it. It’s my escape.”

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by laughter and playful teasing. Kyra found herself leaning in closer, captivated by Y/N’s passion. With each shared story, she felt a growing sense of connection, something deeper than mere friendship.

As they walked back to the training ground, the sky painted in hues of pink and orange, Kyra couldn’t shake the feeling that this was something special. But a small voice in the back of her mind reminded her of Alessia’s warning.

Don’t get too attached.

Match day arrived, and the Arsenal team buzzed with energy as they prepared for the game. Kyra was excited but also distracted, her thoughts frequently drifting to Y/N.

During warm-ups, Kyra spotted Y/N on the sidelines, cheering loudly for her sister. Y/N had brought a homemade sign, “Go, Alessia!” decorated with colorful markers, a testament to her support. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and Kyra felt her heart race every time Y/N glanced her way.

As the match unfolded, Kyra played her heart out, but she found herself stealing glances at Y/N. Each smile Y/N threw her way sent a rush of warmth through her, heightening her confusion.

What am I feeling?

After the match, a win for Arsenal, Kyra sought out Y/N. She found her chatting animatedly with Alessia and a few other players, their laughter ringing out in the post-match excitement.

“Kyra! You were incredible out there!” Y/N exclaimed, rushing over to give her a hug. The warmth of Y/N’s embrace sent a jolt of electricity through Kyra, making her heart race even faster.

“Thanks! It was a good game,” Kyra replied, trying to maintain her composure despite the whirlwind of emotions.

Y/N smiled up at her, and Kyra’s breath caught in her throat.

Why do I feel this way?

The question haunted her as they talked more, but she couldn’t bring herself to voice it.

Alessia, noticing the chemistry, raised an eyebrow but kept her thoughts to herself. Instead, she leaned closer to Kyra. “We should celebrate! How about a dinner? Just us three?”

Kyra nodded, but inside, she felt a mix of excitement and dread.

What if things got complicated?

A few days later, they gathered for dinner at Alessia and Y/N’s home. The atmosphere was relaxed, filled with laughter and teasing as they prepared the meal together. Kyra found herself seated between the two sisters, the dynamic between them vibrant and playful.

“Just be warned, if you try to steal my food, I will not hesitate to tackle you,” Alessia joked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Kyra laughed, “Noted! I wouldn’t dare cross that line.”

Y/N leaned in, her voice conspiratorial. “She once tackled me just for a slice of cake. It was brutal.”

Alessia gasped, mock horror on her face. “That was one time! And I was hungry!”

As they enjoyed dinner, Kyra felt increasingly aware of Y/N’s presence beside her. The way Y/N animatedly spoke about her life made Kyra’s heart flutter.

She’s amazing.

Kyra thought, fighting the urge to reach out and touch Y/N’s hand.

When they finished eating, the three of them moved to the living room, where Alessia put on a movie. Kyra settled into the couch, trying to suppress the thrill coursing through her as Y/N sat next to her.

About halfway through the film, Kyra felt Y/N’s hand brush against hers, a light touch that sent shivers down her spine. She looked over to see Y/N blushing slightly, her eyes wide as if she hadn’t meant to touch her at all.

“Sorry!” Y/N stammered, pulling her hand away, but Kyra felt a sudden surge of courage.

“No, wait!” Kyra said, reaching for Y/N’s hand again. Their fingers intertwined, and an electric current surged between them.

Y/N’s eyes widened, surprise mingling with something deeper. “Kyra…”

Before either could say more, Alessia jumped up, oblivious to the tension. “Who wants dessert? I brought cookies!”

Kyra and Y/N pulled their hands apart, the moment shattered but not forgotten. As they turned their attention back to Alessia, Kyra felt a mix of disappointment and hope—

maybe there was something there.

In the days that followed, Kyra and Y/N found themselves growing closer, their moments filled with laughter and shared experiences. They began spending more time together outside of training, exploring the city and enjoying each other’s company.

One evening, while walking through a park, the sun setting behind them, Kyra felt a rush of emotions. “Y/N, can I ask you something?”

“Of course! What’s on your mind?” Y/N replied, her expression open and inviting.

“What do you think about… relationships?” Kyra hesitated, the weight of her feelings pressing down on her.

Y/N tilted her head, curiosity piqued. “Well, they can be complicated but also amazing. Why?”

“I… I think I might like you more than just friends,” Kyra confessed, her heart racing as she spoke the words.

Y/N’s eyes widened, her surprise palpable. “You do?”

“Yeah, and I know it might be weird since we’re friends and I’m friends with your sister, but—”

“It’s not weird,” Y/N interrupted, her voice steady. “I like you too, Kyra. I’ve felt this connection since we first met.”

Kyra’s heart soared. “Really? I thought I was being ridiculous!”

“No! Not at all!” Y/N said, her smile brightening. “I’ve been hoping you’d say something.”

As they stood there, the world around them faded away, and Kyra felt an overwhelming sense of relief wash over her. They leaned closer, sharing a tentative kiss, their lips brushing softly before deepening into something warm and sweet.

When they pulled back, Y/N’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling with joy. “Wow, that was nice.”

“Yeah, it was,” Kyra replied, her heart racing.

However, amidst the growing excitement of their relationship, Kyra couldn’t shake the feeling of anxiety.

What would Alessia think?

One evening, while the three of them were watching a movie, Kyra felt the tension building inside her. “Alessia, can we talk?”

“Sure! What’s up?” Alessia replied, her brow furrowing slightly.

Kyra took a deep breath. “So, Y/N and I… we’re kind of seeing each other now.”

Alessia’s eyes widened in surprise, then softened with understanding. “Oh! Wow, I didn’t see that coming, but I’m happy for you both! Just be careful, okay?”

“Thanks, Alessia. I just didn’t want to hide it from you,” Kyra said, relief washing over her.

Y/N chimed in, “I’m glad we told you. I hope it doesn’t change anything between us.”

Alessia smiled warmly. “Not at all! Just don’t expect me to choose sides if you two get into an argument!”

As they laughed, Kyra felt a wave of happiness wash over her, feeling supported and accepted.

However, as the days turned into weeks, Kyra noticed a shift in Y/N’s mood. She seemed more reserved, and Kyra couldn’t help but worry. One evening, as they sat together, Kyra decided to address it.

“Y/N, is everything okay? You seem a bit off lately,” Kyra said, concern lacing her voice.

Y/N sighed, her eyes downcast. “I’m just worried about how this affects my relationship with Alessia. I don’t want to come between you two.”

“Y/N, you’re not coming between us,” Kyra reassured her, taking Y/N’s hands in hers. “Alessia supports us. This is something special, and it’s okay to embrace it.”

“I know, but it’s a lot to navigate. I don’t want to lose my sister or you,” Y/N admitted, her vulnerability shining through.

“You won’t lose either of us. We’ll figure this out together,” Kyra promised, squeezing Y/N’s hands tighter.

As they talked, Kyra felt a sense of determination to support Y/N. They would face the challenges together, no matter what.

Over the next few weeks, Kyra and Y/N worked on finding balance in their relationship. They supported each other in their individual pursuits, attending matches and helping each other through training challenges.

One day, after a particularly grueling training session, Y/N surprised Kyra with a picnic in the park. “I thought we could use a break,” Y/N said, spreading out a blanket under a tree.

“This is amazing!” Kyra exclaimed, her heart swelling with affection as they settled down.

As they enjoyed their meal, Y/N smiled shyly. “I’m really happy we’re doing this. I feel like I can be myself around you.”

“You can always be yourself with me,” Kyra replied, her tone earnest. “That’s what I love about us.”

Y/N looked thoughtful for a moment, then asked, “Do you ever worry about how this will affect your career?”

“I do sometimes, but I know what I want,” Kyra admitted, meeting Y/N’s gaze. “I want to support you and be there for you.”

Their conversation flowed seamlessly, filled with laughter and affection. But as the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the park, a weight settled over Kyra’s heart.

As the season progressed, Kyra’s performance on the pitch soared, but the pressure began to mount. The media was buzzing with rumors, and Kyra felt the weight of expectations bearing down on her.

One day, after a particularly difficult training session, Kyra found herself snapping at Y/N over a small mistake. “Can you just focus for once? This isn’t a game!” she blurted out, frustration boiling over.

Y/N’s expression fell, hurt flashing across her face. “I am focusing, Kyra! I’m here to support you, not to make things harder.”

Kyra immediately regretted her words. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just stressed.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I get that, but I need you to communicate with me. I want to help, but you have to let me in.”

“Please don’t shut me out,” Kyra pleaded, her heart aching at the sight of Y/N’s hurt expression.

They stood in silence for a moment, the air thick with unspoken emotions. Finally, Y/N spoke softly, “I just want us to be okay.”

“We will be,” Kyra promised, pulling Y/N into a gentle embrace. “I’m sorry for taking my stress out on you.”

As time passed, Kyra and Y/N worked hard to communicate openly and honestly. Their bond deepened, filled with moments of vulnerability and understanding.

One night, after a successful match where Kyra scored the winning goal, they celebrated together. Y/N’s face lit up with pride as she hugged Kyra tightly. “I’m so proud of you! You were incredible out there!”

“Thanks! I couldn’t have done it without your support,” Kyra said, grinning from ear to ear.

They danced around the living room, lost in their joy and laughter. But as the excitement faded, a moment of stillness settled between them.

“Kyra, I’ve been thinking,” Y/N said, her expression serious. “What happens if things get tough again? We’ve been doing well, but I worry about the future.”

“Me too,” Kyra admitted, feeling the weight of Y/N’s concerns. “But we can face it together. I want to be with you, no matter what challenges come our way.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, a mixture of relief and gratitude flooding her features. “Okay. Together.”

As they shared a kiss, a sense of determination filled the air, a promise that they would continue to fight for each other, no matter what obstacles lay ahead.

However, just as they settled into a rhythm, a sudden twist sent their world spiraling. A rumor surfaced in the media about a potential transfer for Kyra, stirring uncertainty within their relationship.

Y/N confronted Kyra one evening,

her voice trembling. “Is it true? Are you thinking about leaving?”

Kyra felt her heart drop. “Y/N, it’s just a rumor. I don’t want to go anywhere. You mean too much to me.”

“But what if it’s not just a rumor? What if you get an offer and…?”

“Y/N, stop!” Kyra interrupted, frustration creeping in. “You’re letting your insecurities get the best of you. I’m not leaving you.”

“But what if you have to choose between your career and me?” Y/N challenged, her eyes filled with fear.

“Why do we have to make it a choice?” Kyra asked, desperation tinging her voice. “We can make this work, no matter where I go!”

Y/N shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I don’t want to be the reason you miss out on your dreams.”

“Being with you is part of my dream, Y/N!” Kyra pleaded, reaching for Y/N’s hand. “Please believe that.”

But Y/N turned away, her heart heavy with uncertainty. “I need some space,” she whispered before walking out.

In the days that followed, the distance between them grew unbearable. Kyra threw herself into training, trying to drown out the pain of losing Y/N.

But every goal she scored felt hollow without Y/N by her side. One evening, after a particularly rough training session, she broke down, her teammates rallying around her.

“Kyra, you need to talk to Y/N,” Alessia urged, her voice firm. “You can’t let this distance linger.”

“I know, but I don’t want to push her away further,” Kyra replied, her voice cracking.

“You won’t know unless you try. Go find her,” Alessia encouraged, her eyes filled with determination.

With her heart pounding, Kyra made her way to Y/N’s apartment. She knocked hesitantly, fear coursing through her veins. When Y/N opened the door, Kyra’s breath caught in her throat.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” she began, her voice trembling. “I never meant to hurt you. Can we talk?”

Y/N stepped aside, allowing Kyra to enter. The silence hung heavy as they settled into the living room.

“I’ve missed you,” Kyra confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ve missed you too, but I’ve been confused,” Y/N admitted, her gaze shifting to the floor. “I don’t want to hold you back.”

“You’re not holding me back,” Kyra replied, desperation lacing her words. “You’re my support, my everything. I don’t want to lose that.”

“But what if it becomes too complicated?” Y/N challenged, her voice shaky.

“Complications are part of relationships,” Kyra said earnestly. “But I believe we can work through anything together. I want you in my life, Y/N.”

Y/N looked up, her eyes glistening with emotion. “Really?”

“Yes! I’m not going anywhere. I promise,” Kyra vowed, stepping closer to Y/N.

Tears brimmed in Y/N’s eyes as she nodded slowly. “I want to believe you.”

“Then let me show you,” Kyra whispered, wrapping her arms around Y/N and pulling her into a tight embrace.

As they held each other, the warmth of their connection seeped back in, washing away the tension that had built between them.

“I’m sorry for pushing you away,” Y/N murmured against Kyra’s shoulder. “I was scared.”

“I understand, and I’m sorry for the rumors. But I want to face this together,” Kyra replied, pulling back to look Y/N in the eye. “You mean too much to me.”

Y/N smiled through her tears, her heart swelling with affection. “You really mean it?”

“Of course. I care about you more than anything,” Kyra affirmed, cupping Y/N’s face in her hands.

With a tentative smile, Y/N leaned in, their lips meeting in a soft kiss. As they pulled back, Kyra felt a sense of hope blooming inside her.

“Let’s take it one day at a time,” Y/N suggested, her voice filled with determination.

“I’m all in,” Kyra replied, a grin spreading across her face.

In the weeks that followed, Kyra and Y/N found their rhythm again. They communicated openly, sharing their fears and dreams without hesitation.

One evening, as they stargazed on a rooftop, Kyra turned to Y/N, a sense of contentment washing over her. “I’m so grateful for you.”

“Me too,” Y/N replied, resting her head on Kyra’s shoulder. “I never want to go through that distance again.”

“Neither do I,” Kyra agreed, wrapping her arm around Y/N protectively. “We’re stronger together.”

As they sat in silence, the weight of their struggles began to lift, replaced by a sense of clarity. They could face whatever challenges lay ahead, as long as they had each other.

And in that moment, under the vast expanse of the starry sky, Kyra realized that their love was worth fighting for.

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

The End

[papiliotao]

・❥・IN CLASSROOM 143

♡ — Reader: GN

♡ — Characters: Aether, Albedo, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Xiao

♡ — Synopsis: what is it like sitting next to them in class?

♡ — Content: fluff, high school AU, modern AU

♡ — A/N: classes were just better when I sat next to silly people. That's probably where I got the inspiration for this from. Have fun reading!

AETHER is the living definition of overcommitment. He's quite popular among your peers, so it's only natural that people are queuing up to ask him to join their clubs. Unfortunately, he's a bit people pleaser, so he can never find the heart to turn them down. From music to volleyball, Aether is involved in almost every extracurricular that the school has to offer, and as his desk partner in history class, you begin to notice the toll it’s taking on him.

It shows in the way he's always late and gasping for air as he sits down beside you. It shows in the way he turns to you and tiredly waves at you each class, offering you a weak smile that makes your heart skip a beat. And it shows in the way his honeyed eyes droop as he fights the temptation of slumber, all while your elderly teacher's droning voice lulls him into a state of tranquility.

He's fighting a losing battle, and he knows it. Each time the boy gives in to his weariness and lays his head on his desk to inevitably drift into the realm of dreams, his expression softens. He looks so content. You can never muster the willpower to wake him up, so instead, you leave him be and diligently take notes to share with him once class ends. After all, even someone as busy as Aether needs to set aside some time to rest in their strenuous schedule. The dark circles under his eyes tell you all you need to know about the amount of sleep he gets.

But there's no way the frigid surface of the table he uses as a makeshift pillow is comfortable, so one day, on an impulsive whim, you offer up your shoulder as a headrest instead. Aether agrees gratefully, and from then on, the sweet boy leans against you as he rests. His warm breath sends tingles down your spine, and his soft hair tickles your skin, and although his proximity makes it harder for you to take notes, you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

ALBEDO, the boy who sits next to you in chemistry, is studious yet eccentric. He’s known for achieving nearly perfect grades by utilizing his unrivalled intellect, and he’s always the first person his peers go to for help with their schoolwork despite the fact that he’s rather introverted. As a result of his reserved demeanour, he almost never offers his aid to others first, but you’re the exception. 

Whenever you look as though you’re struggling, Albedo won’t hesitate to assist you. He almost appears a little too excited to talk to you, giving advice anytime he sees an opportunity to. It's gotten to the point where even your classmates have picked up on his eagerness to speak to you, and they have started speculating that the bright boy is infatuated with you. You can't deny the fact that the thought causes your heart to flutter, but you try your best not to get your hopes up, just in case your peers are mistaken. Besides, Albedo is rather difficult to understand anyway, so it wouldn't come as a shock if it turned out that his intentions were simply being misinterpreted.

One example of said contradictory behaviour on Albedo's part has to do with his participation during lessons. Despite his stellar academic performance, he has a habit of zoning out whenever a topic doesn’t interest him. In those instances, you notice that he pulls out a sketchbook and flips to a page half-filled with doodles and begins to meticulously scrawl on the paper. Soon, snowy white is dyed shades of grey and black, undergoing a metamorphosis that transforms it into the finest of portraits. You’re always curious as to what Albedo is drawing, but you’re never able to catch a clear glimpse. Whenever you look his way, he hastily shuts the book, concealing its contents as if he is guilty of a crime.

Unbeknownst to you, the ocean-eyed boy beside you is doodling the one he is infatuated with: you. His feelings ebb into his sketchbook, and his art captures every dip and curve of your face, encapsulating all your radiance with immaculate precision. And yet, he never overlooks your imperfections either — with his pencil acting as a catalyst, he records them in great detail. Albedo is in love with every single aspect of you, even your flaws, which arguably garner more adoration from the boy than any of your other features because they make you distinct — the brightest star in a galaxy full of wonders. Perhaps one day, he will be able to show you his works, but for now, he is more than content with silently admiring you.

Peculiarity is a trait best embodied by KAEDEHARA KAZUHA, the boy who sits next to you in English class. On the surface, he seems normal enough — although one could argue that he is abnormally pretty with his snowy white hair and eyes the colour of autumnal maple leaves. However, he is also strange in other ways. Six months of conversing with Kazuha have led you to the conclusion that he is most definitely odd, but not necessarily in a bad way.

Unlike most of your peers, Kazuha often appears to have his head in the clouds, daydreaming in a world that he has made entirely his own. There are times where he stares out the window, sighing wistfully as he gazes at the vivid azure sky overhead. On other occasions, he writes poems in the worn notebook he always carries around, hardly minding the way you look over his shoulder to get a glimpse of what he's writing. Most puzzling of all, however, is his tendency to absentmindedly stare at you in the middle of class. He doesn’t even have the shame to look away when you glance back at him. He just maintains eye contact and smiles at you, causing you to avert your gaze first.

Despite the fact that Kazuha is rather odd, he is still a polite and compassionate person. Whenever you allow him to proofread your assignments, he compliments your work in embellished words that bloom with praise, and he offers advice in a way that feels warm and genuine. You feel at ease with him — unafraid of being judged. However, sometimes guilt gnaws at you when you ask for Kazuha's help because he's always the one assisting you. He has nothing to gain, but he continues assisting you out of the kindness of his own heart.

That's why when Kazuha asks you to read over some of his poetry for the first time, you agree without hesitation. A quick scan of the page Kazuha directs you to causes you to raise your eyebrows. It's a love poem that is cryptically addressed to ‘the one I adore’. You can feel the affection Kazuha harbors toward the person mentioned in the poem just by reading it. When you ask Kazuha who it's for, he simply chuckles and asks if you like his poetry, effectively dodging your question. You decide to let him off easy and give him a half-hearted answer, pretending that you aren’t jealous of the person he likes.

Over the remainder of the year, Kazuha continues showing you his poetry and requesting input from you. Each time you read his impeccably-crafted works, you feel your heart race. His poems are spun from the stuff of dreams — sweeter than the cotton candy clouds that hang in the sky outside the classroom window.

Sometimes you like to entertain the idea that they could be for you, but you always shut the notion down before it can grow into a fully-developed thought, too insecure to believe someone as handsome and thoughtful as Kazuha could ever hold such feelings for you. 

When it comes time for the final English class of the year, you swear that you’ve read almost every form of poem in existence from sonnets to haikus to odes. On that particular day, you notice something different about Kazuha. He seems more fidgety than usual, and he has entirely lost his ability to zone out, instead becoming hyperaware of his surroundings. The smallest movements you make cause him to whip his head around to steal a glance at you.

You discover the reason behind his atypical behaviour at the end of class when he hands you a simple white envelope. When you open it, you find pages upon pages of poetry, causing you to experience a sudden epiphany.

The one he loved was you all along.

Raiden Kunikuzushi — more commonly known as SCARAMOUCHE — is living proof that pretty privilege exists. At least, that’s what you believe.

He’s infuriating. No matter how abhorrent you find the way he treats his friends (who are honestly more akin to acquaintances), they never stand up to him. They simply allow Scaramouche to walk all over them. It's like he's put them in a trance with his breathtaking eyes, which are filled with starlight and tinted an indigo reminiscent of the awe-inspiring night sky.

But despite the fact that he is admired by many, his relationships are purely superficial. To his peers, he is nothing more than a sight for sore eyes, and that is what keeps the bitterness of envious sentiments from swallowing you whole. You’ll never be jealous of Scaramouche because his popularity stems solely from his looks. 

His situation evokes a feeling of pity within the depths of your soul. The notion of your contempt for the boy still remains ingrained in your mind, but you also can’t help but pity him.

Perhaps that is what pushes you to sit beside him in your physics class on the first day of school when you notice that he is all alone. You have your reservations, but the way Scaramouche is scowling makes you think he’ll explode out of sheer rage if you don't take action.

Things start off slowly. He doesn't speak to you at first. You simply see him glancing suspiciously at you in your peripheral vision, as if he believes you have ulterior motives. However, the awkward tension becomes too much for you far too quickly, so on a typical day of classes, you decide to take your chances and pass him a note in the middle of a lesson, asking him how his day was.

When Scaramouche first sees your note, he frowns. It almost appears as though he's in disbelief because someone has taken an interest in him rather than his looks. Nonetheless, he decides to entertain you and promptly responds to you, writing a reply underneath your message in impressively neat handwriting. This sparks a conversation. One instance of the two of you passing notes in class turns to two — and two to three until you and Scaramouche are discreetly conversing each class.

Your inconspicuous discussions with Scaramouche lead you to learn more about him as a person. Whereas before you thought he was just a shallow pretty boy, now you know that he’s both cunning and witty. He never fails to make you laugh with his sarcastic comments, and despite the fact that he seems rather mean-spirited at times, you discover that once he opens up, he is more than capable of caring for others. Case in point: on days where you're feeling down, he (attempts) to tell you jokes to make you feel better, and he gives you the candy that his mother packs for him, claiming that he "doesn't like sweets anyway."

If only other people could take the time to get to know the real him. Underneath the veil of entrancing vanity and mystery that surrounds him, Scaramouche is a surprisingly entertaining and contemplative person.

However, for now, it seems that Scaramouche is more than content with the relationship he has with you. He doesn't care for any of his two-faced "friends." The only one he needs is you.

Fate has rather unconventional methods of bringing people together. There are times where you believe it is sentient, cutting, weaving, and pulling on the delicate threads that bind humans together with its steady hands.

Fate must be alive and working its magical because there is no other plausible explanation for how things ended up this way. All that is to say, some otherworldly force must have noticed your desperation to get closer to your longtime crush, XIAO, and finally decided to take pity on you.

It's crazy to think that one minuscule decision can shape the course of your entire relationship with someone, but your own experiences are indicating to you that there is some merit to the claim. After all, your computer science teacher's spontaneous choice to seat you next to Xiao is what kindles the first sparks of your relationship with him.

It all starts with music. At first, Xiao doesn’t attempt to converse with you. He seems adamant on retaining his introverted ways. It's not that he doesn't want to talk to you; he's just inexperienced when it comes to socialization. So instead of making an effort to talk to you, he simply grabs a pair of earbuds and listens to his favourite songs whenever the teacher gives the class time to work.

This all changes when you muster the courage to ask him what he’s listening to. The way his eyes widen that fateful day, gazing at you with surprise evident in his pools of amber, is something you’ll never forget.

After all the silence on his end, you still want to talk to him? He is touched by your resolve, but he is also afraid of being too blunt, so instead of giving you an overly-verbose response, he asks you if you want to listen with him, offering you one of his earbuds. Xiao's heart jumps when you accept with an endearing smile. From then on, the two of you bond over music, and Xiao begins feeling comfortable enough to speak to you.

Gradually, years of distance and rigid formality vanish. Hushed conversations at the back of a sunlit classroom, shy waves from across cramped hallways, and accidental touches of his hands to yours replace the barriers that once separated the two of you. A once hopeless situation gives way to a radiant future as you finally begin getting closer to the boy you've pined over for as long as you can remember.

Sorry if there are mistakes. I feel like I'm making this worse each time I edit it :( Either way, thank you for reading and have a fantastic day/night!

[nicholasluvbot]

YOU'RE THE SUN THAT'S IN MY EYES ( SEOK MATTHEW )

— two best friends, a million missed hints, and one group of very impatient matchmakers.

୨୧ fem!reader 𖦹 ( 1573 words ) ⩇ fluff & crack

You had a problem. A very big problem. And that problem was Matthew.

Matthew was your best friend in the whole world. He had been for a while. Except, somewhere along the way, being around him started to make your heart race, and suddenly, you found yourself harboring a very inconvenient, very distracting crush on him. It was ridiculous, honestly. Your heart only acted up because Matthew was nice. He was sweet to everyone, not just you. Surely, you’d get over this stupid infatuation soon. But the more you tried to ignore it, the worse it got.

It was all his fault. Seriously. Because how were you not supposed to swoon whenever he grinned at you? You felt like a complete fool, getting all giddy like a lovesick teenager when Matthew probably didn’t even notice. He was just being friendly, right? That’s what best friends do!

But there were moments. Little moments. That made you question this. Like that one time, when you went to get coffee before an exam, and he’d taken your cold hands in his, lifted them closer to his mouth, and pressed his lips against them to warm them. You were not prepared for that. You swore your knees buckled the moment he did that, heart beating fast and hands still shaking as you went into the exam.

Or how, in class, he always insisted on sitting next to you. His leg would always be pressed against yours, a constant point of contact that left your skin buzzing. And when you pulled away, you’d see his shoulders slump in disappointment from the corner of your eye.

And then there was the heart. The stupid, wobbly-looking heart he once drew on the back of your hand while you were studying. Normally, he’d just draw a penis to annoy you, but no, this time it was a heart. And he’d done it with that little grin on his face, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

Matthew was infuriating. Infuriatingly adorable. He was also the funniest and kindest guy you knew. No matter how bad your day was, he always greeted you with that infectious smile—the kind that made your heart stumble and your lips mirror his before you could stop yourself. That was the effect Matthew had on you. He was your walking sunshine, and you were hopelessly addicted to his warmth.

Matthew thinks you’re the stupidest girl on earth. And yes, the prettiest too, but he’ll get to that part later. Right now, you were the stupidest girl ever! He was grappling with the fact that despite all the obvious hints he’d been dropping, you were still completely oblivious to his feelings. It was driving him insane!

He’d been trying so hard to make it clear—flirting, being extra touchy and attentive, drawing hearts on your hand (which he swore was a huge gesture)—but you seemed to think he was just being friendly. And don’t even get him started on Taerae, who kept insisting that Matthew’s so-called “hints” weren’t hints at all, just Matthew being his usual bubbly self.

Matthew strongly disagreed. To him, it was crystal clear that he was practically waving a neon sign that read “I have feelings for you!” He was convinced that if he came right out and told you he loved you, you’d just smile and say, “Thanks,” thinking he was just being friendly. It was infuriating, and frankly, a little heartbreaking.

Maybe you liked Matthew just as a friend. Maybe you were immune to his charm. But if that were true, then why did you look at him like you wanted to kiss the life out of him? And why did you turn bright red whenever his hand brushed against yours, as though a mere touch was enough to set your whole world on fire? So many questions in his head, each more perplexing than the last. He felt like he almost had the answers, but then a creeping doubt would settle in—what if he was just reading too much into it?

The more he tried to make sense of your reactions, the more tangled his thoughts became. The way you laughed at his jokes no matter how lame they were, the way you leaned in unconsciously when you spoke to him, and the way your hands would idly reach up to his hair and play with it—it all seemed like more than mere friendship to Matthew. But the thought that he was just seeing what he wanted to see haunted him.

It didn’t take long for your friends to catch on, too. And God, were they annoying about it. Hao would peer at you and Matthew over the top of his glasses, face scrunched up in utter disgust whenever you two shared even the briefest interaction. A smile? Cue the exaggerated eye roll.

Gyuvin and Ricky weren’t any better, making it a point to cough obnoxiously loud whenever Matthew was trying to speak to you.

“Hey Y/N, your hair looks—” cough, cough. “I really like your—” COUGH, COUGH!

It was like being under constant surveillance by a team of over-the-top drama queens.

Gunwook, though, was the real menace. He’d lean in to give Matthew a hug and end up “accidentally” pushing him toward you, sending you both crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs. And yet, despite the chaos, neither of you seemed annoyed. If anything, you both secretly enjoyed the feeling of being in each other’s arms, touches lingering just a little longer. And though you’d never admit it, your friends knew. They’d just watch you and Matthew smile at each other with knowing smirks.

Yujin took things to an entirely new level. He’d let out a loud, dramatic gasp whenever your hand brushed against Matthew’s, throwing his hands over his eyes like he’d seen the most scandalous thing ever.

And Jiwoong—this guy had a knack for trickery. Somehow always convincing you and Matthew to wear matching clothes or accessories without either of you realizing, until the boys saw you.

The moment you’d walk in with Matthew, both of you wearing an item of the same color or print, they would erupt into cheers, saying that you two were “basically a married couple now.”

Taerae would then start singing a sad ballad, dragging out every note as much as possible, while wiping fake tears from his eyes, while Hao, Ricky, and Gyuvin would start coming up with baby names. The teasing was relentless.

Hanbin was the only normal one among you. The one beacon of sanity. If anything, he probably felt more embarrassment than you or Matthew ever did. While everyone took a chance to push you two together, Hanbin would just watch from afar, arms crossed, head shaking in disappointment. And when he noticed that you and Matthew actually enjoyed the teasing? Oh, that made it even worse.

Like that one time at a café. The whole group was seated, enjoying their drinks, when Gyuvin decided to be, well, Gyuvin. “Kiss her! Kiss her!” he chanted loudly, just because you’d taken a sip of Matthew’s drink. And of course, the others immediately jumped in, some even banging their fists on the table like they were at a sports game rather than a quiet café. They yelled louder and louder, forgetting about the innocent people around who were probably annoyed by the chants. Hanbin, as usual, just stood off to the side, pretending not to know any of you. His face was buried in his hands as the barista shot your group a death glare. The inevitable happened: you were all kicked out. And Hanbin, red-faced and mortified, sighed deeply as he trailed behind the rest of you.

But nothing could compare to the stunt they’d pulled just now. You and Matthew had cluelessly stepped into the elevator, like you always did, only for it to break down while you two were trapped inside.

“Shit, what do we do now?” you asked, pressing the buttons on the elevator with urgency.

Matthew wrapped his hand around your wrist and gently pulled you toward him. “Don’t worry, it’s probably just the boys playing another prank,” he said softly.

You relaxed at his words. Ricky probably paid someone to do this—at least, you hoped. You went to stand beside Matthew, leaning on the cold elevator wall next to him.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, you rubbed your temple and said, “Honestly, they’ve lost all sense of shame.”

Matthew chuckled at your words and turned to face you. “You know, maybe we should just save them the trouble and go out.”

You cocked an eyebrow at him, but the grin on your face gave your feelings away. Matthew’s hands were immediately on your hips, pulling you toward him.

The others waited with bated breath, hoping you’d be stuck long enough for something to happen, hoping this would finally force you two to make a move. And it worked. When the doors finally pried open a few minutes later, there you were, mid-kiss, with Matthew’s hand tangled in your hair as you both finally gave in to the tension that had been building for what felt like forever.

The second Gyuvin saw you, he screamed at the top of his lungs, “THEY FINALLY KISSED! OH MY GOD!” as he jumped around. Meanwhile, Yujin stood there, completely flabbergasted at the sight in front of him, mouth hanging open.

© NICHOLASLUVBOT. DO NOT PLAGIARISE , STEAL , TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS.

[reidsdimples]

Strictly Professional | Part 2

Spencer Reid x Reader

18+❤️‍🔥

You're hooking up with your coworker, Spencer Reid. Someone at the BAU knows.

Part 1

"No way, you are not getting out of this. You have nowhere else to be, you have to tell us what's been going on with you," Penelope grips your arm with a playfully smile. JJ and Prentiss cross their arms, they agree that something is off.

"It's nothing," you groan. The guys are talking on the back patio after everyone met up for Italiano at Rossi's. You sip your wine and make sure not to trail your eyes over to where Spencer is leaning against the balcony, lost in conversation.

The two of you have been very careful for the last two weeks, not hooking up after the exchange in the intel closet at work. The girls were picking up on your distracted behavior, perhaps even your frustration at him keeping his distance. You'd rather them think you're upset though, than suspect what's really going on- or was going on.

"Come on, spill," Prentiss prods. Her devastating smile was contagious.

"I-" you pause to think. "Things ended with someone I was casually dating."

"Ouch, that's not good. I'm sorry chica," Penelope hugs you.

"Perks of the job," JJ sighs sympathetically.

You're attention is drawn towards the patio when Morgan sprints past the window with Spencer strapped to his back. Hotch's face is in his hand and Rossi is smiling wide. Before you know it all of you are laughing and headed outside to join them.

"Listen here kid, next time I'm going to throw you off," Morgan is standing above Spencer who is sprawled on his back in the grass and laughing.

"I'm not even gonna ask," Prentiss smiles at them.

Morgan takes Spence's hand and hauls him back up before taking him into a playful headlock. These are the moments that heal the team's souls, where the bonding happens, and the trauma of the job falls away for just a moment.

You all chatter amongst yourselves, allowing the evening to float on by in blissful wine fueled companionship. You and Reid converse casually within the group but he makes no effort to joke with or seek you out directed for conversation. You worry his avoidance will draw attention but no one else seems to notice.

"I think I need to stop," you giggle as you set the empty wine glass down.

The effects go straight to your head and relax your body. The issue with wine for you though is that it makes you keenly aware of that sensitive spot between your legs. Even your thighs rubbing together is torture to your heightened senses. You cut yourself off because you are beginning to notice Spencer far more.

The way he stands and shifts his weight onto one leg, the fighting of his fingers, the way his tongue darts across his bottom lip on occasion when he's about to talk... if you let yourself notice those things, well...

"Hey you okay?" Garcia asks, snapping you out of your daydream.

Reid notices you staring before you turn to Garcia.

"Yeah, zoned out," your cheeks heat.

"Alright who's sober enough to drive me and Y/N home?" She announces to the group.

"I can drive," you protest. You know you probably shouldn't. JJ and Prentiss are leaning on each other laughing at some unknown joke, faces bright red, and they're both swaying. They aren't even aware of the conversation at hand.

"I'll take these two," Morgan places a hand on Prentiss' and JJ's shoulders.

"Reid, you take them home," Rossi instructs towards you and Garcia. You groan under your breath which catches Hotch's attention. Reid raises his eyebrows and half turns towards the two of you, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I need to have a word with you," Hotch tells Rossi. It's implied that it's to take place after you all leave.

"The men are all sober and so serious," Prentiss taunts playfully as she and JJ link arms and skip past them. You can't help but to laugh.

You and Garcia pile into the back of Reid's car, Penelope pouting because she had to leave her car at Rossi's.

"I'm in Dr. Reid's car, how bizarre," Penelope seems to come to one of her realizations. She glances around, looks down and her eyes blow wide as Spencer silently begins to drive. "Y/N," she slaps your leg rapidly. "Tell me that's not women's underwear, please tell me it's not," she whispering now. She's pointing to a red thong on the floor board of his car.

"Shut the fuck up," you breathe.

"No way! Dr. Spencer Reid is a certified man whore!" She exclaims.

Spencer's head snaps back to look at her, unsure of what she's referring to. His eyes crash into yours for a moment as though you would have actually told her.

"Underwear, Spence, really?" You lay on the disbelief thick as though they aren't yours.

"That's not, it's not-" he rambles off.

"I'm calling Morgan," Penelope is giddy with excitement as she whips out her cell phone. You stop her playfully.

"This is looking real unsub-ish," you grip Spencer's shoulders from behind him. He clears his throat and shakes his head but stays focused on the road. You can feel the electricity spike between you so you drop your hands from him.

"This does not leave this car," he pleads with the two of you. You can see his knuckles whiten as his grip tightens on the wheel, he's not angry. He's flustered, embarrassed. It's adorable.

"Fine," Penelope groans. "I'll keep this delicious little morsel of information to myself. For now."

You swear you can hear Spence roll his eyes.

He pulls up to Penelope's apartment first and steps out of the car to let her out.

"You are more than just a brainiac, aren't ya," she pats Spencer's chest while giggling.

"Yeah yeah yeah," he grins and walks her to her door. You lie down in the backseat, your eyes fluttering closed as you remember just how those underwear got there.

The two of you had been sent to follow up on a lead that turned out to be a dead end. It was late, both of your inhibitions lowered with sleep deprivation. The aching need between you that seemed to draw on forever had come to a breaking point.

You had drug him into the backseat under the protection of darkness on the back country road. Despite his concerns, his need for you took over. The wildness of that encounter had fueled many late night fantasies since then. You squeeze your thighs together, the wine and flashback flood you with need.

The driver's side door swings open, causing you to jump upward when Spencer drops into the car.

"Are you doing okay?" He asks, his demeanor is already different now that the two of you are alone.

"Mhmm," you answer as the car begins to move. From the way you're laying in the seat, you have a perfect view of his features.

His hair is perfectly tousled, his jaw line extra sharp tonight somehow, and those perfect lips...

"'Wanna kiss you," you murmur. You don't know why you said it but when his tongue darts out to moisten his lips, you start to wonder why you didn't say it sooner.

"We shouldn't," he shakes his head. You frown and sit up in the back seat. He looks over his shoulder. "I don't think Hotch scheduling that mandatory fraternization training for the team was just a coincidence."

"I know we don't really believe in coincidences but those training's are required annually, Spence," you sigh and place your hands on his shoulders. He lolls his head back briefly but keeps his eyes straight forward.

"It's only been four months and thirteen days since the last one," he reasons. That was true, you probably should be concerned. Even so, the wine was clouding your judgement and the way he looked tonight was torture.

You groan because you know his concerns are valid.

"With the consent to monitor, we could already be under investigation if they suspect something," he sighs. You can hear the pain in his voice because he knows he needs to keep things strictly professional.

"Hotch wouldn't do that. He would just ask us. You know that," you reason. It was true. Your team was a family, he would confront it head on instead of underhandedly.

He seems to weigh the logic and then accept it. It makes you feel better in your line of reasoning.

"You know it's better if we don't," he says as he parks the car outside of your house.

"I know," you nod. But when he turns back to look at you, his defenses are down. His pleading eyes devour you and the air charges. "But you can't look at me like that, Spence," you say and grip his tie.

You bring your lips to his, your grip on him keeping him in place. He groans into the kiss and then his tongue slips into your mouth. You adjust in the seat to deepen the kiss. Lust burns between you and his hand is in your hair, keeping you locked close just like you're desperately doing to him.

He breaks the kiss, eyes searching yours briefly before getting out of the car. He hurriedly opens your door. You giggle when he takes your hand, long legs taking quick strides to your door.

You fumble with the keys and finally get the door unlocked. He kicks it closed behind him, his blazer the first thing you push off of him. His tie is loose and he seems like he can't get it off fast enough as he jerks it over his head.

He stumbles into you, focused on getting his hands on you. He kisses you roughly, messily. You don't care, you grip his hair as he picks you up and you wrap your legs around his waist.

"You looked perfect tonight," he groans between needy kisses.

You rip open his dark purple button down with a moan and begin to attack his neck with your mouth. He pins you against the wall, his erection teasing your clit through your clothes. You've never hated clothes more.

"I need you," you plead and push his shirt off of his shoulders as his hands explore your waist.

His bare chest and body against yours is heady and you run your nails down his torso, eliciting a whimper from deep in his throat. Something about watching this beautiful man melt from a genius FBI agent into an animal blind with need was exhilarating.

"Fuck it," he drops you abruptly. His mind is made up, he's giving into this.

He spins you suddenly, forcing you to bend forward over the entryway table. He drags your pants and underwear down in one swift movement.

"Spencer," you giggle. He kicks your leg to make you widen your stance and you're panting. You look into the mirror in front of you and catch a glimpse of him undoing his belt while his eyes drink you in.

"You're going to watch yourself," he grips your hair. His cock teases your entrance, causing you to moan. "You're going to see how pretty you look when you cum for me."

His words cause your stomach to tighten but you can't react because his cock is inside of you, stretching you wide for him. You drop your head but he grips your hair and forces your eyes back up to the mirror.

Your eyes meet his and he's lost in the feeling of being inside of you. His own head lolls back briefly and he exhales as he thrusts into you. The room fills with the filthy sounds of him pounding into you. His other hand digs into your hip while he keeps your head upright by your hair. You're forced to watch what he's doing and it's so hot.

His mouth has fallen open as he focuses his rhythm to meet your needs. You're pushing your hips back to meet him pound for pound which earns you a string of curses from his delicious mouth. Part of you can't help but think of how much trouble both of you would be in if Hotch found out. It makes everything so much more thrilling, so much more risky.

He's dragging you closer to your orgasm with every thrust, every nerve inside of you being stroked by the head of his cock. You can feel the shape of him, the girth as your body opens up for him.

"Harder baby," you moan and place your hand on the mirror to brace yourself. He does as he's told with a pleased moan. You shudder as your climax barrels through you.

"Fuck," he moans. "Look at you," he whimpers.

You look up as you tighten and explode around his cock. Your face is red, your breasts pressed into the table, your eyes are blown wide, and you're biting down on your bottom lip.

"So pretty cumming for me," he slows his rhythm and tortuously takes his time sliding in and out of you. He knows you're extra sensitive post orgasm and he wants to make you feel so good.

"Ah, Spence," you moan and hike your leg up onto the table. He approves and is able to fuck you deeper, harder with the new angle. He does just that until you're screaming his name.

"This is so bad, were so bad," you moan which only prompts him to fuck you harder because he agrees.

"Fuck," he shudders as he comes apart inside of you. The feeling pulls another orgasm out of you, and has you digging your nails into the wood of the table.

"Oh my God," you whimper as you both finish cumming together.

It's so good. Too good. You drop your head into your hands, breathing frantically while he pulls out of you. Goddamn. The feeling of his cum dripping out of you is always so fucking hot.

He pulls you into him and kisses you softly. He exhales with a similar relief that you feel. Two weeks without him was far too long.

"You are incredible," he tells you, his eyes seemingly heavy with relaxation.

You kiss him again and lay your head on his chest as he pulls you into him.

"Stay the night," you plead. The two of you have never spent the night together, keeping things to a culmination of heated encounters.

"You know I can't," he frowns.

You nod, not sure why you asked. Your heart sinks at the thought of him leaving and you push it away.

"We have to try to keep this casual if not professional. If we start doing that, it complicates things further," he tells you.

You hug your arms to your chest and nod. You know he's right.

"Yeah, I know," you say quietly.

He pulls his shirt back on and begins buttoning it. You go ahead and pull your own pants back on. His phone rings, drawing you out of your conflicting thoughts and feelings.

"Reid," he answers. "What?" He turns to you with wide eyes. "Nothing is... Garcia," he groans and runs his hand through his hair. "They weren't hers. You're not making sense..." he becomes frantic.

You try to ask him to put it on speaker but he shakes his head.

"She got sick... it's not like that," he's trying to play it casual.

You know in that moment... Penelope figured it out and she's not even a profiler.

Fuck.

A/N; imagine your own era of Reid ;) These gifs give a variety haha

[clairdelunelove]

I just know that itadori yuuji would be the guy on the beach that you get a glimpse of and never forget. 

what started out as a summer trip planned by friends turned into more of a self-care day that you all could share. to take a break from the usual, mundane cycle of school and work. just a pause to relax due to the rare occasion you all can clear your schedules to enjoy your youth. to have a little fun. to breathe in some fresh air and soak up some sun. you weren’t expecting a flawless trip; in fact, you kept your expectations pretty low and didn’t stress too much about the logistics. nothing too hectic. thus, when it was a blazingly hot day with not a single cloud scattered across the cerulean sky and the wind was perfect– traveling to the beach was a no-brainer. so after packing a few essentials you all hit the road. the car ride was a jumble of upbeat, carefree music and all the radio’s top tracks. with the car’s windows rolled down, your group of friends zealously croon all the wrong lyrics with pride and erupt in laughter when people from other cars stare a bit too intently. bright, mirthful smiles on all your faces in hopes of making new memories with this trip. just a good time, overall. 

so imagine your surprise when your friends assign you to unpack the beach chairs from the car and drag them over to the designated spot. in their defense, it’s a beautiful spot. the ideal blend of shade and dazzling sunlight since it’s right underneath the beach’s main cove. it overlooks golden sand that’s bordered by the water’s white foam due to the spilling waves that caress the shoreline. not to mention that the water is superbly tepid, the right temperature that has your friends sighing in content. it’s the hangout spot that anyone would treasure for the day. extraordinarily so, that your friends immediately grab a handful of items (towels, bags, etc.) from the car’s trunk and quickly dash to claim it. leaving you to haul the heavier pieces by yourself.

“guys! seriously?” you rhetorically ask, aware that your voice wasn’t going to reach them from how far they were. 

a heavy exhale leaves your lips as you continue to heave the obnoxiously colored chairs across the sand. you suppose that this was probably the best option, though. the beach already had a handful of people scattered along the stretch of land and it was bound to get busier by the second. but the heft of the chairs, coupled with your need to briskly catch up to your friends, proved to be more responsibility than you can manage. it happens abruptly. before your grip on the aluminum handles slip, a heavy hand descends to alleviate the extra weight and you’re face-to-face with the most attractive stranger you’ve ever laid your eyes on. 

“need a hand?” 

and a part of you wishes to blurt that you might need more than just his hand. because he’s stunning– in the way that causes your face to warm as your eyes drag along his physique. his skin is glowy like he’s grazed by sunlight itself and brushed with freckles that you yearn to trace your fingers over. his hair is a blushy, vibrant shade that creates a halo behind him and emphasizes his boyish charm. and his smile, the one that good-naturedly curves along his lips, is blinding as he regards you. he’s clad in a white tank top and swim trunks, although, you’ve never quite seen such prominent dips of muscle despite him being completely covered up.

you stutter out your gratitude, too occupied with furiously bowing your head to notice how his gaze shifts to do an inquisitive once-over. and he already knows he’s in trouble. you’re oh so pretty; big, sparkly eyes and glossy lips. a voice that sounds like someone slowly plucking the strings of a violin. soft skin that gleams. his dream girl. knocks the wind out of his chest and he discreetly clears his throat in order to speak. 

“don’t worry ‘bout it,” he mentions while drawing a finger to bashfully swipe at his nose, “just didn’t wanna see such a pretty girl in distress.” 

and you can already tell he’s sickeningly sweet. not like the type that you usually run into when you’re strolling through the city streets. no, you were certain that he wasn’t from around here. probably stored away in a faraway town that you’d never have the chance to visit. after all, the boys that pursued you were accustomed to low effort and unkept promises. not him, however.

hands raised in alarm, he hastily tries to correct his overly blunt compliment and you’re left giggling at his dismay. 

“the ball, dude!” 

a group of athletic males, you assume they’re the stranger’s friends, holler at him as they point to the volleyball that rolled beside you. must’ve been launched over when you were focused on the attractive stranger. you awkwardly shift your feet. of course, all good things must come to an end. too much heaven is bound to make a person selfish. but this was almost too quick for you to thoroughly enjoy. he remains unmoving despite his friends’ chiding for him to come back so they can resume their game. almost reluctant. his gaze deviates to the ball and then goes back to you. a glimmer in his disheartened eyes. 

you glance over, shyly smiling at his unwillingness to hurry back to them, “I think they’re waiting for you.” 

and that breaks him out of stupor. he bites his lower lip, seemingly debating, and promptly utters another apology. quips about how impatient they are over a silly game of beach volleyball. muttering about how they had all day to play. the words spill out of his mouth. reasoning to explain the short-lived encounter. and you can’t help but swoon because he has such a boyish charm to him. 

yet, before you can take your leave, the blushy-haired male blurts, “can you give me a second?” 

“please.” 

recognizes that he’s got you hook, line, and sinker when you press your lips together with an appeased nod. you’re fighting off the beginnings of a smile as he visibly perks up at your response. like a dog finally rewarded with a treat after a session of training. he scoops up the volleyball, eagerly tosses it back to his friends, and mentions for them to not wait up for him. doesn’t bat an eye to how the ball whizzes past them and into the sea. never thought twice about his appalling strength.

and he’s giddy now. all dizzying grins and flighty movements. it's almost too adorable. accidentally brushes against your hand as he’s walking and hastily pulls away like he’d been burned. visibly gulps when you teasingly smooth your hand over his shoulder. and his eyes flutter in desperation when your fingers gently card along his soft hair. though, his eyes never leave yours. they're the perfect shade of liquid honey. makes you reminisce of apricot trees and apple pies. set in determination to etch you into his mind. you'll be in his memory forever. and it’s mushy and gentle. you never want this day to end. 

yuuji ends up carrying all your beach chairs in one strong hand. wasn’t too inclined to accept your compliments for his strength but he does notice how your gaze often drifts to the apparent veins on his forearms. he never comments on it, however. just causes him to puff up in pride when he offers you his other arm and you hold onto it for stability (or so he believes). such a pretty sight as you waltz in the sand and throw him an overjoyed smile when you pick up sparkling seashells. you’re completely satiated. an unexpected surprise during the lax, summery trip. a drop of saccharine that sent his dull world plummeting into the deepest depths of the very sea that you pranced along. and if your friends notice the rather recent and charming addition to their group, one that hangs upon your every word– they don’t mention it.

at least now they have someone to carry all their heavy stuff for them. 

[laurfilijames]

Flat To Filled

Pairing: Jax Teller x female reader

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Tig being a bit of a perv. Oral sex (M receiving). Unprotected intercourse. Sex in exchange for a service.

Summary: Your flat tire turns out to be a very happy nuisance, and a scene right out of a porno.

A/N: I got a flat tire a couple of months ago and came up with this idea while waiting for it to be repaired, though sadly not by Jax Teller.

---

"You've got to be fucking kidding," you mumbled under your breath, seeing the low tire pressure light illuminate on your dash.

It didn't seem like that long ago you had finished paying off the loan used to purchase the new set of tires, and as you put your car in park and climbed out of the driver's seat, you prayed it just needed some air and wasn't completely flat.

"Fuck."

The tire was smooshed right against the hot asphalt, and crouching down to run your hand along the circumference of the wheel, your fingers caught on a screw buried into the rubber.

At least you weren't rushing anywhere in particular, you thought, having only been on your way to grab yourself a coffee from the cafe in downtown Charming, laughing in realizing the irony in the situation that you were meant to be saving money anyway. The silver lining was that your flat just so happened to take place about two minutes down the road from Teller-Morrow Automotive Repair, and with the sun shining and feeling pleasantly warm on your skin, you didn't necessarily mind going for a walk.

The gates of the entrance were open as you approached, the yard full of Harley's and various members of the nefarious motorcycle club along with some vehicles actually being repaired by mechanics, your presence quickly being noticed by everyone in the vicinity.

"And how can I help you, sweetheart?" a man with black, curly hair and soul-piercing blue eyes drawled, his pervy tone making you grin and tilt your head in amusement as he stood straight from leaning over his bike and puffed his chest out, his hands securing themselves on his belt to help draw your attention to his crotch.

"I have a flat," you began to explain, hooking your thumb over your shoulder in the direction of where your car sat abandoned on the road. "I was hoping someone could take a look and hopefully patch it."

"Yeah, probably, but there's something else I can definitely help you with."

"Jesus Christ, Tig," another man's voice sounded from inside the garage. "Stop preying on innocent people."

The sight of the man defending you made your heart leap into your throat, and suddenly the mid-afternoon sun wasn't the cause of the sheen of sweat growing on your skin.

Messy, blond hair that rested at his shoulders surrounded his gorgeous face like a halo, and if the blue eyes on the first man were anything to admire, his were like looking into an abyss that would swallow you whole.

He didn't shy away from looking you over up and down, a crooked smile dressing his lips that were surrounded by scruffy, bleached stubble, his smile only spreading more to create lines around his mouth when his friend walked past him and slapped his shoulder.

"See, told ya."

He strutted into the garage while still looking back at you obviously, nearly tripping over his own feet, leaving you and the living incarnation of Helios standing somewhat awkwardly.

He nodded his head behind you, "So, what's wrong?"

"Just a flat. There's a screw in it. I was hoping someone would have time to patch it for me."

"Yeah, let me take a look," he grinned again, squinting slightly from the bright sunlight as he wiped his oily hands on a rag he held.

You took note of his slender fingers and how rough and worked yet soft the skin on his hands looked, curious as to what else they were capable of, and how the way the large rings that adorned them enhanced the appeal to feel them on your body even more.

"Is it just down the road?" he asked, beginning to walk over to the wall where a bunch of keys were hung on hooks.

"Yeah, about two minutes," you confirmed, remaining in place.

He held a set of keys up and tossed them up in the air before catching them, "I'll go give it a lift, then. You can wait here if you want. Despite your first impressions they're all pretty harmless."

His smile had you nearly bursting into flames, and holding out your own keys for him to take, your fingers brushed each other, igniting even more heat within your body.

He winked at you as he walked confidently over to the tow truck parked on the far side of the row of bikes, allowing you the opportunity to eye-fuck him just as he had you minutes ago.

Even with how baggy his jeans sat on his lower half, you could tell he had a perfectly plump ass that would no doubt power some hammering thrusts, and his back and arms were shaped nicely by strong muscles that showed through his t-shirt and mechanic's shirt that had the sleeves torn off, making you bite your lip as you thought how this unfortunate event was proving to be anything but.

It didn't take long for him to return with your car being pulled behind the tow truck, flashing you another smile as he hung his left arm out the window, a cigarette hanging from his inviting lips.

You watched the production as a few other mechanics went over and began helping him, the assistance he received allowing opportunities for glances your way, his silent flirting making you flush and shift on your feet.

Within minutes the tire was off and being carried into the bay of the garage, and as he got closer to you, you were able to see the name embroidered in black thread on the right side of his chest.

Jax.

You mouthed it, the whisper of those three letters feeling like silk on your tongue, and you wondered how saying it out loud and on repeat in the throes of pleasure would make him react; all smiles and that boyish confidence shining brightly as he basked in your praise, or a brutal and claiming side coming to reveal itself after being encouraged by your mantra.

He slammed your tire down on the workbench closest to the door and wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, smearing dirt and grime across it, and gave you a smile and a nod as he parted those luscious lips and started talking.

"So, you from around here?"

"Yup," you confirmed, placing your hands in the back pockets of your shorts to force your chest out a little further.

He hummed as he started to work, "I would've remembered a pretty face like yours."

"Do you say that to all the girls you help?"

Jax shook his head, his eyebrows rising on his forehead to crease it. "Nope."

He looked completely innocent despite it being a blatant lie that he could barely get away with, and you knew that was exactly how a man like him was likely to get everything he wanted.

"Well, I really appreciate you dropping whatever else you were in the middle of to sort me out," you thanked. "Jax…" you added, his name sounding sinful from how lusty your voice suddenly became.

He tucked his bottom lip in his teeth, smiling big even with the restriction, his eyes dancing and alight with mischief as his hands paused what he was doing.

"My pleasure."

His words were spoken with such conviction, as well as what you hoped was a promise or at least a hint at a request, and for whatever reason, the more you were in his presence and talking to him, the more daring and confident you felt yourself becoming.

"Is it?" you asked, watching as he leaned against the workbench, his forearms flexing and showing off the tattoo decorating his right one, his glare serious and almost threatening while his lips continued to feign innocence.

"I think it's going to be."

Time passed too quickly for your liking, your very effortless and charged conversations with Jax tempting you into driving the pocket knife that you kept tucked away in your purse into one of your other tires just so you could spend more time with him; his efficient handy-work resulting in your tire being back on your car and good as new in the fastest forty-two minutes of your life.

“You're all set there, darlin’,” he drawled, squinting at you in the beaming sun with a crooked grin as he wiped his hands on the rag he pulled back out of his jeans.

“Looks like it. Thank you.”

“You have somewhere you need to be?” he asked, leaning against your car comfortably.

“Not necessarily,” you answered, part of you praying he would extend an invitation to something that involved you staying longer and having those lips that were still curled into a smile pressed against yours. They were perfectly shaped and full and impossible to stop admiring, and the fantasy of learning how good they would feel refused to quit playing in your mind, deeming him a talented kisser without even knowing.

"How much do I owe you?" you asked, the assumption that this repair would cost the equivalent of at least twenty of those speciality coffees you were on your way to getting making a pit settle in your stomach.

His bottom lip tucked between his teeth and he chewed on it while still managing to grin mischievously, the brightness of it reaching his eyes.

"I think we can work something out."

You swore you had to be dreaming, finding yourself being led through Samcro's clubhouse and down a hallway where you were continuously stopped to be pressed against the wall and kissed until you were breathless, the sound of your bodies slamming against the wood panels and your shared laughs drowning out the loud music coming from the common area.

It always felt good to be right, you thought, your speculations that Jax knew how to kiss exceptionally well turning out to be more than correct, the way his tongue claimed your mouth and his lips sealed against yours making you quickly abandon all morals and sense of reality.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as he walked backwards with you into a room, the scent of stale smoke mixed with a bit of weed overpowering the hint of cologne that lingered, and once inside, Jax pushed the door shut and shoved you up against it.

He slowly peeled his face away from yours, taking a deep, steadying breath, his eyes trailing from your chest up to your lust-drunk eyes while his arms braced on either side of you to cage you between him and the door.

"We do accept cash, too," he smirked, his smile growing when you laughed and shook your head.

"I'm afraid I don't have any on me…"

"See that's too bad," he said, his tone falsely serious. "Non-paying customers tend to get fucked in a situation like this…"

The emphasis and double-meaning he put on that one sinful word made you ache and visibly squirm, and you did your best to keep your hands to yourself while you waited for him to move first, only to fail miserably.

You gripped at the edges of his gray mechanics shirt at the same time your mouth crashed against his, peeling it off his arms with his help as you walked forward, forcing him backward into the middle of the room where he ran into a chair, causing both of you to laugh between kisses.

Next came his somehow still freshly white t-shirt, the pure glee that overcame you when you whisked it over his head and laid eyes on his smooth skin and impressively ripped torso making you feel dizzy, and trying to get to the rest of him as quickly as you could, you hurried to unbuckle his belt and send his jeans that were already half-way down his ass to the floor.

You glared at him hungrily as you reached out for his hard cock that strained against his loose boxers that managed to be an even brighter white than his shirt, and stroked it through the cotton appreciatively, watching his head tip slightly back and his eyes close as he succumbed to your touch.

"Fuck," he chuckled, his abs contracting as he did, hooking his thumbs in the waist of his trunks to get rid of them.

"May I?" you asked, the innocence in your request contrasting heavily to how impurely you were looking at him.

"Since you asked nicely," he drawled, holding his hands up away from his body to allow you to do whatever you wanted.

With an excited and satisfied grin, you tugged on his shorts, your mouth instantly watering as his cock sprung free from them and bounced wildly before you, his size and girth and perfectly veiny shaft confirming that the man standing proudly naked before you was utterly perfect.

"Like what you see, darlin'?"

Rather than answering, you wrapped one hand behind his neck and pulled him into you, kissing him madly and desperately while your other hand took hold of his silky flesh and pumped him slowly from tip to base, feeling him flex in your palm.

You basked in this for a couple of minutes until Jax regained control and guided you somewhat forcefully over to lean against the edge of the desk that sat against the wall, his thigh wedging between yours as he gathered your wrists in his one hand and held them up over your head, his other one left to trail up your side, pulling your shirt up along with it.

His mouth attacked your neck while he teased you, the sensation making you roll your hips on his thigh to get some friction on your needy pussy, and when he growled as he got to your breasts that you hadn't bothered to restrict in a bra today, you nearly came undone.

"Fuck, you're hot," he muttered, roughly tearing up your shirt to remove it from you, and he took a moment to appreciate the sight in front of him before diving to your mouth again, his hand squeezing at the fullness of your chest and pinching your nipple between his fingers.

You whined into his mouth and arched your back in order to get closer to his touch, your body begging to be used by him in any way possible, this self-made porno you were suddenly living out making you hornier than you've ever been before.

"Are you gonna fuck me, or what?" you asked, his keen attention making you feel bold and powerful.

He chuckled and shook his head, his blond locks moving with the action.

"Patience, darlin'. You need to remember who's paying who here."

You nodded and smirked, pushing off the edge of the desk to take hold of his cock again while you slowly sank to your knees, looking up at him through your lashes to see a very satisfied and eager look on his face.

Pressing your lips against his smooth tip, you spread the precum that leaked from it across them and stuck your tongue out, that first delectably salty taste of him making you swallow thickly as your mouth watered, your thirst for him skyrocketing. You gripped the base of his shaft as you eased him inside your mouth, taking him slowly inch by inch until you reached your hand and your nose was tickled by his flaxen hairs.

Bobbing on and off of his length and swirling your tongue around his head each time you passed it, you worked him steadily with your hand, the sound of his appreciative curses and groans making you squirm and shift on your knees and moan as well, taking him deep into your throat so he could feel the vibrations on your windpipe.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he hissed. "That's it, baby."

His praise sent a shiver down your spine, making your nipples harden even more in addition to you gagging on him each time he pounded the back of your throat, the way he bucked his hips and lightly held your head in place encouraging you to want to be wrecked by him in whatever way he saw fit.

He laughed in disbelief as he gently held your chin and told you to stop, mad at himself for doing it, but not ready to end this with you yet.

"Fuck, you're good. That pretty little mouth of yours sure has some talent," he purred, using his thumb to wipe the corner of your mouth.

"Then you should've let me finish…"

Jax chuckled again as he helped you up off the floor, a sound that made you melt each time, his eyes shining with a playfulness that matched his cheeky smile.

"Oh, no," he said, his eyebrows creeping up his forehead. "Your debt isn't going to be repaid that easily."

Your breathing became shallow as the way he looked at you turned from kind and light-hearted to intense and almost dark, and he grabbed your face and kissed you roughly, stealing your breath from you as he leaned into you in an overpowering way, his cock poking you and reminding you of its impressive size that you were about to have to try to handle.

He snuck a hand between your heaving bodies, cupping between your legs where an intense heat radiated, and began to rub your pussy through your shorts with a taunting pressure.

"This pussy's gonna feel good, isn't it?" he asked, dragging his hand harder over the material that kept you from him, the whole act and his question driving you mad. "I bet it's nice and tight…"

"Fuck, yes…" you whined, grinding against his hand even more, your head tipping to the side in an offering for him to kiss your neck.

He did, granting you one of your many wishes, sucking and nipping at the tender skin where your pulse hammered frantically.

After another minute or two of torture, you raked your nails up along his back, feeling desperate for him to give you what you so badly needed.

"Please, Jax," you begged. "I'm so wet."

He pulled away from your neck, kissing your swollen lips sloppily as he removed his hand from between your legs.

"Yeah? Lemme see, sweetheart…"

With deft fingers he ripped open the button on your shorts and tugged them down your thighs aggressively, his pupils blown wide when he noticed how your slick had darkened your panties and soaked them through completely, the corner of his lips curling upward menacingly.

He leaned in and kissed you again, a little sweeter this time, a display of his appreciation for how ready you were for him and how much he was enjoying this game with you.

That only lasted for so long though, the more he danced his tongue with yours the more he felt completely out of control, the need to drive his cock into you coming to the forefront of his mind once again just as it had since the minute he met you.

He released your cheeks from his gentle hold and used both of them to grab onto the side of your thong, tearing them off of you barbarically, the sound of ripping cotton making both of you more feral than before.

You sat up on the desk, holding his head to keep him kissing you as he settled between your legs, his cock nudging your inner thigh dangerously close to your center. It was all heavy, panting breaths and the sound of teeth clashing together as you went at each other furiously, your fingers making a tangled mess out of those gorgeous blond tresses, your nails no doubt leaving red scratches all over his pale skin.

With a sharp inhale to catch his breath, Jax broke the messy seal of your lips enough to look down at you naked and spread beneath him, slipping his fingers slowly through your wet folds to gather your slick on his fingertips, admiring you before slamming them inside you deep enough that his rings prevented him from going any further, pumping in and out before hooking them to massage your g-spot.

Your cries filled the room, the build-up to this making everything feel more intense than you could bear, your hips moving to meet the tempo of his hand enthusiastically and instinctively.

"You want that dick?" Jax asked breathlessly, his cock throbbing and ready to explode if he held off any longer, the sensation of your pussy clenching his fingers and coating them with your juices making it worse.

He was always diligent about wrapping up when it came to sleeping with new chicks, but something about you made him want to bury his bare cock deep inside you and drive into you again and again, the thought of seeing your cunt leaking with his load sending him into a fury.

"Yes…fuckkkk!" you screamed, your consent barely past your lips as he pushed into you, stretching you out over his thick girth.

A shuddered breath escaped your lips as you sought to adjust to his size, Jax giving you no mercy as he immediately started hammering into you with ruthless force.

By the time he had rammed himself into the deepest part of you, you were both so close to falling apart, not taking long to get each other right back to the edge where you had been left hanging, the rhythm chosen by him and matched by you one that was sure to put this desk through the wall in no time.

It shook precariously beneath you, and it seemed the threat of breaking the damn thing only spurred Jax on more, his brutal thrusts increasing as he worked even harder to ruin you.

His skin became slippery as he began to work up a sweat, your hands gliding over his shoulders and up the column of his neck as you tried to hold on to him as best you could.

His praise at how good you felt was broken up by a variety of curses, the way he sounded as he got so lost in you making the pressure in your core erupt rapidly, and you strangled his cock through your release, soaking him enough for you to hear the lewd squelching through your mind-numbing euphoria.

"Fuck!" he roared, his last thrusts slowing in pace as you coaxed out his end, his cock pulsing inside your choking walls and filling you up with his hot cum in vicious spurts.

His sweaty hair was stuck to his forehead as he leaned it against yours, chuckling while he fought to catch his breath.

"That was…"

"Yeah…" you panted, hardly able to believe just how incredible it was, your whole body tingling and alive with pleasure.

He smiled against your lips before kissing you sweetly, humming into your mouth while he remained inside you, wanting to relish in the after effects for as long as he could.

You made out until he eventually slipped from you, the loss making you whine and you both to slowly cease your kisses.

“I've never done anything like this before,” you admitted, feeling totally liberated in your behaviour as you watched his sweaty, naked, and absolutely perfect form step away from you, his smile beaming at you once again.

He winked at you, “Me neither," and ran a hand through his hair to try to fix the mess you had made of it.

“For some reason I don't believe that," you chided, tilting your head as you remained in your spot, his cum starting to drip out of you.

“You shouldn't," he purred, strutting back over to you, his eyes fixed between your legs where you could tell by his expression that he enjoyed what he saw.

He held your waist, his head tipping to the side as he looked down at you, his voice low and lusty when he spoke.

"Still have nowhere to be?"

---

Taglist:

@sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls @littlenosoul @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90 @paintlavillered @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989 @theesirenteller

I went ahead and tagged everyone I have written down for my Charlie/Will Miller taglist so my apologies if you're not interested in being tagged in Jax fics and I will happily add or remove anyone as they wish!

[cynarisgayass]

Sorry for lack of post, work has been absolutely kicking my ass, so I'll drop these little low effort headcannons I came up with after doing the newest genshin event. GN fairy reader. Slight spoilers??

Also to the person who sent in your Zzz request I promise I will work on it soon. Forgive me.

Wanderer:

He's very much the type of guy who even though he thinks of you as the gorgeous forest fairy, he's not gonna say it to your face. He will show up when you need help and act all reluctant about doing things for you even though he enjoys them. Then one day out of nowhere he will be staring at you and just accidentally blurt out what he's feeling like, "You're beautiful sunshine."

Then we all die.

Navia:

Girl literally calls you her partner and would die for you, so to say she'd be the type to compliment you with no shame is a understatement. The two of you would be walking through the paper woods and she would just go, "By the way, I just thought I'd tell you how much I appreciate you and all you have done for me. You truly have my heart, partner." And then she'd wink at you as your face turned bright red.

Kazuha:

Why's he here? Cause I like him shush. Anyways, forest fairies are a great source of inspiration for poems yeah, but he'd also want to draw you as well. Combine both his word building of your powers and beauty along with a image that he says could never truly capture the wonder that you are, but give those who look at it a glimpse. Then he'd ask if you wanted to sit under a paper tree and share bulle fruits with the flying squirrels.

Diluc:

Lets be honest, he wouldn't believe you at first. Forest fairy? Not real. Then he'd look around him, see the paper forest and probably have a little mini panic attack without moving a single muscle or looking any different on the outside. He'd eventually loosen up after you explain things and I don't know why, but I totally see him dancing with a fairy reader. If it helps the forest...he will oblige, albeit reluctantly.

Alhaitham:

Wouldn't be fazed in the slightest. Couldn't actually care less that he's in a different world, he's read fairytales before, he's seen what visions can do so it's no shock to him. You however, kinda surprise him. Normally he's always nonchalant about others, but you...he doesn't mind letting you sit with him while he reads. He doesn't even mind helping you when you need him too, his ways of romancing are subtle, but sweet.

Damn, actually wrote alot of these. I wanna do this again with more time and I'm also hungering to write some smut too so whenever I'm not struggling to stay awake after work I'll be posting more~

[kissforyouu]

Can you write a drabble of oc surprising jk with a new tattoo. I’d picture she’d get something cute like a peach or a bunny idkkk but she’d definitely have something small and dainty. She’d probably put it somewhere where only Jk could see too🤭

oc is not that much into tattoos, but she'd sometimes use temporary tattoos on herself and show jk. he'd just keep asking her over and over "when are you getting a real oneeee". he completely doesn't mind tattoos on oc at all, considering how tatted up he is too. but when oc actually does get a tattoo...

"jungkook!" you shout from across his living room, excitedly skipping your way through. he yells back from his room, surprised that you came over. you didn't even tell him beforehand. your boyfriend exits his room to have you jump on his body right after, hugging the man like the world was going to end right now.

you hug him really tight, swaying him from side to side. "hi, baby!" your voice was high pitched as you placed kisses all over your boyfriend's cheek. he loved whenever you acted like this. kisses were his favourite. jungkook liked to get pampered by you a lot. even though he'll probably never admit to it.

"hi, sweetheart." his smile was big and bright, probably even starting to hurt his face at this point. you let go of his body, finally freeing him.

"i got tatted." bombshell.

"like, tatted for real? not temporary?"

"nope! actual tattoo, look."

jungkook was surprised. you swore to yourself to never actually get a proper tattoo because you were afraid that later you might regret it. but you actually did it? okay, where is it? what type of tattoo? jungkook was thrilled.

but the moment you bent over and to strip down, jungkook's draw fully drops. shit. you had a sly smirk on your face, fully aware of what you were doing as you discarded your pants. there revealed your black lace panties.

"here." you turn around your upper body to point at the small (very small) red heart tattoo on your ass cheek. it was right below your waist near your hips. cute, he thought. very small though, very. but jungkook wasn't surprised at how small it was. the little tattoo complimented your ass well, and your whole personality itself. it suits you. but it wasn't the tattoo that had him mermerised, it was definitely your ass. lol.

ever since then, man's been obsessed with doggy style just to see your dainty tattoo bounce on his cock over and over again. he makes sure kiss it every time whenever you guys had sex. the obsession was real.

in addition to that little tattoo was another dainty heart but this time on the side of your middle finger and some other sparkles. and not necessarily a tattoo, but a belly piercing you got when you were around 16 and (totally legal!) a bunch of other piercings in your ears.

taglist : @fungie2332 @wintertxt @wheexine @hyunjinswifeee @ohsweetmimosa @canyon-txt @kooreo @rrosiitas @goldenjeonkoo