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ser-rctslcyer · 2 years

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Title: Gaudy Decks & Gamblers Notes: Divider by @/firefly-graphics (the playing cards set)@/firefly-graphics Word Count: 872 Warnings: fluff, soft William Tell, William stimming with his card deck absentmindedly, mentions of Cirk (who is alive), mentions of La Linda as well but nothing implying any romantic attachment William teasing you for getting another gaudy deck, coffee drinking, eating breakfast, this is just soft & cute banter

“Again?” he teases rolling his eyes affectionately from behind his mug of freshly brewed 8am coffee. He looks comfortable in his gray sweatshirt, and his hair isn’t as smooth as it usually is—he’s been gelling it less & less since you like his curls. He’s got his traditional deck of cards splayed on the diner table a smile dancing on his features even though he’s trying his best to subdue it.

You, on the other hand, have a brand new deck all gaudy & black with intricate designs “I think they’re pretty.” you protest & he brings his hands up in surrender. Truth be told he doesn’t mind them all that much but he’ll be damned if he ever admits that to you–especially now

“Gaudy decks don’t win games, Day-Day.” he chimes exasperatedly

“That’s because you’ve used the same deck for years.” he hums nodding sagely as if he’s mocking you—which is absolutely is but it’s all in good fun. You nudge his foot with your own earning a chuckle from him as he mimics the action like a child playing under the table at family dinner “--besides, you like my decks. You just don’t wanna admit it!” he hums at that sipping his coffee thoughtfully as if trying to put you on edge

“Hm?” he pipes to the friendly waitress that smiles at you both before he can make a comment to you. You both order your breakfast–well–Will orders for the both of you out of his subconscious habit to protect & keep you safe. Once that’s all said & done though you’re back to eyeing him as he gives you a look of something between confusion & mock anguish “You have your decks & I have mine.” he concedes

“You like my decks, don’t you?” you challenge & he shrugs sipping from his topped-off coffee—blatantly ignoring you “I’ll make you admit it one-day ~!” you tease & he hums thick in his throat at that

“I’m sure you will, love.” one of the few nicknames he uses for you & you alone is love—you’ll never get over how it sounds rolling off his tongue.

Carefully you both put your decks back where they belong so they don’t get ruined by the plates of hot food resting before you. It looks divine & smells even better as you dig in still mildly determined to make Will admit to liking your decks—something he will refuse to do until the day he dies.

“How’s Cirk?” you ask behind your own mug of coffee & he hums taking out his phone to see if he’s gotten any messages this morning

“He’s in Chicago with La Linda.” he states absently as his fingers tap away to answer something Cirk asked him thirty minutes ago “--gambling tournament.”

“Wanna go?” you ask both out of wanting to see Will in his element & out of wanting to see the friends he talks so much about

“If you’d like to.”

“I would.”

He sends a text to La Linda asking if any private matches are being played to which she says yes & thusly invites him as a walk-in. He smiles at that still not fully used to having friends that care so much about him “She says there are private games, I’ll b doing those.” you nod excitedly–you always love his private matches.

“Think we can make it?” you hum still eating your food

“Mhm, we’re only…” he trails checking his maps app “...two hours away & we’re packed already.” you beam brightly at him & he swears his heart just did a backflip in his chest. He isn’t used to this either–used to you—he’s still grappling with the fact that after everything he’s done you still chose him over everyone else. Time & time again you find him when his mind drags him down into the Hellish torment of his past, time & time again you hold him & you kiss him until he feels better—he’ll never get used to it he thinks.

“I’m excited to finally meet them in person!” you chime finishing the remainder of your coffee. He doesn’t say anything to that now that he’s finally eating, sipping coffee, & scrolling through the private games at the venue La Linda directed him to—so in his element as always. You could watch him for hours & oftentimes you do unless you’re in his lap or sitting directly beside him as his perfect good luck charm. “Ready to go?” he asks & you nod having been ready thirty minutes ago. He pays the bill before guiding you to his car–always the gentleman–& sliding in after you.

“I know you like my deck~” you tease & he groans putting his sunglasses over his eyes to ignore you. This is going to be a long car ride indeed but he’s not going to give up, he can play this game of trickery & chaos & he will prevail.

“Oh shut up.” he sighs as the car starts & you giggle at him knowing all too well that he’ll give into you by hour two. He always does & you always let him because for once Will is being given a chance at real life—a life with you.

KEKFJEKKD WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT!!!

IM SCREAMING!!! OH MY GOD HE JS JUST THE SOFTEST!!! HELLO SIR!!!!

HIM YSING MY NICKNAME I JUST 🥺🥺🥺🥺

PLZ I CAN HEAR HIM SAY JT AND ITS ALL J WANT AAAAAA

CURLY HAIRED WILLIAM SUPREMACY OMG HHHHHHHHH

THE TEASING, TGE SWEET SWEET BANTER I LIKE AAAAA TY FOR FEEDING ME SIR!!!

IM SO IN LOVE WITH HIM AAAAAA

#kit’s writing #loser’s circus of f/o’s #split the deck ❤️♠️

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bratfiction · 7 months

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18+ CONTENT — MDNI

loser, college!könig… like actual loser who barely knows how to talk to girls. but god, you’re so cute and small compared to him. he can smell your sweet perfume and has definitely, surely noticed how little your skirt is as you sway on your feet next to him, looking up with those glossy eyes of yours.

“what do you want?” oh. he’s as much of a brute as he looks, you’ve come to realize. straight to the point, a bit scary.

his eyes narrow while your mouth falls open but nothing comes out, your eyes are welling with tears and könig feels the need to roll his own while you blubber about how much help you need in the class you two share. you’re the only one that can help me; you sniffle pathetically, hoping it will persuade him into tutoring you in these trying times.

you’re seconds away from falling to your knees and pleading him— luckily you don’t have to because könig is holding out his phone, expecting you to add your number into his contacts. and of course you do while continuing to sniffle and babbling out thank you’s that he chooses to ignore.

“i’ll text you and we’ll figure it out,” he grumbles before leaving you where you stand in the hallway.

if only you knew that you’d end up bent over his desk a month later, curses falling from your lips with every thrust that shakes your entire frame and rattles his stupid PC monitors on his desk. your hands are planted on either side of his keyboard, trying your best not to accidentally slam your palms down on it in a cock-hungry haze.

you’re unsure of how he even managed to bully his way into your cunt in the first place. all you remember is that his head was under your skirt for at least an hour before you got this far, making you all messy with his spit as his fingers worked their magic inside your pretty cunt. “prettiest cunt i’ve ever seen,” könig made sure to tell you, before flattening his tongue in your folds and forcing your hips to grind down.

fuuuck, könig— you whimper tearfully. but at the same time you’re pushing your bum back to meet his thrusts, savoring the feeling of your cheeks being pressed flush against his hips every time as your back arches perfectly. könig squeezes your waist beneath his giant hands, but they end up cupping your tits eventually, squishing and squeezing to make you tremble even more in his hold.

truthfully he doesn’t know what’s come over him. doesn’t know where this sudden ability to pull orgasms out of such a cute dumb girl came from, especially with his limited but very valuable experience. however he does know that your cunt is heavenly and the way it squeezes him is better than any fleshlight he’s ever had, admittedly. enough to have him seeing white and throw his head back with a breathy groan every few seconds. he thinks he needs it every day.

you’ll be lucky if he lets you leave his dorm after this.

— want more loser, college! könig?

#⌨️.kit's writing #🤍.COD #🤍.loser!könig #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #cod mw2 smut #cod mwii smut #call of duty smut

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boyfriendstevie · 5 months

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sturdy

steve wants to test out the desk he just built for you | everyone say thank you @superblysubpar for encouraging me to write this hehe | 2.7k, f!reader, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv. don't do it kids. 18+ as always!! mdni!!

“Babe! C’mere!” Steve calls from the spare bedroom, echoing down the hall of your new apartment.

You’re in the kitchen, starting to unpack a few boxes there, while Steve had been working on putting together your new desk. Obviously, you’re more than capable of putting your own desk together, but Steve had offered, and, well, sometimes you have to make the patriarchy work for you. Placing the half-unpacked box of silverware onto the counter, you shout back a reply and head through the maze of boxes to the bedroom, “I’m comin’! Give me a sec!”

When you reach the bedroom, Steve’s standing in the middle of the room, hands on his hips as he looks at his handiwork. His back is to you, so he doesn’t notice when you come in, and you take a second to admire him. He’s quite the sight; wearing an old pair of gym shorts that are a bit too small for him, a well-worn shirt that might be yours — you’re not sure from this angle — and a baseball cap on backwards to keep his hair out of his face. He looks so good, and it hits you then, just how lucky you are. How lucky you are to be living with your ridiculously handsome boyfriend who offers to build things for you out of the kindness of his heart and looks ridiculously good while doing so.

“Hon—“ the word dies on his lips as he turns around to find you standing in the doorway. A grin stretches across his face at the sight of you, making your heart flutter in your chest. “You starin’ at me, stalker?”

“So what if I was?” you ask, crossing the room so you can throw your arms over his shoulders, “I can’t admire my hot boyfriend?”

A strong arm wraps around your waist to pull you close. He hums in thought before shrugging, “I’ll allow it, I guess. If you give me a kiss.”

“Deal,” you murmur as you lean up on your toes to press your lips to his in a soft kiss. It’s short and sweet, but you don’t mind. “Thanks for building the desk, baby.”

“Anything for you, honey,” he hums quietly in reply, dipping down one more time for a quick peck on the lips. His hand rubs over the curve of your hip gently as he adds, “Hopefully it’s sturdy enough…”

“Steve, I’m sure it’s fine, as long as you followed the directions—“

“Maybe we could test it out?” he asks, giving you a cheeky grin, eyebrows raised in question.

You snort a laugh, eyebrows furrowing together. You’re pretty sure you know what he’s getting at, but you ask anyway, “And how would we do that?”

His smile grows, looking a bit more mischievous as he turns you around and slowly begins walking you back towards the desk. You let him lead you, giggling with your hands on his shoulders, until you bump into the desk. He leans down to kiss you again, and just before your lips touch, he squeezes your hips and mutters, “Up, honey.”

It’s a messy kiss, your lips nearly missing Steve’s in the effort to get up onto the desk, even with him helping you up. You briefly wonder if this is safe — you have no doubt that Steve built the desk well, but you highly doubt that it’s made to support a whole human’s weight — but the thought quickly passes by when Steve takes your thighs into his hands and pulls you towards the edge of the desk for a proper kiss.

Steve’s nose nudges into yours, poking at your cheek as he kisses you, lips slotting against yours. He kisses you as if he hasn’t kissed you in days, groaning into your mouth as you rock your hips forward, searching for his touch. You let out a whine when his teeth nip at your bottom lip, tongue quickly following suit to soothe the bite.

“You know, I was— I was mostly kidding,” Steve pants when he pulls back between kisses, lips pink and wet as his tongue darts out.

“I know,” you reply with a huff of a laugh, twisting your fingers into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, “But you look so fucking hot, and you just built me a whole ass desk, and we fucking live together now, and— please just fuck me on the desk, baby.”

“Shit. Yeah, okay, I can do that,” he quickly agrees, not quiet believing his stupid line actually worked, and that you’re spurring him on as you wiggle your leggings down your hips and legs. The fabric gets stuck at your knees, and Steve springs into action, murmuring something about how it’s his job to undress you as he pulls at the fabric until he can drop it to the floor.

His hands land on your thighs again, thumbs pressing to the soft flesh at the inside of your thighs as they push up towards your core, spreading your legs apart as he goes. There’s no mistaking the small damp spot in the center of your panties as you squirm under Steve’s gaze. Pressing the pads of his thumbs to the crease at the apex of your thighs, he finally looks back up to you and asks, “Can I taste you first?”

Your answer is a quiet, choked moan and a frantic nod, “Please.”

Steve doesn’t have to be told twice, sinking to his knees in front of the desk as he pulls you closer. It’s the perfect height for this; your burning core only inches from Steve’s hot mouth. He wastes no time in leaning forward, pressing the softest of kisses to the growing wetness there, nose nudging against your clit through your underwear. A low groan comes from deep in his chest, “Can I take these off?”

Before Steve can even finish his sentence you’re nodding again, lifting your hips off of the desk as best you can so he can pull the fabric from your body. As soon as your underwear is on the floor, he’s back on you, licking a broad stripe up your cunt that has you gasping in surprise at his eagerness, “Steve—“

“Mmm,” he hums as his tongue finds your clit, sending vibrations up your spine as he sucks softly and rolls the sensitive nub between his lips.

It makes you keen, a high-pitched whine that might be embarrassing if you weren’t so blissed out. Your legs tremble as he kisses back down towards your dripping entrance, and your fingers twitch with the need to hold onto something. How Steve always makes you feel untethered so quickly, you’ll never know, but you remedy the problem easily, pushing his hat off of his head. It’s perfect timing on your part; your fingers rake through his soft hair just as his tongue dips inside of you, lapping at your slick.

You pull at the strands a bit harder than you mean to and Steve moans against you. The sound isn’t quite loud enough for you to hear, but you can feel it. The sensation makes your legs close around Steve’s head, but an arm curls around one thigh before it can press against him. It doesn’t take much for Steve to push your leg back down and hold you open for him, despite how much you’re squirming.

Steve pulls back after another sloppy kiss to your clit, lips shining with your slick and his own spit. He’s grinning, borderline smug as he nuzzles into the crease of your thigh again, nipping the delicate skin there, “Y’always taste so sweet, baby. Only fitting that my pretty girl has the prettiest pussy, huh?”

You squirm again, this time in embarrassment, and huff a pathetic whine, “Steve, stop—“

“Well I can’t lie,” he all but giggles, pressing a kiss to your hipbone as his gaze drags up your body to meet your eyes, “Want me to keep going? Or d’ya want my cock?”

Both sound like great options, but you can see the outline of his hard cock in his slightly-too-small shorts, and you want him. Reaching down to brush some hair out of Steve’s face, you murmur, “You. Want you.”

“I gotcha, sweetheart,” he smiles, sweeter this time, giving your thigh another kiss before he pulls himself up to stand.

Your chest heaves as you reach for him, taking the fabric of his shirt into your grasp and yanking him closer for a kiss. You can taste yourself on his mouth, but you don’t really mind, especially as his hands roam up your sides, inching underneath your shirt to cup your breasts. He’s teasing again, thumbs barely brushing over your nipples. But two can play at that game, even while he’s kissing you so hard you can barely breathe, and you slip a hand between you, palming his hard cock over his shorts.

“Okay, okay,” he pants after a moment of shaky breaths and wandering hands, “Can you— will you bend over for me? ‘S that alright?”

Instead of answering, you slide off of the desk and cup Steve’s face in your hands to give him a firm kiss. You make a show of turning around, leaning over your brand new desk until your forearms press to the wood grain. You hear a small groan from behind you as you push your hips backwards, ass pressing to Steve’s bulge, “Christ, sweetheart. How’d I get so goddamn lucky? Fuckin’ gorgeous, and all f’me.”

Warm hands spread wide over your hips, the pad of Steve’s thumb rubbing a short line over one of the dimples in the small of your back. He gives your flesh an appreciative squeeze before his touch is gone. You huff a whine at the loss of warmth and you hear a quiet chuckle from behind you, “Relax, baby. Gimme a second.”

There’s a quiet rustle of clothing, and then Steve’s hands are back on you, pulling you back towards him. You’re about to complain, to ask him to do something, anything, when you finally feel the tip of his cock nudge against your entrance. Your breath catches as he pushes his hips forward, finally sinking into you slowly. He takes it easy, knowing that you’re plenty wet, but maybe not quite warmed up enough from just his mouth.

He stops when the front of his thighs press against the backs of yours, fingertips dimpling your hips with how firmly he’s holding onto you. Like he’s worried you might slip away. You moan softly at the aching stretch of your cunt, dizzy with how full you feel of Steve, Steve, Steve. He’s all you want — all you can think about, “Oh f-fuuck… Stevie…”

You swear you can feel his thighs quivering against yours as he stills inside of you. You can hear the grit in his voice, picture the way his jaw is clenched, as he murmurs, “Okay?”

A shaky breath escapes your lips, and you nod emphatically, maybe a bit too quickly, voice a higher pitch than normal, “So good, baby. Move, please move, need y-yo—“

The words die on your lips as Steve draws his hips back slowly and then presses back in. Your head falls forward, mouth dropping open in pleasure with a whine. You feel hot everywhere; a warmth that starts in tummy and spreads slowly, creeping up your torso and chest, into your limbs, until it feels like your body is on fire in the best way.

His hips roll in and out of your tight heat. It feels so good, and somehow, you still need more. Your forearms press further into the desk as you shift, pushing up on your toes to tilt your hips. You know that if you’re in just the right position, Steve will find the spot that makes you see stars. Desperate for the feeling, you shift again and hear a huff from behind you at the movement.

Steve knows what you want, and pushes his arm underneath you, between your body and the desk. His hands press to the softness of your tummy and to the curve of your hips as he pulls you into a better position, angling your hips so he can reach even deeper. The new angle has you gasping with each thrust, a punched-out sound that you can’t help between whimpers of Steve’s name and expletives. Steve’s not fairing much better, and you can hear the low grunt he lets out every time his skin meets yours, “You’re so wet— fuck, sweetheart — y’hear that? Hear how wet you are f’me? Feel so good ‘round me, baby. So good for me.”

“Y-yes, yeah — ah, Steve! — all yours,” you babble in an attempt to answer him, though you’re too fucked out to be all that coherent.

Seconds later, you get exactly what you’d been wanting when you’d shifted your hips; the head of Steve’s cock pressing to the spot inside of you that turns you to putty. The moment he finds it, your legs go weak, and Steve’s grasping onto you even tighter in an attempt to keep you somewhat upright. His arm curls across your midsection, and you feel his warmth against your back as he presses his chest to you. You can feel his breath, hot against the nape of your neck as he murmurs, “Right there, baby? That’s what you wanted, huh?”

You clench around him, making the drag of his cock that much sweeter. The feeling pulls a deep moan out of Steve, sending shivers down your spine as he twitches inside of you. One of the hands on your waist pushes up under your shirt until he can press against your sternum, and then he’s pulling you almost upright. Your eyes meet his in the vanity mirror attached to the desk, and you moan at the sight; you look just as fucked out as you feel, and so does Steve.

Lips on your neck, Steve hums, pleased, “There’s my girl. Look at yourself, honey, so so pretty on my cock, yeah?”

“Stevie,” you whine his name, and he’s sure it’s the best sound he’s ever heard, “‘m close, ‘m so close.“

“Y’gonna cum on my cock for me, sweetheart? C’mon, honey, know ya can,” he says, his free hand snaking down your torso and your hips to find your clit. He circles it quickly, over and over, just how you like, and with his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you, it doesn’t take long until you fall apart with a cry of his name.

He’s not far behind you, hips never slowing their pace, even as he bends you back over the desk. Every wave of pleasure has your cunt clenching around him, and it pushes Steve over the edge, too, with whiny groans against your skin where his face is pressed. You can feel him spill deep inside of you and you shudder, eyes squeezing shut as your head falls forward, hitting the desk with a small thunk.

Steve’s teeth sink into the smooth skin of your shoulder, quick and gentle, more of a nip, as he presses his chest to your back. Soft kisses soothe over the small bites, and then Steve’s pressing his nose into the crook of your neck, breath hot and heavy as he nuzzles there. You pant into your arms folded on the desk and melt into Steve’s touch as his hand rubs lovingly across your hip bones.

“Y’alright, baby?” he asks, out of breath.

“Mhm,” you murmur, post-orgasm haze still clouding your thoughts.

“Good,” you can feel the curve of his lips against your spine, followed by a few soft kisses that trail down your back. He stops halfway down, hands settling onto your hips as he stands back up and slowly pulls out.

You wince, still so sensitive, but let Steve pull you up and off of the desk, turning you around so your lips can meet his. He kisses you on the mouth, once, twice, and trails a kiss over to your cheek. Your fingers tangle into his hair and you let out a breathless laugh, “I think it’s sturdy enough.”

Steve huffs in amusement, “Thank god. Imagine if it broke while we were on it. And, good news, we just checked the office off of the ‘places we still need to fuck in the new apartment’ list.”

“If you bring me to the bathroom right now, we can check off another one.”

Eyes going wide, Steve grins, literally whisking you off of your feet as he says, “Deal.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x afab!reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington blurb #stevie #steve thots #kit writes

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vagabond-umlaut · 29 days

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INVERSE FUNCTION (1)

yandere sukuna x fem!reader; stalking; insp: this song [pls listen to this after reading]

divider by @benkeibear; jjk isn't mine; pls don't plagiarise/translate/repost this ❤️❤️

Sukuna is hooked on you.

He has no idea since when, why or how– but he has a very good idea of the degree he is hooked on you— each and every small bit of you–

Your sleepy face, first thing in the morning as you open the windows to your room, and stare at the sky then the empty street below. Your peppy walk out the apartment, not even an hour later as you head to your classes, always so punctual– so neatly, cutely dressed.

The warm smiles you offer everyone you come across— be it the kids waiting for their bus, the florist, the barista who serves you coffee, or the many classmates you've whenever you step into the class, words of greeting leaving you and brightening the room, more than the sun.

And not to mention the endearing look of concentration your pretty features wear, when the classes start.

Sukuna swears he has to actively, very painfully, restrain himself from walking right up to you and kissing your face off, each and every time your eyebrows gather together and your lips pucker into a pout– only for your teeth to sink into your lower lip not a moment later, the flesh there growing angry red, deliciously so, as you continue taking notes of the lecture.

Although... the man thinks his favourite look on you has got to be the one you wear in the evening: when the classes are over, when all your friends have finally left, when you're by yourself, no longer smiling as brightly as you do. Seeming so tired, so very fragile, as you trudge on the darkening streets back to your flat...

It makes something weird, but not wholly unpleasant, curl up within his chest. So strong that it makes him want to pick up into his arms, and keep you there forever, safe and sound and well-rested. Forever with him, tucked in the safety of his embrace—

Sukuna is not too sure, but he thinks this feeling might be why he has suddenly decided to break into your house today, instead of watching you from afar like he has always done. Or maybe, just maybe...

Watching you from a distance is no longer enough for him.

He has to enter the place you call 'home'.

He has to soak up every drop, memorise every fleck of your life here.

Starting from the random tiny doodles scribbled on the canary yellow walls— to the thick hardcover books and notebooks in neat stacks on the sofa, the table, the floor— to the pressure cooker kept on the oval burner of your gas stove— to the queen-size bed in a floral bed sheet, visible if he walks past the translucent screen between your bedroom and living room— to the sketchbook lying on the bed– its pages filled with– filled with–

Sketches Of Him!?!?

Him working in the garage on a car. Him smoking at the bus stop you travel from. Him dozing in class, head propped up on a fist. Him busy eating sandwiches, binoculars on the bench beside as his gaze stays somewhere above—

The sketchbook is filled with drawings of him, him, and only him—

Something stirs and stutters and stomps on his sternum; albeit he is unsure why. Is it the fact that he finally realises he is standing right in the middle of your bedroom– the most intimate place in your life? Or is it because he is staring at these many sketches your dainty fingers have made of him– so beautiful, so careful, so unlike him?

Can it be the unease clawing at him, stemming from your knowledge of him being in places close to you, where and when he should never be? Or– maybe or– is it the thrill tingling his fingers, when he realises, you too have been at places close to him, where and when you must never ever be...

A door opens and shuts behind him.

Sukuna swerves back to find you standing outside your bathroom, in nothing but a flimsy nightgown, hair still soaking wet whilst the towel hangs off your bare shoulders.

Your eyes jump from him to the sketchbook in his hand then to him— before crinkling into two pretty half-crescents as you smile... Sort of–

"Tea or coffee, stranger?"

follow the series here 🥰🥰 // masterlist

#kit writes: Inverse Function #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen x reader #ryomen x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst #jjk fluff #jjk angst #tw yandere #kit posts 📝

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totallyboatless · 11 months

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All of the actors for the Six of Crows storyline are remarkably well cast, but gonna focus on Kit Young for a second because that dude has something so fucking special. There's a subversive joy in his choices as Jesper that just kills me. Like at the end of season one with the line: "Tell me you have a plan. I don't care if it's a lie."

Reading that in your head without having seen his interpretation, the instinct is to go a little ragged, sardonic, exasperated - something to tell us that the character does actually care but just fucking can't deal with this shit right now. But Kit puts a pleading inflection on the line, his Jesper truly wants to be lied to, bringing it around to comedic desperation.

And it's not just with this line delivery, those facial expression reactions he does elevates every scene he's in. My favorite underrated moment is when he gives Wylan a confident wink and thumbs up when they're both getting the shit beat out of them. The juxtaposition of Jesper indicating "this is going exactly according to plan" when it's clearly not brings so much fun to the scene.

But the scene I keep coming back to over and over that I'm blown away by is under the carriage, when Jesper remembers Wylan. I could see so many actors taking those line directions and putting some angst behind them. We know Jesper was hurt when Wylan left in the morning, we know he blocked it out because his ego was bruised and he didn't want to face the pain of it. It would have made perfect sense for the line reading to have an edge to it, any indication of a grudge.

But Kit's face is lit up with nothing but fondness and joy as he remembers. And obviously actors aren't islands, the writers and directors have big influence - and they clearly are in line with a joy-filled Jesper, since the first thing they have Jesper say isn't "and you left me," it's "and you brought me stroopwaffles."

Jesper isn't a clown, but he's allowed to be one when he wants to be, and Kit leans into choosing joy with such effervescence. It only serves to make the dramatic scenes that much more heart wrenching. I hope we get a lot more Crows on screen, but whatever happens I'm excited to follow Kit's career, what a talented dude.

#actors that make my fingers itch to write #kit young #jesper fahey #six of crows #also his social handles are kittheyounger #what a fucking nerd #shadow and bone

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kitausu · 9 months

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I just want everyone on Andrew’s professional team to think Neil is a bad influence. Sure, Andrew had a bad reputation in college, but in reality he's quiet and keeps to himself and never starts shit (even if he will finish it). Meanwhile Neil is loud and brash and has public feuds with at least 5 reporters at any given moment. He averages one brawl a game and is known to be arrogant and difficult to get along with.

Neil finds it Delightful. He's thrilled by the idea that there's a whole professional exy team out there that feels nearly as protective of his husband as he is

When Andrew tells him their captain asked if Andrew had ever considered divorce Neil practically threw a party. He owns more merch for Andrew’s team than his own.

#aftg #all for the game #andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #kit writes hc

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ninacarstairss · 1 year

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no i’m not okay inej told jesper he’s family too, he’s the first man who made her feel comfortable again after the menagerie, the only one she can touch and hug like a brother because she knows he’ll always be there to protect her, to love her like a sister, to shield her and understand her whenever this life they’re leading gets too harsh. jesper is family. he’s her brother too

#i am sobbing so hard #i can barely see what im writing okay #inej ghafa #amita suman #kit young #jesper fahey #shadow and bone #six of crows #grishaverse #sab netflix #shadow and bone netflix

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ktsumu · 11 days

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18+ NSFT MDNI. SHOWER ACTION.

You already know that Atsumu's in the shower before you hear him in it, nudging the front door shut behind you, heels falling off of your groaning feet. The first matchup of the pre-season has ensured that.

Muscle memory makes you step over the routine dufflebag he drops in the very middle of the entryway, shaking the strap off of your ankle when it catches. His sweater's on the back of the couch.

You'd take it down the hallway with you, but you follow the clothes like a roadmap instead. Toeing along, kicking his track pants out of the way with a scoff, rolling your eyes and wondering how he completely missed the hamper.

An athlete, he calls himself.

The shower turns your bedroom hot, steaming up the windows from the open ensuite door, the mirror dripping with water. You can feel the humidity ruining the hair you worked so hard to keep tidy this morning.

"Atsumu?" You sigh, tugging it loose and glancing at him through the mirror.

It's more so what you can see of him— the frosted glass of the shower punishes you mostly, keeps you to watching his blurry body turn, his head twist to your voice. You can see him turn to face the water again.

"Hey baby. How's work?"

"I'm gonna guess better than the game today?" You pick up his sweaty jersey with your foot, taking in the distinct yet familiar smell of sharp pines and locker room. "Judging by the state of our home."

Atsumu breathes out sheepishly, but it sounds like a grin. "I'll clean it all up, don't worry."

"I know you will."

"Yeah, for sure." He hesitates, humming when he rubs at the crook of his neck. "Maybe tomorrow morning? Swear."

You don't care when he cleans it up, really. Your eyes haven't left the shower.

Quietly, you start to undo your blouse, shrugging it off of your shoulders and peeling it off of your sticky skin. You toss it near Atsumu's abandoned shorts.

"Been in there a while?" you huff, blindly turning on the fan. "Hot as hell in here."

"Everything hurts," he groans. "Fuckin' hate coming off the off-season— not used to it."

You purse your lips. "Gonna stay in for a little while longer?"

It's quiet, aside from the shower running. His shadow moves, leans closer to the glass before standing upright again. His hands tease you over the top, combing through his hair.

"If someone wants to keep me company, can't really say no."

(He must sense your eyes rolling, because he chuckles and slips the door open a crack.)

You shimmy your tight skirt down your legs, stepping out of everything embarrassingly fast. Your cami ends up hanging off the sink and your pantyhose are in a ball, but Atsumu's waiting hand has you getting inside the shower as fast as you can manage.

Where he isn't drenched in water, he's painted by a thin sheen of heat, the steam of the shower dripping down his temple. His hand welcomes you first, guiding you closer so his lips can greet you next.

Atsumu rests a hand on the side of your face, droplets of water swarming down your chest like snakes. He kisses you sloppily, tongue trying at yours the second you let him, teeth grazing your lip when you pull away like he's begging you to stay.

"Sore, huh?"

His eyes travel down— over your chest, sternum, hips. His hands follow in the same order like a drill— tits, chest, beautiful, beautiful hips. "Forget I said anything 'bout that,"

"You should rest, really,"

"Stop teasin' me, it's just cruel," he frowns, "need you to give me a cure tonight,"

"Yeah? It's called eight hours of sleep and Voltaren."

He rolls his eyes, lidded with said sleep— the hand holding yours that pulls you closer and his half-hard cock between you say something entirely different.

Atsumu's hand gropes your ass, fingertips dinging into fat until you get impossibly closer, until he's basically against your stomach and you're basically just looking at his lips.

"You should—"

"Should," he emphasizes, murmured against your mouth as he kisses you again, chaste but lingering, "but this is what I'm actually gonna do."

"What?"

"You," he hums, tucking a strand of your half-wet hair behind your ear, blocking the water and hoarding you to himself. "Gonna be my cleanse."

You snort, fingers smoothing over his abs and down to the base of his cock, nails gently running over the dark trail of hair. "That right?"

"Mmmyeah," he says through a groan, yawning before he slots a hand in between your legs, trailing it up your inner thigh as you finally get him in your hand. It's the only place he's wanted to be all night, besides your bed. "Feel so fuckin' good, fuck,"

You sigh against his chest, tilting your head up to taste him again. Like spearmint, like the gum he must've chewed on the drive home just knowing you'd end up here.

"Shit, alright," he sighs, hips lazily rolling into your palm as you look up at him with eyes that make him wanna pass out.

"Gotta choose now— you wanna be on your knees first or do ya want 'em over my shoulders?"

You breathe out a laugh, sliding your hands over his slippery arms, over every muscled ridge as you lower yourself to the tile floor, kissing his hip when you get there. "Romantic, really."

Atsumu's body tilts your way, chasing your lips down, leaning into your touch as he brushes a thumb over your cheek. The kiss you place on his flushed tip is greatly appreciated— he lets you know it.

"Yeah, honey, I try," he breathes. He smiles so warmly down at you that it's almost like you're not about to suck him off. "Just wait until I get you to bed, yeah?"

"We both know you're falling asleep."

"Well, after we get outta here you will be, too."

"Mm, we'll see."

Atsumu barks a laugh, delicately running his hand up your nape before taking a stronger hold on the base of your hair.

"Oh, you're so on."

#what is this? i dont know. shower sex pregaming with atsumu???? in such a tsumu mood tonight wrote this in 20 #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu smut #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq smut #haikyuu smut #kit writes

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juniper-clan · 2 months

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I'm not saying you need to have a favorite, but which kit do you feel more attached to Heronstar?

#heron seems so happy with them I’m actually kinda surprised #you know when a character pulls the pencil out of your hand more or less and write themselves #she is doing that about the kits #warrior cats #clangen #clangen warrior cats #jcasks #warriors oc #wc #wc oc

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heartstopperthoughts · 2 months

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Charlie Spring is so strong

#I love Alice for writing this scene #not 👏 everyone 👏 deserves 👏 forgiveness 👏#heartstopper #heartstopper s2 #heartstopper season 2 #heartstopper tv #heartstopper netflix #nick and charlie #nick x charlie #narlie #nick nelson #charlie spring #ben hope #b*n h*pe #b*n h*pe hate club #kit connor #joe locke #sebastian croft

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ser-rctslcyer · 2 years

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*clambers in, dusts off clothes,* Hi! I'm here to deliver uh *looks at hand* one large order of William Tell comfort:

Title: Lovin' You is All I'll Ever Do Word Count: 480 Warnings: fluff, canon typical angst, implied smut, making out, soft William Tell, William stemming with his card deck absentmindedly

“Day, you with me?” he asks softly his hands moving some cards between them in a beautiful arch, it’s an old deck but it still looks new. He cares for his card meticulously might be due to his special interest in them, but it may also be due to his OCD tendencies—who knows. Regardless you lay beside him your eyes shut as a soft hum leaves you & a chuckle follows suit low & rumbly from within his chest “You’re thinking again.”

“A bit.” he hums again stilling his cards, stacking them neatly & thusly setting them on the nightstand. He turns to you then propping his cheek up with his hand–elbow digging into the plush mattress. He’s eyes you as well observing for any signs of distress quickly relieved to see none

“About what?” he asks a hand coming to rub along your brow tenderly.

“Just thinking.”

“Hm, we agreed we weren't going to do that.” you sigh knowing he’s right, you both did agree on it. After he cried to you about his past, after everything he’s ever bottled up spilled onto the floor & soaked into the carpet

“It’s nothing, promise,” you reassure & he sighs in tandem unwilling to pry anything out of you–knowing his disdain for it himself. Shifting he moves until he’s above you a soft smile plays on his lips until those same lips meet your own slow & gentle. Coaxing every little sound out of you & your fingers tug at his hair. He’s drinking yu up, sucking you in—-fully trapping you within him just to remind himself that you’re real & that this isn’t some silly game.

“Talk to me about it later,” he starts “--please.” he ends pressing kisses along your neck to allow you space to breathlessly agree. His hands move along your hips until they slide under your shirt—that’s obviously one of his—just to feel your skin ignite from his touch.

“Will–” he cuts you off before you can finish saying his name properly–his lips already thick against yours. He’s so skilled at this as his tongue snake into your mouth & a hand hooks a leg around his own just to drag you closer to where he wants you most. There’s no true intent behind this though he clearly isn’t going to deny himself the pretty noise bubbling ut of you.

“I love you so much, Day.” he breathes hot against your lips before nosing along your jaw “--so much…” he repeats between peppering your neck in kisses. Moaning softly when you tug his curls harshly as he nips at your skin just to get your mind off whatever you were thinking about.

You both remain like that a mess of mouths & hands in the comfort of your hotel room. You remain like that still as clothes peel off revealing layers of yourself that no one is privy to, you remain–oh you remain like this forever.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

NOTHING IN THE WORLD COULDVE PREPARED ME FOR THIS SOFTNESS IM SO I——

PLEASE I JUST WANT HIM TO HOLD AND KISS ME SO FUCKING BAD!!! I LOVE HIM!!!! I LOVE HIM!!!

#kit’s writing #loser’s circus of f/o’s #split the deck ❤️♠️

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bratfiction · 19 days

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-> repost from my old blog cause i’ve been DILF crazy lately.

DILF!SIMON ???

truly an old, grumpy bastard. kidding. he’s a dilf without even being a dilf— which is so fucking frustrating because it forces you to imagine actually having his kids and watching him walk around with a chunky baby to bounce on his big, ink covered arm. he always tells you that all you have to do is say the word, and he’d be happy to oblige. to give you a happy baby and make up the warm, bubbly home he never had growing up. he’d put a pretty ring on your finger, too. everything and anything despite your age gap.

and god… is he making sure you fall right into his trap. he’s even at it early in the morning, lounging in the living room with nothing but his briefs on, thick thighs spread and just waiting for you to sit your soft warmth right on top of them. above the elastic waistband digging into his carved hips are those solid abs that reside under the bit of pudge he does have. your eyes trail all the way up, to his beefed up pecs and bulky scarred biceps, while he reads the morning paper and has a mug of tea without a care in the world.

“simon,” you don’t mean to say his name, honestly. it slips out with ease as it tends to, because you cant seem to wrap your head around how this metaphorical and literal mountain of a man is yours. it escapes you on instinct as your feet carry you to him, shuffling in your slippers until your knees bump into his own.

you’re falling into his lap with a kind of desperation that is so familiar to him. he knows— he always does. so a calloused hand squeezes your thigh while you press yourself into him and already begin placing kisses along the underside of his stubbly jaw. his adam’s apple bobs as he speaks.

“ready t’ take me up on that offer?”

#⌨️.kit's writing #old blog was khonig teehee.#anyway #recycling things from the vault because i’m both too busy and lazy to write #***#simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #call of duty x you #call of duty x reader #call of duty smut

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boyfriendstevie · 2 months

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just saw a post that was like “it’s women’s day!! eat pussy right now!!” and that is SO steve. he finds out it’s international women’s day, and when he gets home, he drops to his knees in front of you where you’re sitting on the couch, slides his hands up your thighs. he mumbles something about how much he loves you, how thankful he is for you, how much he wants to show you how much he appreciates you…

#is this anything?#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #stevie #steve thots #kit writes

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jazzythursday · 11 months

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Wylan leaves in the morning.

He doesn’t plan to, not exactly, but he definitely doesn’t plan on staying, either.

Wylan is no stranger to one night stands. He can’t say he gets around very frequently, but enough to know the general plot of how they're supposed to go.

Flirt, drink, fuck, leave. The order isn’t necessarily set in stone, but the list ends the same every time.

He has a good time, for the most part, and it’s always a welcome break from the awful chemical smell burned into the Tannery or the staleness of the empty rooms in cheap boarding houses (when he can afford them) that Wylan is used to. Wylan likes the freedom that comes with it, too. It’s liberating to go where he wants and do what he pleases; to not worry about who he’s seen with or sleeps with or what they might think of him after. And he likes feeling wanted, for a little while. He likes being reminded that he exists.

So Wylan does not make a habit of falling asleep with the people who take him to bed.

He doesn’t even remember falling asleep, really.

He doesn't remember, and yet, Wylan wakes up with his head pillowed on Jesper’s chest. With Jesper’s arm draped over him. His breath is warm where it ghosts over the top of his hair, and if Wylan glances up he can see the way Jesper’s mouth— those lips— fall open in sleep.

It’s the best morning he’s had in months, possibly. Certainly the most comfortable.

He knows it can’t last.

Wylan looks at Jesper, still sleeping peacefully next to him, and he panics.

He’d woken up in Jesper Fahey’s arms.

He’d slept with Jesper Fahey.

Jesper has a reputation, and Wylan knows it, even new to the Barrel as he is. He’d heard about Dirtyhand’s second and resident sharpshooter plenty— Can’t resist a gamble, never misses a shot, and not just with bullets. Jesper Fahey is an excellent marksman, they say, with terrible luck with the cards, and a soft spot for pretty girls and even prettier boys.

Jesper’s played the field— multiple fields— went on a seismic world tour of fields.

Wylan is very good at not being noticed. He’s also very good at listening. People tend to look past him, they never pay any mind to the too skinny boy with the wild hair and the hunched shoulders and the grime that never seems to wash off completely after his long shifts at the Tannery. Wylan knows this, knows he’s very adept at being able to disappear, when he needs to.

So by the time Wylan actually meets Jesper, he’s well aware of his place in Ketterdam’s booming rumor mill. Jesper has many, and Wylan thinks by now he may have heard them all.

And yet, none of them do a thing to prepare him for Jesper.

They’d met in a tavern.

Wylan had been nursing his drink for the better half of an hour, trying to come up with reasons not to go back to the sad cot he had waiting for him in a rented room, with the only window overlooking the brick wall of a dark alley.

So far, he’d only come up with the one.

Wylan had seen the tall Zemeni man from across the room and hadn’t stopped looking since. He was flirting with a girl at the bar, twirling one of his guns in one hand demonstratively with a drink in the other. The girl— a curly haired blond— was giggling, hand pressed to her mouth with eyes that had very clear and direct intentions.

Wylan had almost resolved himself to a night of wasting the few kruge at his disposal with little to show for it, when the man had looked up and caught him staring. The man had smiled, twirling his gun with an extra flourish and then tipped his hat. Wylan smiled back, and gave a little wave. Embarrassing, He’d thought, stop it, he’s already with someone else anyway. He’d looked down, and stared at the near empty contents of his drink until someone sat down next to him and said, in a voice like apple butter and sweet syrup, “Can I get you another of those?”

Then Wylan had looked up into the eyes of the handsomest man he’d ever seen, and thought, he has the most perfect lips.

Out loud, he’d said, “I, uh, well—” His mouth was wide open, he’d realised, and shut it quickly. Again, the man had smiled. Again, Wylan had smiled back. “Yes, please.”

And that's how he’d met Jesper.

Afterwards, they’d stumbled through the streets— I know a place, Jesper said, If you want to take this somewhere more private— until they’d passed a corner where a vendor was selling traditional Kerch sweets out of a cart.

“Stroopwafels!” Jesper had stopped. “I love stroopwafels!”

Wylan was tugging him toward the cart without really making a conscious decision to move, and Jesper had laughed, surprised and delighted.

Wylan bought them both stroopwafels and handed Jesper his with a shy smile and a shrug. “For the drink.”

Jesper looked at him consideringly, head caulked to the side, and Wylan felt himself blushing in the low light of the lamps. “You’re sweet,” he’d said eventually.

“Is that bad?” Wylan had asked, sheepish. Jesper was already shaking his head.

“It’s good. Just not that many sweet things to be had in the Barrel. It’s refreshing.” He’d bit off a piece of one of the waffles and smiled. “These are sweet too,”— he’d leaned in, smile still earnest but with something decidedly different underneath— “I like sweet.”

Jesper had not touched him like he’d been expecting to be touched. Jesper made no assumptions; he’d asked, about everything, in a way that was near gentlemanly if it wasn’t for the fact that he radiated trouble through his pores. Jesper was— not quite gentle, because Wylan had expected hot and heady and everything deep, and Jesper was all of that and more— but he wasn’t rough. He didn’t bruise, not if Wylan didn’t say yes first, and afterwards he’d laid back down and settled Wylan into his arms in a way that he had no real way of protesting— didn’t want to protest, anyway— and kissed him.

It was that that had scared Wylan the most, he thinks. Because Wylan is rarely kissed for the express purpose of it. It was always the promise of more— the rush of what was to come. But people do not generally tend to kiss Wylan for the sake of kissing Wylan. It’s different. Jesper is different, and Wylan can’t afford to be stupid enough to do something like get attached. Can’t afford much at all— really.

But Jesper had kissed him, pleased and lazy and warm, and at some indeterminate time later they had both apparently fallen asleep.

And it was nice.

It was too nice. It hurt with how nice it was.

Wylan peels himself slowly out of Jesper’s arms, careful not to wake him, and decides then that he cannot stand to be here any longer.

Jesper Fahey is not what he’d expected, he’s better.

Jesper Fahey is lovely, and beautiful, and kinder to him than anyone has been to Wylan for almost as long as he can remember.

Jesper Fahey is more than he could have ever hoped for, and he isn’t going to stick around for someone like Wylan.

So Wylan leaves, and he doesn’t look behind him as he closes the door.

#wesper #inspired by the tweet about what kit said about their first meeitng #wesper drabble #wesper ficlet #wesper fanfic #wylan hendriks #wylan van eck #jesper fehey #shadow and bone #six of crows #shadow and bone fanfiction #Jazzy writes #jazzy writes fanfic #a drabble for your troubles?

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