#Gonna go read it as I sleep so gn

[mysteriousubstance]

if anyone wonders what ao3 looks like on a DSi in 2024, here ya go

[spacemilkbag]

.

[phagodyke]

gnashes my teeth. well anyway

[maximumkiki]

.

[joonipertree]

Sugar Daddy Boxer! Bakugo Katsuki x college student gn!reader

Tags: Age gap! Bakugo is 27, reader is 22. fluff, protective bakugo, attentive bakugo, he's a boxer because I said so <3

Bro i finished this with my wrist bandaged up. The things I'd do for my anime men.

Pt 2. Pt 3

Feel free to send in requests/prompts for this AU!

"Babydoll."

....

"Babydoll."

You finally hummed, unwrapping the woollen scarf that pillowed your face. It did an amazing job to keep you warm in the cold abyss of the early morning winter but was useless in your boyfriend's heated sports car.

You let yourself unfurl, letting the warmth melt you.

"Did you sleep properly?"

"Yeah." you said with a yawn, ready to turn your brain off again.

"I'm gonna ask you how many hours and you're telling me the truth."

You made eye contact with Katsuki, who still hadn't left the front of your building mind you, and reached out for your morning kisses.

"First, answer then kisses."

You whined and squirmed before huffing into stillness when you realised he was too mean to give into you.

"Six hours."

Katsuki's already furrowed eyebrows furrowed even more but he leaned forward to kiss your puckered lips. They were warm and firm and tasted like strawberry chapstick. And the hint of your cologne wafted through you, making you sigh into him.

Katsuki tugged your lower lip into his mouth, suckling on it before letting go and kissing the corner of your lips.

"We agreed on eight, baby."

"I was doing my homework, silly."

"Was this before or after your fanfiction reading time?"

You grinned, pawing at his chest as you leaned in for another chaste kiss.

"Look at you learning, old man. It was before."

Katsuki rolled his eyes, squeezing your thigh with his rough hand before finally deciding to start the car.

"Where do you wanna get breakfast from? You're not getting a coffee, by the way."

"Excuse m---"

"Nuh uh, little one." Katsuki looked at you with an eyebrow raise. "You didn't sleep as much as you should've and it already makes you jittery."

You crossed your arms and huffed, burying yourself deeper into the leather. And you knew that you'd just say something stupid and get yourself in even more trouble, so your mouth stayed shut. Katsuki didn't bother asking again, already knowing that there was a chocolate croissant and Acai bowl that had you hooked.

He made his way into the store quickly, your body not ready to get out to the fanged monster that the winter brought. And it meant you got the wonderful opportunity to see people actively stare at your boyfriend.

It didn't matter when he didn't even bother making eye contact, hands deep in his pockets and resting bitch face on. Two boys came up to him in an excited manner that wasn't fit for early morning. And while Bakugo scowled harder, he still had the courtesy to give them his autograph. You knew that if they weren't highschool students, he'd tell them to fuck off. Bakugo never became aggressive with kids.

Once the order was handed to him, he slipped the tip into the jar at the counter. And since the man never carried change, the barista's face had twisted into shell shock. But Bakugo didn't even acknowledge it and left the premises, making his way back to you.

You were handed the croissant and Acai bowl, nose filling with pleasant scents that warmed you even further into the seat. Katsuki took a sip of his black coffee before handing you your own cup.

"It's very much decaf but I know you like your caramel macchiato."

You squealed at the gesture, not surprised that he was soft for you, and leaned in to give a big wet smooch to his cheek. His smile was evident, even when he tried to keep it hidden.

"I need to stop spoiling you."

He never did.

By the time you'd finished your drink and croissant, your uni had come into view. And as always, some people eyed the Chevrolet Corvette that your boyfriend drove. black exterior glittering in the morning sun.

After a couple affectionate kisses littered across Bakugo's face and a very long kiss on the lips, you got out of your car in your sweats and puffer jacket.

Your friends were waiting by the entrance, having come at the same time, they greeted you while eyeing the car. They knew it belonged to your boyfriend but they never knew what your boyfriend even did to be sports car rich.

"Hello, my children," You muttered out, blinking slowly as you put your scarf over your nose.

"Hey, dude. How did your--" One of your friends began to talk to you while you all walked to class. But after a good fifteen steps, you heard someone call your name.

"Oi." The gruff voice filled your ears.

The three of you turned around and your friends had been left bamboozled.

Because lo and behold, Bakugo Katsuki had graced them with his presence.

The man just held up a green canvas bag, his finger being the only thing to hold the straps. You gasped and ran to grab it, making sure to check the contents as if afraid that you forgot to put your precious artwork before you left your apartment.

"Thank you thank you thank you, 'suki." You muttered, getting on your tippy toes to kiss his nose and mouth. You had to put your hand on rock hard muscle to stabilise yourself and the pressure didn't effect him one bit. He just cupped your face and deepened the kiss before placing one on your forehead.

"Stop being a dumbfuck and sleep on time. And show me what you made when I pick you up."

Bakugo started going back to his car, not caring for the stares your friends were throwing at him. They were chill, so he's heard. Katsuki was too anti social to get first hand experience.

"My guy."

When you turned, your guy friend had grabbed you by the shoulder and shook you vigorously.

"Your rich fucking boyfriend is a WBA fighter. Dude!"

"Yeah!! He's super cool right?"

"He's a fucking god but that's besides the point." Your friend looked more and more erratic.

"Yeah and that god is giving you a death glare. Better get your hands off them, bro. You've seen the amount of blood his opponents lose." Your other friend interjected, already pulling him off of you. He looked pale.

You turned and saw Katsuki stand like a statue, hands in his pockets and eyes hardened. His teeth were gritted which worried you since he already had a bad jaw. Students were swerving away like two rivers, his body like a jagged mountain in the middle.

Your double thumbs up and wide grin was the only thing that broke him out of his stance, shoulders relaxing and jaw releasing from its hold. Katsuki scanned the two men for a few more seconds before he turned and left with a wave of his hand.

"Fuck, I don't think I'll be able to breathe properly all day."

You turned with a skip in your step, happy to have seen your boyfriend for a few extra seconds in the morning.

"He's like a doberman. Such a cutie pie."

"I feel like that's an accurate description considering he would bite our heads off but only let you pet him."

"I see no cuteness in that man."

[cupidkenji]

If you think I'm pretty

Pairing: Homelander x afab!reader CW: fingering, praise, slightly OOC homie, threats of captivity (he says hes gonna keep reader in the penthouse that's it I promise it's not genuine), cursing, sub!reader, porn without plot (I think this is applicable), they're in a relationship before this, reader says 'John' cause moaning homelander is funny as fuck Summary: Being a perfectionist, you're unsatisfied with a recent test score. Homelander has a cure for that. Disclaimer: reader is always thought to be chubby/fat but there are no physical descriptors here, just an FYI WC: 1,955 Genuinely idk I'd like to apologize for this. I fell out of my Criminal Minds hyperfixation like months ago and haven't written since so I'm really rusty. This is 100% a self-insert but reader is gn and not described other than the fact that they're AFAB. Also this was only proof read once so please point out typos if you see them <3

Your mother used to scold you for being too hard on yourself. Her face is virtually the only thing you can picture as your screen burns your eyes a bit. It’s too early for the high brightness of the device, having woken up before the sun could reintroduce your eyes to light. You’d set yourself up to wake slightly after midnight, intending to check the score of a huge test you’d taken months ago and simply go back to sleep in a matter of minutes. A rather stupid plan, in hindsight. You were questioning now if you knew yourself at all. Your phone had nearly been in your hand when you felt the cold burn of anxiety in your lungs. This test was a huge fucking deal. You were a hardcore perfectionist on top of that, trying with countless futile attempts to surrender your idea of the model score. You just needed to pass, not get your professor to memorialize you in marble for your pure genius. You’d gotten up instead of turning on your phone, brushing your teeth and making your bed before pacing the room slightly while you thought. Essentially, you were just allowing the mantra of ‘cope’ to bound back and forth between your ears for a couple minutes. You weren’t sure if you wanted to cope with the disappointment of a lesser score, or you were telling yourself to come down a couple pegs and be happy with getting by. The repetition of the word soothed that icy-hot feeling that had festered from your lungs to your fingertips, and you checked.

You were fine. Not the score you wanted, but you were fine. 

Mentally you writhed against the slump of your shoulders, but the weight of this self-inflicted shortcoming hit harder than you were capable of defending yourself from. The long sigh you let out was all frost as the tension left your airways. How underwhelming. You laid down on the bed you’d made not ten minutes ago, hearing the window slide open a few seconds into your pity party. You normally left it unlocked for him, knowing if anyone else attempted to enter your home, he wasn’t far. He told you himself that he seemed to have tuned into you specifically; swearing he’d be able to hear you on the other side of the city if you needed him.

“It’s way too early for you to already be having a bad day. The sun’s not even up.” He was closer now, fully sealed into your space and approaching you with comfortable footsteps. You never fully got over the irony of seeing America’s greatest hero flying through your window in sweatpants. “What’s wrong?” You always noticed the subtle way he changed how he spoke around you. In every interview or interaction you’d ever witnessed of his, he’d spoken like a character. For a man who hated having his words scripted, he spoke the same as every cookie-cutter movie he’d starred in. He didn’t talk that way with you, something you hoped was subconscious. A demonstration of the safety he felt around you.

You shrugged in response to the question. You acknowledged the trivial nature of your feelings, knowing you probably reeked of sadness to him but attempting to downplay it anyways. “Bad test score.”

He sat down next to you on the edge of the bed, allowing you the space to remain sprawled out. “Doubtful.” He laughed slightly as he said it, shaking his head and smiling. He looked at you, his eyebrows furrowing minorly. “What’d you get?”

“A four.”

“What were you hoping to get?”

Your voice was barely audible as you spoke, knowing he would pick it up but also trying to spare yourself the rush of immaturity hearing yourself speak would bring. “A five.”

He sighed - a sigh full of endearment that his eyes reflected as he looked at you. You told him once that his eyes were the first thing you’d noticed. It was sunny the day you’d met, and they looked practically ethereal. You’d seen such chaos reflected in them even from day one. The masses called him ‘soulless’ often, but you couldn’t understand such an accusation from anyone who had ever seen him. His eyes were practically overflowing with soul, every time you looked at him it was all you saw. They were capable of incredibly dangerous things but they were so entrancing. He was so fucking enticing. 

You broke the eye contact, but he nudged your leg and moved his head to try and follow your eyes. “Hey-” He called for your attention, so you looked back at him. “You know that’s a good score, right?”

You smiled small at him. “No- I know. I’m just…I don’t know- strict with myself.” You found it hard to put into words. You knew you’d done well, but the ability to feel pride felt withheld from you. Like your eyes bore into it but your mind refused to distribute the feeling it brought to something tangible.

“I think you’re just too much of a fucking perfectionist.” His hand was splayed across your upper thigh from where he sat. No matter which part of you he touched, he had a grip that made your head spin. He was so sure of himself, the strength demonstrated from such an unassuming form never lost the novelty that it’d held when you met him. “Can’t let yourself admit when you did good.”

You tried to be dismissive, but it was hard to fake anything with a man like him. “As if you aren’t, John.” His jaw got the slightest bit tighter at the use of his name. Such a miniscule action that easily dodges the eyes of people who aren’t looking. You couldn’t really imagine not looking at him.

“I’m serious.” His face was still relaxed, but the expression in his eyes had shifted. His pupils dilated and his full attention was on you. “You did good.”

The only con of being with somebody with abilities such as his was the lack of secrecy. You used to laugh with your friends about how grateful you were for the discrete nature of arousal when living without certain body parts. That went out the window when you started seeing him. He knew the second anything shifted within you. He had every perversion you’d ever dreamt about practically categorized by the time your two month anniversary had rolled around. One of his favorite pastimes was casually working a turn-on into conversation and just watching you squirm.

You fought the urge to pull away from his hand, feeling your stomach drop slightly at a declaration like that. “Thank you.” You looked away from him again. Something you knew he didn’t really like but choosing to try and save face over anything else. 

“Yeah…I don’t know.” You could see his focus on the topic increasing by the second. His disposition was happy, but he held serious and almost threatening undertones. He tightened his grip on your thigh and you looked at back to him, hesitantly following the silent command to keep your eyes up. “I think you should say it.”

“John-” His assertiveness was starting to get to you, it always did. You sat up on your forearms to be a little more level with him but he moved his hand from your thigh to your stomach and pushed you back down. The thought of having to lay there and explicitly state that you did well on your test felt like a kid having to write in repetition on a chalkboard in detention. 

He was looking down at you, the eye contact making you slightly dizzy. His face was kind, it almost always was when he was around you, but the conversation was derailing. “I just think it’s important that you understand this.” He was so good at making you want what he thought was best.

You inhaled, swallowing your pride and licking your lips. “What do you want me to say?”

That familiar, condescending smile was starting to creep onto his lips. “Just tell the truth.” His eyebrows raised slightly in a silent prompt. “Say you did good.”

His hand was descending from your stomach, making it’s way to the hemline of your underwear. You hadn’t bothered to change out of what you were sleeping in, only now realizing the vulnerability of it. You held your tongue for a moment, breathing out a quiet “I did good.” 

He tore the only fabric between his hand and you off your body as easily as ripping a sheet of paper and leaned in a little more. “Say it again.”

“John-” You said it as barely an exhale as he skimmed his hand over you. You hadn’t even registered just how sensitive or how wet you’d gotten in the few minutes you were talking to him.

“I don’t know why you act so fucking noble. You should be running Ashleys around in circles or giving interns your coffee order. Not any of this testing bullshit that you’re too good for anyway.” His tone elevated to that mocking, cocky tone that swept into the most shame filled crevices of your mind and tugged the most deprived parts into the driver seat. He thumbed at your clit while he spoke, increasing and decreasing the pressure whenever he felt like it and effectively snatching any remaining ability to form coherent thought from your grabbing hands. “You’ve been chosen by a God, honey. You can do anything, I can give you anything.” He got breathier as he spoke, seemingly soaking up the desperation you were excreting and matching it in a tenfold.

You felt two of his fingers enter you effortlessly and you couldn’t stop yourself from gripping his arm. You always felt the power imbalance most in times like these. A feeling like pulling an angel away from heaven just for yourself, combing through it’s wings with your fingers or trying to lap up a fraction of that status in a wildly inappropriate disregard for the natural roles of nature. He was so much more than you, but he just wanted you to feel good. You swore under your breath as he started circles on your clit. He never got hand cramps, never got tired. He would go until you couldn’t anymore.

“That’s it.” He had barely said it, more just exhaled the assurance under his breath. You were close, you’re sure he could feel it. “Gonna move you to my penthouse. Keep you braindead and needy.”

 It shouldn’t have hit you the way it did. Considering who he was, he could easily fulfill that promise with nobody at Vought even thinking twice. It was the way he said it, the way he acts. Always needing control and always right. The most powerful man alive spent his time fantasizing about control over you, and your stomach twisted in disgust at how badly it got you off.

He slowed his movements as your high declined. He was breathing heavy, but your heart was beating like a drum. He had the smallest smile on his face like the sound gave him a sense of satisfaction. You rose to your forearms, this time with no protest from him, and watched him stand up. He held the back of your head with the hand that wasn’t nearly dripping and kissed the top of your head. It was chaste and quick, but the domesticity of it made your throat ache. He uttered something about getting a towel to clean up, stating he’d be right back before exiting the room. 

You rushed the words out before he could leave. “But you didn’t-”

“Next time.” He just waved you off. “I just thought you deserved a little reward.”

[cozage]

hii can i request silent treatment with sabo, law, and ace? like the one you wrote before! i love reading it sm i wanted to see how they (sabo, law, and ace) would react if they received/ gave silent treatment !

Characters: gn reader x Sabo, Law, Ace Cw: everyone involved being a bit of an orange flag Total word count: 4k

Silent Treatment

Sabo

Oh sweet sweet Sabo. He didn’t even realize his offhanded joke in the meeting had offended you. He didn’t think about how you and Koala were the only ones not laughing about the jokes the officers said. He didn’t notice how you and Koala immediately left the room fuming as soon as you could.

He had to run to catch up with you after the meeting, and you showed no sign of slowing your pace. 

“Hey!” he called out, trying to get to you. “I’m gonna go out with the guys for a bit, I’ll catch up with you soon?”

“Do whatever you want,” you shot back. “The men know best after all, right?” 

He must not have heard the sarcasm and anger laced in your voice, because he just gave you a wink and a peck on the cheek and ran off with some of the other leaders. 

Koala gave you a side smirk. “They’re clueless, I swear,” she laughed. 

“We never get the credit,” you grumbled. “I can’t do it anymore, Koala! I’m so fed up with this!”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

“So many times!” you cried. “We’re treated the same professionally but socially-”

“It’s a commanders club,” she finished for you. “Maybe we should make a separate club?”

“Rule One: No talking to them until they apologize.”

Sabo was surprised to find that you weren’t waiting for him in bed when he got home. You weren’t in the spare room, either. 

He finally found a note on the kitchen that was short and to the point. “Sleeping at Koala’s.”

Confusing, but he was slightly drunk, so he opted to go to bed and figure it out in the morning. 

When morning came, he was disappointed to find that the coffee hadn't started. He went to grab his overnight oats from the fridge, but you hadn’t made that for him either, which was strange. Usually when you stayed at Koala’s, you prepped all that stuff ahead of time. But last night you hadn’t. He’d have to ask you about that before the meeting this morning. 

He arrived late to the meeting since the coffee took longer than he thought it would and he had to make breakfast. You were already sitting when he got there, you and Koala talking to each other quietly. Normally you saved a se at for him, but today all of the seats had been filled, and he was left with one at the end of the table.

He kept trying to catch your eye, but you refused to look at him. He finally caught Koala’s at one point, and mouthed “What’s wrong?” but she simply rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Dragon. 

If Koala was mad at him, that meant you were mad at him. He racked his brain the entire meeting, trying to think of what he would’ve done to make you upset. But he couldn’t think of anything. 

He tried to catch you after the meeting, but you and Koala made a beeline for the door and ignored his calls after you. 

“Just let them go, dude,” Jiron said to him. “Those two never want to hang out with us anyway.”

Shit. It all clicked together. The jokes made in the meeting yesterday, him going out with the boys without asking if you and Koala had wanted to come. 

“Maybe if you treated them with a little respect, Jiron, they would.” Sabo’s words came out in a low, threatening hiss. 

“Look, I know you’re close with them,” Jiron said. “But they’re not very nice to us either. They’re kind of…”

“Kind of what?” Sabo edged, his blood starting to boil. 

“Well…bitchy.”

Sabo wasn’t really sure what happened next. He didn’t remember doing anything, but the next moment, Jiron was on the ground holding his nose. Blood was leaking out through his fingers onto the ground. 

“Don’t use that word to describe either of them ever again. Got it?” Sabo growled the words, looking around the room. 

“What the FUCK, Sabo?” Jiron cried, but Sabo was already pacing toward the door, desperate to get to you as soon as possible. 

He caught up with you and Koala quickly and jumped between the two of you, wrapping his arms around your alls shoulders. You tensed at his touch, but once you realized it was him, you just scoffed and shrugged him off. 

“Go away, Sabo,” Koala sneered as she shoved him away.

“I’m sorry!” Sabo jumped in front of you all, trying to block your path. “Please, I’m sorry I laughed at those jokes yesterday and even made one myself. That was really shitty of me.”

“Sabo,” you sighed, shaking your head.

He fell to his knees and looked up at you, begging. “And please teach me how to use the coffee machine! And make overnight oats! I’ll make it from now on. I’m starving and I’m sorry.”

His apology made you giggle, and you took his hands and helped him to his feet. Once he was standing, you laced your fingers through his. “You’ll really make the oats?”

“If you want me to.”

“Deal.” You smiled, and gave him a soft kiss to seal his promise. “Can’t go back on it now.”

“And how are you going to make it up to me?” Koala pouted.

“Oh,” Sabo suddenly got very bashful. “I punched Jiron, I think.”

“You WHAT?!”

Law

You bounded into Law’s office, excited to tell him the news. “Law! Shachi just caught-”

“Hang on,” Law mumbled, flicking through his book. He was always looking for something. You were always interrupting him. 

After a few minutes, he looked up at you. “Okay, go ahead.”

“Shachi just caught an electric eel! A massive one!”

The moments the words left your mouth, Law was back to looking back at his book. “Interesting. Is that all?”

“Well, I just thought-”

“Hang on,” he mumbled again, already lost on another tangent in his head. 

“Don’t worry about it.” You left the room before he had a chance to respond, though you doubt he even noticed your absence.

He got like this sometimes, and you tried not to get hurt by his sudden coldness. It’s just what happened when you were with the Surgeon of Death. A few hours later you had all but forgotten the encounter. There was an island coming up, and you ran to alert him.  

“Law!” You slammed his door open, ecstatic. “Law! Guess-”

“Do you mind?!” His loud and hostile voice made you take a step back. “I’m trying to do something and you keep interrupting me!”

You pushed down the lump that was in your throat, but you could feel your lip trembling, threatening to give you away. You couldn’t look weak in front of him. 

“Sorry,” you whispered, rushing out of the room.

Shachi found you first, furiously wiping the tears from your face. “I told you, you’re too good for him! Maybe you should give him a taste of what it’s like to lose you.”

“Like how?”

A devious grin grew on Shachi’s face. “Silent treatment.”

“Hey captain.” Bepo peeked in the door nervously, knowing there was tension about to be caused. “We’re heading off to the island.”

Law looked up from his book, confused. “Island?” You always told him when you were about to approach an island.

“We docked about a half hour ago,” Shachi chimed in from the hallway.

Law could hear something in his voice. “Where’s Y/N? Are they going?” 

“They're going,” Shachi said, grabbing the door handle. 

“Well, can you-” Law’s words were cut off by Shachi slamming the door shut. 

That was Law’s first indication of something stirring. Shachi always took your side during squabbles, and he seemed livid today. 

Law meant to go talk to you. He wasn’t sure what he needed to apologize for, but he knew it was something. But then he found an interesting article about poisons, and he got sucked into reading. Before he knew it, the sun had set and he had to turn on a lamp to keep reading.

Shachi, on the other hand, kept your mind busy. He took you out on the town, dragging you into every clothing shop and making you try anything on that even might look good on you. He pulled you into dessert shops and trinket stores and forced you to go on a beach walk with him. He was your best friend for a reason.

“What if he doesn’t apologize?” you asked him, watching the sun sink. “Then you don’t talk to him, no matter what,” Shachi responded.

Law was still shut away in his office when you returned, and your heart felt a soft ache. He hadn’t even noticed your absence. 

“Come on,” Shachi said gently. “You can sleep in our room.”

“I should go talk to-”

“No,” Shachi said firmly. “He always does this. He needs to learn his lesson.” So you slept in the crew bunkhouse for the first time in months. Nobody asked questions, everyone just accepted it. You suspected Shachi had filled them in. 

It took Law a few minutes to realize what was wrong. He had come into his room silently and brushed his teeth in the dark before bed like always. It was quieter than usual. And when he went to lay down, the bed was still made. As he pulled the covers back, he couldn’t help but notice how unnatural it felt. But he couldn’t place why.

It was too cold, he realized. And he quickly flicked on a light in the room to find it empty. Thoughts raced through his mind. Where were you? Had you gone missing? Had the Navy or someone else captured you to turn you in for a bounty? 

He quickly walked to the shared common room, where he found Penguin and Ikkaku sitting. “Did you go to the island?” he asked, scanning the room. It was too late for you to be up, but he had to double check. 

They both nodded, and Law tried not to panic. “Did Y/N come back?”

“Yeah,” Penguin affirmed. “We had dinner with them and Shachi, and we all walked back together.” He gave Ikakku a nervous glance before continuing. “I think they’re sleeping in the shared bunkhouse.”

“What?” Law hissed. “Why?” But Ikkaku and Penguin both shrugged, and Law turned and stormed out the door, making a beeline for the bunkhouse. 

He flung the door open, searching for you. He quickly found you in the bunk below Shachi, and he walked over to where you were sleeping. 

“What are you doing?” Law said, shaking you lightly. “Come to bed.”

You groaned in your sleep and pushed him away. You never slept well in the bunkhouse. You were a light sleeper, any type of noise made you wake up. 

“Y/N,” Law said, shaking you harder. “Let’s go.” 

“Law?” Your eyes finally opened, your voice full of exhaustion and sleep. Once you realized it was him, you slapped a hand over your mouth. Silent Treatment. 

Law could see the hurt and anger in your eyes when you recognized him, and his heart constricted when you turned away from him. 

“Can we talk about what’s going on? Please?” he begged. He was trying not to disturb others, but you could hear them beginning to stir. 

You almost caved, but Shachi came to your rescue. He hopped down from his bed and put himself between you and Law. “You can talk in the morning,” Shachi said. “Y/N wants to be here, so let them sleep here.”

Law tried to look past Shachi to you. “I know you can’t stand sleeping here. Just come to bed. Please.”

“Captain.” Shachi’s voice was on the verge of dangerous defiance. “Leave.”

Law stared at him, not sure what to make of Shachi’s protectiveness over you. His gaze was almost challenging, but Shachi refused to back down. He could hear the others in the room starting to stir, and he knew he was only embarrassing you, so he conceded. “I’m coming back first thing.”

“That’s fine,” Shachi said. “If Y/N wants to talk then, you’re welcome to have a conversation.”

Law slept horribly that night. His fingers kept reaching out for you. The bed felt too big, the covers weren’t warm enough. He finally got up and started reading. He was too anxious to sleep.

So were you. You were tossing and turning every 20 minutes, trying to get comfortable. You couldn’t sleep without Law’s heartbeat thrumming in your ears. But Shachi made you promise to never admit it. 

Law was sitting in the hallway outside the door when you went to get breakfast. You almost tripped over him, and when he saw you, he immediately stood to his feet. His tired gold eyes pierced into your soul, and you could see he was in rough shape.  “Can we talk now?” He tried to keep the desperation out of his voice, but you could hear it loud and clear. 

You gave a panicked look to Shachi, but he only gave you a smile and a small nod, encouraging you on. 

You gave Law a nod in agreement. You still weren’t ready to talk to him, but you could listen. 

“I did something yesterday,” Law said, closing the door to his office as you walked in. “I snapped at you when you were excited about something. I prioritized my studies over you and I’m sorry.”

You watched him closely, making sure his words were genuine. Law had a tendency to apologize when he knew you wanted to hear it, not when he actually felt bad about it. 

“I’ve been doing that a lot lately,” he continued. “I tend to get obsessed with my work, and my relationships hurt because of it. And I know it’s not fair to ask you, but I need you to tell me when I’m hurting you. Because I don’t want to hurt you. That’s the last thing I want. So please…tell me. Yell at me. Smack me. Just don’t…don’t disappear on me. Please.”

Your heart melted at his words. You walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. “And you won’t get mad?”

“I promise I won’t.”

You gave him a mischievous grin. “Even if I smack you really hard?” 

“I feel like I’m going to regret saying that,” he groaned.

You giggled and gave him a soft kiss. “Too late, Captain.” You rested your head on his shoulder, his familiar scent making your eyes start to droop. “Can we go back to bed now?”

“Bed would be nice,” he mumbled into your hair, already pulling you toward his private room. 

Ace

Fifteen people in the bar, and your boyfriend had flirted with every single one. 

Friendly. That’s what he always called it. He was just being friendly. But you saw the way those commoners looked at him, the lust in their eyes. Getting with a pirate would be thrilling, they’d whisper when his back was turned. He never seemed to hear them talk about him, but he’d always be around them. Convenient. 

“You shouldn’t be bothered,” he’d always say. “You know that I’ll always choose you.”

But you were bothered. You hated the pit of jealousy that formed in your gut every time a new person walked up to him. They were always so touchy, rubbing their hands along his shoulders, and the daring ones would even venture down his chest. Like he was their plaything. But he didn’t belong to them. 

He was yours. Just not in this bar. Or any bar. 

Maybe it was time to give him a taste of his own medicine. You were certain he wouldn’t be able to stand the thought of you flirting with another man. 

Your eyes met an attractive man across the bar, and you decided it would be a good theory to test. 

Seeing what you were about to do, Marco grabbed your wrist, pulling you back down into the seat. “Wait,” he muttered.

“Stay out of it, Marco,” you hummed softly. Your voice was pleasant, but there was a threatening undertone to it. 

“If you want to make him jealous that will end in a fight and change nothing except the intensity of your makeup sex, go for it.” 

Your cheeks brightened at his words, and you finally broke your eye contact with the random man to look at the commander. “Marco-!”

“But if you want to make him panic and stay by your side from now on, listen.” Marco’s voice got low. “Ace looks over here at least once every five minutes. He’s checking on you. I’m guessing jealous sex is his-“

“MARCO!”

“Anyway, I guarantee if you vanish, it’ll make him sweat. Just go back to the Moby Dick, and crash in my room for the night if you want. Give him a bit of the silent treatment. Don’t lean into what he wants. Push away, and I know he’ll stop.”

“How?”

“Because he’s head over heels for you, dummy. Even right now, all he wants is your attention. Don’t give it to him and you’ll cut the bad habits.”

It was worth a shot, and you wouldn’t have to talk to any sleazy guys to test the theory. 

“You’re the best, Marco.” You flashed him a grin and stood, giving Ace one last glance. “But never talk about my sex life again.”

“Oh please,” Marco scoffed. “You have no idea what the commanders talk about during shower time, do you?”

Your eyes widened in horror, but Marco just laughed. “Relax! It was a joke!”

“It better be!” you hissed. “Or I’ll skin that boy alive.”

You gave one more glance to Ace. He was caught up in some conversation with a woman, giving her most of his attention. You rolled your eyes, jealousy panging in your chest, and slipped out the door. 

The first two times Ace glanced over at your table, he wasn’t worried about your absence. But the third time, he started to get a bad feeling. You had been gone for too long. 

He wandered back to the table, trying to appear casual and unbothered. “Hey Marco,” he said, bringing him another beer. “Where’s Y/N?”

Marco knew he was using the beer as a bribe, but took it anyway. “Not sure, they walked out about thirty minutes ago. Hasn’t been back since.”

“What?” Ace could feel himself sobering up, worried about your safety. “Where’d they go?”

“They seemed tired,” Marco said, watching Ace carefully. 

“But they always tell me when they’re going home,” Ace grumbled, looking around. “I’m gonna head back too. Kind of over this whole scene.”

Marco chuckled, reading through Ace’s words, but he didn’t say anything further. He watched Ace walk out the door and back to the ship without so much as a goodbye to anyone in the bar, and he knew his plan would work. 

Ace tried not to panic when you weren’t in his room. Sometimes you slept in other places, like the common room or the bunkhouse. Especially on drunken nights, you always seemed to find some random place to pass out. But you always told him when you were going to bed. 

He didn’t sleep well. He wandered around the ship several times, trying to appear unbothered. But he was searching every nook and cranny, desperately looking for where you had landed yourself. 

He didn’t see you again until the next morning, sitting at the breakfast table with Marco and a few others. You were completely surrounded by people, but Ace stopped by your seat on the way to the breakfast line. 

“Hey.” He touched your shoulder and you stiffened at the contact, which was odd. Normally you leaned into his touch. You always looked up at him full of love, silently begging him for a morning kiss. But this morning you didn’t even bother to look his way. “Where’d you end up last night?” he asked. 

“My room,” Marco answered for you, laughing. “That sure was a shock to walk into!”

You laughed, shoving Marco slightly. You still refused to acknowledge Ace, though it was starting to get difficult. “Hey Thornton, you left shortly before me. Where did you end up?”

“I swear I could’ve made it back to my room if I wanted to!” he bellowed, and everyone laughed. 

“Right!” you laughed. “I bet the deck all night sure was cozy!”

You were ignoring him. Ace was sure of it. Had something happened between you and Marco…no. The two of you had only ever been friends, so close you might as well have been siblings. 

He finally left you alone, his brain in overdrive trying to figure out what had made you so upset since the last time he spoke to you. 

“You flirt too much,” Marco said, joining him in line. 

Ace looked back at him, confused. “What?”

“You’re wondering why Y/N is ignoring you, right?” Ace shrugged, trying not to show that it was bothering him too much, but Marco clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Drop the act, man. You should care. And I know you do. I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears trying to figure it out.”

“I just like to talk to people,” Ace defended. “What’s the harm in that?”

“The harm is you don’t just talk. You flirt.” Marco chuckled, shaking his head. “I know what you’re doing, dude, and I don’t blame you. But you’ve got a good thing. Don’t lose it because you want to…talk.”

Ace frowned, annoyed with being called out so personally, but he thought about it while he ate his breakfast alone. He knew how much you hated the way he treated local islanders when you all went out. But he loved the jealous, possessive side of you. He loved watching you fight for him, even if you were fighting with him. 

He found you lounging on the deck, reading a magazine. He walked over to you and sat on the edge of the lounger. He saw your eyes flick up and then immediately back to the magazine, and he could’ve sworn the air temperature dropped 10 degrees. 

“Hey,” he cooed, his hands dancing up your legs, finding the spots he knew you were ticklish. 

You tried to move your legs, but there weren't many places to escape to without getting up and walking away. 

“Please talk to me,” he pouted. He leaned against you, pushing your magazine out of the way and resting his head on your chest, looking up at you with his signature puppy dog eyes. 

You turned your head away from him, trying your best to ignore him even though he was physically on top of you, pinning you down. 

“Pleaseeeee,” Ace begged. His hands came up and playfully squished your cheeks, and you struggled to keep a straight face. He was so good at making you smile. 

“Go away,” you finally said, trying to push him off of you. It was useless, but you had to try. 

“You speak!” Ace cheered, and you rolled your eyes. You were tired of his antics. You wanted an apology. 

“I’m so lonely without you, babe,” Ace sang offkey, his fingers tracing along your shoulders. “Please come back to me, my loveeeee.”

You didn’t react, but you could feel your vision starting to get blurry. He was too stubborn, but you couldn’t keep doing this. You couldn’t keep being humiliated and forced to watch Ace live the best of both worlds. 

“I’m sorry,” Ace finally whispered when he saw your eyes starting to get watery. “I know I’m a little insane.”

You finally looked at him, still silent. Waiting for more. 

“And I’m sorry I’ve been hurting you for so long,” he said. “I don’t want to lose you. So no more flirting with random people in bars. You’re mine. And I’m yours.”

“Promise?” you whispered, your voice breaking. 

“I promise,” he said, nuzzling into your chest and hugging you tight. He’d hold you close and never let you slip away again.

[wonijinjin]

in sickness and in health

author’s note: please take care of yourselves everyone! being sick is not fun. dedicating this to my dear @babyleostuff <3

synopsis: when you get food poisoning cheol is ready to sacrifice his night to take care of you.

word count: 1.0k | genre: fluff, comfort | pairing: cheol x gn! reader | warnings: mentions of throwing up, being sick, fever, exhaustion, bad mental health

it was around 12am when you realised something was wrong; you never really got sick, but you could feel it coming before it even happened; head pounding and shivers crawling up and down your spine, making you anxious. after a bit of panicking about why you felt this bad you calmed yourself down and went back to scrolling through social media on your phone, scared of waking and troubling the man next to you. seungcheol was already asleep by that time, being extremely tired from working since 3am, having been to several music show recordings and dance practices. you found him so peaceful as he slept and you were so glad to see him rest after many days of hard work. however as the minutes went by while looking at your phone you could sense an increasing nauseating feeling in your stomach, not being able to focus on the blogpost you were reading anymore, being too occupied with trying to make it stop and squirming under the blankets of your cozy king sized bed to make it more bearable. as if on cue to the peak of your struggles cheol stirred in his sleep next to your helpessly thrashing form, turning to you, his sleepy frame trying to process the cause of your distress. “what’s wrong, my love?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. “don’t worry, nothing. go back to sleep.” you tried to sound as convincing as you could. he didn’t buy it. “love, i know something is up. tell me, please?” he begged, more alert when he saw how your protests were interrupted by a weak sob. “i think i am gonna throw up cheol.” you mumbled with a terrified look on your face, trying to stay perfectly still so your upset stomach could get some relief. seungcheol first thought that you were trying to pull a prank on him since you never got sick, but when he looked at your features closer he realised how pale you looked, and how sweat was glistening on your skin. “you sure? like right now?” he sat up in no time as the question left his mouth, ready to take you to the bathroom to let out whatever was making you feel so miserable. you didn’t have time to answer him whatsoever as you bolted towards the mentioned room, getting to the toilet just in time for the agonising pain and suffering of the next few hours to begin. in your hurry you had a hopeless attempt to lock the door in order to shut cheol out; you hated if he saw you in any other state than your most perfect one, if he saw your imperfections, how you felt unwell sometimes or how you struggled with life from time to time. he always scolded you for thinking this way, but you couldn’t stop it; you wanted to be his strong partner, someone who he could rely on whenever he needed to. “i am coming in.” you heard him say and suddenly you felt a warm hand on your back and another one taking your hair out of your sweaty face, snapping you out of your feverish daze. “i am here, you are okay, love. breathe for me please. that’s it, good. let it all out. don’t worry i am here.” you could hear cheol’s voice through your eardums, blood pumping in your veins with much more speed than ever. seungcheol held you close to him as you spat in the bowl one last time, making sure you were really done before placing you on his lap, your knees no longer hitting the cold tiles of the bathroom, only feeling his warmth surrounding you. “my poor baby.” his voice was low and hurt while he kissed your forehead, frowning upon sensing how your skin burned under his touch. “you are burning up. you definitely have a fever my dear.“ he announced, but you could barely register his voice and words; you were utterly drained, barely able to keep your head up straight.

cheol of course took note of this, gently guiding you to lean into him even more while he got comfortable on the floor, cradling you into his chest. “i know you don’t feel good my love. do you know how did this happen?” he wondered with concern laced in his words. you slightly shifted in his arms, looking up at him. “i think i might have food poisoning, cheol.” he cooed at you, kissing the top of your head, rocking you from side to side as you whimpered in pain. “it’s okay love. it will be over soon i promise.” he chanted softly in an attempt to calm you down as exhaustion took over you, the high temperature making you shake with chills no matter how close seungcheol kept your body to his. “love, you with me?” he questioned after a few minutes of silence, but didn’t get a reply; you fell asleep fast, totally knocked out from the sudden wave of late night sickness. he was relieved to see that your immune system was trying to get that much needed sleep to heal, although he was concerned about the effects of not taking medication before your slumber; he didn’t have the heart to wake you so he let you rest anyways.

he never stopped holding you through the night, not even when he moved you to the bedroom and got a cold towel to put on your head, moving a trash can beside your bed just in case, or when he stayed up all night to watch over your distressed form, wishing that you would get better by the morning, kissing your cheek from time to time to let you know that he was there, that he was gonna take care of you no matter what.

[reidsgfbf]

under pressure || s. reid

description : in which reader forgets their weighted blanket, but spencer is more than happy to be their substitute

word count : 791 words!

notes : gn! reader, implied neurodivergent! reader, morgan gets bullied

Something you had always struggled with at work was understimulation. You never allowed yourself to stim, mostly for fear of judgement, but also because you feared it wasn’t professional for a seasoned BAU agent to stim in front of your coworkers.

Today was not that much different. After a quick bathroom break to stim happily now that you and the team were on the jet back to Quantico after a gruelling case in Denver, Colorado, you had returned to your spot on the sofa, rummaging through your go-bag to try and find your weighted blanket, only to remember you’d foolishly left it at home in your haste to get to the jet on time for the briefing after Hotch had called you about the case.

A little sigh escaped you. Luckily, most of the team were too preoccupied to hear your dismay; Hotch and Rossi sleeping, JJ and Emily playing snap on the games table, Morgan listening to his MP3 player and Spencer reading. It was him who heard your noise of consternation, and he looked up from his book. Upon seeing your perturbed expression, he closed it and inched out of his seat, approaching you.

“Are… you okay?” he asked, slightly nervously.

“I’m fine.” You told him, but it was clear he didn’t believe you.

Spencer raised a brow. “If you were fine, you wouldn’t have sighed like that. Now answer my question. Are you okay?”

Another sigh escaped you. “I forgot to pack my weighted blanket.” you admitted awkwardly. “I’m feeling really badly understimulated and I need some deep pressure.”

Spencer paused. “Deep pressure?” he repeated, momentarily dumbfounded before a bashful flush painted his cheeks pink. “Uh, would you like me to be your substitute?” he offered timidly.

You paused. Spencer Reid? Offering to be your weighted blanket? The opportunity was way too good to pass up.

“Yes.” you nodded in confirmation, moving to lie down on the sofa, and beckoning Spencer closer. He hesitantly did so, before pausing.

“Are you sure?” he asked, just to confirm. You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, but a small grin tugged at your lips.

“Just crush me, Dr. Reid.” you replied, so he gingerly laid on top of you. “Put more of your weight on me.” you ordered and he hesitated.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Spencer protested shyly.

“Put your weight on me!” you laughed, and he did so after another moment’s hesitation, sensing that you really did need it. You relaxed under him as you felt his weight on you, a blissful smile on your face.

You murmured your gratitude, and promptly fell asleep under Spencer, who smiled in astonishment at how fast you’d succumbed to the Sandman. Though, admittedly, his eyes were getting heavy too… and your soft and slow breathing was lulling him to sleep… Surely you wouldn’t mind if he took a quick cat nap, would you? With that decided, he fell asleep too, his snoring mingling with yours.

Unbeknownst to the two of you sleeping beauties, the rest of the team had noticed what was going on, and even Hotch and Rossi had woken up. Morgan grinned.

“Oh, babygirl is going to flip if she doesn’t get any evidence of the two lovebirds snuggling.” he laughed, taking out his phone to take a picture, Emily following suit.

JJ rolled her eyes. “Leave them alone.” she scolded the two, with no real heat, as she too took out her phone and snapped a few pictures of you and Spencer slumbering together.

“Let them be.” Hotch, ever the hypocrite, added, as he also snapped a picture that may or may not eventually become his wallpaper for the next month.

It wasn’t until the plane was due to land that someone woke you and Spencer up, shaking your shoulders.

“Come on kids, the jet’s gonna land.” Rossi announced. Spencer blinked blearily as he slowly woke up, before jolting up and straddling you when he realised what position he’d woken up in. You did so too, accidentally smacking your forehead against Spencer’s making the both of you groan and hold a hand against your injured brows.

Morgan snorted. “You two really are made for each other. You’re both as graceful as baby deer on ice.” You and Spencer glared at the bald man, who raised his hands up in surrender.

“Shut it, baldilocks.” you grumbled tiredly and Spencer snickered, causing Morgan to fake a gasp of faux indignance.

“Agent.” Hotch scolded you, though there was a grin on his face.

“Sorry Morgan, for pointing out your shiny bald head.” you apologised half-heartedly, making the rest of the team laugh at Morgan’s affronted splutters. A little smile appeared on your face. Who knew forgetting your weighted blanket would lead to this?

[er-osion]

Grocery Store Shenanigans

pairing: Jason Todd x gn!Reader

summary: You and your boyfriend go grocery shopping

word count: 1.3k

warnings: one tiny bit of sexual innuendo, fluff

⋄∘∗⋅⋆≁≁⋆⋅∗∘⋄

“Did you remember the list?” You asked your handsome boyfriend as the two of you got out of the car.

“Of course. Did you remember the bags?” Jason replied as both of you approached the entrance to the grocery store.

“Of course.” Jason grabs a cart as you two enter the store. It’s 11 o'clock at night right now, and you and Jason are at one of the few grocery stores in Gotham that are open 24 hours a day. Because of Jason’s work as Red Hood, your routines can be abruptly upended at times but you’ve learned to adapt and overcome. You love him, so you do what you can to support and be there for him, even if that means sacrificing your sleep every once in a while.

Tonight, Jason took patrol off and you two spent the evening watching reality shows on your couch until you suddenly remembered you were out of vital breakfast and lunch ingredients for tomorrow. That’s how you and Jason ended up at the grocery store so late at night. You actually don’t mind that much, the grocery store is empty with the exception of the employees so you and Jason have the whole place to yourselves. It’s very quiet and quaint and you relish the privacy of shopping with your boyfriend.

You and Jason wandered to the produce aisle first, where you would read the list in your hand and then grab the item that was written down. Jason watched you calmly with an unreadable expression that still somehow held affection. Jason lived for these moments. The moments when life got mundane but he still got to share it with you. There was something so domestic about grocery shopping together, only doubled by the emptiness of the store that gave the two of you your own little world. You and Jason had to go grocery shopping regularly, what with your careful meal planning (and Jason’s enormous appetite) so this was an errand you both got to indulge in frequently.

“And the eggs…” You absentmindedly muttered to yourself as you picked out a carton of eggs and handed them to Jason to put them in the cart.

“Eggcelent choice, my love.” Jason quipped.

You snorted and rolled your eyes, “Leave the puns to your brother, Jaybird.”

“You’ve gotta be yolking me, Grayson’s puns don’t nearly measure up to mine.”

“If you don’t drop the sorry egg jokes you’re gonna have to scramble to find a ride home.”

Jason choked on his laugh and began pushing the cart so the two of you could continue your shopping. You made your way to the bread aisle and started filling the cart with your favorite carbs. Jason piped up again with a coy tone of voice, “Is your full name ‘food cake’? Cause you sure are an angel.”

Your head snapped toward him. You tried to conceal the smile growing on your face but your eyes, in betrayal, were full of mirth. “Are you seriously flirting with me in the bread aisle?” You asked incredulously.

“Why not? Just like you, bread is soft and delicious. I can’t think of a better place to make some moves.”

“Wow, you’re a real modern day poet.”

“Hey, if I put you in the cart with all the other loaves of bread, will you let me eat you when we get home, too?” Jason leaned forward against the cart so his figure was floating just before you, his eyebrow raised suggestively but his tone playful.

Your mouth dropped momentarily in shock. “Unbelievable. Jason Todd, you should be ashamed of yourself.” You tried to hide how flustered you were with a reprimanding tone, but you could tell by Jason’s smirk, that you’d failed.

“My question still stands.” He reminds you.

“As does your audacity, it seems.”

“Ouch. Here I am, so sweet trying to seduce you, and here you are, insulting me.” Your giant boyfriend put his hand over his heart dramatically.

“If I wanted something sweet, I’d bust into the grapes we have in the cart.”

“You have some spunk tonight.”

“TLC will do that to a lady.”

“But of course.” Jason agreed and moved the cart forward so you two could finish up your grocery store run. The two of you were walking side by side, chit chatting about nothing consequential. Jason then slipped his hand into yours and you laced your fingers together in response. His hold on your hand was firm and all encompassing, like a hug, it was unbelievably comforting. You brushed your fingers against his knuckles and from the corner of your eyes, you could see a relaxed smile grow on his face. Just being in contact with you brought a level of support and stability that let Jason relax in a way he never thought possible before meeting you.

The two of you made your rounds around the store and finally came to the check out. The tired college student at the check out greeted both of you with familiarity. You and Jason kept exchanging mischievous glances at each other, trying to hold back laughter at the checker’s obvious lethargy. After Jason paid for the groceries, you packed them back into the cart and the two of you snuck out of the building, as if you were newbie criminals robbing a store.

In the parking lot, Jason motioned with his hand to the cart with a prankish expression and you mirrored it when you processed what he was suggesting. You moved the food to one side of the cart and then Jason helped you into the cart. Both of you were full of giggles as you adjusted your seat in the cart. It was times like this, when you were especially appreciative of your boyfriend’s inhuman strength, it gave you moments to be extra childish with him. After you were comfortable, Jason reclaimed his spot at the handlebars of the cart and put flourish in getting into a ‘ready’ position.

“Okay, capitan, ready for take off?” Jason asked with faux seriousness.

You responded with equal gravitas, “All’s clear here, private.”

“Ground control has started the countdown. In 3, 2,…. and 1.” On ‘1’, Jason took off with a powerful speed. Both of you failed at holding down your laughter, the merry sound ringing throughout the empty parking lot. Jason expertly maneuvered you through the empty lot, wind blowing across your face. You gazed at Jason, your eyes full of love and admiration. It made you unbelievably happy to see Jason happy, as carefree as he could be, like right now. He deserved so much in the world, so much happiness, it made you proud that you could be a source for it. Your primary goal in life now, was to make sure the love of your life always felt at ease around you, and Jason made sure you knew that’s exactly what you did for him everyday. Jason met your gaze with equal pools of love. He’d never understand what he did to deserve you, but he’s grateful every single day that you’re in his life. You’re like oxygen. He doesn’t just want you, he needs you. Jason wants to be a constant source of happiness for you. He wants to make you laugh and smile as much as humanly possible, and if he accomplishes that by being a little childish with you, you bet your ass he’d do that everyday.

Your combined laughter and the light of your grins drowned out the sounds of traffic and sirens so customary to Gotham. There was nothing that existed outside of you, Jason, and this parking lot. Even grocery store runs were special with Jason, there was something so perfect in the domesticity you two shared. Like the expertly crafted epilogue in a romance movie, neither of you wanted this moment to end.

[mxltifxnd0m]

boyfriend headcanons ⟡ d. winchester

pairings: dean winchester x reader, dean winchester x gn! reader

word count: 1.2K

warnings: no use of 'y/n', fluff, one suggestive comment, a smidge of angst, reader is to be implied as a hunter, lowercase intended

a/n: SURPRISE! i made the dean version of bf headcanons. i stayed up until 3am making this bc my mind had ideas and i didn't want to lose them lol (ik im crazy 😁) also technically my first fic for dean lmao

i hope you all enjoy and please reblog and comment, it really helps out!!

𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴��𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

⟡ before dating you:

was super attracted to you before he even said a single word to you 

it was definitely lust at first sight (he wouldn't have minded sleeping with you) 

then you opened your mouth, and he was like, oh man, they're gonna be trouble, aren't they (as if he isn't trouble as well) 

you guys bickered a lot. like A LOT to the point where sam would have to remove himself from the room or get in between you two in order to stop the bickering 

the bickering got so bad that sam had to lock the two of you in the motel room sam and he were sharing and didn't let you guys out until the two of you could have a civil conversation 

you guys eventually stopped bickering out of malice after finding common ground between the two of you 

there was bickering but it read more of an old married couple bantering with one another 

then somehow, you guys became friends, and the physical attraction that dean had to you had morphed into something else and then he realized that he liked you 

he only confessed his feelings when you had a close call with a ghoul and blurted out his feelings to you when patching you up 

⟡ dating dean winchester:

you would describe dating dean as a roller coaster, but like all relationships, it has its ups and downs 

it was hard to have vulnerable conversations with dean without the infamous hunters' helper (alcohol lol)

you guys fought a lot at the beginning of your relationship bc you were fighting tooth and nail to get him to at least try and talk to you 

you soon realized that you would have to take a different approach to it and eventually let him come to you when he needed it 

it took a while, but once he put his walls down and trusted you, it seemed like a weight was lifted off of him when he finally told you a sliver of what was going on in his head 

⟡ soft dean!

now, this is where we get soft! dean 

we all know that dean is secretly a softy at heart, and you see it in the more quiet moments with him

he'll stare at you when the two of you are researching or when you're bustling around the kitchen, prepping and cooking lunch for the three of you 

and without fail, a cute blush will appear on his face, making his freckles pop against the red hue of his cheeks as you catch him staring at you  "what are you looking at?" you asked with a wide smile on your face.  "just you sweetheart." he tries to play off his flustered state with a wink, but you shook your head, knowing he was a bit embarrassed he got caught staring.

speaking about getting flustered, he loves teasing you and trying to get you flustered with fleeting touches, flirty gestures, and outright whispering the filthiest things that he wants to do you during the most inconvenient times, like if you're on a case or researching 

what he didn't take into account when he started it was that you would dish it right back at him

he loves it when you keep him on your toes 

⟡ pet names

OH another thing, PET NAMES  he loves using pet names for you 

we have the usual sweetheart, babe (not baby bc you know you come in a close third after sam and the impala) (he's tried arguing that's not true, but you knew it and understood you came after both of them).

he would def call you honey, beautiful, angel, and some variation of your name/nickname 

if he's in a playful mood, he'd probably call you borderline cringe pet names like pumpkin, sweet cheeks, pookie these are the ones you roll your eyes at since he knows you hate them

⟡ love langauges

now, his love languages, his main ones to give are acts of service, physical affection, and quality time, while the ones he likes to receive are physical touch, words of affirmation, and quality time 

⟡ physical touch

now, physical touch is a given for dean  he's a very tactical man and is a sucker for it 

when he can, he'll always be touching you, holding your hand or resting on your shoulder, thighs pressed together while sitting together eating in a diner booth, cuddling while watching a movie or always being in his arms while sleeping together, making out wherever whenever (his favorite place is obviously in the backseat of baby) 

but there are days when he needs physical affection from you, and you gladly give it to him, and he's a sucker for you when you play with his hair 

PDA, man is shameless with the PDA  he doesn't care he will kiss you no matter what and when he can  he loves you, and even if he's afraid to say it, he'll definitely show it to you 

⟡ acts of service

which brings me to acts of service  dean will do anything for you even if you didn't ask for him to do it  makes breakfast for you almost every morning, gives you his flannel when you're cold (he loves to see you in his clothes), replaces the lightbulb in your lamp when you mentioned it was flickering, taking care of you when you get drunk (he did this even before the two of you started to date and bickered the entire time), but the list goes on and on 

dean just likes to take care of the people he loves (it was practically ingrained into him at a young age) 

⟡ quality time

he also likes spending time with you it doesn't matter if the two of you aren't talking and working on your own tasks; he likes being in your presence (it soothes him)  with how crazy his life is, he loves the mundane things/tasks he does with you

sometimes, he'll go run errands with you, not bc he's bored and wants to avoid research (which is actually the main excuse at times) but, he likes the sense of normalcy it brings him when the two of you are together, and when you spend time with him 

⟡ words of affirmation

now, dean would never admit it to you (or to himself), but he needs to be reassured 

his mind is a dangerous place for him, and he can find himself drowning in his self-deprecating and self-destructive thoughts (these are also the days he needs you the most, and your touch is grounding to him) 

your words act as a lifeboat for him in the chaotic storm that is his mind and calms them down significantly 

he slowly works on his self-esteem and self-worth, but with your help, it's a little easier for him 

⟡ protective

this is a given, but he is SO protective of you 

dean is a fiercely protective person at his core and will do anything and everything to keep the people that he loves safe, and now that includes you 

some arguments were had when dean was being overbearing and flat out refusing to let you go on certain hunts with them bc it was too dangerous. you had to remind him that you were a hunter before you met him and will continue being one until the day you decide to try and retire or die 

he doesn't like it when you hunt alone, and so he always tries to come with you or send sam with you if he's indisposed for some reason 

he's only like this bc he can't lose one of the best things in his life 

[alatushours]

☆ SLEEPYHEAD, feat. roronoa zoro — no matter how tired he is, zoro is always willing to keep you company.

contents. gender neutral reader, fluff fluff fluff, established relationship. soft zoro ! ! ! post-timeskip but can be read any time after the crew receives the sunny. tw. insomnia, reader is gn but lives in the women’s quarters, maybe ooc zoro ♡ word count. 616

notes. aaand mari finally makes a comeback !!! so sorry to keep you all waiting for so long, i lost my spark for a while. however i am excited to say that this is my official one piece writing debut !!! (love potion doesn’t count guys) i think about zoro everyday,,, he’s such a comfort character to me <3 sorry for any mistakes, i haven’t written in a very long time ♡

WHEN YOU CAN’T SLEEP, you go look for zoro on the sunny.

peeking open the door of the girl's cabin, you step out in your sandals onto the wooden deck, the floorboards slightly creaking. walking to the port side of the ship, you watch the reflection of the stars over the open sea before moving to search for your lover.

sometimes zoro might be sitting on night watch at the bow, or in the kitchen for a midnight snack. most of the time though, he’s up in the crow’s nest training or catching up on sleep away from the rowdiness of the men’s cabin.

you find him doing the latter tonight, his swords cradled in his folded arms as he dozed. you smile and close the door quietly behind you, careful not to disturb him.

however, zoro stirs, his eye peeking open. “hey. what’re ya doing?”

well, there goes that. “sorry, i didn’t mean to wake you up,” you whisper. “i was just coming to look for you.”

he chuckles softly. “couldn’t sleep again, huh? why didn’t you just say so?”

you smile sheepishly. “sorry… i had too much coffee today, and then earlier me and the girls were watching a horror movie on the video transponder snail, so now i’m up.”

you shrug, and your boyfriend laughs again. “c’mere.”

you make your way to snuggle into zoro’s chest. his gold earrings clink together as he shifts, his arms moving to wrap around your waist. “how was your day?” you ask him, absentmindedly tracing the scar on his torso.

“nothin’ interesting,” he replies, his voice raspy in your ear. “just training ‘nd watch, the usual.” but you could tell he was tired, from the way he was blinking slowly every few seconds to keep himself from falling asleep. “whadda ‘bout you?”

you talk to him for a few minutes, telling him about how you and chopper caught a load of fish today (and how luffy ended up eating all of it at the end, to sanji’s anger). zoro chuckles, smiling as he listened to your ramblings.

after a while, zoro hums, his fingers tangling themselves into your hair. “sorry, i needa sleep,” he whispers in your ear. “nami said we’re gonna get to the next island real early in the mornin’ so i gotta keep watch. you can sleep here with me if ya want, though.”

“oh, okay,” you intertwine your fingers with his, making yourself comfortable against the warmth of his body. “will you call me when you wake up? i wanna watch the sunrise with you.”

your boyfriend nods slowly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “sure. now go to sleep, yeah? i’ll be here if ya need me.”

“okayyy,” you draw out the word. “oh, one more thing.”

he groans, “what is it?”

you grin at him, giving him a kiss on the lips. “i love you, ‘zo.”

zoro smacks your ass playfully, but not without returning the kiss. “yeah, yeah, i know. i love you too. now seriously, go to sleep!”

you giggle, closing your eyes to the soft lull of his breathing. eventually, you drift off to sleep, not knowing that your lover was still awake to ensure your peaceful rest.

zoro would slice up mountains, cut the moon in half and bring the pieces back to you if you asked; he'd do anything for you. your needs always come first; after all, he will always be indebted to the love that you showed him, what seemed like not so long ago. something as small as helping you fall asleep was nothing compared to your love, your utter adoration for him.

plus, he always slept better with you at his side.

end notes. the fact that it took me a month to write the first half of this and the other half in less than a day… and it’s still not even 1k words 😭 idk how i used to do it omg. but anyhoo soft zoro soft zoro soft zoro ! ! ! i’m normal about him i swear

© alatushours 2024. please do not copy, modify, or translate my work in any way, nor upload to any other platforms. in the meantime, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and consider leaving a follow! it helps a lot ♡

[trashland-llamas]

Ginger!?

[a/n; I wrote this sleep deprived, on the way to Ny (passenger prince, not the driver). Idk what ‘plum as peach’ means either]

[x gn reader]

‘When the fuck were you gonna tell me you used to be a ginger!?’ Reader slammed open the front door as they accuse the vigilante.

Looking up from his romance novel, Jason owlishly blinks at them, ‘Why hello to you too, sweet cheeks.’ Waiting for them to explain what the ruckus was about.

Having just arrived home from the Wayne manor for their weekly spot of tea with Alfred. ‘Guess what Alfred asked me today?’ Reader starts, shucking off their shoes with their bag dropped onto the floor.

They don’t give Jason any time to respond. They never do. The vigilante would just give some half assed bullshit, thinking he was some comedian.

’He asked me if I had ever seen the family photo albums and I told him no, Alfred, I haven’t.’ Digging a finger into their own chest at the word ‘me.’

‘Looked as plum as a peach, he did. So he brings out the photo albums and in it was little Jason. But not brunette.’ The finger now pointing accusatory at him. ‘No, but ginger!’

Jason’s looking at them with hearts in his eyes. If it weren’t for the leftover shock still in their system, they would’ve found it endearing. But alas, for right now, it added fuel to the fire. ‘Don’t look at me like that.’

‘Like what? Like I’m not in love with you? Can’t help it, babe.’ Jason holds up his hands. Almost as if praying for their forgiveness. Atoning for the personal slight he had committed.

‘Dyed it when I young. Then after the pit, it was permanent. Haven’t had to dye it since. It’s why you’ve never seen my roots growing out.’ Reader gave him the evil eye for a second, sussing out whether he was being truthful.

‘You vigilantes, I swear.’ They swore to themselves, going into the kitchen to make two cups of tea. Correctly assuming Jason once again forgot about taking care of his needs with how engrossed he was in his reading.

‘Still love you though, white hair and all,’ Reader whispers before placing a kiss on his temple. Handing him his cup of tea. Jason chuckles, noting that they had finally calmed down.

‘You done being feisty?’

[moonstruckme]

hi !! i saw that your requests were open and i'd really love if you wrote something with james (or poly!m !!) with a gn!reader taking up literature in uni who tends to get back pains from being hunched over reading and writing almost all hours of the day (definitely not projecting, hehe!)

i love the stuff you write and everythings just so sweetly written and portrayed so lovely !! thank you for keeping the marauders fandom alive lol

Thank you ml <3

modern au

poly!marauders x gn!reader ♡ 709 words

James plops down beside you on the couch, and when he pokes your spine you straighten reflexively. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, only half in the room as the rest of your brain continues working on your essay. 

“Are you really not done yet?” Sirius asks, putting a bag of popcorn in the microwave. You start typing faster. They’re going to want to start the movie soon, and then your laptop is going to be wrested away from you whether you’ve reached a stopping point or not. “I can’t remember the last time I spent more than a couple hours on an essay. You’ve been laboring over that thing all day.” 

“It’s a long one,” you admit, “but it’s hardly labor.” 

“Sure looks like it, when your back is hunched worse than a coal miner’s.” 

You give him a deadpan look. Sirius glances down at your fingers, still typing rapidly, and shudders. 

“Fucked how you can do that.” 

“Literature students might be the new coal miners,” says James.

You hum dubiously, looking back to your work. “Not sure that’s a super fair comparison.” 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t quite say that,” Remus agrees with you, “but it’s not like you’re not doing yourself any harm when you write all day like this, love. Your back is already hurting you—” 

“You’ll probably get carpal tunnel,” James adds. 

“—and I know looking at your laptop for this long gives you headaches.” Remus’ slow strides into the living room feel like a countdown clock. You manage to hammer out the end of your sentence just before he pulls your laptop out from under your fingers. “If you’re not careful, it’s gonna fuck up your sleep. That’s enough for tonight.” 

You sigh but don’t complain, rolling back your shoulders to ease some of the tautness there. Your spine crackles, quicker and louder than the popcorn popping in the kitchen, and James flinches away from you. 

“God, make it stop,” he pleads. 

You ignore him and roll your neck to the side, eliciting a series of cracks from there too. James makes a dramatically horrified sound and squeezes his eyes shut, and Remus grabs your head in both hands, restraining you. 

“Don’t,” he tells you severely. “We’ve been over this.” 

“Freak,” Sirius says lovingly as he pulls the bag of popcorn from the microwave. 

“It hurts,” you complain. 

“Sounds like it, fuck,” James agrees emphatically. Now the danger has passed, he leans towards you again, splaying a protective palm over your mid back. “Sirius, could you grab my icy hot from the fridge? Here, lovie, lie down.” 

Remus lets go of your face somewhat reluctantly, letting James help you lay across his lap. His hand smooths up and down your spine, pressing down lightly upon muscles rigid with tension. You sort of wish he’d just crush you. You’re sure he could, he doesn’t spend all that time at the gym for nothing. 

“I’m gonna get you a back brace,” Remus mutters, fondness under the veneer of resentment in his tone. 

“That'd be kind of hot.” Sirius lifts your feet, dropping down onto the couch before passing James the tube of cream. “Those are the strappy looking things, right? I’m for it.” 

“I do not consent,” you say clearly, then hiss as James applies the cool balm to your lower back. 

He and Sirius laugh. Remus reaches over to press your shoulders back down. 

“Easy, angel,” says James. “It’ll help.” 

“I didn’t know it’d be this cold,” you defend yourself, a little laugh tripping out of you as well. “You do this voluntarily?” 

“You’ll see why in a bit.”

“If I were spending all of my Saturday hunched over my laptop and a bunch of books,” Sirius says, “I think I’d at least use the right ‘your.’ What are they teaching you, babe?” 

You suppress a groan. You’d sent Sirius a grammatically incorrect text two days ago, and he’s yet to stop lording it over you. 

“That was autocorrect,” you tell him again. 

He hums noncommittally, tracing a path up your calf with his forefinger. “I’m just saying, can it really be worth it if we’re making those sorts of mistakes? Will they even still give you your degree?” 

“Sirius, their back is getting tense again. Knock it off.”

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

lover, you should've come over - m. schmidt

a/n: you guys should have seen this one coming! as always i appreciate any likes and reblogs and hope you enjoy :) warnings: suggestive themes, big angst, lots of talk about tattoos and pain and needles, mike having horrible anxiety and commitment issues, reader is mostly gender neutral except for one thing ! tattoo aftercare, hurt/comfort, kissing word count: 3.6k summary: you get a tattoo, and it terrifies mike. mostly because he realizes how much you love him. pairing: mike schmidt x gn!reader now playing: lover, you should've come over - jeff buckley "my body turns and yearns/for a sleep that won't ever come/it's never over/my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder."

Penny has done almost all of your tattoos, save for the stick and poke star you gave yourself while you were way too high to be handling that sort of equipment, and a few flash designs you’ve gotten for holidays. And usually, you keep it simple and easy, pitching a design idea and getting a finished stencil a few hours later.

But this time, you go into the shop a few months before you plan to get the tattoo and describe to her what you want. She’s shocked that you want a half sleeve—It’s a big step, she tells you, and it’ll mean sitting for a few hours while she does her work. It’ll be painful, and the design will take a few weeks to get made, because she wants to give you the best possible design.

She does good work. When you visit again in about three weeks, you put down a deposit and make an official date to get it done. October 9th.

You go home that night to your small, but warm home to find your boyfriend trying to make chicken parm. His goal all year has been to learn how to cook, not just to make things out of a box. You know a bit better how to cook, but you let him improve his skills, always providing helpful, gentle critiques.

Abby is worse at being gentle.

She’s brutal with her brother’s cooking, and even though Mike loves your gentle words, he appreciates Abby’s feedback, and just wants her to eat a full plate of food before bed each night.

Tonight, his food smells good. You mentioned about a month ago how you missed your mom’s chicken parm, and since then, he’s been reading and researching different recipes at work. Ever since he quit working at Freddy’s, he’s put down the book of dreams and has picked up cookbooks, working his way up slowly.

You tell him he’ll be making Thanksgiving Dinner in no time. You kiss his jaw when you say that, and later, he returns the favor by placing a kiss to your shoulder.

You go to him, standing in the kitchen, as he squints at the recipe book in front of him. He wears washed blue jeans, an old Foo Fighters tee shirt and a pair of blue fuzzy socks. A towel hangs over his shoulder as he mutters to himself, as he gets ready to put some garlic bread in the oven.

You’re still in your work clothes, though, it’s not as if you’re wearing anything fancy. Just a different pair of jeans, and a tee shirt with your shop’s logo on it. Your hair is messy, and you smell vaguely of dirt. The smell has become comforting to him in his time knowing you.

You step closer to him, a hand resting gently on his shoulder. He relaxes at your touch.

“Hey, Mike.” You say softly, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Hey, how was your day?”

“Not too bad. The food smells pretty good.”

“You think so?” His voice is hopeful, especially since he’s trying to live up to your memories of the dish as a kid. It’s his way of thanking you for being so good to him while he’s gotten his shit together.

“Mhm. I’m gonna go wash up and have Abby help me set the table.” You tell him. You kiss his jaw quickly before heading off to the bathroom to scrub the dirt from beneath your fingernails. You wash your face and arms too and begin to realize how domestic this all is.

You never saw yourself having kids, and never thought of yourself dating someone who did.

And you still never think about having kids, but you did find yourself treating Abby as if she is your own. This has nothing to do with how much you adore her brother. Abby is just easy to love. You wonder if anyone’s ever told her that.

When your work boots find themselves at the end of your bed, you change into a muscle tee. You’re awfully fond of them. You find a pair of Mike’s fuzzy socks and slip them on too. You take a moment to stare at your shoulder in the mirror, imagining how it’ll look when ink covers it. Most of your tattoos are on your legs, and for a long time, this arm has been bare of any ink. You’ve been saving it for this project for years.

You go to Abby’s room and knock gently before entering. You find her painting at this aisle you got for her birthday. She’s been working on this painting for a few days now, and it’s turning out quite nice.

“Hey, Abs.” You say softly, and she puts her paintbrush down to give you this big, toothy grin. “Go wash up and help me set the table?” You ask.

“Sure.” She hums and starts to skip along to the bathroom, but you stop her at the door.

“And remember, even if Mike’s food is bad, what do we say?”

“Mm, this food is so good and not horrible at all!”

“Abby.”

She sighs.

“This is unlike anything you’ve made before, and I appreciate the effort?”

“That’s it.” You let her go wash up, and then go to set the table.

When Mike eventually serves dinner, you’re starved. You don’t care if it’s bad, or if it’s burnt, you know you’ll like it because you weren’t able to take a lunch break that day. But it genuinely looks good.

He cuts up Abby’s food and puts the plate in front of her before sitting down and looking to you two for a reaction. You take a bite, and you have to pause.

Did Mike really cook something not just edible, but… good?

Not fine, not decent, really good.

“Mike, this is—”

“Amazing!” Abby gasps, going in for another bite. His cheeks flush.

“You guys don’t have to pretend, it’s alright—”

“No, Mike, we’re not pretending, it’s really good!” You defend, going in for a second bite yourself. “Try it!”

He does, and he even looks shocked at the quality of the food he’s produced. And it sets the mood for the whole dinner, until you eventually blurt out,

“I booked a tattoo appointment for next week.”

“What are you getting?” Mike can’t ever admit this to you, but he adores your tattoos. He thinks the placement of them are all wonderful, even if they’re smaller. He likes to kiss them, to trace his fingers over them, to just admire them in the summer.

“It’s a surprise.” You tell him. Owning your own shop and being your own boss has its perks. You have no worries about people judging you for your half sleeve, deciding that you can just ban them from your shop.

Your conversation drifts off and you focus on other things. When you’re done, you and Mike begin to clean up with him, letting some of the pan soak in the sink. You sit on the counter, drying some of the plates as Mike rinses.

“Thank you for dinner.” You tell him.

“I’m glad you liked it.” Comfortable silence fills the room. “You’re really not gonna tell me what you’re getting?”

“I told you, it’s a surprise.” You smile softly. He dries his hand and steps between your legs. His hands land on either side of you, caging you in.

“Tease.” He mumbled, leaning forward, and kissing your shoulder. A hand goes to his hair, your fingers tangling in his locks.

“I’m not teasing, I’m just being a little secretive.” You tell him, playing with his hair. You’re a fan of the scruff he’s been growing out lately.

“Isn’t it gonna hurt?”

“Yeah, but I’ll take breaks and remember to eat.” You tell him. “This isn’t my first tattoo, Mike.”

“I know, baby.” He says softly, “I just get worried—”

“You get worried about me? And yet, when I’m worried about you, you ignore me but—” He cuts you off with a kiss, and your hands land on his jaw, the scruff tickling your face.

• • •

The ink swirls around your shoulder, a moth wrapping around your shoulder and reaching to the top of your arm. Vines wrap around the moth, as flowers bloom in different places. Your birth flower is one of them, as well as your mother’s. You also place Abby and Mike’s around the moth, maybe protecting it. Thorns poke out of some of the vines, and the ink covers your shoulder, and down to just above your elbow.

You got it done on a Saturday afternoon, leaving late enough so Mike could sleep in without having to deal with Abby, but being able to give them some time to relax together.

It takes a few hours, and by the end of it, you’re exhausted. As with all your other tattoos, you’re sore, but this is a new type of sore. You ache for Mike’s hands on you, to hold you and kiss your shoulders, even though he can’t kiss your left shoulder for a few days.

The second skin will remain on your arm for a day or two, and then you’ll have to go through the process of moisturizing your tattoo.

You have Penny take lots of photos of it before you head home, Mike and Abby both waiting in anticipation for you to come home and show them your new ink. You’re excited to show them, since there’s a connection to them in the art. 

When you open the door, Abby runs to you and immediately starts to look for the ink in question. She gasps when she sees it, all wrapped up on your arm.

“It’s a moth,” You tell her, “With my favorite plants.” You crouch down to point out different plans in the works. “These are my mom’s birth flowers, they’re carnations.” You tell her, “Do you know what these are?” You point to another flower.

Abby shakes her head, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the fresh, raw flesh of the person she considers to be her caregiver.

“They’re lily of the valley flowers. They’re your birth flower.” You reach out and tuck hair behind her ear. Then, you point to the third flower. “And these? They’re honey suckles. They’re Mike’s birth flower.”

Mike watches your interaction, listening to your explanation of the tattoo. Suddenly, this anxiety pools in his chest. You’ve been living together for a few months, but somehow a symbol of him and Abby being engraved on your skin makes things all too real.

He could cry.

“Did you get the flowers because you’re a flower person?” You grin, knowing she doesn’t remember the title of your job.

“Botanist, you mean? Sort of, but you two mean a lot to me, and I wanted to tribute something to you guys.” You confess.

She grins and turns to look at Mike.

“I wanna be a tattoo artist when I’m older.” Mike is pale with anxiety.

He wants to tell you it looks good, that it’s brilliantly done, but he doesn’t find it in himself. He wants to run, to abandon this relationship at the door, to never speak to you again to avoid the fact that he wants you desperately and thinks he might marry you one day.

He walks off to the bathroom, and he’s unsure if it’s to throw up or to cry.

You’re disappointed, because you wanted him to like it desperately, since this tattoo is now on you forever, and you wanted it to be a tribute to him. It almost hurts you that he doesn’t love it. Or at least pretend to. Instead, his disdain is visible on his face, and you do your best to turn your attention back to Abby.

“Wanna help me make dinner?” You smile softly, and she nods.

“Did your tattoo hurt?” She acts gently.

“Yeah, but with a good artist it goes quickly, and they don’t aim to torture you.” You explain, as you begin to make mac and cheese.

As she sets the table, you turn back to her and ask, “Can you go get Mike for dinner?” She nods and skips along to your bedroom, where Mike sits on the bed, frustrated with himself.

“Mike?” She asks gently. “We’re making mac and cheese.”

“I’m not hungry.” He says softly, and Abby can just tell something isn’t right.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t feel well..”

“Oh…” she suspects this is a lie.

“I’m sorry. Tell them I said sorry.” Tears prick Mike’s eyes. He’s unsure why he’s like this, and why he can’t just admire your tattoo and love you and tell you how much you mean to him. But he can’t. He gets the words out. He wants to love you so badly but something in him demands to not let him be happy.

He lays on the bed and tries to stay quiet as he cries.

• • •

Hours later, you sit at the table anxiously, your hands tapping on the wood, a cold bowl of Mac and Cheese on the table. You decide to get up to clean up dinner, and just as you do, soft steps creep out of the bedroom and into the kitchen area.

Mike stands and stares at the cold dinner that he feels bad for rejecting. He should just tell you what’s bothering him. Instead, his gaze turns and looks at you, doing the dishes.

“You didn’t have to make dinner.”

“You didn’t seem well, and Abby needed to eat.”

This comment sparks a much larger fire in Mike, and he isn’t sure why he’s angered by how much you care about his sister, his world.

“You aren’t her mom, you don’t have any reason to make her dinner or put her to bed—”

“Yeah, Mike, well, You’re not really her dad.” You glare. “I’ve taken care of her for months, fed her, made sure she’s taken care of, I’ve picked her up from school, and now suddenly, you’ve decided I have no right to just care about her? Fuck you, if you don’t love me anymore, then don’t take it out on your sister, talk to me like a god damn grown up and stop acting like a child.” You spit, angrily turning back around to keep doing your dishes so that Mike doesn’t see your red face or your tears.

With your back turned, he can see the moth on your shoulder blade, and he aches to trace the lines of your tattoos, kissing the skin around it. But cotton fills his mouth every time he tries to sew the gap between you two.

And your words strike him. He knows why you might think he doesn’t love you anymore, but he does. He loves you deeply and finds himself enamored with you, and yet he can’t even compliment this tattoo that you have obviously put a ton of time, effort and money into.

“I’m sorry—” You start, but he cuts you off.

“I think we should give each other some space.” The words hit you like a ton of brick, and you’re ready to get on your hands and knees and beg him, beg him to not leave, beg him to forgive you (for what, you don’t know), beg him to touch you, beg him to want you.

“What..?”

“I just think I need some space.” He said softly, leaning against the kitchen doorway. You want to ask if he’s hungry, to kiss away all the sadness in the worry lines of his face.

You nod, bite your tongue. He wants to hold you and tell you he doesn’t mean it.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” You mumble, sighing softly. You also plan to leave early before Mike gets up.

Mike steps towards you, maybe to apologize. You step past him to go get pajamas from your dresser, not letting him grasp onto you. You don’t want him to apologize now. You want him to sit in his regret and you want to sit in your anger.

As you attempt to fall asleep that night, you pray Abby didn’t hear your conversation with him.

Both of you try to drift to sleep and salt streams from your eyes and into your ears.

• • •

A few days pass. Your tattoo starts to heal, and you take the second skin off your shoulder and arm and begin the process of aftercare.

You and Mike exchanged a total of about thirty words over the next few days. Abby noticed your angst towards each other and tried to get the two of you to make up. She figured that Mike was being an idiot, and just needed to apologize.

She was right, but he didn’t want to admit that to his kid sister.

It’s hell. You have to pretend that you don’t want to beg for his forgiveness, but you know that neither of you are blameless. Your pride tells you not to be the first one to cave. His anxiety tells him that you hate him.

When he gets home one afternoon from work, you’re napping in bed. He knows the couch isn’t that comfortable and he’s sure you’re home because you’d mentioned to Abby that you weren’t feeling well. You probably didn’t expect to still be asleep when he got home.

But you’re wearing one of his shirts. He kisses your head and leaves a glass of water and cold medicine on the nightstand, before going to make himself busy somewhere else, as if not to disrupt your rest.

He takes one last glance at you before he leaves.

One night, he comes home from work late. You take it as an opportunity to take a hot shower after putting Abby to bed and taking a few minutes to sit in the bedroom that you missed while sleeping on the couch.

Besides, your bones ached from that uncomfortable couch while you were spoiled, used to Mike’s warm bed.

You barely hear the front door open as you continue your nightly routine. You need to apply lotion to your tattoo, to keep it moisturized as it heals. But you find yourself struggling to reach your shoulder.

Mike watches you from the doorway of the bedroom, biting his lip. The bags around his eyes have grown darker since your fight.

He takes off his boots first, and then strips his top down to an undershirt, then takes off his jeans. If you weren’t so busy, you’d acknowledge how handsome he looked in just his boxers and a gray tee shirt.

The bed dips behind you, as he sits behind you. You stop what you’re doing.

“Give me the lotion.” He says softly, and with a sigh of defeat, maybe even a bit of relief, you hand him the lotion. He squirts some lotion on his hands, then begins to rub it into your skin. You shudder at the contact, and he feels tears in his eyes again. He missed you. “I’m sorry I didn’t say I liked your tattoo. I love it.”

“I’m sorry I said you didn’t love me, and I’m sorry I said you weren’t Abby’s dad.”

“But I’m not—”

“But you are her parent.”

“So are you.”

A silence fills the room.

“What happened on Saturday?”

“I got anxious when I saw Abby and I’s birth flowers on you. Like how much I loved you was just engraved in your skin, and I didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t mean to push you away, I was just terrified. Terrified that you’re going to leave. Terrified that I won’t be able to protect you.” His voice cracks at the end, and he leans his head against your shoulder that isn’t inked.

Your head turns to kiss his head.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know..” he says softly, but a part of him doesn’t believe it. You and Abby, you’re the only ones who have stayed, the only ones he’s been able to save. He doesn’t know who he is without the two of you. “I’m sorry, I was such a dick.”

“Yeah, but so was I.” You tell him.

“I love your tattoo. I love all of your tattoos. All of them. I love kissing them. I’m desperate for this one to heal so I can kiss this shoulder again.”

“Thank you for helping me with it. It itches like a son of a bitch.” You tell him, a weak smile on your face. Tears stain your shirt.

“Can we go back to normal now? I’ve missed you.”

“I miss you so much.” You turn and wrap your arms around him, the warmth radiating from his body as he holds you close. You wonder if either of you will ever be able to let yourselves be loved.

You hope to let each other try.

You kiss him, salty tears mixing, as you hold him close. He’s careful of your tattoo, not wanting to scratch or hurt you. He’s gentle in a way that betrays him. He desires you in this way that transcends want or need, something that is vital, as if it were breathing.

Yet his hands remain respectful. Gentle. You’re the one that adjusts your position to be over him, as you gently push him back against the bed, kissing him deeper.

He decides he will marry you someday. That maybe the idea of being with you for the rest of his life isn’t scary.

Not when you kiss him like that.

[writer-freak]

A piece of you between my teeth| Leona x Gn reader

Kinktober week 3 - Marking, cockwarming and lazy sex

Words: 2k

Warning: NSFW, gn reader, no genital description, one bed trope, lots of biting, english isn't my first language

A/n: I really struggled with writing lazy sex and I finished this fic early and started a little extra Kinktober fic for Leon Kennedy

Thank you for reading and Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated and really motivate me to write more <3

Savanaclaw had never been your first choice for accommodations, but somehow, here you were. Spending the night at Savanaclaw was supposed to be simple—a practical solution since you couldn’t return to Ramshackle. But, as expected, there was only one bed in Leona's room, and he was far too lazy to offer sleeping elsewhere.

“Guess you’ll have to share the bed with me,” Leona drawled, barely glancing up from where he was lounging, sprawled out with his arms behind his head.

“You can’t be serious,” you muttered, looking over at the massive bed. “What, too scared to sleep next to me?” His voice was a low purr, and there was an unmistakable gleam in his eyes as he smirked up at you. “Just lie down already. I don’t bite. Unless you ask.”

You sighed, knowing there wasn’t much of a choice. It wasn’t like Leona was going to let you take the floor, and you were too tired to argue further. So, reluctantly, you slipped into the bed beside him, making sure to keep some distance.

You felt the heat radiating from his body almost immediately. He was close—closer than you were comfortable with—and you could feel your pulse quicken. Still, you told yourself to focus on sleep, to ignore the lion’s presence beside you.

But Leona had other plans. “Relax,” he muttered, his voice a lazy rumble. “You’re all stiff. Makes it harder to sleep.”

“It’s hard to relax when you’re this close,” you shot back, trying to adjust your position without getting too close.

“Tch. You act like I’m gonna pounce on you.” He rolled onto his side, his face closer now, his breath brushing your skin. “Unless… you want me to.” His lips curved into a slow, deliberate grin that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You turned your head, but Leona’s presence, his scent, the heat coming off his body—all of it was making it impossible to ignore him.

Minutes passed in silence, the tension between you almost tangible. You could feel Leona’s gaze on you, his breathing steady and calm, while yours felt erratic. And then, without warning, his hand slid across your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Leona—what the hell are you doing?” you whispered, but you made no move to stop him.

“Getting comfortable,” he said smoothly, his lips grazing your ear. “And don’t act like you’re not enjoying this.” His voice was laced with amusement, but there was something darker in it, a knowing edge that made your skin tingle.

You turned to face him, your breath catching as your eyes locked. His gaze was intense, unwavering, and the closeness between you now felt almost suffocating. Without thinking, your lips met his in a heated, desperate kiss.

Leona responded immediately, his hand tightening on your waist as he pulled you flush against him. His tongue slipped past your lips, tasting and teasing as his fingers trailed down your back, sending sparks of electricity through you.

“You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and rough as his hands roamed your body. “I can feel it… the way your body’s reacting.”

You didn’t answer, not with words. Instead, you let your hands wander, exploring the hard lines of his chest, tracing the muscles that flexed under your touch. His skin was warm, almost hot to the touch, and the way he responded to your every movement only fueled the fire building inside you.

“Cocky bastard,” you whispered, biting down on his bottom lip, just hard enough to draw a low growl from him.

Leona grinned, his canines flashing. “You like that, don’t you?” His hands slid lower, slipping under your clothes to cup your ass, pulling you even closer as he ground lazily against you. “I knew you’d like this… you’re so easy to read.”

Before you could respond, he shifted, rolling you onto your back as he settled between your legs. His lips were everywhere your jaw, your neck, your collarbone leaving a trail of bites and bruises in his wake. Each nip of his teeth was deliberate, marking you as his, and every time you whimpered or gasped, he responded with a smug chuckle. “Such a perfect little prey,” he murmured, his voice deep and velvety as his teeth scraped along your skin. “I’m gonna mark every inch of you.”

And he did. His mouth was relentless, biting, sucking, leaving dark, purple bruises in his wake. Each bite was followed by a soothing lap of his tongue as if he was savoring the taste of your skin. It was overwhelming, the mixture of pleasure and pain sending shivers through your entire body.

“Leona… ah—” You arched your back, your hands tangling in his hair as his mouth found the sensitive spot on your neck, sucking hard enough to make your vision blur.

“You’re making the cutest sounds,” he muttered, his breath hot against your skin as his hands slid under your clothes, tugging them off slowly. “And I’ve barely even started.”

Once your clothes were discarded, Leona wasted no time. His hand slid between your legs, finding your arousal with ease. “So ready for me… I knew you’d be like this.” His tone was teasing, almost mocking, but the way he was touching you left no room for argument. You let out a soft whimper, your hips bucking against his hand, desperate for more. He smirked, clearly enjoying the sight of you squirming beneath him. “Patience,” he purred, his voice dripping with amusement.

Despite his teasing, Leona’s pace remained unhurried. His clothes joined yours on the floor, and he slid back between your thighs, his body warm and heavy. He didn’t rush, pressing the tip of his cock against you, teasingly slow. “Gonna take it nice and slow tonight.” With a long, deliberate thrust, Leona eased inside, stretching you with a lazy groan. He didn’t rush his movements were languid, almost unbothered as he bottomed out and stayed there, relishing the feeling of your body wrapped around him.

“Mmh… you’re so tight like this,” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Leona didn’t move at first, simply enjoying the feeling of being buried deep inside you.

When he started he moved slow, unrushed, as if he had all the time in the world. His hips rolled into yours at a languid pace, his breathing steady and relaxed, contrasting with the heat between you two. Each thrust was deep and deliberate, his eyes half-lidded as he gazed down at you.

His lips found your neck again, biting down as his hips began to move, slow and lazy, but with an intensity that left you breathless. “Just relax, herbivore,” he muttered, his lips brushing your ear. “Let me take care of you.”

You could barely form words, overwhelmed by the slow build of pleasure. His rhythm was steady, each thrust filling you completely before withdrawing just as slowly. The lazy pace was intoxicating, drawing out every sensation until you were trembling beneath him. Leona’s hands roamed over your body, his touch firm yet gentle, as though savoring every inch of you.

His lips never stopped moving against your skin, planting soft kisses between lazy bites that continuously sent sparks through your body.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered against your skin, his teeth sinking in just enough to make you shiver. His voice was rough as his hips ground into you, his thrusts slow but deep. “I’m going to make sure everyone knows it… no one else gets to touch you like this.”

The intimacy of the moment, the steady, possessive weight of his body, the languid way he moved inside you, it all felt overwhelming in the best way. His pace never quickened, just kept that lazy, deep rhythm, his cock buried inside you as his teeth left marks across your skin.

By now his pace was almost torturous, each thrust deliberate as he continued marking your body with his teeth and tongue. You could feel the bruises forming, each bite sending you closer to that sweet release, making you arch into him, desperate for more.

“You like that, don’t you?” Leona’s voice was low and thick with desire as he bit down on your shoulder, hard enough to make you gasp. “I can feel how tight you’re getting… you love being marked by me.”

You could barely form a coherent response, your mind clouded with pleasure as his cock filled you over and over, each thrust hitting deeper than the last. All you could do was cling to him, your body trembling as you gave yourself over to the sensation.

“Come for me,” he growled, his voice rougher as his hips snapped against yours, harder and faster now. “Let me hear you scream my name.”

And you did. Finally, after what felt like hours of that slow, torturous pleasure, you felt the tension building inside you snap. Leona groaned low in his throat, his grip tightening on you as your body clenched around him.

Your body tensed, your vision going white as pleasure washed over you in waves, and Leona followed soon after, his thrusts growing heavier as he stopped with a deep, satisfied growl.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both of you catching your breath as the aftershocks of your orgasms faded. Leona stayed inside you, his body heavy on top of yours as he nuzzled into your neck, his breath warm and steady against your skin.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he muttered, his voice thick with satisfaction as he settled against you, his cock still buried deep inside. “You’re going to stay right here, with me.”

And that’s exactly what you did. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your chest, the heat of his body enveloping you as you lay tangled together.

Leona shifted slightly, his cock still semi-hard and warm inside you, twitching with every small movement. You tried to adjust, but he let out a low growl, his arms tightening around you. “Don’t move,” he warned, his voice heavy with the lingering threat of more. “Just keep me warm, herbivore.”

You let out a soft sigh, your body sinking into the mattress, still trembling from the aftermath. The sensation of him still inside you, even after both of you had reached your limits, was overwhelming. It was a slow burn a intimate kind of torment, his cock nestled deep within you, pulsing every so often barely reminding you of its presence.

You squirmed just a little, testing him, and his grip on you tightened, pulling you even closer. “I said don’t move,” he repeated, his lips brushing against your ear nibbling slightly on it, his tone making it clear that he wouldn’t hesitate to retake control if you didn’t listen. You huffed softly, but there was no real fight left in you.

You could feel the exhaustion creeping in, the weight of his body keeping you grounded as sleep tugged at the edges of your mind. Leona’s breathing had already slowed, his body warm and relaxed against yours as he drifted off.

Just as your eyes fluttered closed, you heard him murmur one last thing against your skin, his voice soft and low, almost tender. “You’re mine now… no one else. Remember that.”

With a soft hum of acknowledgment, you let yourself relax completely.

Divider by: @cafekitsune