#I don’t think I’ll ever finish it but I might as well share

[shibaraki]

OUT OF MY HEAD, HALF BURSTING ┊ MIDORIYA IZUKU

synopsis: japan’s sweetheart and saviour is in a quirk induced coma. you’re the only one that can bring him back.

tags: GN reader, post canon au, pro hero deku, quirk accidents, fluff + angst, hospitalisation, mutual pining, intimacy, technically doctor/patient but they know each other, friends to lovers, reader has quirk (‘dream walker’), memory/dream sharing, referenced depression, getting together, kissing, cheesy idc idc

wc: 5.2K

In your years wading through patients' memories, you’ve found that people have the most uncanny ability to resign themselves to their fate. You’ve wondered time and time again whether it’s instinctive to ruin things—if humans couldn’t help but stumble and make a mess of the things around them.

You recall that thought process now with a weary sigh, as your eyes skim over the patient's name for the tenth time in as many seconds. Midoriya Izuku.

“Well? Are you gonna do it or not?”

You’ve been staring at the medical file for long enough that an uncomfortable silence has dawned upon your office. Two weeks prior, a villain named Catatonic used her quirk to force Deku into a comatose state, that which he has yet to wake from. Even after the liberal use of quirk inhibitors, countless visits from Eraserhead and the administration of various stimulants, Deku would not stir. Realistically he should’ve roused from the coma naturally as soon as the quirk was cancelled. But he hadn’t, and his doctors can only assume it’s because he can’t, or refuses to.

Thus the case in your lap. A last resort.

“I’ll do it,” you intoned, thumb flicking at the corner of the manila folder. There’s already a deep crease there. The file itself is the heaviest you’ve ever had in your hands. Dense in a way that makes you ache. You and Deku are good friends—the kind of friendship that forms mainly because you frequent the same places. That place in particular being the hospital, except you were there to work, and he was often wandering the hallways listlessly to burn off the dregs of whatever sedatives he’d taken or visiting with patients.

Awkward small talk eventually blossomed into real, fulfilling conversations, and you started to like him, a lot more than you should. You kept the memory of his small, sincere smile close to your chest; nothing like that dazzling grin he wore on duty, it was softer, something private, and you relished being on the receiving end of it.

He was skilled at talking around his injuries. Sometimes if you felt especially bone-weary after a shift you’d be so relieved to see him that you forgot to ask. That sits with you. Deku is a hero. A good one, the best one. He’s brilliant at what he does—keeping people safe, protecting them from harm. In the entirety of his career, it appears he rarely, if ever, turned that care and consideration onto himself. You’re not a licensed therapist, and barely a doctor. Still you contemplate his medical history with a cold sense of regret.

“You realise there’s a large possibility I’ll end up seeing a lot of confidential stuff while I’m in there”.

“Don’t care. S’not like you can tell anyone”.

“I don’t think you understand how invasive this will be. I’ll see personal things. Private things, Bakugo. He won’t be happy”.

“Don’t care. If he doesn’t like it then maybe he should fuckin’ wake up”.

“This might not work, you know,” you finish tiredly.

Bakugo arches his brow at that. Despite the shadows under his eyes there’s no defeated slope to his shoulders, only a fierce scowl. “Either you can do it or you can’t,” he says, voice unsteady as if reeling between rationality and outright aggression. “You’re supposed to be the best at what you do”.

“I am the best at what I do, Bakugo. I can promise you I’ll find him”.

“Then what’s the damn problem?”

The file feels heavier. It feels like a foregone conclusion. You swallow, your throat dry. You don’t bother attempting a smile. You’ve lost the will to maintain your professional veneer.

“I can’t promise he’ll want to come back”.

Dream walker.

At twelve years old you thought it made your quirk sound whimsical, and gentle, and not at all the invasive thing that it actually is. After all, your reach didn’t end only at dreams. You were able to project your consciousness into another’s mind if it pleased you, parse through every memory, ambition, fantasy, trauma and fear, and manipulate them however you liked. Back when your control was non-existent you would drift into people’s heads whenever you slept like some wayward soul and saw far too much far too young.

The need to understand yourself and your quirk is what drove you to studying medicine. Neuropsychology, mainly. You carved meditative techniques into the very recesses of your own brain and learned to keep your consciousness tightly moored but had no real ambition beyond that. After the war and the complete upheaval and reform of hero society, it was difficult to find your place.

Until Okumura Yukiko.

At the small age of eight, Yukiko fell under the effects of a severe nightmare quirk, and despite the quirk being canceled she couldn’t wake up naturally. You had carefully walked through the delicate threads that made up her young mindscape—quirk-infested by formless shadows with knife-sharp teeth and worse, eerie figures that wore the appearance of her father��you found her trembling inside her mothers figmental wardrobe, took her hand, and guided her out.

When you came to she was curled up in the swaddle of your arms, trembling still, but awake. Her timid incantations ring true in your ears even now. Those tiny little thank you, thank you, thank you’s inspired the person you are today. Not quite a doctor, or a therapist. A specialist for special cases.

Something in your gut told you that traipsing into Midoriya Izuku’s mind wouldn’t be simple. That it would permanently change things. This isn’t some stranger, or a patient you’d never cross paths with again. He’s important to you in a way others aren’t.

Your hand hovers over his face, fingertips brushing his temple. You push your fingers into his thick green hair, rich in colour and soft, no knots to catch on your knuckles. His friends have been visiting in shifts, keeping him comfortable and presentable.

Bakugo had managed to keep the Hero Commission at bay for the time being, but if you came back without Midoriya tomorrow there would be far more than one scowling man looming in your office. Though the possibility left a bad taste in your mouth you can admit, in the privacy of your thoughts, that you’ve contemplated prolonging his recovery for the sake of allowing Midoriya rest. There must be something keeping him under, his genuine reluctance or worse; you’ve been reassured repeatedly of All for One’s death and the absence of the previous quirk holders but it’s best to exercise vigilance.

Midoriya does not react, not even a twitch of his nose, but there’s a flutter beneath his eyelids and a sleepy-sweet warmth to him that has you smiling, fond. Tucking your feet around the legs of your chair, you scoot it forward and bend closer, elbows resting on the edge of the hospital bed. “I’m not sure you can hear me in there. Maybe not. But I hope you won’t hate me for this,” you tell him.

Midoriya’s face remains serene as ever—more so than you can remember. It makes you wonder how much pain and discomfort he’s been hiding throughout your interactions. The tension has been sapped from his expression, lashes fanning over his cheeks. You’re close enough to count each individual freckle. Lightly, your thumb taps the space between his brows. “There are a lot of people out here that love you. They’re waiting for you to wake up, so I’ll have to have a look around your head a bit. Okay?”

Nothing. Heartbeat monitor pulsing a healthy rhythm, broad chest rising and falling, Midoriya continues to sleep. You sigh and cast a final glance around the private hospital room. The clock reads 18:22. Outside the window you see a single cloud, wispy as a dandelion, slowly disintegrate across the dusky sky. You make a cradle with your arm, head resting in the crook while you take Midoriya’s hand and try to relax. Anticipation turns in your gut. Years of experience aside, you’ve never really acclimated to the feeling of that first step into another’s subconscious.

Pressure gathers inside your skull as your quirk activates. You inhale a quick, wounded breath at the sensation. Your eyes roll back, vision swallowed by abrupt darkness, and you jerk against the distinct sensation of falling as your stomach roils. You’re overwhelmed by a cacophony of images and sounds—a determination that happiness would come, then moored to the burden of expectation, any optimism muffled under exhaustion and pain, replaced swiftly by a sense of discontent, grief and regret that swelled over time.

And then everything stops.

Your arms feel empty. Your chest feels hungry. You ache with it, the disquieting loneliness. Fog leaks into the memory, surroundings concealed beneath a thick mist. Behind you is a small pond. There’s a notebook soaking in the water. The koi are mouthing curiously at the weathered corners, faint black tendrils of ink curling off the charred pages. Scrawled boldly across the top is ‘Hero Analysis for The Future: No. 13’. Your strikingly young reflection ripples as you plunge your hand in and fish it out, holding it at arm's length as you shake the excess away.

Sufficiently less soaked, you draw the notebook to your front and carefully turn the cover to read the first page. You can feel the slight indentations on the back where a pen has been pressed hard enough to score the words through the page. Written inside, smudged but undeniable, is Midoriya Izuku’s name.

“Uh—excuse me…” a shaky, pitched voice comes from behind you, belonging to a very familiar pair of teary eyes. Midoriya is not just small, he’s scrawny. His hair is longer, unable to decide on which direction it wants to grow, and his middle school uniform is slightly ill-fitting, as though his mother bought it a size bigger for longevity. He ducks into the higher collar to hide his reddened face when you look at him.

The urge to bundle him up and hide him from the world is fierce. The situation is odd, but you offer a smile and his blush worsens. “Is this yours?” you ask, holding up the notebook. You try not to grimace at your own childlike voice. Midoriya nods frantically. His hands flex around the straps of his backpack. Smaller than the broad palms you’re familiar with, neither scarred nor crooked, trembling where they motion to clasp around the notebook. Your fingers brush and he attempts to swallow the yelp that bubbles in his throat.

“Thank you,” he stammers, pressing the notebook flat to his own chest. Midoriya swallows. His gaze never strays from you, growing brighter with each passing second as the idea in his head takes shape.

“Do you go to school here?”

“Oh,” you blink and the shadows have elongated. The pond is now hugging a school building. You recognise it despite never having seen it before. Aldera Junior High. “I don't,” you answer, sounding sorry. He predictably deflates. “I live close by, though!”

Midoriya perks up again. He shifts his weight between each foot. Red faced and unsteady, he quietly asks, “Do you think we could be friends?”

Your mouth slacks a bit, answers dying in your throat. You look down at your hands, palms upturned and unblemished. The dappled sunlight passes through your incorporeal form. Interaction with anything aside from the true patient during your work is incredibly rare though not entirely unfounded; people who daydream in vivid detail or ruminate chronically on old regrets usually had false memories in excess. Their minds seem to naturally meld around your intrusion, but they never went so far as to seamlessly incorporate you. Which can only mean one thing.

You fit because Midoriya has imagined this numerous times before—befriending you as a child.

Before you can respond you’re being dragged abruptly into a memory, the echo of a blinding flash of pain rippling through you. A reflexive gasp has your chest heaving and you curse at your lack of control. There’s barely a shard of light. Behind you is a hard, jagged surface but below is loose, uprooted. Attempts to move are futile, and agonising. You slump into the displaced rubble, silt and icy embrace, and listen. From above there is only a haunting silence but only a few feet ahead you hear muffled crying and Bakugo’s strangely tinny voice.

Your vision adjusts in increments, from pure darkness to a soft outlined blob to a comfortingly familiar silhouette. Midoriya is poised like an Atlantean statue, holding up the creaking structure and keeping it from crushing the young girl cowered in front of him.

Another wave of pain washes over you as the rubble groans. Midoriya bites back a whimper. His body is sinew and bone pulled taut, skin stretched over a drum. Everything seemed to swell dramatically around him.

“We’re almost there, kid. Two minutes,” Bakugo’s voice spills jarringly from the bulky earpiece hugging Midoriya’s ear. “Now look at Deku for me. You lookin’?” the young girl does as he commands. You see her trepidation falter at the easy smile Deku is wearing. “Bet he’s got a big dumb grin on his face right now, yeah?”

“Y—yeah,” she echoes, clutching the dirtied hem of her dress.

“You think he’d be smiling if there was anythin’ to be scared of?”

Her shoulders slant, the tension released, and she offers a tremulous smile of her own, “No”.

But you can feel, quite viscerally, how scared Deku was in that moment. The nauseating pain in his arms has dwindled into numbness and he daren’t spare himself more than the occasional shallow breath, as if the bloating of his lungs alone might disrupt his balance. Not once does his smile falter.

The surroundings warp again. You struggle against the whiplash, flung unwillingly into another memory. Breath forced from your lungs, the echo of Izuku’s pain dissipates in a blink and you land on unsteady feet, coughing and spluttering in the middle of an eclectic café covered in tinsel.

A sign written in cursive above the chalkboard menu reads ‘Mean Mug’. Melodious Christmas music plays quietly overhead, and the bell above the door is soft enough to get lost in the smooth notes. You’re cocooned by heat and met with bold patterned wallpaper. The unifying palette seems to be warm-toned colours; red, orange and brown come together amidst the mismatched decor to create a cosy atmosphere.

A half heartedly disguised Midoriya shuffles awkwardly by the counter, looking up at the door with trepidation every time the bell chimes to signal another customer. He grins once Uravity arrives in a casual disguise of her own, eyes still bright beneath the shadow of his cap.

They order and settle in a quaint alcove away from the windows and any prying eyes. Neither hero notices your presence as you seat yourself at their table and listen to their conversation. There are things you don’t understand. Code words to be used when discussing sensitive matters outside of their agencies. Inside jokes that you weren’t there for. But most curious of all is the knowing look on Uraraka’s face when Midoriya mentions that he saw you at the hospital that day.

“You’re hopeless, Deku-kun,” she says, as fond as she is amused. “What was your excuse this time?”

Midoriya clears his throat. He grips his cup, pressing until his knuckles turn white. It draws your attention to the thin cast splinting his ring and middle fingers together. “I broke my fingers sparring with Kirishima”.

You remember that, though too entrenched in his memory to attempt receding into yours for details.

“So you leapt halfway across the city to have them stuck together despite the fact that your agency has an on-site infirmary,” Uraraka’s hair falls in a gentle swoop beneath her jaw as she laughs. Midoriya shrinks into himself ever so slightly and her eyes soften. She pokes at his forearm. “C’mon Deku—why haven’t you asked yet? Do you really think you’ll get rejected?”

Glancing back and forth between them, your heart beats a tattoo across the inside of your ribs. You feel as if you’ve both missed something quite important and heard too much. You push your chair backwards and fall away from the table, and the memory, before Midoriya can respond.

With renewed determination—and heat rising to your cheeks—you reign in your quirk, steering cautiously through Midoriya’s subconscious mind as you should’ve in the first place. Images flicker in and around your periphery, each as desperate to draw you in as the last.

You see Midoriya crying, bleeding, lashing out in anger. You see him in a sterilised room, lulled by monotonous beeps, flesh stitched back together. You hear the doctor's voices coalesce into white noise. You watch as he’s handed crudely drawn thank you cards, coffee-stained police reports and thick manila envelopes marked as confidential in large red letters.

You turn away as Eraserhead approaches, a solemn expression, a quiet clink accompanying his footsteps, unnaturally heavy to one side, a young girl with silver hair following right behind him.

Your heart leaps to your throat when he screams in agony. You look down. There’s blood running down the street in rivulets, skin coming apart like wet paper.

You close your eyes. Next you risk a glance All Might is there, thinner than ever. He’s sitting in a wheelchair by a large window swaddled in a thick knitted blanket, watching over the city, smiling.

You turn away, feeling a pang of grief. Midoriya is expressionless, examining his battered body in the mirror, condensation still lingering on the glass, tendrils of heat curling upward as the shower drain gurgles.

Then he’s in a dark room bringing a stranger's hand to his mouth, kissing the centre of their palm, drawing the finger into his kiss-bitten mouth and sucking with a hazy gleam in his eyes.

It’s overwhelming. You stumble and suddenly Shouto is eating across from Izuku. He brings his chopsticks to his lips, noodles hung limp between them. “It’s obvious you like each other. You should just confess,” he says before shovelling his food.

Too private. You turn on your heel and find a patient of yours on the bed, unresponsive. Izuku is beside you, muttering under his breath, thumb pressed to the shadow beneath his lip. He reaches back to brush your wrist and offers a tentative touch of reassurance. You watch yourself lean against him for a moment and then retreat, grateful for his consideration, unneeding of it, and desperately wanting it, all at once.

The scene ripples violently. A reporter is staring up at Izuku with sparkling eyes. Her hair cycles through an array of colours as she shakes with excitement. “It’s amazing, Deku-san,” she insists. “For your spirit to be so heroic that it physically steers your body… that’s special!”

Izuku conceded with a strained laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. You feel how his stomach knots. “I used to think so too,” he says, sounding far away.

It’s the middle of the night somewhere when your search finally comes to a halt. You find you’ve landed on an empty street, in that dense, heavy darkness that makes you feel like the only person in the world who’s awake. There’s a tall residential building hugging the pavement. Intuitively, you know this is where Izuku lives.

Your footsteps are made heavy by Izuku’s lingering hurt and exhaustion. It’s disconcerting, the way he feels about his apartment. Coming home should be effortless. People come home in the same way they draw breath. But to Izuku, it's a weary, miserable journey that he must consciously think about and do. His perennial loneliness is overwhelming, a near physical force repelling you from opening the large glass door.

One foot in the lobby and the surroundings undulate. You’re dropped in the middle of his living room. It’s vacant. There’s a large box of case files tucked under the coffee table, an old takeout box left out on the counter, a blanket strewn haphazardly over the couch cushions. You pinch the soft fabric and rub it between your fingers, bringing it to your nose as you’re overcome by the urge to smell it. Izuku’s warm scent floods your senses.

Something thuds outside, followed by a tinkling of keys on a chain. Your blood runs quicker as the front door abruptly opens. Izuku looks harried as he ducks into the genkan, quite visibly frayed. The upper half of his hero suit is unzipped, pushed down to hang over his hips, littered with debris and dry mud. You hold your breath as he kicks off his shoes and lifts his head, meeting your wide-eyed gaze. The air around you is charged. Trepidation prickles at your nape.

Then the shadows over his stormy face recede. Izuku gentles, light returning to his previously empty eyes. “I’m home,” he breathes. “I missed you”. His voice shivers down your spine—you know in your gut that this is him, the real Izuku, but that fact is hard to believe while he’s looking at you like he wants you.

“Welcome home,” you smile back, slipping the blanket around your shoulders as you move toward him. “Hard day at—?”

Your intentions are to sit him down, keep him calm so as not to be ejected, and explain what’s happening, but before you have the chance his larger body crowds you against the wall—the dull impact reverberates through your ribs, knocking the breath from your lungs and he’s kissing you as if it’s something he always does.

Though it’s more of a collision than a kiss. The sensation is indescribable. Information spills into your mouth, your quirk reflexively absorbing his every fantasy, ache and want. Your knees almost buckle. The blanket puddles at your feet. Fingers snake into his thick hair, nails dig into his roots where skin becomes earth as you try to reciprocate his fervour.

Under your tongue you feel the cut on his lip, under your palms the dark swell across his cheek. You shake off the cloud of desire. Too many lines have already been crossed. “Izuku,” you whine. His name comes naturally now; you know him deeply enough. Blunt teeth graze at your jaw, your throat. You lean away for air only to catch a glimpse of another angry ivory-red bruise peeking from beneath his loose collar. “Izuku,” you tried again. Then louder. “Izuku, that’s enough”.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Izuku rasps as he rears up from the crook of your neck with wide, glassy eyes.

“No—I’m,” your heart beats hard in your ears. Dread sinks low in your belly. “It’s me. I’m really here, Izuku. You’ve been away for too long. I had to use my quirk. We need to wake up”.

“Wake up? You’re… oh,” his eyes grow wider, then shutter closed on a shaky exhale. The cut on his bottom lip has started bleeding again. Rivulets seeped into the cracks between his teeth and stained his gums red. You yearn for the searing heat of his hands as he releases you and staggers backwards to scrub at his face. “Oh my god”.

“Wait. Please don’t throw me out,” you say quickly, reaching to clutch at his wrist in case he panicked. Izuku tenses at the contact only to relax a beat later, his fingers spreading over his eyes so he can get a peek at you. “It took me forever to find you here. There’s a lot of stuff in your head”.

“I won’t. I wouldn’t,” he mumbles. You could collapse in relief. He’s not angry, he’s embarrassed.

“Thank you. I promise I tried not to look at anything too private”. Your mind didn’t make it easy, you think. It was almost like he wanted me to see everything.

Izuku groans and lets his hands drop to his sides in defeat, revealing an entirely pink face. You keep your fingers curled around his wrist, his pulse light and fast. “Okay. I’m okay. We should probably sit down for this,” he eventually croaks, a tremulous smile working its way across his lips. “Drink?”

You pick up the blanket and make your way to the couch while he briefly disappears into the kitchen. Around you the apartment takes on a rosy sheen. A dull clink shudders through the silence as Izuku sets a cup on the coffee table in front of you. It’s your favourite work mug down to the smallest details.

“You remembered this old thing?”

Shaped like a cat, the handle curved in and away like a feline’s tail. It’s piping hot, steam already curling up from it like a crooked finger, like the invitation he meant it to be.

Izuku nodded awkwardly, perched so far forward that it stretched credulity to say he was on the couch at all. He tracks your movements with intensity when you lean to pick up the hot drink. The initial sting to your palms quickly dwindles into numbness as you bring it closer and realise what’s inside. Hot chocolate. The surface sprinkled with those small, cube shaped marshmallows that he likes.

You swallow and feel the warmth spread through your body. A smile pulls at the corner of your mouth as the thick, saccharine flavour floods your senses, washing back the bitterness and thawing your anxiety. You can hear the tension in Izuku’s shoulders snap as he slumps forward, arms hung over his knees and head low in relief. His reaction is oddly vindicating, if not contagious.

“How long have I been asleep?” he asks. “Time is weird here”.

“You’ve been comatose for over two weeks,” you reply. “They tried everything they could before Bakugo insisted on bringing me in. You have a lot of people waiting for you”.

Izuku inhales sharply. He makes an aborted motion to scoot closer before thinking better of it. Your attention strays to the nervous wringing of his battle worn hands. Endeared, you put your mug down and close the distance yourself. Pressed thigh to thigh, you envelop his tightly curled fists, bringing them into your lap. The shaky breath he takes is loud in the otherwise quiet room.

“Honestly I’m surprised you’re still working”.

He looks at you with an unsure, watery smile, sunlight caught in glassy eyes. His voice is thick as he asks, “What do you mean?”

You smile sadly and run your thumb over his knuckles. “You’ve been on patrol. I thought you might’ve locked yourself in your head because you needed a proper break—and who could blame you, really. But you’re working yourself thin even in your dreams”.

Izuku huffed a laugh, more breath than humour. “I love being a hero. It’s what I’ve always wanted,” he says, his voice tight. You sink into his side and feel his diaphragm stutter. “But it isn’t everything. It felt like I was suffocating and I needed something more. Something to come home to for a little while…”

His red-rimmed eyes quickly return to his lap when you meet them. “I still can’t believe you’re here. Your quirk really is incredible”.

You can feel the shame swatting at you like a summer-born heatwave, reminded of just how deeply you’ve invaded his privacy, and how easily you overstepped your bounds.

“I’m so sorry,” he continues, at the same time that you tell him, “I’m sorry, Izuku”.

“Please. Let me go first,” he murmurs like a question. You nod your assent. “I’m sorry I forced myself on you. I thought you were a part of my imagination, like the rest of this place. I should have realised you weren’t. I’m sorry,” he rambles on. “I wanted to be closer to you but I got carried away and I’m sorry”.

“You couldn’t have known. I should have told you it was me as soon as you walked in,” you firmly interject. Izuku doesn’t look any less stricken in your periphery, cheek sunken where he’s gnawing at the flesh. “And you didn’t force anything. I hardly pushed you away,” your brow wrinkles and you smile despite yourself. “I got a little lost in your head, too. Not my most professional moment I admit. But I wouldn’t want to leave either, if we were cuddled up in here all day”.

“Really?” Izuku blinks. Hope colours his cheeks. He clears his throat and shifts in place as he tries very hard to appear unaffected. “You don’t think it’s creepy—me picturing all this with you?”

You think of that young boy yoked with the burden of expectation and feel your heart crack. You can still taste his desires. They’re insipid, belying their age, as though they’d lingered long enough to stale. Izuku treasured his friends and fans', their love and loyalty; yet he felt guilty for allowing them to foster such a blind faith in his goodness. He was a man with faults like any other, capable of making mistakes, of inflicting harm. More than anything Izuku longed for someone to see the darker, uglier corners of his life, and make room for all of him. And you wanted to be the one to do it.

“I’ve imagined this with you. This and more,” bolstered by everything you’ve seen, the confession spills out with startling ease. Your eyes squint above the curve of your grin. “I like you too,” you coaxed his fist open as you spoke, mapping out the carved furrows, shallows and depths on his palm. “A lot”.

“Oh,” he exhales, slowly entangling your fingers.

You give an emphatic nod.

“How mad is Kacchan?”

“Pretty mad. But when is he not?” you laugh at his grimace. “I’ll be there as a buffer when you wake up. It’s my professional opinion that you need a few more days to recuperate and take me out for crêpes. So will you come home with me?”

There’s a gleam in his eyes—a combination of warmth and weight that tugs at your chest. His gaze flickers across your face, from your lips to your eyes in askance. You lean in and he kisses you again, sipping gently at your mouth, firm and slightly sticky with congealed blood. Strange. It feels so real. You suppose it is, in all the ways that matter.

“Okay,” he whispers after one last peck to your lips. You get to your feet as he stands and gestures nervously toward the genkan. “I, uh. I don’t really know how to get out of here so… lead the way?”

You laugh and take him by the hand. “Don’t worry. The way home is always a lot faster. It’s a little disorienting—watch your step,” you warn as he follows you through the front door. Rather than the lobby, or a stairwell, both bodies are swallowed up by darkness.

Spat out just as abruptly, your senses return to you piece by piece. Breathing through the vertigo you peel your eyes open to the rapid rise and fall of Izuku’s chest as he reorients himself. A crick in your neck, a knot in your spine. The clock reads 07:12. There are already nurses bustling around the hospital bed, likely alerted by the frantic heart monitor; that which does little to hide the way Izuku’s pulse stutters when you lift your head to get a look at him.

“I’m up,” he says, throat rough from disuse. There’s a shaky smile on his face. “I’m home”.

Your hands are still entwined, albeit a little sweaty. You smile, “Welcome home”.

[dontexpectmuch]

i know how much you guys love this series, so i give you a new part. this one how ever will be;

comments/feedback is highly appreciated! please, im getting desperate :d

Habits Jude Bellingham might develop before you guys get into a relationship!

(a Lost in Madrid drabble!)

it is no secret that jude just loves to talk. he genuinely enjoys it so much to share any and every thought that goes through his mind, no matter how small it might be. he couldn’t tell when it started exactly, but suddenly he found himself on his way to you, a tired student that just wants to finish their work. as soon as he lifts his hand, knocks on your door and enters the room his lips start moving, talking so lively and fast that you need some time to register what is even happening.

“what do you mean ‘m talkin’ your ear off? you literally study literature and shit!” - “it’s more about reading, jude.” you sigh, wishing for any kind of help at this moment.

it is also nothing new for you to receive messages from jude during your quiet evenings when you decide to stay home. jude recently got into sending audio messages, you being his number one victim [forced] friend, whom he shared this new passion with. and most of the times he won’t even say anything important. he’ll just sing a new spanish song he has learned that past week. and he will sing. no matter how terrible it sounds and how much it makes your ears bleed. though, you also always listen to those audios, even though you know what the content will be.

“jude?” opening your door after hearing a desperate knock, you did not think that you would see your [not] friend standing there. he looks tiredly at you, clothes wrinkled and sandals on, “mum wanted me to bring you some cake she baked.” he gives you the tupperware filled with slices of cake, energy low. you feel your shoulders relax as you look up at him, “tell her i love her, please.” he just nods. and even though he always complains to you about how he is not some delivery boy, he can’t help but get excited at the thought of seeing your soft eyes when you receive food his mum made. it makes him feel giddy inside.

he makes you trip purposely whenever you walk in front of him, and then giggles and jogs away to join the others on the field when you send daggers his way with your glare.

he forces you to play two-touch, even though you have told him multiple times already that you cannot play really well. he quite literally forces you to become better, giving you tips while making you pass the ball against the wall back and forth. “i don’t want to do this anymore, jude.” - “well, that’s too damn bad.” his gaze serious as he corrects your form once more. “bitch.” you murmur under your breath, praying for him to just disappear somewhere and leave you alone.

“what?” you ask as you look up from your notes, eyes wide as you watch jude place a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll onto your desk. “i heard that you like sweets, or whatever.” he says, [desperately] wanting to look cool. your heart starts to pick up in speed when you look back and forth between jude and the things he just gave you, warmth spreading through your body. “thanks.”

“watch me.” he smirks at you, who looks quite annoyed tired at him. “i’ll hit this first time.” - “like you did to me on my first day here?” - “dude! i told you not to talk about it anymore, ‘t’s a sensitive topic for me, ‘kay?”

heartfelt conversations between you are not as rare as one might think. whenever jude comes to you to talk your ear off while toi work on your research, you sometimes tell him about your own stuff. that leads to various topics you two discuss, which also results in sharing some intimate thoughts. it makes jude, who usually looks so confident and well put together, look more human, like a 20 year old guy who also learns something new every day.

—————————————

surpriseee! hope you like it!! :)

[nanawritesit]

Jungkook Imagine: Taking Care of Him When He Gets Sick From Playing with Bam in the Rain

a/n: i think i might have accidentally deleted the actual request for this when i was cleaning out my ask box, but i know for a FACT it was requested 😤 it’s been on on my to do list for a while now, and i miss him sm rn, so here it is :)

TW: sick!jungkook, it’s just a cold but he’s kinda whiny, living together, mentions of food

—————

“Jeon Jungkook, you get back here right now!” you screeched from the back porch steps. It was pouring down rain and chilly, but you were safely tucked under an awning with one of your boyfriend’s sweatshirts on.

“Don’t worry, honey!” he yelled back, chasing his pet doberman all around the backyard. “Bam loves the rain!”

“It’s not Bam I’m worried about!” you retorted. “You’re not wearing a coat or hat, and you’re gonna get sick!”

“I’m not going to get sick!” he argued, putting his hands on his hips sassily. “Don’t worry about me! Just go back inside, I’ll be there in a bit. I just want to make sure Bam gets some exercise in.”

You rolled your eyes and turned back around to walk into your shared apartment. Songie and Paengie, your other two greyhounds, cocked their heads at you as you entered the living room.

“Kids, your daddy is an idiot.” you sighed, petting their heads.

—————

“Ugghhhh….” you heard your boyfriend moan from his bedroom.

You laughed to yourself as you finished preparing his soup. Oh how you loved being right.

Picking up the bowl and a big glass of water, you made your way down the hall to where he laid in his bed, bundled up in a million blankets.

“There’s my beautiful nurse…” he beamed with a crooked smile when he looked up and saw you. All three dogs perked up from their places on the bed, looking at you with wide eyes.

You gave him a warm smile and sat down on the bed next to him. “I made you some chicken noodle soup. And here’s some water, you’ll need to stay hydrated.”

“You’re the best, baby.” he pouted affectionately, sitting up to take the bowl from you. He winced as he did so. “Ah, it hurts to move…”

“Your muscles are just weaker because your body’s trying to fight off the infection.” you explained with a small smile.

“Is that why I’ve been so tired?” he asked, eyes sparkling innocently. You would think he’d never been sick before.

You nodded in confirmation. “You’ll need to get lots of rest to get better.”

He blew on a spoonful of the soup, then ate it slowly. His eyes squinted shut at the warmth and comfort of the meal. “This is so good. Literally the best thing you’ve ever cooked for me.”

You scoffed dramatically. “Ouch, thanks darling.” you grumbled sarcastically.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that!” he pleaded, reaching for your hand. “I just meant that it’s really touching that you’d take the time to make me soup while I’m sick!”

“I know, baby.” you shushed him, brushing some of his hair back. “I was just teasing.”

He breathed a sigh of relief, going back to his soup. “That isn’t a very nice thing to do to a sick person.”

“Well, if you had listened to your partner, you wouldn’t be sick right now.” you quipped back, a satisfied smirk on your face.

“Yeah, you’re right…” he sighed in defeat. “I definitely learned my lesson.”

You grinned triumphantly. “Good boy. Have you been feeling any better?”

“Not really. My throat still hurts and my nose is runny.” he complained. “But having you take care of me makes me feel a bit better.”

You smiled, squeezing his hand. “It’s no trouble. I’m not heartless after all. Hearing you admit I was right is reward enough.”

He chuckled at your cheekiness. “If I wasn’t so sick right now, I’d kiss you.”

“Awh…” you pouted, rubbing his thigh comfortingly. “When you’re better you can give me the biggest kiss in the world.”

“That’s all the motivation I need.” he grinned hopefully.

“Alright then, finish your soup and water and go straight back to bed.” you instructed, ruffling his hair a bit before you stood up to leave. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Yes, nurse.” he replied, giving you a theatrical salute.

You chuckled, then leaned forward to give him a quick kiss on the forehead.

“I love you, Y/N.” he whimpered as you opened the door.

You turned around momentarily to smile at him. “I love you too, baby. I hope you feel better soon.”

[cosmicdahlias]

Can Bill Come Out To Play?

a ford x reader fic

MINORS DNI

You and Ford are cuddled up in bed when Bill takes over for a night of fun.

warnings: smut, possession, masochism, consensual torture, knife play, blood play, blood as lube, oral, spanking, choking, bruising, fainting, slapping, dubcon impreg, putting cigarettes out on you

okay y’all this one is supremely fucked up, i know i’ve written my share of dark fics but this one takes the cake if the warnings are any indication. it was a request by @thegrovesheart but i probably went way more overboard than what they were asking for. i’m sorry y’all are about to see how bad my kinks are, hopefully you’ll still enjoy the ride 🤞

It was late at night, you and Ford had just finished a long day of working on the portal. You were cuddled up in bed, him pressed up against you as the big spoon. He was lazily tracing his fingers over the curves of your body. You had been about to fall asleep, but the sensation of his hands on you was too arousing. You rolled over, facing him and slipped your hand to his cock.

You stroked him and he let out a soft moan, his eyes closed in pleasure. You kissed him deeply, when you pulled back he opened his eyes, they were different, wild and yellow with reptilian slits for pupils.

“Ford?”

He laughed, even his voice was off, higher, more sinister. He smiled wide, almost like the corners of his mouth were about to split open.

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. The name’s Bill Cipher, I’m your good old boyfriend here’s muse. I figured if I’m gonna be in his mind I might as well get acquainted the little minx that occupies his thoughts when they’re not about me. That’s right, kid, the man’s absolutely obsessed with you, well, not more than me, but you’re a close second.”

“So what do you want with me?”

“Well, dollface, I’ve been taking a peek into your dreams and I gotta say, you are quite the freak. I’m honestly impressed, most humans don’t enjoy pain nearly as much as you do. Have you told Fordsy? I doubt it, honestly he’d be too much of a pussy to do any of the shit you think about. And that’s where I come in, you love fucking Ford, but he’ll never truly satisfy you in the way you want. I have no hangups about causing pain, hell I love it! If you agree, I’ll give you everything you want and more. What do you say?”

After your time researching things like demonic possession the idea of being fucked by a demon always excited you. And the fact that he’d hurt you in ways that Ford never would? Fuck the hell yes. You should have been terrified, but when you looked into those yellow eyes you only felt desire.

“Deal.”

“Ahahaha, perfect. Let’s get started.”

Ford’s hands traveled down your body, his grip rougher than normal. He put a hand to your neck and sank his teeth into your throat. You yelped as he drew blood, it seeped down your neck and Ford dragged his tongue over the crimson liquid.

“Fuck, I forgot how good that tastes.”

He got up, searching for something.

“I know sixer keeps one around here somewh- aha!” He said, pulling out a large hunting knife.

He walked back over to the bed, getting on top of you. He dragged the flat end of the blade against your skin, every so often testing the waters by poking you with the tip light enough to not slice into your flesh, not yet. Goosebumps formed from the sensation, no one had ever done anything to you like this, you were on cloud nine.

“I think you’ll like this.” He smiled.

He let the knife travel to your inner thigh and begin to cut the soft skin. You winced and moaned. Bill let out a cold laugh.

“God you’re fucked up, kid.”

He took his time carving the words “Bill’s slut” into your thigh, pearls of blood forming at the surface. Satisfied with his work he gathered your blood on his fingertips.

“Open that pretty mouth.”

You did so and his fingers entered, the metallic taste hitting your tongue. He pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his lips aggressively to yours, tongue shoving its way into your mouth, searching for the taste of blood.

He pulled away. His wide smile hadn’t left his face since he took hold of Ford. He reversed his hold of the knife, gripping the sharp blade in his hand. He teased the entrance of your pussy with the hilt. You were dripping at the idea, inching yourself closer.

He shoved the handle aggressively inside you, fucking you with it. He didn’t let up on his grip, the knife sinking into Ford’s palm, blood trickled down the knife.

“Whoops, might as well make the best of it.”

He pulled the handle out of you and covered Ford’s blood in it before resuming fucking you with the hilt.

“Bet you never used blood as lube before have you? And judging by how wet you are I’d say you’re enjoying this.”

You whimpered, bucking your hips. Blood continued to drip from Ford’s hand, staining the sheets. He pulled the knife out and dragged you headfirst to the edge of the bed, tilting your head back back. He stroked his cock and thumbed your tongue.

“I’m gonna fuck your mouth and I’m not gonna stop even when you choke and gag on Fordsy’s cock, sound good?”

You nodded.

“Good, just try not to puke on his dick, I don’t think he’d appreciate that.”

He lined the tip up with your open lips before violently forcing his way into your mouth, holding a hand to your throat the entire time.

He thrusted relentlessly and you began to gag, saliva pooling on the floor. He pinched your nipples hard, you let out a muffled moan.

“That’s right, moan on his cock.”

He carried on fucking your mouth. Savoring your desperate attempts to breathe. He debated on covering your nose just to make things harder, he loved to see you struggle.

He pulled out, you coughed and gasped for air. He picked you up and flipped you over on your stomach, shoving your face down into the pillow and raising your ass. Ford bent over and picked up his belt. He came up behind you and brought it down hard on your ass. You moaned as a welt began to form. He continued lashing you until your legs began to shake.

“Man you really can take a beating.”

He flipped you over again, this time on your back and slipped the belt around your neck then climbed on top of you, hand tugging on the leather.

“I’ve always wanted to know what pussy feels like, Fordsy makes it sound even better than pain with the way he describes it”

He didn’t waste any time preparing you, brutally shoving his full length inside you, pumping rapidly. He moaned loudly.

“Ah ahahaha, fuck, now I see why sixer fantasizes about this all the time. It feels fucking incredible.”

He pulled hard on the belt, choking you. You tightened around his cock. Capillaries in your neck started to break, you were going to be left with one hell of a bruise. He was ruthless, fucking you with cruel intensity.

He pulled the belt even tighter, you began to asphyxiate. Finding this insanely hot, but still valuing your life you tried to tell Ford to loosen his grip, but your windpipe was being crushed. All you could manage out was a guttural choking noise as you clawed at the belt.

“I’m sorry, what was that? I can’t quite make it out.” He said, ignoring your obvious attempts to breathe. He pulled as tight as he could, you couldn’t even gasp. “Oh well, must not be important.” He shrugged, continuing to fuck you.

Despite what felt like a threat to your life you found yourself incredibly turned on. Your vision started to go black. The last thing you heard was a maniacal laugh.

-

When you came to Ford was still fucking you.

“Whoa hey you’re back, thought we lost you for a second there.” He said with his twisted smile.

His hands found your hips, he gripped them, nails digging into your flesh hard enough to break the skin.

“Say my name, slut.” He demaned.

“Nnngh, Ford.” You moaned.

He backhanded you. “I SAID SAY MY NAME, YOU STUPID CUNT!” He shouted.

“B-Bill.” You whimpered.

“That’s better. Remember who’s really in control here, sixer will never fuck you like this.”

He pounded you into the mattress. He felt himself close to cumming.

“So you’re gonna find this hilarious, I’ve been having sixer switch out your birth control with sugar pills. That’s right, they do jack shit. I’ve always been fascinated by human pregnancy and I mean hey, you’re young and fertile. And it’s too late to stop me now. Ahahahaha!”

Before you could even think to push him off you he pinned you down by the wrists, cumming deep inside you. He bucked rapidly, ropes of hot cum shooting inside you. He grunted, refusing to stop even when his cock began to hurt. God he loved causing Ford pain. He didn’t know how humans got anything done or why they didn’t just fuck 24/7.

Ford took your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Well this was fun, but it’s probably time for me to give old Fordsy his body back, don’t yo- oh wait, one last parting gift.”

He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed a lighter and pack of cigarettes. He took one out and lit it up, taking a long drag and puffing the smoke in your face. He grinned wildly, turning your head to expose your neck and putting it out on your skin. You screwed your eyes shut and moaned loudly. He bent down and licked the burn.

“Oooh wee, you sure are fun. I’m definitely coming back for more, but I think I’m satisfied for now. Okay byeeeeeeeee.”

Ford’s head snapped back. He shook his head, blinking rapidly, his eyes returning to normal.

“Ugh, wh- what happened? Did I black ou- “ He looked down at you and gasped in horror, backing away from you to the foot of the bed.

You were a shaking mess, you honestly looked like you’d been through a bear attack.

“Y/N! WHAT HAPPENED? WHO DID THIS TO YOU?” He started to hyperventilate.

You sat up and took his face in your hands. “Hey hey, it’s alright, I wanted this.”

“OH MY GOD ARE YOU OKAY? SHOULD I TAKE YOU TO THE HOSPITAL? SHOULD I FILE A POLICE REPORT? DID I DO THIS? WHY AREN’T YOU SAYING ANYTHI-“ he froze. “D- did you say you wanted this?”

You kissed him.

“Look, I have been having some… fantasies and Bill and I both agreed that you wouldn’t be able to do them to me on your own.”

“You met Bill?”

“He was possessing you, but yeah I met him.”

He stared at you, looking terrified before attempting to fix his face to a more neutral expression, almost like he was afraid he would be punished for showing fear.

“That’s- that’s wonderful. I always hoped he’d let you meet him someda-“ now that the adrenaline had settled he got a good look at you. “Oh baby your neck.” He looked down. “Y- your thigh.”

Blood was trickling from both wounds. He looked at you with great concern.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Like I said, I wanted this.”

Without saying a word he got off the bed and left the room, he returned with a first aid kit. He sat next to you.

“Come here.” He whispered softly.

You leaned into him as he saturated a cotton ball in disinfectant.

“Now this is going to sting quite a bit.”

He applied the soaked cotton ball to your neck wound, you drew in a sharp breath at the sensation.

“I know, I’m sorry baby.”

“No it’s okay, I like the pain.”

He gave small chuckle. “So I’ve heard.”

He took a second cotton ball, wetting it with disinfectant, pressing it to the branding that Bill had left you. You winced.

Ford kissed your cheek. “Almost done, stardust. You’re doing so good.”

He pulled gauze and medical tape out of the first aid kit. He started with the bite, lining up the gauze to cover it and securing it in place with the tape. He then turned his attention to the words carved into your thigh, doing the same.

He got up and inspected you carefully from every angle until he noticed the cigarette burn.

“Ah, hold on.”

He left the room again, coming back this time with a soapy wet rag. He sat down next to you again and gently cleaned the wound.

“You can’t use disinfectant on a burn, slows the healing.”

He then dressed the burn the same way he had for your other injuries.

He had always secretly liked treating and bandaging your wounds, he found it to be quite intimate, not even in a sexual way, just that it allowed him to be close to you.

He cupped your cheek in his hand and went to kiss you when he realized he’d gotten blood on your face. He looked down at his hand and shook his head.

“Guess Bill got me too.”

“Don’t worry, I got it.” You smiled.

You took his hand, treating and dressing it just as he had done for you. As you finished wrapping is hand in tape you kissed his knuckles.

He laid back in bed and patted the space in front of him. You crawled up next to him, returning to spooning position. He buried his nose in the crook of your neck and sighed deeply. You were seconds from falling asleep when your eyes snapped open, remembering what Bill had done to your birth control.

“Oh yeah, so uh… Bill might’ve made you knock me up.”

“WHAT???”

-

In the morning Ford would make you stay in bed, insisting you needed rest. For the next few weeks he watched you like a hawk, secretly recording any possible pregnancy symptoms. He pretended to be nonchalant about you being knocked up, only entertaining the idea if you did, but deep down the thought of you pregnant excited him.

He had always imagined continuing his legacy, teaching his child everything he knew. One day he was going to be gone and someone was going to have to continue his work, and he wanted to keep it in the family. He spent his nights after working on the portal holding you, rubbing your stomach after you fell asleep, hoping, praying even that Bill had given him a miracle.

[princesskenny1998]

One Piece | Monkey D. Luffy x strawhat!reader ~ Attraction, PT.1

It was a lazy afternoon aboard the Thousand Sunny. The sun shone brightly through the windows of the galley, casting a golden glow on everything. The crew had just finished a hearty lunch, and now, most of them were lounging about, relaxing in various parts of the ship. Some of the crew were enjoying a game of cards, while others were reading or chatting among themselves.

You, however, found yourself sitting with Nami and Robin at the dining table, nursing a half-finished drink and enjoying the casual conversation that was unfolding.

"Okay, but seriously," Nami began, her arms crossed as she leaned back in her chair, "who do you think is the most attractive guy you've ever met?"

You raised an eyebrow, sensing this was one of those light-hearted moments where the crew could share opinions about things that were a little more personal than usual. "You're really asking that kind of question now?" you asked, teasing Nami with a grin.

"Come on, don’t act like you haven't thought about it," Nami responded with a wink. "Me and Robin are always talking about good-looking men. This time, it’s your turn. Who is your pick?"

Robin, sitting beside you, simply smiled faintly, her hands folded elegantly in her lap. "I’m curious too," she added in her soft, almost amused tone.

You chuckled, leaning back in your chair as you thought about it. Of course, the world was filled with handsome men, but picking the most attractive one? Now that was a tough challenge.

"Alright, fine," you sighed, acting like it was a serious decision, though in reality, you already had a clear answer. "Well, there’s always Eustass Kid. He's got that bad-boy vibe, and I’ll admit, I don’t mind a little arrogance now and then."

Nami rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Kid? Please. He’s all muscle and no charm. He barely smiles."

You shrugged, a grin playing on your lips. "Fair enough, but still... Then there’s Sabo. He’s got that cool, collected demeanor, and let’s not forget—he's got a heart of gold. But, if we’re being honest, he’s a little too serious for my taste."

Robin gave a small chuckle, clearly enjoying the conversation. "It’s true," she added, "Sabo does carry a sense of duty with him that can be a little intimidating."

You nodded thoughtfully. "And there’s Shanks. I mean, come on. The guy's a walking legend, right? He’s got the charisma, the leadership qualities, the swagger—he’s got everything. But…"

"But?" Nami prompted, leaning forward slightly. "There’s a ‘but’?"

"Yeah," you said, looking both of them in the eye. "I think the most attractive man, the one who truly takes the crown, is someone who’s right here. Someone who might not get enough credit for it."

Nami and Robin exchanged curious glances, clearly intrigued now.

"Who?" Nami asked, her tone a little sarcastic but also expectant.

You smiled, feeling your heart beat just a little faster as you said it: "Luffy."

Nami blinked, staring at you as if you'd said something utterly nonsensical. "Luffy?" she echoed, her voice rising with disbelief. "The same Luffy who’s constantly making a mess of everything, who never seems to know when to stop eating, and who always acts like a five-year-old? That Luffy?"

You could feel the heat rising to your face, but you didn’t back down. "Yes, Luffy! Don’t act like you don’t know what I mean," you said, leaning forward as if to emphasize your point. "Luffy is ridiculously good-looking, and I swear, he knows it. He’s got that effortless charm, that thing that draws people in without even trying. It’s like… he can be so carefree and innocent, but also—when he wants to—he can turn it on and be incredibly... attractive."

Robin raised an eyebrow and let out a small, almost amused chuckle. "I think I understand what you mean, but… are you sure it’s not just the admiration you have for him as the captain?"

You shook your head, the excitement in your voice growing. "No, no! It’s not just that. Sure, he’s a great captain, but there’s something about his presence that’s just magnetic. He has this way of walking into a room and instantly making everyone feel at ease, like everything is going to be fine just because he's there. And he has this kind of… subtle confidence, you know? Like, he’s completely aware of how good he looks, but he doesn’t flaunt it."

Nami gave you a skeptical look. "You’re seriously telling me you think Luffy’s good-looking?"

"Yes!" you said, almost a little too loudly. "I swear, it’s like he has this unspoken confidence about him. He doesn’t need to try to be attractive, it just comes naturally to him. And it’s not even just his looks—it's how he carries himself. There’s something about the way he’s so carefree, but then, in the blink of an eye, he can switch to being completely serious and commanding. He can be both a childish goof and a damn sexy man at the same time!"

Robin was quietly laughing now, but Nami seemed a little more skeptical, raising an eyebrow at your enthusiasm. "I still don’t get it. I mean, Luffy’s got somewhat of a nice body, sure, but… his personality doesn't exactly scream ‘heartthrob’."

You couldn't help but grin. "Oh, Nami, you just don’t get it. He doesn’t try to be anything. That's the thing! He's so real, so honest, so Luffy. And that’s what makes him so damn attractive."

You took a deep breath, your voice lowering a little, the words coming more naturally as you gushed. "Look, I know this is going to sound crazy, but sometimes when Luffy smiles at me, I swear my heart skips a beat. He doesn’t have to say anything—just his smile, his eyes—there’s this warmth in them that makes him look like the most amazing person alive."

Robin’s smile widened, clearly entertained by your fervor, while Nami just shook her head, clearly not convinced.

"I’m telling you," you said with absolute confidence, "Luffy is the hottest guy I've ever seen. Hands down. He’s the one who—"

Just then, you felt a familiar presence looming behind you. A shadow fell over your face as you froze, a sudden awareness of a certain someone’s proximity hitting you like a ton of bricks.

Luffy’s voice came from just behind your ear, smooth and teasing. "You really think I’m hot?"

You froze, your eyes wide as you immediately realized what was happening. Luffy was standing right behind you, his smirk somehow managing to be both casual and devilishly self-assured. He leaned forward slightly, his breath warm against your ear as he repeated the question, his voice dripping with playful confidence.

"You really think I’m hot?"

Your heart skipped a beat, and you could feel your face turn crimson. You immediately clammed up, caught completely off guard. For a moment, you couldn’t find the words. How in the world were you supposed to respond to that? The guy you’d just been gushing about was now right behind you, acting like he hadn’t heard a thing.

"I—I… uh… Luffy!" you stammered, turning around in your chair to face him. "Wha—What are you doing here?"

Luffy grinned even wider, clearly enjoying your reaction. "Just heard you talking about me," he said with a playful wink. "I thought I’d come see what all the fuss was about."

Nami was biting her lip, clearly trying not to laugh, while Robin’s amused chuckle only made you feel even more embarrassed. You could feel the heat of your blush spreading down to your neck, your words failing you as you struggled to come up with something to say. You had no idea how to handle this situation.

"I didn’t mean—" you began, but Luffy just leaned even closer, his face dangerously close to yours, his smile never faltering.

"Are you sure you want to take it back?" he teased, his tone low and confident, and for the first time, you could see the layers of his playfulness mixed with something undeniably... alluring.

You were so caught up in his gaze, in his teasing smirk, that for a brief second, everything else faded away. Luffy was everything you had just described—confident, handsome, playful, and yet, there was something undeniably charming about how unintentional it all seemed. He didn’t need to try to be anything, and that was what made him irresistible.

You gulped, finally managing to squeak out, "I—uh—I think you’re really hot, Luffy. Just… just like I said!"

Luffy raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying every moment of your embarrassment. He finally pulled back with a laugh, the playful tension breaking. "Well, thank you. You're hot, too," he said, grinning broadly.

Nami burst out laughing, unable to contain herself any longer, and even Robin was suppressing a giggle. You, on the other hand, were absolutely mortified, your face as red as a tomato.

Luffy turned around, strolling off with his usual carefree gait, leaving you to try and regain your composure.

"You’re hopeless," Nami teased, still laughing as you slumped back in your chair, face burning.

"I swear," you muttered, half laughing at yourself, half still trying to recover from the embarrassment, "I’m never living this down."

But deep down, as your heart settled back into its normal rhythm, you couldn’t help but smile. Because, yes, Luffy was hot. And somehow, you had just confirmed it to his face.

[orphicdreamers-wp]

I want to send a request for the umich boys. So every Sunday they have a “family dinner” where the friend group comes over with their girlfriends and they make an actual good dinner every Sunday night. Readers cooking and her boyfriend rutger gets handsy, so they sneak away and come back just in time for dinner, and just in time for the boys to tease rut about the hickeys on his neck

Get Your Lovin On — Rutger McGroarty

Summary: In which your boyfriend gets handsy while you guys are cooking

Content Warning; mild suggestive content(making out & hickeys), cussing, established relationships, UMich hockey players teasing Rutger & Reader

Pairing; Fem Reader x Rutger McGroarty

A soft laugh left your lips as your boyfriend placed a kiss on your bare shoulder, “Rut, we’re cooking.” Rutger placed his hands on your hips, “Well how am I supposed to focus when you look so pretty?” You hummed, “Tell you what, finish your task of cutting bread for garlic bread while I finish checking this lasagna and we’ll talk then.” Rutger grinned as he pressed a kiss against your lips, “Yes ma’am.” You grinned to yourself as your boyfriend returned to the other side of the kitchen and went back to the task in front of him.

You had turned lasagna and put it back in the oven, setting a timer in 45 minutes to take it out, when you approached your boyfriend and wrapped your arms around his waist, “So how about we go talk? In your room.” Rutger smiled widely, “I’ll meet you up there.” You grinned as you walked out of the kitchen. Luca munched on a handful on grapes as he watched you whisper something in his friends ear and then magically you both left the kitchen.

The moment your boyfriend entered his room your lips were interlocked. Your hands found their way to Rutger’s hair like they always did. His lips lightly sucking at your neck eliciting a soft breathy sigh to leave your lips, “Rut, as much as I love this, all our friends are here. So we can’t do anything more than this.” Rutger looked up at you and smiled, “This is all I need. To be in my girlfriends arms.”

You smiled, “Keep talking like that and you might be getting lucky when they’re all gone.” Rutger grinned, “You say that like I shouldn’t be excited.” You grinned as your lips attached to your boyfriend’s neck. Leaving small hickey’s across the base of his neck. Rutger let out a breathy sigh as he nuzzled his head into you chest. You grinned at your boyfriend as you laid your head against his pillows, “What’s going on in your head pretty boy?”

Rutger shook his head as he traced shapes on your bare arm wrapped around him, “Just thinking about how lucky I am to be with you. Sometimes I think about how crazy it is that your with me.” You furrowed an eyebrow as you sat up crossing your legs over each other, “Why’s that so crazy Rut?” Rutger blew out a breath, “Your perfect, your kind, smart, hilarious, the easy going person I’ve ever met, you have an energy that people gravitate towards. Also your the most stunning person in the world. And I’m just me.”

You smiled at your boyfriend, “I think you are the most amazing person I know, your considerate to everyone, your extremely kind you’d give the shirt on your back to a stranger if you thought they needed it, you are the most reassuring person I know. You say things that make me melt into a puddle because of how sweet you are. You have the prettiest eyes I have ever seen. Your laugh makes me feel so safe, and the way your looking at me right now, makes me feel like I’m the only person in the world. I don’t know who I’d be without you.” Rutger grinned as he placed a soft peck against your lips.

Rutger sighed as he melted into you, “We should probably head back out there now. Before they get any ideas.” You laughed, “I’ll be right down. I just wanna fix my hair.” Rutger nodded as he kissed you and headed out of his room. You walked into the bathroom he and Ethan shared and ran your fingers through your hair straightening it. You did your best to cover the hickey’s that were prominent across your collarbone. You made your way to the dining room where Ethan and Mark where prancing around in matching aprons Luca had bought them as a gag gift for Christmas. The two boys were tasked with bringing all the food to the table from the kitchen.

You slid into your seat in between Rutger and Ashley, Mark’s girlfriend. Luca sat directly across from Rutger with a smug smirk on his face upon seeing Rutger leaving his bedroom adjusting the collar to his shirt. You guys sat around the table laughing over whatever had happened in the week since you all had dinner together. You had been reaching out to grab your cup when your hair fell to the side revealing the growing purple hickey on your neck, it was only visible to Ashley and Luca, who both decided to say nothing even though they had both noticed.

You and Ashley were engrossed in a conversation about the professor in your shared public relations lecture. Rutger had thrown his head back as he burst into laughter. Luca grinned to himself as the hickey’s planted across Rutger’s neck was now visible to not just him but the entire group, “So that’s where you snuck off to Rut.” Your eyes immediately widened as Ethan walked over to your boyfriend and pulled his shirt away from his neck, “Damn Y/N you sure do mark what’s yours. Mark look at this!”

At the call from his best friend Mark waltzed over and tried to bite back a laugh, “Hold on she has some too.” Ashley moved your hair to the side revealing the maybe two hickey’s on your neck compared to the many on your boyfriend’s neck. Mark burst out laughing, “I knew Y/N had the power behind closed doors.” Your face was beat red as your boyfriend and you burst into laughter. You jokingly smacked Rutger’s arm, “We need to get our own place.” Rutger nodded, “Agreed.”

[dirtysvthoughts]

strawberry icing on your lips 🍓 - svthub valentine’s day collab

tags/warnings: fluff for the first half, smut for the second half, a bit of pwp, boyfriend! shua, female! reader, baking at home, lots of kissing, fingering, nana tour inspired, shua’s kinda a flirt in this one heh

word count: 1.45k

notes: hey besties! happy love day and i’m beyond excited to share my first svthub collab work! this valentine’s day collab was hosted by the amazing @wongyuseokie thank you supporting us! 🥰 please check out the other author’s works as well! :) this is my next biggest work for shua after private dancer, so i hope you all enjoy! to my lovely valentine @gyuhanniescarat i hope you enjoy reading and i love you have a safe and beautiful valentine’s day & carat day! 🥰

“okay, flour, eggs, milk.. what else are missing?” you ask observing the ingredients in front of you, moving them around to make sure nothing was hidden.

“are the strawberries on the table? oh man, we almost forgot the butter too!” your boyfriend remembers walking to the fridge, reaching for the said items.

you and your boyfriend joshua have been together for three years and the two valentine’s days you’ve spent together have been nothing short of wonderful. for the past two years, you’ve gone out on valentine’s day, but after he came back from a recent europe trip, both of you decided to stay at home this year. you wanted to give him some time to relax and get readjusted to being back at home.

in recounting his europe adventures, he told the story of the time he took a cooking class in rome. he made four different pastas from scratch, all with delicious sauces and wine pairings. hearing joshua tell you of his experience with the excitement and joy made your heart swell, which led you to an idea.

“hey josh, instead of going out this year, why don’t we make our own dinner at home? it sounds like a lot of fun from what you just told me. ooh! we could even bake something too! i’ve been looking at a ton of new recipes lately!”

your boyfriend sweetly laughs at your enthusiasm and kisses your forehead, “let’s do it then! we’ll have a nice candlelit dinner at home this year.”

back in the present, you two have finally gathered all the ingredients to get started with your dessert course - vanilla cookies with a strawberry cream icing. since dinner wouldn’t take as long to make, you decided to get the dessert portion out of the way first.

“hmm let’s see, i’ll work on the flour mixture first, do you wanna work on the icing?” you ask joshua, setting the stainless steel bowls out on the counter. “sure! can you pass me the heavy cream and sugar?”

soon, a comfortable silence surrounds the kitchen, the two of you working side by side, mixing and whisking ingredients together. there is one moment where you accidentally reach for the butter at the same time, gently laughing together as joshua rubs your hand, admiring your soft, delicate skin. you can’t help but blush at the feeling of his hand on top of yours.

more time passes and now, you’re working on molding the shape of the cookies together. joshua is just about done with the icing as well, testing the ribbons of cream as it drips off the whisk and back into the bowl.

“babe,” he turns his head toward you, still focused on flattening what is now your sixth cookie. you hum in response, not looking up just yet. “can you taste the icing for me? i think it’s done, but it might be missing something.”

you finish molding your cookie and quickly grab a spoon from your utensil drawer. you scoop a small bit of icing on the edge of the spoon, nearly melting at the sweet taste and smooth texture of the icing dancing across your mouth.

“josh, this tastes so good!” you exclaim happily, scraping a bigger spoonful this time, giddy as ever as you put the spoon to your mouth again, loving how everything combined to make such a delicious icing. “you did amazing baby! it has the right of amount of sweetness and everything!”

this time, joshua can’t help but blush at your continuous flow of praise, but he also couldn’t help but get hot from watching you taste the icing - your cute lips pressing together and the humming you made the second time you taste tested was not helping the rush of blood that went down to his body.

joshua quickly notices that you have a little speck of icing left on your lips, quickly seizing it as an opportunity to give into temptation and get his hands on you.

“hey baby, you have a little something right-“ he drags out the last word as he holds your jaw with his right thumb gently, his soft, gentle lips meeting yours. the kiss takes you by surprise, but you quickly melt into your boyfriend’s touch as you tilt your head to give him more access inside of you. the two of you establish a rhythm for a few moments until you pull away first, slightly breathless and a pleasant, heavenly daze taking over your body.

“there,” joshua finishes, chuckling as he holds you by your waist, lifting you up so you can sit on the edge of the counter. he swipes his left thumb across your lips and licks his own while you watch, the motion sending arousal down your spine.

he doesn’t hesitate to kiss your neck soon after, quietly moaning as his lips nibbled on your body’s sensitive spots. you push your bowl full of cookie dough to the side as joshua’s hands come underneath your tank top, roaming your soft skin.

with ease, he takes off the piece of clothing, lips moving from your neck to the center of your chest. this time joshua becomes bolder, letting his tongue get some action as he licks and sucks on the space between your breasts.

“sh-shua.. shua, o-ohhh,” you moan out louder this time, wanting him to hear how good he’s making you feel. you’re so caught up in the pleasure that he was giving your chest that you don’t even notice his fingertips walking along your thighs, then underneath your skirt - and eventually to your panty line.

before you can even say anything, joshua’s fingers pull the waistband back and let it go, snapping against your waist. you gals and bite your lip in pleasure as your body goes slightly forward and joshua smirks in return. his fingers continue to tease at your panties, the pink lace nearly making him form heart eyes in front of you.

“you’re so pretty for me,” he breathes out, dragging your panties to the side with two fingers. “always, so, so pretty,” he repeats as he slowly inserts another two fingers inside of your core, chuckling at how wet you already are.

“coating my fingers and i haven’t even started with you yet,” he scoffs. “just a needy little girl, aren’t you?”

“only for you,” you whine back with doe eyes. “only you make me this wet.”

“good to know,” he smiles as he starts pushing his fingers in and out at a steady pace, your whines becoming more breathy and high pitched. “mmmm, more, shua - please, more…” you request, eyes starting to glisten like diamonds.

“i’ve thought about this before.. taking you down in the kitchen, especially while i was away taking those cooking classes.. just even imagining you pressing up against me while prepping the ingredients was enough to get me hard,” joshua confesses. “seeing you get so excited over the icing, i couldn’t help my myself baby,” he softly smiles as he holds you by your chin again and kisses you, this time, his fingers making a circular motion inside of you.

whatever noises you release now are deep inside of his mouth, craving for more of him as you entwine your tongue with his once again. you feel the pressure in your body start to build, knowing that you were going to come soon.

joshua then begins a scissoring motion in your pussy, the highest pitched noises you didn’t even know you could make were pouring out of your mouth like a river. you were practically panting joshua’s name out now, begging for him to make you come, promising you will come like a good girl.

after one particularly good thrust, you release all over his fingers, coating them in your deliciousness. you pant into his chest, leaning forward as you take in his scent again, trying to regain your breath, but not wanting to come down from the amazing high.

“i don’t know what tastes better, you or the icing,” joshua teases when you sit up, looking into his eyes.

“you flatter me,” you playfully roll your eyes as you hold his hand, turning around to take a look at the clock. “well, we still have some time left before we actually start cooking the main course.. did you wanna-“

before you can even finish your sentence, he hoists you up again, and laugh, legs immediately wrapping around his waist as he walks you to the bedroom.

“i haven’t even done half the things i wanted to do with you yet this valentine’s day.. c’mon my pretty girl,” joshua swoons, moving your hair from your eyes. “dinner can wait just a bit longer.”

[brimleysbears]

(Featured media: Burl Ives and Rock Hudson - from The Spiral Road, 1962)

"Fan" fiction erotica - "Hollywood Confessions: My Date With Big Daddy"

Post 4 of 4

Epilogue:

A Horny Old Bull

To conclude, I was in fact on the pill, after all, it was 1963; therefore no, I didn’t begat a cute little chubby Ives child, although sometimes I wish I had. Although that man could be a bit of a creep at times, like most men I suppose, I’ll never forget that night with Big Daddy. In fact, as much as it was embarrassing, there were other reasons why I kept that story to myself after all these years. I admit, that was the most fun I’ve ever had with a man. Sometimes I question whether I was head over heels in love with that big old brute.

As much as I wanted to see him again, I found out soon afterwards that he had actually scheduled all of those men to see him that night with the intention of not telling me, while planning on having sex with me, in order for the meetings to coincide with his coitus. I never found out exactly why he did that, and if it was his intention to use me or not. I was angry for a season and never wanted to see him again after that, but looking back, I regret not seeing him more times. I would have liked to get all of his seed in me and looked at him face to face the entire time that he had his climax. I would have liked to try other things with him, and maybe even be his mistress when he was working in Hollywood. The more I learned about what probably did happen, was that he was proud to seduce a young dancer like myself, and although I don’t like to be someone’s ‘bragging rights’, in a way I felt honored. One of the older ladies at the Manhattan cocktail party said, “sounds to me like he was just trying to get those businessmen off his back and find ways to taunt them.”

As I spoke to my girlfriends late that night, finishing my story, one of the women remarked that, perhaps that lonely old man being away from home needed a special companion, and not another ‘high-profile figure’ like himself? As we talked, one of the more educated ‘uptown’ ladies said, “if you ask me, like a lot of men in show business those days, he was desperate to try to prove that he was a heterosexual; in a similar way they constantly had to deliver proof they were not some kind of communist as well. After all, Mr. Ives worked closely with a lot of queers like Tennessee Williams and was even filmed naked along side a half-naked raging fag, Rock Hudson, just a year or so before your ‘encounter’. Although I might say there’s probably a little pink in his blanket, Big Daddy sounds like a man who was not ‘light on his feet’, in fact, quite heavy handed like your story implied, which I found to be most intriguing. I think you’ve not only made a believer out of all of us in the room, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of us are going to start chasing after men like Sebastian Cabot – you’ve certainly piqued my curiosity about a kind of man I would have not previously considered and for that, I am indeed charmed.”

But it was another lady who might have had the best explanation: “did you ever consider the fact that although Big Daddy was a bit of a sex symbol in the 50’s, that Burl Ives in the 60’s was starting to get typecast too much in children’s and family shows to the point where the public was referring to him as asexual? If I were him, I’d want to prove to my collogues that I was a fully functioning sexual person with sexual needs and abilities. After a while, no matter what he said, chances are, his peers didn’t believe him until he found a way to show proof that he had a thriving sex life.” Maybe they were all correct. Maybe he was just another creep. Maybe he was someone really special. I do cherish those memories, and I still keep his private calling card with me in my purse all these years.

The End.

Copyright 2024 BrimleysBears

Feel free to share posts, however please copy only with permission, thanks, BB

Part 1

https://www.tumblr.com/brimleysbears/743973229412106240/featured-media-burl-ives-from-the-spiral-road?source=share

Part 2

https://www.tumblr.com/brimleysbears/743962348439666688/featured-media-burl-ives-from-the-spiral-road?source=share

Part 3

https://www.tumblr.com/brimleysbears/743868840199536640/featured-media-burl-ives-from-the-spiral-road?source=share

Part 4

https://www.tumblr.com/brimleysbears/743867190420307968/featured-media-burl-ives-from-the-spiral-road?source=share

[dalishious]

Veilguard Companion First Impressions

So, I’ve finally recruited all the companions for the Veilguard! And as such, I thought I’d share my initial thoughts on them each.

Please keep in mind that as the title says, these are just my first impressions. I am nowhere near finishing the game yet. My thoughts very well may change after getting to know the characters more as the story progresses. Also, please do not take any opinions you do not share as a personal attack against you.

Bellara

Bellara might be my #1 favourite.

I’ve seen some people just say Bellara is “a Merrill rip-off” but I don’t think that’s fair at all. If all it took was a few similarities to say a character is a rip-off of another character, than I can think of so many boring white cishet male characters who would be guilty of that. But heaven forbid we get more than one elven woman who is passionate about her people’s culture and history!

Frankly, I think Bellara is a breath of fresh air in terms of Dalish characters specifically. Finally, a Dalish elf who isn’t punished for being proudly Dalish by the narrative.

I also really appreciate that so much of her can be easily understood by her backstory, too. Like, her feelings of never being good enough is reflective of the very realistic grief she is experiencing.

Lucanis

If Bellara isn’t my #1 favourite, then Lucanis is. They really both dominate that spot neck in neck. I can’t decide if I want to put him in a jar and shake it to see what happens, or wrap him up tight in a quilt and give him some good coffee.

I’m just a sucker for Lucanis’s character archetype, is the thing. I love taking him out simply because he’s so much fun to have around. And in terms of companion arcs, his is the one I am most intrigued to see where it goes.

Taash

(While I haven’t personally gotten to Taash’s non-binary plot yet, I am aware Taash switches to they/them pronouns, so that’s what I’ll be using.)

The moment I met Taash felt my heart skip a beat. The only thing hotter than their appearance is their voice. I know BioWare probably left Taash out of a lot of the advertising because they wanted to keep Taash’s gender stuff a surprise, but oh my god, because of this I was taken by quite the surprise. And so far Taash seems to be the type to keep a hard outer shell to protect a much softer side, and that is yet another character archetype I really love.

Davrin

My initial gripe about Davrin’s writing being so exclusively about Assan rather than Davrin himself is slowly peeling away, I hope. While I still think its bullshit that you can welcome Assan into the Veilgaurd but not Davrin, at least I’ve finally gotten a few bits of dialogue to get to know more about him finally. I just want to keep this momentum! Because Davrin as a concept has so much potential, in my opinion, and what little bits I have gotten from him have captivated me. But I can’t tell yet if it’s intentionally part of his character that maybe he’s just a closed off person who takes a while to trust others, (a little like Taash?) Or if the writer just cared more about griffons than the actual guy. I’m really, really holding out hope for the former.

Emmrich

Emmrich is so much more charming than I expected, and I found him instantly endearing the moment we met him. I also really like that we’re finally hearing some different stances and insight on death and necromancy than we ever had before from a companion! It makes him feel so fresh and completely new!

Harding

I’ll be real with you: I was not anticipating caring about Harding so much. She was who I was originally least interested in, when the companion line-up was announced. But the direction they’re taking her in has me questioning so much about bigger lore questions.

Unfortunately, I still don’t see much in her except being a vessel for those bigger lore questions, though. Like, Harding as a person has me mildly curious at best.

Neve

I’m really sorry Neve fans, but I just find her really boring so far, in comparison to everyone else. She doesn’t have a lot going on, and what she does have going on, doesn’t really captivate me much. Maybe I was just hoping she’d have stronger stances on things than she does? I don’t know.

It could be that I just really fucked up with Neve, and it won’t be until another playthrough that I’ll get to experience more that will change my mind. Because I will admit I am very good at picking choices she disapproves of, with my first Rook.

[newtonsheffield]

Now that Take a Deep Breath is nearing the end, will one of your other WIPs take the weekly Friday update spot? If so, can I please put in my vote for YNCIWIW? Idk what it is about Author!Anthony and Editor!Kate, but they have me by the throat.

Also, I'm rereading childhood bffs, fwb Anthony and Kate in Hand, and I'm dead. Any chance we might see what they're up to?

Thanks for sharing your amazing writing with us. And I'm glad Greggy is doing better. :)

Okay so there’s two stories up for the next Friday fic:

1) Ice Skating partners Kate and Anthony who hooked up a few times and decided that they shouldn’t be in a. Relationship with each other for the sake of their partnership. They are however full of angst and jealousy over anyone each other should choose to date. Anthony B is the bad boy of figure skating and he’s determined to get Kate exactly what she wants; A gold medal

2) Surprise Neddy.

I think I’ll start a poll on this

Greggy is very much doing better today but still has a complete lack of regard for his stomach lining begging for jalapeño flavoured cheezels. Like a fool.

Anyway, My hand was the one you reached for Kate and Anthony are doing so well. Turns out all those years of friendship, even if it was mired in pining for one another desperately made for a pretty stable relationship. That being said I think one of the most stressful times in their relationship was when Kate taught anthony to drive. She completely understands why Anthony’s always avoided it. His Dad died in a car accident and the two have become linked in his mind. That being said, Kate’s pregnant and he just thinks it’s… time he did this. He can’t be asking Kate to drive herself to the hospital when the baby comes, can he?

So after a few weeks of secrecy, he’s got his provisional licence and he’s ready to ask his wife for maybe the most stressful thing he’s ever asked her for.

He felt anxious even at the thought of it. Even the thought of getting behind the wheel made his palms sweat as he walked over and flopped down on the sofa beside his wife.

Kate kissed him quickly, ruffling his hair. “Finished tricking women into buying your buns?”

Anthony rolled his eyes, “If only I could trick you.”

“I’ve bought plenty of your buns, thanks.”

Anthony took a deep breath, his hands shaking a little, “Can I ask you a favour?”

“Oh, you mean more than just carrying your baby?”

“Yeah a little more.” He steeled himself, “Can you teach me how to drive?”

Kate’s brow furrowed, “To drive?”

Anthony shifted, “Yeah I just… I think I should be able to for the baby, in case anything happens and… I just… I think I should.”

Kate nodded, “You know you don’t have to, right?”

“I know. I just feel the most comfortable with you so I… I think that’ll be best. ”

She smiled at him, “Okay, let’s do it. If our marriage can survive that he can probably survive anything.”

[literary-motif]

Hello! I truly adore your writing i'm obsessed. So may you please write an nsfw fanfiction in which darling embarrasingly talks to Andrew about a spicy dream they had about him?❤💖

Dream A Little Dream Of Me (NSFW)

Andrew Marston x Reader

You awoke with a start. Andrew’s hand in your hair stilled as you craned your head, looking up at him with big eyes. 

“Slept well on my thigh?” he asked, holding the open paperback in one hand — Agatha Christie's The Murder of Roger Ackroyd — while the other brushed strands of hair from your forehead. You looked disheveled, and he was partly to blame for that. 

Heat rose to your face, and you could no longer meet his gaze as the dream you had just had rushed back into your mind. You caught, hiding the embarrassment by laying your head on his thigh again and facing away from him. “Alright,” you mumbled. 

Andrew raised an eyebrow, looking down at you quizzically. “I thought you had a nightmare. You were making soft noises, almost like whimpers. I thought about waking you up, but” — he hesitated, feeling you press your face into his skin to hide — “what did you dream about, Darling?”

You stayed silent, squirming as your thoughts returned to what your imagination had conjured. It was embarrassing, and although you trusted Andrew and were completely comfortable around him, the thought that you had had a wet dream right beside him on the couch was mortifying. 

“You can tell me, you know. At first, I thought it was a nightmare, but then I heard you moan.”

“Stop, oh God,” you breathed, finally laying on your back to look up at him. “I didn’t mean to, it just kinda— I  guess last night fueled my creativity.”

Andrew broke into a large grin, marking the page of his murder mystery and Poirot’s adventure to give you his undivided attention. He chuckled, continuing to play with your hair as he bit his lip and looked fondly down at you. “Would you mind sharing?”

Your gaze flickered away. You clicked your tongue, fighting the urge to hide from his stare. His pupils were dilated, you noticed, and he looked stunning in the dim light of the overcast afternoon. You could have ravished him right then. The desire coiling in your abdomen, evoking an aching between your thighs made you wonder if telling him about your fantasy might not lead to a little reenactment. Maybe he would feel up to it. 

“Alright,” you said, clearing your throat and looking into his eyes. “Are you sure you want to hear it? It’s a little filthy.”

His eyes gleamed. “Oh, I’m positive.”

“Fine. We were coming home and as soon as we walked through the front door, you had me backed up against it, pinning me in place with burning kisses. I remember I could feel your desire, your hard cock straining against your dress pants already as you pinned my hands above my head and whispered — what did you say? — ‘I’ll fuck you so good you’re not going to be able to sit for a week.’

“You turned me around, pressing me against the door as you pulled down my pants and— well, fucked me against the door. It felt so good, darling, but I was terrified of the neighbors hearing. When I told you, you unfastened your tie and told me to bite down on it to muffle my moans. 

“After that, we were in the bedroom, and you were lying on your back with me straddling your hips. I was riding you, but I was panting heavily and my legs were shaking. You noticed and told me to stay still as you gripped my hips and fucked into me from below. 

“I— we never tried it before, I know, but in my mind, you looked so pretty. Your face was flushed, and some of your chest was a light shade of pink. Your lips were parted and you made so many sweet noises that sent my head reeling. I nearly finished, but then you sat up, changing positions to reach even deeper. 

“I was on my back, gripping the bed sheets as one of my ankles was on your shoulders and you took me with such a brutal pace I felt my whole body jump with every thrust. God, it felt so good, and you were so deep I don’t think I’ve ever felt this full. It was amazing.

“You were stealing my breath. I was panting so hard I felt lightheaded but you didn’t stop, even after I came twice already. You kept— you kept going as I twitched and squirmed beneath you, wrapping me in your arms as you slowed your pace, dragging your cock steadily in and out. It was such a sudden change to how rough you had been previously but that made it all the more delicious. 

“I loved it. You fucked me slow and deep, holding me tightly as I bounced with every thrust. You told me not to worry, that you would take care of me while all I could do was lie there and take it, my mind too far gone in a haze of pleasure to make sense of anything. You were making me feel so good — I mean, you always make me feel good, Andrew. This was something else though. I felt like I was drowning in pleasure, your cock so deep it nearly hurt. 

“You came with a cry of my name again, your warmth filling me up as I clenched around your still-hard cock, utterly spent. You pried my legs apart, pressing my thighs to the mattress as you said you weren’t done yet — but then I woke up.” 

You glanced at Andrew, cataloging every movement on his face. He slowly licked his lips. You raised your hand, cupping his cheek before moving your thumb across his bottom lip. He looked dazed, his eyes clouded over with lust as he stared at you, panting a little. Trailing your hand down his chest, you allowed it to rest in his lap, feeling his stiff cock under your palms. 

“I guess someone truly isn’t done yet?” you asked, palming him through his pants.

Andrew jolted, muffling a lewd moan against his fist. “How do you expect me to react when you tell me such nasty things? I— I just hope reality can live up to your fantasy.”

“You’re better than fantasy,” you said. You rose, kissing him deeply as your hands worked to unzip his pants and free his aching cock. He was already wet with precum, the front of his pants damp from his excitement. “How about we try something new, yeah? I want to ride you.”

He choked, throwing his head back in pleasure at the thought alone. “God, please,” he said, not bothering to stifle his moans as you sunk down on him. 

It was better than fantasy. 

[lilacliquors]

pairing: bi-han x reader

sweet or spicy: sweet

word count: 728

prompt: [  OVERHEARD  ]: sender reveals that they’re in love with the receiver to a third party, not realizing that the receiver, while out of sight, has just overheard the confession. - bi - han x reader

notes: here's day five of the sweet and spicy special! we've got some fluffy bi-han goodness that definitely takes place before bi-han's betrayal, and i had such a fun time writing this <3 even though i didn't want to use [y/n] and did my best to avoid it. that being said, if anyone would like a part 2 to this, just, you know, hmu ;)

your first time visiting outworld was everything you had ever dreamed it would be. everything around you was so vibrant, you couldn’t help but be amazed with it all. as part of liu kang’s security, you, along with the lin kuei brothers, stuck together while earthrealm’s champion and the others prepared for the tournament ahead. 

as it was tradition, there was a celebratory feast to welcome you all as guests, and to properly start the tournament, and it would be the one time you all got to unwind before you had to be on high alert. you and the brothers were sitting a bit farther away from the other earthrealmers, but still close enough if you were needed. 

“have you had any of the wine?” tomas asked you, offering you a glass.

“should we? i feel like this might be stronger than anything back home. can we really risk the possibility—”

“we’ll be fine,” bi-han interjected, his deep voice rumbling through you.

“well, maybe you will be. some of us don’t have fancy ice powers,” you said, smiling a bit. he looked away from you, and in the glow of the beautiful lights surrounding the tables, you swore his cheeks looked flushed. you and tomas shared a look, and you shrugged your shoulders before taking a glass of wine and sipping it slowly, determine to nurse it for the rest of the night.

once the feast was finished, and you were all heading off to your chambers, you took a small detour to wander the gardens. empress sindel had given you permission, and you weren’t sure if you’d ever get the chance to explore again, so you took the opportunity eagerly. as you walked around, you gazed at the flora, enchanted by its beauty. it was so strange to think that there were millions, perhaps billions, of people who would never know that outworld, and all of its beauty, existed. yet you were one of the lucky ones. as you continued on your walk, you could hear voices engaging in conversation, and you couldn’t help yourself. you were silent as you crept closer, and as the voices became more distinct, you could just make them out.

“... need to be honest with yourself, brother,” kuai liang’s voice was soft.

“there is nothing to be honest about. you’re looking too deeply into matters that simply do not exist,” bi-han replied, his voice gruff.

“nonsense. i saw the way you gazed at them during the feast. let yourself experience a bit of joy, bi-han. this life is short, and i don’t think father—”

“father wouldn’t know how to discuss this, nor would he care to.”

“i’m afraid i’ll have to disagree. you’ll remember how much he loved mother. of all his teachings, perhaps that is the one you should think about.”

you crept closer, your curiosity getting the better of you. the brothers were discussing … love? it was strange enough to think about either of them being in love, they were so honor bound, wrapped up in their duties, especially bi-han as he wore the mantle of grandmaster. but he would be needing heirs some day, so maybe the idea wasn’t too far fetched. and for some reason, it made you … sad.

“i don’t need to embarrass myself, kuai liang,” bi-han muttered. “as grandmaster, it would not do me any favors to make a fool of myself.”

“but you admit that, in order to make a fool of yourself, there’s … something there?” kuai liang asked, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. there were some faint grumblings, and then a quiet groan of frustration.

“yes. there is something there. i … i’ve fallen in love with them. and the way they looked in the glow of the lights, their laughter tonight, their smile … i couldn’t bear to lose it. yet i cannot face the shame and sting of rejection if they don’t feel the same,” he said, and his voice was the softest you’d ever heard. but above all of that … he was in love with you.

and you couldn’t say a word. you couldn’t let them know you had been eavesdropping. you couldn’t just pop out and present yourself. no, he had to come to you organically. and as you crept away from the brothers, you found yourself hoping that he did.

[weirdkpopgirl]

Friends Who Kiss | Chenle Fic #1

Title: Friends Who Kiss

Genre: Best friends to lovers, high school/college au

Warnings: mentions of the reader being insecure and having a mental breakdown at some point. a little suggestive, but not really

Word Count: ~ 5.6k

Author's Note: Okay to be very honest, I think that this story is kinda stupid and cliché. But it was an idea that I still wanted to try writing. And this is my first full-length fic for Chenle too, so I'm happy to post something for him. So to those who like cheesy romance stories, I hope you enjoy this. Thank you for reading ^ ^

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Since the start of high school, Zhong Chenle has been a consistent part of your life. He arrived as a transfer student from Shanghai, while you were the reserved kid who often used studying as an excuse to avoid social interaction. So rather than you reaching out to him first, it was he who practically claimed you as his best friend. Your personalities were a striking contrast, but it proved to be the perfect balance. It didn't take long for the two of you to become inseparable.

However, your friendship took a turn in eleventh grade. You guys had gone to your house after school to do homework. Except it was mostly you working on assignments, while Chenle was animatedly ranting about some mobile game Jisung was terrible at playing.

“It’s unbelievable! Every time I check his character gets killed,” Chenle laughed, and you responded with a soft hum of acknowledgment.

The boy glanced up from his phone to find you engrossed in your textbooks. While your attention was focused on writing an essay, you were also trying to keep your mind from drifting to the unsettling conversation you had during lunch that day. Typically, you and Chenle sat together with his friends. But Jisung needed the boy’s help stalking his crush, so you found yourself sitting with some of the girls in your class. 

Sensing the inner conflict brewing in your mind, Chenle rose from the bed and leaned over your shoulder. 

“You've been at this since we got here. How is your brain not fried?” he asked, blunt as usual.

You shot the boy with an unappreciative glare. “It is fried. But our essay is due on Monday, and I still have to help you with yours.”

Chenle sighed, well aware of your enduring determination. Ever since he met you, he couldn’t understand why you stressed so much over assignments, especially when you always completed them before the due date. Then you somehow managed to go out of your way to ensure he was doing the same.

“You’re more than halfway finished, and I’ll get to mine on my own time,” He reassured, “Why don’t you take a break for now?”

Before you could protest, Chenle swiftly pulled you out of your chair and guided you to sit on the bed with him. Worry clouded his gaze. “Something’s troubling you, isn’t it?”

Your teeth sank into your lower lip, hating how Chenle knew you so well. He didn’t have a problem sharing what was on his mind, while you were the exact opposite. Yet, even a single look at you was enough for him to detect something was off.

“The girls at lunch were going on about their dating experiences and stuff,” you began to explain, your tone tinged with irritation at the memory. “They were all so surprised when I said I haven’t had my first kiss yet.”

You pushed yourself to meet Chenle's gaze, half dreading that he might burst into laughter. Instead, his expression held a hint of amusement, and that alone made you regret bringing up the topic.

Before he could respond, you hurriedly attempted to backtrack on your words. “It's stupid, I know—”

“It’s not stupid if it’s making you upset,” Chenle said firmly.

Leaning back in your seat, you let out an exasperated sigh. “I just can’t get their judgmental looks out of my head. All because I don’t have much experience with dating?”

Chenle's expression softened as he confessed, "There's nothing wrong with that, and there’s a lot of people like you. I haven't had my first kiss either."

“Really?!” You stared at him in disbelief. “Didn't you date Ko Mi-so though?”

Chenle scoffed, appearing slightly offended. “Okay, that happened such a long time ago. And we didn't even last a month, so we never kissed.”

Now that you thought about it, he was right about their relationship ending almost as quickly as it began. You recalled the time back in tenth grade when Chenle was quite smug about dating Mi-so, who happened to be the prettiest girl in class. Frankly, you were somewhat relieved when they broke up, given that she didn't particularly like you. Chenle hasn’t dated anyone since.

“Oh, I guess that makes sense,” your voice trailed off. 

The boy stayed silent for a moment before an idea dawned on him. “You know what? Why don’t we have our first kiss now?”

Your cheeks felt like they were competing for a world record in how quickly they heated up at Chenle's proposal. He couldn't possibly be serious.

“Did I hear you right?” you stammered, thoroughly taken aback by the suggestion.

Chenle nodded confidently, “I mean, we're best friends, so it's not that weird. And it's better than kissing someone we don't know as well or not have a connection with.”

You could kind of see his point. Having Chenle as your first kiss did seem much safer than kissing some random guy. Besides, it wasn’t like either of you had any underlying feelings for each other. This would solely be for practice.

“Alright,” you reluctantly agreed, “But you have to promise not to make fun of me if I turn out to be a bad kisser."

Chenle chuckled and nodded. He inched closer to you on the bed, leaving little space between the two of you. Although he saw you every day, having your face this near made a faint blush tinge his cheeks.

He started to lean in more before pausing. "Um, maybe you should close your eyes."

"Oh—right," you mumbled awkwardly, then took a deep breath before allowing your eyelids to shut.

He had to suppress a chuckle, finding you kinda cute in that moment. Before you had a chance to second-guess yourself, Chenle pressed his lips against yours in a tender kiss. Shortly after, he drew back, searching for your reaction.

“So, how was that?” He asked, voice laced with teasing.

You stared at him incredulously for a moment before realizing he was waiting for you to answer. “I suppose it was okay,” you mumbled.

Chenle tilted his head with an amused grin. “Just okay?”

“Yeah, I guess I didn't feel much because we're not really into each other like that,” you admitted with a nonchalant shrug.

Okay, you might have partially lied about not feeling much during the kiss. Truth be told, there was this strange, fluttery sensation in your chest when your best friend's lips grazed yours. But perhaps all first kisses were like that, and you were simply overthinking it.

The boy beside you let out a hearty laugh. “Well at least we got that over with.”

You had to muster all your self-control not to blush when he followed up with, “And you're not a bad kisser, by the way.”

Believing that the experiment was over, the two of you returned to your previous tasks. Nothing changed much after that day in your bedroom, as you and Chenle remained best friends. But little did you realize that this wouldn't be the last kiss you'd be sharing with him. 

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Despite your previous attempts to justify it, the second kiss you shared with Chenle happened partially because of you. As your senior year of high school unfolded, Chenle prepared for his performance at the spring festival. It was you who initially urged him to participate in the talent show. The countless times you had witnessed his piano playing and singing during your private moments together convinced you that he should share his talents with the world. Your compliments not only fueled Chenle’s ego but also prompted him to eagerly jot his name down on the sign-up sheet.

However, what you didn’t expect was to find him backstage, looking as pale as a ghost. He was supposed to go after a group of girls who were dancing to Red Velvet’s “Red Flavor.” With the intention of cheering him on in person, you spotted the dark-haired boy sitting on a chair, anxiously bouncing his legs.

“Last-minute jitters?" you asked softly.

Chenle glanced up at you and crossed his arms in a nonchalant manner. “What, me? I'm fine,” he replied, though his tone lacked conviction.

Just as Chenle knew you like the back of his hand, you were among the few who could read him. While he was partially correct about never being nervous, it didn't take an idiot to perceive that he was in that moment. It was evident he was trying to play it off to uphold his confident image. 

One aspect that troubled you about Chenle was his constant facade of cheerfulness and carefree demeanor. No one could genuinely be happy all the time, and he was the kind of person who concealed his negative feelings when around others.

After deliberating on how to address the situation, you gently rested your hand on his shoulder, bringing yourself to eye level with him.

“Hey, you’re going to be amazing out there,” you reassured him. “I’ve seen how many hours you put into practicing that song. You have nothing to worry about.”

Chenle let out a heavy sigh. “Yeah, you're right.”

The smile he bestowed upon you didn't quite convince you. Biting your lip in hesitation, you glanced around to ensure no one else was nearby. Once you were sure that you were alone, you leaned down and gently planted a kiss on the boy’s forehead. Chenle’s eyes widened in surprise at your actions.

“What was that for?”

Blushing, you took a step back and stammered, “Just for good luck, you know. I—I’ll be right there in the crowd, watching you. So if you feel nervous on stage, just look at me.”

A more reassured smile spread across Chenle’s lips and before he stood up to swiftly peck you on the lips, leaving you more stunned than he was a few seconds ago.

“There, I definitely feel more ready now,” he declared with a teasing glint. And the smug Chenle you were familiar with had returned.

As Chenle’s playfulness lingered in the air, the sound of the audience clapping erupted for the girls, putting an end to your “moment.” With a knowing look, you both parted ways, allowing Chenle to step into the spotlight for his performance.

As he took the stage, you found a spot in the crowd, eyes fixed on him with awe. The rhythm of the applause filled the air, drowning out any lingering thoughts. In that moment, the stage became his world, and you couldn't help but be swept away by the magic of his talent. The earlier exchange faded into the background as you watched Chenle shine, each note and melody weaving a captivating spell that left you in admiration.

Neither of you mentioned the kiss after that day. The interaction remained more platonic than anything, a gesture that was only meant to show your support for him. But Chenle still liked to think he killed the stage because of it.

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Chenle was undeniably responsible for the next time the two of you kissed. However, this particular incident didn't unfold until the first semester of your freshman year in college. The joy of discovering you both had been accepted into the same university was palpable, though Chenle appeared to be more exuberant about the news. In contrast, you felt a sense of relief, grateful that you wouldn't be venturing into the world of college alone.

In one of your classes, a sunbae began to show interest in you. Despite your attempts to politely reject him, it became apparent that he wasn't willing to accept no for an answer. 

One day after class, he cornered you in the hallway, insisting that you go out with him. As you tried to maintain your composure, he grabbed you by the wrist when you tried to walk away. The harsh move triggered internal panic within you.

You could sense the danger in his tone as his head tilted cockily. “Come on, (Y/n), don’t be so difficult. I know you’re just playing hard to get.”

“I—I’m sorry but I just don’t feel the same as you, Sunbae,” you stuttered, trying to be assertive. “Please let go.”

Refusing to relent, the sunbae was on the verge of pulling you in closer when another hand intervened, forcefully ripping you out of his grasp. Your head turned in astonishment to see Chenle casting a disgusted look at the guy in front of you. The flames in Chenle’s eyes made you realize that you had never seen him so livid before.

“She said to let go of her. What part of that do you not understand?” Chenle’s voice cut through the tension.

The sunbae scoffed and crossed his arms in defense, “Yah, who are you to involve yourself in someone else’s matters? Are you her boyfriend or something?”

You watched as the corner of Chenle’s lips turned into a smirk as he snaked an arm around your waist in a protective gesture. 

“That’s right. So who are you to go after another man’s girlfriend?” he retorted confidently. Your eyes widened, almost surprised as the jerk in front of you.

Shaking his head in a mix of disbelief and embarrassment, the sunbae pointed a finger at you. “This is a joke, right? You just asked him to pretend to be your boyfriend to mess with me!”

Before you could respond, Chenle took matters into his own hands. His free hand briskly moved to the back of your neck, drawing you in for a passionate kiss. In a typical situation, your best friend's impulsive actions might have freaked you out immediately. However, the way his fingers delicately pressed against your back reassured you that he was doing this for your sake, Closing your eyes, you kissed back and tried to reciprocate with the same passion Chenle was pouring.

Moments later, Chenle pulled away and turned to the sunbae, wearing a satisfied grin on his face. “Do you believe her now? Not that she has to prove anything to you.”

The older male muttered begrudgingly under his breath, “Whatever, not worth my time.”

With a scowl, he stormed off, leaving behind a palpable sense of relief in the wake of his departure. Once he was gone, you removed yourself from Chenle's hold and shot him a look of confusion.

“You know you didn’t have to do that right?” 

Chenle chuckled, “Well, someone had to put an end to his nonsense. Besides, I've always wanted to play the protective boyfriend card.”

“Protective boyfriend? You almost gave me a heart attack!” You smacked him on the shoulder.

Chenle’s smirk remained, but he adopted a more concerned tone. “But seriously, (Y/n), why didn’t you tell me he was bothering you earlier?”

“I thought I could handle things on my own.” You shrugged weakly, lowering your head in guilt.

Chenle sighed, recognizing your aversion to depending on others for your problems. Throughout the time he’d known you, he'd witnessed your willingness to go to great lengths to help those you cared about. However, when it came to your own struggles, you seemed to prefer suffering in silence.

“We’re best friends for a reason,” he reminded you, “Looking after each other is 50/50, you know?”

You offered him a small smile, “I guess you’re right. Thanks for saving me today.”

“Well, you can thank me by buying food tonight,” Chenle said, the playful glint returning to his eyes. “It’s your turn anyway.”

Rolling your eyes, you let him lead you out of the building. But Chenle’s words from earlier lingered in the back of your mind. “We’re best friends for a reason.” 

The two of you were the epitome of what best friends were. And that was all the two of you would ever be, right?

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At this point, you were beginning to lose count of the number of times you’ve kissed your best friend. Despite this, your friendship maintained its familiar rhythm throughout the university. But after that hallway encounter, the awkwardness that came with kissing your best friend faded. Although it was more of Chenle seeming unfazed, and you becoming less surprised each time it happened. And indeed, there were a few more instances that caused your lips to meet.

Like the time Chenle excitedly dragged you to his dorm to watch a Golden State Warriors game, and, in the heat of the moment, he gave you a quick kiss before cheering some more. Then there was the other time when you both went out for drinks with friends, a few drunken kisses were shared.

There weren't any real feelings attached to the kisses you and Chenle shared. At least, that was what you repeatedly told yourself. However, as you were halfway through your first year of university, you finally started to question the true nature of your friendship with Zhong Chenle.

Those thoughts began to sink in just before your first finals in college. Isolated in your dorm room, you immersed yourself in studying for a math exam scheduled in three days. Calls and texts from friends went largely ignored as you turned off your phone in an attempt to focus. However, Chenle wasn't about to let that slide. 

One night, he let himself into your dorm, carrying a bag of your favorite takeout—knowing well that you tended to skip meals when stressed. You could see the determination in his face, ready to scold you. But the expression quickly transitioned to one of concern when he caught you on the verge of a breakdown. 

You sat at your desk surrounded by textbooks and notebooks filled with scribbled equations. The sight of your trembling body and slightly tousled hair, a result of pulling on it too hard, tugged at Chenle’s heart. He was well aware of how your anxiety affected you at times. But he had never witnessed it manifest quite like this.

Instantly, the bag was placed on the floor, and he was at your side. “(Y/n), what's wrong?" 

“I—I'm going to fail my calc final,” you swallowed, your fingers curling into fists. Your shoulders slumped, and the weight of despair was evident in the way you hunched over the desk.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, attempting to calm you down. “You still have a few weeks before finals, (Y/n). And you’re not going to fail.”

“Yes, I am!” you cut him off, your voice strained. Tears welled up in your eyes, and your hands clenched even tighter. “I’ve been studying for days, and my dumb brain still doesn't understand anything. Do you know how stupid I feel?”

“Being bad at math doesn’t make you stupid, (Y/n),” Chenle said, trying to inject a bit of lightheartedness into the situation. However, his comment didn’t seem to offer you any comfort.

You shook your head miserably in response. “Stop trying to be nice. I'm going to fail, and then I’ll end up letting down my parents and everyone else.”

Chenle’s heart ached at the defeat in your voice. Setting his jokes aside, he recognized that words weren’t what you needed at the moment. Instead, he enveloped you in a warm embrace. You hesitated only briefly before surrendering to his comforting hold, attempting to fight back tears.

“Just let it out,” he whispered.

Those simple words acted as an emotional release trigger, and Chenle found himself gently rubbing your back as you quietly cried into his shoulder. A sense of mixed emotions flooded him as he held you in that moment. A part of him felt a twinge of relief, grateful that you let him be there for you. You often kept your emotions bottled up, making it a challenge for him to discern how you truly felt at times. 

However, there was a pang of sadness accompanying that satisfaction. He knew you didn't just cry in front of anyone, and realizing that you had reached this breaking point signaled the depth of your struggle.

After a while, Chenle gently pulled back, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You need a break, (Y/n). Let’s step away from the desk for a bit.”

"No, I really should—" you began to protest, but Chenle cut you off.

"You really should eat the food I brought you before it gets cold," he insisted, picking up the bag again.

He led you to sit on the carpet of your cramped dorm room, creating a makeshift dining space for the two of you. As you both shared a meal, Chenle continued to provide a comforting presence, occasionally cracking a joke to lighten the atmosphere.

As the night wore on, the exhaustion in your eyes became more prominent. Even so, you knew you should go back to studying. But Chenle seemed to disagree.

“Maybe you should just rest for the night. I promise to help you with math in the morning,” he suggested. However, upon seeing the unconvinced look you gave him, he backtracked on his words. “Okay, I'll have Renjun help you.”

Too tired to argue, you gave in, and that's how you found yourself lying in bed with your best friend. Back in high school, you used to have sleepovers at his house on the weekends. At night, the two of you would be lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and talking about anything. However, having him beside you at that moment felt strange. 

You saw a sincere tenderness reflected in those large eyes of his. A part of you wondered if Chenle often gazed at you with such fondness and you simply hadn’t noticed before. Either way, the way he was looking at you made you feel even stranger. And the short silence that had settled between the two of you wasn’t helping.

Uncertain of how much longer you could endure the intensity, you broke eye contact with him and murmured, “Thank you for always being there for me, even when I try to push you away”

Chenle chuckled, adjusting his position to prop himself up on his elbow. “Well, of course, because how could you live without me?”

His ability to joke at a time like this struck you as unfathomable. Instead of the usual eye roll or pushing off the bed, a serious expression remained etched on your face. 

“You're right, I don't think I can live without you,” you said, your voice laced with drowsiness. “Because you’re one of the few people who truly care about me.”

The amusement in his eyes danced away, as he felt the gravity of your words. Something about seeing this vulnerable side of you was so beautiful in his eyes. Before he could fully process his own thoughts, Chenle found himself leaning in to close the space between you with his lips meeting your own.

Uncertain whether it was the leftover stress from your meltdown or the sleep deprivation that prompted you to kiss back without much thought. You could recall all the times you’ve kissed Chenle throughout the years. But this one would always stand out to you.

This kiss lasted a lot longer than your previous ones. But it wasn’t just the way he tilted your chin upward for a better angle, or the feeling of his dark locks of hair slipping between your fingers. Nor was it the soft pressure of his lips moving in sync with yours. It was the indescribable emotions that made time seem to stand still, weaving an unspoken connection that surpassed words and left you yearning for more.

Aside from pulling away, both of you gasping for breath, and noticing how Chenle's lips were redder than you had ever seen them, you vaguely recalled what happened after the kiss. When you woke up the next morning, Chenle was already gone. However, he had left you a text message, mentioning that he went to check if Renjun could help tutor you in math.

But math was no longer the sole stressor in your mind. Your best friend had kissed you last night, and unlike all the other times, this one left you feeling more confused than ever. 

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True to his word, Renjun offered to meet up with you that Sunday afternoon at the campus library. Within an hour of sitting down to unravel the calculus concept that eluded you, Renjun finally helped you grasp the material. Although the looming fear of failing finals had diminished, you still felt a weight on your shoulders.

“You don’t seem as relieved as I thought you’d be,” Renjun remarked lightheartedly. Even he could tell your mind was preoccupied with something else.

You smiled sheepishly, “No, I am! I seriously owe you for helping me out. I just…”

“Is it something to do with Chenle?” he asked, almost like he was a mind reader.

His unexpected question caught you off guard. “How did you know?” you stammered, feeling the heat quickly rise to your cheeks.

A knowing smile played on the boy’s lips as he leaned back in his seat. “Oh come on, (Y/n). You have that look on your face that something happened between the two of you.”

Sometimes you seriously wished Renjun wasn’t so good at reading people. Even though you weren’t as close to him as Chenle was, he’s known you long enough to notice things that others wouldn’t. For instance, when something was troubling you.

Biting your lip, you debated whether to be truthful with Renjun. Although you didn't typically share your problems with others, you recognized that confiding in someone at a time like this was necessary to maintain your sanity.

“Chenle kissed me last night,” you tossed the statement out in the air, hoping you wouldn’t regret it.

Renjun’s eyes widened at this revelation, “He did?!”

“Well you see, we’ve kissed before. But this time it felt different,” you clarified, baffling the boy across from you even more. Internally cringing, you were acutely aware of how bad this sounded.

Before he could question, you continued to elaborate. “Look, it's not as complicated as it sounds. It’s just ever since we agreed to be each other’s first kiss, Chenle and I just keep having these…accidental kisses. Whether it’s out of excitement or to get guys hitting on me to go away.”

Renjun listened quietly as you recounted all the other times you’ve kissed Chenle. When you circled back to the previous night, you felt more conflicted than ever.

“But the kiss last night left me feeling so confused,” you confessed, running a hand through your hair. “Initially, I thought he was just doing it out of comfort, but now I’m not so sure.”

“Well, have you considered the possibility that he has feelings for you?” Renjun inquired, crossing his arms. His suggestion sounded so simple, yet it felt like navigating uncharted territory in your mind.

You shook your head in denial. “N—No, I mean we’ve been best friends for five years. He can’t possibly see me that way.”

“Like that’s ever stopped friends from falling for each other,” Renjun cocked his head. “It doesn’t take a genius to know that he likes you, (Y/n).”

His point made you mentally curse. If you looked at your history with Chenle from an objective point of view, the two of you certainly didn’t act like normal best friends.

“And, it’s pretty obvious that you like him too,” Renjun added, twirling the pencil between his fingers.

His statement left you feeling exposed, as if you had been caught red-handed committing a crime. Laughing nervously, you shook your head, “Renjun, we’re just friends. I…I don’t see him that way.”

Renjun raised an eyebrow, “Friends who kiss? Did you really not feel anything in those moments?”

Your teeth sank further into your lower lip as Renjun’s question hit you. The reality of your feelings for Chenle lingered in the air, challenging the facade you had built to convince yourself otherwise. It was like trying to hold sand in your fists, slipping away no matter how tightly you clenched. The truth, however inconvenient, seemed to be unraveling before you.

“I…I did feel something,” you slowly admitted, “But I never said anything because I didn’t want our friendship to change. It just seemed easier to pretend those moments were nothing more than accidents.”

Renjun’s eyes softened with understanding. “Well maybe a little change is what you need in your friendship.”

Maybe Renjun was onto something, perhaps change was necessary. In the past, you had always held out on dating, using the excuse that you were waiting for the right person. Despite the fear of potential rejection, what if Chenle was the person you had been waiting for all along?

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Chenle’s living room bathed in the gentle glow of the TV screen, a familiar sight during your Friday movie nights since college began. It was supposed to be a time to unwind, to escape the pressures of school for a little while. However, instead of the usual peaceful and easygoing atmosphere, an unspoken tension hung in the air tonight. Beyond picking a movie and deciding who made the popcorn, you and Chenle barely talked. The weight of the unspoken words made the space feel suffocating, and you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in your chest.

Unable to endure the weighty silence any longer, you turned your head to make a lame comment about the movie. However, before you could speak, Chenle beat you to it.

“Can we talk?” His voice carried a hint of restlessness, an unusual departure from his usual tone.

Trying to maintain a casual demeanor, you lightly nodded. With your acknowledgment, Chenle exhaled deeply and sat up straighter to face you properly.

“I know how crazy this might sound,” he started, running a hand through his hair. “But I’ve been thinking, and I don’t think we can stay friends.”

His words felt like a gun being pointed at your chest, panic surged within you as you tried to process the boy’s words. Of all the ways you predicted this conversation could go, this was not one of them.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your voice even smaller than his.

Noticing the perplexity in your eyes, Chenle continued. “You see, I've been in love with you for—I don’t know how long. But I spent all these years burying my feelings like a fool, because I never thought you’d see me that way. Yet, every time we kiss, it becomes harder for me to ignore my feelings for you.”

Chenle glanced down at his folded hands, vulnerability seeping into those brown orbs of his. “The other night made me realize that I don’t want to just be friends who kiss anymore. I want to be something more to you.”

His words lingered in the air now that they were out in the open. Your heart raced faster than it ever has before, as your cheeks flushed with heat. Chenle’s eyes bore into yours, his expression nervous yet hopeful. 

For a moment, you were left speechless. But you still had the sense to hit him on the shoulder, scolding, “Oh my gosh, you can’t start a conversation like that, Chenle. You scared me!”

The boy chuckled sheepishly, rubbing his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. But seriously, (Y/n), I meant what I said.”

A mix of emotions played on your face before you quietly admitted, “Honestly, I’ve wanted to be something more to you since that day we kissed in my bedroom.”

You noticed a smile of relief beginning to form on his lips, but you held up a finger before he could say anything. Now that he had taken the first step, you decided it was time for you to do the same.

“But I kept trying to convince myself that all the times we kissed were accidental or just for comfort,” you confessed, looking directly into his eyes. “And the reason I’ve been pushing away my feelings for you was because I was afraid of losing a friend who means the world to me.”

His hand rested on top of yours, the light touch sending a shiver down your spine. “You don’t have to be afraid because you’ll never lose me, (Y/n).”

The softness and sincerity in his eyes made you want to cry for some inexplicable reason. You once believed that confessing your feelings for Chenle would only lead to frustration and heartbreak. However, as you sat here with him, holding his hand, those worries seemed to vanish.

“So…what do we do now?” you asked, unsure of what was supposed to come next in these situations.

A mischievous glint danced in his eyes as he grinned. “I think this is the part where we kiss. But you know, as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

Just as you were processing his words, he moved closer, his breath warm against your skin, making your heart flutter. His eyes searched yours for permission. 

“Well, what are you waiting for then?” you whispered.

With that, the distance between you closed, and your lips met in a tender kiss. It was a sweet surrender, a culmination of years of friendship and suppressed feelings. Although this wasn’t your first kiss with Chenle, it felt that way in a sense. For you could finally savor the tender feeling of his lips without questioning the intention behind it.

In that moment, all you focused on was the way Chenle had his hand on the small of your back, guiding you closer as he deepened the kiss. Your fingers found their way to rest on the nape of his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin. 

Although the change in this dynamic had just begun, this newfound connection promised countless moments of shared laughter, whispered confessions, and the sweet warmth of shared kisses. You had a feeling that you could easily get used to this beautiful new normal. By the way Chenle smiled during the kiss, you could tell he felt the same way.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

[togrowoldinv]

Devout

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

You meet Wanda Maximoff at church and she later approaches you with a special request that you just can’t refuse

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, uh public sex, fingering (W receiving)

Note: I just think that milf!wanda. Happy love and death week! Enjoy this one!

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

You’ve seen her around town. This Wanda Maximoff that the old ladies in the church are whispering about this morning.

You don’t usually attend, but you were asked by a friend to come today so you got dressed and trudged your way to the building.

Wanda stands with the choir; her hair is in perfect place as she hits every note. She’s devout, you hear the women say. She is crazy, another one adds in. She is having an affair, the last one says. But then the music stops, and the gossiping is put on hold until the preacher has finished.

The choir walks out a side door, and all of them return to their normal church pews. Except for one woman. Wanda. You wonder where she disappears to. You pay no attention to the preacher, not that Wanda is all to blame for that. The sermon is boring, and you’ve heard the same thing before.

So, when the final ones are spoken and prayer is prayed, you are itching to get out of the church. On your way outside, you see her again. Wanda. Swallowing your nerves, you approach the woman.

“Hey there! Welcome to our church!” Wanda greets you like she would any other visitor.

“Oh, I’ve been here before, but thank you, ma’am.” You smile at the way she steals a quick glance over your entire body. You wonder what rumors about her might be true. “You were great up there today.”

“It takes all of us,” Wanda says. “But that’s mighty kind of you.” There are people behind you seemingly waiting to talk to Wanda. “I’ll see you next week?” She asks.

“We’ll see,” you tell her. With that, you leave her to greet more people.

Over the next few days, you try to get Wanda out of your head, but you just can’t. You shouldn’t be thinking about a married woman so much, but Wanda is clearly someone special.

It’s like the prayers you haven’t even prayed are being answered when you run into Wanda at the grocery store.

“Hi, I know you,” Wanda surprises you when she approaches you first.

“Yes, you do. I’m y/n,” you offer, and she smiles.

“It’s so nice to meet you again. I’m Wanda.”

“Right. You’re something of church royalty around here,” you say.

“Oh, I’m not sure about that,” Wanda remarks. You stand there for a few moments without saying anything. Wanda thinks of a way to break the silence. “Has anyone invited you to the cookout on Saturday?”

“No ma’am, but I didn’t expect an invite. I’m only a once or twice a-year churchgoer.”

“Well come on by, alright? Saturday at 6 in the parking lot.”

Something in you, practically your desperate attraction to her, makes you say yes. She goes about her way and you grab a few extra things at the store. You can’t show up empty-handed, you remember that much about church events.  

Saturday comes quickly and you drive to the church. Never once have you wanted to be there as much as you do this time. You still can’t deduce if Wanda is this nice to everyone, or that she feels the energy between you two as well.

You catch sight of her telling people where to put the food and drinks they brought. She is wearing a blazer with a blouse that goes up her neck. Her glasses frame her face perfectly and she looks cute. You wonder if anyone told her that today.

“Hey Wanda,” you approach the woman. She grins and excuses herself from talking to another person.

“Well, hi! What do we have here?” Wanda asks, gesturing to your pie.

“Apple pie. My mom’s recipe. The best you’ll ever have.”

“I believe it. Thank you for sharing it with us,” Wanda says. You hand her the pie, and she sets it down carefully on the table right where she wants it to go. “Please grab a drink and we’ll get the food out in just a bit.”

“Alright. Are you in charge of this shindig?”

“Oh, I don’t know about in charge, but my Bible study group does help,” she answers.

“Ah, so she’s humble. I like that in a woman,” you dare test the waters with your statement.

Wanda’s cheeks blush a deep pink as she gets pulled away into another conversation. You end up finding some old friends that you used to know, so you spend time catching up with them and enjoying some food once it’s ready.

Wanda stays busy and you keep wishing you could find time to talk to her. She is the only reason you’re here, after all. You see a small window when Wanda slips in the church door. Following after her, you keep a respectable distance as she walks into the sanctuary. She sits in a pew and leans her head back.

You feel bad for following her, but you can’t bring yourself to leave. Instead, you purposely walk loudly into the room. Wanda hears your feet echoing but she doesn’t turn around.

“Hey, I’m sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to say goodbye before I left,” you say when you get to the pew.

Wanda stands up to face you.

“I’m attracted to you,” she admits. You try not to have a reaction to her boldness. “Would you be interested in having an affair?”

“Oh, Wanda. You’re so beautiful, but I don’t know if I could-”

Wanda cuts you off by surging forward and kissing your lips. Practically all of her body weight is against you as she deepens the kiss. Her tongue mingles with yours and she sucks on it the second she gets in the right position to do so.

“Wanda,” you whisper, breaking the kiss just enough to speak. “We can’t do this.”

“Please, baby. I’m so lonely and you’re so hot,” Wanda says. You can’t pretend the way she calls you baby with that accent gets to you.

“Just this once,” you tell her.

It’s enough for Wanda. She kisses you again and you push her blazer off of her shoulders. You unbutton her blouse as you kiss down her neck. You’re not careful about leaving marks, no one will see them with her blouse anyways.

“Keep going, darling,” Wanda pleads as you leave hickeys on her neck. Her shirt opens wide, and you grasp at her breasts. She gasps as your fingers work deftly to play with her nipples.

“Do you like that, ma’am?”

“God yes, please I need you so fucking bad.”

“Devout Wanda needs me so bad in this church,” you tease her. It turns her on further. You slip your hand into her pants and relish the slickness you feel in her folds. Kissing her again, you keep one hand slipping around in her panties.

“We don’t have time for you to tease me,” Wanda says.

“Yes ma’am,” you agree. Anyone could walk in and ruin this moment.

You slip a finger inside Wanda. With her pants still on, the pressure builds quickly, and you touch her in all of the right spots. Wanda bites your neck when you add another finger.

“Be good for me, Wanda. Come for me right here, mommy,” you say. The term makes Wanda release a guttural moan. Anyone near the area would hear it, but she doesn’t care.

Your thumb brushes over her clit and Wanda comes so hard that her body threatens to fall over. You keep her steady.

“That’s it, Wanda,” you say, kissing her as you work her through her orgasm.

“Fuck, baby,” Wanda whimpers.

You kiss her a few more times before you help her get dressed again. The blouse covers her neck and there’s no visual evidence of what you did. But the knowledge that you left marks all over her makes you smile.

“Please come back next week,” Wanda says as she fixes her hair clips.

“How about I come back tomorrow?” You counter.

“Yes please,” Wanda says. “Meet me in the choir suite?”

“I’ll see you there, ma’am.”

Wanda leaves you with one more kiss and you watch her leave the room. You glace at the cross on the podium and smile to yourself.

Wanda just might turn you into a regular churchgoer, but it’s worth it to worship her perfect body.

[0mg-bird]

Loom ~ R. Abbott x Fem! Reader

Summary: Rhett doesn’t know how long he can live with his tormenting thoughts while you live without him.

Warnings: Angst! A whole lotta angst, jealous Rhett= stupid Rhett, violence and language.

A/n: Inspired by one of my favorite Zach Bryan songs, Loom.

His jaw might fall out of its socket, the way he grinds his back teeth, back and forth, back and forth. Beer in hand, he’s watching from across the bar at the shape of you. Your Wrangler bell bottoms and little black top made you a sight for sore eyes, the way you spun around the dance floor with your friends had him in a trance.

Perry comes back to sit beside his brother, but upon seeing Rhett’s strong gaze, he follows the line of vision straight to you.

“Here we go again.” He laughs, making Rhett face him. “What are you talking about?” He asks, trying to act casual.

Perry gives him an amused glance. “I’m talking about the Tillerson girl.”

Rhett shrugs. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh please don’t do this act with me, it’s a beat horse at this point.” He says, huffing. “You ever gonna get over this little fantasy of yours?”

Rhett swallows hard, looking away. “It ain’t a fantasy, it’s ain’t anything.”

That was a lie, Rhett knew it. You were like forbidden fruit, so sweet, he was desperate to get a taste but how could he when you were you? Entirely too good for him, with a name that couldn’t be seen next to his.

He used to never consider you, not until you came back from college all grown. Now you were as sweet as honey, funny as ever, looking finer than any mountain view he’s seen. The moments you’ve shared alone, the unusual tension, the words that go unsaid, it’s things you think about often. But Rhett never made a move, and in those moments he doesn’t lift one finger to you, you can only think of the way your father and brothers ruined this love affair chance.

At some point you decide it was no use to pine for a cowboy who you pushed you away, so you were going to move on with your life.

Here you were now, dancing with a charmer. Your two step beat was fun, he was a looker too. While you two spun around, Rhett was clenching his beer bottle with a white knuckled grip.

He has this reoccurring dream sometimes, where you and him ran away and made a life of your own. He isn’t so angry, he isn’t feeling anything other than some type of emotion that makes him feel like he’s going through the floor.

It’s the thing that haunts him, it teases him to a life he does not have.

A life he’s afraid to admit he wants.

“I’ll be back.” Perry states, navigating his way to the mens room.

As Rhett is left alone, he finishes his last swig, then goes to get another beer.

That charmer you were dancing with has his hand on the small of your back as he leads you to get a drink. As you stand beside him, slightly leaning over the bar as you talk to the bartender, the man’s hand slips down your back side, playfully pinching and squeezing. You push his hand off, the action makes Rhett alert.

When the man does it again, leaning over to whisper in your ear and getting pushed off again, he steps back into Rhett.

“Hey, could you fucking watch where you’re going?” Rhett snaps, making you turn and face him. “Sorry, Rhett, he didn’t mean too.” You glare at your guy.

“You’re right, sorry.” He throws a half hearted apology to Rhett before diving to kiss your neck.

Rhett knows your awkward laugh well, the one you give when you try to be polite but are still uncomfortable. You give it to the guy you continue to push away.

It feels wrong, his hands on your body, his lips on your skin. It makes Rhett’s breath quicken.

“Hey, I think she wants you to back off.” He grabs the guys shoulder, pulling him off of you.

The man grows defensive, smacking Rhett’s hand away. “I think you should mind your own fucking business and not pay attention to what me and my woman are doing.”

You pause, taking a large step away from him. “Who said I’m yours?”

He chuckles lowly. “Oh come on baby, don’t start this teasing shit now.”

“How about you go fuck yourself.” You call back, turning back for your friends before he tugs at your arm.

Just as you’re about to gasp, Rhett is standing in front of you, gripping the man’s wrist.

“I don’t want to have to do this right here in front of everyone, but I will if you don’t get your hand off of her right now.”

The expanse of his back is shielding you, you can’t see his expression but you know it’s angry.

Your arm is dropped, deep fingerprints are left in your skin.

“I would’ve let you had a go at her after I was finished, all you had to do was ask.”

Those disgusting words fall from his lips and the next thing you know, he’s on the ground.

The ones around leap back, watching as Rhett tumbles around with this charmer you thought was great ten minutes ago.

“What the hell?” Perry shouts, pushing past bodies to pull his brother away.

The two put up a fight, but when Rhett gets pulled one direction and the man gets pulled another, it’s over.

You follow the Abbott brothers out the back door of the bar, Rhett’s still seething, spitting out a mouth full of blood. You slink back quietly, looking up at Perry.

“I’ll pull the truck around.” He tells you, making himself scarce.

“Rhett…” You’re tone comes out quieter than you imagined it would.

He looks at you with confusion and question. “Why do you do this? Why do you find the biggest assholes and hang on their arm?”

You wrap your arms around yourself, the night air colder than expected. “I don’t intentionally do it.”

Rhett scoffs, then pushes his hair out of his face. “Tell me what you want me to do.” He demands. “Put me out of my damn misery and tell me that you’d rather not think of me.”

Your brows furrow. “I don’t want to say that.”

He’s running his hands down his face, blood on his split knuckles. “Then tell me how I get this to stop. This-this back and forth, coy game we play.”

“What game?” You shout, stepping towards him.

“The one where we both know what we’re feeling but don’t do a damn thing about it!”

Maybe it’s the few drinks in your system that’s making you feel like dropping in tears. You blink them back.

“And what am I supposed to be feeling, Rhett? Stop speaking in fuckin’ riddles and just say it with your chest!”

He stomps to you. “How do I make you fall in love with me? How?” He demands, your bodies close in proximity. You stare up at him, not missing the way his chest rises and falls quickly.

“I would’ve fallen in love with you years ago if you hadn’t been so damn stoic. All this talk about our family feuds, about how you don’t bring much to the table and I need more than that…” Your voice shakes, you reach out to hit his chest with both of your hands. “You never once cared about my feelings, so why now?”

He takes the hits you give, though they didn’t really hurt like you intended them to. They hurt deep in his lungs.

“I thought I was doing right by you.” Is all he says, making the first few tears fall down your face.

“I would’ve loved you with everything I had, every fiber of me, Rhett.” Your hands are in your hair, then you take a step back.

“You would have?” He asks, and you nod. “I would…I’m just not sure about now, anymore.”

His heart aches, his fingers itch to reach out for you.

You wipe your face. “Thanks for intervening back there.” You say, then disappear back inside.

He watches the spot you just stood, and the overwhelming feeling of lost love, looms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: aghhhhhhhh this was so angsty omg. If y’all like it, lmk, maybe I should do a part two???

[itsmm4hiii]

Workshopped Romance - K. Bakugou

Synopsis: Working for a hero costume designer has its perks like; meeting heroes, playing with cool technologies, getting you're name out- Y/n didn't  really expect her own boss will try and hook her up with a customer.  Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou X Female Reader

‘You know, you shouldn’t be thanking me Mr Bakugou. I haven't done anything- my young mentor has been working your case.’ 

His costume sits in a presentable bag with her infamous two dots. His fingers are wrapped loosely around the shoelace handles as it sits on the last rung of his finger tips. While he’s shocked about the news it doesn’t faze his exterior outlook. His eyes dart past  Nimaru Sasori, towards you as obvious exhilarating cherry red eyes set bare themselves deep into your flesh. 

Other fabrics pool in your arms, tediously heavy and beginning to drain what little muscles in your arms you had. You’re stopped, on a diagonal plain to him after hearing your mentor's words. Her hands dramatically waved to your presence. 

‘You should really discuss further advancements to her, not me, she’s a super star in this world- she’ll definitely surpass me!’ Her voice is whimsical, matches the triumphant emotions Midnight places into the string of her sentences, yet causes your face to go red as you wave over. 

You bow to him though he simply doesn’t acknowledge any power imbalance in the relationship between him and you. You were both the same age so respect was not necessary or demanded from either of you. She shares an excited look before running off from the chaos she started. 

‘Mr Bakugou it's a pleas-’ ‘No need for formalities, I haven’t done anything to deserve it as of yet.’ he cuts you off, ‘Uhm- Bakugou then. It’s a real pleasure working for you. Your comfort and aid for your quirk are my highest priority, I hope you do find it to your liking based on the information you’ve given us.’

Your eyes stare to the left, unable to make contact as your cheeks sear with redness. He makes no attempt to stare at anything else other than you. Your fingers fidget with the raw edge of the fabric trying to calm yourself down from an obvious explosion. 

‘Tell him what you’re thinking about his costume y/n! Tell him!’ Sasori interrupts, 

She acts as a living icebreaker if there was ever one. While it’s comforting that she breaks in every now and again this situation arose because of her.  She sits on a stool in the background watching the two of you as if it's some day romance drama where everyone already knows the ending but are still shocked when it happens and you have to wait till next week to find out what happens. Always leaving you on a cliffhanger. 

‘Uhm- well we are moving into the colder months now and since your quirk works on your sweat I recommend we move towards a costume with blast proof thermal wear, and perhaps a heat fabric that allows your arms to sweat but keeps the rest of your body at a manageable temperature.’ Your thoughts spewed out and by the time you had finished you released you had made the decision for him, your eyes snapped up to him flustered, ‘I’m sorry! It’s up to you it’s just a suggestion- If you don’t want it is fine it’s not like a big deal and I know it sounds like it will affect your overall quirk amount it probably might just decrease if by a few numbers and I just really don’t know the specifics of your quirk just the bare minimum and now i’m insulting you and I can’t stop tal-’ 

‘It’s fine…’ he grumbles, his hands placed into the pockets of his sweatpants, ‘If you think it’s important then do it.’ he sighs once more and his eyes drop to the floor in a nervous manner, ‘If it helps you, you can come to UA to watch me on Wednesday to better the knowledge you have on me-’ ‘IT’S A DATE!’ 

Interrupted by Sasori who cheers around you too, he just shakes it off and begins to head towards the door. 

‘Thanks Bakugou, I’ll see you Wednesday.’ 

With that he leaves with a soft nod and your attention and pent up aggression turns to your mentor. She giggles to herself and before you can shout out to her in what thought she got the idea to say it was a date she speaks. 

‘Aww the way he was staring at you… love at first sight at its finest’ 

Her hands clasp together, as she begins to sway reminiscing on moments she thought was love but it was rather a miscellaneous number of one night stands. Your shoulder hits as you walk past embarrassed and angered. Your head turns around arms sluggish as they’re filled with fabric. Perhaps she was true but you didn’t want to be delusional about something if it never was there in the first place. 

‘Get back to work.’ you grumbled.