#I love how you added their hair to the fluff

[fanaticsnail]

hi sis can you write me a sanji fic pleaseeeeeee

One hurt/comfort Sanji fic here for you, Smol-Snail.

Limits

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 2,500+

Synopsis: Baratie has been overbooked, and the tension in the kitchen has been overwhelming. Being a hard-working kitchen hand, you have been covering far too many shifts. Sensing the overwhelm, your coworker attempts to aid you through your emotions.

Themes: Sanji x gn!reader, hurt/comfort, kitchen slang, eating food, minor swearing, fluff, angst, domesticity, hidden feelings, almost kisses, playful banter, nicknames.

Notes: Spoiling my sister usually includes Mihawk or Garp, but I am absolutely loving the change. Thanks for the ask, sis! Hope you like it. Also, gosh it's good to be back in Baratie again.

The crackle of water hitting a pan of hot oil popped and simmered, a string of curses and yells following the large rukkus. Voices overlapping, music blaring, orders expediting, and the clangs of silverware shuddering with ceramics in water continued to mute their tones in the air surrounding the lively kitchen of Baratie.

It had been a mean shift tonight. The restaurant was overbooked, over packed, and overwhelmed. Guests on the waiting list were made to wait longer than they had anticipated, adding to tempers flaring and temperaments turning foul on all sides. The front of house were begging with the back of house, the back of house pleading with the front of house. Chef Zeff had even jumped on the line, cooking alongside the lot of you to fight against the rush. The thump of his peg leg hitting the linoleum swelled within the serenade of the lively kitchen, the chorus finally rising without any indication of an interlude.

“Carne, 'hot behind', damn it!” Zeff growled angrily while standing to full stature. Carne was holding a tray of simmering desserts at chest height behind him while shifting from one surface to the other. “Communicate, kitchen. Ya’ hear?”

“Oui chef!” The kitchen all repeated the phrase like a prayer on their tongues to their hierarchical clergyman.

“Ca Marche-!”

“Sharps-!”

“Plate up-!”

“Push-!”

“To the pass-!”

“Through-!”

Sanji stalked through the rows up until the pass, pacing two and fro while jumping in to aid all those that needed support. Garnishing mains, whipping cream for desserts, assorting steel bowls of oils and accompaniments to coincide with breads and greens: Sanji did it all. Each time he stepped in to aid in the dance of the kitchen, his eyes fell to your frame to mentally check in.

Eyes down, shoulders hunched, rubber gloves thrust up to your elbows, you ensured the kitchen remained functional with the fluctuation of crockery, cutlery and dishes for truly impeccable service. The kitchen-hand, or 'Dish Pig', was the backbone to a functional restaurant, the mental wellbeing of the house truly on the shoulders of that individual.

How could a chef create masterpieces without a canvas? How could guests in the dining hall consume their delectable arrangements without the means to raise each bite to their lips? The kitchen-hand ensured all was possible, and the chefs barely paid you any heed while you slaved away to grant them relief in their supplies.

You attempted to hone in on your craft, using your fingernails beneath the rubber gloves to chip at caramelized and caked scorches on iron pots like a scourer. Breaths heavy and labored, you shifted everything from your focus asside from one thing and one thing only:

Keep the kitchen clean.

Bubbles and suds consumed your senses, your hair sticking to your forehead in heavy clumps of sweat and soap. Your nostrils flared with the burn of eucalyptus, lemon and menthol. Working a fortnight of splits and doubles to cover for your colleagues had finally taken its toll on you, and stressors in your personal life added to the tension in your bones. The loss on your own mentality began to slip into a panic as another wave of silverware made their way to your arm side.

The mention of, “‘Ere ye’ go, dish pig. Clean up,” barely phased you, regardless to the usual playful temperament you displayed. You didn't even crack the smile you usually had on your face, your permanent exhaustion falling in the emotionless and dead-stare you displayed down at the dish rack.

The kitchen has began to pack down. Each element was extinguished, and stock was taken alongside a final tally. The chefs had removed their aprons, cravats and hats and began making their way towards the bar for their knockoffs. Your own drink would have to wait, the pile never reducing no matter how hard you had worked.

For each plate you cleared and cleaned, four more would somehow find their way to your hands. Each pot would have a lid to match, each pan would have an array of spatula, tongs, and forks to pair with. The chefs used the tools of their artistry with reckless abandon, and it was now you who was paying the price for their carelessness.

“A'ight, beers? That what we're drinkin'?” Patty clapped his hands and rubbed them enthusiastically together. Carne barked out a long string of laughter, allowing himself to succumb to the relief that came from a grueling shift while he clapped his hand over Patty’s bicep.

“I'm keen on one of them steins we just got in,” he admitted, squeezing lightly before looking to Zeff, “Is that on the menu for knock offs, chef?”

“Only is if you save two for me, you prick,” Zeff stated affectionately, “Give us a pale or an amber, I'll be in my office takin’ a damn breath. What about you, little eggplant? What are you drinkin’ tonight?”

Sanji hadn't spoken a word since he hung up his apron. He had been keeping an eye on you throughout your shift, feeling the tension waft in your aura the longer you silently chipped away at your monotonous task.

“I'm gonna have a cigarette,” he nodded to the head chef without moving his eyes away from you. “Then I think I'll sample that new amaretto rum you got in.” Sanji moved to Zeff’s side, casually glancing back at you while lowering his tone to the head chef, “But first, I'm gonna stay here a while. Leave inventory to me, and I'll take care of it, old man.”

Zeff noticed the drop in Sanji’s usual cadence and finally took notice to the quiver in your shoulders. With a curt nod, Zeff turned to both Patty and Carne and spoke to them with a simple scowl that meant: ‘Get out of the kitchen, now’. The two chefs quickly looked between Zeff and Sanji, then to the source of the noise continuing to fall from the underappreciated corner of the kitchen. With a nod of their own, they silently excused themselves from the kitchen with Zeff trailing behind them.

Where Sanji would've placed an unlit cigarette between his teeth and stalked out behind them, he would never do that without you. Both of you were similar in ages, and the rapport and camaraderie had always been a highlight to his kitchen shifts. The two of you were more than coworkers, more than simple friends, and you both lived and breathed Baratie in your own ways. You both loved that place, thrived on the chaotic energy working the line, and adored spending time in the dark before the next shift would begin.

The only difference between you is Sanji had been working his usual shifts, and you had been overworked far beyond your natural capacity lately. You were running low on mental energy, and you were taking it out on the dishes you were cleaning.

Wiping, scrubbing, clawing, patting, drying, prying, stacking, and placing away in their delegated areas: you had not spoken a word for the whole shift. Nothing more than a soft, shaky breath expelling from an otherwise vacant expression, nobody would know if anything was occurring within the battle of your mind.

But Sanji did.

Unhooking his apron and rolling up the sleeves of his uniform jacket, he placed it over his neck and slowly moved over to work silently in an unoccupied station. Several containers of various raw ingredients were hastily removed from their spots. Pots, water, flours, sugars, utensils and plates were all set up by his skilled hands: making something of your youth that he knew would bring you comfort.

Rolling glutinous rice flour into small balls with regular flour and water, he stuffed them full of purple adzuki mix, hazelnut white chocolate, and yuzu-honey dew custard. Placing the small balls in a steamer, he set a mental timer to check on them after a few minutes. Not his usual method to make dango, but he wanted to experiment for you.

He knew better than to disturb you when you were like this, and he allowed you to work out whatever was brewing in your mind on the dishes you were cleaning. He looked to the bowls and dishes he had just made in crafting you something delectable and grimaced.

‘All of those dishes just to make a simple dessert,’ he mentally scolded himself, ‘And that's just one piece of the kitchen. You're taking care of everyone’s dishes here, not just the kitchen’s.’ He gently lifted the lid of the bamboo steamer to gauge the consistency of the circular treats, nodding to himself once he viewed the squishy exterior.

Plating up the dish by patting them dry and rolling them in rice flour, he softly approached you with the bowl of rainbow-colored treats.

You were in your own head, your thoughts swirling in a tight coil threatening to snap. This shift had been enough to break a seasoned kitchen hand, and you had endured it all with a silent professionalism. Just when you were about to begin the next wave of remaining dishes, you turned and met your eyes with a plate of rainbow and sunshine.

“Hands, chef. You need to eat something,” Sanji softly spoke, his usual smirk and cocky attitude fleeing his face. The replacement of his usual demeanor was something you hadn't experienced with him. His eyes were rounded, his lips softly pouring, his head was lowered and seeking out your gaze with his own, and his empathy was worn with each subtlety.

All in one fluid motion, your head hung low and your glove-covered hands shrouded your eyes from his gaze. At the same motion, Sanji placed the bowl down beside you and hastily drew you into an encumbering embrace. It had finally been too much for you, and this was the first breakdown you had ever had regarding a shift. Heavy sobs were muffled by your rubber-covered palms while Sanji cradled you in his arms.

“Hold onto me, love,” Sanji softly whispered into your ear. You immediately unburied your face within your palms and nuzzled into the blonde man’s neck, arms wrapping beneath his shoulders and clinging to him like a rope offered from a cliff’s edge. “There you go. Good job. Just hold on, okay?”

“S-Sanji?” you attempted to whimper out, only being met with a soft shush and a tighter hold on your form. He rose one arm up to remove your dark chef’s cap from your head and carded his hands over your scalp in a soft brush.

“You've been pushing too many doubles, and saying ‘yes’ a whole lot lately,” he gently soothed you, “And while I love this place as much as you and the old man, I know my limits.” He gently lifted his head to gaze down to where your head was nestled in his collar, “You just hit yours, didn't you?”

“First time since I started,” you whispered into his shirt, “I didn't think I had one ‘til now, Ji.” Your admission alongside his arms holding you firmly dried up your tears after the heavy release.

“Course you do. We all do,” his soft baritone gently coaxed you. You slowly raised your eyes to meet his. His smile was like sunshine after a storm, warmth following a heavy winter, hope where hopelessness was found mere minutes prior, and a sanctuary found after a season of war.

When he looked at you, you felt like the most important person in the world. Time stood still in that moment, eyes darting between one another's and gently focussing briefly on the other’s lips. The close proximity you found yourself in was not unfamiliar to you, but this emotion swelling was far greater than you had anticipated. Sanji made to lean towards you, halting mid-way and second guessing himself from giving you the kiss he truly wanted. Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours in a gentle seal of friendship.

Noses flush with one another’s, you both closed your eyes and dwelled in the silence for a moment. Nothing else was heard: no yells in the kitchen, no music from the dining room, no yells from your coworkers, and no demands from the patrons in the hall. All that was heard was the small thump of your heartbeat in your ears, and your shared breaths gently soothing one another in unison.

“I made you dango,” Sanji uttered softly, making no move to part from you.

“Thank you, Ji,” you expressed your gratitude just as softly.

“And while you eat, I'll finish up on the dishes,” he scrunched his nose playfully, moving away from your head and slowly releasing you from his embrace, “Then we can go and have a knock off. I'll have one of the bar staff take your shift tomorrow- And before you interrupt-!”

Sanji knew you all too well, halting your interjection before you had an opportunity to speak it out with a harsh expression.

“-I know it's a 'double split'. That's a four person job, and I know exactly the four people to do it,” he finally withdrew his arms from your shoulders and soothed your upper arms with a firm caress. “Now, hand over those gloves. I made a right mess cooking you your sweets, and I'm going to see to it that it's spotless while you eat.”

You slowly removed your arms from his body, halting them briefly on his hips while you bowed your head in gratitude.

“Oui, chef,” you huffed out in a bid to add humor to the scenario. Releasing him from your grasp, you began to remove your rubber gloves and hang them over the steel railing beside the sink.

Sanji slid his hands from your shoulders, his right hand moving to gently tap your chin up with his index finger. Following his motions, you met your eyes with his once more, offering him a small smile after the exhaustion of emotional release.

“‘Oui Chef’?” he gently teased you, his eyes playfully narrowing in his jest, “Hush, you. Now go eat your dango and tell me what you like about it. We got sweet red bean, white chocolate hazelnut, and citrus-melon mouse in the centers.”

Your eyes bloomed with a wave of gratitude, Sanji’s understanding washing from his aura and consuming you within his single glance. The only thing to break your joint hypnosis with the scent of the sweetness atop the bench, you bobbed your head a final time to your coworker and dearest friend.

You moved to sit by the sink on a wooden stool, plonking down and resting your worn feet with the plate sat in your lap. Head slumping on the steel bench, you close your eyes and raise one of the squishy spheres to your lips.

Placing the entire blob into your mouth, the center burst on impact of the clamp of your teeth. The flavors erupted over your palate, your emotions once again being forced to the surface at his thoughtfulness. Each tartness was compensated by the sweetness it needed, the sours holding a balance of soft umami to prolong the dance over your tongue.

Watching from the corner of his eye while elbows deep in the sink, Sanji smiled at the encounter, truly pleased that he could offer you that sense of comfort after a grueling few weeks. Each bite you took of his mastery had his heart swell. Knowing he could do this for you, take a piece of that burden away from you and give you some joy to focus on: that was all he ever craved in return from you.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory

[min-imum]

FLUFFY GYU SMUT !!!!

nsfw, mdni

content warnings: gn!reader, this is actually so fluffy because i love domesticity and i’m a sucker for domestic fluff but also mingyu is too hot so i ended up being a smut account but but but TIYA I MEANT AN ASK WITH CONTENT 😞😞😞😞 it’s okay this means i can write WHATEVER I WANT!!!!!!!! DOMESTIC MINGYU!!!!!!!, super soft sex, super sweet mingyu, AUGH its vanilla and it’s cute, also i literally added tags to this in advance because my dumbass completely forgot to add tags in my previous post and i was like hmm it’s a suspiciously low number of notes for the amount of time this has been up OHHHHHHH no tags., second time i’ve had to rewrite a fic because tumblr said nope sorry we cant save this AND THEN IT JUST DIDNT SAVE EVEN THOUGH I ALREADY SAVED THE DRAFT EARLIER AND I WAS JUST ADDING ON :( im being so fr the first draft was SO much better on god and it was longer too but i forgot what i wrote rAAA

mingyu — your sweet, darling boyfriend. you love him with all your heart and you know he loves you too.

he shows you just how much he loves you all the time. you know he loves you when he crawls up at dawn to make you breakfast. you know he loves you when he crouches to tie your shoelaces for you. you know he loves you when he sends you sweet texts throughout the day, and when he purchases souvenirs from all his travels for you, and when he wraps his big arms around you on a bad day to cushion you and comfort you.

you know he loves you when he makes love to you like this, slow and sweet and filled with emotion.

he kisses you slowly, languidly, and you moan into his mouth as his cock presses into you inch by inch. when he pulls back to look at you, his eyes are filled with adoration. it makes your heart squeeze in your chest.

when you finally take him to the hilt, he pauses, litters kisses over your face and neck, presses his lips to your jaw, bites gently at your earlobe, and waits ever so patiently for you to get used to his size inside you.

“you can move, gyu,” you whisper. he kisses you once more as his hips start to move, grunts falling from his lips with each thrust. he leans his forehead against yours tenderly and bumps your noses together affectionately.

his hands roam your body, squeezing gently and feeling you up. he revels in every moan and whine that escapes from your lips. he nuzzles against your cheek sweetly.

as much as you like the rougher, meaner sex you have with him, this sweet love-making is your favourite. he never fails to remind you how much he loves you and how special you are to him.

he presses his nose into your hair and breathes in your scent.

“did you use my shampoo, baby?”

“mhm,” you smile sheepishly. “sorry.”

“don’t apologise. i like it when you smell like me.” he giggles, expression absolutely lovesick. you blush, shy and contented.

“i like smelling like you too.”

he has the sweetest smile on his face, eyes glittery and lips curled, as he fucks you with all the love in the world. he loves making you feel good, he loves taking care of you. he loves you.

soon, you’re cumming over his cock with a long whine, and he fucks you through it. he always makes sure you cum first. and then he follows quickly, rolling his hips into you one last time and emptying himself into you.

finally, he rolls the two of you over so you’re lying on his chest, his cock still buried inside you.

“hi,” you giggle.

“you’re so cute,” mingyu coos. “my adorable baby. i love you so much.”

you smile, eyes bright with happiness and satisfaction. “i love you too.”

“let’s get up soon, okay? i have to clean you up and change the sheets,” he murmurs.

as always, your sweet boyfriend never fails to take care of you and show you how much he loves you.

“okay,” you hum. “five more minutes?”

he strokes your back affectionately and presses a tender kiss to your head. “five more minutes.”

[cherryredstars]

Hobie is very possessive and protective (especially hiding his relationship with her from other spidies to make sure she stays protected) around Ballerina!Reader (who is his biggest supporter since she was the only person that understands the meaning of his songs) especially since she has a tendency to go age regression when she's super stressed or very insecure about herself and it certainly didn't help about Gwen's (visiting Hobie's dimension) passive aggressiveness towards her every time she sees reader to the point Hobie is being petty towards Gwen and being extra affectionate towards reader and praising and murmuring sweet nothings to her to get his point across Gwen that Reader and him are dating?

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem!reader

Warnings: Gwen is a bitch, SFW, Fluff

A/N: Been a while since I wrote Hobie, so sorry if this doesn’t match how I usually depict him.

Unedited

You’re confused when you tune back in.

You weren’t surprised- or happy- to find Gwen still lounging in Hobie’s flat when you had returned from practice. You were once sympathetic to her situation, glad your lovely boyfriend was kind enough to let her crash at his place, but that quickly disappeared with her treatment. At the worst times, she made you feel like the guest who overstayed her welcome. Whispered remarks when you crossed paths or scrutinizing looks thrown your way when she thought you weren’t looking.

Hobie, of course, doesn’t stand it at all. Coming to your rescue if he happens to catch her in the act. But he’s busy most times, and you feel bad adding to his long list of worries and injustices he needs to correct. But, tonight is one of the rare nights that Hobie decides he’s been too consistent in his schedule and needs a sporadic day just relaxing at home.

He had instantly pulled you into his lap, roughed pads of his fingers playing with the loose fabric of your skirt that hangs around your leotard. You had thought Gwen was being nice for once as she began talking about her own experiences with dance, only to quickly realize it was a hidden competition. You had zoned out some time through her long ramble of achievements and experiences, focusing on the wall behind her and daydreaming about something sweet to feast on after dinner.

You only realized you zoned out when Hobie’s familiar accent swirls in your ears. You turn to look at him, realizing he’s stopped playing with your skirt. He squeezes your thigh lightly, bringing you back to attention.

“Hm?” You hum quietly, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Bet y’a better dancer.” Hobie repeats into your ears, warm breath actually taking shape into processed words.

Your cheeks flare and you smile bashfully, leaning further into him and turning back to Gwen. She eyes you suspiciously, eyes narrowed.

“What are you smiling and whispering about?”

You quickly drop your grin, acting like a child with their hand half way in the cookie jar. “Oh… no I wasn’t-”

“Told ‘er she’s a better dancer than you.” Hobie says, interrupting you.

You turn to Hobie, mouth slightly agape at his blunt words. He’s usually one to speak his mind, but every now and then it catches you off guard. You turn to Gwen quickly, trying to amend for your boyfriend’s words when she snorts.

She leans back in her chair, tucking the long pieces of her hair behind her ear and out of her face. She rolls her eyes, clearly unamused and quickly discarding Hobie’s statement.

“Whatever.” She drawls, huffing. “Oh, I wanted to tell you I’m gonna probably dip before you get back tomorrow. Gonna crash on Peter’s couch or something.”

You can’t help the small bubbles of excitement brewing in your chest at her statement, instead faking a sudden tiredness as you hide your face in Hobie’s neck to conceal your smile.”

“Cool.” Hobie replies uninterested, rubbing his hand up and down your back, the cool metal of his rings rolling against your elastic uniform. “Tell May-Day I say ‘ello.”

Gwen hums in agreement, and Hobie effortlessly lifts you up as he stands. Your arms tighten around his midsection as his hands support you.

“Gonna crash for the night.” Hobie says dismissively, already walking away to his room.

You smile wider against his skin, sighing happily. He can feel the relief that Gwen will be gone soon relaxing your body, and he chuckles as he kisses the top of your head.

“Me too, love. Me too.”

[joontroverted]

siren sweet, swim with me

pairing : nanami kento x reader

fandom : jujutsu kaisen

tags : pop idol reader, cfo nanami, fluff, angst, smut (later on), more tags to be added as the fic progresses

status : ongoing

summary :

after all, computers crash, people die, relationships fall apart. the best we can do is breathe and -

carrie bradshaw did not know what the fuck she was talking about. because when your international sensation girl group STARDUST collapses in on itself, everything you've ever known is hanging on by a thread.

disgruntled and exhausted, nanami kento, cfo, knows everything there is to know about his life. the books, the cash flow- the world he had built for himself made sense. until now. as the irrational nagging sense of uncertainty leads to a random moment of circumstance, the two of your lives are entangled.

ie. it's entirely up to you as to whether you'll shine in the spotlight, or explode and fade into obscurity like a supernova. it's also up to you as to whether you want to fall for the disgustingly handsome office worker.

author's note : first nanami long fic! can you tell i'm scared? anyways, this is an idea i've hadd since summer. summer! i'm glad i've gotten started finally 🥲 this is just the first chapter so it's just the set up. hope you have fun!

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

index -

chapter 1 (ao3)

yuki's staring at you in a way that makes you want to reach across the table and swing your fist across her face.

you would've, if yuki wasn't very very important to you, and wasn't still built like a wrestler.

“it's fine,” you mutter. “i'm fine,” you repeat, more clearly this time. your phone buzzes in your bag.

yuki blinks, breaking herself out of her dead stare for a moment. “you're not, but that's fine. no one would be, at the moment, and that's all right!”

pushing her chair back, she gets up and makes her way to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. her blonde bangs tickle your face as she leans in closer, and her ginormous tits cover your arm from both sides as if hugging you to comfort you. if your mind wasn't running a million miles an hour and constantly hitting dead ends, you'd probably feel a little more comforted and a little less... crushed.

she waves a hand in front of you, as if gesturing to a marvellous new life. “we just need some time to rebrand you! some new girls, a fresh new concept, dye your hair some color we haven't done before and you're ready to hit the stage again!”

your eyes widen at that. “no.”

yuki straightens. “what do you mean, no?”

“i'm not joining a new group!”

“well you wouldn't be joining a group, you'd be the centre of a new group. the new group would be formed for you!”

“well i don't want that. i wanna be a solo artist now.”

there. you've said it. you've put the dreaded words out there, and now it's real. and judging by the way yuki's face falls, it's a reality that's not gonna come to fruition smoothly.

she straightens, her warmth leaving you. “oh.”

you bite your lip and look into her eyes. “just say it. tell me how terrible of an idea you think it is.”

“it's a terrible idea.”

she can probably see how your face falls, because yuki does something that yuki rarely does. she backtracks.

“or, what about a hiatus? you can go on a vacation! you can make a whole trip out of it, show how travel has healed you, you could even attend a few events with some international artists, and that could bring in a whole new crowd, huh?”

you put your face in your hands and shake your head, as you feel your phone buzzing away in your bag again. “yumi's already done the healing journey thing, and it's actually authentic to her.”

“yumi was never cut out for this life, don't compare yourself to her,” says yuki, her tone sharp. “of course she'd love frolicking in fields,” she grumbles.

you grin, despite her words. “yumi's doing great, by the way.”

“i know,” says yuki, folding her arms, “we've been in touch. you're attending the lauch party aren't you?”

“launch gathering,” you correct. “she's living a simple life now.”

“she can die."

“yuki!” you giggle.

“it's not the fact that she left -you know i'm all about ethical work, it's why i made a whole agency- it's that she did it so suddenly! we had had so many discussions where she swore up and down on her own volition that she'd renew the contract and all it took was a week for her to tear down this... this empire that we've built!”

“she's a simple girl.”

“a real simple person would know that they want a simple life from the beginning. which so called simple person auditions five times and then trains for years and then debuts to become the biggest girl group of the generation? and then just dips?”

“she just needed a taste of the high life to know what she really needed. like buddha.”

“people live and die for this life. people live and die for what she has. had,” she grumbles, “and what about all that talent? is she truly going to be satisfied doing the dishes in her little down to earth cafe?”

“she was more than content doing the dishes back when we were poor. she'll hardly be doing the dishes in her cafe, she's a milliona-”

“a simple millionaire.” you both say at the same time, and then burst into laughter.

“we are getting wildly off topic,” says yuki, after a beat.

you stare at your shoes. “i know.”

“any chance you're gonna wanna take back what you just said?” she asks, looking slightly like she pities you.

“no,” you reply, feeling and looking a lot more pitiful.

she sighs and takes the chair next to you. the two of you are silent for a moment, and that gives you some time to take in her office. when yuki had begun as a manager no one took her seriously. no matter how successful and glamourous her career as a wrestler was, she was still a newbie in the entertainment industry and had neither weight nor connections to her name. she used what little connections she had and started off as an assisstant in one of the entertainment giants and worked her way up to manager. what she lacked in her network, she made up for greatly with her charisma and eagerness to learn about the industry. and then she met you.

her golden duck that lay gold eggs, is what she called you.

you were sure you were just an ugly duckling that blossomed into a swan under her care, but whatever.

she got sick and tired of being controlled by people who barely cared for the craft and cared even lesser about humans they managed, so she broke off from the company to start her own. and through a leap of faith, you followed her.

and the rest is history.

her last championship's belt that sits right above her chair glints at you, pink and white, sparkling away in the sunlight. the office is so yuki. gaudy, but neat and professional. rhinestone embedded decor sits on shelves, reminiscent of the 2000s with the nice fur carpet and the literal disco ball that hangs from the ceiling. framed pictures of all the other groups and artists under Star City Entertainment decorate the walls, but your group is the highlight, with multiple pictures, much bigger than the others.

STARDUST, the group that made the company sky rocket.

yuki wheels the chair around to face you.

“why?”

“it just seems... correct.”

she purses her lips together. “i'd rather you not make me say it, but it's my duty as your manager to be frank with you. you don't really have what it takes to be a solo artist.”

“well, we can work on that, there are so many- ”

she holds a hand up. “especially after being a part of such a prominent group for so long. the general public love you but the fans already know that you neither write nor make the music. being involved in the behind the scenes is way more important to fans than before and it defines an artist a lot more these days. it gives them cause and meaning, some attachment to the craft that they're selling themselves with. you had yumi and seika to distract the fans from that before, but now it's just you. how long can you hold on to star power? and how far will that alone take you?”

the best thing about yuki is that she's brutally honest and always looks out for you. the worst thing about yuki is that she's brutally honest and always looks out for you.

it's as if her words have opened a chest of secrets that you had locked and chained deep inside you. your flaws were not flaws when you were in the group. they were just... things that you didn't need to do.

seika was good at producing and song writing, tasks that she was more than happy to have her hand in. yumi was musically talented beyond words. to date there hadn't been an instrument that she didn't excel in, and her voice seemingly knew no bounds, considering she had professional training to be an opera singer before this.

and you did everything else.

main dancer, the looks, the socializing, the personality... the star power, was all yours. if there was one thing that you had, it was what it took to be the it girl of the group, of the generation, and that combination of skills among the three propelled STARDUST and subsequently, Star City Entertainment to massive success that only grew as the years passed.

it was an open secret that this was the division among all of you. but everyone was okay with that. everyone was happy to perform their role, do what they excelled at and what was expected out of them. you all dabbled in each other's work, as you naturally would after these many years together, but the recipe to your success was the three of you, exactly as you were. and now it's just you. without them, there's nothing for you to stand on. there's nothing to add your special touch, your sparkle on to.

anyone could tell that.

the reality of the situation grips you like an ice cold fist and the hollowness that you felt ever since the decision was made public expands like a vast cavern beneath your feet. you are all out of tears, but your face still threatens to scrunch up with dry sobs as your lip wobbles.

“why don't you want to be a part of a group?” asks yuki.

“as if what we had can be replicated,” you mutter. “i really don't have it in me to start afresh with new girls who would definitely be younger than me and definitely have some buried animosity for me right from the beginning. oh, and the people. they already scrutinize us from the ends of our hair to the nails of our toes, i can already hear all the people talking about how i peaked with STARDUST and it's not gonna happen again. and what about GALAXY? they're not gonna take me being in another group lightly! i wouldn't even be ble to call them GALAXY anymore!”

“we don't necessarily have to have a three member group. maybe a five member group this time? that would lessen the direct focus on you and give the four other girls a chance to shine!”

“or it could give four other girls a chance to hate me more for stealing their spotlight if we do well, or for being dead weight if we don't.”

“we could scout some girls from other big groups that just disbanded! that girl from CROWN seems to be popular and jobless at the moment. what about her?”

“i just don't see it! don't you think the public knows that we'd just be trying to recreate STARDUST? also neither yumi nor seika are continuing in a group because both of them know that it was a one time thing. it's the exact same chemistry, or nothing! it'd be such a mess.”

“and even that is a safer option than you as a soloist.”

“wow,” you breathe, laughing, leaning back. “wow.”

“i never mean to hurt you.”

“wouldn't it be so funny if i went home and committed suicide after all this? then we wouldn't have to worry about what i'm gonna do next. my name will be remembered forever, i'm gonna go out with a bang- literally!”

“okay!” says yuki, throwing her hands up. "you're going on a hiatus! go on a vacation! find a new hobby, do whatever you want, i don't care- " she narrows her eyes and points a sharp finger at you, "and no, you cannot commit suicide!"

"geez, can't a girl joke?" you roll your eyes. "and i don't think it'd be wise for me to go on hiatus right now. i'd lose momentum and i'd lose my mind."

"finally, you're saying things that make sense. we haven't yet released any news of this, so you're safe. the public still thinks that STARDUST is on hiatus after the last tour so we have time. GALAXY has, however noticed that there's a lack of posts on seika's twitter and instagram, which we will be dealing with. you and yumi have been posting regularly and innocently enough, which is good. all in all, you'll be fine! the tour was enormous, so it would definitely make sense that you guys are on the dl now doing your own thing..."

she goes on about how doing nothing is okay, and your mind wanders to how it all began.

yumi had been sobbing almost every day ever since the last concert in the last venue. it had all started from there. she couldn't keep up with being an idol, and you couldn't blame her. yumi was never really the type. she was from an upper middle class family, and a musical genius. a sweet girl, who started off with posting covers on youtube and then began to look into joining a group, because she too knew that a group helps make up for what she lacked, which was everything else. and now, richer and more than satisfied with the taste she got of the idol life, she said she'd be happier in the food industry and going back to posting covers as and when she felt like it.

yumi's waning passion had set off seika too, frustratingly enough. seika was the opposite of yumi. she had joined the company as a producing intern which somehow led to her becoming a trainee, and when she always seemed to get the sound and the music for the concepts just right and picked up dance quick enough, there she was. she took it all in stride because everything seemed to work out just well, but even she knew that yumi leaving would finally give her an opportunity to come back to her origins and true passion.

your lip wobbles again, and you tune back to yuki just in time to hear her listing out things that you could do during hiatus.

" -of them are so fucking stupid, but i'm sure we can find someone sexy. a fun fling with an actor, how 'bout that? when was the last time you had a cute little scandal, huh? or you could study something, oh! you could do some volunteer work with animals, you used to be a horse girl, right? i think we could really- “

the door slams open, and the two of you jump at the sound. utahime iori stands at the doorway, mouth screwed up.

“are you incapable of picking up your phone?”

“hime!” you say, surprised.

“and what are you doing here?” asks yuki.

utahime ignores her. instead she makes her way to you, throwing her arms around you in a hug. she pulls back and looks into your eyes. “you're gonna be okay. so what if STARDUST disbands? you'll be the main girl of a new group!”

“see, even she thinks it'll be a great idea to be in a new group.”

“i wanna be a soloist,” you say dully staring at utahime's chest which is in eye level.

“exactly, and you're gonna be the greatest soloist ever!”

“oh please, not this again, i just talked her out of it!” yuki groans. “and how did you know about this? did you tell her?”

“no she didn't, have some faith in her. i put two and two together. seika's been more or less sleeping over in the studio with all the free time, yumi's gallivanting around the world, happier than ever and this one's been completely MIA other than the mandatory appearances at events. if they were gearing up for another comeback they would've been discussing concepts by now. also, i find it really insulting that you didn't tell me, ya know?” she concludes, looking down to you.

utahime iori, former trainee, part time choreographer/back up dancer but full time makeup artist to STARDUST. also, your closest friend. it's kinda sad that all your friends are more or less your co workers. yumi and seika, yuki and hime. now everyone's camaraderie is to test considering you're not really working together anymore. suddenly you realize that you don't even have a job anymore.

“she's doing her job. i'm doing my job. and what exactly are you doing?” asks yuki, now standing up.

“i'm doing my job!” says utahime.

yuki cocks her eyebrow.

“my jooob,” she falters, looking away for a second, “of being her best friend. yeah. someone needs to look out for her and care for her, as a person- ”

“and that's what you do, looking out for and taking care of people, huh?”

oh for fuck's sake. you're sitting between the two women who are standing over you, and in any other moment, you would've enjoyed being seated between two gorgeous arguing women, who most definitely need to fuck each other instead. you and utahime had been friends ever since she was a trainee in Star City, but yuki and utahime only really met when she was assigned as one of the official makeup artists for the group. nearly everyone had been victim of their terrible... flirtationship, as seika called it.

these fools are not flirting. not on purpose at least. they've been so enamoured and amazed by each other's existence that they just have to do something about it but that sinething never meant dating or kissing or fucking, it meant quarreling and irritating everyone till the end of time. they can't seem to fathom the idea of dating each other, or at least utahime can't. you do believe that yuki is warming up to the idea of it considering there's been less push from her side and more of her allowing utahime to speak over her. as much as one can speak over yuki that is.

“are you guys done flirting,” you say flatly, eyes closed.

“we're not flirting!” they both declare.

“good, because i wanna leave.”

“oh?” says utahime. you open your eyes and you see her glance towards yuki for half a second before determinedly looking back at you and nodding. “yes! let's go! we're leaving!”

it's sweet that she stands by you although she would definitely like to f̶l̶i̶r̶t̶ argue with yuki more.

“let's go!” she loops her arm around yours and pulls you up. you turn around to look at a slightly disappointed yuki.

“bye yu,” you mutter, giving her a half hearted hug.

she in turn wraps her arms around you and squeezes tight, almost lifting you off of the ground. “don't worry kiddo! it'll all work out. just... hang in there, okay? think about what i said!" she finishes, looking kind of awkward.

kiddo. she's really feeling terrible.

you feel bad, but not really. you're glad you managed to upset her this much, considering how she and well, everyone, had no qualms in upsetting you.

except utahime, that is.

you nod and give in to utahime's tugging and follow her.

"do you want me to stick my tongue out at her? or pull a face? i can pull really ugly faces, you know, right?" she whispers to you.

"have at it!" you snort, exiting the room as you watch utahime turn and pull a face at yuki which is quite the feat, considering how pretty she is.

the door shuts behind you and you make your way out the building with her, arm in arm in silence. utahime hums as the two of you go to the parking lot and get into one of the company cars, with a driver waiting for you.

the moment you shut the door and the car is moving out the building from one of the back exits, you thank god for tinted windows as you immediately lay down, your head in utahime's lap, sniffling.

“oh!” she gasps.

watanabe is nice enough to have raised the partition the moment he started the car. you stare blearily out the window as you pass buildings as utahime gently strokes and twiddles with your hair.

“i'm sorry,” she says softly. “i really am.”

“i'm sorry. you don't have a job anymore.”

“mm, makeup artists always have a job. i just need to talk to some people and get the ball rolling. i'm always down for collabs and teaching classes. i'll be fine. although i've heard that the NDA Star City is sending around would require for us to be quiet about our unemployment till you release an official statement.”

you nod, wondering about the near hundred people employed both directly and indirectly due STARDUST, and whether they have it all sorted, or if they're scrambling. like you.

you pull up the group chat and send a quick text telling the girls that you'd like to send a confidential broadcast to everyone that they could reach out if they had issues finding a job. neither of them have even received the message. obviously. you toss the phone back into your bag and curl into utahime's stomach.

“what am i gonna dooo?” you groan, inhaling her sweet perfume.

“have you considered going home? spending some time with your family?"

"that's just escapism." your parents are worlds apart from yours. two middle middle class engineers, and no siblings. they're very important to you, but unless they give you a solution to this... this mess, you don't want to go to one of your few safe spaces and ruin it with your hopelessness. you need something concrete. something real.

"you could also..." you look up to see hime's face scrunched up the way it usually does when she's gonna say something so fuck ass. "you know your unemployment is not the same as anyone else's unemployment, right? you're a millionaire! you coud drop off the face of the earth and live off of royalty and stocks alone. and then when you're bored you could start an exclusive luxury clothing line and enter the industry again! loads of people have done it!"

you stare at her.

"i'm sorry."

"you should be."

"do you want some ice cream?"

"yes. get some for watanabe san too. you're buying though, i'm unemployed now."

she flicks your nose before she asks watanabe to stop the car near an ice cream truck. utahime's popular, but only in the industry. regardless, she snaps on a face mask and heads out to the truck.

what if you became a host. like for a show like too hot to handle or single's inferno. what if you joined a show. you could enter like a special contestant in the middle and topple the social heirarchy that was established there. the analysis videos would be come aplenty with that one, oh and so would the downfall of the generation's it girl video essays. you don't watch or consume news/media about yourself but you do watch a lot of video essays so what would you do if one of your favourite youtubers made one about you? you could hang yourself and give them more to talk about. no, that's way too serious, even for you. what if you got a regular--

"-- and here we have roasted almond for my baby! and plain ol' vanilla for watanabe san, no, put your wallet down! we insist!"

you bristle, getting up from still being curled up on the backseat. leaning back, you lick the side of the cone that has ice cream threatening to dribble down your hand and wonder if this really is the end of it all.

"it is."

“um, should i perhaps inform gojo san of the time? i don't think it's healthy to-- "

"ijichi."

"i'm sorry! just give me five minutes, i will be back!"

kento watches as ijichi scurries away round the corner. he sighs. he never means to be short with ijichi but anything that doesn't directly contribute to solving an issue at hand doesn't require more than a simple conversation, let alone an entire back and forth.

it's even more insulting that ijichi thinks that satoru has any say over how long he's working. satoru wouldn't care less if he worked from his office or if he worked from a rager in aruba. he thinks he'd even prefer it.

speaking of satoru, he hasn't seen him the entire day. they hadn't had any meetings that required more than a phone call and one he had meeting with suguru, but suguru had been happy to come over to his office to talk. just the thought of the two of them makes his eyes immediately unwillingly flit over to the other side of the floor. to the wide office far opposite to him, past the darkness of the empty cublicle space, he can see the yellow light from one of satoru's newer lamps on and the blinds shut. a wave of irritation passes through him before he forcibly dismisses the thought, aching for the bitter taste of the coffee he's awaiting.

he has work to do.

he slides his spectacles back down to his nose bridge from where they were perched on his forehead and cringes with the initial burn from staring at the screen. has his power increased? he should get it checked and changed, he notes down mentally.

“nanamin!”

oh he is going to gut ijichi alive.

he looks up and it seems that ijichi seems to value his life because he's made himself scarce. instead at his office door, bouncing from one foot to the other, swaying from side to side, clearly not caring for the well being of the coffee in his hand is gojo satoru.

“and where is ijichi?” asks kento, motioning for his coffee.

satoru takes that as an invitation to enter and sprawl his upper half over kento's desk, smiling face staring down at him, coffee still in his hand. kento snatches it back carefully. clearly he's going to need it now more than ever.

“ijichi came cowering to my office saying that my cute kouhai's on his eighth coffee of the day! made it seem like i'm some terrorizing dictator making his precious nanami san work overtime. that's hardly the truth now, is it?” he says, pulling a sad face, expectantly looking at kento.

kento sips his coffee. “ijichi did not make this.”

“and he never could! i sent him home. i made the coffee myself, you're welcome. one could call me a humble man.”

kento grunts. one never would. however both of them knew that while ijichi's coffee is what he expected, satoru made his taste... unfortunately nice.

“i'm nearly done. i'll just finish looking over this bit and then i'm packing. you can go back to your office.” he waves to satoru, eyes back on the screen. placebo effect or not, the caffeine makes sifting through all the numbers a little less of a task this time.

there's silence as kento makes his way down the document, making sure that it was up to expectations, the only sound being the squeak of his chair as he leans forward at times to see something more clearly.

“are you done yet? because i finished reading that almost a minute ago and it's all good.”

satoru's made his way to behind kento and is leaning over his shoulder, speaking directly into his ear.

kento exits out of the document with a smash of keys. “what do you want?” he bellows.

satoru reaches out to his computer, shutting it down over kento's head, literally, and then spins kento to face him. if kento ground his teeth anymore, he'd have a mouth full of powder.

“i need you.”

“you have three seconds, maximum.”

“okey dokey. i'm inviting superstar it girl of our generation, the only icon more iconic than me, celestial beauty siren to the party.”

kento nods, getting up to leave. “amazing. i'll try to contain my excitement."

“it will not be easy,” says satoru, pushing kento down. he scoots his ass onto his table, chin in hand. “it won't be easy at all.”

kento rolls his eyes. “and why is that,” he says, flatly.

that actually makes satoru fully direct his attention to him, a grin spreading across his face. “boy, do i have some gossip for you!” he cackles. “but you need cross your heart and hope to die pwomise not to tell anyone what i'm just about to tell you!”

kento crosses his heart with one finger, head in hand.

“okay so initially i wanted to invite the whole damn group because duh, that's how the magic happens, but imagine the resistance i got from the company like damn not a single bitch in that building is available to speak to? i almost pulled a do you know who you're talking to? so i dug deep. or rather i bullied megumi to dig deep until i had to enter the field and take matters into my own hands. pull up a few contacts, ask a few favors- ”

“why is this one band so important to you?”

“group. girl group. anyways guess what i found!” satoru doesn't leave kento any time to answer, not that he had any answers. he leans forward conspiringly, his eyes a mix of mischief and malice. “STARDUST... is no more.”

“they died?” kento starts, taken aback. satoru's gossip was neither worth sharing nor listening, but for once he had delivered some quality news. a girl group that big? japan would be in shambles. nobara would be in shamles, he realizes.

“this is worse. they broke up!”

“and how is that worse?” he stands up, tired of this conversation. he straightens himself and begins to pack for home, putting things in place in record speed. there's yesterday's leftovers waiting for him, along with a new bottle of wine he would definitely need after the day that he had had. satoru follows him, and before kento can react he snatches his briefcase away from him, holding it hostage.

“it's terrible! i cannot fathom a reason why! what they have is... is once in a lifetime stuff, and they're throwing that away for what? the industry loves them, and GALAXY...” he sniffles, “and the girls...” he mumbles, looking at his feet, head downcast, pouting.

“i'm sure you'll be fine. within days there will be a new group of 20 somethings singing and dancing and -”

“don't you see how much pressure there is on me now?” exclaims satoru, now hugging the briefcase, his lips twisted into a frown. “i promised the girls that they're gonna get a surprise! i can't just turn up with only one 'em!”

“who?”

“nanako and mimiko!" he whispers. "don't tell suguru!"

oh. oh god. the gloom that's been in him grows and kento almost loosens his tie to breathe.

kento purses his lips, moving to snatch his briefcase and satoru dodges out the way. "give it to me!" he hisses, "unlike you, i don't have time to waste over silly whims of children."

satoru scoffs. "you would move heaven and earth for yuuji, even nobara! silly whims of children, my ass! you spoil them rotten!"

"i spoil them a reasonable amount, none of which is your business. invite them all, invite none, i don't care. just today i went through mountains of reports. i've been buried in these numbers all day, trying to forecast next quarter's revenue and-"

"kento please." satoru's looking at him with a wrinkle between his brows, and he can't help but take in how ridiculous he looks. hair mussed from running his fingers through them and his glasses are nowhere to be seen. he's blinking more than usual because of it too. the ceo of the infinity hotels, gojo satoru hassled over the breakup of a girl group seems laughable, but kento begrudgingly suspects what this means for him. the ticket to the nice big happy-

“you've never cared for those girls before. what changed now?”

“i've cared for those girls!” he squaks. “i care about all children.”

kento just looks at him.

satoru doubles down. “i care about megumi, and yuuji and even young kugisaki, even though she barely acknowledges my presence. i care about your kids, so,” he shrugs. “it's only natural that i care about my partner's kids! all my partner's kids,” he adds.

satoru is an amazing liar. kento knows what satoru looks like when he lies well. and kento knows that satoru's lying right now, and he's so lov- lost that he doesn't even realize how badly he's lying. he almost gags.

"i'm asking you this as a friend," continues satoru. "i know..." he looks away, his eyes bouncing about the room. "i know things have been... rocky recently, i've been too busy with work, and patching things up with suguru, and the girls because i think" his voice softens, “i think it'll work out this time. infinity's been doing great, all the time and money's finally paid off, suguru's parents have finally- it's nearly been a fucking decade- come around and let me off the handle for making... um, influencing suguru to drop out, and the girls are old enough to let suguru at least entertain the thought of dating. i just... need to win them over a little!”

the question hangs in the air between them, and kento knows that satoru wishes he won't reach out and address. regarding any otehr issue relation to satoru, kento gladly wouldn't. however-

“but why?”

“it's... it's suguru!” is all satoru says, faltering. “he's my best friend, and he's your friend too. i want to do something nice for him, and you know he loves his daughters!” satoru pumps his arm with a guffaw that sounds all too full of fake enthusiam. or rather real enthusiasm, but something else.

the weary look on satoru's face turns something in kento. he has almost never in the last thirteen years of knowing satoru ever seen him so... genuinely concerned for anything. not when they made this company, not when their first hotel launched, hell not even when his parents nearly cut him off for all the risks. only one man made him quiver so, and he'd do anything for him. the rest of the men and materials around him were just collateral damage.

he swallows. fixes his tie and looks away. “what do you want from me?” he grits out.

satoru lights up like a christmas tree. he pulls out his phone and wow- there's an entire spreadsheet's worth of information he has compiled.

“okay, so from what i've gathered, mirage is on a complete hiatus from everything and melody is either out of the country or has left the industry entirely... or both. i'd still like you too check- ” he glances up at kento and takes in his lost look. he rolls his eyes.

“okay grandpa. mirage,” he says slowly, “is the stage name of seika. this one,” he points at a girl with a halo of curls and loads of freckles. “and melody is the stage name of yumi, who is this.” he is now looking at a rather plain but sweet looking girl.

he pulls his glasses on and looks closer. “i think i've seen them before.”

“yeah no shit you've seen them before, they're literally japan's pride,” mutters satoru. “anyways. this, is siren. also known as the celestial beauty siren, her actual...” he goes on, his eyes lighting up as he talks about this siren.

kento looks at the picture. and well. he knew next to nothing about your singing capabilities but looks wise, they weren't joking around when they named you siren. and to make it even more accurate the public called you celestial beauty siren. the picture is of you smiling up at him, like you knew exactly what you were.

“so what exactly do you want me to do?” he asks, giving the phone back.

“i need all of them here, so you'll have to make some phone calls. at the moment, melody and mirage are allegedly MIA but i need you to be a hundred percent sure first. best case scenario we're getting all three. worst case scenario we're getting just one and in this case it's siren. we- ”

“wouldn't the worst case scenario be that we're getting none? and if they're broken up i doubt some company's launch party will be on their list of things to care about.”

“well!” satoru claps, “good thing we're not just some company! we're infinity hotels! we're limitless, and if you work hard enough- ”

“we work hard enough”

“you work hard enough, there isn't a chance that we're getting none of 'em! come on kento, you can do it!”

“why is this suddenly no longer a group project?”

“oh it is a group project, yes yes,” satoru nods sagely. “between you and megumi that is.”

kento tsks and steps back, looking up and down at satoru and his audacity that seems to have grown ten feet taller than him. at least he has the decency to look embarassed.

“i am the cfo of this company. so why, pray tell, would i be tasked to snoop around the well concealed affairs of some pop girl group with your assistant who's barely out of university?”

satoru wrings his hands. “i'm too busy, and there's no way to do all this without them finding out! it's not the same as inviting any regular celebrity especially considering all the strings i pulled to get confidential information! if it's not a meeting with ten boring senior citizens that fret over the same bullshit, it's date nights with- date nights, or my family being on my ass about something or the other, or trying and failing to bond with the girls- ”

“you just had to open your stupid mouth and ask if they could be returned to the kennel the moment you met them, didn't you?”

“how the fuck could i have known that they were forced to live in a literal cage?”

“oh imagine that. how bizarre it is that every child on this planet wasn't born with a silver spoon in their mouth and five maid servants to run around after them.”

“exactly, and now they're getting to wear miu miu and party with the closest things we have to magical girls in real life. they'll think i'm amazing, we all win.”

kento rubs his temple, feeling the beginning of a dull headache.

“fine. which ones are their favourite,” he sighs, hoping to reach the end of this conversation. he's going to be having the leftovers and ordering in tonight, he assures himself .

“i got nothing,” shrugs satoru.

“they're just three girls, which one do they talk about the least?”

“ehhh,” he says, tilting his head to the side, pulling a face. “they kinda stop talking whenever i'm around and just glare at me till i leave.”

“okay, then ask megumi to ask them.”

“he's blocked on every platform.”

“then ask suguru!”

“and how would that come up naturally in a conversation? and i don't want him to have the slightest clue about all this, i can't just ask suguru!”

“ask me what?”

the two men whip their heads to the sound of the deep yet silky voice coming from the doorway. geto suguru stands, leaning against the frame. his eyes move from satoru to kento to satoru again. he's in the usual work attire, except his hair is down, and the necklaces he usually keeps tucked into his shirt hangs out in front. he purses his lips and folds his arms. he clears his throat. “ask me what?” he repeats, sounding less... breathy this time.

“nothing,” chokes out satoru.

it's amazing how much he's effected. even the greatest liars seem to fall short at their game.

suguru turns to kento instead. “kento?”

“if you were willing to review some of the reports with me. the workload's been piling up recently, and i thought it would be more effecient if we had an extra pair of eyes to clarify some things.”

suguru's eyes widen. “of course! just send them over tomorrow morning. and satoruuu...” he drags out his name, eyes sliding to the other man, who's been standing in silence. “why couldn't you ask me, huh?”

satoru straightens immediately, pulling an easy grin. “wouldn't wanna bother you, late night and all. that would be unprofessional.”

“it's hardly unprofessional to come ask me for help. especially when kento here is burning the midnight oil too, isn't he? come talk to me next time, yeah? both of you,” he adds at the end, to kento too.

kento would rather they beat him to death with a bat than drag him into whatever perverse flirtation this is.

“all right then. i'll send over the reports tomorrow morning. now if that's all, i'm going to head out.” satoru's hands still clutching kento's briefcase are limp enough for him to snatch it away from him. he gives satoru a sharp nod.

“good night kento!" wishes suguru warmly as he passes him at the doorway.

a “good night” sits at the tip of his tongue. he turns to face suguru and pulls on a smile. "you've put on satoru's blazer instead, by the way. good night."

the quick blink of suguru's otherwise relaxed purple eyes is a small win. he leaves before he hears whatever suguru has to say.

[andypantsx3]

LOADS OF FUN : TODOROKI x READER

SUMMARY: After moving into your first apartment together, Shouto seems more amorous than ever. You're not sure why—but when he comes home to you doing a load of laundry, more than your clothes are about to get tumbled. TAGS/WARNINGS: nsft (18+ only, minors please dni!), pro hero au, gn + afab reader, established relationship, fluff, emotional sex, table sex, cunnilingus, the shouto domesticity kink agenda goes absolutely crazy in this one lol (2.8k) NOTES: This piece is part of my pretty boy summer Shouto x Reader collab! Please go check out the other incredible fics people have written over the course of the summer; you will absolutely die over how good they are. This fic was also made possible through donations to the Fics for Gaza project. I cannot thank everyone who donated to one of the charities enough, as well as those who organized, reblogged, discussed, and got the word out. Lastly, I am so grateful for your immeasurable patience with me as I take time between fics to manage my workload, I hope I'm not too out of practice here lol. In summary: thank you, thank you, a million times thank you.

The sound of the door opening was hidden in the thump and glug of the washing machine starting its spin cycle.

Halfway across the house, you were oblivious—you had the clean laundry spread out on the kitchen table, hunting through the pile trying to match one of Shouto’s socks to another that seemed to have vanished into that mysterious void which opens somewhere between the laundry basket and the dryer. One of his shirts was half-folded over your shoulder, abandoned in favor of the sock search.

The rest of your things were still mostly tangled together on the table, warm and fresh and cottony, the few shirts you’d already folded sagging off the kitchen chairs.

It still gave you a little thrill—even several weeks after you’d moved in together—to see Shouto’s things twined up with yours—his enormous socks dwarfing yours, your sweaters clinging to the occasional piece of his hero suit that hadn’t seen enough action to need his agency’s industrial cleaners.

It all added to your sense of satisfaction with your afternoon—a frosty weekend day you’d spent cozy indoors, moving slowly and leisurely through some chores. A pot of soup simmered on the stove, and your favorite playlist worked itself through in lazy loops. Shouto was due off his rotation soon, and you hummed contentedly to yourself, entertaining pleased little fantasies of curling up with him for the rest of the weekend.

Which of course is when something moved in the corner of your eye. Your hum sawed up into a strangled screech, and you whipped around, flailing. Shouto’s sock launched itself full force at the intruder before you even registered you’d thrown it. In your shock, your leg caught against the table and you went stumbling—

—right into a pair of warm hands that caught you about the waist.

Your hands were on the man’s shoulders to push him off before you realized you recognized the touch—and that you’d caught sight of a distinct mop of scarlet and white hair as you’d whipped around.

“Shouto! Again?” you scolded reflexively, even as your heartbeat stuttered out of its wild kick into high gear. You tipped your head back to stare your boyfriend in the face, shoulders slumping in relief, letting him take some of your weight.

Shouto peered down at you, that tiny scrunch between his brows that indicated concern. “Are you alright, love?”

Your heartbeat pounded thunderously in your chest. “I’m—fine. But my god we need to get you a bell. I almost peed.”

Shouto’s mouth shifted minutely into something that might not have registered in anyone else’s face but was most definitely a regretful downturn on his. He looked even more unfairly beautiful than when he’d left you this morning—a little flushed and windswept from the unseasonable cold, that full mouth pink and pretty.

Your mind flicked momentarily off and back on like a circuit breaker, the way it always did when you had to process Shouto.

You’d understood he was once-in-a-generation levels of beautiful before you’d even met him, his face staring up at you from the glossy pages of various tabloids over the years. But in person, even after years of knowing him and several more dating him, Shouto’s appearance still managed to cross all the wires in a person’s brain. His features were an incomprehensible blend of aloof and elegant, sensual and warm—like a cold masterpiece of a marble sculpture had suddenly found himself with a consciousness and human desires and miles of warm skin.

“I did not mean to startle you,” he said, his voice low and warm. He sounded sincerely regretful.

You knew he hadn’t meant to—you’d long suspected his silent tread was habitually ingrained in him from years of hero work. And, in your most private and ungenerous thoughts, you suspected from years of making himself unobtrusive in his father’s home. The thought sat sour in your mouth, like a slice of pickled lemon.

You resisted making an equally sour face, shoving the thought away to make space for the reflexive flush of pleasure seeing Shouto always brought you.

“Welcome home, Sho,” you said instead, smiling up at him. Shouto’s hands moved on your waist, sliding gently beneath the hem of your tee-shirt to rest on the skin there.

He was still in his hero uniform, and as usual you felt a little goofy in comparison, in nothing but a tee and a well-loved pair of fraying sweatpants, which were this afternoon decorated with little flecks of soup from a brush with the pot.

But Shouto’s eyes were warm where they rested on you, and that perfect mouth crept back into a contented set. His long fingers smoothed over your skin as he watched you, thumb brushing your hip. He did not look like he found you at all goofy.

In fact, as his eyes dropped down to your ankles, slowly dragging back up to your face, you rather thought he looked a little appreciative. He even took a rather ungentlemanly step back, still holding you, to better take in the whole picture. His eyes wandered over the swell of your hip, the lines of the shirt against your chest, before darting to his own shirt, still folded over your shoulder.

His fingers flexed tellingly on your waist, and those heterochromatic eyes were both a little bit darker as they flicked back to yours.

His obvious regard made you feel warm. You shifted on your feet, shuffling.

“I was just—doing laundry,” you said for something to say, your mouth feeling kind of dry. Something about him always made you feel sort of shy and light-headed, even after all this time together. “And I made soup. I was thinking we could eat on the couch and watch one of those horrendous old All Might films?”

Shouto’s eyes darted to the stove, then beside you to the pile of your laundry, lingering for a long minute. His long lashes dipped, almost fluttering as his gaze traced over the tangle of your things together. His eyes flicked back to you. He was still for just a moment, watching you assessingly.

And then all of a sudden the world spun in front of your eyes. The hands at your waist lifted you clean off your feet, and you let out a startled “oof!” as you found yourself laid out in the pile of laundry on the table, sheets and sweaters bunching beneath you.

Shouto moved over you, stepping between your spread thighs, right at the edge of the table.

“You have no idea,” he intoned in a deep, delicious tone that went right down your spine, “what it is to come home to you like this.”

You wondered at that, feeling a strange combination of confusion and flattery, when Shouto’s mouth descended onto yours. His mouth was soft and sweet and insistent and absolutely perfect. The table groaned as he laid some of his weight out over you, pinning you into the laundry as he kissed you.

Your fingers clutched at him immediately, curling in his silky-soft hair, cupping his face to yours. One of Shouto’s own hands shifted to your thigh, holding you against him as he pressed himself harder into you.

You heard yourself making little gasps of appreciation as Shouto’s mouth moved down to your neck, laving hot kisses down your throat. You reveled in the feeling of him over you, broad and strong, his shoulders blocking the glow of the overhead light, casting shadows over you.

He’d been a lot like this lately, ever since you’d moved in together. He’d been adequately amorous before, of course, and blessed with a pro hero’s strength and unflagging stamina. But a few weeks after you’d moved in together you’d actually decided you needed to reactivate your gym membership given the amount of incredibly athletic sex you were suddenly having over almost every surface in the house.

One of the only spots yet to be touched was the table though, which Shouto seemed determined to rectify at this very moment.

He pulled back from you, his mouth flush from your kisses, looking a little entranced as he stepped out from between your thighs. You made a little noise at the loss of weight and heat over you, but Shouto caught the fabric of your sweatpants, gently but determinedly tugging them off of you. Your underwear was tossed right over one broad shoulder as Shouto went to his knees, and then his mouth was right back on you.

A wave of wild heat licked up your stomach at the noise of appreciation he made before sealing his mouth over you, strong fingers clutching your thighs to keep them apart.

“Oh my god!” you said, pleasure zinging right up your spine with the first lave of his tongue over you. “Shouto!”

Shouto let out a deep, pleased hum, two long fingers sinking into you embarrassingly easily as he worked your clit with his mouth. Your back arched and you could feel your clothing shift with you, Shouto’s shirt balling up under your shoulder blade, still half-draped over your shoulder.

“Oh, oh!” you heard yourself saying as your fingers twisted in the clothing, shuddering with every lick and suck of Shouto’s perfect, amazing, talented mouth.

He worked you with the expertise of long, dedicated practice—everything about him calculated to drive you insane. One moment he was excruciatingly soft, mouth slack and the touch of his tongue as fleeting and light as the brush of a butterfly’s wing. Then the next he was sucking relentlessly, teasing firmly with the tip of his tongue as his fingers played with you.

Your first climax hit you mortifyingly quickly, and Shouto seemed to know it before you did. His grip tightened on you, holding you down as you bucked against his mouth. Shouto looked more than a little smug as he got to his feet again, unbelting himself and laying back out over you.

He kissed you some more, the taste of yourself always a sort of shock to your system. But Shouto never seemed to mind, and if anything only seemed hungrier for you, mouth pulling at yours like he meant to devour you.

You felt the touch of his hand between your thighs as he lined himself up, then sank into you easily, groaning appreciatively like he’d just sunk into a hot bath. He bit carefully at your neck, one large hand pressing your stomach down to keep you pinned against the edge of the table where he wanted you.

“I always want to come home to you like this,” he intoned into the skin of your neck, his mouth sucking dizzying patterns into your skin. “Always.”

You could barely think past the slide of him inside you, thick and full and blissfully exquisite. He really was the most perfect man on earth, and he always felt like it too.

You barely managed to blink your eyes open to watch him, trying to catch his meaning in his face. Shouto watched you back, those blue and grey pinned on you like he couldn’t bear to look away from you as he moved inside you.

“You—” you panted out, trying to cling to the thoughts threatening to wiggle out of your grip. “What do you—? Of course you’ll always come home to me.”

Shouto bucked into you harder, the slap of his hip against the bottom of your thigh echoing loudly over the burble of soup on the stove. His eyelashes fluttered, mouth softening, and a realization struck you almost dizzy.

Oh, he really liked that.

You suppressed a wave of giddiness, charmed and helplessly pleased that he seemed to like the idea so much. Was that why he’d been so especially ardent this past month? Was it really because you’d moved in together?

Shouto’s arm hooked under one of your legs, drawing it up firmly over his shoulder so he could press even further inside of you. He looked so good like that that you nearly lost the thread of your thoughts, especially when his next thrust felt like that. Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head.

“Ah!” escaped you. “Fuck, Shouto. Like that, please!”

Shouto’s thumb pressed down on your still-sensitive clit and he had to dig the fingers of his other hand into the flesh of your leg to keep you from bucking him right out of you with the way you squirmed. Sweet fucking gods he was unreal.

Shouto fucked you harder, the sound of your skin slapping together obscene in the quiet of the kitchen.

You tried again, struggling to watch his reaction with the way you wanted to throw your head back and babble nonsense instead.

“You’ll always come home to me,” you repeated, gratified when Shouto’s grip on you tightened, a soft sound escaping him. “You want me right here for you?”

“Ah—yes, love,” Shouto panted, staring down at you again. He looked like he knew what you were doing but didn’t care. “Yes,” he hissed.

“Just like this?” you prompted, trying not to slur the edges of your speech when he gave another particularly mind-bending thrust of his hips. His chest rose and fell heavily and he looked a little wild-eyed, gazing down at you.

“Like this, for me,” he said. “In my home, in our home—”

You could hear the table squeal and groan with the force of his next thrust, and then you had to grip the sides of it to steady yourself as he fucked you, looking blissful. Your nails scrabbled at the edges of the table, caught in between a million sensations—the glorious fullness of Shouto inside you, the gentle grind of his thumb against your clit, the way he looked all flushed and beautiful and panting and wanting—

You squeezed your eyes shut, too overcome with the sight of him to look at him anymore, but it was no use. Your entire body trembled as you came, and Shouto let out a low swear at the way you clenched up around him, hunching over you and pressing himself so impossibly hard against you as he came too.

He slumped down against you, weighing you into the soft-smelling cotton of the laundry you were now definitely going to have to rewash. You could feel his chest rise and fall as he panted, his breath tickling the skin under your ear. He left an unbearably soft, sweet kiss just under the lobe, at odds with the near-wild way he’d just been fucking you.

You warmed, petting through his hair with a helpless affection.

“Well now I know what time I should always do our laundry,” you said.

Shouto huffed into your neck, but you could feel a tiny smile curve his mouth.

“It is not just that,” he said, but did not elaborate for some minutes until you elbowed him gently. He peeled himself off of you just enough to look down into your face. “It is the thought of our life together. Our clothes piled together. You in the home we chose and we made…” he said, trailing off.

But you thought you got the sentiment. It was about how easy it was, how uncomplicated. A safe place to come home to, no expectations, just soup and a pile of sweet-smelling laundry and someone happy to see you. It was something far away from what he'd grown up thinking a home was, possibly something he’d thought he’d never have—something you were determined to make him realize now that he always would.

You let your fingers pull through his hair again, smiling up at him. “I am going to have to do our laundry again, though,” you teased. “In case that interests you.”

And despite what he’d just said, Shouto did in fact look a little too interested. You watched his mismatched gaze trail over to the closet that opened onto the washer and dryer. A contemplative look snuck across his handsome face, carefully curling the corner of that plush mouth.

“There is another place we have not yet broken in,” he said slowly, voice dipping low. He looked down at you with an earnest expression completely in contrast to what he was suggesting.

You couldn’t help but laugh, and that was all the permission he needed to pull you up, gathering you up in his arms and layering a fat handful of laundry on top of you. His belt buckle rattled loosely beneath you where he'd barely done it up in his haste, and you laughed harder when he turned off the stove as you passed it.

Though it turned out to be a needed precaution—as neither of you found yourselves free to sit down to dinner for several hours yet.

[whoskimii]

can we just take a minute to appreciate how cuddly megumi would be when he's sleepy :(

⋆౨ৎ˚ notes > megumi x you. pure fluff!! he's so soft. tell me if i missed anything!! ^^ ౨ৎ warning : you may have butterflies in your belly while reading this!! 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

poor megumi would be so tired. like, hey ! it's not that easy to be a grade two jujutsu sorcerer and a student at the same time.

he needs some rest. and he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to take little nappy naps in your arms. yeah, he's just that needy when he's exhausted.

"hey, where you goin'..." he mumbled into the pillow as you were about to leave the bed. "i'm thirsty, meg—" he cut you mid-sentence. "drink later."

of course, you obliged and laid back down. you didn't want to irritate your sleepy boyfriend. he already had too much weight on his shoulders, and adding some more wasn't the best option on the table.

he instantly nuzzled his face in your neck, eyelashes fluttering against your skin. "m'tired..." he mumbled. "i know you are." you replied quietly, caressing his dark hair.

sometimes, you forgot how needy he could be. but you didn't complain. never. maybe that's why megumi loved you so much. but the funny thing is that he'd always deny how clingy he was. he just didn't want to admit it because you always teased him. but deep down, he knew you were right.

he couldn't help himself. how could he ? you were just so soft, so warm. you felt like a dream. sometimes, he'd even say the most romantic, adorable, heart-wrenching thing before going to whatever thing he was doing. he was just so clueless. "y'know, being with you feels like home. i'm home." he said before going back to brushing his teeth.

but you wouldn't trade him for anything in the world <3

ahhUHHGH megumi is so cute i wanna eat him up

⋆˚࿔ kimi 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[thinkinonsense]

POSITIONS𑁍

old man!logan howlett x housewife!reader

cw: oral (f receiving), fingering, bit of fluff, soft logan *mdni

wc: 900+

a/n: next mini-series will be inspired by the album positions by ariana grande. if you would like to be added to the tag list comment below. not sure how many parts yet but I hope you enjoy!

part two

home has always been a sore spot for logan. the mutant never had much of a place he could truly call home. always on the run, never somewhere long enough to enjoy it. now in his old age, he's been granted the life he always longed for.

"lo, come try this!" his little wife, calls to him in the kitchen.

the sight of you and your cute apron mixing ingredients could bring logan to his knees; and has on many occasions. how did a dangerous fucked up man like him end up with the sweetest girl in town? every day, you're in the kitchen learning new recipes while looking all dolled up for him.

the part that always gets logan hard is knowing you want to do this for him. you were smarter than anyone he'd ever met yet, you loved the simple domesticity of your life with logan. you knew when the two of you met that he craved an older lifestyle that you didn't mind adjusting to. logan thought that you were truly heaven-sent.

"think i finally got the recipe right." you held out a spoon for him. logan groaned at the taste, his hands resting on your hips, pressing you into the countertop slightly. "whatcha think?"

"think it might be the best frosting you've ever made," he mutters against your skin, leaving kisses along your neck and jaw.

"that good?" you smile, licking the rest of the spoon clean.

logan watched with dark pupils, grinding himself against your ass with every little moan that slipped past your lips.

"might just be the second best thing you've let me taste," he admits, forehead falling into your neck to catch his breath.

"second?" you tease, turning around to face him. "what's the first, baby?"

you claimed you weren't a mutant but logan thought that was the only explanation for how quickly you managed to bring him to his knees. his big rough palms caress your thighs, squeezing whatever he can—whatever he wants— until he slips them under your pretty light green dress.

logan stares at eye level with your white lacy panties and the large wet stain forming in them. he's got you sprawled out on the countertop with both legs dangling off his broad shoulders, heels digging slightly into his shoulder blades. your dress and apron were bunched up at your stomach.

"isn't she pretty..." logan says to himself, hooking them to the side to get a better look at your exposed pussy. he blows cold air directly on you. a loud whine falls from your lips as you claw at the edges of the counter and attempt to wiggle your hips in the air.

"lo, please..." you beg, looking down at him as he slides the thin material down your legs and spreads you as far as he can.

"you've been such a good girl, sweetheart." logan praises, letting his thumb circle your button slowly in a way that leaves you needing more. "so obedient and versatile, aren't ya'? one minute you're cooking me dinner and the next you're begging to ride me."

you nod, lazily; trying to enjoy every movement he makes.

"think you deserve a reward." he hums before lapping up your wetness, swirling his tongue in downright sinful ways.

not only did you taste as sweet but the little noises that escaped you were even sweeter. a hand of yours laced itself in logan's grey hair, tugging him impossibly closer until his nose bumped your clit, making you sing like a bird. didn't help that logan let his most primal side show, moaning into you and making a complete mess of you.

"so needy, isn't that right, honey? just leakin' for attention." he says, talking to your pussy rather than to you directly while teasing a finger at your entrance. "makin' a mess all over me."

logan pulls back to spit on your pussy; sending your head flying back against the countertop.

"fuck..." you moan, left hand groping your own tit. "feels sooo good, lo.."

logan catches the light off of your wedding band while you squeeze yourself. this kickstarted something deep inside of him. even in the filthiest of moments between the two of you, you managed to fill his heart with love. his mouth returns, drinking you up like water. you flooded all of logan's senses; he could hear your heart thumping in your chest, smell how badly you needed him, and taste how he made you feel.

"taste like fuckin' candy," he growls, adding another finger to hit that spongy spot deep inside of you over and over again.

"please..." you purr, looking down into his almost black eyes. "so close.."

logan could feel you clenching around his fingers; practically suffocating them. his moans vibrating your core didn't help slow down your climax either. all of it crashing into you at once.

"there's my pretty girl," he smirks, still fingering you through your orgasm. at this point, you didn't care what part of you he was talking to anymore; all you wanted to do was kiss him.

"need you, logan." you whine, tugging at the collar of his shirt until he's face to face with you.

logan assumes that you want him to fuck you; undoing his belt as quickly as possible until you stop him.

"gimme kiss."

there you were with your dirty apron, wild hair, and pouty lips begging for a kiss. who was logan to deny you such a request? his soaked beard scratched against you with passion as his tongue entered your mouth. his big hands cradle your face delicately.

logan wasn't a good man by the textbook definition but he'll be damned if he didn't treat you as good as you deserved.

[patrophthia]

Hello! Could I request tom being soft and clingy. Thank you and Your stories are awesome!

hi! thank you for reading my work!!!

magic word | tom riddle

pairing: tom riddle x reader

genre: fluff, slight jealousy, humor, established relationships, OOC tom

Contrary to popular belief Tom Riddle loves physical touch —only if he’s the one insisting it of course. And, especially when he’s just tiniest bit jealous. 

“Tom?” You ask, feeling him lazily wrap himself over you tighter. “I need to use the bathroom.” 

“No you don’t,” he murmur, tone annoyed. 

“Yes I do,” you tell him, watching as he kept his eyes on the book in his hand. “I need to go.” 

“You wouldn’t be needing to go if you were with Creevey,” he snickers, not releasing his grip on you. 

You bite back a laugh at his words. “This again?”

Two days back, Creevey had made the mistake of asking you out on a date with Tom just a few feet behind him. And though the two of you weren’t exactly public about your relationship, most of Hogswart knew to not try anything on either of you. 

Poor Creevey who build up the courage to finally ask you out after five (or was it six?) months of fancying you, only to be flat out rejected not by you, but by your boyfriend.

Who —for the first time ever— kissed you in front of everyone before turning to ask him, quite charmingly you might add. “Did you need something, Creevey?” 

You could only hope that he’s handling his heartbreak well. Because, your boyfriend was taking it worse than him (probably) by clinging onto you and bringing him up any possible chance. 

“Whether I’m with you or Creevey, I’ll still need to pee,” you sigh, “It’s human nature.” 

“So you admire you’ve thought about being with, Creevey.” Tom eyes Nagini, their eyes meeting with a sly understanding. “Is he going to be a problem?” 

“What are you going to do? Hurt him?” It’s quiet, Tom’s eyes meeting you as if he was asking whether you were testing him. “If you hurt him, I’ll bite you.” 

“And if I liked to be bitten?” 

You huff, squirming under his arms. “I’ll fight you.” 

He moves away from you slightly, long limbs still wrapped around your frame. “I can take you.” 

“Please,” you huff again, this time pouting as you try to ease him off of you but to no avail. “I really have to go, Tom.” 

His arm loosens its grip on you, still tight enough to cage you into his chest. “Say the magic word.” 

“Please?”

“You’re so close, my love,” he tells you, shaking his head as he prompted you on, “try again.” 

“I love you?”

A low chuckle vibrates from his chest. “I love you too,” he says, “but no, how about adding something to your first try?” 

“Please, my love?”A firm head shake, dark hair flailing against your pillow. 

“Please, baby?”

You learn then that even the head boy likes to be babied from time to time, pressing a quick kiss before releasing you from his arms and legs. You shuffle out of bed, yelling back at him. “Since when did you like being called baby?” 

[babyleostuff]

𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲

𝜗𝜚 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄: fluff 𝜗𝜚 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: dad!mingyu x mom!reader 𝜗𝜚 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 588

⦗💌 ⦘ mingyu loves his two girls to death. even if he gets bullied by them on a daily basis.

“daddy! daddy look!” a comically small hand grabbed the hem of mingyu’s jumper, and pulled at it. with a small smirk (that obviously went unnoticed by the carbon copy of his wife because according to her he was a giant), mingyu turned his head towards the sky, just to tease the little girl. 

“mommy!” she whined, wrapping both of her arms around mingyu’s legs, “daddy is ignoring me again!” 

you sighed, and shook your head. what was supposed to be a nice post-dinner stroll around the neighbourhood turned into the usual - mingyu teasing your little girl with no end, because a minute of peace was too much for him. at least bopul was behaving himself. 

but then an idea struck you. mingyu could tease you and your daughter as much as he wished, but you both had him wrapped around your little fingers, and there wasn’t much you had to do to leave your husband pouty and sulky. you crouched in front of your little girl, and tucked her hair behind her ear. “tell daddy no kisses for a week. and no pre-bedtime cuddles,” you whispered, and kissed her cheek gently. 

she nodded vigorously, matching your bright smile. a lot of people told you she looked exactly like you (except for mingyu’s eyes, and the little mole on her nose), but her personality had to be even more similar to yours. making mingyu suffer had to be one of her favourite things as well. 

“kim mingyu,” she said, tilting her head towards the sky. “up,” she added and put her hands up, something she did whenever she wanted mingyu to carry her. 

“gosh, when did you become so bossy, hm?” he cooed at her, but the little girl didn’t fall for her dad's sudden change of heart. 

“mommy is bossy, and i want to be like mommy,” she said as a matter of fact, like that didn’t just make your heart burst with love. “besides , that’s not the point,” she took mingyu’s face in her tiny hands, “no kisses, and no pre-bedtime cuddles for you, daddy.” 

you had to stifle a laugh, as the corners of your husband’s mouth momentarily turned down. “w-what do mean no-”

“no, daddy. you were being mean to me,” your daughter smushed his cheeks in between her hands. “and,” she leaned into mingyu’s ear, “you won’t get any kisses from mommy either. she’s angry too.” 

mingyu looked over his daughter's shoulder and sent you a pleading look. "i was just joking," he said, the slight pout evident in his voice. your little girl giggled and snuggled into her daddy's neck, making mingyu tighten his embrace around her. "girls, please."

“not this time, kim mingyu,” you smiled and walked over to your daughter and husband. "us girls have to stick together, right honey?" you rubbed the girl's cheek, making her laugh even more.

"yes, mommy," she said and nodded eagerly.

mingyu sighed and shook his head in resignation. if it was anyone else he’d keep fighting just to strike their nerve even more, but when he looked down at you smiling fondly at your little bundle of love and chaos that he was holding in his arms, mingyu didn’t have it in him to keep teasing his daughter. 

“i love you two so much, you know” he said. “and if you won’t give me kisses, then you can be damn sure i will.” 

“words min-,” 

“oh shut up,” he said, and wrapped his free arm around your waist to pull you to his chest.

natalia's note: i don't know how children work, so if something is inaccurate - sorry (i have no idea why i wrote this)

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei @honglynights @jihoonsbbygirl@uhdrienne @bloodcanbehot  @iamawkwardandshy@icyminghao@heeseungthel0ml@goyangiiwonu@bath1lda@ruurooozz@ny0sang@luuxian

[onlyswan]

summary: in which there is never enough time to be in love but jungkook is a 24/7 lover. (part one)

idol!jk x afab!reader / fluffy fluff with a dash of angst / word count: 3.6k

warnings/content: jungkook takes a day off and surprises oc <3 ; he's veryyy touchy; he gives oc's boobie a lil bite lol this guy ; s*xual innuendos; one (1) spank; oc comforts him :(; bam is home too!!; family is complete

→ in which masterlist!

note: smth short and sweet so i can recover from dreamboat loool missed my babies sm <3 as always reblog and/or feedback is very much appreciated! <3

p.s. i'm also redoing my iw taglist so pls comment/send an ask if you want to be (re)/added!

—

“baby? i’m home.”

you’re confident to say that you’d never mistake jungkook’s voice for anyone else’s. and on that note, you must be dreaming of him— the voice of an angel, the calloused palms cupping your cheeks… the audible and damp kisses delicately being peppered all over your face. everything feels so real. too real. just like how it used to be.

it hasn’t been long since you last saw him. you communicate and meet whenever it’s possible, no matter how short the time he is allowed to dedicate. still, you miss him all the time, everyday. you keep telling yourself it’s not that bad. time is passing by faster than you feared. but this whole set-up is foreign and daunting. and you miss him. you miss him all the time. that must be why you’re dreaming. 

when you open your eyes in the morning, you’ve come to expect nothing more than the view of the plain white ceiling, or the sunlight peeking from behind the curtains. 

so why are you gawking at jungkook’s face?

he smiles from ear-to-ear, bunny teeth and crinkles around his eyes— you can’t be mistaken. it’s him. it feels as though your heart has been shocked and revived. 

“jungkook!” you gasp.

you startle your own self when you abruptly throw your arms around him. he tries to hold you up, but you’re far too ecstatic for your own good, inexplicable joy thrumming in your veins and fireworks bursting in your ribcage. you squeal and jump up and down on the bed like a little kid on christmas morning; jungkook hugs you back tighter than he has ever done before, protecting you from the fall and crash.

“oh my god, you’re here! you’re here!”

“yes, i’m here-” he laughs in amusement. “ow shit, settle down- wow, it’s so early. why are you so energetic-”

“i missed you!” you briefly pause for oxygen. “so much! i’m never letting go of you again!” 

“wow!” he makes a dramatic wheezing sound. “that much, baby? you missed me that much?” 

“that much!” 

you draw back with a pout, just enough so you can look at each other, nodding your head probably too fast— you’re almost dizzy. adrenaline tide calming into waves, you’re catching your breath.

are you certain that this is not your imagination playing tricks on you?

“you’re here…” you slowly say. it’s only registering to your whiplashed brain. there is barely any feeling in your arms as you touch his face, an attempt at separating wishful thinking and reality. “why are you here?”

“why else?” he grins toothily. “because you said you were missing me.” 

your attempt at forming words is rudely interrupted. he steals a kiss, this thief… hard and hungry, keeping you in place by his palm cradling the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. 

he pulls away with a satisfied hum, tongue darting out to swipe over his lips. “and because i was missing you more.” 

for a moment, you gaze at each other in silence. you’re still neck deep in disbelief and euphoria. that kiss took your breath away. under the circumstances, you shall yield and admit that he misses you more. he requests for developed photos of you when you come visit. that’s something you never imagined you’d have to do. 

he tries to tame your messy hair, smoothing it down until he’s holding your cheeks lovingly. “i mean, what else was i supposed to do? i miss waking up to this pretty face everyday.” 

you pucker your lips in response, demanding for a kiss. this earns a chuckle from him before he grants your wish. an unintelligible noise of joy escapes your mouth as you jump and hug him again. it is shortly followed by a yelp when he whisks you off the bed without warning, spinning you ‘round and ‘round… ‘round… and ‘round… and…

your laughter soon transforms into horror. 

“jungkook!” you scream with your eyes squeezed shut and your legs curled around his waist. “okay! stop it! i’m getting dizzy!” 

the crazy bastard keeps on giggling as if he doesn’t hear a thing. you always expect these reunions to be so emotional, but when jungkook is here, it feels as though he never left.  

“jungkook!” 

you hook your leg around his, causing the two of you to collapse on the soft mattress. you land on top of him with a whimper. you breathe out a sigh, relieved that the nausea-inducing ride is over.

“that was fun.” he speaks next to your ear; the sensation makes you squirm. 

“it was,” you push yourself up to search for more air, a little sweaty after yours and jungkook’s hyperness took control of your bodies. “for the first five seconds.” 

you’re now properly straddling him, ass on his crotch. it’s accidental, but nothing new. nay, comfortable. this level of proximity won’t feel like intimacy with somebody else. goddamn, you missed your boyfriend so much. 

a big, sleepy yawn zaps your attention from him. you cover your face with both hands, wandering into the darkness for a little while. you find that your mind is devoid of any thought. perhaps you’re more overwhelmed than you let on. 

“missed this view too…” he reveals amidst the haze, a distinct change in the tone of his voice. 

there they are— the butterflies in his stomach, slaves to you and only you. he breathes through his parted lips as he caresses your thighs with tenderness bleeding from his fingertips, your skin so smooth and soft in contrast to his calloused palms. his lips curve into a drunken smile when you graze his greedy hands, as though granting them permission, before they slip inside the magenta velvet of your night dress. the material bunches over his forearms as he reaches for your hips. it leaves almost nothing to the imagination (in his case: memory). his attention is stolen by your cotton panties. light taupe. decorated by white polka dots. 

“this one’s new.” he comments.

you peer down to figure out what he meant. right, he’s never seen this before. “surprise! you like it?”

“yes, it’s cute.” he toys with the little ribbon at the center of the waistband. “you rarely get this color.”

“thanks. i think my taste is changing.”

“really?”

“mhmm…” 

his hands venture up to your waist, kneading at the flesh and reacquainting with the feel of you. he’s been pissed off at the thought of forgetting what it feels like to touch you, knowing your body like the back of his hand. he hasn’t been away from you for extended periods of time since their last tour. that was years ago. 

for maximum comfort, he sits up and pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. “let’s move here.” he carries you with him, back comfortable leaning against the headboard, while you remain sitting pretty on his lap. “bam was sleeping on my side of the bed when i arrived.”

“huh…?” you blink. 

“you didn’t know?”

you shake your head innocently, a tad distracted by your eyes roaming his naked torso. he looks absolutely ravishing as ever. did something already change from the last time you saw him? 

“i tucked him into his bed last night.”

you visited bam at the training facility after work yesterday, but he kept trying to follow you as you were leaving. your fragile heart caved and you brought him home for the weekend. you texted jungkook about it but he didn’t respond; as much as that made you sad, you figured he was just tired or he used his phone time to talk to his family. 

you spent the whole night playing with bam and watching his favorite dog entertainment channel on youtube. the house wasn’t dead silent for once. you fell asleep together on the couch until you woke up at 2am and tucked him and yourself into your respective beds. it was easy to fall back to sleep after, but it felt weird that you didn’t need an audiobook or hours of calming sounds of nature. 

you’re not whining. there have been a lot of sunny and happy days. you have wonderful people in your life who act as your support system in their own unique ways, but jungkook and bam… they’re your family. you made your peace with no longer having one, but now that you’ve built your own, having to be apart from them makes your heart ache. 

“did he sneak in to sleep next to you? he does that now?” he makes a surprised face. “what’s this? i’m so jealous of him!”

a pinch in your heart. 

you try your best to conceal a frown, but your poor choice of words paints your disappointment. “you’re not-” you avoid his eyes. “staying the night?”

“yah, you don’t have to look so sad. i can stay, baby.”

“you can?” your face lights up. 

“for you, i’ll make it happen.” he cheeses, affectionately tapping the tip of your nose like it’s a button to make you smile. “i’m only working hard in there to earn more days off, you know that?”

that makes you frown.

“babe, don’t do that…” you whine, shaking his shoulders. “you don’t need to work so hard. only do what is required of you. i just want you to be healthy.”

“no… just let me.” he replies with finality. “i need… i need a reason. you’re the reason why i’m still hanging in there, and i don’t want to miss another anniversary.” 

he bats his eyelashes. 

“being your boyfriend is my favorite job in the whole world.”

and how are you supposed to argue with one of his most heart-fluttering, most wholesome lines yet? 

you sigh in defeat. “then you can rest when you’re with me.” 

“i love you.”

“i love you, too.” 

you lean in to kiss him, but are interrupted when he yawns. your forehead ends up resting against his as you giggle uncontrollably at the unexpected and hilarious view of his open mouth. 

“sleepy?”

he bows his head in embarrassment, body vibrating with laughter. “i couldn’t sleep because i was so excited. i wanted to talk to you last night but i was so sure i’d spoil the surprise.” 

“of course you couldn’t.” you giggle, removing yourself from his lap while tugging at the collar of his shirt. “come here. let’s sleep some more.”

you lie down on the bed facing each other. jungkook moans in contentment as you engulf him in your embrace, nuzzling his face against your chest. he can smell your body wash, sweet and clean. that— that isn’t new. every muscle in his body decompresses. he needed this, needed you. desperately. tremendously. you pull the thick and warm blanket over yourselves and he melts. while he wishes he was taller, he knows he is still of considerable height. he’s been bulking up, getting stronger than before too. but he doesn’t give a fuck about those at the moment. he’s not even aware. his body fits perfectly with yours— that’s all he knows. oh… he’s melting. but it doesn’t feel like he’s being reduced. he has everything to gain. this is heaven on earth.

he opens his eyes into an awful squint, faced by your cleavage spilling out from the neckline of your night dress. there’s this urge he can’t ignore. it’s not spelt out in his mind, he rather feels like his body is having a fit. next thing he knows, he’s carefully sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of the swell of your boob. he stays still for a few seconds, and then pulls away once he deems himself satisfied. he wipes your skin with his thumb incase he left some saliva, innocent eyes peeking up at you huffing out a quiet laugh. 

“you sure that’s all you needed?”

“i’ll devour you later.” he smirks, blinking sluggishly. “i’m tired but just you wait. i’ll go all night!”

“not if i beat you to it…” you tease, having plans of your own. you want to make him feel good. you’ve been going insane thinking about it. “missed you.”

“alright then, let’s do it at the same time.” he says suggestively. 

“you know i have a hard time focusing when we do that.” you huff.

“eh, so? not me.” he chuckles. “i think you do a really great job, though?”

“…still! go easy on me a little bit so i can do better.”

“it’s not a competition, baby.” he squeezes your waist affectionately. “plus, i don’t think i’d be able to control myself once i get a taste.”

“jungkook!” you whine, growing flustered. 

he laughs out loud, giving your ass a quick spank that resounds through the walls of the bedroom. 

it becomes silent again after that.

the tip of your nails graze his scalp with repeated movements, more so for your amusement, but he is practically purring. you can’t imagine your arm being a comfortable pillow either, but he is doing great at making it appear so.

“i realized something.”

“what is it?”

“i really can’t live without you.” he confesses earnestly, then looks up at you with raised eyebrows. “don’t say anything. i know you’ll say something like ‘yes, you can!’”

“i was not. i liked hearing you say it.” you stifle a giggle. “but i’m not going anywhere. you know that.”

“i don’t doubt that.” he sighs with a heavy chest. “sometimes i just get a bit worried that you’d get tired of waiting.” 

this isn’t the first time in your relationship that he’s voicing out this fear, but the difference between then and now is stark. with the disconnection, there was a part of you that expected it to resurface. 

“babe,” you gently tilt up his face, locking your sincere and love-filled eyes with his. “we’re okay. i’ve loved you since i was 18. this? this is nothing. you’re a part of me, so you’re always with me. and i know you keep me with you too.”

you wear a brave face. you hope that he believes your words as much as you do, because no matter how many boulders the universe throws down your path, all you ever think about is how you and jungkook will surmount them. together. he is your partner after all.

“we’ll get through it like we always do, baby boy.”

jungkook nods and smiles, doe eyes glittering. you love making that happen. “sorry, i think i scared myself when i read stories on the internet.” 

“our story is different!”

the two of you burst into a fit of giggles.

“no, seriously-” he cackles, a little breathless.

“we’re one of a kind!” you keep the joke running. you want to keep making him laugh, even if it’s only for a few seconds longer. 

“we’ve gone through so much bullshit. not everyone would fight as hard as we did!” jungkook passionately agrees with the same intensity. “you’re right, we always make it work. we’ll get through it like we always do.”

“trust me,” you charmingly implore him. “when was i ever wrong?”

“never!” he immediately shakes his head. “…atleast not about the things that matter.”

“okay,” you shrug. “i’ll take it.”

“goodnight kiss, please.” he cutely pleads.

wild guess: he went home to be babied. not that you’re complaining. this is miles better than having to wrestle him over who gets to be the big spoon. you love giving love. when your heart stops beating, it would be great to celebrate how much you were loved, but you also wish to be remembered as a person who gave love until their last breath. 

“goodnight, my love.” you coo, well aware that the sun has risen. 

you plant a tender kiss on his forehead. the complaint bubbling in his throat is swallowed when you lean in closer to reach his lips. with his wish fulfilled, he flutters his eyes closed and snuggles as close to you as possible, real and proper rest finally within his grasp. he basks in your warmth and the tranquilizing silence— his breathing steady and his heart at its calmest. beautiful things enter his mind. you are the sun on the first spring day; the clouds that go with him no matter the distance; the waves that kiss the shore and never fail to come back. he heals in places he didn’t know he was hurting. 

“hold on, where is bam then?”

“his house. i gave him some treats then he slept again…” his voice comes out muffled. he sniffles jokingly. “the reaction was kind of underwhelming. i think he didn’t miss me as much.” 

“of course he’d choose that over a human.”

“i bribed him too early.” he laments.

“wait…” he feels you come to a still. “i think he’s coming.”

he opens his eyes and copies you in focusing on the familiar sound of bam’s paws clicking against the floor. the mattress quakes and he lifts his head to find the dog climbing over your bodies. 

he’s seriously a large and tall dog. 

“bam, what are you doing here?!” 

bam tilts his head and stares back at jungkook, tail wagging as his dad laughs and pets him on the head down to his back. 

“he’s so adorable.” you squeal quietly, joining in and scratching under his chin. “i love you, bam.” 

bam’s eyes switch to you. he slowly lowers his head, giving your hand a tentative lick as if to show appreciation but he’s also worried that it would prompt you to stop.

“he’s gotten real heavy, huh?”

“he’s got some big muscles like you.”

“of course! he got it from me.”

jungkook’s proud smile drops a little. it morphs into pure fondness once bam starts sniffing at him. he yelps and dramatically falls back, wiping his wet cheek with the back of his hand, but it’s game over once bam pants with excitement. bam chases his face to attack him with his love language. 

you watch the scene from the sidelines, laughing so hard that your sides are beginning to hurt. you wish you were recording. you wish that you never forget this. 

“okay, okay! you’re happy to see me! i see that now!” jungkook laughs, squeezing bam in a tight hug for a moment. 

the dog still refuses to relent, however. they almost look like they’re fighting to the death but the truth is they’re just smothering each other with affection. unbeknownst to them, you make a pained face when one of them accidentally hits your arm multiple times. nevermind, they were definitely both culprits. 

“____! save me!” your boyfriend cries out.

he bulldozes through bam and shoves himself into the tiny space he previously, and peacefully, occupied minutes before. he’s squeezing you so tight, nearly crushing you as he laughs with tears in his eyes. they affectionately call it his elmo laugh, the fans, which you adore just as much. 

you see it before you hear it. bam makes that face when he’s about to bark. your hush comes out at the same exact second as his barking. 

“this is so chaotic!” you try to project your voice louder than everybody else’s. 

jungkook’s laughs quieter but harder, if that makes any sense. 

you have an arm around jungkook that holds him taut and protected, while the other is busy with getting bam to settle down. you slide your palm across his fur in repeated motions, focusing on the spots that cause his eyes to flutter in relaxation.

“shhh, bam. it’s still too early. let daddy rest first. we can tire him out again later, okay?”

he settles on top of your bodies again. he has stopped moving around, but then he makes that face again, and you really love your healthy sense of hearing. 

“behave, bam-” you playfully squeeze his cheeks together before scratching under his chin. “my cutie bam. you can do that for me, right? you’re a good boy! i’m sure you understand.”

he abandons the urge to bark, suddenly fixing his position so you can also scratch at his chest. you almost snort at how funny he looked obeying you on accident because he is begging to be petted.

“that’s right. good job, bam.” you coo, sending him a pleased smile. “you’re so smart. you listen so well.” 

you whisper to jungkook. “it’s so cute when it looks like he really understands what i’m saying.”

“it’s the way you talk to him.” he answers quietly, placing tiny kisses along your collarbone. “you’re so sweet.” he almost forgot how good you are with bam. he just fell in love with you all over again. 

“but it’d be cooler if he does understand me.” you hum, moving your hand on bam’s head. he finally decides to flop down then. he rests his head over your waist, eyes seemingly inching closer to sleepiness. you sigh in relief. “go to sleep too, baby.”

jungkook breaks the silence a moment later.

“…did you mean me or bam?”

“you!” you chuckle. 

“oh-” he laughs at his own foolishness. his arm that is supposed to be hooked around your waist rests over bam’s body instead. he ruffles the dog’s fur softly. “let’s all go to sleep.”

you let out a yawn in response to that. you sniffle, murmuring tiredly. “i love you, baby… your surprise made me so happy. i’ll make it up to you too.”

“i love you more…”

jungkook lifts his head and finds that you have closed your eyes. your chest rises and falls in a calm rhythm. bam is closely following you into dreamland. 

heavens, what he wouldn’t give so he could stay here forever and never leave again. 

his eyes are heavy with exhaustion, hot with sleepy tears, but he fights his own body to stay awake. with all his might, he gazes in awe at the beauty of a life with you. he wants to always remember what is waiting for him at home.

[rafecameroninterlude]

hi victoria!!! i love ur pogue!sweetheart!reader and i was wondering if u could do a lil hurt/comfort thing where one of rafes friends tells reader she talks too much/is too loud and she gets super upset? i’m a super big crybaby and i talk a LOT and i’d love to see how you write how rafey defends n comforts her :,)

warnings: protective!rafe, topper and kelce are pretty mean in this one >:(, rafe defends you <3, sight angst, fluff, rafe being the king of reassurance

a/n: i have personal beef with anyone who tells ppl to quiet down when they’re excited for something, or just naturally outgoing. also idk how to play poker so excuse the way i explained it if it’s incorrect lol

before you, friday nights were always reserved for rafe and his friends, the group of them either going out for a beer or staying in and betting money on card games. but now? rafe spent his friday nights buried inside of you, both of you laughing and kissing each other in the dark until one of you fell asleep first. and rafe wouldn’t have it any other way. his friends however, weren’t very fond of your boyfriend choosing you over them.

which would explain their impromptu visit while you two were mid-makeout session. “so this is why she has you locked away, huh?” you jumped, rafe covering you with a throw blanket as he slipped his shirt on. “what the fuck, guys?!” rafe glared at kelce and topper, your skin hot with embarrassment. “you left the door unlocked, playboy.” topper pushed a twelve pack of beers into rafe’s chest, the pair of friends walking to the kitchen.

“are you okay, baby?” rafe leaned down, wanting nothing more than to sucker punch his idiot friends for making you feel mortified. “i’m in my bra and panties!” you whispered, scrambling up from the couch and running up the stairs to rafe’s bedroom. rafe pinched the bridge of his nose, cursing under his breath before meeting topper and kelce in the kitchen. “y’all should’ve called me or something.” his tone was harsh, kelce holding his hands up defensively.

“she has you so pussy whipped bro, would you have even answered?” no, the answer was no. “it doesn’t matter, you two shouldn’t have walked in like that.” topper scoffed, popping open a can of beer. “chill, man, we just came to see our boy,” kelce slapped rafe’s shoulder, “and beat your ass at poker.” he added. rafe laughed, muttering a ‘not a chance.’ before going upstairs to check on you. “y/n?” you were fixing your disheveled hair, your lips still swollen from your previous activities.

“hey..” you turned, rafe pulling you in for a hug. “why don’t you come downstairs? be my lucky charm for the game we’re gonna play.” you shook your head, recalling topper’s words from earlier; ‘so this is why she has you locked away, huh?’ locked away? really? “i better not, you should go have your ‘bro’ time, i know it’s been awhile..” you smiled, hoping he didn’t catch the way your gaze faltered. he did. “i want you with me.” he pecked the tip of your nose, your eyes shutting momentarily.

“what if they don’t, though?” rafe was already dressing you, waving off your words. “well then they can leave.” he shrugged. you sighed, letting him walk you downstairs where topper and kelce had the game set up on the table. “the girl scout is joining us?” you didn’t miss the way topper exchanged looks with the boy on his right. “yes, she is. is there a problem?” kelce mumbled a ‘no.’, followed by an awkward clearing of his throat.

rafe pulled you onto his lap, the guys starting the game as you rested your head against his chest. you didn’t know a thing about poker, your lips quirking every time your boyfriend shouted excitedly. “there’s no way!” topper slammed his losing cards on the table, “i have nothing!” kelce was getting frustrated, the chances of him winning decreasing with each turn. “if i flip this card and it’s right, i take all of this.” the guys had already put in well over four hundred dollars, the tension in the room incredibly thick.

“with this money we’ll get you that mixer you been wanting, how does that sound?” you nodded, both you and rafe leaning forward in anticipation. as soon as rafe turned his last card over, you screamed, jumping up as topper and kelce heads fell down in defeat. it was the first time you had even opened your mouth tonight, and kelce wasted no time in shutting you down. “calm down, do you really have to be so loud?” your smile dropped, along with rafe’s. “forreal.” topper glared at you before pushing the money in your direction.

“what’s up y’all’s asses? she’s just cheering,” rafe pulled you to his side, “just a reminder that you two came here on your own accord and interrupted us, not the other way around.” in that moment you felt like a little girl again, always having someone to tell you to quiet down and suppress your excitement. you couldn’t help the tears from welling in your eyes, their judgmental looks making you want to disappear. prior to you and rafe being together, topper and kelce had always been nice to you, but all of that seemed to go out the door when your boyfriend stopped participating in their little get togethers.

“we hardly see you anymore, bro, we just don’t understand why she can’t lay off sometimes.” topper looked over at you, his jaw ticking as rafe laughed bitterly. you couldn’t believe your ears. if only they knew how much you encouraged rafe to hang out with them. “has it ever occurred to you that maybe i rather spend my time with my girlfriend than hanging out with you two? get the fuck out of my house.” topper and kelce looked like they were at a loss for words, both of them apologizing to you under their breath.

“and not that it matters anymore, ‘cause you two are so convinced that she has me trapped in her evil lair somewhere, but she encouraged me to come down here by myself before i dragged her along with me. you don’t even know what you’re talking about.” rafe basically pushed them out before shouting, “and i’m keeping the beers assholes!”

rafe shut the front door, making sure to lock it this time before he scooped you up in his arms. “don’t cry, sweetheart, they’re both idiots.” you sniffled, laughing softly. rafe smiled at the fact that he knew how to make you feel better. “talk my ear off while i order that mixer, i love hearing your voice.”

[zeppelinlvr]

"Better?" "Much"

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: waking up next to Dean and getting ready with him

Notes: I promise I'll give Sam some love after this, I love the idea that Dean acts like a dad when he gets up, hacking, coughing, groaning, the whole nine yards. I wanted to thank you guys again for all of the support, you're all so sweet! 💗💗

warnings: cursing, dean and reader playfully argue, kissing, lots of fluff, reader goes to the bathroom while dean is in there, but I promise its nothing gross or weird 😔

w.c: 1k

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

The rising sun shone through a crack in the curtains of the motel room. You stirred awake, the light managing to hit you right in the eye. Dean lay next to you, softly snoring, drooling lightly and laying in a position that couldn't possibly be comfortable. You grimaced for him and the thought of how bad his neck was going to hurt when he woke up.

Sam was already awake, he still sat in his pajamas but he was sipping on a cup of coffee and had his computer open, researching as he typically did. He noticed you waking up and gave you a soft smile, not wanting to wake Dean.

You weren't exactly an early riser so you cuddled into Dean, burying your face into his side, trying to block out the light. You found yourself struggling to breathe and let out a sigh, knowing you weren't going to be able to fall back asleep.

Dean groaned as he awoke, grunting as his vision cleared and he noticed your face smushed into him.

“You trying to smell my pits or something?” he said with a small laugh, his voice slightly hoarse from having just woke up

“Love the pheromones” you replied sarcastically and brought your head up to look at him.

His hair was tousled and he had pushed half of the blanket off the bed in his sleep but he looked handsome as ever. Your hair was a mess, the shirt you slept in was twisted around your body, and your sleep shorts were riding up like crazy but Dean still thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world, simultaneously enjoying how your legs and ass looked when your shorts rode up.

Both of you were wild sleepers, flipping around in the night, blankets and pillows being pushed off the bed, Dean waking up in a panic when you would jerk in your sleep, and you hitting Dean with your pillow when his snores would grow too loud. The two of you would go to bed cuddling every night and wake up with your arm sprawled over his face and his legs on your side of the bed. Neither of you would have it any other way.

You moved yourself so your head rested on his chest, he brought his arm around you and placed a kiss to the top of your head.

“What's our next move Sammy?” Dean asked, “you found anything yet?”

“There's signs of vampires in Carterville Missouri, it’ll take us about five hours to get there though, so we should head out soon.”

“I can get us there in four, as long as grandma here doesn't have to pee every half hour” he said as he motioned towards you.

“I’m not the one who needs to stop for snacks constantly” you defended “and since you want to be Kevin Harvick with how fast you drive, you can make up the lost time from my bathroom breaks”

“Why do you guys just wake up arguing?” Sam asked

“We didnt, he kissed me then we started arguing” you defended with a sweet smile

“Yeah, come on Sam” Dean added

The two of you received an eye roll from Sam “go get ready, we can leave in an hour” he told both of you.

Dean sat up with a loud groan earning a response of “You sound like a father and you're not even one” from you.

“What are you talking about”

“All dads sound like they're dying when they get out of bed, all that loud groaning and back popping makes me think you need to go to the chiropractor.” you told him

“Alright sweetheart” he responded not even bothering to give in to what you were talking about, and gave you a kiss. You scrunched your nose after he pulled away.

“You need to brush your teeth” you giggled

“Same goes for you”

The two of you got out of bed and made your way to the bathroom, brushing your teeth at the same time. Dean was at it again with his noises, he was hacking and spitting like there was no tomorrow while he brushed his teeth.

“Jesus, you dont have to kill yourself with the toothbrush you know” You told him after you rinsed your mouth out.

“Teeth won’t be clean if I don't brush em like this” he told you, muffled by his mouth full of toothpaste.

“Okay Dean, I’m gonna pee while you finish up” you said and sat down on the toilet, Dean gave you a nod with his toothbrush still dangling out of his mouth. You scoffed and then laughed at him, unable to take him seriously with his extensive morning routine.

“You look so helpless when you pee” he said

“What are you talking about” you asked with a laugh

“You just sit there like you're waiting for a bus, it makes me feel bad” he explained “at least I can stand up and put my hand on the wall or something.”

You shook your head at his observation, laughing at how ridiculous it was.

The two of you finished up in the bathroom and made your way to your bags to get changed. Sam went to the bathroom to clean up, having already changed. You opted for a tee shirt, jeans, and a jacket you had stolen from Dean. Dean put on attire similar to yours, adding a few more layers than you had chosen to.

Dean made his way over to you and kissed you sweetly, his lips lips plush against yours. He brought one of his hands up to the side of your head, toying with your hair with his fingers. He placed his other hand on your waist, rubbing his thumb back and forth along your hip. You brought your hand under his shirt, lightly scratching along his back, earning a soft groan from him. You knew he was a sucker for you scratching his back, always asking you to when the two of you laid in bed, or after he'd had a long day. You smiled into the kiss at the noise he had made. Your moment with Dean, that was much needed by both of you, was cut short by Sam clearing his throat, your face heated upon hearing him and you quickly pulled away from Dean.

“My breath better?” Dean asked a grin playing at his face

“Much” you told him with a small smile, his minty taste still lingering on your lips.

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

[gimmethatagustd]

pretty please | jjk

Jungkook is hopelessly in love. He's not shy about it.

○ Pairing: Ex-Boyfriend!Jungkook x Reader

○ Rating: Mature

○ Genre: Exes to lovers, a hint of angst, fluff (?)

○ Word Count: 865

○ Warnings: Kissing, that annoying thing when your nips pop out cuz it's cold outside, JK being a Loser Boy In Love, written for @realityiagons

○ Notes: I'm so proud of myself for actually writing a REAL drabble under 1k like !!!!! CRAZY !!!

○ Post Date: July 9, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Crosspost

○ What was Jai listening to? Pretty Please - Jackson Wang & Galantis

“Can I kiss you?”

Jungkook thinks he sounds desperate when he asks the question, can hardly stop himself from adding, “Pretty please,” to the end of it.

He supposes it’s too late to worry about appearances. Any ounce of dignity he had left is a puddle on the ground, mixing in with the rainwater rushing along the sides of the road. It’s such a quiet night that Jungkook can hear the rushing sound of water pouring into the sewers at the end of the street.

You roll your eyes, arms crossed against your chest to hide the perky outline of your nipples poking through your thin hoodie. It’s too dark to notice them; Jungkook only sees because you’re standing under the pale yellow glow of the streetlamp Jungkook is perched on.

“Do you really have to ask?”

“Consent is sexy,” he insists.

Jungkook wants to be silly and roll his eyes, too, but they’re wide, round, and utterly eager, waiting to track each breathy inhale that lifts your shoulders and the twitch of your cheek when you try to suppress a smile.

You take a step back, and Jungkook leans forward. Your gravitational pull is the only thing ever keeping him grounded — and just barely. His leather boots slide down the slippery base of the streetlamp, which he stands on with one hand wrapped around the wet pole to keep himself from slipping completely off the base and onto his ass. He likes to think he looks like Gene Kelly, hoping to woo you back with his pretty singing voice while raindrops trickle into his eyes and drip off the tip of his nose.

“We’re wet.”

“It’s refreshing.”

You slip your fingers under the edge of your hood like you’re checking your hairline for the disaster you assume is there. “It’s ruining my hair.”

“You’re always pretty,” Jungkook insists, hanging onto your every move just like he’s hanging from the streetlamp.

Jungkook adjusts his grip on the pole. His wet skin rubbing against the wet metal makes a sound that’s awfully reminiscent of a fart. He does it again, just to hear you laugh, head thrown back far enough for your hood to fall off.

It’s sweet until your face suddenly falls, and your laughter dies on your lips — lips Jungkook knows taste sweet, knows feel just as soft as they look. He doesn’t have to imagine what it would be like to kiss them or to be kissed by them, to have them explore his body like he’s something worth finding out.

He remembers.

Sometimes, he wonders if that’s more painful than having to imagine.

“Why’d you follow me out here, Jungkook?” You frown, even as a shiver runs through your body. You wouldn't be so cold if you’d just let him hold you.

“I miss you,” Jungkook says softly. He finally lets go of the streetlamp and hops onto the ground. Muddy water splashes against his ankles, but he doesn’t worry about soiling his cuffed jeans. He can only put his energy into watching you chew at your bottom lip, knowing it means you’re nervous, not because of him, but because of how you feel about him.

“We shouldn’t.” You turn your head, giving Jungkook your cheek when he leans in slightly. He can’t tell if it’s a silent invitation for another kind of kiss or if you really are done with him.

“I know,” Jungkook agrees.

You lace your fingers with his anyway.

Jungkook has never kissed anyone in the rain before. It’s only sprinkling by now, the two of you having gotten caught in the storm at the tail-end, you barging out of the nightclub the moment you saw Jungkook with a girl around his arm. It’s only been a few months since your breakup. You haven’t moved on, and you didn’t give him the chance to admit that he hasn’t, either.

He doesn't think you've ever experienced a kiss in the rain. It's romantic, cliché, and seems like the kind of magical moment you would only share with each other.

Jungkook doesn’t know why he likes it so much.

Maybe it’s because of how you shiver when he pulls you against his chest, both your bodies siphoning heat from one another until you’re creating warmth from the friction between you. He pushes when you pull, making your bodies sway, and your feet stir more puddles when you rock on your tiptoes to keep up with the desperate way he kisses you.

He’s all hands, finding the curve of your jaw and the dip of your waist, then mapping the expanse of your back and cradling your head.

Your lips glide together, wet from rainwater and spit because you love kissing with tongue, and Jungkook will take anything you give him. He’s a puppy, so starry-eyed and lost, trailing behind you with a “pretty please” nestled on his lips, waiting to be devoured.

“I miss you,” Jungkook repeats against your lips, breathy and with his eyes closed.

You run your fingers through his soaked hair to flip the strands off his forehead and out of his face.

“I miss you, too.”

And you believe each other, just like always.

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). 

[connorsui]

Behind Closed Doors

Prohero Katsuki x reader

Genre/Warnings: Domestic Fluff, soft moments, slight emotional variability for katsuki, katsukis attitude

Synopsis: —his love for you is hidden in the small, everyday acts of affection.

Note: I like to imagine katsuki becoming a completely different person when he's left alone with you 🍒

w.c: 2,211

The difference in Katsuki’s behavior always caught you off guard, no matter how long you’d been together. In public, he stormed through crowds with an intensity that left everyone around him on edge. His voice would rise above the noise, sharp and commanding, as he ordered others around or shut down any attempt at small talk with a single glare. He hated being slowed down and hated when people got in his way. But when his gaze flickered to you, just for a moment, there was something else—something quieter, softer, that only you could see.

It wasn’t that Katsuki toned it down in public—not by a long shot—but there was a certain way he carried himself when you were beside him. As if you were the exception to the rule, the one person he didn’t mind sticking around. Even when surrounded by fans or reporters, his body would instinctively angle toward you, a subtle shield between you and the world. His touch was always firm, but never rough, as though he was unconsciously protecting the one part of his life he wanted to keep safe from the chaos.

One night, after a particularly long day, Katsuki came home more irritable than usual. You heard it the moment the door slammed shut, his heavy boots stomping across the floor. He tossed his keys onto the counter with a sharp clink, his jaw tight, and his scowl deeper than normal.

“—fucking idiots…” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his messy blonde hair. “Can’t even do their damn jobs, right”

You watched him from the couch, knowing better than to approach him immediately when he was like this. Katsuki needed time to cool down to let the frustration simmer until it dulled. Still, you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. He was all bark out there, terrifying to anyone who crossed his path, but you knew that in just a few minutes, he’d come over, sit next to you, and let out that sigh—the one that meant he was done being a hero for the day.

And, just as expected, he did. After a few moments of grumbling to himself, Katsuki crossed the room and dropped down beside you with a huff, his head falling back against the couch cushions. You didn’t say anything, just reached out and placed your hand on his thigh, grounding him with a simple touch. His shoulders relaxed almost instantly, the tension melting away as he exhaled deeply.

“Rough day, huh?” you asked quietly, giving his leg a gentle squeeze.

“Tch. Yeah.” He closed his eyes, one hand covering his face. “Just sick of dealin’ with everybody out there all day.”

There was a pause, the room settling into a comfortable silence before he added, his voice quieter, almost sheepish, “Missed you…”

It was in those moments you realized how much he relied on you to recharge. He wasn’t the type to come home and fall apart, but there was a vulnerability in the way he leaned into you, even when he tried to play it off. Katsuki didn’t need grand gestures or declarations; he showed his love in the way he let his guard down when it was just the two of you.

Later that night, after you both settled into bed, Katsuki turned toward you, his movements slower, more deliberate as the day’s tension ebbed away. Without a word, he tugged you into his chest, his strong arm wrapping securely around your waist, pulling you close. The heat of his body seeped into yours, and the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat thudded softly beneath your ear. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his breath warm as it brushed against your skin, sending a wave of comfort through you.

His grip was firm, possessive, but tender, as if holding you was the only thing keeping him grounded. For a long moment, he said nothing, just breathed you in, his hand tracing lazy circles on your lower back. Then, with quiet vulnerability, Katsuki’s voice rumbled softly against your neck, thick with the weight of sleep and affection he rarely voiced.

“Can’t stand anyone else… but you,” he mumbled, his lips brushing your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. “But with you… everything feels right.”

The words were so soft they could’ve easily been lost to the night, but in the quiet of your room, they wrapped around you like a warm blanket. Your heart swelled, warmth spreading through your chest at the rare, intimate admission. Turning in his arms, you pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek, your lips brushing the corner of his mouth. Katsuki’s hold tightened instantly, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head, as if the simple act of being this close wasn’t enough.

He exhaled deeply, the last of his tension melting away as he pulled you impossibly closer, his forehead resting gently against yours. “You’re not goin’ anywhere,” he murmured, his voice softer now, a whispered promise in the quiet. "Not without me."

In that moment, there was no one else in the world but the two of you—wrapped up in each other, his love woven into every touch, every breath, every heartbeat.

It was in these moments, when the world outside faded away and it was just the two of you tangled in the sheets, that you truly understood how much Katsuki cared. How deeply he loved, even if he didn’t always say it out loud. You saw it in the way he relaxed when you were near, the way his fiery temper cooled into something soft and unguarded, a side of him no one else ever got to see.

Katsuki might hate the world—hell, he made no secret of how unbearable he found most people—but when it came to you, it was different. You were the calm in his storm, the quiet he sought after the chaos of hero work. And in return, he gave you a side of himself no one else would ever know. That alone was enough to show you just how much he cherished you.

The next morning, you woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of Katsuki moving around the kitchen. When you padded out, rubbing sleep from your eyes, you found him already dressed in his hero uniform, his back to you as he flipped something in a pan.

“You’re up early,” you remarked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Yeah, well,” he grunted, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk. “Figured I’d make you breakfast before I head out. Can’t have you starvin’ while I’m out dealin’ with idiots, can I?”

You laughed, moving over to wrap your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your cheek to his broad back. “I love you, Katsuki.”

“Tch… love you too,” he muttered, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

The warmth of Katsuki’s back against your cheek, combined with the rich smell of breakfast, made you want to stay wrapped around him for the rest of the morning. You lingered there for a moment longer, savoring the rare quiet before he had to face the demands of the day.

He turned off the burner with a sharp flick of his wrist, then nudged you gently with his elbow, his tone playfully gruff. “Go sit down, idiot. I made all this for you, not so you could just stand around and get in the way.”

You smiled at the familiar edge to his words, knowing the affection that lay underneath. “Okay, okay,” you teased, stepping back and heading to the table. As you sat down, Katsuki brought over a plate piled with perfectly golden toast, eggs cooked just the way you liked them, and a small portion of your favorite fruit. The meal was simple, but you could feel the care in every detail.

He placed the plate in front of you, then leaned down, brushing a quick kiss to the top of your head before heading back to the kitchen to grab his own breakfast. “Eat up,” he said over his shoulder, his voice softer than before.

You dug in, and the taste of the food, combined with Katsuki’s quiet gestures of love, made your chest feel full. It wasn’t grand or elaborate, but that was what made it so special—the quiet moments when it was just the two of you, sharing something as simple as breakfast.

As Katsuki sat down across from you, he kept glancing up from his plate, watching you eat with a soft expression that only you ever got to see. He didn’t say much, just occasionally asked if you needed more coffee or wanted another piece of toast. There was a contentment in the air, one that spoke of a love that didn’t need constant words to be understood.

When the meal was finished, you stood to clear the table, but Katsuki stopped you with a firm hand on your wrist. “I got it,” he grumbled, already starting to collect the dishes.

You tilted your head at him, a smile playing at your lips. “You’re spoiling me today, Katsuki.”

“Tch. Don’t get used to it,” he muttered, though there was a teasing glint in his eye. “Just thought I’d do somethin’ nice before I head out and have to deal with all those extras.”

His words made you laugh, and the sound seemed to soften the lines of his face even more. Katsuki wasn’t a man of many words when it came to expressing his feelings, but in moments like these, you didn’t need them. The way he made breakfast, the way he took care of the dishes, and the way he kept checking in on you—it was all Katsuki’s way of showing how much he cared.

When he was done cleaning up, he grabbed his hero jacket from the back of a chair and shrugged it on, his movements fluid and practiced. You walked over to him, your hands naturally finding their place on his chest as you helped him adjust the collar. He looked down at you, eyes soft despite the serious set of his mouth.

“Be careful out there, okay?” you murmured, your fingers lingering on the fabric of his jacket.

Katsuki huffed, but you could hear the affection in his voice. “I’m always careful, idiot. Don’t worry ‘bout me.”

You stood on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips, slow and lingering, and for a moment, Katsuki’s hand came up to cup your cheek, holding you in place just a little longer. When you pulled away, his red eyes were dark with something you couldn’t quite name, but you could feel the weight of his affection in that look.

“Get some rest today,” he said, his voice low and serious now. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

You nodded, watching as he stepped back and adjusted his gloves, his usual sharp, determined expression settling back in place. But before he opened the door, he turned back one last time, that softer version of him peeking through once again.

“Love you,” he said, and it was quiet—so quiet you almost missed it. But it was there, and that was enough.

“I love you too, Katsuki,” you whispered, your heart swelling as you watched him leave, already looking forward to the moment when he’d come back and the world would quiet down again, just for the two of you.

The hours passed slowly after Katsuki left. You tried to keep busy, flipping through a book or scrolling absentmindedly through your phone, but your mind kept wandering back to him. It was always like this when he was out on patrol. You trusted him more than anything, knew he was one of the strongest heroes out there, but that didn’t stop the small flutter of worry from creeping in now and then.

It was late in the afternoon when your phone buzzed with a message from him.

"On my way back. Be there in 20. Don’t start dinner without me"

You smiled at the screen, already feeling the familiar warmth in your chest. Katsuki was always direct, even in his texts, but the fact that he let you know he was coming home—that he was thinking of you—made your heart skip a beat.

When he finally walked through the door, there was none of the usual tension from his long day. He dropped his bag by the door and kicked off his boots, heading straight for you without a word. You barely had time to set down the book you’d been reading before his arms were around you, pulling you into a tight hug that left no room for anything but the two of you.

“Missed you,” he murmured against your hair, his voice quiet but full of that raw, unspoken affection you had come to know so well.

“I missed you too,” you replied, your arms wrapping around his neck as you leaned into him, letting the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek wash away the last traces of the day.

And just like that, the world outside faded away, leaving only the quiet warmth of Katsuki’s presence and the simple, steady rhythm of your life together.

Gimmie soft pro bakugo ..I guarantee this man would treat you with respect u deserve

[buckyalpine]

Reader that always cries/tries not to cry. As someone who has been yelled at for crying and who is extra sensitive, I live for the angst where the reader struggles to hold their emotions followed by all the fluff, comfort and reassurance.

-

"But-it feels like you don't care Bucky!"

"I told you I was busy y/n!" Bucky sighed out of frustration, running his fingers through his short locks, "You know how stressful this job is, it's not like I cancel our dates on purpose"

You couldn't help but feel a tinge of neglect as you stood in front of your boyfriend, fully dressed for your date only for him to text you that it would have to happen another night.

Again.

"I haven't seen you in weeks. You go for days without answering your phone. I only call you because I care about you, I love you" You could already feel the warning signs making their way throughout your body. Your throat felt tight making it difficult to swallow. Your eyes stung with fresh tears. Your nose felt warm, threatening to sniffle.

"Yeah I get that," He scoffed, shaking his head in annoyance. "I just don't know if you understand how much I have to do in a day"

"I'm not stupid Bucky" Your voice started to crack, feeling worse for adding to his stress as your own emotions started to crumble. You wanted to hold it together, to have one conversation where you didn't break but-

"But you don't get it- c'mon y/n, don't cry" Bucky bit out, the words coming out harsher than he intended, not realizing how much it would upset you. You bit your lip harder to keep your chin from trembling, fat tears threatening to slip out the more you tried to blink them back. Your throat ached, constricting your neck more and more.

"I-I'm s-sorry" You choked out, hating yourself even more for getting emotional, the frustration evident in your voice. You harshly wiped your face between hiccups, letting out a frustrated groan. Bucky blinked, his previous annoyance replaced with regret seeing how upset you were with yourself.

"I-I don't mean t-to cry" You dug your nails into your palms to try and get yourself together, your body betraying you wish a fresh wave of tears only making you feel worse, "I don't want to!"

Your body trembled, your arms moving to hug yourself in an attempt to hide away, squeezing yourself together to gain some semblance of control. Bucky cursed internally, now pissed at himself for losing his patience when you were only upset for not being able to see him. You never asked for much; the only thing you wanted was to spend time with him and recently he hadn't been doing that either.

"Hey-no-baby shhh, c'mere" Bucky pulled you to his chest, pressing his lips to the top of your head, rubbing your back up and down to calm your labored breaths. "Its not you angel, its me. I'm the one whose sorry, I shouldn't have spoken like that to you or said that, I'm sorry sweet girl"

"I-c-cry for-for everything" Your voice cracked into a defeated sob, embarrassed over how easily you broke down to tears, a new wave streaming down your face, wetting the front of his Henley. Bucky picked you up in his arms, carrying you over to bed where he could place you in his lap, cradling you to his body. "I h-hate it"

"My sweet, sensitive baby" Bucky cooed as he continued to cuddle you, rocking you in his arms while you got your breathing under control. "I'm sorry babygirl"

"I just missed you" You sniffled, clutching onto his dogtags while he kissed your temple repeatedly, stroking your hair.

"You have every right to be upset. I should be lucky my girl loves me so much, you don't even ask for a lot. I'm sorry I've been neglecting and cancelling on you so much, m'gonna take some time off so I can love on you properly"

You smiled into his chest, your body finally starting to relax, following the rise and fall of his chest.

"I'm sorry I cry so much- Bucky tipped your face up, pressing his lips against yours to stop your rambling.

"No, you cry as much as you want with me, I love that about you, okay?" He looked at your sincerely, meaning every word.

"But-

"You cry because you care. I love that you care so much. I love that cute little animal videos make you emotional. I love how deeply you feel for others. Fuck, I love how much you love me. I'll never meet anyone else who loves and cares for others the way you do. Don't ever change baby, you cry all you want"

You let out a small sniffle at his words making him chuckle, swiping his thumb across your cheek to wipe the tear the slipped out.

"What if it annoys you" you pouted while Bucky playfully pondered your question, pecking your lips again.

"Hmm, then you send Steve to beat me up. I promise he'll run at the chance at any given moment. Call Sam in too and get comfy with those fuzzy peaches you love so much"

"You sure?"

"I'm sure, doll" Bucky whispered, settling you under the covers with your head on his chest, planning to spend the rest of the day cuddling in bed. "Very sure"

[sleep-drunk-kitten]

pairing: Sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: angst with a happy ending, fluff, established relationship

content warnings: emotional neglect, some swearing, hoon is kinda a workaholic ig?, I don't think there's anything that really needs warnings other than this is sad but lmk if I miss anything!

summary: your boyfriend comes home late after promising to be home on time for once, only to find that you're nowhere in sight...

notes: this is another one that I'm not sure how to feel about ;-; but I hope you guys enjoy it TwT fun fact, the whole thing was inspired by an rp that I did with an ai where the robot somehow managed to call me by another person's name while cuddling XD

I'm making a general taglist for my fics so if anyone would like to be added please either send an ask or a DM ^w^

Everything below the cut is NOT proofread

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

  The white noise of your favorite movie buzzes through your living room, conversation and dialogue that you’d learned by heart filling the cold space with a false sense of familiarity. You sit cross-legged with your back pressed into the arm of the L-shaped couch in front of the tv, resting your chin on a plushie held close to your chest, looking not at the flickering screen to your right, but at the clock hanging in your kitchen–the only room in the house with the lights on. 

  9:17 pm, it reads. Roughly three hours and seventeen minutes since your boyfriend would typically get home from work. 

  Three hours and seventeen minutes since you’d been waiting on a barstool by the kitchen island where you both usually took your meals. 

  A tiramisu cake and a bouquet of flowers laid out in front of you. 

  Waiting.

  Waiting.

  So much waiting. 

  After an hour or so, you’d gently slid the cake back into its box, distracting yourself with the task of putting the flowers into a vase before they could wilt. 

  ‘He’s late again,’ you think sleepily, eyes struggling to stay focused on the clock, ’he promised he wouldn’t be tonight.’

  Your vision blurs as the long hand hits 12, eyelids too heavy to keep open, mind wandering to the conversation you’d shared with Sunghoon that morning. 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

  “What time will you be home from work today?” you asked sleepily, sitting up in your nest of blankets, having woken up to find that he was already in the process of pulling his socks on, careful not to wake you. 

  “I don’t know, Love, you know how crazy things have been with this update, I might be late again,” he said absently, looking around for his glasses. “Where the fuck did I put them?”

  He runs a hand through his hair frustratedly, leg bouncing in agitation. It made your heart ache slightly in your chest, disappointment, guilt, and worry mixing confusedly in your stomach. 

  You loved Sunghoon, more than almost anything else in your life, he was the man you’d chosen as your partner, who you’d decided to stand by through thick and thin. But ever since the game company he worked for had started work on a new update, you’d been seeing less and less of him. Always coming home late, tired and stressed, mind wandering and absent even when he was sitting right in front of you. You understood, you really did. Between the two of you he was the one with the bigger income, the burden of taking care of you, of making sure that the two of you could build a future together, was on his shoulders. And it was a responsibility that he did not take lightly. 

  But still. 

  In moments like that, where you slid off your bed to fetch his glasses off the nightstand–blanket wrapped securely round your shoulders to fend off the cold that permeated your apartment since the heating had started to malfunction–moving round the bed to stand in front of him… you couldn’t help but feel like he was breaking your heart. Just a little. 

  It was in the way he only met your eyes briefly when he took them from you before standing and gathering the rest of his things, sighing in what could’ve been frustration or relief, it was hard to tell. 

  It was the way he didn’t stop the flow of movement steadily taking him away from you and towards the office till you called his name twice, stopping in his tracks and fixing you with a look that, though probably unintentional, made you want to bury yourself under your mountain of plushies and hide. 

  “I’m going to be late, (y/n), what is it?”

  You winced. You couldn’t help it. Unaccustomed to hearing him say your name with so little emotion. “Just… could you come back on time tonight?” your voice is barely more than a whisper, tapering off into silence the longer you force your eyes to meet his. “Unless you can’t of course! I’m not saying you have to do anything, I understand that you’re busy and you can’t really dictate when or how things get done but just that it would be nice if you could be home on time tonight since-”

  “Okay.”

  “Huh?” 

  “I’ll make it home on time tonight.” 

  His voice was softer than it had been a moment ago, giving you the courage you needed to meet his eyes. They were still heavy with worry, brows drawn together to dig a permanent crease into the middle of his forehead, but they weren’t quite as cold or distant. He was looking at you, really looking at you for the first time in what felt like forever. 

  It wasn’t much, you knew that. But it was still enough to ease the knot building in your throat. Enough to bring a small smile to your face as you nodded. “Mnm! Okay, I’ll see you tonight then.”

   “Mnm, alright,” he said, a small, slightly strained smile coming to rest on his own lips.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

  The apartment was almost completely dark when the lock to the front door chimed, alerting the darkness that someone had arrived. The figure that stepped through was slumped over, backpack sliding off one shoulder with his jacket, shoes abandoned haphazardly. 

  It took a moment for Sunghoon’s mind to catch up to his body, for it to fully sink into his bones that he was home. That he was home and it was nearly 11 pm. Home and the tv and kitchen light were both on, white letters onscreen asking the room if anyone was still watching Netflix. 

  Something in the kitchen caught his eye, a handmade vase his sister had given you for your birthday set out on the kitchen island, filled to the brim with pink, white, and purple flowers he did not recognise. 

  ’Oh’

  It was his birthday. 

  That’s why you’d asked him to come home on time. 

  Sunghoon groaned, face twisting with what could only be described as pain as he quickly set his bag down by the front door and made his way to your shared bedroom. You were usually asleep by this time, unable to pull all-nighters the way you used to back when you were in high school, always out like a light by no later than 10:30 every night. 

  ’But she still stays up every night waiting for you,’ a voice in his head hisses.

  ’I know… fuck I know she does,’ his own voice replies, panic setting in when he finds your room empty, the bed neatly made, not even a dent to show that you’d been laying in it while working on your laptop during the day. 

  ’She’s not here… are you surprised? How long did you expect her to wait?’ the voice whispers, a chill cascading down his spine.

  The panic sets in with more vigor, wrapping round his throat and sending his tired mind into overdrive as he checks the bathroom, your home office, and finally the dark living room. Fear telling him that this was it. 

  He’d really gone and done it now. 

  He wasn’t a complete fool. He knew the moment you stood in the middle of your bedroom floor instead of closing the distance between you and wrapping your arms around his waist, choosing instead to clutch your favorite duvet like a lifeline, wincing when you heard his voice, all because you wanted to ask him to come home… he knew right then that he’d been an absolute idiot. 

  He’d meant to come home early, to be there to make it up to you, to apologise properly, tell you that he’d take some time off as soon as the update was done and dusted. 

  But he didn’t. He let work sweep him up again. Drowning in error messages and buggy code till the sky outside his office windows was filled with the flickering lights of the city at night. 

  And now… now you weren’t there. 

  He’d left you alone. 

  He’d left you alone too long and you were gone. 

  You were gone. 

  You were gone and-

  ’Oh.’

  There you were. 

  The relief when Sunghoon sees you–curled up on the couch, partially hidden by a small pile of blankets and stuffed animals–is immediate.

  He doesn’t really register the way he sighs your name, shoulders relaxing, body melting into the floor the moment he’s in front of you, hand brushing a few messy strands of hair out of your face. The need to feel the warmth of your skin, to confirm that you really are there in front of him more an instinct than a conscious decision. 

  You mumble something in your sleep, tilting your face away from his cold fingertips, eyes fluttering open. “Hoon… hi baby… welcome home,” you say tiredly, shifting under your blankets in an attempt to pull yourself up. 

  Sunghoon feels his heart crack in his chest. Why were you smiling at him? You should've been angry. You should've pushed him away, demanded to know why he was back so late, why he'd been neglecting you in the first place. 

  “Baby? My love… why are you crying?” you ask, reaching for him through the haze of sleep still clinging to your limbs. 

  Choking back a sob, he leans closer, tucking his head under your chin and doing his best to wrap an arm around you from his place on the carpeted floor. “Nothing,” he says, shaking his head, though the tears soaking into your sternum say otherwise, “just missed you…”

  Your vision blurs at his words, a thread of steadily building tension and worry that had been constricting your heart for the past few weeks snapping. “Oh…” your voice shakes slightly, lungs shuddering as your breaths begin to feel lighter, “I’m right here you goose, what’re you crying for?” 

  “Who says I’m crying,” he says, hoarse with tears. 

  “Right right,” you laugh despite the dampness now soaking through your own cheeks, “because my baby never cries, huh?” 

  “Never,” he sniffles, nuzzling closer.

  You stay like that for a while, eventually urging him to sit more comfortably on the couch, allowing you to settle yourself on his lap, his arms still wrapped firmly round your waist, hands occasionally kneading whatever part of you he was in contact with as if he needed to assure himself that you were there, solid and real. 

  He waits until he feels your heartbeat slow to a steady rhythm, trying his best to calm down so his own can match yours, beat for beat. The way it–in his opinion–should. 

  But it wouldn’t, there were words lodged in his throat, and every time he tried to get them out he felt that same panic wash over him, sending his heart into a frenzy. 

  You could feel like beating against your cheek, could sense that there was something he wasn’t saying from the way his grip on you would tighten almost imperceptibly, stiffening as if he was bracing himself for something. A part of you wanted to push him, prompt him and ask what was going through his head, why you’d woken up to the sight of him crying in the dim light of your living room. And you would’ve if he hadn’t beat you to it. 

  “I’m sorry, (y/n).”

  “What do you mean? For being late? I know you can’t help it, Hoon, it’s not some-”

  “No! I mean yes, I’m sorry for being late tonight but… I mean… I mean for everything… for not being… here, with you, like this… as often as I should be, I’m sorry,” he says, the hands at your sides nervously fidgeting with the fabric at your hips, nervously looking between your face and the static tv screen behind you. 

  Sunghoon had never been good with words. You’d learned early on in your relationship that he preferred to show how he felt through his actions. Yet here he was, fumbling through an apology because… because… 

  “My love… did you think I’d left?” you ask, gently cupping his face with one hand, urging him to look at you. 

  Puffy red eyes still wet with tears, messy unkempt hair from running his hands through it all day, tired and probably as emotionally spent as you’d ever seen him and still… still he was the most beautiful person in the world to you. He nodded, hiding his face in your chest again, hands stilling. 

  “Well,” you sigh, resting your chin on top of his head and running a hand through the hair at the back of his head, combing through it in a way he swears only you can, “at least you know you’ve got things you need to make up for…”

  “I know… I forgot for a while… but I know…”

  “That’s okay then,” you breathe, leaning back to kiss his forehead. “But Sunghoon… baby… darling… the love of my life… my little pookie bear… “ you both giggle a little at the pet names, “You know I’d never leave you over something like this right? I was sad, and hurt, and I still expect you to make it up to me by never doing this again but… I still love you, it only hurts because I love you… I’m not going anywhere.”

  Sunghoon pauses for a moment, letting your words sink in. You think that when he looks up, lips slightly parted, it’s to say something in response, but you really should’ve known better. 

  Slowly, giving you enough time to pull away should you choose to, his breath mingling with yours before he steals it away with a soft, lingering kiss. Neither of you is in any rush to take things further. 

  It feels like a small eternity before he pulls away, like time stills for you both, but then he’s pressing his lips to your jaw, butterfly kisses tickling you down to your pulse point, making you giggle so you almost miss it when he says, “I love you too… so much…” 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

  It isn’t until the next day when you’re shuffling into your home office dressed in one of his oversized jerseys, complaining about a meeting that he remembers the flowers he’d seen on the kitchen island.

  Pulling out his phone, he makes good use of his detective skills (and google lens), remembering all the times you’d spoken to him about the language of flowers, and the meanings behind certain blooms. 

  He wasn’t quite sure whether to laugh or cry once he’d figured it out, opting to dig through the cabinets for a pack of waffle mix to fix you some breakfast instead. He had a lot of apologies to make…

Baby’s Breath: pure everlasting love

Pink Camellias: longing for you

Forget-me-nots: true love memories, do not forget me