#I sincerely hope it keeps being this good and if it does it is going to become a favorite of mine

[ilovedthestars]

I am having many many thoughts about Hands of the Emperor, but here is one before I go to sleep:

this sounds very silly, but i am eighty-odd pages into this book and almost nothing has happened, technically. The main characters are going on a vacation. It is a fairly significant part of this that the Emperor has never done so much nothing at once before. Travel arrangements have been made, social interactions had, various vacation activities enjoyed, but on a literal level there is no large plot moving forward.

AND YET. I am up late reading this already, and I want to stay up later. I want to keep reading. Because even if on the surface, not much is going on, the emotional depths that this book has already gone to are incredibly compelling.

The main character is watching the man he serves as emperor and reveres as a god, a man he cares for deeply, slowly remember that despite being an emperor and a god he is also a person, and find enormous joy in getting to be just that. The main character has been overcome with emotion multiple times by seeing his emperor smiling with great pleasure at things like a casual conversation, or watching the rain, or tuning a harp with his own hands. I am overcome with emotion too.

I don’t know if the pace will pick up at some point, but I genuinely think even if it doesn’t, I could read seven hundred pages of this, just on the strength of what it’s making me feel.

[eggwishing]

little peek at somethjing i am cooking up ...

[hyunebunx]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ⏖ ' late night moments with skz !

⁺ 𖹭 . genre: this is just sleepy fluff <3 some of the boys get kind of emotional.

⁺ 𖹭 . a/n: happy binnie day!! <3 to this day, these are some of my favorite hcs i've ever written so i hope you enjoy! (early morning moments with them right here <3)

𝜗୧ chan 𝜗୧ - 2:34 am

“Do you think Berry misses me sometimes?” He mumbles into your lap, voice full of sleep as you gently massage his scalp. Looking down at him, your eyes soften when he hugs your middle and hides his face in your stomach which prompts your other hand to begin tracing his features softly.

“Of course, she does, baby.” Chan almost purrs in response and your heart melts at the sight, managing to contain the sudden urge to squish his cheeks together. “Remember how excited she was the last time you visited? She was jumping, running around you and never left your side the whole time you were there.”

A moment passes and then two with no response from your boyfriend and that’s when you realize, by his even breathing, that he finally fell asleep.

You smile and lean down to plant a sweet kiss on his forehead, whispering a sincere I love you in his ear, not stopping your massage.

Sleeps like this, in your lap, until you’re sure he’s asleep for good before you slowly move him into a more comfortable position and wrap his whole body in a blanket burrito.

𝜗୧ minho 𝜗୧ - 11:59 pm

“Hug me, I’m cold!”

You hear him groan before he turns over to face you, grumbling under his breath as he envelopes your body in a big hug and begins to squeeze the life out of you. All out of love, of course.

“Better now?” “Minho, I can’t breathe!”

Doesn’t let go but does tilt your head up to look into your eyes and the love you see as you stare back almost has you in tears. A sleepy smile makes its way onto his lips and that’s when you manage to loosen his grip by wiggling into his arms, wasting no time as you begin to plant open-mouthed kisses all over his face.

His smile widens until giggles escape him, loving the way your lips feel on his skin as he lets you do whatever you want until you’re satisfied. When you finally reach his lips but don’t linger for as long as he’d like, instead kissing them repeatedly while also giggling, he takes matters into his own hands and kisses you deeply while still keeping the initial softness of your previous ones.

𝜗୧ changbin 𝜗୧ - 3:47 am

You toss and turn in the sheets for what feels like the millionth time before finally giving up with a frustrated sigh. “Binnie, I can’t sleep.”

“Me neither.” The response comes instantly and you sit up on your elbows to find him staring at the ceiling, visibly exhausted. You frown, scooting closer to hug him by the middle and rest your chin on his chest.

“Everything okay?”

Your soft voice prompts him to let it all out, to rant about work and his daily struggles at a fast pace that you can barely keep up with. When his voice quivers, you look up and plant comforting kisses on his neck and jaw, one hand gently massaging his chest through his nightshirt.

When he’s done and his speech slows down, Changbin moves to hide his face in your hair, muscular arms wrapping around your body to bring you closer, almost like he wanted to morph your bodies together. Being one with the love of your life sounded great right now – to be able to take all of his pain and discomfort so that he’ll always be happy and healthy was something you dreamt about often. Unfortunately, until that was possible, you hoped from the bottom of your heart that what you’re able to do right now is enough.

𝜗୧ hyunjin 𝜗୧ - 1:08 am

“Forget worms, would you still love me if I was a deadly shark?”

Hyunjin looks up from his phone, flabbergasted, just to find you already looking at him. He’s silent, waiting for you to elaborate but when you don’t, he sighs and gives in. “Darling, what the hell are you talking about?”

You roll your eyes, cuddling closer as you place your head in the crock of his neck to inhale his comforting scent. His arms pull you closer instantly, phone long forgotten. “This hypothetical situation, Jinnie, is critical for our relationship. Please take it seriously.”

Is confused the whole time as you ramble on and on about your ‘hypothetical situation’ that at some point, having had enough, he just turns his back to you and gets comfortable on his other side.

When you follow him and throw a leg over his body, continuing on while drawing patterns onto his back, he swiftly turns around to hover over you, pinning you to the mattress. Your eyes meet and for a second, you think he’s going to kiss you until your dream is shattered as he begins tickling you mercilessly instead. A tickle war starts that leaves you both breathless and laughing well into the night.

𝜗୧ jisung 𝜗୧ - 1:56 am

“When you’re away and I miss you, I spray this pillow with your cologne and cuddle it as I would cuddle you.”

Jisung’s eyes widen slightly as you speak against his lips, the lingering sadness in your tone pulling at his heartstrings in an unpleasant way. You’re face to face, staring lovingly at each other while talking in hushed voices about everything that comes to mind.

He knows that at this time during the night, he gets all soft and mushy but he wasn’t expecting to cry this soon. You were so good to him, his own angel on earth that would wait for him for as long as it was needed. You deserved so much better.

Gently cupping your cheek, you lean into his touch and close your eyes in contentment, and he bites his tongue to stop himself from crying. “I’m sorry, baby.”

His voice is shaky so without a word, you cuddle closer, burying your head in his chest and holding him tighter while also kissing his covered chest. “Sorry? Sorry for what? Don’t be silly, Ji. Your love makes all this waiting around worth it every single time.”

𝜗୧ felix 𝜗୧ - 4:02 am

“Wait, what? She said that to you?” Felix asks, voice loud in disbelief as the hand that was combing through your hair stops momentarily.

You nod, looking up at him from where you’re resting your head, on his abs, the bare skin warm and soft under your touch. “Yes! I have receipts, hold on.”

As you scramble out of bed to get your phone from where it's charging, Felix can’t help but smile as his eyes are completely focused on you and nothing else. He always thought you were the most beautiful like this – bare-faced, with your hair slightly messy and missing that furrow between your brows that appeared during the day.

Vulnerable and oh-so cuddly during the late hours of the night, and early hours of the morning you sometimes spent with him, talking, kissing and laughing until the sun rose again to announce another new day.

When you came back to bed, Felix was resting with his back against the headboard and the position allowed him to pull you flush against his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind as you showed him your phone. It was the domesticity he always craved for which he hoped would never end. That you and him like this never ended.

𝜗୧ seungmin 𝜗୧ - 12:32 am

Taking another peek at the bedside clock, you can’t help but sigh as the red digits glare at you, almost mockingly. You’ve been in bed for hours now and you’re still as awake as you were back then too. It was infuriating, and you were this close to actually crying in frustration.

Almost as if sensing your low mood, Seungmin turns on his side to face you. “Everything okay?”

You shake your head and bury your head in the warm pillow. “I can’t sleep, Minnie. Will you sing to me, please?”

His arms come around you to bring your back to his chest, successfully luring you into being the little spoon, which to be honest, you didn’t mind one bit right now. He places a kiss on your cheek, and with one hand softly massaging your hip, he starts humming. Not a lullaby, but one of the group’s title tracks.

When you glare at him over your shoulder, he grins and stifles a chuckle before starting to sing a proper lullaby. Just as suspected – his dreamy voice does have magical powers and you’re asleep in less than five minutes. Or maybe it's the way he holds you so closely and the occasional kiss on the top of your head that does the trick. Either way, you have to let Felix know asap. He owes you 20$.

𝜗୧ jeongin 𝜗୧ - 11:45 pm

“Blanket thief.” He complains, however, there’s no real malice in his tone as you roll around into a blanket burrito and leave him completely exposed to all the monsters that come out at night, laughing loudly.

You don’t see him, but he rolls his eyes, trying to appear annoyed as he hides his growing smile. “Come here, baby, let’s share.”

When you shake your head no, still giggling in your pillow, Jeongin takes matters into his own hands, literally, and lifts you up by the waist to trap you into his tight embrace, which causes you to shriek and laugh again. He soon joins in and your laughter fills the tiny room as you begin wrestling for the blanket.

“Come on, be reasonable, there’s enough blanket for the both of us.” “No.” “Y/n.” “But Jeongin, the monsters – “ ,“I’ll beat them up! Now, come here!”

Somehow, he manages to convince you to share and you fall asleep cuddling while watching youtube videos, with his soft voice whispering sweet nothings into your ear. But during the night, he still ends up uncovered and because he’s petty, he pretends to fall out of bed and says that the monsters got to him because of you and your selfish nature he can’t help but still love so much!

[star-anise]

Currently getting my socks clean blown off by Rethinking Narcissism, by Dr. Craig Malkin. Which I found, in a roundabout way, from this video on Midsommar, grief, and narcissism.

Tonight I woke up from a nap and accidentally took my morning meds, so I'm going to be up for a few hours because of the meth. In place of sleep, I'll try to roughly sum up some basic ideas proposed by the research the book is based on:

That traits of "narcissism" like entitlement, grandiosity, and feeling special are not inherently toxic. There are times and places they are appropriate and beneficial. If you show up at a hospital with a gunshot wound to the chest, you should not sit and wait to be seen after people with earaches and coughs. (Actually, medical systems are designed to prioritize people with more urgent needs, and you qualify under that system. You are special and are deserving of different treatment than those others, which is why making your needs known, even insisting on it if you're not listened to appropriately the first time, is an extremely good idea. It keeps you from bleeding to death on the floor, and keeps the hospital from getting its pants sued off by your heirs.)

It is more useful to view "narcissism" not as an inherent immutable personality trait, but as a cluster of coping mechanisms. As previously stated, there are times they are exactly the right coping mechanism for the job. However, people we call "narcissists" tend to cling to these ones even when they become detrimental to themselves and others, often because they lack other ways of regulating their emotions and getting their needs met. And that is something they can change, if a person is willing to put in sincere and difficult work. It is not usually fast change; it's a matter of years, not weeks. But a skillbuilding approach turned Borderline Personality Disorder from an immutable curse to a fully treatable (though not quickly treatable) condition, and there's a lot of hope that it can do the same for Narcissistic Personality Disorder.

Meanwhile, there's an opposite end to the narcissism spectrum, and it is also pathological and destructive to hang out there all the time. It's an aversion, or even a resistance, to expecting yourself or other people to treat your own feelings, thoughts, ideas, needs, or preferences as important. For Greek mythology reasons, its proposed name is Echoism.

Unfortunately, because most of the damage echoism does is, by its very nature, localized to its sufferer and their own personal relationships, its downsides aren't often talked about. In fact, it's often seen as an ideal moral state, a kind of altruism or saintliness everyone should strive for. As a pathological coping mechanism a person is trapped in, though, it's often more a fear-based reflex than a conscious and deliberate attempt to achieve some real and specific good. It's not actually as beneficial as being able to recognize your needs, desires, positive aspects, and areas of competence or excellence, and bring them forward in your relationships with other people and yourself.

To me this has all been a cross between a gut-punch and a cool, sweet drink of water. There have been other ways to describe echoism over the years, but this feels like the most concise and useful one I've seen in ages.

It specifically puts its pin down in the middle of the moral debate a lot of people struggle with—"What right do I have to put myself forward? What hope do I have of being seen and accepted? Isn't it better not to burden anybody else?"—and says that the problem is not feeling in touch with either side of the equation, but specifically, the inability to move from one part of the spectrum to another when it's merited by circumstances.

When I was a child, I thought Echoism was the answer. It was my ideal. I thought it was what would get me the love and acceptance I wanted, and would keep me safe from the pain of rejection or not being understood. I had no idea it would actually, in fact, be the primary cause of alienation and loneliness for the rest of my life.

Now I'm so deeply thankful I couldn't fully achieve it, in practical terms. As hard as I tried to erase myself, there were always things I loved too much to suppress. I still found ways to express and discover myself in the books I read, the stories I wrote, the intellectual work of school and the experience of pursuing hobbies I loved, my ambitions to be helpful even when they demanded I stop being selfless, and the relationships where I felt safe enough to experience love and acceptance even if I didn't think I deserved them.

There's this question I found a while back that echoed in my bones: Who am I allowed to be around you? Because that's what I felt like, as a child. If I wanted to engage with other people and minimize my risk of harm, it was my job to bend into a pretzel and fit the shape they wanted. And thank god, thank god, thank god, I couldn't fully do it. Despite everything, there were parts of me too strong and bright to lop off completely to get my arms and legs inside the carriage. I was able to take care of myself and let them grow in secret until I found social places I could let them out again. Despite myself, I found ways to grow and thrive, well beyond the trauma that said I shouldn't have.

[weirdmageddon]

i love these tags this person is so right

actually, can you imagine if dave was raised by B1 roxy?

i wanna get into this actually

(ok i had to spend a few hours rewriting this because IT DIDNT FUCKING SAVE AFTER FIVE HOURS OF WRITING WHEN MY COMPUTER UPDATED WHILE I WAS AFK so it would mean a lot to show this post some appreciation. i LOVEEE hearing what other people have to say)

even though these things mom does are presented in an extravagant, kitsch, jokey way, her intentions always came from a place of sincerity. she is simply Funnie

but rose reads too far into it and assumes things that aren't there, that her mother is passive-aggressively feigning interest in rose's interests simply because the things she does are so extra. "why do all of this if not to mock me"

im telling you right now if dave lived in this household he wouldn't assume antagonism, he'd go,

don’t forget who LITERALLY patented tangible jpeg artifacts as their post-scratch adult self and scattered shitty scummed up statue of liberties all over the planet. theres no way some of that overboard artful shit wasnt post-ironic / circling back around to genuine funny sincerity

dave's natural state is funny sincerity like roxy. he's had the natural capacity for this type of humor from the start and this is the direction he goes towards when he grows out of his brother's shadow by the end of the comic. dave and roxy share an earnest “so bad its good” type of humor

(lots more under the cut; the length of this meta analysis just got unwieldly with all the pictures and whatnot)

despite the alcoholism, roxy is a supportive mother. she's not the ideal guardian but hells of a lot more supportive of her kid than bro is. if she knew dave's interests she would totally indulge in them with some over the top silly goofy haha shit as a genuine gesture simply because she loves him

rose isn't too keen on it though. but she is more similar to dirk in her natural state of thinking of overthinking shit and assuming the worst, like the tags said

and yes dave got the sweet cuddly yet sometimes backhanded ouppy gene from roxy, probably even moreso lol

roxy's even said rose "sounds like girl dirk"

side tangent here, but this is something i wanna talk about.

i dont think bro should ever be in custody of children ever but if theres anyone who would be up to the task it's rose probably. i know she'd be able to keep up with him. not only does she have a defined personality (dave is more malleable and absorbs his environment like a sponge), if anyone can pick apart B1 dirk's batshit brain and probably be right on the money it's her. lil cal has been pumping patriarchal nonsense into bro's head and rose would be able to bring the fucking facts to the table without losing her own and being a living example of a badass little girl. i also don't think bro would try to force masculine roles onto rose like he did with dave, seeing as she is a girl, so she would actually have more of a leg up and get some passes that dave was never afforded. and rose wouldn't stand idly and accept any bullshit; she is no doormat. and i think this would earn bro's respect

but anyway, from this, couldn't we conclude roxy "sounds like girl dave"?

yeah okay. we havent even gotten into their penchant for funny typos or misspeaks, deliberate or otherwise

so, dave's environment

the sentiment "god you hope you can be as good as your bro at this some day" might have been genuine at the time when he idolized bro but of course he's not able to express that in any sort of sincere fashion because he's in dirk's fucking household. and this level 10 irony shit isnt doing dave any favors

his role models were the Internet and a vague idea of what Bro was like. So he built up his facade based on irony–not the literary definition of irony, as Rose might be quick to point out, but a popular concept of irony based on the idea that things that didn’t make sense actually made sense in some roundabout way. As a master of irony, Dave probably reasoned, he could see in a way other people couldn’t why a world that was scary and didn’t make sense really did make sense, and could therefore convince those people that he was superior to them. And he would wield his knowledge to maintain the appearance of superiority by calling everything ironic and pretending he didn’t care about things that didn’t make sense, and he would use walls of vaguely rhyming words to keep everyone at arm’s length so they wouldn’t discover his insecurities (source)

roxy's style is the embodiment of post-irony. being raised by mom lalonde would be like being raised by joel vinesauce ok

what can i say ….. (getting meta about this actually, hussie got these jpeg wizard wallpapers from a spyware website. link takes some time to load because internet archive)

rose is quick to read post-irony as actually being a joke/insincere, which in bro's case would be true. but i believe dave's natural instinct, outside of the influence of bro, is to read post-irony as genuine, which is exactly how mom serves it. we see this as early as act 3 from him; he understands her motives better than rose does herself:

and in act 6 intermission 2 i think it's pretty clear

but the thing is, it's always genuine from her. dave wouldn't have to second guess it because he's not one to naturally second guess someone's sincerity; that was learned due to his bro being virtually unassailable

there two types of ironies at play here:

seems like a joke, is actually genuine (roxy)

doesnt seem like a joke, is actually a joke (dirk)

you can make the argument that the second is is more psychologically destructive because it makes you question the reality of what is genuine sentiment and what isn't. dave never knew what was genuine and what was irony so he just sort of existed in this sincerity-ironic limbo and always did the opposite of what he genuinely felt on principle even if it always did originate from a genuine place.

"it just a joke bro i was just being ironic i dont actually x" is so much more trust-breaking and psychologically damaging than "wait are you being serious" / "i am being so fucking fr rn davy gravy" / "ok thats actually pretty fucking awesome. giant ass wizard statue" / "RIGHT"

how much about dave would change do you think? his character arc would be completely different for one thing, i think he'd have it good aside from mom's alcohol issues. he'd be left with the sweet and funny parts of him that we see at the end of the comic. the fake coolguy stuff is out, but this remains. this is dave in his element and we see it as early as act 1

he'd probably have no shades growing up in the lalonde residence* either cause those were given to him by bro straight out of the crater as an extension of his own cool image. and john gave dave ben stiller’s aviators for his 13th birthday to replace them so he could “spread his wings”

dave said he was wearing them for the ironies but i kind of doubt it. maybe post-irony but there was some reacharound to it being genuine because dave never put those pointy anime shades on his face again.

*though... it’s kind of hard to imagine him without his shades at all? B2 dave still got stiller’s shades from stiller himself so maybe getting them is a universal constant. i can imagine mom getting him them as a birthday gift cause shes pretty wealthy and probably could buy it out in an auction. but also itd be cool if john still gave him it as a gift

dave is actually a lot more genuine and easy to read than he lets on even when grappling with his upbringing with B1 dirk (again, see this post). this can be seen all throughout he comic but a good example is the evolution of thoughts about his interest in the preserved dead things in his room:

if B1 roxy was dave's guardian he probably WOULD have pursued paleontology because she wouldve indulged him in it and probably find it cool and worthwhile to pursue, instead of allowing dave to flounder under ironic detachment, being poisoned by irony to the point of gaslighting himself into believing he doesnt actually believe he thinks this shit is cool. even if it was indulged in this such a way; a superficially kitsch and ironic appearing presentation, it comes from a genuine place and inspires genuine interest. just read the comments.

basically, i think if B1 roxy raised dave, their relationship would have a surface level appearance of being bizarre or over-the-top but they’d have an unsaid mutual understanding that it’s completely in earnest and just build on each other's funny and absurd gestures of affection. rather than seeing it as one-upping each other, it'd more like collaboration of some silly bullshit that you take a step back and look at full and just say, "fucking incredible"

speaking of paleontology, mom had the proto-ectobiology lab. maybe they'd be able to use the equipment to appearify paradox ghost imprints of the dead shit to create paradox clones of things from the cambrian era??? sounds like a fun mother son bonding activity. and theyd actually put the sciencey shit in the household to use

oh god i know exactly the kinds of music shed listen too also growing up as a teen in the 80s. she on that (post)-punk/art rock/new wave/new romantic mtv stuff. XTC shit fr. this is a B-52S HOUSEHOLD. maybe the associates for the campy melodramatic flair. so he gets to keep the record on his shirt cause he is an enjoyer of the shit in her vinyl collection. dave would still gravitate towards musical expression and music itself but of more variety outside of just rap, with an 80s-90s, even 70s flavor due to mom’s influence. see this for perhaps a glimpse. ​she probably visited new york city a lot for business trips and because the music scene was cool as hell around that time, imports came straight from jfk airport, she probably got in on that a bit and have remnants in the form of vinyls and cassettes. in this way she could be distributing void to dave (influencing him with forgotten / presently irrelevant music). now he can REALLY rave about bands none of his friends have heard of. “hey davy grvay watcha listenin to” (he holds up vinyl cover) “omg snakefinger”

btw dave lalonde would look like this to me

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

THE THINGS YOU DO FOR LOVE... ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; satoru begs you to wear the frilly maid dress he bought. against your better judgement, you indulge him.

word count; 7.0k (this was supposed to be short but i miss him terribly)

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly sweet, literally just satoru being down horrendous, lots and lots of petnames (he is embarrassing), he’s ur biggest hypeman, entirely sfw!! (i feel like i have to specify that…), reader is a lil grumpy, satoru gojo is the most insufferable man on earth <3

a/n; this is just a silly lil wip i found in my drafts…. i dont remember what possessed me to write this i just think satoru would cry and fall to his knees and throw up blood if he saw u in a frilly dress

”— no.”

the word rolls off your tongue, instantaneous, with a decisive kind of sterness. leaving no room for hesitation, doubt or indecision; not a single gap for his argument to fit through, no loophole he could take advantage of to persuade you into giving in.

but despite all that, satoru just won’t back down.

”come on, baby, please?” he pleads, voice coaxing and sugary sweet. you can almost see those puppy dog eyes of his from behind the black glass of his shades. ”i already bought it and everything!”

”i don’t care,” you spit. a halfhearted attempt at appearing annoyed, in hopes it’ll distract him from the strawberry flush of your cheeks. ”i’m not wearing it. you shouldn’t have bought it, in the first place.”

”but sweetheart,” he drawls, tinged with a sadness he knows tugs at your heartstrings. ”it’s so cute. you’ll look so adorable.”

”not happening.”

”but —”

”— no. i’m seriously not wearing it, satoru.”

it’s harsh, the flow of your words, sharp and firm; but that’s your only option when he gets like this. your only slim chance at survival, being almost painfully direct. that doesn’t stop your resolve from weakening pitifully when satoru’s posture wilts, though, obviously exaggerated but still somehow effective. you debase yourself for being so weak for him. 

but giving in just isn’t an option, this time. 

under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t take too long for him to persuade you. satoru can be annoying, extremely so — but when he’s being so stubborn about something, there’s usually a good reason for it, even if it’s just that whatever he wants you to do will make him happy. to you, it’ll do.

(his happiness is your priority, after all.)

but in this case, there’s just no way. absolutely no way in hell.

he’s still holding that thing up, like he genuinely thinks it’ll support his argument, swaying it lightly side to side. it really, really doesn’t. it does the complete opposite, in fact.

”but angel,” he tries, again. you wonder if he’s eventually going to run out of petnames, or if he’ll just keep cycling through them until he runs out of air to breathe. ”don’t you wanna see how it’ll look on you?”

a sharp scoff flows from your lips. 

he can’t be serious. 

you really, really, really don’t. if anything, you want everything in the world except for that. you’d rather smash a glass bottle into little pieces and eat them one by one. you’d rather sit on satoru’s lap in a room full of other people. you’d rather jump in front of a moving train with explosives tied to your back.

— it’s so frilly. 

you almost couldn’t believe it, yourself. when he barged into the room, cardboard box in hand, fresh from the mail; all while wearing an excited grin, foreboding, but you were too mesmerized by it to even notice. 

it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, so you didn’t think much of it. satoru buying you gifts is not in any way unusual, even and especially if you tell him not to — and usually, it’d be a sweet occasion. the kind of moment you can soak in, drink up, and then recall fondly for the rest of the week. 

every single detail is worth cherishing. how excitedly he always opens it up, eager for your reaction, and how you always thank him, no matter what it is. sincerely, because satoru can be awkward with his affection, but his love bleeds through in moments like these.

from expensive, well-kept bouquets to little flowers on the side of the road; from thought-out gifts to little trinkets; no matter what it is, the sentiment remains the same.

(this made me think of you. i want you to have it. 

i remembered you mentioning this brand. i love you.)

a way for satoru to show his love, without overwhelming himself or you. a way of easing him into it, when everything is still just so new to him. 

buying you whatever catches his eye is the perfect solution, according to satoru. and it exasperates you, sometimes, when you come home to five amazon packages right outside your doorstep — but deep down you know it’s more for him than you. because it makes him happy, to be able to, allowed to show his love for you in ways like this. in normal ways, easy ways, that say more than his words ever could. 

(being granted the luxury of making you happy. of loving you, even if satoru doesn’t think he’s very good at that, just yet. but he is good at impulse buying things he knows you’d like; so that’ll have to do, for now.)

which is why you couldn’t help but let his infectious joy seep into your bloodstream, trickling its way through your veins with a sweet kind of fervour. couldn’t help but smile, a tender curl of your lips, in tandem with his cute little grin. couldn’t help but grow a little bit excited, as he opened the package — 

to reveal a cutesy, frilly, maid outfit.

— and then your mind screeched to a halt. 

the look on your face must have been something special, horrified and flustered in equal measure. almost in disbelief, as he immediately began to gush about the outfit in his hands. look at the bows, isn’t it cute? god, you’re going to look so pretty. i mean, you always do, obviously, but —

you weren’t really listening. all your mind could do was spin in circles, trying to get some read on the situation, but it was just no good. he genuinely, thoroughly, truly and sincerely expected you to put on a goddamn maid outfit. 

if he had bought it for himself, then maybe you would've been at least a little bit excited. you’re sure he'd look good in it; with those big blue eyes of his, that cute, happy grin. so good that your heart would probably combust, a little. melt through the floorboards. 

but no — he wanted you to wear it. 

and despite your instant, firm protests, he just will not give it up. your boyfriend is a stubborn man, so it’s no surprise, but it’s still enough to irk you.

”satoru, for real. no! i’m not wearing it!”

”but you’d look so good,” he whines, loud and grating as he inches closer to you. still holding the dress up like a prize; you back away, instinctively, like it’ll burn if you touch it.

”i don’t care! it’s a maid outfit! why the hell would i ever wear it?” 

sunglasses seated at the bridge of his nose, satoru allows you to catch a glimmer of his eyes — an effective method of persuasion. he definitely knows their power, and he’s definitely flaunting them for the sole purpose of making you falter. that manipulative scumbag.

the fact that it actually works makes you even angrier, though.

a sharp turn of your head, and your gaze falls on the windowpane, lingering there as you grumble under your breath. he’s so annoying. you’re growing more and more flustered by the minute, too. 

”— because you love me?” 

satoru tilts his head, white locks of hair following the movement. soft and silky, nice to run your fingers through, but you chase the thought away as soon as it enters your subconscious. he looks almost hypnotizing under the sunlight, with the golden rays illuminating his features, smoothing over the contours of his face — as if the sun was made solely to shine on his skin.

and ah, you think, there we go. satoru’s classic tactic; using your love for him as a bargaining chip, pouting down at you like a kicked puppy. you like to picture his eyes all watery and glassy, everytime he tries it, as if he’s some rejected cartoon-mascot. so silly. 

valiantly, you fight off the temptation to smile, gracing him with another little scoff instead. shooting him an unimpressed look, a tiny raise of your eyebrow. ”that won’t work on me.”

”aww, come on,” he almost coos, inching closer still. ”don’t you love me? my sweetiepie? my cute lil’ mochi?” 

(he’s getting bolder with the petnames, you note. as if that’d change anything. they’re so cheesy it makes you recoil.)

”obviously.” you deadpan, trying your best not to let affection seep into the words. but you see satoru’s lips curl up, anyway. ”i’m still not wearing it, though. sorry.”

satoru sighs. heavy, exasperated — dare you say defeated? for a second, you delude yourself into thinking he might actually give in, for once, spare you both the trouble — 

until he falls to the floor, knees hitting the soft flooring with a loud thud. awfully dramatic. he clasps his hands together as if to beg and plead, a starved dog at your feet, and gazes up at you with newfound determination.

”please, baby — i’m begging you,” he groans, voice sad and pained, agonized, like you just threatened to break up with him. silly, silly man.

”don’t grovel.” a sigh drops from your lips as the pads of your fingers go to massage your temples. soothing what you’re almost sure is an incoming headache.

and he makes a certain noise, almost a whimper, like you just kicked him in the gut. you glance down at him as if to signal really? with your eyes, lips parting to speak — 

but your breath only hitches in your throat, and no sound comes out.

satoru’s eyes are almost teary. peeking out from behind his shades, big and glassy, eyelashes dewy with what you know are just crocodile tears. he’s far too skilled at it for his own good, though — maybe you should be supporting his acting career, instead of the weird teacher-slash-sorcerer thing he’s got going on.

and you’re weak, you realize, terribly so. because something deep within your chest constricts, at those sad eyes, heart squeezed painfully, and when you speak you note that your voice sounds a lot softer. 

”satoru,” you sigh, again; more resigned this time, a little fatigued. missing the way his eyes glint at the sound, as if sensing an opportunity. ”really. i’m sorry i wasted your money, but it’s just… not happening. okay?” 

attempting to sound delicate, your voice settles on a soothing tilt, like an adult speaking to a tantrum-throwing child. hoping it’ll be enough to make him falter even slightly. 

it isn’t, of course; if anything, his determination only grows. 

”even just for a short while?” he tries, voice sweet and pliant. all daisies and sunbeams, tailormade to tug at your heartstrings. ”just an hour or so! then i’ll be satisfied.”

”an hour? no way!” you scoff.

and this time, you don’t miss it. from behind those shades, a certain glimmer of something flickers through his irises — something keen and observant. a certain dread crawls its way down your spine.

”so it’s fine if it’s less?” he grins, changing tactics, smooth and decisive. ”half an hour. that’s as low as i’ll go.”

”oh my god.” an exhale, drawn out and exhausted, from the very depths of your chest. ”satoru. toru. no. i’m not wearing it at all. this isn’t an auction.”

”but it could be,” he purrs, still on his knees. it makes him look a little bit disturbed. ”c’mon. why are you getting so shy? guess what — i’ll even settle for twenty minutes. just for you.”

oh, he’s just awful. you want so badly to be mad at him, and that teasing, smug, shit-eating little smirk of his — but you can’t. 

not when he looks so effortlessly pretty, bathed in the light of the sun, surrounded by a mellow glow so tender it makes him look something like an angel. not when he’s acting so characteristically himself, so stubborn and infuriating and entirely impossible not to love. 

another sigh. you’re a little surprised you have enough air left in your lungs to breathe it out, and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re beginning to grow just a bit tired of the back and forth. ”i’m not shy,” you huff. ”i just don’t want to. it won’t look good on me, anyway.”

satoru blinks. genuine surprise shines in his eyes, for a second, like you caught him off guard. ”huh? of course it will. why wouldn’t it?”

a pause. gnawing at your bottom lip, you avert your gaze, trying to find the words. ”it’s just… tacky,” you settle on. ”it’ll look weird.”

”it won’t! you’ll look so cute!”

another huff, as your dispassionate, bored gaze meets his. ”and how do you know that?”

satoru's answer is instantaneous. ”you always look cute. just wanna see how you look in this,” he chirps, brandishing the outfit with barely contained excitement. thoroughly giddy. ”when i saw it, i knew it’d look adorable on you. and i’m never wrong!”

a soft pout plays at your lips, in the wake of his eager sincerity. barely noticeable, just a little embarrassed, but it’s there. and satoru’s seen it, finally — the road to victory. he knows he can win this, if he’s smart about it.

”i just wanna see you in it. just for a second. please? pretty please?” he tilts his head, tantalizing, showing off the blue of his eyes and the curl of his lips. ”then i’ll never ask you for anything again. promise!”

”okay, that’s a lie and we both know it.”

the grin that blooms on your lips is a mistake, you quickly realize, because satoru interprets any sign of joy on your face as positive approval. his determination grows.

”yeah, yeah… but i mean it! i won’t bother you if you just wear it once. just once!” he puts a single finger up, to emphasize the point. ”just wanna see my precious baby all frilly and cute. won’t you indulge me, oh my dearest?”

he’s grinning, now, all soft and teasing. it’s more breathtaking than he’ll ever understand. he’ll never even come close to understanding how gorgeous he is, like this — when there’s no one around to perform for, when he can just be himself. when it’s just you, and satoru, and the feeling of having all the time in the world.

(even if you don’t.)

and you know your face must be flushed, a soft cherry red, as your gaze falls to the floor. the heat on your cheeks and neck, the pitter patter of your heartbeat; you feel it all. 

and it’s embarrassing, to find yourself so fervently twisted around someone’s finger — to find that you don’t even really mind. being wrapped around satoru’s finger isn’t so awful, all things considered. it’s a scary thought, for sure, but he’d never abuse the privilege. probably.

— a sigh. 

you still don’t want to wear it. you really don’t. it’s just awful. tacky, and embarrassing, and overall unpleasant. 

… but if it’ll get him to stop nagging you like this… 

and if it’s just for a short while…

silence, only silence, spilling into the sunkissed air. outside your apartment, the sky melts into a buttery orange hue. an intense contemplation is etched into your eyes, and satoru takes note of it; opting to put the final nail in the coffin. his very last bid.

”fifteen minutes. then you’re —”

”ten minutes,” you cut him off. sounding just a tad exhausted — resigned to your fate. 

and satoru doesn’t even bother trying to hide his excitement. suddenly beaming, he shoots up to his feet, and it causes you to jolt. ”perfect,” he grins, holding the dress out toward you. a little too eager for your liking.

”— but seriously. i’m only wearing it once. never again,” you tilt your head. ”got it?” satoru just nods, happily, so excited he’s practically jumping up and down — and despite everything, you still can’t find it in you to be angry. 

he looks so earnestly giddy.

eyes brimming with suspicion and weariness, your hands reach out to take it into your arms; the puffy dress, the frilly headwear, and the black thigh highs. you’re surprised he didn’t invest in a pair of shoes, while he was at it. just to complete the set.

(you decide not to comment on it, knowing he’d have some poor, overworked shoemaker on the phone within seconds.)

”need my help putting it on?” he purrs, face suddenly very close to yours — and the sudden stutter of your heartbeat sparks a hitch of your throat. desperate to cover it up, you shoot him a hefty glare.

”oh, shut up,” you hiss, but satoru only grins wider. soft little giggles flowing from his lips, like a schoolgirl teasing her upperclassman. silly.

a heavy hesitance rests on your features, as you give the outfit another chance. judgemental eyes trailing over the bows and frills, giving it a thorough look, until your lips curl down into a soft frown. it’s not that bad, but…

”it’s kinda ugly,” you lie, decisively.

”really? i think it’s cute, though.” 

”yeah, ’cause you have no taste.” a click of your tongue. ”what’s so great about maid outfits, anyway? i don’t see the appeal.”

satoru smiles. carefree, amused — still very much teasing. ”well, we’re about to find out,” he chirps.

you give him a look, eventually giving way to a soft exhale. ”fine — but only ten minutes. at most.” a pause, as you stop to think. what else? ”oh, and no taking pictures.”

”— i’m taking pictures.”

…

the exasperated look you send his way doesn’t seem to phase satoru even in the slightest. he continues to smile at you, unbothered, soft around the edges, and you know you’re not winning this one either.

”… fine,” you sigh. ”but — not too many, okay? and you aren’t allowed to show anyone, either.”

”of course not,” he scoffs, almost offended. ”as if i’d let anyone else see you like that.”

stuck between feeling relieved and put off, you settle on simply letting it go. and satoru continues to speak, reassuringly, glossy lips shining in the sunlight as they part.

”rest assured, baby,” he hums, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. ”this stays between us. i swear on my honour.”

you snort. ”like you’ve got any of that.”

”mean. anyway — c’mon. i can’t wait any longer.” before you can think to protest, he’s ushering you away in the direction of the bathroom, big hands heavy on your shoulders as they push you. still hesitant, you make no move to resist.

(what have you gotten yourself into?)

with one final sigh, your fingers curl around the doorknob, outfit hanging off your arm. not before sending one final glance back at satoru, reinstating your conditions. ”just this once. then you’re selling it. or burning it.”

”yes, yes — you have my word,” he promises. before you can narrow your eyes, he pushes you forward, gently; bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. ”go on, i’m waiting!”

”yeah, yeah…”

the door closes behind you with a soft thud, and the reality of the situation begins to finally dawn on you. the maid outfit weighs heavy on your heart, but light in your arms — you gaze down at it with pure contempt. it’s not like you have a choice, though. satoru won’t let you wriggle away from this one. and maybe, just maybe, a part of you wants to indulge him, after all.

(his smile shone so brightly, in the light of the sun.)

and it’s almost cautious, the way you begin to dress yourself; first the thigh highs, black and silky, then the outfit itself. pulling it over your head, your arms sneaking through the openings. 

it’s a perfect fit. 

a second passes. you stop to think, brows furrowing in suspicion — did the little bastard measure you? just to make sure he got it exactly right? he has been rummaging through your closet more than usual, recently, but you didn’t think much of it. over the years, you’ve conditioned yourself not to question the things that he does. that sneaky, sneaky man.

after putting on the headwear, you finally lift your gaze, tentative and slow — to take a peek at your own reflection. the flush on your face stands out, a contrast to the black and white colour scheme of the outfit. 

and you can’t help but exhale, a little exasperated.

it’s so… frilly. there are frills on the sleeves, on the shoulderpads, on the skirt, on the hems… everywhere. little bows litter the surface of the smooth fabric, a big one attached to the collar, and several smaller ones across the sleeves. 

and as much as you loath to admit it — it is kind of cute. 

still, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re only embarrassing yourself. it’s hard not to think, when a maid outfit is staring into your soul through the mirror — and you just so happen to be wearing it.

(what the hell are you even doing?)

a low groan slips from your lips, and you crouch down, to bury your face in your knees. the flush of your cheeks is beginning to spread towards the tips of your ears, growing hotter by the minute. satoru’s about to see you like this, of all people. how on earth will he react?

(what if he thinks it looks weird, too?) 

”i’m still waiting!” a voice suddenly exclaims, sing-songy and sweet, and closer than you realized. has he just been standing there and waiting in silence, this whole time? of course he has.

”just —” you croak out, words a little strangled. ”just… give me a minute.”

satoru lets out a high-pitched whine, cheek pressed against the cold wood of the door. ”but i’ve been waiting so long already!” he complains, pouting, the urge to see you growing unbearable. impatience tugging at his heart, so excited he can barely pull himself together.

(all he can think of is you, you, you.)

curling up into a little ball, you attempt to swallow the bundle of nerves in the back of your throat — but that jittery, feather-light feeling of your heartbeat just won’t go away. it makes you feel a little paralyzed.

you're actually, genuinely, sincerely about to go show off a goddamn maid outfit. what the hell.

when you finally grasp control over your vocal cords and part your lips to speak, the voice that spills out into the air sounds more than a little meek. but you can’t quite bring yourself to care, overcome by a heart-tingling nervosity and the heat of your skin.

 ”… i don’t want to.”

satoru pauses. 

he can picture you, in his mind’s eye; the way you must look, right now. clad in frills and a cute little skirt, face flushed red and embarrassed, as you shift from foot to foot. and it takes concentrated effort, to bite back the coo that threatens to crawl up his throat — but he knows it’s still not too late for you to change your mind. if he wants to see you, he needs to be careful. so he tactfully opts not to tease you.

”come on, angel,” he soothes, instead. voice smooth like honey, like coffee with cream and too much sweetener. ”don’t be embarrassed.”

you stay silent, still attempting to suffocate the tinge of humiliation in the depths of your chest. so satoru continues. ”just come on out, hm? might as well get it over with. then you won’t have to think of it again.”

a moment passes.

”… do i have to?”

the corners of his lips curl up.

ah, you’re so cute. all embarrassed, almost childish, in the way you’re still trying to be difficult; and satoru just indulges you, all too eager to get you to show yourself to him. ”yes, you do,” he coos. ”be good f' me and come on out, okay?”

a couple moments pass. eerily silent, growing second by second. the only sound that fills the air is that of satoru’s soft breathing, the distant whirring of the ceiling fan.

until finally, he hears the squeak of the bathroom floor. you stand up, turning to glance at your reflection in the mirror one last time, before hesitantly reaching for the doorknob.

it’s slow, the way you open the door, agonizingly so — pushing at it slightly and dragging the movement out. and you can feel satoru’s presence, right behind it, as he takes a step back to give you space. when you finally step over the threshold, you adamantly refuse to meet his gaze.

(satoru’s breath hitches in his throat.)

there you stand, gaze stubbornly averted, expression flustered and mildly annoyed. cheeks dusted a dark cherry-red, that crawls towards the tips of your ears as you fidget with your frilly, oversized sleeves. they’re dressed in little bows, awfully cute, and so is the skirt — short, but not enough to expose the skin of your thighs above the thigh highs. you still squirm a little, thighs pressed together. 

and then, of course, the big bow on your collar to complete the look. pink in colour, a stark contrast to the whites and blacks of the remaining outfit.

after a moment passes with nothing but pure silence, your lips part to speak. doing anything you can to stop yourself from looking over at the man in front of you, afraid of what you’ll see. ”i don’t think it suits me,” is muttered, a tiny huff. ”… and i still don’t see the appeal, by the way.”

— but satoru doesn’t answer. 

he just stares. uncharacteristically silent, in a way you’re wholly unaccustomed to. enough so that you find yourself gnawing at your bottom lip, fidgeting with the hem of the skirt, hoping the smooth texture will soothe your nerves a little. the beating of your heart resounds in your ears, sending blood flowing through your veins with excited pumps.

the silence festers, and all you can do is let it grow, your nervosity thickening with it — until it’s just too much to bear. 

(ahh, you knew it. it really does look weird, doesn’t it? that’s to be expected. 

still, you can’t help but feel just slightly dejected.) 

”… why aren’t you saying anything?” 

the little mumble comes out sounding embarrassed, and maybe just a little defeated, too. but satoru doesn’t hear it. as your gaze falls on the man in question, slowly, you take in his expression with a frown on your face — and realize that he isn’t just keeping quiet. 

he’s completely stunned. 

no matter how hard you stare, you can’t seem to get a good read on his expression. he’s just standing there, face completely blank, eyes entirely obscured by the black of his shades. the light streaming in through the glass of the windows has shifted its course, falling away from the two of you — but you still see the vague, red tinge crawling up his neck. 

and as soon as you spot it, satoru begins his descent.

crouching down to the floor, silently, he brings his hands up to cover his face. feet against the ground with his knees folded, pressed against his chest, stilling as he inhales sharply. shades seated on top of his head, pushed up by his hands when he buried his face in them. a groan drops from his lips, muffled by the skin of his palms — but you can hear it clear as day.

”hold on, just… give me a minute…” he finally croaks out, words somehow tiny. almost shy. 

upon closer inspection, you realize your eyes weren’t deceiving you — there really is a red hue to his neck, one you aren’t used to seeing on him. strawberry-tinged dust, staining his smooth skin, the tips of his burning ears. satoru actually looks flustered, for once. and your heart can’t help but flutter.

— he thinks he might actually, genuinely die.

it’s a wonder, he thinks, that he managed not to fall to his knees the very moment he laid eyes on you. all dolled up; frilly and cute, in his own words, though they don’t come even close to properly describing how adorable you look right now. with your flushed face, shy eyes, and all those little frills and bows adorning your dress. rendering him speechless, clogging up his throat with pure unbridled love. a mouthful of honey, too sweet for even him to swallow.

god. god. he really, really needs to pull himself together.

crouched down like this, face hidden behind his hands, he can physically feel himself grow more and more flustered. senses invaded by the sound of his heartbeat, deep and visceral, until it’s all he can hear — he knew you were going to look cute, obviously, but he was seriously underestimating you. your cuteness is lethal. 

even just the sight makes him weak in the knees. even just the thought of you makes him feel a little like his heart is attempting to break out of his chest. hurling itself at his ribcage with ferocious resolve, like he could keel over and die of heart failure at any given moment. he’s pleasantly surprised that he’s managed to suppress the loud squeal his body keeps trying to let out, honestly.

and while satoru struggles with his deep, internal turmoil, all you can do is watch. looking down at him with wide eyes, as his skin flushes a bright pink, like little chrysanthemums blooming from his neck up to his ears. 

yeah, you think, there’s no doubt about it. satoru is flustered. it’s not a side of him you get to see very often, so you can’t help but be just slightly caught off guard. staring at him silently, until you snap out of it, eyes simmering with something soft and delighted.

he’s so cute.

(and maybe, just maybe — it makes you want to tease him, a little bit.)

so you crouch down, facing him with your knees against your chest, jaw resting on your crossed forearms as you gaze at him. he’s still not looking at you, face hidden behind his palms, shying away from your view.

and then you sigh. the sound catches his attention, soft — and just a little bit dejected.

”… you’re the one who wanted me to wear it,” your lips curl down into a pout, ”and now you won’t even look at me?”

satoru stiffens. 

(you sound sad. you sound disappointed.)

slowly, he parts his fingers, desperate to soothe you — blue eyes peeking out through the gaps, as if the sight of you could blind him. he then proceeds to move his hands, tentative, laboured, like he’s dragging heavy weights off his body. like it’s a struggle. 

with his face finally exposed, all flushed and pretty, bright azure eyes stare at you; brimming with pure adoration. 

satoru exhales, almost shaky. he has to take another moment to simply look at you, as if drinking in every inch of your expression. memorizing every corner of the face he’s grown to love so much.

a moment passes. then two.

then, he practically pounces on you — engulfing you like a tidal wave, trapping you in his big arms as they go to curl around your waist. shades falling off at the impact, hitting the floor with a soft thunk.

”you’re killing me,” he whines, loud and right by your ear. nuzzling into you, squeezing you like he’s a puppy with a chew toy. ”you’re so, so, so cute. d’you want me to have a heart attack?”

a hitch of your breath. that’s all you can manage, utterly failing to keep up with him as he presses you up against his chest. rocking you back and forth in his embrace, smearing open mouthed kisses across your skin; whining and murmuring about how adorable you look. 

a flurry of warmth, of love, of something a little too precious for words. something distinctly satoru, that makes you forget about everything else — as if the world stops spinning somewhere outside of his arms. as if that’s where you belong.

all you can do is indulge him. maybe you’re spoiling him a little too much, but it feels nice; letting him drown you in his overwhelming affection. the thought of creasing the dress doesn’t even seem to cross his mind, as he squeezes the life out of you.

evidently, satoru suffers from an acute case of cuteness aggression. 

”so adorable,” he murmurs, leaving wet kisses on your cheeks. his exaggerated mwahs make you feel just a tad shy. ”my little sweetheart. all dressed up for me.” 

squirming in his hold, he only brings you closer, smothering you in his warm embrace. the slightly erratic beating of his heart is all you can hear, with your cheek squished against his chest. arms keeping you nice and still, lips lingering over that one ticklish spot behind your ear. 

a little giggle slips from your lips, and satoru feels himself smile; wide and giddy, boyish and adoring. nuzzling into the comfort of your chest, soft fabric brushing against his skin, a low whine escapes his throat. ”can't take it. wanna put you in my pocket.”

”your pocket?” a grin blooms on your lips, words dripping with honeyed amusement. satoru grins right back.

”my pocket,” he hums, approvingly. ”you’re just so cute and small. gotta keep you close, so i don’t lose you.”

a huff, lighthearted. 

suddenly, the grip around your midriff tightens — and you’re hoisted up, stumbling a little as satoru lets go of you. still holding onto you by your wrists, softly, delicately, as if you’re made of glass. when you lift your head, all you can see is his satisfied little grin, and the twinkle of his eyes.

your heart flutters. 

satoru gazes at you, silently, still drinking you in. every second spent staring into the brightness of your eyes fills his heart up just a little more; colourful, heart-shaped candies, scooped up and poured into the hole in his chest. patching it right back up, so effortlessly sweet that it makes him want to pluck every star from the sky and offer them at your feet. 

”alright,” he breathes, taking a step back. breaking the delicate silence, a little dance between him and time. fingers still curled around your wrist. ”do a twirl for me.”

a humoured scoff. ”hell no.”

”aw, come on! you gotta pose for the photo, baby.”

before you know it, satoru’s got his phone out — and it’s aimed right at you. by the time you notice it, you’re fairly certain he’s already managed to snap a couple pictures. so all you can do is sigh, in faux exasperation.

”c’mon, c’mon,” he coos. ”give me a smile, pretty.”

a roll of your eyes, as you bite your lip to muffle a soft bout of laughter. it doesn’t really work. ”i’m good.”

satoru seems unaffected by your words, pulling back from your touch reluctantly; just so he can make a show out of playing the cameraman, switching between elaborate positions and taking pictures from angle after angle. somehow, you get the feeling he’s forgotten your request to keep the pictures to a minimum.

(he looks like he’s having fun, though. so you let it slide. just this once.)

”god. you’re way too cute for your own good, you know that?” he murmurs, leaning down to take another picture. and it flusters you, how smoothly the words slip from his lips, how it seems like he barely even has to think about them at all. 

it’s a little embarrassing, in a heart-fluttering kind of way. but you do your best to hide it.

”you’re a sap,” is all you say, soft smile playing at your lips. 

”and you’re adorable,” satoru grins. 

then he slips his phone into his back pocket, satisfied with the collection, and grabs your hand.

his fingers curl around yours, softly — and then he lifts it up. bringing it to his lips. they’re warm, as he kisses across your knuckles, the tips of your fingers. soft as a feather, tickling your skin. 

(as if he’s whispering psalms under his breath. as if he’s worshipping you.)

then he tilts his head, eyes gazing at you sweetly. sweeter than fresh mandarin slices, splotches of marmalade, his favorite caramel fudge. and his eyes crinkle, crow’s feet and dimples peeking out as he smiles, an easygoing kind of joy blooming on that pretty face of his — youthful, boyish. it suits him more than anything.

his voice comes out smooth, awfully coaxing. so very easy to give in to, paired with that breathtaking grin. 

”one tiny twirl?” he asks, politely.

he’s so annoying. 

(but you’re far too in love to say no.)

so with a single roll of your eyes, and a soft little scoff, you relent. indulging him once more, just one more time. just one little twirl.

satoru feels his heart squeeze painfully, deep within his chest, as he watches you spin around. skirt and frills ruffled by the movement. just once, a soft little twirl with your fingers intertwined. far too precious for his heart to take.

when you stop, just a tiny bit dizzy, he leans in, and the kiss he leaves on your forehead is soft. chaste, but it still pulls a blissful sigh from the back of your throat. satoru’s lips curl up against your skin, before he pulls back — eyes almost overflowing with affection.

”cutie.”

you blink. 

averting your gaze, flustering a little under the weight of his love-filled eyes, all you can do is emit a soft little huff. embarrassed, as it flows from your lips. but it only makes satoru’s smile grow further.

”okay, okay. you’ve had your fun.” you clear your throat. ”time’s up.”

suddenly, satoru’s eyes fill with something akin to dread — nose crinkling, just barely, a sign of his displeasure. ”noooo,” he whines, draping his arms around you. tugging you close. ”just a little more? please? pretty please?”

”nope! we said ten minutes. no take backs.”

”can’t i have an extension? since i’m your favorite?” satoru pouts, puppy dog eyes in full force. only this time, they don’t work as well as he’d hoped.

”nope,” you repeat, popping the p. ”sorry.” another whine buzzes right by your ear, and you smile. 

”and then we’re burning it.”

”noooo!” 

”sorry, but it’s gotta go.” you bite back a soft grin. satoru sounds agonized, voice dripping with grief, and it makes your heart dance with barely contained laughter.

”but then you can’t wear it anymore, baby…”

”that’s kinda the point, toru.”

”but you’re so cute in it,” he pouts, bringing you closer still. squeezing at your waist and rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. ”it’d be such a waste if you never wore it again, don’tcha think?”

he’s trying his best, you can tell — attempting to make you falter, coax you into wearing it just a little longer. but for today, you’re done indulging him.

”well, too bad.” nuzzling into his neck, your tone settles on a firm tilt; decisive, as you nip at his skin. just a little teasing. ”i said i’d never wear it again, and i meant it.”

a moment passes. maybe it’s the warmth of your lips on his skin, or maybe he can tell you aren’t budging — whatever the case, satoru finally seems to relent. an exhale tumbles from his tongue, deep and drawn out. ”fineee,” he drawls. ”i’ll just buy you a new one.”

”i won’t wear it. i’ll just get angry.”

”at lil’ old me? really?”

”really really,” you click your tongue. ”if you love maid outfits so much, why don’t you wear one yourself?” a beat. ”it’d look good on you.”

satoru perks up, suddenly. pulling away so his eyes can meet yours, bright and teasing, glazed over with something excited. ”oh?” he purrs. ”you wanna see me in one, huh? so bold, baby.”

a scoff slips from your lips, sharp but tinged with laughter. ”well, it’s only fair, right?” grinning up at him, your hand reaches out to smooth away his bangs. fingertips trailing across the expanse of skin, touch so very tender that his eyes flutter shut. ”i think you’d pull it off better than i ever could, anyway.”

a hum buzzes in his throat, seconds ticking by slowly; a dance with him and time. an attempt to prolong the softness of the moment.

”hmm… well, i’ll consider it.” just barely holding back a smile, he leans into your touch. ”you gotta wear it with me, though. we can buy a matching set!”

”that makes no sense,” you huff, with a raise of your brow. ”i’ve already worn it once, so next time, it’s gotta be all you.”

”sorry, baby, but you need to do it too.” he cradles you close, smoothing a palm down your spine, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. chest rumbling with the smooth timbre of his voice, words rich with teasing fondness. ”i’m too shy to do it by myself.”

and you really, really wish you could be angry with him — but it’s just impossible. 

satoru is just way too lovable, smile far too sunny and warm for you not to melt under. and his caress says more than words ever could, light and doting, careful and loving; like how a believer cups a handful of holy water. as if you could slip from his grasp at any moment, so he has to keep you extra close.

in the end, all protests and complaints die on your tongue. you only laugh, soft and breathy, filling the air with a fondness so palpable you can almost taste it. bordering on something close to a scoff, but never quite getting there. 

eventually, satoru does — begrudgingly — let you change out of the outfit. whining a little, sulking a tad, before brightening right back up again. like clockwork, the sun peeking out after a rain shower, the calm after the storm. always that same happy smile, wrapping you around his little finger.

satoru, in all his glory; your very own pocket of sunshine. annoying, stubborn, thoughtful — 

and yours, wholly and thoroughly.

(while you’re busy gazing at him adoringly, satoru grumbles under his breath. contemplation painted on his features, as his mind spins in circles. frills, bows, lace…

what kind of design would make him look the prettiest for you?)

[xazse]

Girly pop hear me out school jock scaramouche with childe’s naive sister reader 😟🤭

“DUMB VIRGINS”

Jock Scaramouche x Naive!VirginFemReader

Warnings: Nsfw, Naive!Reader, Virgin!Reader,Fem!Reader, nipplepulling, Pervert!Scara, mean!scara, not proofread, Scara is only worried about himself in this, risky sex, no condom, no foreplay: only kissing used as foreplay, cumming inside.

Notes: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, THIS REALLY HAD ME THINKING BUT THATS NOT AN EXCUSE SO I APOLOGIZE DEEPLY I HOPE UR STILL AROUND TO ENJOY IT! And also how do you guys like the new setup?

Childe had made sure everyone knew you were off limits for anything, props to Childe for being so popular. Scaramouche wonders why he wouldn’t wanna share his popularity with his little sister, well adopted sister but the way Childe describes you you’re practically his angel, even though you’re an adopted sister he still showers you with love. You’re a girl who stays to herself and should stay to herself. When Childe begins talking about you he doesn’t stop, going on for a good hour about how sweet you are, how he can never deny you of his wallet, your considerate nature, he just downright adores you.

Scaramouche has interacted with you a few times, you’re a cute shy thing, everytime he’s over Childe’s house you make an effort to say your greetings then go right back up to your room. He feels like he might just have an overblown ego but he can see the way you look at him, the way you avert your gaze when talking to him, it really is adorable.

From the little glances you steal Scara has decided he wants you, and it’s bad, so bad he finds himself wanting at night, wanting to ruin and destroy you, he wants to corrupt and fill your head with needless lies sprinkled with some truths.

So he makes an effort to always come over when Childe invites him, only invites because Childe isn’t stupid he’ll eventually catch on if Scaramouche always asks to come over, sometimes he even has to decline just to take the extra step to ensure Childe doesn’t become suspicious, it hurts his heart when he can’t see your inviting smile.

One evening when Childe does invite Scaramouche over for dinner and a movie, he obliges, thinking nothing of it because often times Childe does cook for the both of them on movie nights, but never did he expect to see you joining the two of them.

Whilst Childe is distracting himself with cooking you plop yourself only a few spots away from Scaramouche, his eyes wander over your attire, choosing to opt with a loose tank top, and some shorts, he decides then and there he’ll try something with you, it’s already evident you want him just as badly even if you haven’t verbally said it.

Both of your eyes meet for a second but he doesn’t look away this time, instead he pats the spot beside him and urges you over, you look towards the kitchen, Childe seems to be in his own world with his awful singing.

You slide over, your knee just barely brushing against his, he doesn’t deem that nearly close enough and fills in the gap of space, he’s bold when he starts to feel up the fat of your thigh, rubbing slowly and sincerely, a slight hitch in your breath eggs him on to slip his fingers In between your thighs but making sure to not overwhelm and touch you “there” immediately. The area around you both feels so warm and tense, like a thick cloud of lust slowly devouring the both of you, Scaramouche grips your cheeks and reels you in for a kiss, your first ever kiss. He’s slow at first, firmly making sure to keep his eyes on the kitchen, he presses his tongue onto yours, you clearly weren’t expecting tongue so early so an attempt to pull back is met with him holding your neck tight while he takes away your ability to breath properly.

He’s so messy with the kiss, pulling back only to force you right back in, even when drool starts to seep from the corner of your mouth he doesn’t let you go. Whines are leaving your lips in hushed intervals, out of the corner of his eye Scara can see how you’re rubbing your thighs together, trying to relieve the slight throb of your little clit, he likes this, likes seeing you so defenseless and obedient. He finally deems his bullying enough and lets you go fully.

Loud coughs fill the room, enough for Childe to step out with a worried expression and seeing Scara patting your back.

“Just a coughing fit, nothing to worry about” Scara speaks for you while rubbing the small of your back.

“Alright, you two can come eat now, just finished up plating everything.” Childe says with a beaming smile and walks back into the kitchen.

You meet scaras eyes and a big mocking sneer is on his face, he pinches your nipple hard before getting up and going to the kitchen.

Dinner is filled with Childes bolstering voice as he cracks joke after joke, with Scaramouche urging him to stop and shut up. He surprisingly ignores you the entire dinner, you know he can feel how impatient and needy you are, you give a virgin a taste of something good and they want more, even if it’s something as simple as kissing.

After dinners wrapped up and plates are cleaned, Childe insists he needs a shower, your shy eyes steal glances at Scara every so often, hinting at exactly what the two of you can do, he’s quick to give you that look back, but his is a little darker.

As soon as Childe departs it feels as though all the air is sucked from the room, you haven’t looked over properly at him once. He’s so close you can feel every breath he takes. He begins with raking his fingers up and down your shoulders, sliding up to your thin spaghetti straps, you’re expecting him to stop, to give you a moment to breathe: this is your first time after all, your head is spinning in a million directions.

He doesn’t give you a signal or anything before he’s tugging the straps down to expose your cute bralette, he deems that useless and tugs that off your shoulders as well. A gasp makes its way towards your lips and your attempt to cover yourself is met with him gripping your wrists firmly. He stares down at them for a minute, admiring just how pretty they are. He wants to take you as you are now, on display and vulnerable, while your brother is completely ignorant, but he knows he has limited time.

He knows what he’s about to do is bad, possibly risky and dangerous but he’s also not thinking very well, he just wants to be buried inside of you immediately.

Suddenly you’re being manhandled to lie on the couch, with him inbetween your legs. Letting your eyes drift you can see his cock straining against his pants. He’s lifting up your hips a little to pull your shorts around your thighs, he doesn’t want to take them all the way off just incase.

He also does the same to himself: pulling his cock out, now you really get a good look at just how big he is, more long than he is thick. His cock is a pretty tan-pink and very obviously leaking precum.

He’s also looking at your pussy, it makes him twitch a little to think about how he’ll ruin you for any other person, he’ll make sure your first time is something to remember, you’re wet from the little bit of kissing earlier, probably not as much as you should be but that’s something he can apologize for later.

He pushes your legs up towards your stomach but saving room for himself to squeeze inbetween them. He moves to stroke himself a few times, fully getting up to the expression on your face, an attempt at a brave face, he wants to wipe that right off.

He guides himself to your lips, tapping his cock against you, he teases you a little by sliding up and down between your lips again, bumping against your clit has small whimpers leaving your pretty lips.

He finds your hole, and presses against it, you’re quick to brace yourself. Him pushing hurts so bad for you but he does pause in intervals to let you breathe. Every inch is like torture for the both of you, Scaramouche finding it hard to not just shove himself deep within you, and you finding it hard to adjust to just how long he is. When he does manage to get to a good place, tears are filling your waterline, this is where he’ll stop. Poor thing, you only had a few more inches to take but he doesn’t say that out loud.

He begins fucking into you but not going past the point he had stopped, god you feel so fucking good around him, his dick twitching everytime he pushes inside your wet walls, virgins are really the best. A groan is heard from Scara, huffs as well, as he tells you just how amazing this is.

It’s starting to make you feel a little jumpy, slight electric shocks are shaking your clit, You’ve never felt like this, the pain is still there but also some pleasure can be felt.

“Shi…t..” scaras pace increases while he attempts to stay in control, you’ll be the death of him, literally. He presses your thighs loser to your shoulders successfully folding you, this lets his cock hit just a little deeper. You’re whining at this point, trying to stay quiet over Childes shower.

Your mind can only focus on him and his cock, the drag of it only deluding you more and more. He takes his fingers and rubs your clit roughly, getting a loud lewd reaction out of you. You begin tightening around him, pulling him into your heat more and more. Both of you haven’t noticed how he’s slipping in deeper an deeper, lust ridden minds only worried about cumming with each other.

His balls are slapping against your ass, this makes the room even louder minus your also loud mewling. At this point your entire pussy is feeling nothing but the urge to come, it’s so different from just rubbing your clit at night, it’s something more awful. Trying to voice on how you feel so weird to Scara is useless as all that’s spilling is moans. Soon the combined pace and clit rubbing has you pawing to get away from Scaramouche but he holds you down and fucking you meaner, and faster.

You can’t move as your body twitches on its own and your cumming all over his cock, he covers your mouth to hide your final and last yelp before your mind goes blank. The aftershocks hurt as his hips won’t stop fucking into you, his stomach hurts and tightens just like yours as he bottoms out and cums inside you.

Scaramouche taps your face a little to hear some praise about how well he did but finds that you’re fast asleep. He’s quick to situate yourself and have you looking like nothing happened, then doing the same to himself.

A few moments later Childe is out of the shower and walking to the couch.

“Aww, of course she’s the first to fall asleep” he’s quick to pat your sleeping form as light snores leave you.

[imdumbhi]

☆ ＣＡＵＳＡＬ

summary: basically what the title says lol

pairings: vi ✘ fem!reader

warnings: angst, smut

a/n: I hope you enjoy!

╰┈➤ MASTERLIST

If it wasn't for those stupid powder blue eyes, you would have known better to have walked away and not into a fucking wall.

How pathetic of you.

You were knee deep. That cut on her upper lip being the first thing you feel when her mouth collides with yours and feeling blown away by how she kisses you.

Vi kisses you like she misses you. It throws you off a bit because you never been kissed this way before. It's like experiencing a drug for the first time and wanting more because the second she pulls away from kissing you, you crave more.

How did you find her? You found her in a bar, drunk off her ass with no one around to guide her or help her as she babbles about some chick from Topside. You don't care. Yet, Vi did. 'I miss her blue hair' or 'She was so sweet', it was honestly sad. The sight of people like Vi astonishes you because you hadn't seen yourself ever being in their place.

That was foolish of you to believe.

The second you feel her fingers slide teasingly through your wet puffy folds, a moan slips from your mouth and your hips twitch towards her touch. That had your clit twitching for attention. Your glossy eyes with furrow brows then peer down, watching the pad of Vi's thumb move up to rub firmly against your clit. She kisses your gasp away and makes a circular motion.

How did you get here? She kissed you and grope your ass while trying to lead her down a dark alley.

You really couldn't help it. She was so hot.

And she wouldn't stop touching you.

The way she had touched you, taking her time and actually paying attention to how your body responds to her touches — maybe it was the whispers of sweet nothings or the kisses with something sweet and bitter. Or maybe you just don't go out much. The fact that you tried to come up with many excuses to convince yourself that what you were doing was okay when really, you would find yourself staring at a wall. Literally.

The flashes of Vi between your thighs never subsides. That memory has been playing in your head ever since she left the house Sunday afternoon. Her tongue swirling and lapping at your puffy wet folds like a hungry dog, god did she know what she was doing. Your fingers had thread through her pink hair, gripping a fistful and tugging her close to meet your grinding. Your pussy lips and clit sliding back and forth on her flat wet tongue in just the right ways.

"Good? 'Mm..." You remember her raspy voice and the look/feeling of her face when asking against your cunt, teasing your clit with a flick of her tongue and without warning teasing your slick opening. You can feel her tongue push in and push out, the pace slow but Vi kept pushing her face further. Her nose breathing heavily and pretty powder eyes staring greedy for your reaction.

Then there was this aggravating voice-

"Why the fuck are you moping and staring at the wall like that? It's weird, stop it."

"Am not."

"What? Yes you are. I can clearly see you doing it right now."

"Then fucking pretend you don't!"

"I can't! You're in the way!"

"Oh. Why didn't you say so?"

Art, your best friend ever since you were a child, sighs at you like he can't believe you're you and keeps walking by carrying a box of supplies. You and him own a shop in Zaun. It's small but pretty popular since the shop sells specific and expensive pieces of metals of all kinds. How do you get them? Art is pretty friendly and known with a Topsider, they trade a lot. You just don't know what exactly.

He comes back to find you staring but not at nothing, at someone.

"Hello, uh, did you need anything?" Art spoke for you. He then noticed the staring and mouth gaping by you.

The woman doesn't say anything. She does stare back at you.

"I'm so sorry about her." Art apologizes to the woman sincerely.

Silence falls in the shop. You can only hear faint music in the background.

"Wait, did you do something bad?" Art breaks the silence, frowning and squinting his eyes at you when he realizes the woman with pink wild hair is wearing hextech gloves. He knows you can't get that tech just from anywhere.

You break off the staring and blink, turning your head slowly over at Art with a 'what the fuck?' look when he assume you did something to break the law.

Shit is expensive and rare down here in Zaun, he thought as his eyes check the woman out. He could see how attractive and butch the woman was. She did look injured and bloody in some parts of her face but Art hasn't seen anyone like her around and if he had, he knew — he then notice your staring.

"Well did you?" He rose his brows at you.

"No!"

─── ⋆⋅𖤐⋅⋆ ───

She wanted to talk.

Talking isn't this.

Your face flush and press into Vi's shoulder, your nails digging into her back. The sound of slick and wet fills the room, along with skin to skin. The woman above you had her strong hands wrapped around your thighs, holding them as she repeatedly thrusts her hips between your thighs.

Plat! Plat! Plat! Plat!

She felt so incredibly good that it hurt. You shove your face further into her shoulder and dig your nails deeper into her tatted back. She was getting rough, angling her hips and moving deeper. She was practically hitting your cervix. It wasn't fair and she hadn't let you up once. Vi was driven to make you lose control.

"Yessss!" It's cried out and for some reason that just causes Vi to drive harder into you. Shes grunting and huffing on top looking drunk on you. The bed creaking and your eyes shaking with emotion as you watch her above. You almost forget that this is only—

The pink haired girl slips out, you, gasping confuse feel her strong hands guide your ass to straddle her lap. Your pussy glistens and swallows her fake cock in one go, Vi growls at the sight. She starts to help you ride her and you think she's deeper than before.

"That's right..." Her words tickle your skin and you can't help but ride faster, your hips moving back and forth. But then, your eyes find hers when leaning back and you instantly want to be good, better, for her. You start raising your hips and slamming them down, your hands using her shoulders for support.

Plat! Plat! Plat! Plat!

"Ffff-fuck~"

Vi curse with a long moan and with her hands, they move to your ass to grope and squeeze. You gasp at the treatment by her. You suddenly then cry out her name again when she shifts under and thrust up, your vision going white. You didn't expect that but you aren't complaining when you're near the edge.

Everything is completely perfect 'till that name slips from her mouth.

"Caitlyn!"

That's how you found yourself awkwardly stopping and climbing off her lap. You know she's embarrassed when she doesn't stop you or apologize. You could also feel how tense she had been after she said it. You grab a blanket and cover yourself, sitting at the edge of the bed.

"It's fine. Don't worry." You reassured her, tone slightly playful and light, your back turned towards her. You don't know why you said it that way or that in general when it clearly wasn't but you'll believe it because you don't get to be upset. Vi isn't your girlfriend nor will she be, you had to constantly remind yourself what you walked into.

You feel the bed behind you move and suddenly feel empty. You frown and turn your head to find Vi undoing the strap-on. You can see from her pink cheeks and narrowed brows, she was either upset or still embarrassed. Maybe both?

"Vi?"

"Can't even fucking do this without thinking about her..." You caught her muttering under her breath. She's definitely angry with the way she throws the strap across the room. She's huffing and puffing, her mouth trembling.

"Vi." You call her name softer this time.

Glistening powder blue look into your eyes and your heart flutters then twists at the reminder of the woman's clear lover. You could wonder and ask about what had happened but you don't. You wanted to help her forget even if you're left feeling used.

You offer her your hand which she glances at and hesitantly takes. You smile, pulling her back onto the bed.

"My turn."

It's only causal.

[moonstruckme]

Hi! My inbox is being evil again (it's trying to keep us apart!) and temporarily deleting the exact requests I want to find, so here's a copy+paste of the request I got and thank you so much anon :)

could you do a james x fem!reader where he helps her through a particularly bad panic attack and then just cuddles her and grounds her again? i get them all the time and the thought of the comfort just makes me feel better :,)

cw: modern au, panic attack

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 730 words

James knows it’d be no help to tell you how scared these attacks make him, but they do make him very scared. He imagines it’s not too different from your reasoning right now; he knows, ultimately, that you’ll be alright, but the thought doesn’t provide as much comfort as it should when he’s watching you with your breaths coming quick and short and your nails digging into your own palm like you can hurt yourself worse on the surface that whatever’s doing this to you. 

He starts there. Takes your hand and uncurls your fingers, threading them through his. 

“You’re okay,” he tells you, sitting on the coffee table with his knees touching yours. He shuts the computer on your lap, easing it out of your grip to move it away. “Take a breath, sweetheart.” 

If you can still hear him you show no sign of it. A tear forms in the corner of your eye, falling when you blink. He can feel your heartbeat jumping where the base of his palm rests over your wrist. 

“Can I give you a hug?” 

There, a slight nod. James curls towards you eagerly, if a bit awkwardly, his knees on either side of your thighs and sitting a bit taller than you while he rubs your back. He makes big, sweeping circles, hoping to lull you with the slow pattern. Tears slug down your cheeks in curved lines, his shirt collecting their damp masses. 

“It’ll pass, angel. It always does, yeah? I know it feels like it’s not going to get better, but it will. You’re doing so good. So, so good, my love.” 

Your breath wheezes slightly on the way in, evidence of your diligent efforts, and when it comes out a low, pained sound comes with it. James feels it deep in his throat. He increases his pressure on your back. 

“Is this okay?” he worries, then feels shitty. You’re hardly up for questioning right now. He tries to sound certain. “Focus on my hand, angel. You’re okay, I’ve got you. Take a big breath for me.” 

He feels you try, your little sob when it doesn’t go as deep as either of you want. 

“I can’t—” 

“You can, it’s alright. You’re already doing so much better, see? It’s going away.” 

This one is worse than some of the others James has sat through with you. It seems to take ages for your breathing to slow down, and a while after that until he feels your heart find a somewhat normal rhythm under his palm. 

He knows you’re with him, more present, when you move your legs to give him easier access to you. James adjusts eagerly, giving you a proper hug. Your crying is less stilted now. He never thought he’d be so relieved to hear you sniffle and weep on his shoulder. 

“There you are,” he sighs, holding you tight. “You did it, sweetheart.” 

“James,” you whimper. 

“I know, but you’re okay. Keep breathing nice and deep,” he reminds you, worried another one will start up. “You made it. Now all you have to do is take it easy for a while.” 

“Thank you.” Your voice is a soft, small thing. It encourages James back from you, though only far enough to see your face. One tear hangs from your bottom lashes like a dewdrop from a petal. When he kisses beneath your eye it transfers to his skin. 

“No thanks necessary.” He kisses you on your other cheek, just to make it even. “You did all the hard work yourself.” 

“Still,” you say, a bit wobbly, “thanks.” 

James frowns. He allows himself to stop rubbing that same endless circle on your back, brushes a piece of hair away from your face. “Anytime,” he tells you sincerely. 

The worst of your crying seems over, but the look you give him suggests you might start again. James likes to think of himself as a man unafraid of tears and strong emotions; he’ll let you cry all night if that’s what you need. Still, he’d prefer to avoid it. 

“How do you feel?” he asks quickly. “Do you want some water? We could go for a walk, it might help to be outside.” 

You don’t want to do either of those, but you do consent to another hug. Which, really, is a better outcome than he’d dared to hope for. 

[loveinhawkins]

Steve grabs the bag before Eddie can. “No, I’ve got it.”

Eddie glances at the transparency of the plastic bag: the outline of his battle vest pokes through it, neatly folded.

He sidesteps the rest of the group as they troop out of the RV. Steve’s still standing his ground by the driver’s seat.

“Uh, Steve, I can see what’s in there. That’s mine.”

“Yeah, but—” Steve huffs, still holding the bag tightly, and he almost seems… embarrassed. “Like, just. Don’t look at it right now, I’ve got it. I’m gonna dry clean it. Later, I mean.”

Eddie laughs. But Steve remains deadly serious.

“Uh, that’s nice and all, but I don’t think dry cleaning gets out… um, blood and…” Eddie pokes his head out the RV door, to where the kids are hauling weapons and tanks of lighter fluid with Robin and Nancy—a sight he steadfastly tries to ignore before he panics ad nauseam—and asks, “What’s your word for, uh, Upside Down related, uh, you know—”

“Slime?” Lucas offers.

“Sludge,” Erica corrects.

“Goop,” Max says decisively.

“Shit,” Dustin says.

Eddie nods. “Helpful, thanks.”

He turns back. He’d intended for all that to get Steve to crack a smile at least, but if anything, he looks worse; the expression on his face has shifted into evident guilt.

“Steve,” Eddie says, caught between being amused and… honestly, touched. “Relax. It’s fine, man.”

Steve keeps frowning. “But it was—”

“—not important.”

Steve huffs again, like he’s saying don’t lie.

Eddie changes tack. He hasn’t missed the fact that Steve’s change of clothes from The War Zone means that, sure, less skin’s on show, which is probably better for Eddie’s heart but, more importantly, his bandages are ‘conveniently’ concealed—which is decidedly less good for Eddie’s heart, so maybe they both cancel each other out.

If ever there was the time for sincerity…

“Maybe I care less about the damn vest, and more about the person wearing it.”

The pinch in Steve’s brow lessens. “Oh,” he says, soft, and then a little of his usual bravado comes back when he asks, “you sure?”

Eddie waggles a hand back and forth. “Kinda. It’s borderline.”

Steve chuckles. He puts the bag down on his seat, very carefully, as if it’s breakable, and Eddie’s heart does a little skip.

“Well. I still feel bad,” Steve insists. His tone’s light, but he fixes Eddie with a pointed look, don’t test me on this, Munson, ‘cause my stubbornness will win.

“Okay,” Eddie concedes, hands up in surrender. “Tell you what, Steve. What if I wore something of yours, to make it even?”

Steve wrinkles his nose, but he’s smiling. “What, and deliberately mess it up?”

Eddie nods gravely. “Like, it’s not quite Upside Down conditions, but whenever I cook, it gets pretty close.”

Steve’s smile grows. He makes a show of turning around in search of something.

“Huh, I must’ve forgot to pack my wardrobe.”

Eddie clicks his tongue in theatrical disapproval. “Yeah, that’s a pretty big oversight, dude, should’ve thought it through.”

“Guess it’ll have to wait for next time.”

And yeah, they’re joking, but still. Eddie doesn’t want to tempt fate.

“Next time? Nah, I’m praying all this shit is a one time thing.”

“No, I meant—” Steve hesitates, like he’s inadvertently stepped out of the joke, and he doesn’t know where to go from here. “Like. Whenever you come round.”

“Is that an invitation?” Eddie says; he hopes the quip is enough to cover his surprise, the long-buried thought—ridiculously high school, but true in spite of it: no-one’s ever invited me to…

Steve rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Oh, sorry, did you want it hand-written? The red carpet treatment?”

“Well, if you’re offering…”

“I’ll go get my quill,” Steve deadpans.

Eddie laughs. Says, only partly kidding, “It’s just, I’ll need some time to think it over.”

“The… invitation?”

“What item of clothing I’m taking, duh.”

“Right, yeah,” Steve scoffs, “major decision.”

“It is! You have whole ensembles, man.”

“Ensembles,” Steve echoes, but it’s got more of a French accent to it; Eddie suspects it’s a by-product of Steve helping Robin study, ‘cause she seems to be the only one who’s a polyglot in their contingent. “Get out of town, Munson.”

“Oh, like you don’t know. I swear, in winter, there’d be actual bets placed on what sweater you were gonna wear each day.”

“Uh-huh.”

Eddie hams it up, “Didn’t you wonder why so many girls were waiting to see you drive into school?”

“You’re an idiot,” Steve says, and he waves Eddie aside, about to jump out of the RV. “Lemme know when you’ve made your selection.”

Eddie knows he should leave it there. They’ve had their laughs, and it’s made to be forgotten about in the face of much more important things.

But that’s always been his problem, really. He can’t bite his tongue in time. He can’t help—

“The red one?”

Steve turns around, one foot off the step. “What?”

“The, uh…” Eddie clears his throat. It’s either say nothing or go all in. Fuck it, the shire’s burning. “I’ve decided what to—um. The red sweater?” Steve just keeps looking at him, so he adds, tentatively, “The one you’d wear near winter break?”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, I know the one you mean.” He falters on the verge of speech, his lips twitching into a surprised little smile. He drawls, “You sure you weren’t placing those bets yourself, Munson?”, but it doesn’t sound mean, and his ears suddenly look a little pink, and maybe, maybe—

“No comment,” Eddie says, aiming for comically flat, but Steve’s smile is contagious.

“Okay, it’s a deal.” Steve steps outside—throws over his shoulder, “It’s yours,” oddly sincere; and Eddie wonders if they’ve really been talking about clothes at all.

[catssluvr]

𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒚, spencer reid

spencer x fem!reader

spencer likes you and your 'silly' books <3

warnings: r is insecure about her books?, r reads fantasy, so much fluff (usual)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You sat quietly on your assigned seat at the jet, book comfortably perched on your lap. It was usual for you to curl up on your seat and read on the way back, you made sure to keep a book inside your go bag.

Your go to was a good fantasy book, you found them helpful to get your mind off of work for a bit. You got to be on your own world, no real life worries.

It would be a lie to say it didn't feel quite silly sometimes. Every time your co-workers were holding a book it always felt like theirs was way more intellectual, while you were there reading books about 'fairies and magic'. You were necessarily reading about those but it sure felt as foolish as that.

It's probably why your seat was situated in the corner further way from everyone, or maybe you just liked your own company. You weren't sure.

A sudden movement beside you caused you to jump slightly, closing the book in front of you and covering most of it's cover with your hands.

"Sorry, i didn't mean to scare you." Spence. Your adorably sweet and nervous boyfriend. Your relationship was still fresh, what most would call the honey moon phase. You didn't think you ever wanted leave it. Only one month of being his girlfriend was enough to make you realize you wanted it for the rest of your life. Besides, he was your friend way before that.

"It's okay, Spence." You smiled at the way he was standing awkwardly, obviously meaning to ask you if he could sit down beside you. You pated the sit gently and that was all it took for him to jump next to you, shoulder purposely brushing against yours.

"What're you reading?" He eyed the book in your hands curiously.

"Oh- it's nothing, not really your type." You said.

"I'm sure it's interesting anyway, angel." He smiled softly, hand reaching out to rub your knee in a comforting way.

"It's silly..." You mumbled, but your hands moved away from the book, letting him have a full view of it.

"What's there to be silly about it?" His eyebrows furrowed in pure confusion, fingers interlocking with yours and gently squeezing your hand.

"Spencer. You read classics in russian, that sure as hell is way more educational than this." You pointed out.

"Do you really think that matters to me?" He asked, doe eyes refusing to break contact with yours.

"Well- no? I guess i just started to overthink." You scrunched your nose in embarrassment.

"I think you should read whatever you find interesting. Besides, there's really nothing silly about them." He was nothing but sincere, lips meeting your cheek for a quick kiss.

"I'm sorry." You smiled shyly, head dropping to his shoulder in hopes of hiding your warm cheeks.

"No need to." His arm swiftly wrapped around your shoulders, bringing you to lean against him. "Can i read with you? Didn't bring any books with me." It was a white lie, but he really did want to learn more about your interests. And if that included getting to cuddle up with you, he would do it in a heartbeat.

"'Course" You pulled your legs up to his lap, cheek smudged against his shoulder as you opened your book. His other hand reached to grab your calf, squeezing it before settling there.

"For the record, your silly books make me like you even more." He joked but somehow you knew he meant it.

"I like you too, Spence. Lots." You pressed a lingering kiss to his neck, not missing the way he shivered at the touch before returning to your previous position.

Sharing your own little world with him didn't feel like such a bad idea.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

a/n: so tiny but i enjoyed writing it sm <33 for all of my fantasy readers out there

love you,

cat 🤍

[elssero]

Can we get a part 2 to best friends big sister, cuz that was the shit

yes u definitely can !!

best friends big sister part 2

i.midoriya

♰ nsfw/suggestive, more sub!izuku + a little angst, fluff.

part1

watching izuku and his mother leave your family home puts a weird feeling in your chest, you’ll miss him you think.

you recall the events of the night when you entire your room. you smile slightly as you look at your bed- the dip he left in your covers still evident.

deciding to shower in the morning you change into something more comfortable- your distracted by a buzz from your phone and you pick it up, already having a good idea about who it could be.

it’s izuku of course- letting you know that they got home save and thanking you for the night, it’s innocent enough. reading the message you don’t find any undertones and you sigh in relief-

your not allowed peace for too long before your interrupted by a knock on your door. it’s katsuki- you can tell by the volume of his knocks that he’s in a bad mood. you let him in anyway.

he glances around your room for a second, almost as if looking for something and when he doesn’t find whatever it is he starts to speak.

“you gna’ tell me what the fuck tonight was with that nerd?” you’d laugh at his childish nickname if his voice wasn’t laced with so much venom- he’s angry, in fact you haven’t seen him this angry since he was a teenage.

“i have absolutely no idea what your talking about kats” you try and sound sincere but to katsuki it just comes off as mocking- something happened tonight and he knows it. not only have you snuck around with one of his friends your also lying about.

“don’t fuckin’ lie to me-” he cuts himself off. he knows that there’s no way your going to be honest with him if he’s this angry at you- he can’t blame you. deciding to take a different route he begins again. “m’ not gna’ be angry at you i just- fuck i just need you to be honest with me.”

you stare at him for a moment- going over your options you decide you have two. the first being is being honest with him- telling him exactly in not so many details that you slept his izuku during a family dinner. the second being to deny deny deny.

“kats i swear-“ your cut off again by another buzz of your phone- both of your eyes snap down to your phone, he can’t quite read the name but you can. the conatct “izuku :p” now staring back at you.

“who the fuck is texting you at this time” he says it absentmindedly at first before his face quickly changes into one of rage again. “it’s fuckin’ him isn’t it.”

you don’t reply to him- face still staring down at your screen. you know your caught- he’s going to reach down for your phone any second and he’s far too fast for you to stop him- you can only hope izuku’s second message is as innocent as his first.

just as you predicted he lunges for your phone- turning it to face you as he unlocks it with your face id- he reads the first message aloud, slowing down at the end as he realises izuku is just being nice.

he stops abruptly after that- reading the second message in his head before saying it aloud, his voice dripping with the same venom from before.

“what the fuck does he mean by the ‘other thing’ and what the actual fuck does he mean by next time.”

oh shit.

izuku is still in a state of shock as your door closes- he almost skips home that night. wide smile on his face as he walks hand held with his mothers as he guides her home in her drunken state.

unlocking their apartment door he immediately sends his mother to bed- she doesn’t protest much, apart from telling him he’s no fun and sending him a goodnight.

the boy is nearly floating as he gets ready for bed- eager to message you a well deserved thank you.

he studies his first message- deciding to keep it light, it’s very late now and he’s aware you might even be asleep, deciding he doesn’t want you to wake up tomorrow morning with some sort of sext from him.

you read it immediately and his smile grows wider- he awaits your reply, excited to begin another conversation with you as if he hasn’t been sat hand in yours for the past couple of hours.

the cheerful reply he was hoping for doesn’t come. infact no reply comes at all and suddenly there’s a pit in his stomach.

he gives you a couple of minutes before he can’t contain himself anymore and sends you another- his face going bright red as he types it- deleting and rewriting it a couple times before he hastily presses send before he can doubt himself anymore.

it’s nothing crazy- not by your standards but to him it’s the single most suggestive? thing he’s ever sent to a girl and he’s freaking the fuck out.

izuku :p: i also wanted to thank you for the other thing…i really enjoyed it. i had a really good time with you tonight. if you were serious about there being a next time im free next weekend.❤️

you snatch your phone from katsuki’s hand to read the message yourself- you curse midoriya for being so sweet because you can’t help the fact the panic falls from your face as you reach the end of the message- instead being replaced by a small smile on your face.

“so you did fuck him.” your snapped back to reality by the rough sound of your brothers voice. he doesn’t sound angry anymore- instead it’s replaced by hurt.

you should’ve known izuku was completely off limits, you think a small part of you did know, only making the guilt you feel for betraying your brothers trust even stronger.

“m’ sorry kats-” he doesn’t respond. instead turning on his heel as he leaves your room in lightening speed- nearly taking your door off its hinges at the power he uses to slam it.

izuku’s message is left unreplied as you slip into your bed after watching your brother leave- you know better than to follow him as he is now. you’ll talk about it later when your both in better headspaces.

class the next day is hell for both boys- katsuki arrives early as always. settling into his desk as he listens to his idiot friends talk his ear off about their weekends. he’d quite like to ignore the events of his own weekend but his dream is cut short when he watches izuku stumble into the door.

he looks more tired than usual- somehow managing to appear even more nervous than he normally does. bakugo watches as the other boy attempts to quickly make his way to his desk without being interrupted.

“hey midoriya my man!” its kaminari who’s the first to speak to the boy “heard you had dinner at bakugos this weekend- you see his sister?” katsuki’s eyes roll as midoriya’s face flushes- it’s like he’s not even trying to hide it.

he can’t even form a response to denki’s question as imagines of the night before flash in his mind. he takes a quick, guilty look at bakugo before ultimately turning away from his friends and hiding in his chair.

he’s stressed. infact he’s beyond stressed. you didn’t reply to either of his messages last night despite seeing them both. he’s contemplated sending you another every second he’s been awake but ultimately decides against it, he’s giving you time.

the boys spend the rest of the day ignoring each other- well bakugo ignores the other and midoriya thanks the gods everytime he watches the blonde practically run away from him.

it’s not until their journey home when the boys are finally alone- no more corners to turn away at, no more walls to hide behind.

“um- hi kacchan..” he doesn’t know what else to say- it’s not exactly like he can come straight out and ask his friend why his sister is ignoring him after they slept together in his house. at his family dinner.

bakugo takes his time replying- trying his hardest to hold himself back from pummelling the shorter boy into the ground.

“you slept with my sister.” oh. so that’s why you haven’t spoken to him. bakugo knows. he’s known the entire time. he’s known since he watched you two leave the dinner table last night.

“i’m sorry kacchan- i don’t know how it happened i promise i didn’t mean too-”

“god will everyone stop fucking saying that?” he’s angry- but it’s more than that. midoriya recognises it immediately- he’s hurt.

“if you two were so fuckin’ sorry it wouldn’t have happened in the first place” he’s right and midoriya knows he’s right. the guilt he feels currently is unlike anything he’s ever felt.

“but it did happen. so know i wanna know what you plan to do about it.” the shorter boy looks at the boy in bewilderment- what he plans to do about it? he thinks about it deeply.

he’s already came to the conclusion that it couldn’t have been as big of a deal to you as it was to him. it wasn’t your first time and it certainly wasn’t the case that you had been borderline inlove with him since you were six. you didn’t feel the same.

“i guess- i um. i really don’t know. i just kinda thought id let her do what she wanted.” there’s a small hint of pain in his voice as he says it. “take whatever i can get i guess.”

bakugo studies the boy for a second. truly wishing his suspensions about his friends feelings for you had been overdramatised in his head.

they aren’t though. midoriya is completely and utterly smitten by you and he has been for as long as he can remember. bakugo lets out a long sigh before he admits something.

“my sister doesn’t just sleep with anyone y’know” suddenly the other boys eyes snap to his- “shut up- don’t fuckin’ look at me like that.”

“i know what your thinking alright? that last night wasn’t serious for her- or that she doesn’t actually feel anything for you-” he curses at himself- how has he found himself helping stupid fuckin’ deku get with his stupid fuckin’ sister.

“but that’s not true- you know how everyone thinks about her- fuck you heard denki this morning-” both boys grimace slightly at the memory of denki blabbering about how he would do anything to share a mealtime with you.

“but she’s never slept with any of them- not a single one of my friends before. she flirts yeah but she always draws the line.” he doesn’t understand it fully- when you could’ve had any of them, you could’ve had kirishima or sero- god even denki would’ve been better than the boy standing next to him.

“i don’t know what it is about you that made her cross that line but it’s gotta’ be somethin’.”

midoriya looks at bakugo in amazement. he doesn’t say it openly but he knows the boy walking next to him well enough to know he’s giving permission. that in his own weird way he’s urging the midoriya to give you it a proper chance.

“i have plans with shitty hair for the next couple of hours- my parents are away so it should be you two.” midoriya is even more shocked now? he wants him to go see you? now?? alone??

“god- stop lookin’ at me like that- i didnt mean it like that. i meant to talk to her for fucks sake.” oh that makes more sense.

it doesn’t take much convincing- midoriyas quickly finds himself practically running to your house following a quick shout of a thanks to his childhood friend as he makes his way to you.

the knock on your door is impossible to ignore- forcing you out of bed to open it. you haven’t moved much, allowing yourself a day to wallow in self pity before continuing with your life.

you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t though of izuku all day. you thought of his face- of his stupid smile- of the stupid way he looks at you as if you constantly have some sort of halo above your head.

your completely shocked to find the boy you’d just been thinking about standing in your doorway- he’s panting heavily. it’s clear that he’s catching his breath from the sheer speed he used to make his way to your home.

“what are you doing here?” it’s a simple question but you know the answer is a lot more complicated than you’d like.

“i just- i had to see you.” still catching his breath as he replies- he’s looking directly at you- the expression on his face is one you would use if you hadn’t seen the person in front of you in years. it does kind of feel like that.

“and- i had to do this.” his lips crash on to yours before you can question his next move. he’s eager- he kisses you like he’ll never get the chance again, he thinks that maybe he won’t.

he savours every moment, every move of your tongue, every feel of your touch.

you break the kiss as you pull him inside- slamming the door behind you as your corner the boy against it-

“talk.” he squeaks at the sound of your voice- it’s harsh, powerful. he doesn’t quite know what to say? god why didn’t he think of this on the way over? he doesn’t have the time to reprimand himself for being stupid right now so instead he says the only thing he’s thought of when he looks at you for years.

“i love you.” it’s quiet when you hear it, you can’t tell if his volume is really that low or if your head has muffled all sound coming from his mouth.

“you do?” it’s a whisper as it leaves your voice- your not an idiot, you know the boy infront of you has been pining over you since you were kids. you just didn’t know how serious it was for him.

“i- i do. with everything in me i do. i think i always have.” you remain silent. fully taking in the weight of his words. it’s clear as day now that you think about it- you can’t believe you brushed off how he felt to a stupid crush.

your gaze is unwavering as you scan his face- inspecting it for any hint of regret. you don’t find it- instead you find him looking at you with nothing but love.

you kiss him again- moving so harshly against him that his back collides with the door behind him as he scrambles too kiss you back.

the kiss is impatient. as though every moment you’ve ever spent together as been leading up to this moment- it doesn’t compare to yesterday- not now that you know the truth.

his hands explore your body in ways they didn’t yesterday- he’s holding you so tight you think it might leave marks- not that you mind.

you try not to break the kiss as the pair of you messily clamber your way though your house and into your bedroom.

he’s already submitted to you as you move to remove the shirt that’s restricting your access to him- finally removing your lips from his as you slide it over his head- taking a minute to admire his physique.

he’s big- a lot bigger than you anyway- excitement fills your stomach as you struggle to remove your own clothing from your body.

your braless- he didn’t notice it before but he definitely does now, he can’t take his eyes away from your bare chest infront of him as he dips down without thinking.

you feel his mouth on your tits in an instant as he kisses them- light feathery touches changing into hard sucks in a matter of seconds- now your certain he’s leaving marks.

he laps at your chest over and over- you can’t help the slight gasp you realise when he sucks down on your nipple- he looks up at you wide eyed following the noise you let escape before he’s crashing down on your tits- continuing his attack.

you grab a handful of his hair in order to stop him- forcing him to look at you- his eyes meet yours with a look of carnality, pulling him into another kiss as you fumble with the buttons on his trousers.

“fuck, i-" your breathless, his face is flushed and his pupils blown. "need you inside, need to feel you." he replies with a groan.

you each clumsily remove your pants as your faces touch, both of your mouths agape as you practically breathe the same air.

his brain goes fuzzy and you dizzily watch him pull down his boxers, the length slapping against his stomach as it’s released from its confines.

you don’t waste anytime situating yourself on top of him, grabbing his dick as you move it against the outside of your pussy, pressing it against your clit as your head falls back in a moan.

“oh- oh fuck s-stop teasing ohmygod please put it in- oh pleaseplease”

he’s moaning so pretty as you give in and slide him into you, allowing your weight to fall on him as you sink as low onto him as you can. he’s already a mess under you- babbling out thank yous. it turns you on so much seeing how desperate he is for you. already addicted to your pussy and the way it sucks him like a vice.

“f-feels soso good ngh fuck- don’t ever want another pussy- only you- only ever been you-” you giggle at his praise- beginning to roll yourself down on him.

you have him exactly where you want him- where you’ve wanted him since the second he walked into your kitchen weeks ago-

you’ve never quite felt desire like this before, sure you’ve had sex but this is different, it feels almost biological- like he was made for you.

your thoughts are cut off when he cries out from beneath you- “oh- f-fuck m’ gonna cum- wanna cum for you so bad!” oh lord. you can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth as they go straight to the heat in your abdomen.

“you wanna cum for me baby?” your egging him on- as though you know exactly what to say to put him on the edge of his realise- “yesyesyes please- can i? can i come for you please-”

gasps and whimpers falling from izuku's parted lips as his head is thrown back. was all sex this good??

“cum for me zuku’” and he lets go on command, cumming inside as soon as you tell him too. his parted lips as his voice rings out your name and his hips jump instinctively with every bounce you make.

your movements don’t falter as he orgasms- keeping a steady pace as you ride it out. it’s not long before he’s making noise again- begging below you.

“w-wait ! s’too much!” his thighs are shaking below you- his whole body straining as he attempts to keep himself together- he’s failing miserably.

a flow of whines and moans leave his mouth and he continues on about how you feel too good- how it’s too much for him.

“you can give me another right izuku?” his eyes close tightly shut as he feels your pace increase- he knows it’s coming- he nods quickly.

this feeling of overstimulation is foreign to the boy, he’s so used to just getting it over with that he’s never gave himself the time to feel this good.

“cum in my pussy again zuku i need it-” he lets out a cry when he cums for the second time- physically lifting you off of him as his dick twitches-

you watch as the cum shoots from his tip landing on his chest with a heavy sigh-

your thighs move together instinctively and the movement doesn’t go unnoticed by izuku who is now looking at you lazily.

“you didn’t cum.” he sounds dejected as he says it- you don’t want him to feel bad- it’s harder for you-

“no i didn’t. but it’s okay i promise sometimes it takes awhile-” you smile at him as you say it in an attempt to make him feel better. he’s pouty.

“wanna’ make you feel good.” you giggle at him- he moves his hands to the inside of your thighs and pulls your legs apart- giving him a full few of your cum dripping pussy.

he lets out a whimper at the sight- head dropping towards your core- he approaches fast- nose hitting your clit as he takes a deep breath in-

“izuku it’s okay u don’t have too.” you move your hand in his hair comfortingly- not wanting him to feel pressured.

“you said i could last time- you promised” when you think back on it you don’t quite remember using the word “promise” but your not given the time to confirm it before his tongue leaves his mouth and licks your slit.

he eats you out like he’s starved- it’s sloppy, clear as day that he’s never done this before but it feels so good- your in awe at the boy situated under you, watching him as he moved impossibly deeper into your pussy.

your breath hitches as he sucks down ok your clit- a loud moaning leaving your lips as your head falls back. he groans into you when he hears the noise escape your lips as he begins eagerly sucking on that same spot.

he’s murmuring sweet nothings into you as he continues- “tastes so good- f-fuck you taste so good.” your mouth is fully agape now- unable to to hold in your groans.

“y-yeah? my pussy taste good baby? ngh- you wanna make me cum?-” he nods into your pussy in reply- sucking down even harder when he hears your words.

your back uncontrollably arches as he continues- his pace unfaltering as your thighs squeeze around his head- the action only drawing a whine from the boy situated between them.

his hands are wrapped around them- his hands digging into the softness of your thighs as he holds them apart- allowing himself full access to you.

“oh f-fuck- your doing so well zuku- gna’ make me cum baby-” your cut off as a whine of your own escapes your lips.

he’s drowning in your pussy as you finally cum- he’s whispering out thank yous as you finish in his mouth.

your catching your breath as your attempting to pull him up towards you- forcing him face to face with you.

you don’t exchange words as you manoeuvre your way under your covers- taking his hand in yours as you guide him to lay down beside you.

you pull his head to your bare chest as he lays down on you- eyes shutting as he lets out a comfortable but sleepy sigh.

he begins another whisper- “i’m sorry if this ruins the moment but- what does this mean?” his eyes are opened again now as he looks up at you- fearful of rejection.

“we’ll work it out- but um- i don’t want this to stop and uh- i’d like to spend more time with you iguess.” he nearly giggles at how much you remind him of your brother in this moment- struggling to put into words how you truly feel as you hope the boy will understand.

he does- of course he does. not feeling a need to reply he doesn’t as he cuddles into you, easily drifting to sleep as he finds much needed comfort in your body.

it’s hours later when you find yourself now fully clothed in your kitchen again- taking leftovers out of your fridge as you hear the opening of your door.

you poke your head round the corner to reveal katsuki- you give him a soft smile as he makes his way over to you after shuffling out of his shoes.

“the nerd upstairs?” your smile goes even softer as you tell him yes. he returns your smile now- except his is a lot more teasing than yours is.

“so- uh how’d it go?” bakugo would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested- hoping to god that it went well as he grimaces at the thought of watching izuku sulk forever as he did today.

“we worked it out.” is all the reply you give- all the reply he needs, an identical now softer smile grazing his lips as he nods at you.

“you’ll work it out-” he pauses slightly before continuing- wrapping a protective arm around your shoulder before he continues “m’ sure you will”

the end? idk i quite like the ending of this being a little ambiguous, i might make a little drabble of your parents finding out about ur relationship with izuku but im undecided.

[pastanest]

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

A/N: I am currently obsessed w the premise of a reader who is just totally smitten by the super shy and introverted Reid from early seasons bc he deserved SO MUCH MORE APPRECIATION it upsets me at least thrice a day!

gif creds: @themoontaxi

Heaven Sent

“There’s an old Buddhist saying that, when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making.” Spencer tells you with a thoughtful expression as you perch on his desk, smiling down at him in his office chair, your heart lifting in your chest as he continues. “So always appreciate and be kind to each other - there’s a corollary for friends!” And just like that, your heart falls back into place, but your smile doesn’t falter, there’s no way that it can when you’re still looking at him. “When you meet a true friend, you will be bound together through space and time for 500 years.” Spencer ends his tidbit of trivia with a smile that very nearly sends you flying from his desk and into orbit.

As per usual, you try to keep your cool, offering him a beaming smile. “Bound together through space and time for 500 years, eh? For a Buddhist quote, that does sound a bit Doctor-Who.” You tease lightly, and when Spencer’s eyes crinkle with a laugh that you have brought him, you feel all 500 years spent drifting through space to find him, smack you right in the chest.

“It does, actually, you make a great point!” Your favorite genius chuckles up at you, a look in his eyes that has you reaching the same conclusion to the age-old philosophical question of whether heaven is real, because every time Spencer Reid looks you in the eye, you know you could argue to the ends of the earth with any philosopher that tries to tell you it isn’t. 

“Alright, Doc, I’m gonna go take a scheduled pee break but I expect another fascinating fact from you on my return!” You order playfully as you hop off of his desk, never any malice or sarcasm in your voice when you regard his seemingly endless knowledge. Spencer feels the sincere love you have for his facts, something few people have shown him. 

“I’ll try my best, but I can’t promise anything!” Spencer calls after you as you stroll towards the bathroom, your phone already in your hands, frantically typing a few texts to your best friend.

You: good god

You: I want him

You: so bad

Spencer’s retort catches you off guard, your thumbs slipping on your phone as you turn to look back at him, walking backwards and continuing to type without looking. 

“Spencer Reid, if there is ever anything that you can promise me, it’s a new fact with a few minutes prep, don’t lie to me!” You joke right back to him, the two of you sharing a laugh across the office as you reach the bathroom and disappear behind the door.

As you lean against the bathroom door, you release the breath you were holding in your lovesick chest and smile so hard your face hurts. In the midst of your recovery from such a wholesome interaction with your favorite person, you hit send on the text you’d typed, your eyes closed as you relive Spencer’s smile again and again.

You: it physically hurts

Then, your phone makes a peculiar sound that causes your heart to sing. Spencer’s text tone, specially selected so that you never get your hopes up at anyone else’s text tone coming through. As if your thoughts summoned him, Spencer has texted you, despite the fact you were speaking to him mere seconds ago. However, as you glance down at your phone to see his message, your blood runs cold. Much to your absolute horror, you have somehow managed to send that last message you typed and sent without looking, not to your best friend like the previous messages, but directly to the subject of the conversation.

Spencer: What physically hurts? Are you okay? Do you need help? 

The panic response in your body is so real it’s scary, every fiber of your being screaming in utter hysteria as you run your hand through your hair with eyes like a deer in headlights. This is the worst possible mistake to have made, but, maybe you can white-lie your way out of this, since that message didn’t mention Spencer by name. Frantically, you type out your response back to him.

You: Spencer I am so sorry omg Im fine that message was not meant for you 

Nodding to yourself, you take some deep breaths. Spencer is never one to invade a person’s privacy outside of it being professionally required to do so and by revealing so little in your reply, you are communicating that the matter is private and was unintentionally, partially revealed to him. 

Spencer: Oh, okay. Still, if you are in any kind of pain, please let me know; if there is anything I can do to help/anything I can get you, I will.

And, of course, Doctor Spencer Reid manages to make you smile like an idiot with such a simple, sweet text.

You: thanks, Spence, that’s really kind of you. Im ok tho, I promise!! :)

Spencer: Hold on, you went to the bathroom and complained of pain - is it your menstrual cycle? I have towels and tampons in my desk.

Your eyes widen at his boldness, but also sweetness, to ask such a thing. How cute, he thinks you’re embarrassed to admit to him that you are on your period and not at all completely humiliated by your massive crush on him, almost being exposed in its entirety because you were, ironically, distracted by him.

You: nono, trust me, Im ok!! 

Frowning in sudden confusion, you are quick to type out another text before Spencer responds to your first one.

You: why do you have those?

Spencer: I am a doctor, I work with people who menstruate and should not have to pay for such things if I have some that I can provide for free. 

And he has you smiling like a lovesick idiot. Again. 

You: wow, that’s really sweet Spence :’)

Spencer: Is It? Thank you! B)

Another confused frown furrows your brow as you stare at your phone screen quizzically.

You: what’s “B)”

Spencer: Sunglasses face. A cool guy. B) 

God bless this man and his total inability to use actual emojis, you are having to stifle your laughter with a hand over your mouth because otherwise you are certain the entire office would hear you.

You: omg of course it is! so cute!!

Spencer: B)

The second you see it on your screen again, you are trying to contain your laughter a second time. His ability to be completely and utterly adorable is unmatched.

Spencer: You have been in the bathroom for some time and have not yet clarified the reason for texting someone that you were in physical pain. Are you absolutely certain that you are alright? 

Panic begins to set in again as you consider your options, none of which including confessing the truth from within the bathroom stall you are hiding in.

You: look, I cant tell you the reason I texted that but I promise you I am absolutely fine!! 

The moment the ‘read’ symbol appears by your last text, there’s a knock at the bathroom door.

“Hey sweetpea, boy-wonder told me you were in some kind of pain, is everything alright in there? Do you need a tamp? A hot water bottle? Some soup? A-” While your dear friend, Penelope Garcia, continues to list things that you could possibly need, through the bathroom door, you are frantically typing to Spencer again.

You: did you send Pen over here

He responds diligently, of course.

Spencer: I am sorry if I have breached your privacy at all, I thought you might feel more comfortable talking to Penelope about whatever is going on, but I hope you know you can always talk to me about anything.

Sighing and closing your eyes in a pained blink, you call out. “I’m fine, Pen, seriously!”

But, ever the carer of the team, Penelope will not let that slide. “Well, I’m not leaving until you come out here and prove it to me.”

Now, you are physically and emotionally cornered. There is absolutely no way that Penelope will let you out of here without an explanation, and there is absolutely no way that you can lie to her, either. Alright, time to bite the bullet.

“Pen…if I come out, you must promise to take me straight to your office and I’ll tell you everything, but you cannot tell a soul, okay?” You ask her through the door, and you can practically hear the gossip-loving cogs in her brain turning on the other side.

“You got it, sweetness! C’mon out!” Penelope calls, and you take a deep breath, shoving your phone in your back pocket before unlocking the door and stepping back into the office.

Immediately, Penelope swings an arm around you and leads you to her office with haste. All the while, you can feel a certain pair of very attractive, swoon-inducing eyes on you, worrying after you.

The second you are alone together in her office, Penelope sits you down and pulls her chair up to sit opposite you, taking ahold of your hands.

“Spill it!”

You sigh, avoiding her eyes. “This is about to be the most humiliating confession of my life.”

Penelope’s eyes widen, her pupils practically dilating at the raised stakes of what this gossip could entail. “No, no, come on, this is a safe space!”

You nod. “I know, I know, but…admitting aloud to any member of the team is something I hoped I’d avoid forever.” You chuckle in disbelief. “Basically, I was texting my friend some very private things and then got distracted by Spencer and accidentally sent him one of the texts- it’s probably just easier if I show you.” You decide, retrieving your phone and showing her the texts you had originally been sending to your best friend, then the one you accidentally sent to Spencer. 

Penelope’s jaw drops. “Oh my goodness! Who are you talking about in those texts?!”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Go on, Pen, take a guess. Who is the one person I wouldn’t want to find out about my crush, except for the crush himself.”

And Penelope Garcia’s jaw has hit the floor, she is in a state of shock. So severely, in fact, you have to wave a hand in front of her face.

“Earth to Penelope?” You ask, amused. 

She blinks rapidly at you, her spirit seemingly returning to her as she starts to squeal. “Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh! I knew it, I absolutely knew it!”

Then, your phone dings, a text tone that sends goosebumps rippling up your arm. 

Spencer: Is everything okay? I am sorry if I upset you by telling Penelope, I was just concerned for you. Can I talk to you before we leave for the day, please?

Without hesitation, you show the text to Penelope, seeking her moral support in your time of need. “Now that you know what’s going on, please help me, what the hell am I supposed to do?!”

The technical analyst spins in her chair, typing away on her keyboard before bringing up a direct feed of one of the security cameras inside the main office. The two of you can see Spencer, sitting at his desk with his bag and coat on, ready to leave for the day, but glancing between his phone and the text he’s sent you that’s now showing as ‘read’ and Penelope’s office door, with a worried expression.

“Honestly, sweetpea, I don’t think you’ve got a choice but to tell him. The two of you are so close, he’ll see right through any white-lie you tell him and worry even more that he’s done something to upset you. The most painless way out of this is to just tell him the truth.” Penelope says, wincing at her own words as she looks at you because she knows how much it would hurt to have someone tell her that, if she were in your situation. 

Looking back up at Spencer on the monitor, seeing his worried expression, your heart aches at the thought of making him overthink about something he’s said or done, never wanting to cause him that kind of distress.

Sighing in defeat, you nod. “You’re right, Pen.”

Fixing your gaze back on your phone screen, you start to type, not missing the way Spencer’s eyes light up on the monitor at the notification of you typing back to him.

You: sorry Spence, I didn't mean to worry you, I'm all good! now coming :)

As silly as it is, the smiley face you send him brings a small smile to Spencer’s actual face, and that gives you the only confidence you need to rise from your seat. 

“Good luck, sweetness!” Penelope squeals, pulling you into a hug before practically shoving you out of her office.

Stepping into Spencer’s line of sight, he immediately starts walking over to you.

“Hey, I’m so sorry that I told Garcia, I know I shouldn’t have-” He begins to ramble, but your smile stops him in his tracks.

“You don’t need to apologize, Spencer, I promise, everything is fine. Are you ready to head out?” You ask him as he follows you over to your own desk, so that you can collect your own jacket and bag. 

“Y-Yeah.” He replies nervously, very obviously still worrying because you haven’t told him the whole truth yet, rendering him unable to settle.

The two of you walk to the elevator in silence, but as the doors close, isolating the two of you, you take a deep breath.

“You’re going to think my explanation is ridiculous, just to pre-warn you.”

Spencer frowns seriously, turning to face you, giving you his full attention. “Nothing you say is ever ridiculous, not to me. What’s going on?” His voice is so soft that it has you weak at the knees, which does not make this any easier. 

“I was texting a friend of mine and then carried on typing when I looked back to answer you, meaning I accidentally sent the next text to you.” The explanation is simple, in essence, but Spencer is nodding along like you are reciting some holy scripture. Biting the bullet completely this time, you pass Spencer your phone with shaking hands, allowing him to read the texts you sent your friend.

“But…you sent these after talking with me? While still talking with me?” He asks quizzically, for a moment blinded by his own obliviousness and a sadness settles in his heart because he truly believes you were thinking of some other guy when just speaking to him, but as the more logical conclusion presents itself to him, Spencer’s eyes widen.

You are unable to look at him, your gaze fixed on the closed elevator doors in front of you as you gently take your phone and conceal it back in your pocket. “Yep.” Is, somehow, the only word you can muster. 

Spencer parts his lips to speak, but the elevator doors open, and you all but make a break for it.

“Sorry. See you tomorrow, Spencer.” You blurt out hurriedly as you speed walk out of the building and into the parking lot, feeling physically sick as tears blur your vision, knowing you have single handedly ruined whatever wonderful friendship Spencer appreciates you for sharing with him, knowing your fate of a tear soaked pillow awaits you the second you arrive home. 

“(Y/N), wait, please!” Spencer calls out after you, his voice alone strong enough to stop you on your march. 

Turning to face him, Spencer’s heart breaks at the sight of the tears escaping your eyes. “Spencer, I am so, so sorry. I know you don’t like physical contact, I know you have never so much as glanced at me in the only way I’ve ever been able to look at you, and I want you to know I tried absolutely everything to stop myself falling for you because I didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation like this, but every new thing I learn about you just makes me love you more than I thought possible and every time you smile at me you remind me what the definition of beautiful is, as though I’d ever forget when you exist to be just that in every conceivable way, and I’m so sorry or making you worry and care for me and that now you’ve got no choice but to process all of this and with your eidetic memory you’re not going to be able to forget it which makes things even more awkward for you and-”

Spencer interrupts your breathless, tearful ramble by pulling you into his arms, tucking your head into his chest.

“Breathe, (Y/N), please.” He asks, so softly, with such care and compassion you can only cry into his coat. 

For a few minutes, that is how you stay, crying in his arms as he holds you there, gently shushing you, one hand rubbing your back and the other holding your head to his chest, his fingertips caressing your hair in a way that makes it very difficult for you to focus on anything else. But, when Spencer hears your tears settle into sniffles, your breaths returning to normal, he parts his lips to speak.

“500 years through time and space.” He says, a small smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

Unfortunately, in your heartbroken state, you don’t quite catch on. “Yeah, friends have always got to be kind and appreciate each other, I remember.” You nod, pulling away from Spencer to wipe your eyes. 

As your vision clears, you see the smile on his face, and Spencer shakes his head at you. “The saying is specifically tailored to soulmates, I only added the friendship clarification because I didn’t want to be too forward.” He holds your gaze, reading your eyes as you return to the wavelength you’ve always shared. “Actually, the next fact I was going to tell you when you came out of the bathroom, the new fact you asked for on your return, was going to be that a study conducted by the University of California found that when someone is in love, their heartbeat synchronizes itself with that of the person they are in love with. And I was, then, going to ask to check your heart-rate, because I am a Doctor, after all.” He chuckles bashfully, pulling the stethoscope from his bag and shyly hiding it in there again once you acknowledge it.

There’s no way you can keep your cool at this point, the bright smile on your face is impossible to conceal. “How long have you had that stethoscope in there in preparation for telling me that fact?”

Spencer does not hesitate with his answer. “4 months, 18 days and 6 hours.”

You nod slowly. “So, you’ve been sure for a while, then?”

Spencer nods back at you, his own smile widening. “For 4 months, 18 days, 6 hours and 3 minutes, to be exact.”

You can’t help giggling at that. “500 years, 4 months, 18 days, 6 hours, and 3 minutes later, here we are. Sorry, I took the long way round.” You joke, taking a nervous step towards him, and Spencer meets you halfway. 

“I think we both did.” His words are quiet, his breath on your lips as he leans down to you, smile to smile and heart to heart for the first time in your lives. 

It’s you that rises to your tiptoes to close the final gap between you, your lips meeting his and immediately sighing against them, truly feeling that you have waited each and every one of those 500 years for this kiss alone. Spencer’s large hands cup your face so gently, and your hands hold his there, stars and butterflies whirling around you in a bliss shared between two souls that took their sweet time in coming back to each other. 

As a thought enters your mind, you break away from the kiss to laugh lightly.

“What is it?” Spencer asks quietly, but he’s already laughing with you.

“Two hearts, beating together?” You say, giggling to yourself as the realization flashes in Spencer’s eyes, too, so much so that he finishes the thought for you.

“You’re absolutely right, that is a bit Doctor-Who!”

[geneviveleocardius]

leon kennedy romantic headcanons

after raccoon city trauma, with his now lover

1. First and Always

leon still looks at you the way he did when you first met: like you’re the most incredible person in the room, though now there’s a weight of gratitude in his gaze for sticking by him.

2. Safe Haven

being with you is his escape from the nightmares. “you’re the only thing that makes me feel normal again,” he’ll admit softly after a long day.

3. Shared Scars

your bond is forged in shared trauma, and leon finds comfort in how you never ask him to forget or move on—only to keep going, together.

4. Silent Comfort

some nights, words aren’t necessary. leon will just pull you close, his head resting on your shoulder, letting your presence do what words can’t.

5. Unwavering Loyalty

he’s fiercely loyal to you, to the point where anyone else’s opinion pales in comparison. “if you believe in me, that’s all i need,” he often tells you.

6. Gentle Protector

leon’s protective instincts are strong, but with you, it’s softer—checking the locks twice before bed or pulling you behind him when he senses danger.

7. The Little Things

he’s developed a habit of noticing the smallest details about you: how you like your coffee, the way you scrunch your nose when you’re annoyed, or how you hum softly when you’re deep in thought.

8. Late-Night Confessions

leon tends to open up at night, his guard down as he whispers things like, “i don’t deserve you,” or “i don’t know what i’d do if i ever lost you.”

9. Unspoken Understanding

the two of you communicate in ways that don’t require words: a squeeze of the hand, a look that says everything, or a gentle touch that pulls him back from his darker thoughts.

10. Laughter in the Darkness

you’re the one person who can still make him laugh, your shared jokes and light teasing bringing moments of levity to his heavy days.

11. Nightmares Together

he’s not the only one haunted by the past, and when your own nightmares surface, leon is there to hold you, whispering, “you’re safe now. i’ve got you.”

12. Long Drives and Quiet Moments

leon loves quiet drives with you, where the road stretches endlessly, and the silence is filled with unspoken warmth and occasional stolen glances.

13. Tender Confidence

he’s become more confident over the years, but when it comes to you, he’s still the same awkward man, shyly asking, “does this look okay on me?” when you dress up together.

14. Shared Burdens

leon tries to shoulder the weight of his guilt and trauma alone, but you’re the one person he trusts to share it with, even if it’s hard for him to admit.

15. Your Strength Keeps Him Going

when he feels like giving up, your unwavering support is what pulls him back. “i’m not giving up,” he’ll say. “because you didn’t give up on me.”

16. Memories in the Making

despite the darkness of his past, leon loves making new, lighter memories with you—lazy mornings, shared meals, and quiet nights that remind him life can still be good.

17. Soft Jealousy

while he trusts you completely, leon can’t help but get a little jealous when someone else catches your attention, his pouty silence giving him away.

18. Anchor in the Storm

you’re his anchor, the one constant in a chaotic world. “as long as i have you, i can handle anything,” he says, often with a tired but sincere smile.

19. Endless Gratitude

leon never stops thanking you in small ways, whether it’s by cooking breakfast when you’re too tired or quietly leaving notes like, “thank you for staying with me.”

20. Forever Together

though he’s been through hell, leon looks at you and feels a spark of hope, quietly promising, “no matter what happens, i’ll always be by your side.”

[kpop]

K-Pop Spotlight: DAY6

Come one, come all to a K-Pop Spotlight that is sure to dazzle and delight ’til the final curtain. This week, all eyes are on DAY6 following the release of their eighth mini-album, Fourever, and brand new title track, "Welcome to the Show." We caught up with the band to discuss their goals as they approach their 10th anniversary and their ever-growing connection to their fans through their music. Check out our full interview below!

Tracks like “Welcome to the Show,” “The Power of Love,” and “Get The Hell Out” seem to have very different themes. Can you tell us a little about how these songs relate to each other and what aspects make this album cohesive?

SUNGJIN: As we pursue the idea of being a 'band that sings every moment,' it seems like our albums, including the recent one, prioritize diversity in songs and situations rather than unity. Consequently, our albums contain various genres and narratives. However, there seems to be a commonality in most songs, depicting situations that everyone has either gone through or might experience.

Young K: First and foremost, I would say this album is a compilation of the best songs we could create. There's definitely a theme of love running through it. "Welcome to the Show," "The Power of Love," and "Get The Hell Out" all talk about the concept of love.

What goes into creating titles for DAY6 songs and albums, especially those that don’t come directly from your lyrics? Do you find it hard to condense the intentions and themes of a song into a title?

Young K: While there have been cases like that, all the songs on this album came from the lyrics. Sometimes, when choosing a title, we select the one that best describes the song—other times, we choose to give it a twist or make it more intriguing.

WONPIL: Naming songs involves a lot of deliberation. We often contemplate which title will catch the eye and capture the song's essence. Usually, we try to take it from a verse in the chorus. This can be a challenging part of the songwriting process.

Is there a creative project you’ve always wanted to work on but haven’t gotten the chance/found the time?

SUNGJIN: I'm very curious, and have a principle of "trying to experience as much as possible." There are so many things I want to try musically and personally, especially among the things I know but haven't tried yet.

DOWOON: I hope we can have a song that we can collaborate on with My Day, like a choir.

What does your work/studio setup look like? Where do you feel the most creatively inspired?

DOWOON: We try to keep the studio as tidy as possible and make it comfortable for practice sessions.

WONPIL: When working on songs, we talk a lot. We get inspiration from little conversations, joking around, sharing stories, and listening to music from various eras regardless of genre while giving opinions. We also try to build emotional connections with the songs. There’s a lot of communication going on. The songwriting process takes place in the studio of our long-time collaborator, composer Hong Jisang, with whom we've been working together since our debut.

How do you want to evolve as a musician/producer?

Young K: I want to be eagerly anticipated and awaited as an artist. Without those who wait for us, we wouldn't release or even step onto the stage. So I’m always thankful for My Day.

WONPIL: My biggest goal is to make good music for My Day and the public, so I think I'll continue to ponder. When working on songs, I pour my sincerity into them. I constantly strive to express this sincerity musically, fully capturing the emotions I want to convey. I hope to create songs that can still be listened to even after 10 or 20 years.

Design your own Tumblr blog: choose an aesthetic, a blog name, and would you be a frequent poster or lurker?

SUNGJIN: I think I’ll use it to catch up on friends' updates. For the blog name, THUMB BLUR sounds good to me. I might end up being a lurker who never posts.

DOWOON: Maybe a blog for plants? I think I'll post it like a diary.

Want more DAY6? Check out their new mini album Fourever and the music video for the title track “Welcome to the Show,” both out now!

[beloveds-embrace]

OKAYY IMA TRY MY BEST HERE TO EXPLAIN, so like reader and ghost were married but got divorced because of how toxic ghost was being but they never can really stay away from each other because they are both still in love with each other and ghost keeps coming to her house and they always argue and then fuck after, and like the argue part is really just the reader yelling at him and telling him how much she hates him and how much she wants him to get out , AND SOTHING I REALLY LIKE IS WHEN THE READERIS PUSHING HIM AND PUNCHING BUT HE NOT MOVING AT ALL, and after she is panting out of breath and then they fuckkk, I KNOW ITS KINDA CHOPPY AND NOT IN GREAT DETAIL BUT WOULD LOVE TO SEE IT <33333

Hmdjsjs i’m so sorry anon i love this, i really do, but I don’t write full smut 😔 here’s a lil drabble for the rest of it though that i hope will be good enough !

The pounding at your door came again, sharp and deliberate, echoing in the silence of your house. You didn’t need to look through the peephole to know who it was. You’d been expecting him, even though you’d hoped- prayed- that this time he wouldn’t show up. That this time, you’d be free from this constant, horrible cycle.

With a resigned sigh, you yanked the door open; he’d just use the spare he keeps on him and refuses to let go of even now to enter your home. And there he was, Simon Riley. Ghost. Your ex-husband. Standing there like he owned the damn place, his mask half-pulled up so you could see his mouth, that damn infuriating faint smirk tugging at the corners.

“What the hell do you want, Simon?” you snapped, your voice sharp enough to cut glass.

He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, his massive frame brushing against you as he crossed the threshold. It hurt your heart, seeing him look so perfectly fitting within your home. The one you used to share with him before the divorce. “Nice t’ see you too, love,” he muttered, shutting the door behind him.

“Don’t call me that,” you hissed, shoving at his chest with both hands. A familiar dance. “I told you to stop coming here!”

He didn’t budge. Of course he didn’t. He just stood there, towering over you, calm and unshaken as you pushed and slapped at him, an unshaked pillar. It only made your anger boil hotter, your annoyance burning brighter.

“I hate you!” you spat, hitting him again, your fists pounding against the solid wall of his chest. Damn him, damn his face, and damn his hardened body. “I hate how you just show up like this! Like you have any right to be here! I hate-”

“Get it out, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice maddeningly soft, his hands resting loosely at his sides. “Go on.” Completely at ease, not at all afraid. You hate him so much, and you hate how desperately you miss that level of stability only he’d ever seemed to have even despite all your fights.

That only made you hit harder, your breaths coming in short, furious bursts as you yelled everything you’d been holding in. Every frustration, every bit of heartbreak and resentment that had festered since the divorce. Every drop of fury that rekindles with each visit he does, unable to stay away from you.

But then your blows slowed, your strength faltering as exhaustion crept in. You stood there panting, chest heaving as you glared up at him, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

“Feel better?” he asked, his voice low, infuriating bastard.

“Get out,” you whispered, though it lacked the venom you wanted it to have. Your shoulders slumped, and you just stared at him in defeat.

But he didn’t move. He just reached up, his hand cupping your jaw, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped down your cheek.

“Can’t stay away,” he said simply, rough but achingly sincere. “You know that.”

And damn it, he was right. As much as you wanted to hate him, as much as you wanted him gone, you couldn’t deny the way your body reacted when he was this close.

His lips crashed into yours, fierce and demanding, and before you knew it, you were clawing at him, your anger transforming into something just as fiery but far more primal- led by the wet, dripping ache between your legs.

It was always like this with him. A storm of emotions that left you both battered but somehow unwilling to let go. Toxic, yes. Unhealthy, definitely. But no matter how much you told yourself it had to stop, you both knew it never really would. He would never stay away, and you would never push him away.

“Mine,” he mumbles, pulling away just so. A string of spit connected your lips, and you panted for breath in his arms. “Fuckin’ mine, you’ll always be.”

And the worst part? You just wanted more, more, more.