#and he knows him so instinctively that he barely has to look away from the road to do this

[leeeedith]

STRAY KIDS reaction to their first time with you

Bang Chan 🐺

As the atmosphere around you both shifts, Chan’s usual protective and caring nature takes the lead. He’s a little shy, but his sincerity is undeniable. "Hey," he says softly, looking into your eyes. "I want you to know… I really care about you. This isn’t something I take lightly. Are you sure?" His voice is low, but there's a vulnerability to it. It’s not just the moment that’s intimate, but the way he makes sure you’re comfortable. He leans in slowly, reading your cues, letting you take the lead, because he wants this moment to be something you both can share equally.

Lee Know 🐰

You feel the heat in the room, but when Minho looks at you with a smirk, his usual playful vibe remains. "You really want this, huh?" he teases lightly, but there’s a warmth in his eyes, a softness hidden behind his mischievous grin. He’s full of charm, but he’s also aware of the seriousness in this moment. When he touches your hand, there’s a quiet, reassuring moment that follows. No words are needed. It’s just the tenderness in the way he holds you, taking his time, respecting your space, but making sure you know he’s fully present with you.

Changbin 🐷

Changbin’s energy is usually intense, but when you two finally connect on this level, his strength softens. His hands are warm and firm, and you can feel the careful, yet genuine affection he has for you. "I’ve wanted this, but only when you’re ready," he murmurs, his voice deep and steady, but there’s a hint of vulnerability there. He’s the type to want to make sure you’re completely comfortable before anything progresses, and his protective instincts are even more evident in the way he’s so gentle with you. You both take your time, not rushing, just existing in the moment together.

Hyunjin 😺

Hyunjin's presence fills the room, but his touch is soft, almost like he’s afraid to break the intimacy of the moment. "I want this, but only if you do too," he says with a quiet confidence. His smile is tender, yet there’s a slight nervousness beneath it. He holds you in a way that feels like you’re precious to him, as though every movement, every word, is intentional and filled with meaning. He kisses you slowly, savoring the moment, as if trying to make it last forever.

Han 🐿️

Han is the type to keep things light and fun, but when it comes to you, there’s an unexpected tenderness to his approach. "I’ve never felt this way about anyone before," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. He’s open with his feelings, which makes you feel even closer to him. He touches you gently, almost as if he's afraid of making the moment too intense. But his eyes give him away—the love he has for you is undeniable. He might joke around, but in this moment, you both feel the deep bond you share, and it’s not about anything other than how much you care for each other.

Felix 🐥

Felix's warmth is apparent, even in the most intimate of moments. He runs his fingers gently through your hair, brushing it back from your face, his touch tender and full of affection. "You make me feel so lucky," he murmurs, his voice soft and full of emotion. He’s genuinely present, every inch of him fully focused on making sure you feel safe and cared for. His kisses are slow and filled with intention, and he lets the moment breathe, allowing the two of you to connect in a way that feels personal and beautiful.

Seungmin 🐶

Seungmin is usually calm and composed, but in this moment, you see a side of him that’s pure and vulnerable. He looks at you seriously, but there's a quiet warmth in his gaze. "You’re everything to me," he says softly, the words catching in the air between you both. He doesn’t rush anything. His touch is gentle, almost reverent. He’s the type to take his time, to make sure every moment is meaningful. You can tell this is something he’s thought about for a long time, and when you finally kiss, it’s with the kind of tenderness that speaks volumes.

I.N 🦊

Jeongin is a little shy, but you can feel how much he cares through every movement. "Is this okay?" he asks, his voice filled with a mix of tenderness and a slight hint of nervousness. He’s not sure how to act, but that only makes him more endearing. When you kiss, it’s soft, innocent, and full of promise. He holds you like you’re the most precious thing in the world, and it’s clear he’s trying to savor every second of it. His touch is gentle, and he always looks at you with a sense of wonder—this is something new for him, but it’s something he wants to experience fully with you.

[hazbinshusk]

awkward kiss for a husky. Perhaps the reader has never been in a relationship or simply does not know how to kiss. Therefore, this is her first experience.

I tweaked this one a little bit, to make it a continuation of another kiss prompt, but I hope you still like it. combined with a kiss prompt request because they worked so well together. husk's rizz is off the charts here, if I do say so myself.

check out part one (a kiss to the palm of the hand) here.

kiss prompt #39: a tentative kiss

Husk’s paw comes up to curl around your wrist, soft fur and heart-shaped pad pressed against your skin. His voice comes softly, almost… playful. “Your hand is shaking. You okay, doll?”

You nod slowly, your breath caught in your throat.

“Good.” Husk smiles, and your eyes widen as he pulls your hand away, turns his head, and presses his lips to the palm of your hand. “You had me worried there.”

Christ, you didn’t think you could get any more flustered by this damn bartender.

Husk’s claws tease gently against your wrist, his thumb circling the place where your pulse hammers under your skin. You wonder if he can tell, if he can feel its drumbeat, but even as that thought brings a bead of panic into your chest, you don’t pull away.

“You good?” he asks, a baritone barely more than a murmur. The hotel is unusually quiet now that Angel’s gone to bed and even Niffty is no longer crawling around on the hunt for whatever pest she’d declared war on this week, and the silence seems to only make you more aware of the gentle rumble that sounds in the undertones of his voice. In the intimacy of the moment, it makes your mind wander to darker rooms and soft sheets, and you know that flush in your cheeks is growing darker. Husk still has this amused tilt to his lips, softening his features in a way that his usually sarcastic smirk doesn’t. “You still look like you’re about to bolt.”

You swallow, trying to steady your breathing before you reply.

“I’m okay,” you say, smiling through an exhale. “You just… caught me off guard.”

Husk chuckles quietly, lowering your hand to the bar. Your heart jumps into your throat as once again, he doesn’t let go, instead leaving his paw resting over the back of your hand. It’s a soft touch that seems to flirt with both innocent and intimate, and he does it casually, as though it’s a natural touch, thoughtless and uncalculated.

You wonder, if you turn your hand under his, would he let you intertwine your fingers with his?

Your hand doesn’t move.

“Been a long time since I’ve done that to anyone,” he tells you, voice still wonderfully low. He’s leaning over the bar now, not by much, but it still closes so much of the distance between the two of you.

“Since you ki… kissed their hand?” you ask, trying to keep your tone casual. From the way he looks at you, the soft, affectionate laugh he breathes out, you know you’ve failed. That warmth is reflected in his eyes, and it melts the very core of you.

“That too,” he smiles, claws curling around your fingers. He leans forward; something in his expression shifts, and your nerves suddenly rise up to wrap their clawing fingers around your heart. They tug, and you jerk back instinctively. Regret flares as a heat inside you as Husk’s eyes widen and he pulls away. “Shit, I’m—”

He looks fucking horrified with himself, and you stumble over an explanation, an apology, anything to get him to stop feeling that way.

“No! No, don’t… you didn’t do anything wrong, I just—” Husk moves as though he’s going to back away from the bar, to put a more respectable distance between the two of you, and the way his wings curl in against his shoulders, the way his ears fold back, God, it makes your chest tighten. You reach out instinctively, catching hold of his paw. Husk doesn’t pull away, but there’s something painful in his expression.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—” he fumbles for the words for a moment. He lets out this huff of a laugh, short and low and self-deprecating. “Shoulda known, I jus’—”

“I wanted you to!” you blurt out, and your face burns with the admission, your voice a little too loud for the space between you. You lower it hurriedly, your gaze dropping to where your hand is clutching his wrist. “I wanted you to, I just… I panicked. I’m not…”

Husk studies you for a moment, a long moment, before he turns his wrist, pulling it gently out of your grip. But instead of withdrawing it, he curls his claws gently around your fingers, pressing the heart-shaped pad softly into your palm. He doesn’t say anything; he just watches you take a breath, find the words.

“I don’t… have a lot of experience,” you say hesitantly,  focusing on the way his hand looks so big, totally eclipsing yours. His touch is warm, and once again you’re stricken by just how soft his fur is.  “With… anything, really. I wasn’t… I think about kissing you all the time and I just know I’m going to fuck it up, and I—”

“You wanna repeat that for me, ducks?”

Husk’s voice is quiet, but it breaks through your rambling easy enough.

You glance up, taken aback by the interruption. “I—I said I was going to fuck it up. And I’m sorry for—”

Husk actually chuckles. It’s quiet, under his breath, but the sound is warm in a way that some part of you desperately hopes will become familiar despite the way it way its mocking claws into your heart, serrated and sharp. He picks a random bottle off the shelf, takes a drink.

But then he says: “No…”

He draws out the word in a lilting tone, pulling his paw out of your hand and rounds the bar to join you on the other side. Husk takes the barstool beside you; you’ve turned to face him as he’s moved, and when he sits down, his knees bump against yours. It’s a strange, new kind of intimacy, sitting like this, and those butterflies flutter  again.

“The other bit,” he continues, setting the bottle he still holds on the counter beside him. “Say that other bit again.”

“What oth—” realisation hits you, and a you can’t help a tentative smile of your own. “Oh. That.”

Husk’s lips quirk, his tail twitch back and forth by his ankle so the feathers tickle against your leg. “Can I hear it again?”

Is your blood ever going to return to the rest of your body?

“I…” you press your lips together for a moment, but they unfurl with a bashful smile. “I kinda think about kissing you sometimes.”

Husk’s own smile widens. “Sometimes?”

“Shut up,” you mumble, and when Husk rumbles a laugh you reach out to shove his shoulder. He catches your hand before you do, but instead of moving it away, he brings it up to rest on his shoulder. Your fingers curl automatically around his suspender, soft fur tickling at your fingertips. He trails his claws down your arm, and your breath hitches as they move lower, smoothing over your ribs and down to your waist. “Husk…?”

“’m givin’ you the greenlight, ducks,” he says. Your resurfacing nerves must reflect in your expression, because he smirks softly, squeezing your waist reassuringly. “So, no need to fret, alright?”

You nod, your mouth suddenly feeling very dry. You stroke your fingers shakily through the fur of his shoulder, meet his eye, then drop your gaze again as you lose your nerve. Husk snickers and rolls his eyes, reaching out to carefully cup your face in his hand.

He leans in, and this time you don’t pull away, closing your eyes as Husk’s lips meet yours in a careful, hesitant kiss.

send me a prompt and either husk or blitzø

[thebunnednun]

"EAT YER SOUP!" part.2

Pairing: Aged up!ProHero!Husband!Katsuki Bakugou x Pro hero!Wife!Reader

Warning: MDNI!!! Extreme Flirting , Wc: Long like his truama+, No ageless blogs!

Synopsis: A snowball fight escalates into a dramatic battle for the icy throne between the, "Snow Empress," and the, "Demon King," of class 1a and ending with you becoming sick and Katsuki taking care of his sweet little Wife.

Tons of romantic flirting, promises of fun and sexy times awaits. Reader has a quirk.

Ya like Jane Austen? You'll love this.

Part 2 of 2.

“Gotcha, Empress!” 

Katsuki purrs as he yanks you out of the tube.

You barely have time to register what’s happening before instinct takes over. 

Twisting in his grasp, you shoot a blast of snow from your palms directly into his face. He stumbles backward with a loud, disgruntled, “FUCK!,” releasing you just enough for you to lose your balance.

You feel the icy structure under your feet slip away, gravity pulling you toward the ground below. But then, just as suddenly, his hand shoots out again—hot, calloused fingers curling around your wrist, yanking you firmly back into his grasp.

“Damn it, lady!” Katsuki grunts, stumbling from the momentum. You both crash down together in a heap of tangled limbs inside the tube, the tight space forcing you into an awkward but oddly secure position.

Your head is tucked against his chest, and you realize with a startled flush that he’s holding you like you’re made of glass. His right hand cradles the back of your head, shielding it from the cold, unyielding surface of the plastic. His legs are splayed out, braced against the sides of the tube to cushion your fall, while his left arm is wrapped snugly around your waist, keeping you steady and close.

For a moment, neither of you says a word, the only sounds are the faint laughter and concerned murmurs of your friends outside, muffled by the igloo walls. It’s quiet in here—warm, even, despite the cold air trapped in the tube.

Then Katsuki shifts slightly, muttering a gruff, “Here.”

You tilt your head, trying to look up at him in the darkness. It’s hard to see much, but you catch a glimpse of something familiar—a flash of cherry red.

Your robe.

He’s got it wrapped around one of his hands, and with surprising gentleness, he drapes it over your shoulders, pulling it snugly around you. You blink, momentarily stunned.

“Is… Is this part of your plan to catch me?”

“Shut up,” he snaps, though there’s no heat in his voice. “You’re gonna get sick running around in your damn underwear like that.” You scoff lightly, though there’s a warmth blooming in your chest that has nothing to do with the robe. “I’m not going to get sick,” you argue. “I’m perfectly fine.”

Katsuki’s grip on you tightens just a fraction. “Yeah, well, ’m not the psycho who stripped down to their socks in the middle of a fight,” he retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm. You grin, unable to resist teasing him.

“Did that bother you?”

His hand slides down to your hip, squeezing the soft spot there that you know he loves. “’s there to bother me?” he counters smoothly, though there’s a dangerous edge of possessiveness in his tone. 

“At the end of the day, yer all mine.”

Your smile softens as you hum quietly, the tension in your body melting away. You dust some stray snow off his shoulder and settle your head more comfortably against his chest, listening to the steady, reassuring thrum of his heartbeat.

“Hmm,” you murmur, snuggling into his warmth despite the awkward position. “So… what do we do now?”

Katsuki’s chest rumbles beneath your cheek as he exhales deeply. His fingers trace idle patterns on your lower back, the gesture so tender.

“We wait,” he says finally, his voice quieter now, almost reluctant. “Wait for you to stop acting like a crazy-ass queen, or wait for me to figure out how to kick your ass in here without breakin’ this damn tube.”

You laugh softly, the sound muffled against his chest. “Or,” you suggest, your tone playful, “We could just call it a truce.”

He snorts, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “A truce? After all that shit talk? Not a chance.”

Despite his words, he doesn’t make a move to push you away, and you don’t make any effort to pull back. Instead, you both lie there, tangled together in the confined space, the world outside forgotten.

It’s so nice. 

The cold bites at your exposed skin, but it feels distant now—an afterthought, dulled by the warmth radiating from Katsuki. His touch is slow and deliberate, his hands heating slightly as they glide across your back, over the curve of your back, and along your arms. The sensation is heavenly, like stepping out of a steaming bath and being wrapped in a freshly-warmed towel, soft and comforting.

He’s done that for you before, countless times, but now it feels different. More intimate. The rough pads of his fingers, usually calloused from years of training, are surprisingly gentle as they trail over your skin, thawing the cold little by little.

You shiver, though not from the chill.

“Stay still, Empress,” Katsuki murmurs, his voice low and smooth, laced with a teasing edge. His warm breath ghosts over the top of your head, carrying the faint but familiar scent of mint and caramel. “Can’t have ya turnin’ into an ice cube on me.”

Before you can respond, you feel his lips press against the crown of your head, soft and lingering. It’s so tender, so unlike the fiery, brash public persona you’ve come to love, that your heart skips a beat.

Then, he tilts your head back, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. His gaze flickers over your face, taking in every detail—your frozen cheeks, your trembling lips, the soft rise and fall of your breath. He leans in and brushes his lips against the tip of your frozen nose, the warmth of his mouth shocking against the cold.

“Such a pain in my ass,” he murmurs in that old tongue, his tone carrying a mix of amusement and affection.

“Running around half-naked, challenging me like you’ve got a chance.”

His words make you bristle, but before you can retort, he kisses your cheek, soft and warm, before trailing his lips down to your jawline. The gentle nips he delivers there make your breath hitch, and you feel the curve of his smirk against your skin.

“But damn, if you’re not the prettiest little thing I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he continues, his voice dropping into a husky whisper as he presses his lips to the sensitive spot beneath your jaw. 

“Even when you’re being a stubborn, reckless brat.”

You scoff, but it comes out weaker than you’d like, especially when his lips skim over the curve of your neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. His hands slide over your shoulders, his thumbs brushing along the bare skin exposed by your earlier stunt.

“You are mine,” he murmurs, his voice soft yet firm, a quiet declaration that sends a shiver down your spine. His breath fans against your collarbone as he plants another kiss there, and you can feel his smirk deepening. 

“Every. Damn. Inch.”

Despite his teasing, there’s a reverence in his touch, a quiet adoration in the way his fingers trace the curve of your shoulder, the line of your neck. He’s worshiping you, in his own Katsuki way—praising you even as he mocks you.

“You really thought you could beat me with this little stunt?” he whispers, his warm lips brushing against the shell of your ear now, his tone equal parts amused and affectionate. 

“Cute.”

You let out a soft huff, trying to maintain your composure despite the way he’s unraveling you with every kiss, every word. “I’m still standing, aren’t I?” you manage, your voice just as curt as his earlier tone.

His chuckle rumbles deep in his chest, vibrating against your skin. “Barely,” he shoots back, his lips finding the curve of your shoulder again. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.”

Katsuki pauses for a moment, his hands stilling on your back as he tilts your head up to meet his gaze. His crimson eyes soften, and for just a moment, the teasing fades, replaced by something deeper, something raw.

“But you’re also a damn idiot,” he mutters, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “I’m supposed to protect you, you know? Even from yourself.”

You blink up at him, stunned by the sudden tenderness in his voice. Before you can respond, he leans down and kisses you again, this time on your lips. It’s not fiery or rushed—it’s slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring the moment. 

Like he’s trying to pour everything he can’t put into words into that one kiss.

When he finally pulls back, his smirk returns, though it’s softer now, less cocky. “There,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into a near whisper. “All warmed up, Princess?”

You hum, leaning into him, your head resting against his chest once more. “For now,” you murmur, feeling his arms tighten around you.

The snow outside may be cold, but here, in his arms, you’ve never felt warmer.

You shift slightly in Katsuki's hold, your cheek pressed against his as his arms remain firmly wrapped around you. He’s warm, almost blazing against the cold, and it’s easy to let yourself sink into the security of his touch. But you’re not done with him yet. He wanted to play games earlier, and so can you.

Tilting your head up, you look at him, your expression softening as you press a cold kiss to the underside of his jaw. He stiffens slightly, the contrast of your chilled lips on his hot skin sending a shiver through him. You smirk at his reaction, your fingers brushing against the back of his neck as you plant another kiss along his jawline, slower this time.

“Why so grumpy, Suki?” you murmur against his skin, your voice low and teasing, just enough to tickle. “You’ve been rough with everyone all day. What’s gotten into you?”

His ruby eyes narrow as he glances down at you, suspicion flickering in his gaze. “Don’t start, Peach,” he warns, though his voice lacks its usual bite. You feign innocence, batting your lashes up at him as you press yourself closer, your fingers trailing along the edge of his collar. 

“Start what?” you ask sweetly, your lips curving into a sly smile. 

“I’m just worried about you, my scary Demon King. You’ve been acting so... mean.”

He snorts, his grip tightening slightly on your waist. “Yer playing dirty,” he mutters, his eyes flickering to your lips before snapping back to your gaze.

“Dirty?” you echo, gasping theatrically as you tilt your head to the side, your cold nose brushing against his cheek. “I’d never. I’m just trying to understand why my handsome grumpy husband has been acting like he’s got a stick up his—”

“Careful,” he growls, cutting you off, but there’s a hint of amusement in his tone now.

You grin, leaning up to whisper against his ear, your lips brushing against the shell. 

“Oh, am I pressing your buttons? How unlike me.”

His breath hitches slightly, but he masks it with a scoff.

“You think yer so funny, don’t you?”

“I think you’re adorable,” you counter, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes, your own sparkling with mischief.

“All this aggressive ‘playtime,’ and for what? Because you don’t know how to talk to your friends?”

That gets a reaction. 

His eyes narrow, and his jaw tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt you.

“Let me guess,” you continue, your tone softening as your hand comes up to cup his cheek. “You want their company, but instead of asking like a normal person, you blow up and act like a big scary Demon King. But you’re not, Katsuki. Not really.”

His gaze hardens, but you press on, your thumb brushing against his lips. “Right now, I don’t see some fearsome tyrant ruling over his snowy kingdom. No,” you say, leaning in closer, your voice dropping to a near whisper, 

“I see a man who’s too afraid to ask for what he wants.”

His grip on you falters for a moment, and you can feel the tension in his body as your words sink in. He opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“It’s okay, you know,” you murmur, your lips brushing against his as you speak. “You don’t have to keep shutting everyone out. They’re your friends, Katsuki. They love you. We love you.”

For a moment, he says nothing, his crimson eyes searching yours as if trying to find a way to argue. But instead of snapping back, he lets out a soft, frustrated sigh, his forehead coming to rest against yours.

“Such a pain,” he mutters, his voice rough but quieter now.

You smile, your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“And you love me for it,~” you tease, your voice light.

His lips twitch into a faint smirk, and he leans in, his nose brushing against yours. “Fuck yeah, I do,” he mutters before capturing your lips in a searing kiss, one that melts away the cold and reminds you of the fire that’s always burning in him—passionate, intense, and fiercely loyal.

It’s a kiss that speaks of more than words ever could, and for now, it’s enough to distract you.

“Have either of you won yet?! This is supposed to be a timed competition!”

You both hear Iida’s voice echoing through the training grounds, a mixture of authority and exasperation as he shouts. Katsuki scoffs, his crimson eyes narrowing as he glares at the tube he’s stuck in. “Like hell I’m letting you ruin this,” he growls, his voice dripping with determination. Then his gaze flicks to you. 

“What do you wanna do, huh?” 

You smirk, a spark of mischief flashing across your face.

“I wanna see if you really think you can beat me.”

He barks a short laugh. “Tch, bring it on.”

Nodding, you crawl over him, careful not to get stuck yourself. Once you’re free, you reach down, grabbing onto his arms and tugging as hard as you can. He grits his teeth, curses flying out of his mouth, and with one final heave, there’s a loud pop! as he’s yanked free.

“’Bout damn time!” he snaps, but you’re already sprinting into the darkness, your laughter echoing in the icy air.

“Catch me if ya can, Dynamight!” you call over your shoulder, waving as you vanish into the snow.

Katsuki mutters a string of expletives, his boots crunching as he gives chase. You dive into the snow, letting it swallow you whole as you melt seamlessly into its icy embrace. Watching from your hidden vantage point, you see him searching for you, his eyes scanning the terrain.

Suddenly, you reappear, popping up a few feet in front of him. 

“Hey, want to go for a swim?” you ask with a grin, your hands already glowing faintly.

“What the hell are you—” he starts, but then you flash your hands and a wave of icy energy radiates outward.

The snow around you begins to melt, transforming into water as ice walls rise up, trapping the two of you and a handful of benches. The area quickly fills like a giant tub, the cold breeze coming off the water  enough to make everyone shiver.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” Katsuki yells, his palms already sparking as he blasts at the ice walls, trying to escape. You dart through the water, grabbing onto his boots before he can blast his way out. “Oh no, you don’t!” you laugh, yanking him under.

The two of you wrestle in the frigid water, your punches landing on his chest with satisfying thuds. Of course, his solid frame doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest, which only makes you more determined.

As you’re grappling, the sky above suddenly darkens, heavy clouds rolling in. Snowflakes begin to fall, thick and fast. But this snow… it’s not yours.

“What the…?” you mutter, glancing up.

Katsuki notices too, his expression shifting from irritation to confusion. “What’re you laughin’ about, dumbass?” he growls as you giggle.

“Looks like even nature’s on my side,” you taunt, sticking your tongue out at him. Katsuki’s lips twitch, and then he’s laughing too, a wild, competitive sound that echoes in the icy dome. He raises one gloved hand to cover the left side of his face as he mouths to you,

“I’ma play your ass like the drums when ‘m done!”

He charges at you, but you summon an army of snow creatures, their icy forms springing up around you like loyal soldiers.

“That’s cheating!” he roars, blasting through the nearest snowman with ease.

“Kiss my ass, Kats!~” you shout back, diving under the snow before he can grab you.

The chaos is exhilarating—snow flying everywhere, the water splashing wildly, your classmates shouting from the sidelines as they cheer you on. You’re so caught up in the fun that you don’t notice it at first—the loud, ominous crack that echoes through the arena.

It’s only when Katsuki freezes, his eyes darting to the ice dam behind you, that your stomach drops.

The structure is splintering, fractures snaking across its surface as water begins to seep through. Katsuki’s heat combined with the pressure of the water—it’s all too much.

“Shit,” you breathe, your heart pounding. Katsuki’s eyes lock onto yours, and he yells,

“MOVE!”

But you’re already spinning around, the sound of the ice giving way roaring in your ears as the dam begins to collapse. The massive wave of water surges forward, unstoppable and icy cold, pushing everything out and rushing a wall of ice straight toward you.

Suddenly, a burst of heat slams into your back. Before you can process what’s happening, a strong arm wraps around your waist and pulls you down, just as the dam bursts, water cascading like a tidal wave.

You brace for impact, but instead of icy water swallowing you whole, you feel warmth—familiar and searing—surrounding you. Katsuki is on top of you, shielding your body from the chaos with his own. His heat crackles in the air, steam rising as his explosions counter the freezing onslaught.

“Damn it,” he growls, his voice low and rough, his breath hot against your ear.

“Are you tryin' to get yourself killed, you cracked nut?!”

You open your mouth to retort, but before you can, there’s another surge of heat—this time coming from behind you both. Katsuki rolls the two of you to the side just as a thick, fiery wall erupts, blocking the remaining water. Shoto stands there, his dual quirks in full display, steam curling off his hands as he pushes the wave back with calculated precision.

When the chaos subsides, you find yourself kinda laying on the cold, damp ground, still held Katsuki’s arms. He’s breathing hard, his hair plastered to his forehead, his crimson eyes blazing with frustration and something else.

“You’re insane,” he mutters, his hands still on your waist, as if he’s afraid to let go.

“You’re over reacting,” you shoot back, your voice laced with teasing, even though your heart is racing.

“OVER REACTING?!” His voice rises, and you can see his hands twitch, barely holding back an explosion. 

“Ya almost got us both killed, and you think this is funny?!”

Shoto steps closer, crossing his arms as he surveys the scene. “You two seem to have a habit of turning simple fun into near-death experiences,” he comments dryly, a hint of amusement in his otherwise stoic tone. You glance at him with a grin. 

“It’s called marriage, Sho. Look it up.” You see your brother smile but he tilts his head in that curious way leading you to follow his line of sight to the man pinned underneath you. 

Katsuki is livid.

Not the kind of angry that makes him shout—no, this was the simmering, teeth-gritting kind of fury, the one that burned hotter than his explosions ever could. His chest rose and fell beneath you as his ruby-red eyes locked onto yours. His whole face was flushed—whether from the cold, the embarrassment of you straddling him in front of your classmates, or the adrenaline of saving you, you weren’t entirely sure. But one thing was crystal clear: 

Ya mans is pisssssed!

“You—” His voice was low and guttural, barely above a growl. His hands gripped your waist instinctively, either to steady you or to hold you in place—probably both. 

“You reckless little—”

“You’re welcome,” you cut in smoothly, leaning forward with a grin that you knew would only rile him up further. Your hands braced themselves on his broad shoulders as you tilted your head, feigning innocence. “What? No thank-you for saving your ass from being bored?”

He scoffed, the sound laced with frustration as his fingers dug lightly into your sides. “My ass? You nearly drowned us both, you lunatic!”

“Drowned?” you echoed, laughing softly. “Please. You know water doesn’t bother me, and you wouldn’t drown if you tried. You’re too stubborn to die.”

“Not the point!” he barked, sitting up straighter so that your faces were mere inches apart. “You don’t think—”

“And you are simply thinking too much, Katsuki,” you shot back, pressing a ice cold finger against his cheek, just over the scrape from earlier. 

“See? Perfect balance.”

His jaw clenched as you rubbed the spot absentmindedly, and for a moment, he just stared at you. His hands, still on your waist, twitched as though he was debating whether to shove you off or pull you closer. You could almost see the internal struggle playing out in his head, but before he could make a decision, Iida’s stern voice broke through the charged air.

“Midoriya! Shoji! Someone help me separate these two before they start another battle!”

The cacophony of voices surrounded you as Iida and Shoji rushed over, their hurried steps crunching against the frost-covered ground. Shoto, still exuding heat from his fire quirk, stood a few feet away with an unreadable expression. You and Katsuki sit tangled on the wet ground near the bleachers, your legs straddling over his hips as he tries to simultaneously catch his breath and glare daggers at everything and everyone around him. His crimson eyes darted to you, his cheeks flushed—not just from exertion or the cold but from the mortifyingly public position you’d landed in.

His voice was a low growl, barely audible over the commotion. 

“Get off me, princess.”

But there wasn’t as much heat in his words as there usually was. You smirked, leaning forward just enough to invade his personal space. “But you look so comfy,” you teased, your hands braced against his chest. You could feel his heart pounding beneath your palm, quick and strong. 

“What’s wrong?~ Too flustered to admit I won?”

Before he could spit out one of his scathing remarks, Iida cleared his throat, his voice booming as he declared, “Both participants are officially out of bounds! However—” his hand gestured with the precision of a referee,

“Katsuki’s head crossed the line first, meaning the winner is our Empress!”

The collective cheers from your classmates rose into the frosty air. Izuku clapped his hands, his smile practically glowing. “You did it!” he exclaimed, his excitement infectious as he bounded closer.

Your classmates swarm the scene, a mix of laughter and concern. Mina is practically doubled over, wheezing from laughing too hard. Kirishima pats Shoto on the back, though he looks like he’s trying not to laugh himself.

“Yo, Bakugo,” Kaminari says with a grin, “You good there, man? Looks like she’s got you pinned.”

“Shut your damn mouth, Pikachu!” Katsuki roars, finally shoving you off his lap as he gets to his feet, his entire face red—not from the cold, but pure, unadulterated embarrassment. 

The sound of your friends’ laughter and teasing chants pulls you out of your little bubble. Mina was cackling, Sero was nudging Kaminari and whispering something that made both of them grin, and Shoto stood nearby, arms crossed as Shinsou rested an elbow on him. His expression was as cool as ever, but his raised brow said: ‘Why is this fool touching me?’

“Looks like we’ve got an audience,” you said lightly, smirking as you slid off Katsuki’s lap (pity) and onto the ground beside him. He immediately stood, brushing snow and water from his clothes with a grumble, and shot a glare at anyone brave enough to look his way.

“And what the hell are you all looking at?!” he snapped, his voice sharp enough to send Kaminari and Sero scurrying off to pretend they hadn’t been watching. You stood as well, brushing yourself off and turning to address the group. With a playful grin, you held your hands up.

“Alright, alright, listen up! I’m calling it. Katsuki’s been properly defeated by yours truly!”

“Not a chance,” Katsuki growled, stepping closer so his shoulder brushed against yours. 

“I wasn’t done with you yet.”

“Oh, I think you were,” you tease, glancing up at him with a cheeky smile. “And besides, Iida said your head crossed the line first. Therefore….” You pause for dramatic effect as you push your wet hair from your forehead.

“I win!”

You dust yourself off, standing and giving a dramatic bow to your friends. “And that, my dear friends, is how you win a fight against the mighty Katsuki Bakugou!”

“Win?! Like hell you did!” Katsuki snaps, but his protests are drowned out by the screams and laughter of your friends. The group cheered, and you saw Katsuki’s eye twitch, though he didn’t argue further. Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets, his scowl deepening as Izuku approached, beaming.

“Congratulations! That was incredible fighting, though! You two really—”

“Shut it, nerd,” Katsuki muttered, turning away, though his ears were still red. You reached up to give his cheek a teasing pat, earning a glare in return. 

“Aww, don’t be so grumpy, Katsuki. Everyone’s just happy to see their favorite Demon King and Snow Empress putting on such a good show.”

“Keep calling me that, and you’re gonna wish you drowned,” he muttered, though the corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly upward. As the group dispersed, laughing and chatting about the chaos you’d caused, Katsuki leaned closer to you, his voice low enough that only you could hear.��

“Next time, I’m not letting you get away with pulling that shit. Got it?”

You grinned, leaning up on your toes to press a quick, cold kiss to his lips before darting away. 

“We’ll see, Suki. Better luck next time!”

Katsuki grumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like, “Crazy girl,” but when his eyes met yours, he didn’t deny it. Instead, he gave the smallest nod, as if to concede the point—begrudgingly, of course. You stood, brushing the snow from your clothes before holding your hands up to silence the crowd. The cold air bit at your cheeks, but the warmth of victory—and Katsuki’s heated gaze—kept you steady. 

“Alright, alright, listen up!” you called, your voice carrying over the noise. 

“While I know Katsuki’s... ‘methods’ today might have been a little much—”

“A little?” Shinsou interrupted, arching a brow from where he stood near the sidelines. You shot him a warning glare, an ice ball already forming in your hand. 

“Don’t interrupt me, or else I shall make sure you end up in the ice next time,” you said, your tone deceptively sweet.

He wisely shut up, though a faint smirk tugged at his lips. Turning back to the group, you continued, 

“As I was saying, Katsuki just wanted to play with everyone. He’s not the best at showing it—” you glanced at him, and he scoffed, crossing his arms as if to deflect the attention—“But he privately expressed his regrets, and I think if he says he’s sorry, we should all forgive him. After all,” you added with a grin, 

“He did save your Empress from the flood, didn’t he?”

There was a pause before Shoto, standing just behind you, said dryly, 

“I think that’s letting him off easy, dear sister.”

You smiled, glancing over your shoulder at him. “Forgiveness is one of my virtues as your Empress, kind prince. Maybe you should try it.” Before Shoto could respond, Shinsou piped up again. 

“Yeah? Where were those virtues when Katsuki nearly blew Shoto up earlier?”

Without missing a beat, you hurled the ice ball straight at his face, nailing him squarely in the forehead. 

“I warned you not to try me, Hitoshi,” you clipped, your tone light but with enough edge to make him hold his hands up in surrender, albeit with a chuckle. The laughter subsided as your gaze softened. You turned toward Katsuki, instinctively reaching out to brush your fingers over the scrape on his cheek. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before narrowing again, his jaw tightening as he muttered, “I’m fine. Quit fussing.”

But he didn’t pull away.

The moment lingered, the group falling silent as they watched the two of you. Katsuki’s hand hovered near yours for a moment before he dropped it to his lap, clearly uncomfortable with the attention.

“Well?” you prompted, raising a brow at him. “Don’t you have something to say?”

His glare swept over the group, daring anyone to speak before he finally muttered, 

“Tch… Sorry.”

The reaction was immediate—cheers and laughter erupted, your classmates all grinning as they accepted his rare apology. Kirishima clapped him on the back, earning a string of curses in return, while Mina leaned into Sero, whispering loudly about how “cute” the whole thing was.

You grinned, raising your arms in victory. “See? All forgiven!”

Katsuki groaned, burying his face in his scarf. “Yer all idiots, ‘m fucking surrounded,” he muttered, though the faintest of smirks tugged at his lips. And just like that, the chaos returned, laughter and playful banter filling the air once more. Your husband might be grumpy, but you knew Kats wouldn’t have it any other way—

And neither would you.

Sato, Aoyama, and Tokoyami raise their voices dramatically, calling for cheers to echo across the snowy battlefield for, “The Snow Empress.” Your classmates burst into applause, whoops, and laughter as the victorious mood spreads. You wave to your ‘subjects’ with an exaggerated regal flair, their joyous energy lifting the weight of the icy battle you’d just survived.

A soft crown of snow builds itself upon your hair, the delicate flakes kissing your cheeks and remaining in perfect crystalline patterns on the bone. Ice glitters like tiny diamonds along your exposed neck as you fidget, pulling your cherry red robe tighter around your shoulders. The contrast of its vibrant hue against the snowy backdrop makes you appear otherworldly, even as you shift in place, your furry Juicy Couture baby pink boots sinking slightly into the frost beneath you.

You glance over at the bleachers where Shoto had folded your clothes neatly, retrieving them with careful hands. The snow glistens along the hem of your robe as you slip your white leggings back on, followed by the matching white sweater dress of your hero uniform. The soft fabric hugs you, a stark yet elegant complement to the winter wonderland surrounding you.

Katsuki watches, transfixed. His sharp vermillion eyes linger as your fingers tug at the chain tucked beneath your neckline, gently pulling it free. The glint of metal catches the light—your wedding ring. He sees the reverence in the way you slip it on, the tender care with which you give it a few deliberate turns to ensure it won’t accidentally fall off. It’s such a small act, but it anchors him, rooting him to the moment in a way that nothing else could.

You stretch, exhaling softly, and grab your scarf, gingerly wrapping it around your shoulders. The motion feels regal, every bit as graceful as you appear, your figure framed by the gentle cascade of snow. You look every inch a snow empress—fair, kind, just, and breathtakingly beautiful. Katsuki’s chest tightens as he watches you, his queen.

He doesn’t mind the biting cold, the flurry of snowflakes that dust his own hair, or even the distant sound of Class 1-A laughing and shouting as they play nearby. He doesn’t care about whatever apology he’s been made to give—it doesn’t matter, not when you’re here. As long as he has you, he thinks, everything else fades away.

You are his peace.

As everyone returns to playing in the snow, you feel Katsuki’s rough, calloused fingers slip into yours. He wordlessly pulls off his coat and drapes it over your shoulders, the warmth and faint scent of burnt caramel enveloping you. Before you can thank him, he’s already tugging one of his gloves on your hand and adjusts it properly.

“Ya know somethin’,” you say softly, catching his attention. His crimson eyes dart to yours, confused but curious.

“‘Bout what?”

“About you speaking like you do in those romance novels you secretly read,” you tease, leaning closer. “I liked it. You should do it more often.” His ears turn red instantly, and his mouth opens to protest—but then he pauses, narrowing his eyes. 

“…Really?”

“Mhm.”

You smile warmly, your voice dropping to a playful whisper.

“Truely, very sexy. I was so happy you indulged my games.”

Katsuki adjusts his scarf, clearly trying to cover his flustered expression. Without warning, he grabs your ungloved hand, shoves it deep into his warm pants pocket, and pulls you close enough that your noses nearly touch.

“‘Course I did,” he mutters, his voice gruff yet soft. 

“Yer my wife. ‘m supposed to.”

You melt into his warmth, a contented smile spreading across your face as you snuggle against him. The moment feels peaceful—until you feel a gentle tug on your sleeve.

“Would you help me build a snowman?”

Shoto’s calm, steady voice cuts in. Katsuki scowls at him immediately, but before he can bark out a sarcastic retort, you nod, linking your other hand with Shoto’s.

“Of course! Let’s make the best snowman ever!” you declare, already feeling excitement bubbling up.

Shoto and Katsuki exchange a brief glance, and to your surprise, they share a small, almost imperceptible smile. Katsuki shakes his head and mutters something about how ridiculous this all is before letting you go. The three of you join the others, but as you kneel in the snow to start building, a strange sensation ripples through your body. You feel a tickle in your nose, but before you can react—

“Ack!-Achoo!”

A sudden burst of flame shoots out as you sneeze, singeing a patch of snow. At the same moment, Shoto lets out an equally loud sneeze, accidentally summoning a quick hailstorm that pelts everyone nearby. The two of you fall over, blinking rapidly at the chaos you’ve just caused. Kirishima jogs over, concern in his eyes as he asks,

“Are you guys okay?!”

You’re about to laugh it off when a heavy ominous aura rises behind you. Before you can turn around, you’re suddenly hoisted off the ground and tossed over Katsuki’s shoulder like a sack of flour.

“What the hell—?!” you yelp, flailing slightly.

With his other hand, Katsuki grabs the back of Shoto’s collar like he’s reprimanding a naughty puppy. 

“THIS IS THE FUCKING SHIT I TALK ABOUT!” he yells, his voice echoing across the field.

Everyone bursts into laughter, even Shoto, who looks mildly dazed but surprisingly amused. Katsuki stomps away from the group with both of you in tow, ranting the whole way about,

“Fire quirks, Snow quirks, and dumbass pettiness that’ll kill someone one day.”

Through your laughter, you manage to gasp out,

“Katsuki! Put me down!”

“FUCK NO!”

—————

The soft hum of Divorce Court plays in the background as you sit curled up on the couch, surrounded by layers of blankets that feel like a protective cocoon. Beside you, a small trash bin is stuffed with tissues, the evidence of your persistent sneezes and sniffles. Two cups rest within arm’s reach on the side table—one filled with soda, the other with ice water—and the coffee table in front of you is covered with three bowls of chicken noodle soup, one spicy, one mild, and one piping hot. Despite the thoughtful variety, only two of them are fully eaten, the steam long since dissipated.

You yawn softly, snuggling deeper into your blankets, your eyes fluttering shut for just a moment—until a warm, familiar weight wraps around your shoulders. A pair of strong arms encircle you, and a kiss is pressed to the crown of your head, soft but deliberate. 

You know that touch anywhere.

Before you can even lift your head, Katsuki hops clean over the couch, landing next to you with a thud that makes the floor groan.

“I hate when you do that,” you grumble, your voice hoarse from your cold. “Kills the sectional cushions.”

“Yeah? Couch’ll live,” Katsuki mutters, leaning back and pulling you closer to him despite your complaints. His rough hand rubs gentle circles on your legs back through the blankets, his warmth seeping into you as he glances down at the coffee table. His vermillion eyes narrow when he notices your mostly untouched bowl of soup.

The living room glowed with a warm, golden hue, the soft crackle of the fireplace filling the quiet. The walls were adorned with framed photos—snapshots of your wedding day, candid moments from family dinners, and Katsuki’s rare, begrudging smiles caught on camera. 

Plants in mismatched pots thrived on the windowsills and shelves, trailing vines and vibrant leaves spilling into the cozy space. The large sectional couch, well-worn but plush, was draped in layers of soft throws and knitted blankets, a sign of countless movie nights and lazy Sundays. The shelves were cluttered with life—books with broken spines, small trinkets from vacations, and a few All Might figurines Katsuki swore were for ‘inspiration’. It was a home that had been built and filled with love, laughter, (and the occasional shouting match.)

Katsuki sat on his usual cushion, his nose and cheeks still pink from the biting cold he’d endured earlier, the evidence of your storm clinging faintly to his skin. His ash-blond hair was messy from raking his fingers through it too many times, and he was dressed in his usual "at-home" lounge wear, a black tank top that showed off his muscular arms, (fucking tasty as shit), loose sweatpants that hung low on his hips, and mismatched socks—one gray, one with orange stripes. 

So why the fuck he was focused on the bowl was beyond you. 

His expression was torn somewhere between irritation and concern as he stared down at you, buried under what looked like every blanket in the house.

“Ya didn’t eat it?” he asked, his voice gruff but quieter than usual. His crimson eyes flicked to the bowl of soup sitting on the coffee table, steam no longer rising from it. His frown deepened as he picked it up, inspecting it like it had personally betrayed him.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, retreating further under the fortress of blankets. “I just wasn’t in the mood.”

Katsuki clicked his tongue, glaring at the soup as if it held the answers to all your problems. His hands glowed faintly as he warmed the bowl with practiced ease, steam curling up once more as he gave the soup a stir.

“You need to eat somethin’,” he said firmly, scooping up a spoonful and bringing it toward your face.

“Nooo,” you whined, burrowing deeper into the covers. 

“I don’t wanna.”

“Stop bein’ a brat,” he growled, leaning closer and shoving the spoon just inches from your face.

“ ‘m not hungry!” Your voice was muffled, almost petulant, from beneath the layers.

Katsuki let out a long, exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yer impossible.” He muttered under his breath, but his tone lacked any real bite. Still, he didn’t give up. He set the bowl in his lap and tugged at the edge of your blankets, peeling them back just enough to reveal your face. Your cheeks were pale, your lips slightly chapped, and your eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. His gaze softened, and for a moment, he just looked at you.

“Just one bite,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost coaxing. 

“C’mon, I made it just how you like it. For me, yeah?”

You peeked out from the blankets, meeting his crimson eyes. The warmth in his gaze was hard to ignore, but you still shook your head, stubborn to the end. Katsuki’s jaw tightened, his patience hanging by a thread.

“Alright, fine,” he huffed, shifting closer. “I didn’t wanna do this, but yer askin’ for it.” 

He leaned down, brushing his nose lightly against yours, his breath warm on your face. You can see all his pretty freckles up close and you wanna kiss his eyelashes because damn it, the man looks so pretty. But, as if sensing your distraction, Katsuki raises one firm, very warm hand, up your leg, past your inner thighs and tummy, all the way to rest over your heart, the other hand still holding the bowl. 

“Eat yer soup,” he murmured, his tone low, with a hint of something that sent a shiver down your spine. 

“Please.”

You blinked up at him, the sudden shift in his tone making your resolve waver. His lips ghosted over your forehead, a lingering kiss pressing heat into your skin, and then he smirked against your temple.

“C’mon, sweet princess,” he whispered, voice dripping with a mix of affection and mischief. 

“Be good for your king. Just a bite.”

With a dramatic sigh, you finally gave in, parting your lips slightly. Katsuki grinned triumphantly, scooping up a spoonful of soup and gently feeding it to you. The warmth spread through your body instantly, soothing your throat and melting away a sliver of your stubbornness.

“There,” he whispers, his smirk widening. “See? Told ya ’s good,” he mutters, scooping another bite.

You hummed softly, too tired to argue as you leaned into him, and Katsuki couldn’t help the quiet chuckle that escaped him. His queen—stubborn, infuriating, but his. And as long as you were safe and warm in his arms, he didn’t mind one bit.

“You’re so smug,” you tease, but this time, you don’t hide as he brings the spoon to your lips again.

“Damn right I am,” he replies, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before continuing his self-imposed mission of making sure you eat. You look up at Katsuki after swallowing another spoonful of soup, a playful glint in your tired eyes. “So,” you murmur, voice soft but teasing, “Did you have fun today?”

“Tch,” he grunts, leaning back slightly but keeping his legs planted firmly on the floor. 

“I guess.”

You smile at his nonchalant tone, knowing full well he had a good time. “What was your favorite part, then?”

Katsuki’s eyes narrow slightly as he stares at you, but he doesn’t answer right away.

“Oh, I have to guess, huh?” you say with a mock sigh, tapping a finger against your chin dramatically. “Alright, was it the snowball fight? When Kaminari accidentally got a mouthful of slush because of you?”

He shakes his head.

“Okay, then it was when I got crowned the Snow Empress and made my beautiful kingdom?”

Another shake.

“Hmm, what about when we saw Kirishima try to eat one of the icicles and Shoto had to unfreeze his tongue?”

Katsuki snorts but still shakes his head no.

You list off a few more events; Shoto's sneeze hailstorm, your snowmen army, and even your little moment of chaos in the playground tube, but he remains silent, his smirk growing wider with each wrong guess.

“Alright, I give up!” you huff, throwing your hands up in exaggerated defeat.

“What was it?”

Instead of answering, Katsuki reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a small bottle of medicine.

Your eyes go wide, and before he can say a word, you duck back into the blanket fortress. 

“Nope! Not happening!”

“Oi!” Katsuki growls, his patience snapping. “Don’t start with this shit again!”

You hear the sound of the bottle hitting the coffee table and feel the cushions shift as he climbs onto the couch. A moment later, he’s straddling you, careful not to crush you under his weight as he traps you in place.

“Come out, or I swear—”

“No!” you yell, voice muffled by the blankets.

His rough hands reach down and start poking at your sides, tickling just enough to make you squirm. “You think you can hide from me, huh? You think I won’t win?” You squeal and try to wriggle away, but his hands follow you no matter where you twist or turn.

“And what’s this?” he says, his voice suddenly shifting into a dramatic, Shakespearean tone that makes you freeze. “Dost thou defy thy loyal knight? Thy loving husband who vows to protect thee from thine own stubbornness?”

You huff, peeking out just enough to glare at him. “You have some fucking nerve. Out here taking this too personally.” Katsuki glares back, though his tone stays playful. 

“Damn right I am! Over my dead body am I not taking care of you, ya brat.” You pout, your lip jutting out slightly as you squint at him. Katsuki falters, his tough expression slipping just a bit as he fights the urge to grin.

“Don’t think yer off the hook,” he says, his voice gruff again. But his hand brushes lightly against your cheek, his thumb warm as it grazes your skin. “Now take the damn medicine, and I’ll let you sleep.”

“Promise?” you ask, your voice small but teasing.

He smirks, leaning down so his forehead almost touches yours. “Promise. But you pull this shit again, and I’m ticklin’ ya until you cry.”

With a reluctant sigh, you finally emerge from the blankets, and he holds up the medicine like a prize. You glare at him one last time before taking it, and he watches you with smug satisfaction.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, planting a quick kiss on your forehead.

"Can you both not do that while I’m here?"

The monotone voice cuts through the cozy quiet of the room like a snowball hitting glass. You barely have time to blink before a heavy weight drops onto both you and Katsuki.

“Ugh!” Katsuki grunts, momentarily thrown off balance. He shifts to regain his footing on the couch, one hand bracing against the armrest while the other clamps around your waist to keep you steady.

You, however, are already reaching for the familiar intruder. “Shoto!” you gasp softly, pulling him closer and feeling the coolness of his skin beneath the blanket he dragged with him. “I thought you were sleeping on the chaise?”

Shoto huffs, his expression as stoic as ever, but there’s a slight pout in the way his brows knit together. It’s the look he always gets when he feels left out, though he’d never admit it outright.

“I was,” he replies flatly. “Until the two of you started… whatever this is.” His mismatched eyes glance pointedly at how close you and Katsuki are before settling back on you with a raised brow.

You sigh, brushing your hand across his forehead to check his temperature. His skin feels a little warmer than it should, and you frown. “Sho, you should be resting,” you say softly, your tone shifting to that familiar, soothing one you always use with him.

Katsuki, however, is not so gentle. “The hell is your problem?” he snaps, glaring at Shoto while trying to shove him off. “This is my damn house, and she’s my wife! Go cling to someone else, Half-and-Half!”

Shoto doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he tilts his head slightly and deadpans, “She’s also my twin sister. I have just as much a right to her attention as you do. More, actually. I’ve known her longer.”

Katsuki sputters, his eyes widening in outrage. 

“You—! That’s not how this works, you icy little—”

“Enough,” you interrupt, shooting Katsuki a warning look before turning your attention back to Shoto. “Sho, you need to take your medicine.” Shoto grimaces, his lips pressing into a thin line. 

“I don’t desire to.”

“Shoto,” you say firmly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You’re not going to get better if you don’t take it.”

He doesn’t budge, crossing his arms over his chest like a stubborn child.

You sigh, your patience wearing thin. “Fine,” you say, glancing over at Katsuki with a small, mischievous smirk. 

“I’ll just let Katsuki give you the medicine.”

Both men freeze.

Shoto turns his head slowly, his expression shifting from stubborn to wary as he locks eyes with Katsuki. The blond’s crimson gaze gleams with dangerous amusement, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“You wouldn’t,” Shoto says, his voice low but edged with uncertainty.

“Oh, I absolutely would,” you reply sweetly, sitting back to watch the scene unfold.

For a moment, it’s a silent standoff. Shoto narrows his eyes, and Katsuki cracks his knuckles. Then, before either of you can react, Shoto grabs the bottle of medicine, pops the lid off, and tips it back in one smooth motion.

“Shotooo!” you yell, lunging forward as the bottle tips higher, a waterfall of liquid medicine pouring straight into his mouth. He pulls it away with a slight wince, the bitter taste evident in the way his nose scrunches. 

“There,” he says flatly, handing you the now half-empty bottle. “Happy?”

Katsuki stares at him, his jaw hanging open in disbelief. “What the actual hell is wrong with you?”

You groan, placing the bottle on the table before grabbing Shoto’s face in both hands. “You’re supposed to take a measured dose, not half the bottle! Are you trying to kill yourself?”

“I didn’t want him to give it to me,” Shoto replies simply, casting a side-eye at Katsuki, who looks like he’s about to explode.

“You icy bastard—”

“Katsuki!” you snap, cutting him off before he can launch into another tirade. You shake your head, exasperated, and turn back to Shoto. “Next time, just let me handle it, okay?”

Shoto gives a small nod, looking mildly chastised but not entirely regretful. You sigh and wrap the blanket tighter around him, muttering something about stubborn men under your breath. Katsuki grumbles, crossing his arms as he watches you fuss over Shoto. “Unbelievable,” he mutters.

“Yea, but you love us,~” you tease, leaning back against him with a tired smile.

He huffs but doesn’t argue, pulling you closer while keeping one eye on Shoto.

You guide Katsuki to lay back against the center of the couch, his frame sinking into the plush cushions as his warmth radiates outward. He settles in with a low grumble, but the corner of his mouth twitches in a hint of a smile when you move to your usual spot, draping yourself across his chest. Your head comes to rest just over his heart, the steady, strong beat beneath you both grounding and soothing.

Shoto, ever observant and quietly calculating, watches the scene unfold from his perch at the edge of the couch. His mismatched eyes flick to the other side of Katsuki's chest, and after a moment of contemplation, he decides it’s the most practical place for him to claim. Without a word, he shifts closer and wraps an arm securely around your waist, resting his head against the opposite side of Katsuki's broad frame. 

Katsuki tenses for a second, glancing down at the both of you with a furrowed brow. “What the hell is this?” he mutters, his voice gruff but lacking any real bite.

“Shh,” you whisper, your voice soft and teasing as you pat his chest. “Just let it happen.”

He grumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like ‘wonder twins’ but ultimately relents, his hand instinctively finding its way to rest on your back as he lets out a resigned sigh.

The room settles into a comfortable quiet, the only sounds are the faint hum of the television and the occasional rustle of snow outside. You begin to trace absentminded patterns along Katsuki’s arm, your fingers trailing over the defined muscles and the faded scars scattered across his skin. He doesn’t pull away, allowing you this small indulgence as his breathing evens out.

You lift his hand to your lips, brushing a series of soft kisses along each fingertip. His calloused skin feels rough against your mouth, a stark contrast to the gentleness of your actions. Katsuki watches you through hooded eyes, his expression unreadable but his heart thudding a little harder beneath your cheek.

When you glance up at him, he snorts softly. “Yer weird,” he mutters, but there’s no heat to the words.

“And yet, you married me,” you shoot back with a grin, placing one final kiss on his thumb before he captures your hand in his. He intertwines your fingers with his own, his grip firm but tender, and brings your joined hands to his lips. His mouth brushes over your knuckles, lingering there for just a moment before he lowers them back down to rest on his chest.

“Don’t go fallin’ asleep without me,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough in your ear. The timbre of it sends a shiver down your spine, and you glance up to find him staring at you with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you reply softly, your smile warm as you press closer against him.

Shoto shifts beside you, his arm tightening slightly around your waist as he adjusts his position. He lets out a small, contented sigh, and you feel the tension in your body melt away as you relax fully into Katsuki’s frame. You toy with his hand a little longer, tracing the lines of his palm and pressing playful kisses along his knuckles while his free hand idly strokes your back. Eventually, his voice cuts through the quiet once more, softer this time.

“Yer somethin’ else, ya know that?”

“Mm,” you hum, already drifting on the edge of sleep. “And you love me for it.”

“Yes,” he admits quietly, his lips brushing against your hair as he adds, “Damn right I do.”

Shoto doesn’t say anything, but the slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth says enough. With you snugly sandwiched between them, the three of you find a peace that feels as natural as breathing. Katsuki's chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm beneath your cheek, the weight of his hand resting comfortably against your back. He’s close to drifting off, but the small tug at his shirt is enough to make him stir.

He opens one eye, crimson and groggy, to glance down at you.

“What now?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough from sleep. You tilt your head up, resting your chin on his chest as you look at him with a curious smile. 

“You never told me what your favorite part of the day was.”

His brow furrows slightly, and he gives you a long, unreadable look. “Hah?”

“You know,” you continue, your voice soft as you idly trace circles on his chest. “We did a lot today. What was your favorite part?”

He closes his eye again and exhales deeply through his nose, as if debating whether or not to entertain your question. His hand tightens slightly on your back, a subtle gesture of affection even as he pretends to be annoyed.

“I’m serious,” you insist, nudging him lightly. “Come on, tell me!”

Katsuki cuts you off with a low, tired groan.

“You don’t shut up, do ya?”

“No, she doesn’t—Ow!”

You retracted your foot from a certain brother's shin and pout, tugging at his tank top again. 

“Kat-su-ki.”

His eye cracks open once more, and he stares at you for a long moment, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he’s fighting a smile. Finally, he huffs out a breath and mutters, “Ya really wanna know?”

You nod eagerly, your eyes bright with anticipation as Katsuki looks you over.

You are his best friend, his partner, his whole damn world. 

The one person who could understand him in ways no one else ever could. The one who had seen him at his worst—furious, frustrated, broken—and stood by him anyway, never flinching, never turning away. There wasn’t a single thing he wouldn’t do for you, no mountain he wouldn’t climb, no fight he wouldn’t take on if it meant keeping you safe and happy.

Katsuki had never thought of himself as the type to spoil anyone, but with you? 

He couldn’t hold back. Whether it was remembering the exact brand of tea you liked, surprising you with that book you’d mentioned in passing, or drawing you a bath after a long day because he knew you loved the way it melted your stress away, he was always thinking of you. 

And though he didn’t always say it with words, every little gesture, every thought, was his way of showing just how much he cherished you.

He loved the way your face lit up when he cooked your favorite meals, the way you leaned into his touch when he pulled you into his arms after a long day. He’d bite back his gruff words when you were upset, softening for you in ways he never would for anyone else. If you needed him, he was there—no questions, no hesitation. 

He’d drop everything, no matter the time or place, just to see you smile again.

You are irreplaceable. No one could ever take your place in his heart. You are the one who makes him laugh until his sides hurt, who teases him just enough to keep him grounded, who has become the home he never knew he wanted. You aren’t just his wife; you were his best friend, his partner in crime, the only one who could tame his fiery temper with a look and melt his defenses with a smile.

Katsuki isn’t perfect, and he wouldn’t be the first to admit it, but for you, he tried. He tried to be softer, to show you just how much he adored you in every way he could. Because at the end of the day, you weren’t just the love of his life—

You are his everything.

“Suki?”

He shifts slightly beneath you, adjusting the arm draped over your back before he finally answers. 

“Favorite part was you bein’ a pain in my ass.”

You blink, taken aback. “What?!”

He smirks now, the corner of his mouth pulling up as he looks at you with a lazy, smug expression. Hand trailing dangerously over that one spot on your back that he knew you loved. 

“You heard me. You runnin’ around, causin’ chaos, laughin’ like an idiot… All of it. You’re a pain, but you’re my pain.”

Your cheeks flush, and you bury your face against his chest to hide the smile threatening to spread across your face. “You’re so dumb sometimes,” you mumble, your voice muffled against him. Kat snorts, clearly satisfied with himself as his hand slides up to rest against the back of your head. 

“Yeah, but yer stuck with me.”

“And I love it,” you shoot back, your voice playful despite your embarrassment.

“Damn right you do,” he replies, his voice softening as he presses a kiss to the center of your lips.

In the quiet that follows, you glance over to see Shoto watching the two of you with an unimpressed expression. 

“Could you save the mushy stuff for when I’m not here?”

Katsuki doesn’t even bother looking at him, choosing instead to pull you closer against his chest. “Shut it, Icy Hot. You’re lucky I didn’t kick your ass off this couch.”

Shoto sighs dramatically, but he doesn’t move from his spot curled against your side. You chuckle softly, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest as you let yourself relax fully into their embrace. 

This, right here, was your favorite part of the day.

“I forgot my tea mug at the park.”

“FOR FUCKS SAKE!"

@willnetries, I HEARD SOMEONE CALL FOR DESSERT!!

This was my first time trying to write the whole of class 1a into a fic and I need to lay down.

I DON'T OWN THE IMAGES!!!!

My requests are free and open.

Taglist from both of my master lists because I need to feed the cats: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, the-dumpster-fire-of-life, @raendarkfaerie, @bunny-b34r, icey-wonders, @adherethecomingofage, @karaartioli-blog, @meoweoeoeosme, @faithisxreading, @faithisidking, @oh-kayyy-stan-bts, @shortie-chocolate, @rosaline756. @sweetlike-sugarplum. @aespie, @dancingqueen276, @erensbbg, @lillizxzz,

Master lists in question: Katsuki's Sugar baby, Katsuki's Ex who secretly had his baby

My master list is a work in progress but there's plenty more Katsuki, Aizawa, and other characters if you request them. Ao3 is sexy too.

You can also tip me a coffee if you want. (Just made it, so excited! \(≧▽≦)/ <33)

Remember: Comments and likes, they really help. Don't be afraid to leave me a sexy little reblog too.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡ -Angie

[atsadi-shenanigans]

FSBE 10 - I Won't Say It

The rogue has a sudden, horrifying realization.

On AO3.

Eleanor’s blood surges into Astarion’s mouth. It’s been days of nothing. A few remaining swills in old bottles, taken from vermin in the Underdark and grown tacky and coagulated. Days of uncertainty, the cold vice twisting in his guts, and the utter ruin and darkness around them. She would learn magic. She wouldn’t need him anymore. Would cast him aside.

But now she’s the first ray of sunshine after a terrible night. Pure, golden light burning away the haze of doubt, of fear, of everything that isn’t her warmth and her life. Even the acrid aftertaste of some worry in her can’t diminish the glory of her hot blood coating his tongue, his throat, his gullet.

She keens above him, grinds hard against his hand and rides her pleasure there. He tastes it. The height of her passion. The sweet, sweet ecstasy of her climax and he moans against her. Is barely aware of tugging his hand out of her trousers so he can clutch her, capture her to him.

The pleasure roils through them both. From her body and her blood into him. Their gasps indistinguishable. By the gods, he’s tasted her after, but during?

His cock aches, fully hard. Only marginally aware of how he ruts up against her. Both of them still clothed, but she’s so glorious, tastes so good. Her orgasm echoes back into him and he has to have more. Needs more. Grinds faster, faster against her, chasing after her even though his form is terrible, it’s hardly the practiced picture of eroticism and he must impress, must always maintain—

Her hand brushes his ear. It’s an accident, he thinks. He hasn’t told her about that. She’s simply got her fingers buried in his hair (finally), modesty abandoned as he laps at her neck. But her thumb brushes right up the side and it’s an erogenous area, certainly, but hardly enough to—

His belly pulls tight. Bollocks throb. Oh gods, he’s going to, can’t stop it, breaks off but it’s too late—

He spills right into his undergarments.

One moment of bliss. Hot pleasure snapping through him and the relief that follows.

And then the reality of the situation crashes down.

Eleanor straddles his lap. Her neck and shoulder smeared in blood. Iron and decadent life in his mouth, sticky over his lips and chin. She pants and shudders in his grasp, and he has both his hands on her plush hips.

The wet patch in his trousers.

Oh dear gods.

He barely restrains himself from shoving her off. Barely. Pulls back and she’s bright red. His own cheeks are…warm. He can’t remember the last time he flushed. Never had enough blood—just pieces of cockroach shell stuck between his molars. But now? Fed? Spilling into his trousers like an overeager, untrained boy?

“I,” he tries. “Ah.”

Untouched. Still clothed. Not even in service to a mark. He just…came.

Can’t afford that. Has never been an issue. A mistake. He’s made a terrible mistake and he cannot afford that. Not here. Not with her.

He doesn’t want to look at her. He usually prefers to do this from behind, so he doesn’t have to see their face, so they don’t kiss him more than he has to. Especially when they’re sweet. When they want to give back.

And now he’s made an utter fool of himself. She’ll know enough to work that out. She’ll be laughing at him. Which means all of camp will be laughing at him. The experienced lover, the seducer, the rake. With come in his trousers.

But he does. Look at her. Thoughts spinning, trying to come up with some excuse.

She…is not laughing. Still blushing. But almost, almost happy?

“You okay?” she says instead of hitting him or spitting mockery. He bites back a fake laugh. Instinctively smooths his face into something he hopes is pleasant. Chagrined, perhaps. “Terribly sorry, pet. I was, ah, overwhelmed, it seems.”

She does not sneer. She does not grab him by the throat and crack his head against the bed frame. She does not (cannot) summon Godey to teach him better manners.

She simply…smiles. Such a soft thing. Nearly bashful. Brushes one of his curls out of his eyes.

But he’s still sitting beneath her with come in his smallclothes. It’s going to become more disgusting the longer he sits there (the thought of her commanding him outside to show everyone what a pathetic mistake he is).

She does move, then, and he can’t help but tense. But she only leans in, and her soft lips brush over his forehead. She stays like that a moment, and he stares at the front of her throat. Then it’s her turn to pull away.

“Was that, um, okay? Me kissing you?”

It’s the type of thing lovers might do. Genuine. Tender.

He’s going to be sick.

“Of course, darling. But you should take a potion.” Because she’s still bleeding. “Because you’re still bleeding.”

Perfect. Something for her to focus on that isn’t him tucking his tail and getting out of there.

“Right.” She slides off and reaches for her pack.

He does not bolt (a near thing). Merely waits for her to find a potion and uncork it. And then gracefully (not at all grimacing) rolls to his feet.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” he says. Gods. Even his ears feel warm. He’s being pitiful.

She nods. Glances once to his groin and then away.

His insides are cold again. Despite all the hot blood he’s lapped up. It’s from her. The way she looks at him. Her…her softness at him.

He heads for the tent flap.

“Astarion?” she says. Quiet. Hesitant. When he turns, “If you want, you could always stay the night? After, uh. Or not! Whichever.”

His face feels made of stone, but he forces a smile anyway. “Of course, darling.”

She relaxes. Looks so small and young and innocent. Hopeful. Because he’s her first. Because she doesn’t know better. Because she thinks this is real.

“Do excuse me, however,” he says. Finally claws his way outside.

The rest of camp sleeps. Or lies awake on their bedrolls facing away. No one is around to witness his shame as he darts for his own tent.

He doesn’t need to drink water, but he does require it to wash up. He has a skin in there for that very purpose. He all but dives into his tent, and then nearly shreds his trousers getting them off.

Stupid. Stupid. Pathetic little boy.

And her. A besotted…cow. To be so soft with him. Like he’s a thing wounded. A thing frightened. Like she could see his shame. How dare she. He’s using her, by the gods. And she’s too stupid to realize it. Their illustrious leader, their tactical alien. Too foolish to know better than to let a vampire into her neck, into her trousers. To think he desires her. To think this could be anything but what it actually is: a meal and a brief fuck.

She’s the pathetic one. Being used. And trying to be, ugh, kind to him. She deserves this. Deserves to be humiliated. Used up and cast aside once he no longer has use for her. That’s her role, even if she’s too naive to know it.

He scrubs himself. Scrubs his clothing.

That she did this to him. He can’t stand it. He imagines the way this will end. They’ll slaughter this Absolute cult and remove the tadpoles. Somehow, they’ll have killed that bastard and he won’t need any of them anymore.

And then she’ll turn to him. Proud of herself. Thinking they’ve won. That he’ll sweep her off her feet and carry her into some sunset (that doesn’t burn him to ash). He will be her one, true love, happily for the ages like some cheap storybook.

But he’ll smile at her, on that day. And tell her everything.

Of course they didn’t have something more. That’s not who he is. This isn’t how the world works. And she’ll understand that all of this, all of it, was a lie. Her purpose will be served, and he’ll have no more obligation to her. He’ll be free.

And she…

Her face. Her dark eyes and the way they light up when she finds him. She keeps herself so carefully blank. Holds herself in so tightly, he’s not sure any of the others have heard her genuine laugh. Have seen that sparkle in her eye. Heard her voice lift as she talks about some catastrophe or horrific plague.

She keeps herself to herself. He’s seen enough of her memories (and has sorted them out enough by now) to understand why. It’s very sensible. She’s done it as long as she can remember because it kept her safe. Until now. Until she, like an utter fool, invited in a vampire.

She let her guard down for him. Let him see past that mask she wears. Because she trusts him.

He imagines the future in which he explains, in detail, his victorious plan, and he imagines the way the light in her eyes would die. The way that terrible stillness would lock over her features. Because she, too, knows that showing pain is a weakness.

And it would be his doing.

His chest is tight. He instinctively inhales. Or tries to. It comes out a strangled wheeze and he curls in over himself. It…hurts.

Why? Why should he hurt? That’s the way the world is. He knows it. He thought her sensible enough to know it.

He manages a weak gasp. The pain only worsens. What the hells is wrong with him. Why should imaging her pain cause him to…

The thought flits along the edge of his mind. A falling star against the cold, uncaring sky. Everything around him seems to still.

No. No, that’s not…it can’t be. Ridiculous. Impossible. Not even he is that stupid.

But the thought doesn’t go away. It branches out, roots finding all the little cracks in his mind. The weeks of wondering, the way his dead heart wants to flutter when her gaze seeks him out and finds him across the camp and she gives that tiny, shy smile. The way her skin smells. The way she finally allowed herself to touch him tonight, and she doesn’t touch anyone but the owlbear cub. The life in her blood and the way it calls to him. Just for him.

No. Absolutely not.

The taste of her mouth. The warmth of her tent and her touch. The way she watches him when he talks, doesn’t even look away in boredom, never rolls her eyes (unless he makes a bad joke). The way she asks him things. And then listens to him.

The gentleness of her lips on his forehead even after he failed her and made a spectacle of himself.

He…wants.

“No,” he hisses.

But it’s too late. The thought has wound itself deep into him. Slithered into all the broken corners of his mind and it will not be dislodged.

“No.” The word comes out a sickly whine. Which turns into a choked laugh. A wretched giggle.

Astarion claws his fingers into his own hair. Folds over his knees. Sinks to the ground. Oh gods.

Oh gods.

[ryoko-loves-roses]

Would You Like to Play a Game?

Ler!Gi-Hun + Lee!In-Ho

A/N: This was sitting in my documents with like 600 words so I just decided to finish it LOL. I hope you guys like it! Thank you to whoever suggested it! Let me know your thoughts :) Summary : For the first time in his life, In-Ho got caught off-guard, and this time, Gi-Hun was sure to make him pay. ═════════════════════════════════════════ Oh… How Gi-Hun only wished he boarded the plane. He wished he escaped this hellhole. He wished with all his might that he left this in the past. He lost his spark, the hope he had long before he met the recruiter. Ever since he left the stupid island the first time, he only vowed to get revenge, to find out the truth. But - He now wished he didn’t. ”Witness the consequences of your little hero game.” The Frontman’s low voice rang out as the pink guards surrounded both Gi-Hun and Jung-Bae. Gi-Hun could only watch as the Frontman pointed the gun he was holding right at Jung-Bae’s head. As the two friends made eye contact, both terrified, Jung-Bae spoke his last words. ”Gi-Hun -” *He was then shot dead, leaving no room for pleading. Gi-Hun jerked at the gunshot, his eyes widening with pure fear. “No!” He screamed out, “Jung-Bae!” At this point, Gi-Hun has witnessed both of his childhood best friends die in front of his eyes, and it was all caused by the same man. As Jung-Bae stopped moving, Gi-Hun’s head jerked over at the black-masked man, his eyes filled with pure anger. “You!” Gi-Hun tried to run toward the Frontman with anger clouding his vision, but one of the pink guards quickly put his knee on Gi-Hun’s back, pushing him back to the ground. Gi-Hun could do nothing but scream as his heart broke, next to his best friend, who was shot dead in cold blood. His vision was blurred as his heart broke, for the second time… And as In-Ho in the mask walked away, he had a tiny smirk, secretly enjoying Gi-Huns suffering. the man VOWED to make. him. pay. Nothing mattered anymore. He wanted.. No… NEEDED to find out who was behind the mask. Who was making his life hell? And most importantly, WHO killed two of his most beloved childhood best friends? Before In-Ho knew it, he was suddenly being choked out by strong arms... Hyun-Ju’s arms. His first instinct was to try and pry those strong arms off of his neck as he began to choke. Still, when that didn’t work, he tried to reach for his walkie-talkie. Still, before he could talk into it to notify anyone about his situation, Gi-Hun came in front of him, forcefully taking the walkie talkie from him, and smashing it on the ground into small, tiny pieces, a look of pure hatred on his face. For the first time in In-Ho’s life, he was caught off-guard. His breath was becoming more shallow, and before he knew it -everything went black. -

The one light above In-Ho’s unconscious body was flickering rapidly, the cold, cement floor underneath him which his bare feet touched. And suddenly, he was jolted awake - The first thing he noticed was that his mask was gone - fuck fuck fuck. How the hell could he be so stupid? Where were his guards? Did he have too much on his mind that he couldn’t notice his surroundings? His thoughts were going haywire, but they stopped once someone walked into view. “Player 456..” In-Ho said with a hoarse voice since he just woke up from being unconscious for who knows how many hours. Gi-Hun’s face was vacant of emotion, but anyone with a brain could tell he was heartbroken that his friend that ‘believed in him’, was the same person that made his life hell. “Young-il, or should i say.. The Frontman.” In-Ho glared up at Gi-Hun, his hands tensing in the cuffs as he did so. “I should applaud you… that you got this far.” Gi-Hun walked forward, the heels of his shoes clicking with every step. “Why?” ..Why? Well, that was a question In-Ho couldn’t quite answer yet. Years ago, his brother asked him the same question, and it’s been eating him alive. Why, why, why. In-Ho’s stoic expression faltered a little bit, well - as much as it could, that is - “I didn’t mean for this to happen. You don’t understand.” As much as In-Ho tried to reason with the man in front of him, he couldn’t help but doubt himself as well… He felt so alone, even as The Frontman. Was this really what he wanted to do? Gi-Hun narrowed his eyes, not believing his former friend, now enemy - for a single second. He walked toward In-Ho who was still strapped to the chair, practically invading his personal space. “You don’t get to determine that, now do you?” Gi-Hun’s voice was now dark, filled with something as strong as hatred. As much as the man really wanted to, he couldn’t truly hate a person, especially if that person was someone he once called a friend. In-Ho’s eyes narrowed, his gaze darkening. “Why the hell am I restrained, anyway?” At that question, Gi-Hun let out a sigh, his expression turning more emotionless like before. “Because…” He started to speak, his voice dropping down to a dangerous level. “I’m going to make you feel the pain i’ve been feeling for years.”

Now, In-Ho would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t a bit worried. He had no damn idea where his guards were, or where any of the other players were. He looked around the room once more, and he could tell it must be an isolated part of the island. His gaze then landed back on Gi-Hun. “...bring it on.” In-Ho retorted, his voice barely above a whisper. His pride and dignity was too strong to let out any sort of plea right now, so if that means he gets beat up in the process… so be it. Gi-Hun’s eyes narrowed as he scoffed. “Really? You aren’t going to fight it, huh?” He commented dryly, and for a brief moment, it looked like In-Ho wasn’t going to respond as he glanced away, so - Gi-Hun didn’t know what came over him, but he shot a hand out, suddenly squeezing In-Ho’s side harshly, which made him jolt in the chair, unable to hold back the gasp that left his lips. Now it was Gi-Hun’s turn to be surprised - what the fuck was that? “... I didn’t squeeze that hard. Did that hurt?” He questioned, as he was genuinely curious. In-Ho knew what the hell happened - which is exactly why the embarrassment rushed to his cheeks, turning them a shade of pink. Gi-Hun’s eyebrow raised, and for an experiment, he decided to squeeze In-Ho’s side once more, not truly getting it the first time - Once again, In-Ho jolted in the chair, yelping in mere surprise, and since he couldn’t help it, a faint giggle slipped past his lips -

Bingo~ Gi-Hun froze, and just like that, an evil smile tugged at his lips. “Are you..” “No.” “You are… aren’t you..?” God - In-Ho was really in for it now. “Listen, Gi-Hun I -” In-Ho was cut off by 10 digits digging into his sides, which immediately made him cave over, bursting into laughter. “Fuhuhuhuck!” Gi-Hun’s smirk only widened, not slowing down for anything. “Tough luck… I was going to do much worse things, so you should be glad I found this out before it was too late.” The former player taunted, and even though In-Ho didn’t want to admit it, this childish tactic was getting to him. He curled his toes involuntarily as his midsection clenched and unclenched - fuck. This was way too much for the stoic Frontman, as much as he wanted to deny it. “Fuhuhuhuck yohohhou! BihihiihiHIIHitch-!” Gi-Hun let out a low whistle. “Such language, eh… Don’t worry though, I’ll fix that.” As Gi-Hun verbally teased In-Ho even more, his hands moved underneath the brunet’s shirt, drilling into his ribs with one hand, but scratching underneath In-Ho’s chin with his other hand. fucking hell. Who knew Gi-Hun could be merciless when he wanted to be? People who thought that the guy was just a ball of kindness and sunshine were dead wrong. In-Ho was now shrieking with laughter, trying to kick and flail, but the restraints held him tight - “IHIHIHILL KIHIHIHILL YOHOHOHOU F-FOHOR THIIHIHHIS!!”

It was an empty threat. In this position, In-Ho couldn’t do anything and both of them knew that. Gi-Hun laughed tauntingly. “In this position?” In-Ho doubled over, his mouth agape as laughter fell out of his lips with no resistance at all - if he could slap the shit out of Gi-Hun right at this moment, he definitely would. Gi-Hun’s smirk widened even further when In-Ho began to scrunch up his neck like a turtle, trying to get Gi-Hun’s finger away from that sweet spot that makes him oh-so ticklish. “Oh no you don’t…” Gi-Hun gripped onto the back of In-Ho’s hair with a soft touch, easily forcing his head back, and immediately scribbling his 5 free fingers on the vulnerable man’s neck - To say In-Ho squealed would be an understatement. All of In-Ho’s pride went out the fucking window as he began to beg. “PLE - EHheHAHAHa-! FUUHUHUCk-! PLEHEHEHEAsSE-!” This was already the most humiliating thing The Frontman has ever been through… but what Gi-Hun said next was the icing on the cake. “You have the guts to kill hundreds of people every year, but you can’t get tickled for even 10 minutes? How childish are you?” His comment stung, but In-Ho could do nothing but laugh, silently hoping that the man had mercy. Eventually though, Gi-Hun stopped the tickle torment, retracting his hands, finally letting In-Ho catch his breath. He backed away, crossing his arms with a smirk as In-Ho fell limp in the chair. “Had enough?” Gi-Hun asked with a smirk, which earned a tired glare from In-Ho. “Y-you… will pay for t-that..” His brown hair was a mess, and even though Gi-Hun tried to push the thought away, In-Ho looked extremely adorable like this - Gi-Hun smirked, leaning closer, basically inches from In-Ho’s face. - “i’d like to see you try.”

[friedchops]

Boy Next Door -

Satoru x Reader, 18+ MDNI, cheating, infidelity, lonely housewife x boy next door, cougar x cub, mommy/baby boy dynamics kinda?, reader is older, fem!reader. A/N the reader is a bit of a southern belle

Chapter 1?

The morning sun spills golden light across the quiet street as you stand at the door, watching your husband pull out of the driveway. You kissed him on the cheek as a goodbye, the same way you always do—light, practiced, distant. He barely looked at you, barely muttered a word before driving off to whatever keeps him too busy to notice you anymore. You sigh softly, rinsing your hands off in the sink to wash away the sticky remnants of sugar and lemon juice, drying them on your apron. But then something catches your eye through the window.

A jogger, gliding down the street with effortless ease.

White hair. Eyes as blue as the summer sky. And—oh. Oh.

He’s shirtless.

The breath leaves your lungs in a slow, silent exhale as your gaze follows the lean, defined lines of his torso, the way his muscles flex with each stride. He’s young—too young, probably—but that doesn’t stop the warmth from curling low in your stomach, something you haven’t felt in… goodness, how long?

He moves with an easy, effortless grace, muscles shifting beneath sun-kissed skin, his face half-hidden beneath a mess of white hair. You don’t mean to stare, but—well, you are only human.

“What is he doing?” You mutter under your breath, shaking your head. Fool. Doesn’t he know it’s hot outside? The kind of heat that makes the air shimmer and your skin feel like it’s burning the moment you step outside. Honestly, you could probably fry an egg on the sidewalk.

But as much as you want to admire the way his muscles move under the light, you’re too busy being concerned. Does he even realize how dangerous it is to be out in this heat, shirtless, all sweaty? The sight of him is practically a warning sign for dehydration.

It’s ridiculous—there’s no need to look like that for a jog. You bite your lip, a motherly instinct kicking in that has you more worried about his health than the way his body glistens under the sun.

You lean your hip against the counter, still absently wiping your hands as you watch him run down the street, footsteps pounding with every stride.

And then—he looks up.

You’re caught.

But instead of looking away, he grins—wide, easy, utterly unashamed—and lifts a hand in greeting.

He’s waving at you.

A flash of heat rushes to your cheeks. You haven’t felt seen in so long that it nearly knocks the breath out of you. You’ve been doing this same routine every day for the past fifteen years, ever since you were married off to a man who barely looks at you unless it’s to sigh about something. And here’s this young man, casually passing by and acknowledging your existence like it matters.

It’s been so long since you’ve had anyone truly notice you, like you’re not just a housewife with a fading apron and a tired smile. Your husband always says you’re too overbearing, too needy, always fussing over every little thing, especially with him. He can’t even stand when you try to plan meals or offer to help with anything, like your attention is a burden. It’s not that you want to be overwhelming. You just—well, you wish someone would care enough to notice. To ask how your day’s been. Maybe it’s silly, but the thought of someone actually looking at you, as if you were more than just the woman who makes his coffee or irons his shirts, stirs something in your chest.

You blink, your heart thumping in your chest as you awkwardly wave back, unsure of what to do with the sudden surge of emotion. But just as quickly, you find your hand falling to the curtain, fingers gripping it and pulling it shut with a soft tug.

You’re embarrassed. It’s silly. You shouldn’t feel this flustered over a simple wave from a stranger, but there it is—this deep, sudden awareness of just how little human interaction you’ve had lately. You shut the curtains, hoping the coolness of the room will calm you, but the warmth in your chest doesn’t go away.

The next time you see him, it’s deliberate. You’re outside, pretending to tend to the porch plants, a pitcher of hand-squeezed lemonade sweating on the table. You don’t have to wait long.

“Hey!” His voice is bright, teasing as he jogs up, all long limbs and glowing skin. He leans against your fence without an ounce of hesitation, flashing that same grin.

You clear your throat, offering a polite smile. “You look like you could use somethin’ cold to drink, sugar.”

“Ma’am, you might just be my new favorite person,” he says, his grin stretches wider, like you’ve just given him the best news all day.

You laugh softly, pouring a glass and stepping forward to hand it to him. His fingers brush yours—just barely, but enough that you feel the heat of his skin.

“You always make lemonade for strangers, or am I special?”

You laugh, surprising yourself. “Depends. Do you always charm women on their porches, or am I special?”

His eyes flicker with amusement, like he’s caught a particularly fun challenge. “Oh, I like you,” he muses, reaching for the offered glass. “Satoru, by the way.”

You already figured he’d have a name that suits him. Something playful. A little too bold.

“Well, Satoru, try not to drop dead from heatstroke out here.”

He hums in satisfaction as he sips, then pauses—too close now, leaning just enough to make you notice. His nose nearly brushes your hair before he inhales, long and

“You smell good.”

The words are too casual, too honest. You freeze, pulse kicking up. He doesn’t move away.

“Your husband around?” he asks next, and it’s so smooth, so effortlessly curious, that you almost don’t hear the underlying note of something else.

“At work,” you say, unaware of the way his gaze lingers.

“Kids?”

You shake your head. His grin softens, something knowing in his expression.

“Guess that means you’ve got a lot of free time.”

And just like that, you realize—this boy, this charming, ridiculous man, doesn’t know boundaries at all.

As the days turn into weeks, Satoru finds himself growing increasingly comfortable in your presence. He lounges on your couch, his muscular frame taking up far more space than he should, as you both watch television together. His hand often finds its way to your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze or a playful pat, always with the excuse that it's just his cultural norm.

One evening, as a particularly intense scene plays out on the screen, Satoru suddenly winces, rubbing his temples.

“Migraine," he grunts, his voice strained with pain. Without waiting for an invitation, he nestles his head into your soft, pillowy breasts, sighing in relief as he feels their comforting warmth envelop him.

“Poor, baby,” you murmur, gently rubbing his scalp to soothe his ‘headache.’ Having no kids and an absent husband means a lot of love to give, and who better to share that with than a man new to southern hospitality?

"Mmm, thank you, y/n," he murmurs, his voice muffled by your chest. "You're so kind to let me rest here." He nuzzles deeper, his lips lightly grazing your skin as he seeks solace in your nurturing embrace. His hands come up to rest on your hips, gripping them gently as he presses himself closer, taking advantage of your natural inclination to care for others.

“Oh,” you gasp as you feel him tuck his nose into your neck and smelling your perfume. This is so far from being appropriate, you’re old enough to be his mother for crying out loud.

And then, he presses a gentle kiss to your throat, humming softly as he presses his weight against you.

“What are you doing,” you ask, trying to keep the shakiness out of your voice as Satoru's hands roam over your curves, caressing and squeezing the soft, womanly figure of your body. He takes advantage of the instinctive tilt of your head, his lips and teeth and tongue exploring the column of your neck with a newfound hunger. A low, appreciative groan rumbles in his chest as he inhales your scent, feeling your body melt against his own.

"It's just a custom where I'm from," he lies, his breath hot against your skin. "Showing affection and appreciation for the ones we care about." He places another kiss, his lips lingering a moment longer this time. His hands on your hips tighten slightly, pulling you a little closer as he loses himself in the comfort and warmth of your embrace. You’re so fucking soft, so warm, so loving.

He tilts his head to look up at you, his blue eyes dark and smoldering with unspoken emotions. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he raises a hand to cover yours on his scalp, guiding it to the back of his neck. His skin is warm and slightly damp from the heat, the dampness seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt.

"You have such a gentle touch," he whispers, his gaze locked with yours. "And such a kind heart. I feel lucky to have you as my neighbor, y/n."

As he speaks, his other hand begins to wander, his fingers tracing idle patterns on the smooth skin of your thigh. The touch is feather-light, almost teasing, but it sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“Sweetheart, we don’t do things like this head, okay?” You murmur softly, moving the hair out of his face, trying to ignore the throb between your legs.

“It hurts,” he whines into your neck, slipping between your legs to rock his aching cock against the fabric of your skirt. “Can you make it go away? Please?”

“Baby,” you gasp, trying to catch your breath while he rocks against you, his brows knitted together. “We can’t do this, I’m married.”

"I know I'm new to all this, but I'm a fast learner," he whispers, his breath hot and heavy against your ear. "And right now, my sweet southern belle, I'm feeling a little… lost." He punctuates his words with a roll of his hips, pressing the growing evidence of his arousal against the curve of your ass. "Tell me, beautiful, how do you usually handle such situations down here in the South?"

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

James chuckled, shaking his head at Homelander’s teasing. “Oh, I remember it well. That insufferable smugness, the constant need to be the center of attention, your endless preening—and yet, I couldn’t look away.” He sighed, feigning exasperation but unable to keep the fondness from his voice. “Yes, I was drawn to you first, but let’s not pretend you didn’t thrive on the chase, my darling.” His fingers traced slow, idle circles. “And now here you are, all mine. ” He smirked, though there was nothing but warmth in his gaze.

He hummed, nodding at the thought of modernizing vampirism. “Mmm, though I do enjoy the mystery and superstition. It keeps mortals wary. Fear is a powerful tool, one that has ensured our kind’s survival. But I suppose there’s something to be said about evolving with the times.” He let out a soft laugh at Homelander’s eagerness. “Careful now, my fledgling. You might find that I take my role as teacher very seriously. No shortcuts, no favoritism. If you want to master this, you’ll have to earn it.” He leaned in, his lips just barely grazing Homelander’s ear.

But the teasing faded slightly as he felt the shift in Homelander’s emotions. The uncertainty, the curiosity, the hunger. His lips curled into something more primal, more knowing. Oh, his beloved was beginning to understand, beginning to crave. That realization, the acceptance of what he was becoming, sent a thrill down James’s spine. Their bond buzzed with energy, with anticipation. And then, oh, the images—he let them spill from his mind to Homelander’s. The hunt. The chase. The shared euphoria of capturing prey, of sinking into warm, pulsing flesh together, of drinking deep while tangled in one another.

A groan slipped past James’s lips before he could stop it, his fangs lengthening instinctively. Even though he had fed earlier, the thought of it—of them, of feeding together—stirred something deep inside him too. His hunger nagging him. Breathing in Homelander’s scent, hearing the heartbeat that called to him like a siren’s song. His hands gripped Homelander’s waist, steadying him as he fought against the hunger clawing at his insides.

He exhaled sharply, forcing control. “Not now,” he murmured, regret thick in his voice, but firm. His fingers caressed Homelander’s jaw, his thumb brushing over those sharp, new fangs with reverence. “The sun will be up soon. It weakens me, slows me. Hunting in daylight is dangerous.” He pressed a kiss to Homelander’s lips, slow and lingering. “Tonight,” he promised, voice thick with anticipation. “Tonight, I will take you hunting, and we will feed as one.”

James smirked as he felt the racing thump of his fledgling’s heart, his excitement so palpable it was intoxicating. “Patience, my love,” he murmured, though he knew full well the agony of waiting. His own hunger burned, his own need gnawed at the edges of his restraint. “I promise you—it will be worth it.” His fingers curled in Homelander’s hair, tugging slightly as his smirk widened. “And until then… perhaps I can keep you occupied.” His voice dropped to a low, sultry whisper, his lips brushing against Homelander’s throat.

Yes, tonight they would hunt. But for now, James would ensure that the hunger did not consume them completely.

SupeVamp Hybrid

[rarepairdumpster]

Vampire AU #2 - Part 2

Part 1

Pairing: Viktor/Silco (Arcane) Rating: M C/W: Vampire Silco, Blood, Sick Viktor, Vampire Transition, Doing what we want with Vampire rules

Viktor starting to get sick and Silco can taste it in his blood and he knows it's terminal.

By this time Silco has already become very attached to Viktor and struggles with himself because after Vander he promised he would never change anyone else.

Viktor being upset when Silco pulls back from his neck after barely a lap of his blood. More so, when Silco presses a handkerchief to his mouth, as if to soak up the taste.

Silco's instincts tell him to run but he's unable to when Viktor looks up at him with concern and longing. 

"Did you eat differently?" Silco asks, already knowing the answer.

"I ate the basket you gave me," Viktor answers immediately, reaching for him. "What's wrong? Why do you look so....anxious?"

Silco sighs, running a hand through his hair. "In your blood, I can taste..." He reaches forward and cups Viktor's cheek. "You need to visit the doctor immediately."

Viktor is alarmed by the faint break in Silco's voice. 

"Okay," Viktor whispers.

Viktor goes still and then his face twists, full of emotion.

"Please, don't -- don't leave me, Silco. Whatever it is, I can get better...I will get better." 

No, you won't, Silco thinks to himself.

"I have to go," Silco still has to feed tonight, even if it won't be Viktor. "I'll be back. I promise." He pulls Viktor into a kiss, the disease burning his tongue, but the taste of Viktor's mouth is more overpowering.

Viktor voice is small as he clings to him a little longer, a little tighter, asking "But you won't....do the other things.....with....someone else?" 

Silco cups his face. "No one tempts me, as you do."

When Silco comes again, Viktor has the results from the doctor on his nightstand. Viktor is curled up in a ball and doesn't move, even when Silco sits on the bed and puts a hand on his arm.

"You knew," Viktor says quietly, bitter note in his voice. "You knew." 

"Yes." 

The admission is quiet....sad.

And then a broken keen escapes Viktor as he turns his face deeper into the pillow.

"I don't want to die."

Silco takes a deep breath. "That's why I came." 

Viktor stills for a moment. "To say goodbye?"

"To offer an alternative," Silco says quietly, the words paining him, because he knows....if Viktor accepts....it'll never be the same between them again.

Viktor won't feel so warm and vibrant and alive in his arms, and his mind will be silent to him. His blood will never taste as sweet.

Viktor finally turns to Silco. "You mean..."

"Yes," Silco can see he hasn't been sleeping and likely not eating either. He runs a hand through Viktor's hair and brings it to rest on his cheek. "If that is what you truly want."

The gleam in Viktor's eyes makes him feel uneasy.

"But I warn you.....the transition isn't easy. You....you may wish you'd died. And then you will have to adjust to....everything."

Viktor swallows. "How many have you...turned?"

"Just one other," Silco sighs. "Centuries ago."

"Where is he?" 

Silco hesitates for a long moment and then says, "Ashes. I killed him after he attempted to do the same to me. Took a while to recover from his brutality, but age affords me a strength to endure that fledglings lack."

"Did you also..."

"Love him?" Silco looks softly at Viktor as the boy processes what he just said. "Yes. He was very different from you, though."

"I would never do what he did," Viktor says fiercely, face set with the same kind of conviction he wears when he speaks about the injustices he witnesses in the world.

And Silco smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Come now," Silco lets out a breath, knowing he needs to do this now before he talks himself out of it yet again. "We have to be finished before morning." 

"Wait," Viktor grabs Silco's arm. "When I change, I'll be...different. Physically." 

Silco nods. "Yes. Any physical ailments will go away. Your disease and your leg."

Viktor shakes his head. "No. My blood. It won't taste the same, will it?"

"Your blood will never taste as sweet as it was," Silco answers, expression softening, "but it won't taste sick either. It will be different. Like mine. It wouldn't sustain me, but could be enjoyed from time to time."

Viktor lets go of Silco's wrist and looks down. "Why then?"

Silco lifts Viktor's chin. "Do you really think that I've continued this solely because of your blood?"

Viktor looks away, shrugging weakly, and Silco gets flashes of Vktor being told that he's a worthless cripple over and over, that he'd never amount to anything, etc

"Your blood may have brought me to you," Silco explains "but your beauty and your brilliance kept me returning." He tucks Viktor's hair behind his ear. "And now, I find the idea of continuing without you to be very painful."

Viktor looks at him again, eyes watering.

"You would miss me, if I...." 

"I would mourn you for the rest of my existence," Silco admits, hand lingering where he'd tucked Viktor's hair.

Viktor reaches up and clutches his hand tightly.

"I want this. I want you. Forever." 

And Silco doesn't waste time. He scoops Viktor into his arms, tucking his face against his neck, and then he runs, so fast that the world feels like a blur.

Silco carries him to his home, with its electronic blackout blinds set to a careful timer. 

Silco sets him on the large plush bed carefully, and then fills the walk-in tub in the ensuite, because Viktor will need to be washed once he makes it through the other side of the transition.

Turning someone is messy, stinky business, as it is technically a kind of death.

Viktor isn't sure what to expect but it certainly wasn't this.

Silco starts by kissing the inside of Viktor's wrist and apologizing before using this teeth to rip it open.

Viktor yells but the numbing quickly takes effect, until Silco opens his own wrist and places their wounds together. At the contact, the blood starts to burn, further and further up his arm as his veins take it through his body. 

Silco pulls his wrist away then takes a few steps back, clutching it. There was nothing he could do about the pain, and he had to make sure Viktor had someone to feed on when he woke up.

Remembering someone from the academy that had berated Viktor in his memories, he decided that would be perfect.

The worst of the burn is in his chest....his spine, hip, and leg.

He feels like he must be on fire, that he must be burning alive and he's screaming, he's crying, he's thrashing. 

He is so lost in it that he doesn't notice when Silco leaves. He doesn't notice his abdomen contracting or the rush of filth being rejected from his insides.

When he comes through the other side, when the burning fades, and he's left to pant on the bed, it's to the awareness that there's too much noise.

Sirens, car horns, water in the pipes, music from nearby bars. Too loud too loud too loud too loud.

And voices, so many voices, voices he doesn't know, all mish-mashing on top of each other.

But then one voice cuts through them all, clear as a bell.

"Look at me, Viktor."

His attention snaps on Silco immediately, and Viktor gasps, because he's seeing  Silco in an entirely new light. 

Silco almost glows, but in a cold way, like a glacier.

And then Viktor looks at his own hands to see he almost glows, the same way.

Viktor finally seeing the person Silco has kneeling at his feet.

And at first, Viktor doesn't even recognize the person because the sudden pull of hunger is so immediate and so strong.

Viktor doesn't even realize he's moved until he has the person's face gripped in his hand.

And then all he can see the rapid thump of arteries pumping blood around the body.

Silco bends the victim's neck, showing Viktor where to bite. With an unfamiliar ferocity, Viktor bites into the man, his inexperience clear when a few spirts and drops fall to the floor.

Silco's hand soothes over Viktor's hair. 

"Easy, my darling; don't pull too hard." Silco's voice is lightly chiding, but affectionate. "Let his heart do the work for you."

Viktor hums and listens to Silco, slowing his drinking. Visions of what the man is thinking start to barrage his mind, mostly fear and regrets. It causes Viktor to pull off the man and hiss, grabbing his head. 

"The thoughts," Viktor strains. "It's distracting."

"Yes," Silco agrees quietly, "It can be. Focus on the beat of his heart. It should help while we work on building control. But remember: you stop when the heart stops. Dead blood will make you sick."

Viktor nods and takes a breath, focusing on the man's rapid heartbeat and returns to his neck, more careful with his bite this time. The thoughts are still there but Silco was right about focusing.

As the victim's heart slows, Silco grabs Viktor's shoulder just before the man dies, reminding him to leave that last drop

It takes effort to pull away, because Viktor is still craving the feed because the taste is still on his tongue. But he does pull away, and just sits there on the floor for a minute breathing heavy, and realizing that he does feel full.

Silco kisses his temple tenderly.

"Time to clean up. Go, take a bath. I'll take care of him  and the bedsheets.

Viktor slowly stands, with Silco's help, but notices his leg and his back don't hurt like they used to. He's able to stand up straight and walk without his cane. He turns to thank Silco, but he's already taking care of the body and Viktor knows there's more than enough time later.

Viktor goes to the bathroom, smiling at the already filled bath, and sinks in. The warmth feels different against his skin now, but not unpleasant. Viktor closes his eyes for what seems like a minute, but opens them when Silco walks in, seemingly already finished with the chores.

"How do you feel," Silco asks, a soft and a little sad smile on his face. 

Viktor looks at him funny. Silco never asked before; he always just seemed to know. 

Viktor tries to reach out with his mind, to hear or feel anything from Silco, but all he gets is silence. 

"Why is your mind closed?"

"Because that's what happens when we share the gift. We will never be able to touch minds again."

Silco sits on the side of the tub near Viktor and rolls up his sleeves before grabbing a washcloth. He dips it in the water, then starts to wash Viktor's back, smirking when he leans into the touch.

"I feel...different," Viktor answers. "Certainly not bad. All of my pain has vanished." He sighs and leans his head back as Silco uses a cup to rinse Viktor's hair. "It's a sort of unnatural feeling."

"I know how unnatural it can be," Silco says. "When I went through the change, I had to learn how to live with two working eyes, after living with only one since childhood."

Arch + Woods

[rekaisbored]

“I love you” - an excerpt of my fic The ash of the home, that I started the fire in

“Come on Moons.” Sirius whispers, his eyes meeting Remus’s. As inappropriate as it is, his mind doesn’t fail to remind Remus just how absolutely attracted he is to this beauty of a boy. Even here in his bed, curled up and looking like he’s seconds away from a mental breakdown, he’s the most beautiful person Remus has ever seen. I love you, he thinks. I love you so much I don’t know how to comprehend it. I love you so much, I can’t live without you. I love you so much, I can’t bear the thought of you dying, I love you, please don’t die.

“I love you.” The words come tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop himself. It isn’t the first time he has said it. He doesn’t say it often, not because he doesn’t feel it, but because he’s afraid to it will come over as too much to Sirius, that it will overwhelm him. It is admittedly, an irrational fear, because every time he says those three words, Sirius’s eyes widen slightly in a sweet, adorable way that makes Remus want to kiss him senseless. Maybe it’s because he’s never heard it before, only from James. Or maybe it’s because Remus is the luckiest damn person on this planet.

Sirius smiles, his eyes all enlarged pupils and silver glimmers. “I love you too.” He murmurs softly, as he pats the remaining empty space on his bed. Remus melts into him as he snuggles close, Sirius’s face buried in the crook of his neck, planting a small kiss on a scar that peaks out from under his pajama shirt.

James, always the one to lighten the mood, sniffs theatrically as though stifling a sob, causing them all to huff out a breathless laugh. “Don’t be jealous Prongsie, you know we love you too.” Sirius jokes fondly, throwing an arm around the boy to pull him closer as well.

“Ah, yes, I always forget there are three of us in this relationship.” Remus mocks, to which James gasps.

“Forget! Oh, my heart! You wound me, my sweet love!” He snorts into a pillow, wondering how he managed to befriend these people.

They lay there, their bodies pressed close, like they’re hanging onto each other for dear life, and it feels like they really are. The world dulls around them, this safe haven they have found the only place left to exist, and it’s just the three of them left in the world. Three young boys, not even eighteen or just barely, sharing a bed because they have nothing else left that feels even remotely safe, because they’re afraid of going off to war, of dying, of losing each other, of making it out alive. There is a strange, cruel beauty in it, the way they know all they have is each other, the way they instinctively reach to comfort each other. They’re good at it, because over the years of their friendship they’ve needed it more than any group of teenagers should; and all they’re going to do is need it much-much more in the future.

“I really do love you guys. You’re the best friends I could’ve ever asked for.” James whispers eventually.

[spideyanakin]

Hiiiii its me again 🤭

I keep rereading the part where reader tells sirius their son name. Sirius smiles and it got me thinking of them being kids choosing names for their future kids. Like they are looking over the stars and they like the name Perseus Sirius Black. Oh the agsnt and tears 😩

THE WAY THIS ASK HAS A CHOCK-HOLD ON ME!!!

Thank you darling for those gorgeous requests 🩵

all I think about now - masterlist

summary - sirius black x malfoy + slytherin! reader, you watch the stars with sirius

warnings - mention of extremely minor character death lmao

The grass was high this year, enough to reach your knees when you walked and engulf you whole as you laid in it.

You weren’t sure if it was a deliberate choice from your parents, or if it was because the muggle gardener had been eaten by those magical plants your mother had asked to be planted last autumn.

Sirius was sure it was the latter, because gardeners, especially wizard ones were hard to find these days: he didn’t know if it was true, that’s just what he heard his parents say anyways.

"Well, you don’t have a garden, do you?" You had mumbled as your gaze lifted up to the night sky, pushing some rogue grass blade away so you could get a better view of Sirius lying by your side.

"No," he sighed, "but Kreature keeps the rooftop and balconies nice. I think my father is growing a mandrake up there, not sure why, but Kreature keeps complaining." The sudden thought of the Black household elf repotting a mandrake was making you laugh, and Sirius joined in your giggles, adding wood to the fire, "he keeps muttering insults every time the thing grows! My father says he is the only one who should do it because house elves are immune to their screams or something.”

"Poor Kreature," you giggled.

"Hm," Sirius didn’t seem convinced by the use of the word poor to describe his house elf. Although he did everything his parents didn’t wish to do, he was almost treated like a third child by his mother. Which meant that Kreature heard all her gossiping and complaining when she talked about him, and the elf did not hesitate to voice the same views on Sirius’s chaotic antics whenever the two of them dared to cross paths.

It also meant, the elf didn’t care as much for Sirius as he did for his brother, and saw great pleasure in sabotaging him. He saw it in the little things, like adding extra salt into Sirius’s plate, or folding one of his shirts not yet dry, or not quite ironed perfectly like his mother liked.

Imagine Walburga’s face when Sirius arrived at dinner with wrinkles on his shirt, and of course, he was obviously the cause of it because, this shirt had just been freshly ironed, or was it?

"You know how to read the stars, do you not?" Your soft voice broke his reminiscing, and he found himself looking at you, adoration filling his bright eyes.

"I do!" He smiled brightly, and you found yourself blushing at his enthusiasm.

"Will you teach me? I need to know them if we are to be married, do I not?"

"I guess so," his smile turned shy as you scooted closer to him, heads lying barely inches apart.

From so close you could see the clouds in his beautiful grey eyes, and the faint freckles from the freshly arrived summer sun that kissed his nose. His hair smelled nice, you noticed. Like fresh jasmine and eucalyptus.

After seconds that felt like minutes of staring, his gaze broke with yours and climbed up to the sky, his hand pointing towards his star, Sirius, as if on instinct.

"You see that bright one. That’s mine."

"The really bright one amidst the two little ones?"

"Yes!" He exclaimed happily, "and with these, it’s the Canis Major constellation." You nodded with a smile as you spotted all the stars he was pointing too. He pointed further down the sky, "now look up, straight from my star, you see these three little stars that align?"

"Yeah."

"That’s Orion’s Belt, and the few stars around it creates the full constellation. You can see his bow right there."

He watched you struggle to spot it, brows furrowing as you attempted to find the shapes in the stars.

"Here," Sirius scooted closer to you, taking your hand in his to point at the stars, skin burning where he was touching you. "These little ones are the bow, and this one is his head."

"Oh, I see it! This is the one your father is named after?"

"Yes," he smiled brightly at the proud sparks in your eyes. "Now if you go up right there, directly from my star, there is Regulus."

"The bright one?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "Reg’s the star leading to one of the paws, you can easily see the lion shape."

"Oh! I do see it!"

"You’re doing amazing, took me hours to find it the first time."

"Thank you, but you are the one who is a great teacher,” you blushed.

"What else do you want to know?"

There was a quiet silence, almost shy before you looked back to his stormy eyes, shining in the moonlight.

"What will we name our children?" your voice was quiet.

Sirius’s eyes widened, his heart racing to his ear as he watched the shy smile on your features. Suddenly, a large grin rose upon his lips, and he managed to keep his own blush at bay.

"Well, do you have any star names that you like?"

"I asked you first! Do not cheat!" You awkwardly giggled. "Do not tell me you have not thought about it."

“I have," he smiled, and your gaze lingered for a second more before his signature grin took over again and he stared back at the stars. "I always loved the name Rigel, but I hate the fact that it’s Orion’s foot." That got a new laugh out of you.

"I agree, it is a no for Rigel then."

"My mother loves Cassiopeia," he shook his head, a scowl forming on his features. "That's what she would have named us if either Regulus or I had been a girl," you watched him think, "but her story is ghastly."

"I remember reading about her." Your tone spoke for itself.

"Yeah," Sirius nodded. "I like Ara better for a girl."

"Ara,” you smiled, "that is beautiful, Sirius."

"I know right?" He mirrored your smile as the two of you locked gazes again. "Brought victory and luck to the gods, a name meant for someone great."

"I love it."

You don’t know how long you spent, staring at each other, grinning with smiles full of love and admiration for the life you were yet to live. A life where Sirius had been gifted to you.

You let yourself imagine what Ara would look like. Dark curls, with his fine nose, and if you were lucky, she would have his stormy eyes that you could spend hours diving into.

You whispered into the silence, "and for a boy? If not Rigel."

"My parents would love Arcturus, after my grandfather, but I hate it."

"I hate it too," you scrunched your nose. "No offense to your grandfather, bless his soul, or to your brother."

"None taken, my brother despises the name more than anyone."

"What do you have in mind then?"

He smiled so brightly it gave your head a spin. Your stomach fluttered at the look in his eyes, he lifted his upper body from his place in the grass and rested on his elbows.

"Do you see these few stars, the ones that look like a w," he pointed somewhere in the sky, you rose too, leaning against him, but you couldn't seem to find it.

"Here," he took your arm again, black curls brushing against your cheek as he gently took your hand. "These ones."

"Yes," you whispered, heat rising to your cheeks at the closeness of it all.

"That is Cassiopea, look right underneath it, right above the skyline. That long line of stars, with the one in the middle."

"Yes, I see it."

Your breath caught in your throat when he leaned even closer, almost whispering as he explained, "That is Perseus. Hero of the sky. He saved Andromeda, did things no one thought possible."

All words died in the back of your throat as the two of you stayed, watching the constellation without making a move to change position. Your heart was beating loudly against your chest and you feared he could hear it.

Finally, you felt him smile. You looked to the side to see him already looking at you. He pressed an awkward kiss to your forehead before coming back to lay on his back.

"Perseus Sirius Black, it sounds nice," you smiled as you followed his movements to lay by his side.

"As beautiful as Ara Y/n Black," you smiled at the name falling from his lips. "Goes well together don't they?" He noticed, "Ara and Perseus Black."

"Yeah."

"Cannot wait to meet them."

[ariminiria]

just. how casually. how easily. how very second-naturedly Jack reaches out from the driver's seat and grabs Mac by the belt when he's hanging out the window of a moving car. the trust. the brotherhood.

[prlssprfctn]

Damian wakes up, startled. He doesn't remember what he saw in his dreams, and he is not sure what caused him to feel so anxious, but he knows what to do. The routine is easy and comforting; he just needs to find his brother Jason. So, he goes.

His bare feet against the cold floor is soundless, making no sound, and he keeps rubbing his eyes until he sees one of the doors open. It must be Jason. He always keeps the door of his room open, just in case.

There is a dim light in the room, a small lamp on the desk, where the stakes of paper are stored, and Jason is here, as tall and huge as always, tapping on his feet in an attempt to concentrate, while twirling a pen between his fingers. He is either reading or working on something else: writes down memories, afraid of them slipping away due to the Lazarus Pit hammering in his temples all the time.

Damian yawns and steps closer, tapping on his back.

'Akhi Jason,' he calls hoarsely. The body freezes, almost surprised — he is not supposed to; Jason hears him from the corridor, even if he is the most soundless kid in the whole world. 'I want to sleep.'

He never says he sees nightmares or that he is scared — just that. It always works.

Expect, this time it doesn't.

'What did you say?' Brother asks, his voice sounding so unusually stiff.

'Jason,' he repeats, more irritated this time. 'I said, I want to—'

When Jason turns around, Damian instinctively staggers back, his eyes widening.

The man in front of him is not Jason.

And for a second, Damian is panicking, until-

Until he doesn't remind himself that he is not home anymore. He is in the Wayne Manor, with his father.

With his father that looks exactly like his brother, only older, without scars, marring his face, and without a white streak that makes him look like a bird.

'Damian,' his father calls, slightly shaken. 'How do you know Jason?'

He swallows down. He is not supposed to tell about his brother. They instructed him not to.

But father has a familiar desperation in his eyes, the same one Jason had, when he was pacing around the room, muttering something incoherent, the cut out from newsletters photos of Bruce Wayne with Tim Drake in his hands, and-

And Damian shrugs.

'He is my brother,' he says, almost too innocently; because if he is going to be clueless about it, then what others will have to tell him? 'He stayed with a grandfather. It is a shame.'

Almost as if he doesn't understand what all of this implies.

'I was sleepy,' he adds. 'And got confused. My apologises, father. I shall return to my bedroom.'

Bruce stares, stares, and stares. And then, rubs his face with his hands, exhausted.

'I'll tuck you in. Let's go,' and a second later, with his voice sounding so familiarly small, just like how Jason's sounded when he first acknowledged him as his brother, he adds: 'Can you tell me more about your brother, Damian?'

And Damian tells him, of course.

He is not surprised to see the result of his work the next week.

[monstersholygrail]

You, a cute Deer hybrid foolishly make another attempt to get away from your Tiger hybrid bf’s grip while his tongue ravishes you in the name of “grooming.” You huff, slumping against his paws that encircle your body.

He chuckles darkly, the sound sending a chill down your spine. You try as hard as you can to not appear as aroused that you are by it, but when you hear him inhale sharply you know he’s picked up on the scent of lust that seeps from your pores.

“It’s no use trying to get away from me, mate.” You can’t help but whimper, the jittering buzz of restlessness coursing through your pent up body.

“I wanna run,” you whine, looking longingly toward the grassy distance even as you arch into his embrace. A part of you resisting possibly because you know how wound up it makes him.

A second later the tiger’s prickly tongue resumes its course of lapping up and down your exposed throat and you shiver, resisting a pleased sigh that begs to be released. A rumble passes through his chest as he soaks up your warmth, his protective instincts roaring to life at your irritating insistence.

“If you run then you get dirty and then you will be right back here in my enduring embrace with no chance of escape,” he growls, not completely hating the idea for a moment. The idea of caring for his mate’s body as much as he wrecks it an intriguing one. So why not do both?

Even with his warning you don’t stop your wriggling. Of course you don’t. Not when the urge to run and burn off your energy is pumping through your veins. You don’t even notice how your endless squirming has you grinding into your bf’s dick, causing it to harden and stir to life. Bringing forth its need to hunt and make its prey submit. He rumbles huskily in your ear, jerking forward and pinning you down with his hips.

“Stop your moving this instant or I’ll make you,” he threatens with that deadly rasp in his tone that would’ve had you baring your neck for him in an instant if you were paying any attention.

Your damn squirming doesn’t stop and it’s even worse now that his aching cock is nestled right between your plump thighs. His red bulging tip dribbling pre-cum. The fact that you don’t even notice as it leaks down onto your exposed slit is his last straw.

“That’s fucking it. You’re done for.”

Chilling noises leave him as he leans back and yanks your ass up into the air. Flipping your dress up and fully exposing your glistening pussy to the cold air as you help in surprise. That yelp quickly growing into a full-blown cry as before you realize what’s going on, your bf slips his entire length inside your warm wet cunt in a single thrust.

He doesn’t bother waiting for you to adjust before he starts slamming his cock along your quivering walls. His claws digging into your fur to keep you perfectly still for his onslaught. You hadn’t given him a moment of relief and he plans on affording you the same courtesy. Growls tear from his throat at how tight you are, especially as your pretty pussy clenches down on him like the good Doe you are.

You moan wildly, your body buzzing as it finally gets the exercise it truly needed. You try and meet his thrusts but your bf roars in protest, his claws sinking deeper into your flesh. Snapping his cock inside you with brutal thrusts, using your body like a fleshlight. Fucking into you with no restraint and unleashing all his pent up frustrations on you. Just like him your climax sneaks up on you and completely overwhelms you with endless shocks of pleasure. Your body shakes as he doesn’t stop, prolonging the buzzing inside you and you have a feeling he’s not gonna stop for a long time…

With each orgasm that wracks through your form, your body grows weaker. The only thing keeping you upright anymore is your bf’s claws still sunk into your hips. Drool pools from your lips as he pumps inside your pussy just right. Clearly aiming for his own release as few thrusts later he’s spilling himself deep inside you, filling your spent cunt to the brim with his cum. A sweet little reward for how good you were for him.

“Look at you. So perfect like this,” he says in awe, his claws scraping up and down your back in a way that has you moaning weakly.

Your body is so perfectly still, your mind completely fucked out. He now has you exactly how he needs you. With you no longer able to move, your bf leans over you, cock still fully sheathed inside you, and resumes his grooming. This time with no interrupts besides the occasional whimper.

[blue-jisungs]

[ 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨 ] kiss attack

# author’s note … i dunno pookies just a random thought inspired by the first pic ^^

# summary … surprising them with kisses OR pepper kisssonf their faces (out of the blue, mostly hehe)

# warnings ... some members might be suggestive if u squint, some r longer than others, not proofread (bare w me bc i wrote this in a car during multiple ocasions in my notes app w/o autocorrect so ! :D i know u love me guys heheheh)

┆彡 SEUNGCHEOL [ 승철 ]

coming home late from yet another photo shoot, cheol desired nothing more than a warm bed and falling asleep with you in his arms. he tries to be as quiet as possible when entering your shared home, aware that you’re probably asleep. and his leader instincts are correct, the place drowning in midnight darkness. taking his shoes off, slipping into fresh pajamas, slowly but surely dipping into the mattress… and home, he’s finally home. your sleeping silhouette is drawn next to him, only slightly lit up by the moonlight peeking through the window. just when he sneaks his arms around you and closes his eyes, ready to drift asleep, your body moves suddenly and there’s a quick but deep peck landing on his lips. then, as if nothing happened, you roll on the other side and curl into him. seungcheol feels his heart grow and fill with warmth as he falls asleep with a smile blooming on his lips and pink dusted on his cheeks.

┆彡 WONWOO [ 원우 ]

"hey, wonu?" you ask and peek your head through the door, only to notice him being busy with a video game.

"give me a sec!" your boyfriend hums and the only thing you can see are the flashing lights and images on his screen "is it important?"

"no, not really" you answer and walk up to him, noticing that he has one of his headphones off his ear to hear you. a habit he developed ever since you moved in "i mean, depends how you look at it"

wonwoo turns around to check up on you and then you attack. cupping his face quickly and planting a sweet kiss on his plush lips.

"bye!" you giggle and run away, leaving him frozen in place. he’s too stunned to speak and too flustered to move, heart beating like crazy and stomach filling with butterflies.

"hey, dude, come on! we’re losing because of you!" someone whines in the voice chat and wonwoo takes a glance at the door, where you were moments ago. with a whipped grin plastered on his lips he shakes his head and returns to the pleasantly interrupted game.

┆彡 MINGYU [ 민규 ]

mingyu was cooking dinner peacefully, focused on his task. mingyu’s engagement in the kitchen was no joke, multitasking and executing the recipe on spot. which is why he didn’t hear nor see you entering his work space. better yet, he didn’t acknowledge your waltzing in and wrapping your hands around his waist. only when you gave him it a little squeeze. your man turned around, shocked pout on his face. to be fair, you didn’t want to disturb him. but pouty mingyu was just too adorable not to kiss - so you did, gently but quickly; his lips tasting like the vegetables he was cooking (and snacking on).

"what was that for…?" he hummed and wanted to kiss you properly but you leaned away, resting your cheek against his broad shoulders.

"nothing" you mumbled incoherently and he came back to cooking, not noticing he just added too much salt.

┆彡 VERNON [ 버논 ]

you would think vernon is asleep at the first glance. laying in bed, one hand on his stomach and the other under his head. his eyes were closed and face was resting, chest rising up and down slowly. but occasionally he’d reach and scratch his nose. he was listening to a podcast with his headphones in. and something just possessed you, it was like you had to cover his cute face with kisses or you’d - not to be dramatic - explode. you climbed on top of him, cupping his face slowly. vernon didn’t even budge. then you started gently pepper-kissing his face, planting kisses on the most random places. your plush lips tickled him a bit but he didn’t really mind; just when you were done but still holding his face, he peeked an eye open.

"everything okay?" vernon asked. you just nodded and placed one more kiss on top of his nose, then left to continue with your day.

┆彡 SOONYOUNG [ 순영 ]

"yah, kwon soonyoung!" your yell echoed through the practice room, causing all the members to halt. the said criminal turned with his eyes widened in pure terror. his mind raced with thoughts: did he forget something? did he do something? or didn’t do? recalling events from this morning, he failed to notice when you stormed right at him.

"i’m sorry i’m sorry im sorry–" he started whining, eyes scanning your face in search of bad signs but he saw a flash of mischievous smirk on your lips.

"you forgot this" you hummed and pecked his lips quickly with a loud 'mwah!' and ran away, giggling.

"that woman is crazy. she’s making me crazy. actually, we’re both maniacs" soonyoung murmured, touching his lips. his friends shared a laugh, looking at his whipped state.

┆彡 JUNHUI [ 文俊辉 ]

"hey, sleepyhead, wake up!" you whine as you tug jun’s shirt for the millionth time in the span of three minutes. your boyfriend decided to take a nap before you leave to the planned date but apparently he wasn’t keen on waking up. "jun!"

he mumbles something you can’t quite decipher and turns to his back, soft snores escaping his parted lips.

"fine" you sigh and straddle him, pepper-kissing his face. with each kiss landing on his features, you feel his smile grow. once you brush just against the corner of his lips, his smile is way too wide to pretend he’s still sleeping.

"you did that on purp–" you start but aren’t meant to finish because junhui’s large hands grab your face and pull you in a real, deep and passionate kiss.

well, you take that as a yes.

┆彡 MINGHAO [ 徐明浩 ]

whenever minghao was meditating, you avoided to disturb him. not to lose balance and be able to focus… you closed the door and waited until he was done. but today you just couldn’t bare a second without him, your heart longing to be in his presence (even though you live together). hao had his eyes closed, focused on his breathing. but he did hear the soft click of door opening and then the sound of your food paddling against the floor. you tried to keep your volume down, certain that he did not hear you. before he could expose you, there was a series of kisses attacking his face. the feeling of your lips against his skin was pleasant but made him lose focus completely. before he could realize, you were already running off, giggling. minghao opened his eyes and looked around, shocked, and with the tips of his ears painted with red shade.

┆彡 CHAN [ 찬 ]

chan was sitting on the sofa, brows slightly furrowed and concentration all over his face. his slim fingers were typing at the speed of light, discussing something with his members. normally you’d think it’s something important but to be honest, you knew them too well. they were simply arguing what to eat for lunch tomorrow.

you were watching him, smiling subconsciously; he still made your stomach swirl with butterflies as if you were a teenage girl with her doorway crush.

and the feeling was just too strong to resist, you just had to kiss him.

so you got up and stood in front of him, not aware of your presence yet.

with a quick lean, you pressed a tender, loving kiss onto his plush lips. chan froze, fingers halting mid-air. he kissed you back and leaned away with a puzzled look.

"what was that for…?" he whispered, blinking slowly.

"nothing. you’re just cute" you answered with a shrug and sat down next to him, opening instagram. chan, a little flustered, reassumed the lunch dispute

┆彡 JEONGHAN [ 정한 ]

"you’re cheating!" jeonghan whines, a pout forming on his lips. you sigh, shaking your head with the cards in your hands.

"just because my cards are good doesn’t mean i’m chaeating… unlike you, sneaky fox" you snickered and put another card on top of his. maybe you should’ve known that playing uno with him won’t end well but in the end, jeonghan is passionate about winning in every game.

"that’s literally not possible, how come you have three cards left and i have like… thirteen?!" jeonghan puffs his cheeks and places a green one card "i hate this–"

you lean over the stack of cards and shut him up with a slightly aggressive kiss, nibbling on his bottom lip with a smug smirk.

you can hear him sigh softly and kiss you back. before he can realize, you put down your three colored ones and lean away, patting your things.

"uno… and, well, also no uno since i won" you smirked and jeonghan was left speechless, mouth open wide. whether you cheated or not during the game, it was an impressive win.

"no… but… that’s, that’s– that was cheating!" he whines again but this time only to make you laugh again.

┆彡 JOSHUA [ 조슈아 ]

joshua was still half asleep when he was brushing his teeth, his hair sticking in every direction possible and eyes half closed… struggling to keep his head stable.

you just looked at him through the mirror, smiling at your boyfriend’s drowsy state.

"do we have to get up so early…" he mumbled, barely audible due to the foam in his mouth.

"you booked the flight so early, not me" you chuckled and finished applying cream onto your face. you had to leave soon if you wanted to be at the airport early.

joshua answered something incoherent and spat out the toothpaste, washing his mouth with water.

he blinked slowly and caught your gaze in the mirror.

you just smiled and turned around, cupping his face. then you started peppering his face with gentle kisses everywhere: cheeks, forehead, nose, eyelids. and finally, his peppermint tasting lips.

"awake yet, sleepyhead?" you titled your head with a gentle smile and joshua nodded, a lazy smirk on his lips "good. i’ll make us breakfast then"

and when you left the bathroom, he realized he’d really feeling more awake.

┆彡 JIHOON [ 지훈 ]

jihoon had his headphones on so he wasn’t able to hear you but he did certainly see you. a small smile painted on his lips as he was observing you pacing around the gym. while he was busy curling his arms, you were bored out of your mind and there was nothing to aggravate your boredom. it’s not like you didn’t like accompanying him to the gym and watching him work out; no, quite the contrary. it’s just that he was in his space and there was nothing interesting to do besides watching him. you peeked at him in the mirror and caught his eye on you. then, your gaze slid to his arms.

"hey, my eyes are up here"

your gaze snapped back to him and his cocky smile. heat rose to your cheeks upon being caught. you had to shut him up.

"i know you’re bored but–" jihoon started, probably to tease you, but was interrupted by your lips meeting his. he almost dropped the dumbbell he was holding but came back to reality once he couldn’t feel the plush of your lips no longer. "what was that…?"

"go back to working out, smartass" you snickered and watched him be the flustered one now.

┆彡 SEOKMIN [ 석민 ]

"and then chan came out, fully dressed as pi cheolin! i swear, the sound of carats’ laughter made my day" dokyeom rambled. even though your back was facing him, you could still feel the gentle shake of the mattress due to his dynamic gesturing

"and i couldn’t help but laugh too! our chan is just so talented, maybe he should start an acting career! because i swear, it’s like… chan is gone and pi ch–"

as much as you loved dokyeom’s voice, whether talking, singing or laughing, you just wanted to doze off after an exhausting day. but he just wouldn’t stop talking.

"–possessed him! i swear i think my ribs got fractured after laughing so hard, he was just so into it–"

seokmin suddenly felt your lips crushing on his. the taste of your toothpaste exploded on his tongue, freezing on spot due to the passion of your kiss. it felt like eternity but in a good way; he kissed you back until he couldn’t breathe anymore. you noticed that and pulled away, this time facing him and burying your face into his side.

"i love you, kyeom, but for the love of mine please go to sleep" you murmured softly and he fell silent. not only because you told him to, also because his huge grin prevented him from further talking.

┆彡 SEUNGKWAN [ 승관 ]

"what a beautiful view…" seungkwan let out a deep sigh, looking amazed at the panoramic in front of him. you were holding his hand and admiring it too.

it was a random tuesday afternoon and you decided to go on a hike on a nearby hill. and even though it was exhausting, it was worth it. pallets of greens and yellows sprung in front of your eyes, blurring with the cloudless, blue sky.

"this one is more beautiful tho" you hummed suddenly. seungkwan turned around to see what did you mean but you just pecked his lips and squeezed his hand with a cheeky smile.

"that was so cheesy…" he rolled his eyes and while you turned again to adore the nature, his eyes stayed glued to your face with amused smile.

masterlist <3

taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,,

@weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny,, @mon2sunjinsuver ,,

@eternalgyu ,, @rubywonu ,, @mine-gyu ,, @nonononranghaee ,, @haecien

[s0dium]

Obsession

Warning: Love drunk men, fingering, titty sucking, nipple play, unprotected sex, love drunk reader

~

Love courses through your veins. He’s all you can think about.

You wonder if it's normal to be this enamored with someone, to be this hopelessly head over heels infatuated and obsessed. You can't even focus on what needs to be done anymore because he's absorbed your entire being; he's in your head when you wake up, a gentle whisper in the back of your mind during conversations, a constant in your dreams, day or night.

But it's a doomed one-sided crush you remind yourself. You're not even sure if he knows you exist and in quieter moments, you wonder if perhaps it’s better this way. Loving from a distance means you never have to face the potential heartbreak of rejection, never have to see that polite smile of someone who doesn’t return your feelings. It's safer, you tell yourself, to admire him from afar, keeping your heart guarded behind the shield of daydreams and what-ifs.

So surely, right now in this moment, you must be dreaming.

It feels too vivid, too intense to be just a figment of your imagination. The warmth of his breath against your cheek, the weight of his bare body pressing gently down on yours, the softness of his lips moving against your own with an insatiable hunger—it all feels astonishingly real.

Because it is.

You don't know how but now you're naked underneath him, letting him touch, grope, suck, kiss, nip, and bite anything his hands and mouth can find. He doesn't let up either, he's exploring your body like a starved man, like he'll never get a chance to touch you ever again and wont pull away until he's had his fill.

You gasp when you feel his fingers between your legs, tracing your inner thigh before gliding between your pussy lips. Instinctively, you jerk back at the feeling; his fingers collecting your arousal and sliding up and down. But before you can speak, he kisses you again, his tongue eagerly intertwining with yours. When he finally pulls away, leaving you breathless, a thin strand of saliva connects your mouths.

"Just let me take care of you okay?" He hums before dipping two fingers into your tight hole. "Just been waiting so long to do this."

You don't even have time to react before he's curling his digits and massaging a sweet spot you could only dream about hitting on your own. His other hand gropes your left breast and with his index and thumb, begins to play with your perky nipples. As if that wasn't enough, his mouth found your other breast and gave it the same attention, licking sucking, and rolling your nipple like it was candy.

Colors dance across your closed eyelids and you wonder if this is heaven, if you've died and reached nirvana because the pleasure is just that good. You dont know if you can handle this, handle the fact that he's sucking and playing with your nipples while finger fucking you. Your toes curl and uncurl from the hot searing euphoria that is absorbing your body and emitting from your core. Your back arches off the bed and your crying his name, moaning it even, something you only dreamed about doing late at night when you craved him.

Suddenly, his mouth releases your nipple with a pop and he ceases all of his ministrations, leaving you breathless and confused.

"Fuck, I-" He's breathless himself, his face flushed and pupils blown. "Need to be inside you, need to feel you." He practically groans, and you thickly gulp at his words. Your brain goes fuzzy and you dizzily watch him pull down his boxers, the length slapping against his abdomen after being released from its confines.

He watches you lay down on the bed, breasts and cunt glistening from juices. You dont know this but he actually thinks he is dreaming. You look like a painting right now and he has to bite his lip to stop himself from spilling just at the sight of you.

"Please," You whine, "Please fuck me."

Who is he to deny you?

Without a word he presses his tip against your entrance and slides into you, grunting at the snug fit of your walls. You let out a loud moan from the feeling of him filling you so so perfectly, so well you mentally curse yourself for thinking a dildo or your fingers could ever do the job.

Then with a moan of his own, he slides out of you, nearly leaving you empty, before rocking himself back into you. Oh, how he wanted to fuck you slow and nice, like you deserved, but as the seconds passed, his resolve seep away until he just couldn't possibly hold back anymore.

His thrusts become faster, quicker, slamming in and out of you with such vigor and ease due to your combined juices coating and dripping from both his length and your hole. The friction is delicious, and his tip seems to hit your g-spot perfectly with each thrust. He even grabs the underside of your thigh and pushes them against you, effectively folding you and half and allowing him to go even deeper inside you.

You could feel your rational slipping away as he groaned about how fucking good you felt, about how good you where taking him, how he had been dreaming about this. You want to say something too, say something about how you feel the same way, but the only thing that comes out of your mouth right now is wanton moans of his name.

The pleasure was becoming too much, it had been slowly building and building and you know your about to break any second, burst with such euphoria you don't know if you will ever come back from the high. Before you do though, your brain manages to work again for half a millisecond to express the exact words you are feeling.

"Love you! M'love you so much!" You gasped before letting yourself succumb to the mind-numbing orgasm that was waiting for you. Your whole body shook and quaked from the pleasure and your mind went white. You thought you might cry, from happiness or pleasure you did not know. But you didn't. You simply went limp while you let him use your body like a sex doll.

You are barely clinging onto consciousness when you feel his hips stutter against you and he scoops you up, holding you close while he cums inside you.

"Love you too, love you too." He groans against your ear.

Any character you want ;)

[chuluoyi]

✎ to my beloved

- gojo satoru x reader

bad days don't mean the end of the world, and your husband is making sure you know that

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, fluff, fluff—just gojo pampering you

note: my job has been so hard for me this week :') so yeah it's very self indulgent as i need a lil hurt/comfort and i think you should too~

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

This week... has been a total dumpster fire.

You were utterly exhausted, covered in grime and blood, a persisting headache made you almost black out, all while sitting in the hospital waiting room as survivor's guilt slowly consumed you.

Grueling paperwork, a new project, facing the higher-ups, being substituted to Kyoto for days, and then a sudden attack of a curse user on the loose.

In times of need, you were supposed to protect others— you are a jujutsu sorcerer.

And yet, what happened? Megumi suddenly bathed in his own blood. You barely managed to save him in time, and now you were waiting for the news that he would be okay.

Why couldn't it be you instead? You wanted to break down each time you replayed the scene that took Megumi out. It was so eerily similar to how Haibara was—

"Are you okay!?"

You whipped your head, surprised to find your husband pounding down the hall. Satoru looked unlike himself—he was disheveled, and when he saw you, he immediately dashed towards where you were.

"Satoru..." you voice came out in a croak, feeling the lump in your throat closing in. When he dropped to his knee, put both hands on the sides of your face, and then your body, feeling you over to check if you had any injuries—

You finally burst into tears.

"Sweets, hey..." Satoru immediately pulled you close, trying to soothe you. You were shaking in his arms and he tightened his arms around you. "What happened to you?"

"I-I was... w-with him..." you sobbed, burying your face in his shoulder. "S-Satoru... I-I'm sorry...! M-Megumi—"

Your husband immediately shushed you. "Shh... it's alright, yeah? He'll be okay—"

You were still inconsolable even as he held you in his embrace. He hadn't seen you like this... not ever since tragedies during your high school years ago. And he struggled to reconcile this sight of you with how you were back then.

"I-I s-should've stood in his way— t-that way, he won't be hit—" you hiccupped as you poured your heart out and clutched at his shirt. "I-It would be f-fine if it... was me—"

But all thoughts flew when he heard your words, and suddenly he felt so angry—

"What do you mean?" his voice was so low and sharp that it startled you. "How will it be fine if it was you?"

You stiffened, and Satoru gripped your shoulder, pulling away to look you right in the eyes.

"If something bad happened to you... how is it fine?" he emphasized with gritted teeth. "Where do you get that kind of bullshit from?"

Your lips were wobbling as you sniffled. "At least... i-it isn't him—"

"If you got hurt, how do you think it'll make me feel?" Satoru posed the burning question on you next, his cerulean eyes glinting with silent fury, and you almost recoiled.

"T-that's...!"

"I'll wreak havoc if anything ever happens to you." His tone was harsh and forceful. "So if you think you can just—"

"I'm tired!" you screamed then, and he was stunned, wide-eyed as he took in your outburst. "I-I'm just... I've had enough of this— this shit! I want to quit!"

You were openly weeping, and this time, Satoru felt his heart lurch. You looked so heartbroken and utterly inconsolable that his first instinct to protect you took over.

"Then quit." He rose and took a seat next to you, before cradling you closer and pressed your head against his chest. "Even if you quit, I'm still here. I can protect you well enough. I don't like you being a sorcerer anyway."

You were his beloved wife and he hated seeing you like this. You were supposed to be happy and smiling.

He let out a disgruntled grunt. "Did you know how I was when I heard from Ichiji that you were at the hospital? I thought I might go mad thinking something had happened to you."

You sobbed harder at his words.

"It's perfectly okay if you're tired," he affirmed, patting your back gently. "If you're fine with giving up everything, then I'm on board too. Whatever makes you happy, sweets. Just... don't think of anything that might hurt yourself. Don't think of anything that might make you leave me."

You didn't know you needed to hear it. Right at that moment, your heart swelled with warmth. All your feelings were validated, and even if you chose to let go of everything, Satoru would accept you as you are.

You felt safe, so incredibly and irrevocably secure.

"Whatever happened this time..." he breathed out, feeling the dampness in his chest, his fingers gently combing through your hair. "It's not your fault. No one will blame you. I don't blame you, and Megumi won't too."

Your sniffles quieted down a bit at his words, and your throat still felt tight, clogged with tears.

"H-he... looked s-so much like Haibara... w-when—"

"Shush, he does not. Megumi will be okay. You will too, hmm?"

And just like that, you let go of everything and surrendered your entire being into his arms.

Clinging to him, you finally believed, in whatever shape or form it might take, you would be okay.

A week later, Megumi was discharged after being cleared by the hospital. His wounds were thankfully shallow, and you cried in relief when he woke up.

And after escorting him back, later that night, you laid on top your husband...

Your weight on him felt like a comforting reassurance as he gently patted your back. Satoru couldn't help but smile when he saw how peaceful you looked, like a baby about to fall asleep.

He couldn't resist and planted a firm kiss on the crown of your head.

"Mmm?" you looked up at him, eyes fluttering open, and he cracked a grin.

"What?"

"What?"

"Can't I kiss my own wife? When she's adorable as heck too."

"You..." your lips curved into a bashful, yet exasperated smile, poking his chest in the process.

"Heh."

You drew circles on his broad and sturdy chest, noting how his arms extended and feeling how your toenails only reached a little past his knees. "Your arms and legs are ridiculously long. You are like an oversized plushie."

Satoru snickered. "Well, isn't that good? You don't have to buy them anymore. I can be your personal talking plushie."

"Ew." You hit his chest playfully, and he pushed your bum forward until you were face-to-face with him. He smooched you on the lips, and you giggled afterward.

His eyes shone as he stared at you, breaking to a smile himself. "Finally smiling. Pretty."

"Satoru..." your eyes found his, and you marveled at how sparkling they were. Seeing him so close, even after being married to him for more than a year, made your heart skip a beat. "I..."

"Hmm?"

"I want to keep being jujutsu sorcerer..." You had thought about it ever since, and you still arrived at the same conclusion. "It's true if I give up on it, you'll still keep me safe and all, but..."

Your husband waited for you to continue, still smiling, blinking expectantly.

"...this is something I have to do. I know there will be more hard days ahead, but believe it or not, I... found purpose in doing this," you said, shifting your gaze away from him. "It makes me feel... I can be useful. Even if I'm not special like you, I can still contribute in my own small way..."

How you pressed up against him, the way you looked hesitant and yet convinced at the same time... Satoru thought you were the most precious thing there was.

"Then keep going. I'll still be here too." He hugged you tight then, surprising you. "Just let me know when you feel like you need a long leave, and I'll definitely give you the solution."

"Eh? How?"

"Easy... I can just put a baby in you~ They won't deny you maternity leave or put you in missions~"

"...Satoru, you're—" You shot him a look so unamused, before resigning with a sigh. "Never mind... alright, sure, whatever you say."

"Ooh! So does this mean you want to try now?!"

"—? No, not now yet—!"

"When? We have to try one of these days before some meddlesome aunties ask us when we will have kids!"

Being sillies like this made you so glad that you had him in your life, and that you married him. And if he felt the same way as you... then you really thanked the stars for it.

You huffed, yet wrapping your arms around him in return. "Satoru, you're a clown."

"Your personal clown, you mean. Right~"