#and no the muscles haven't relaxed- when I sit down it feels like i have a small but h3avy pouch on my right hip where al

[taviokapudding]

Uh oh OK so I took a nap because I had water in my left ear and was trying to drain but I fell asleep from 11am to 4pm, right? And I didn't move, fully stayed on my left side, frozen? W e l l guess who fucked up and immediately pulled all her right leg muscles into her hip and can't walk properly now? Apparently I was so damn warm in my bed from not moving, that I was sweating buckets (which sucks because I had just showered, thus the water in my ear) and had to shit (why I got up) . The sudden move to get up and not shit myself was so fast that I had unknowingly pulled my leg muscles the moment I sat on the ice cold toilet. I shit and then proceeded to struggle, partly half naked, to put my pj sweat pants back on and limp out of the bathroom for almost an hour because guess who also didn't take their phone?

30min of a warm muscle vibrator leg massager and 2 Advil I can walk but holy fuck my right ankle h u r t s; my mom checked in on me as I was napping earlier and said I fell asleep with my right leg holding me in my bed and my ankle took all the weight of the bed frame as my right leg ended up in a forced 90 degree bend.

In short, don't take naps if you got water in your ear and you're trying to drain because now I am walking like I lost a fight with a beaver and ended up with a peg leg in the aftermath

[lubdubology]

Soft Edges

SYNOPSIS: Logan doesn't know how to relax. So you help him.

PAIRING: Worst!Wolverine x fem!reader (Although minus the quick blip mention about the Void, you could imagine any Logan you'd like)

WC: 2K

WARNINGS: sexually suggestive innuendos; non-explicit descriptions of nakedness; playful banter; kissing; mild swearing; feeeeeelings; honestly, just tooth rotting fluff

A/N: I haven't written anything four hundred and eighty years seven years and I'm honestly kind of nervous about this. I thought my writing muse was long dead and buried. But here it is, seemingly revived. The idea for this story kind of just fell out of my head when I should have been napping while my toddler napped. The story won out. I hope you like it! <3

You wake with a jolt to the sound of Logan’s alarm blaring from his phone. From beside you comes Logan’s low, “Ah, fuck,” before silence reclaims the room. 

It’s early, the first rays of morning light just barely peeking above the horizon. You roll over and peer over your pillow to find Logan pulling on a pair of jeans. 

“I thought you were off today,” you mumble sleepily, laying your head back down and admiring the way his muscles move as he slips a shirt over his shoulders. 

He looks back at you with a soft smile. “Didn’t mean to wake you,” he says, continuing to dress. “Picked up an extra shift at the yard.”

Since returning from the Void, Logan had picked up a smattering of odd jobs to earn money. A couple of months working at a quarry. A per diem for a local contracting company. Currently a lumber yard thirty minutes outside of town. Despite notoriety for helping save the entirety of existence, some employers still had qualms about hiring someone from another universe. Not that he cared. You think he was just happy being useful. 

You reach for him and pull him down for a kiss. You can feel the curve of his smile against your lips and it’s these soft moments about him you love the most. “Do you even know how to relax?” you ask, snuggling back down against the rumpled sheets. 

“I relax,” he replies, standing up to grab his boots at the end of the bed. 

You can’t help the snort that escapes from you. “Name one thing you to do relax,” you counter, watching through half lidded eyes as he sits back down on the bed to lace up his boots. 

Logan pretends to think about it and then smirks. “You.”

He chuckles as you whip his pillow at him, your aim off as it sails harmlessly past his head and onto the floor. You hide your smile as he looks down at you, his eyes warm but still tired. “Relaxing really ain’t my style, sweetheart.” 

“You deserve it though,” you say, stifling a yawn. 

Logan looks down at you for a moment, his smirk fading as something softer settles in his expression, but he doesn’t respond to your statement. He stands and shrugs on his jacket, straightening out the collar before leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“Go back to sleep,” he murmurs.

You watch him leave and as you settle down to steal a couple more hours of sleep, you hatch a plan to show him just how nice relaxing can be. 

+++

You hum to yourself as you cook, the aroma of roasted potatoes and chicken filling the apartment. You’re just about to start on the green beans when you hear the jingle of Logan’s keys in the lock and the door swings open with a heavy creak. 

“In here, babe!” you call from the kitchen. 

“I could smell this all the way downstairs,” he comments, tossing his keys on the counter. “What’s this for?”

Logan wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you tight against his frame, nuzzling his nose where your neck and shoulder meet. With a smile, you reach back and lightly scratch your nails through the scruff along his jaw. He smells like sawdust and smoke as you press a light kiss to his cheek. 

You savor these moments with him. When you’d first met him, he was distant and wary, years of trauma causing him to be guarded. He warmed up slowly, his touches lingering longer and his words spilling more freely. But now, moments like this—where he’s soft and affectionate—have become more frequent. Logan craves touch and you are more than willing to reciprocate. 

“I thought you could use a nice dinner,” you say, your hand still tracing the line of his jaw. “Long day?”

Logan lets out a low grunt in response, his forehead resting against your shoulder. “One of those days where every idiot with a hammer thinks he can DIY,” he mutters, his breath warm against your skin. 

You smile and give his head an affectionate pat. “Well, you’re home now and I’ve got everything handled here. Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes.”

He pulls back just enough to look down at you, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Sure you don’t need help?”

“You try and help me, and I’ll beat you with this spoon,” you tease. 

Logan laughs and raises his eyebrow. “Promise?”

You smirk, giving him a playful nudge to the ribs with your elbow. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Logan.”

Logan’s eyes crinkle at the corners, the kind of smile that softens all his sharp edges. He gives your waist a gentle squeeze before stepping back, his fingers lingering just a beat longer. “Alright, alright,” he says holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll just go wash up.” 

As Logan retreats to the bathroom, you hear the rustle of him changing out of his work clothes and the thud of his boots as he tosses them to the floor. You finish dinner, resuming your quiet humming as you set the table. You finish plating everything when Logan emerges, work clothes changed for a fresh t-shirt and jeans. 

“Come eat, Lo.”

He joins you at the table and gives you an appreciative look as he sits down. “This smells incredible.”

You sit across from, watching as he takes the first bite, a prickle of anxiety setting along your spine as you wait for his reaction. A low groan of pleasure rumbles in his throat. “Fuck, this is good.”

A grin spreads across your face as he takes several more bites like a man starved. “I experimented with the cast iron skillet,” you comment as you watch him. “Looks like it was a solid impulse purchase.”

The two of you settle into a comfortable rhythm, enjoying the meal and sharing small pieces of conversation. Logan helps himself to seconds and as he finishes, he wipes his mouth with a napkin and sets his gaze on you. “You didn’t have to do this, you know,” he says, his voice low and warm. 

“I wanted to,” you reply simply. “And, like I told you this morning, you deserve it. Let me help you relax, Logan.”

There’s a pause, his expression softening as your words settle over him. You know he’s not one to ask for much and you can tell his savoring this moment. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” His voice is gruff but there’s a tenderness there that makes your chest ache. 

“A good something?”

He smiles. “The best somethin’.”

You finish dinner, swatting him away when he offers to help clean up and banishing him to the living room. Dishwasher loaded and leftovers put away, you join him on the couch. “Care to indulge me once more?”

He quirks his eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?”

+++

Logan stares at you dubiously as you lead him to the bathroom and gesture towards the tub. You flash him a grin as a frown tugs at the corner of his mouth. “It’s just a bath, Logan.”

He eyes the tub as if he’s waiting for it to swallow him whole. He crosses his arms across his chest. “I don’t do baths,” he mutters. 

You roll your eyes and place your hand on his chest, gently pushing him further into the bathroom. “Yeah, and you don’t relax either. Just humor me.”

Logan gives you a look—half amused, half reluctant—as he allows you to continue to nudge him closer. He reaches up and scratches at the back of his neck and blows out a sigh. “Fine,” he grumbles, “but only if you join me.”

You laugh softly, leaning up to press a kiss to his chin. “Tough bargain, but I accept.”

You turn from him and run the faucet, letting the tap run until you find the temperature sweet spot. Satisfied, you toss in some bath salts, the scent of eucalyptus quickly filling the room. The tension in Logan’s posture eases as you finish preparing the bath, but he still eyes you like he’s not entirely sure what comes next. 

Once the tub is filled, you shut off the tap and turn back towards him. “Okay, now strip.”

Logan smirks and raises an eyebrow. “Oh, so this is what you really wanted.”

“You’re not that hard to get naked, Logan,” you say with a laugh. 

He chuckles, but follows your instruction, pulling his shirt over his head. As you join him in undressing, you can’t help but admire his physique, his muscles flexing and gliding beneath his skin. You shimmy your panties down your hips as he kicks off his pants, leaving you both bare. 

You feel his gaze heavy on your skin as you step into the tub and beckon him to join you. He steps in, sitting down so his back is against your chest and he lets out a low groan as the warm water envelopes him.  Wrapping your legs around his hips, you cradle him and feel the tension ease from his muscles. 

“See?” you say, leaning to press a kiss to his temple. “Isn’t this nice?”

Logan peeks up at you and smirks. “The naked woman helps.”

You grab a washcloth and dip into the water to dampen it before running it over his chest. “You don’t have to admit you like it,” you say, rubbing the cloth in gentle circles along his collarbones. “You’re basically a wet noodle in my arms.”

He makes a wordless noise in the back of his throat and closes his eyes as you continue to wash him. A comfortable silence surrounds you, soft drops and splashes of water and the faint background hum of your apartment the only noises interrupting your space. You continue to wash him, gently massaging his shoulders, arms, down to the long fingers that know how to play you so well. A deep groan rumbles through his chest as you rub your fingers across the skin in between his knuckles. 

You eventually let the washcloth sink and wrap your arms Logan’s chest. He molds his arms against yours, lacing your fingers together. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You shake your head and hold him just a little tighter. “You do, Logan. Despite your past, you’re a good man and you deserve someone to help shoulder your burdens.” Your voice is sincere as you press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Or least help you relax every once in a while.”

You soak until the water cools just enough to chill your skin. Reluctantly, you untangle yourself from him and nudge him to stand. He’s already got a towel slung low across his hips as you step out and he doesn’t even let you grab your own before pulling you close. 

A yelp dies on your lips as he cradles your face in his hands, thumbs pressing into the corners of your jaw as he tilts your mouth up to him. He inhales deeply through his nose, his lips moving expertly over yours, his tongue seeking the warmth of your kiss. 

You lean into him, your fingers trailing along his ribs and pressing into the damp of his skin. Logan kisses you once more, a gentle press to the corner of your mouth before he lets you go. 

“So,” he starts slowly, “Now that you’ve shown me how you relax, can I return the favor?”

A mischievous gleam dances in his eyes and he doesn’t give you time to answer before slinging you over this shoulder. Your giggles echo down the hallway as he carries you and he kicks open the bedroom door before setting you down on the bed. You scoot back and stare up at him with an expectant glance.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he says with a grin, “My turn.”

[thoughtssvt]

suguru conditioned you to get wet every time he tied his hair up.

over the years he got into the habit of letting his hair relax. he wore it down with the new found confidence that came from your compliments and 'hey handsome's.

the only time he wore his hair in a bun was when he was shirtless between your legs.

if there was one thing he hated it was getting interrupted while he ate. he could allow his hair getting in the way when he was kissing you, holding you close. he liked the feeling of your fingers running across his scalp. he especially liked the tug you gave it when he sucked your nipple into his mouth, tongue laving and circling. a chuckle buzzing through his lips as you arched up into him.

that he could handle, but once he was face to face with your pussy he wouldn't allow it. he'd sit back on his haunches, skillfully gathering his hair into his palms with his thumbs. maybe it was just something about the way he looked down at you, carnally, ready to devour you with no restraint. maybe it was the way you knew he would do just that like he'd done so many times before.

he would run his hands up and down your thighs once his arms dropped to his sides. he'd leave soft kisses against your knee, guiding them down as he laid on his front. if your head wasn't so cloudy you would whine at the shit-eating smirk he wore as he looked at your glistening cunt.

"i haven't done much and you're already this wet?" he'd chuckle softly, so close to your skin that it felt like love wiring running under your skin, your hips bucking up into him. he'd hush you, reassure you that he'd give you everything you needed as he kissed just right above your twitching button.

"always so needy," he commented leaving open mouthed kisses on your outer lips, and though it was meant to come off snarky you couldn't help but keen like it was praise.

the first lick was always mind numbing. you held your breath as you felt his thumbs spread you open, watching his eyes flutter closed as he guided a flat tongue between your folds, the muscle giving your clit a gentle flick before he sucked it into his mouth. it was then you let your breath go, a whiny moan forcing it out.

"mmm," he hummed around you making your legs snap around his head as it shot pleasure down to your toes. "ah, ah, don't interrupt me while i eat, honey," he scolded softly, large hands prying your legs open so he could spread you up and open, pushing your knees to your chest so he could feast uninterrupted.

maybe it was better he kept his hair up despite how much you liked to tug on it. it let him focus in on your pleasure. he took his time, each move slow and calculated. he knew exactly what made your legs shake and what to do when he wanted you to suck in a deep breath, hands shooting up to the sides of your head to grip your pillow for stability.

he'd lightly scrape his nails against the sensitive skin of your thighs as he switched between slow, broad stripes against your clit to lip-bitingly quick flicks with the tip of his tongue. he'd bob his head, the gentle suck on your bud a tantalizing combo with the way the muscle swirled around it.

"so good, can't get enough of you," he'd sigh as he dropped down to your hole, gently kissing your clenching entrance before pushing his tongue in as deep it could go. he moaned at the way you twitched around him, hot and wet on his tongue.

he'd reach a hand up so his thumb could toy with your clit as he drank down your juices, steadily tongue-fucking you until your climax.

when you got your vision back there he was again, looking down at you with carnal desire, biceps bulging as he scooped his hair up into a secure bun once more, because he was definitely far from done with you.

A/N : i may have gotten carried away, i was about to go to sleep... and this was so not planned, I was supposed to write cute headcanons of how the jjk men start your apples for you. anyway I hope you enjoyed, reblogs and comments are always appreciated

j‹𝟹

jjk men x reader masterlist

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drip divider

[ladymercysletters]

Aegon the Soft

Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Word Count : 1474

Warnings: fluff

A/N: I haven't written in years so please bear with this. I just have some very soft feelings for the Targ siblings. All they need is a hug I SWEAR! anyways, hope you like it

When Aegon first married, he tried to be around you as little as possible. It was best that way, everyone else who should technically love him in his life never has; why would you be any different. The bedding ceremony had been performed; he had done his duty. He must only put a few heirs in you and that would be that. He finished that thought with the downing of his drink. Slamming the cup down on the table his men cheered around him, filling his cup as the merriment continued.

The hour was late, or early – who knew, when Aegon and his men finally dragged themselves back to the Red Keep. Sober knights greeted them and took the prince back to his rooms, depositing him on his bed.

“My Wife! Bring my wife to me!” he shouted, lolling about on his sheets and he struggled to stand.

“My prince, the hour is late an…”

“I know the hour. I said now!”

__________________________________________________________

Was he on a ship. He must be on a ship. His stomach rolled and churned so much it must be the waves on the ocean. Blinking blearily into the sunlight he vaguely felt fingers running through his hair. Aegon finally managed to focus his eyes on his bedside table, and the jug of water placed on it. The soft touch continued to caress his forehead and brush through the silver strands falling in front of his eyes.

“Good morning husband. How are you feeling this morning?” Aegon blinked and his mind cleared slightly. His wife was in his bed. You were stroking his hair from his face and asking if he was well? Thoughts flew through his head and as he jolted from the knowledge you were right behind him, his stomach reminded him of his current state and he rolled ungracefully from the bed. He landed sprawled on the floor causing a sharp gasp to leave your mouth as you watched your severely hungover husband groan and roll around tangled in sheets before moving like a slug to the open doors of his balcony and slamming them close behind him.

You couldn’t see him like this. He hadn’t even managed to face you, but he knew he must look terrible and there was something in him, ridiculous as it may be, that wanted to keep you under the illusion that he wasn’t a complete failure. Once he’d finished evacuating the contents of his stomach off his balcony, and damningly close to his brother who was just making his way onto the training grounds for his morning spar with Cole, he inhaled deeply before steeling himself to walk back inside.

Opening the doors to his rooms, he saw you sitting prettily on the end of his bed. Hair fallen perfectly to frame your face, wearing only in a linen shift you had presumably slept in by his side all night – surely his wife had been carved by angels. Bustling in the room brought him back and he drew the sheets tighter around his waist. Maids flitted in and out, making up the bath and serving breakfast on a table set up at the end of the bed.

“Better?” you said shyly smiling at him. “I thought you might need something to line your stomach – and possibly a bath.” You trailed off. You’re right. He smelled revolting.

He doesn’t quite understand how or why you could be so nice to him, he thinks as he sinks into the steaming perfumed water. Especially as a vague memory of the previous night comes back to him, he’d stumbled back into the keep, pissed as a newt, and demanded you come to him to fulfil your wifely duties. Closing his eyes, Aegon felt his muscles relax in the warmth. Even his head lessened from the soothing lavender scent.

This time he felt your presence behind him before your touch. Softly, again, you carded your fingers through his hair, moving him gently forward so you could wash him. Your gentle touch was so foreign to him. Even when he was washed by the servants, they were never this gentle with him. The warm water cascaded down his back, your fingers working a floral scented soap into his hair and pressing firmly against his scalp. The sensation was heavenly. The warmth of your body surrounded him as you leant him back again to rinse the soap from his hair.

Once he was cleaned you set a small pillow at the back of the tub for him to rest his head on. Though he was a prince he was sure he had never been as pampered as this. He stared up into your face as he leant his head back, taking in the soft fluttering of your eyelashes and the curve of your cheeks and lips.

Though you had been married for over two moons now Aegon didn’t think he had ever really looked at you before now. Surely he would have lingered around you more if he had seen what a beauty he had married. Your mere presence brought him peace, and whilst he could not understand why you were being so kind to him, his heart overstepped his mind and let him live in this fantasy for just a moment longer; practically jumping from his chest when he felt you lay soft kisses along his hairline. Your warm smell invaded his nostrils and his eyes fluttered open to discover your neck and cleavage so close to his face. Your skin looked so smooth, and his lips ached for him to lean closer and place a reverent kiss to your collar.

You took a towel and held it out for him, helping him dry as he stepped out of the tub. His eyes rolled over your body as he dressed, tucking his loose shirt into linen britches as he watched you arrange the chairs around the breakfast table.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” his voice wavered ever so slightly at the question falling from his mouth.

“Aegon?” you replied. Softly breathing his name as you turned to face him. He was sure the sweet sound of your voice confirmed you had been sent from the gods. “I am here to care for you. I am your wife…” His face fell slightly at that, which you saw. Of course you were there for your duty. The thought brought back his words from the previous evening. Wifely duties. You were fulfilling your side of the bargain. “… and I like you.” You finished.

You studied his face as he looked at you. His delicate features held together by perfect milky skin. The rounded cupids bow of his lips forming a soft pout that was hard to resist. Though you’d seen his anger and drunkenness many times since your wedding and heard worse from the ladies of court before your arrival, you’d also seen the small sad look on his face whenever he’d leave a council meeting, or even just at dinner with his family. Although his mother had been nothing but kind and gentle with you, you could see this favour wasn’t extended to her own son, and his grandfather was even worse – openly mocking him with his father, the king when surely, they should have been teaching him.

Thoughts brought you back to reality as you stepped closer to him. Looking into his eyes, the pale violet seeming deeper towards his iris and wider as they searched yours for an answer. You softly took his wrist into your hands, sliding your fingers down to intertwine with his own you placed a small kiss between the crease in his brow.

“I am your wife. I know you did not choose me for love, or choose me at all, but I hope that you will know how much I care for you, and one day maybe you may care for me.” Aegon’s throat almost closed up, and his eyes betrayed him as they began to water. His thumbs barely moved to brush the backs of your hand bringing them up to place a kiss on your knuckles – gently leading you to sit next to him at the end of his bed.

The words struggled to form in his throat; a combination of a hangover and sudden emotion rendering him surprisingly catatonic. Your hand moved to stroke to side of his face, bringing his eyes back to your own.

“I will do my best” he whispered, leaning into the warmth of your palm. “I will do my best for you, and for our line.”

“I know you will. You will prove anyone who doubts you wrong.” You spoke, touching your forehead to his own. His eyes slipped closed once more, happy to bask in the bliss of your presence for as long as the gods would allow him.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

"Will You Marry Me?"

How I imagine LADS Men would propose. This is part 1 of 2. I tried to do the sweet elegant writing, but that ain't me so here you go....

Zayne

Zayne definitely shows his love through his actions.

He's the type to be nervous the weeks leading up to his proposal. He won't show it though his coping mechanism would just be to work more hours to avoid thinking about all the reasons you'd say no. So you'd barely see him for weeks.

Don't worry though trust he's planned everything down to the last minute. He even tried to plan how the conversation would go. He quickly scraps that idea when he remembers he can never predict your response considering the way you always surprise him with your antics.

He's private about your relationship (Private not a secret read that again twice). He wouldn't want a crowd or prying eyes he'd want a cozy afternoon at home with you. The PERFECT cozy afternoon. He'd have you sit down on the couch as he'd bend a knee and give you the most Shakespearian speech you've every heard in your life before ending it with a......

Zayne: I know I've told you before nothing last forever but I'd like to be your nothing and last forever .... Will you marry me? MC: You're my everything Zayne Zayne: Is that a yes? MC: Yes yes of course

How could you even think of saying no? He would also turn you every which way but loose to celebrate. The aftercare would consist of a hot jasmine scented bath with you to relax your muscles. That nap would hit different after that cozy afternoon. ;)

Rafayel

Rafayel is so silly he'd stumble and drop the ring down a drain or something. I bet you thought thats what I'd say huh? Wrong number babes.

He can be serious when he wants to and he'd want his proposal to be perfect as well however he would want to have fun prior to asking just to calm his nerves. He'd take you to a festival or a farmers market or the arcade anything to take his mind off his racing heartbeat for his plans later.

When the time comes he would take you to a quiet gorgeous beach at sunset (A place where he feels the most calm) and right when nightfalls. Fireworks. Perfect timing huh? Coincidence? I think not!

He always finds you beautiful no matter what. He could stare at you for hours and never get tired of looking at you. There was something about you in the moonlight mixed with the awe on your face while watching the fireworks. You were unreal.

He'd wait until you're completely enamored by the fireworks before subtly mentioning something further down the beach. You'd turn quickly seeing beautiful candle light set up complete with a heart shaped flower archway covered in Flame Lillies. It was ethereal.

MC: Oh my gosh someones getting proposed to Rafayel: Lets get a closer look MC: No we might ruin it let's stay here Rafayel: It'll be fine I know the person proposing they haven't got there yet we can go look MC: Fine but quickly

Rafayel would lead you over directly in front of the archway where you would pull at his sleeve to try and leave. Because why does this man got you in the middle of someone else’s proposal set up??

MC: Your friend could be here any minute we should leave Rafayel: He's here MC: *Looks around frantically* Where?!? Rafayel: It's me MC: *Turns to see Rafayel on one knee*

His speech is an absolute tear jerker. He'd promise to love you endlessly and passionately. "I promise to chase you to the ends of the earth even in death I'd find you in the next life"

Rafayel: So ... will you be my beloved bride? MC: YES!

Me personally I'm tackling his fine ass in the sand after he slips that ring on

Xavier & Sylus here...

[satorusugurugurl]

jjk men taking care of u in ur third trimester of pregnancy when things get too hard for reader???

JJK Men: When You’re Pregnant

Pairing: Nanami Kento, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Choso Kamo, Pregnant!AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 3.9K

Warnings: language, pregnancy themes, hormones, insecurities, fluffy!

A/N: This request was so much fun Nonnie! I love me some fluff! (I haven't had kids yet so I'm going off of movies and stuff I've read! 😅 the craving thought 100% mine from my bean I lost) 💚

Nanami Kento:

“Ugh!”

Kento heard the shout of frustration and looked up from his laptop. That sounded like his lovely wife. But it couldn't be because you were supposed to be in bed. With a soft sigh, Nanami followed the disgruntled groans from the nursery, where he found you pacing the room.

You were stunning, your baby bump straining against the fabric of your maternity shirt. A tiny onesie was resting on your bump, and you used it as a makeshift table to fold clothes. You were a stunning, glowing vision of beauty. But you should be resting in bed.

“Love, just what do you think you’re doing up?”

You jumped, dropping the onesie you held in your hands. “Ken!” you sighed, placing a hand on your lower back as the muscles strained. You scared me!” Your husband's eyes widened as you grabbed the crib, spreading your legs slightly to bend down.

“No! Darling, stop!” Nanami quickly rushed in, dropping down to pick up the onesie. You heard the doctor say you need to be resting. What are you even doing in here?”

“I need to prep the nursery.”

The keyword was needed. Not want or desired; need. And it was a word Nanami had come to know very well over the last eight and a half months. Just like you needed sauerkraut and how you needed tart frozen yogurt at two in the morning. This was your hormones and maternal instincts.

“Ah, you're nesting again.”

The nesting started simple: when you were making the nursery, building the crib, and preparing for your daughter's arrival. Not that you were so close; it seemed you were nursing again, even more now. Glancing around the room, Nanami took in the small load of fresh, dried baby clothes he had planned on folding before finding the diapers and wipes on the changing table.

“She’s going to be here soon. I know it, so I need to hurry up and get ready, " you said, feeling out of breath, which is standard these days.

Nanami could see the exhaustion on your face. He said nothing as he gently took your hand and led you to the rocking chair, helping you sit. You have a breath as you ease into it, watching your husband kneel next to you.

“Love, I understand you have this primal need to nest, but you also need to rest, and that’s the doctor's order.”

“But there’s still so much to do.”

His gentle hand reached out, copying your cheek. “And I’m here to help you. I helped make our darling girl, so I fully intend to help you with everything else.” His tongue gently caresses your cheek, sending a swarm of butterflies fluttering to life in your stomach.

“Kento.” You whisper as big tears, dreaming down their cheeks, followed by a hiccup. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too. Now tell me what I can do to help.”

“I want to put all the clothes in the dresser and stock the changing table.”

Nanami wasted no time in precisely what you asked, and once that was done, he looked over his shoulder at you. “What else?”

“I wanted to clean and organize the living room.” Nanami headed to the living room, leaving you with tiny socks. Thirty minutes passed before Nanami came back into the nursery.

“All clean out there; what’s next, Love?”

For the next two hours, your husband helped you with your motherly instinct nest., no matter how minimal or massive the task was, from cleaning the bathrooms to opening all the baby bottles. Nanami never complained or looked like you were asking too much from him. He was so helpful that you felt yourself relax more until you sank back into the bed with a smile, relaxing with the pillows.

Nanami fluffed the pillows for you and covered you with a blanket. His smile was so gentle, and his eyes slowly trailed to your stomach. Seeing him smile so fondly melted your heart.

“Come here.” You tugged on his shirt, padding the spot next to you. Without asking why, your husband kicked off his slippers and hopped in bed beside you. “Thank you for all your hard work today; you put all my nerves at ease.” Gently took his hands and placed them on your baby bump. “The two of us appreciate everything you’ve done.”

There was a furnace in your husband’s eyes as he rubbed your tummy gently before leaning down, pressing a kiss between his hands. “I would do anything and everything for my girls.” Because I love them both very much. Much more than words and actions can describe.” You were about to start crying when you hissed out a wince as your daughter kicked your husband.

“I think that was her telling you she loves you too.” You whispered, running your fingers through his soft blonde hair.

“I love her too.” Honey, brown eyes met yours. “And I love you.”

“I love you too, Kento.” That evening, you lay in bed, the house cleaned to perfection, as you and Kento lovingly waited for your darling little girl to arrive.

Gojo Satoru:

“Damn.” You cursed as you looked at yourself in the mirror. You ran your hands down the white and blue floral print maternity dress you wore. People talked a lot about the first and the second trimester: the morning sickness, the cravings, the growing baby bump. But the third trimester had you looking at yourself in a different light. Your body had changed so much while you carried your son; sometimes, you barely recognized yourself, and it did not often make you feel like staying in. “Toru— do we have to go out?”

Your husband suddenly stood by your side, hand held in front of him, and eyed you up and down. “Why? Do you feel alright? Dizzy? Contractions?” You couldn’t see his eyes behind his dark sunglasses, but he was eyeing you as if you were going to shatter. “Do I need to call the doctor?”

“No, no, no, okay, baby.” Relief tag at his mouth as he pushed his sunglasses up to rest on his head.

“Oh good, but why are you asking if we must go out? Do you not feel like going out on the date?”

Going on a weekly date has been recommended by your OB/GYN. She pretty much told you to have as much fun as you could for the next nine months because when your little boy came around, alone would be a thing that was scarce for the first few months. So, of course, you made it a point to go out and do something every Saturday morning. Your little dates were so much fun; you’d have breakfast, shop, and maybe watch a movie. But those fun little dates were beginning to make you feel more like a hassle, especially now that you were nine months pregnant and felt like the size of the house.

Every time you leave the house, the hospital bag must be loaded with you. It took you forever to put on your shoes, and every time your son decided to play kickball with your bladder, you were waddling off to the nearest restroom. Saturday morning dates were less fun, and you felt like they were more of a chore for your husband.

“I want to go, but—” you said out loud, your hands rubbing your baby bump. “I’m having a hard time putting on my shoes.”

“Oh, well, that’s a simple fix!” Your boyfriend has led you to the kitchen, where he pulled out a chair padding the cushion. “Mi, you love cheesy, my Cinderella.” He lifted your sandals, slowly slipping one on before he turned your other foot and slipped the other shoe on. Now we head to our carriage and find the finest breakfast restaurant in Tokyo.”

And you weren’t sure what it was. It could’ve been him calling you his Cinderella, or the fact your shoes were fitting a little too tight nowadays, or maybe it was the fact he was taking you to breakfast, which was something you had been craving all day yesterday. Or it could just be the damn hormones. Satoru blinked, looking up at you, and you didn’t bother to answer his question, and when he met your eyes, he was a mess with a blubbery, teary face.

“Baby? Oh sweetie, what’s wrong?” His concern only made you cry harder. “Sweetheart!”

You wiped your eyes, but no matter how hard you tried to stop, the tears ran down your flushed cheeks. “I—” hic, “I’m sorry—I just feel bad!” The chair beside you scraped against the floor, and when you could look through blurry eyes, you found Satoru sitting right in front of you, gently holding your hands. “I’m not a burden anymore. Always needing more time, I slow down is just, ugh, I’m sorry!” Satoru sat back, nose wrinkling at your words.

“Baby, what are you talking about? You’re not a burden.”

“I-I take too long to walk. You have to put my shoes on, and I constantly have to pee!”

“Sweetpea! Honey, I don’t care if I have to put your shoes on, and I’ll wait for you as long as you need me to. Plus, I hold your bags when you go to the bathroom. I don’t mind doing all those things and one million more because you’re carrying our child. You’ve been through so much: the cravings, hormones, and changes to your body. You truly are incredible.”

Satoru held his breath, watching as tears streamed down your pretty cheeks. “You don’t mind waiting for me? Even though I look like a walking house?”

“Okay, no.” Your husband’s hands flew up, copying both sides of your face. “You are not the size of the house. You’re beautiful, and I love your body. I’m not sure what kind of guy cares about shit like that. But I would love you no matter what. Whether you gain or lose weight, I love you for you.” His thumbs brushed away your tears. “You might not see it, but you are stunning.”

You sniffed, relaxing, leading into his touch. “Really?” Hesitantly, the tears finally stopped.

“Yes! My goddess, you are a radiant vision, sunshine, and human form. And you are a perfect vision.” Satoru’s continue to caress your flushed cheeks. “If I’m being honest, I love our dates on Saturday mornings because I get to be seen next to a beautiful woman like you.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I think you’re confused because I feel like that with you.”

“Is that so?” Smiling as he dropped his hands to your tummy, caressing it lovingly. “Looks like our kid locked out. He’s got two hot parents.” The teasing in his eyes faded. “And he’s going to have the best mommy in the world.”

“And the best, Daddy, " you added, placing your hands on top of his.

“And he’ll be loved immensely.” Satoru pressed against your tummy before kissing your hands. “So what do you want to do, sweetheart? Do you want to go out, or would you prefer to stay in?”

“Well, seeing as you went through the trouble of putting my shoes on for me, let’s go on our date.”

Satoru fist pumps the air before placing his hand on your lower back to help steady you. “Come on, sweetie. I’ll take you to eat wherever you want.” You enter your fingers as you slowly head out of the house towards the car.

“Seeing that it’s your son, he wants French toast.”

“Yep, there’s no denying he’s mine!” Proudly announced as he squeezed your hand tightly.

Geto Suguru:

“Ow, ow, ow!” You paste around the kitchen, hands on your hips, trying to focus on anything other than the ache in your back.

Upon hearing your cries of pain, your boyfriend is around the corner, slipping on the hardwood floor. “What?! Are you okay? Is she okay?” Suguru grabbed your waist, surveying you for any injuries.

“No, we’re both okay.” Suguru visibly relaxed at your words, dropping his head slightly as he tried to catch his breath and calm his racing heart.

“Then why were you saying ow?”

The muscles in your back, your boyfriends, they seized up, screaming in pain. “Nngh!” Your teeth together, grabbing Suguru’s wrist and squeezing as your back twitched and strained. “I-It’s just my back; our little bean isn’t so little anymore.” There was nothing but pure sympathy on your boyfriend’s face as he watched your face contort with pain.

“Oh baby,” he sighed slowly, stepping behind you. “Let me help you.”

You weren’t sure if a massage would be the best thing to do right now. Every nerve in your back was burning with red-hot pain. Laying down in bed didn’t help, and sitting on the couch made it even worse; walking around was the only thing that seemed to alleviate some of the pain.

The thoughts of his thumbs rubbing into the muscles driving you mad had you squirming out of his reach. But due to the nine-month pregnant belly, you were sporting, you weren’t able to move as fast as you had been before. Your attempted move away was futile as Suguru grabbed you by the shoulders, pulling you back into his chest.

“Suguru, please don’t give me a massage right now. My back is killing me, and I feel like if you touch it, it’s going to make it worse.”

“Shh, I got you.”

You shut your eyes, waiting For the inevitable pain, as he trailed his hands down the side of your arms before sliding down over your tummy. His hands never ventured back up to your shoulders. Instead, they slid further down underneath the baby bump, resting there for a second. Realizing your back wasn’t in danger, you opened your eyes, glancing down at your tummy as dark strands of hair fell over your shoulder, hair that belonged to Suguru.

“What are—” Without giving you a chance to finish your words, Suguru gently lifted your baby bump slightly, allowing him to hold your daughter's weight, giving your back some much-needed rest. “Oooh~” the relief Washed over you like waves at the beach, “Oh, that feels so good.”

“Yeah, I’m so glad to hear that.” His thumbs brushed over a little sliver of skin as your shirt scrunched up over your tummy. “I saw this little trick online.”

You could feel the pressure being relieved from your muscles, back, and hips. Ten pounds lighter, you felt like you could finally relax with that weight your boyfriend was holding. With a happy sigh, you leaned further against his back. It felt so good.

“You are so amazing. Carrying our baby, thank you.” Soft lips gently trailed over your cheek, running over your jawline as your boyfriend held your daughter's weight off your body. “I’m so thankful for everything you’re doing for us.”

“You're welcome.” You turned your head slightly, pressing a kiss against his lips. “Thank you for being so kind and patient with me.” Your daughter stretched out, leaving you wincing again.

“I just wish there was more I could do for you.”

His words left you feeling baffled. “Suguru, you’ve already done so much. You baby-proofed the house, you put together the crib, which was a nightmare.”

“At least it wasn’t from IKEA.”

“You also go out of your way to get me anything I crave. No matter how gross it is.”

“I don't know. Your last request for hotdogs and cold cream of mushroom soup nearly took me out.”

You moaned in delight at the mention of your late-night snack from a week ago. “It was so tasty! But the point is you do a lot for me, even now,” you whispered, motioning your head towards his hands. “This is everything I had been needing tonight.” Suguru fondly smiled at you, pressing another kiss against your cheek before he began rubbing circles over your stomach.

“This is all you need, Princess?”

“Mhmm~ you, the girls, and our baby.”

“You’re sure? You would let me know if there was anything else I could do for you, right?”

You nodded your head, inhaling the earthy, minty scent that belonged to the father of your child. “I would, but I’m happily content with right here and now.” Suguru felt his smile widen as he gently began easing your bump down so he could properly turn you around to kiss you. But that was his first mistake. A rumbling growl sounded from you, and your eyes shot up toward him in the dark, warning rage.

“Don't you even think about moving your hands.”

“Oh,” He seized up at the apparent anger in your voice. “Right, sorry, baby.” As he continued to hold the baby bump up for you, he could feel the rage leaving your body as he relaxed back against him. Suguru felt like he wasn’t doing enough, but he could tell by the gentle smile that graced your pretty face that he was doing everything he needed for you at that moment. And he didn’t care how he would be standing in the kitchen holding the weight up for you as long as you both were together and happy to do whatever you needed.

Choso Kamo:

Your husband had gone missing, and you weren’t sure where he ran off. One second, he told you that he was heading outside to meet his brother for something, and the next second had turned into two, which turned into an hour, and you were beginning to wonder where exactly he was or what he had gotten himself into. Usually, this sort of thing wouldn’t have bothered you; he was always running off to do stuff with his brothers. But your little one, due any day now, was feeling restless.

They were kicking and punching you in the ribs and bladder, and the typical tricks you use to soothe the little to relax are turning out to be useless. The only thing that seemed to calm them down nowadays was Choso’s voice. He did not even need to do much; as long as he was in the vicinity for your baby to hear, they relaxed almost instantly.

You hated to interrupt his bonding time with his brother, but at the same time, he would like to sit on the couch without feeling the urge to pee, so you just went to the bathroom. The need to sleep and relax somehow fueled you to push yourself out of the recliner and begin waddling around the house in search of Choso or Yuuji.

The last time you saw them, they were heading out to the garage to talk about anything and everything, from Yuuji’s schooling to everything that still needed to be done for the baby's arrival. But all of that can wait for now; right now, you need the comfort of his voice.

Heading out to the garage side, rubbing your tummy as your precious baby shifted again, pulling out a sound of discomfort from you. You couldn’t wait for them to be born so you could hold them, and you were eager for them to stop playing Twister with the inside of your uterus. Just a couple of weeks were left, but Choso was your secret weapon in the meantime.

“Cho?” you asked, looking around the garage. “Babe?”

The car was in the driveway. Both doors to the backseat were left open. For a minute, you felt your heart rate spike because you didn’t find Choso nearby, but before you could panic over what may have happened, a flash of pink hair popped out from the car.

“I don’t think that’s right, Choso.”

“I know, it's just—” Your fiancé got out of the car, scratching the back of his head in apparent annoyance. “How do people do this?”

“I’m as clueless as you are. Maybe I should call Megumi; he’s smart. I bet he could figure it out.”

Choso gently slammed his head repeatedly against the side of the car with a sigh. “This should not be this hard.” You stood off to the side out of sight, and your restless son started to set up the sound of his father’s voice. “We need to figure this out, Yuuji.”

“Why don't we just ask Sis?” Yuuji question referring to you. “She has friends with babies, but doesn’t she have nieces and nephews, too? She would probably know how to put in a car seat.“

Oh, so that’s what they were doing out here. Poor boys had probably been struggling to put it in this whole time. Well, luckily for them, you know how to put in a car seat.

Before you could begin treading down the driveway to help them, Choso shot up, looking at his little brother from across the car. Dark strands of hair bounced as he shook his head. “No, we’re going to figure this out.” you and Yuuji eyed Choso with confused looks.

“Why not Cho?”

“Because she needs all the rest she can get. She hasn’t been sleeping well, but I can do this. I want her to rest. I want to help out with things like this. It’s at least I can do.” the fondest smile plastered his mouth. “Since she’s carrying our baby.”

“Oh, Choso,” you whispered, fighting my tears. He’s been so sweet and attentive during the pregnancy, but he’s been putting in all the effort for the last few weeks. He was cooking, cleaning, taking care of you, packing the hospital bag himself, and, on top of all that, cooking all the meals, making sure he was tending to everything for you. Not a day passed that you didn’t receive a foot or back massage. Was it even possible to fall deeper in love with a man you would spend the rest of your life with?

Yes, it was.

Although the tears were blurring your vision, you could see the understanding on the younger boy's face. “I guess that makes sense.” Yuuji stretched his arms above his head. “But can we please call Megumi?” your fiancé nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, that's fine.”

Seeing that they both had it under control, you quietly snuck back into the house and relaxed on the couch. Another thirty minutes passed before Choso came back inside. He had a wide smile on his face as he sat down on the couch next to you, pressing a kiss against your lips before kissing your tummy.

“Hey, you.”

“Hi,” Choso rested his head on your stomach, his eyes shutting as he felt your son move. “We got the car seat set up. So we’ll be all set for when the day comes.”

Your fingers toyed with his hair, brushing his dark strands back. “Yeah? Thanks for doing that; it wasn't too difficult, was it?” He turned his head slightly to look up at your face.

“Nope!”

“Good,” you looked back towards the garage, “did Yuuji leave?”

“He went to pick us dinner with Megumi; they should be back soon.”

A comfortable silence grew between you as you ran your hands further down his back. “Cho, thank you for taking such good care of us. And thanks for all your hard work.” Choso’s arms snaked around you, holding you as he shook his head.

“I should be the one thanking you.”

“Me?”

“For making me the happiest man in the world, for making me a father, for being my future wife.” His eyes were so warm and full of adoration, “You complete me. So yes, thank you, I love you.”

You couldn't help but grin as you watched him close his eyes. ”I love you too, Choso; we both do.” His smile was contagious as you found yourself following his lead, drifting off to sleep. It was the kind of sleep that was hard and peaceful because you knew you and your son were safe with Choso.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree

[pretty-sparkle-bomb]

Guys it's sporting season in my school and damn did I mention how hot he looks...? No?

Check out my Bakugo Masterlist here! This series is linked under the name "Highschool Crush"

P1, P2, P3, Pt 4, P5

♡~

You have to come! I promise, it'll be worth it!" Mina says to you on the phone, her eyebrows furrowed and lips curled into a pout. You look to the top right corner of your phone and sigh.

11:00

"I don't wanna. He doesn't like me. I barely saw him this week and he hasn't even breathed in my direction," you mutter, watching her tear her closet apart in an attempt to find something cute to wear.

Tomorrow was one of the biggest days of the school year—the annual sporting festival.

Originally, you had everything planned out. You would be in the marching band, run the female relay race, and maybe participate in one of the distance races.

However, life seemed to have other plans because you were replaced in the band without explanation, and you pulled a leg muscle while playing football, leaving you useless for the rest of the week.

"He was busy! You of all people should know that, y/n. He's been training to beat everyone on the field. I hope you remember that your man is a perfectionist and won't stop short of being the best, especially since no one is allowed to use their quirks," she rambles, giving you a pointed look. "Now, blue or pink?" she holds up two cute tops to her upper body, giving you a little pose.

"Blue," you decide, knowing that the sky-colored tube top will complement her body and give her a soft appearance. "I know, but men have priorities. Maybe I'm not a priority to him," you continue, shoulders sagging slightly.

"Really?" she deadpans, dropping the pair of jeans she selected. "Maybe you haven't given him a reason to make you his priority," she shoots back, her eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

Her words hit a chord within you. Maybe she was right.

"Come on, I'll be there first thing tomorrow morning. I'll help you pick a cute fit. You don't have to do anything tomorrow but sit there and cheer him on. It'll be fun!" she begs, picking up the phone and looking into it, giving you puppy eyes.

"Fine. First thing tomorrow morning." You agree, and she jumps around excitedly. "Oh, I am so going to push you into him tomorrow!"

"Mina!"

♡~

As you step onto the field, your eyes immediately dart across the large expanse. Tents are scattered everywhere, each housing different groups—athletes warming up, the marching band tuning their instruments, shifters practicing their quirks for the show, and first-aid stations preparing for the inevitable bumps of the day.

"Find him yet?" Jirou nudges your hand. You continue searching, going on your tiptoes. Why does the field have to be so large? You groan, hanging your head. Mina links her hand with yours and Jirou does the same, leading you to an area where you'd be able to see all the action taking place.

They spread a blanket and plop down, gesturing for you to do the same. You kick off your shoes and lay on Jirou's lap as she plays with the ends of your hair.

Mina's eyes are scanning the field as she taps her foot, occasionally gasping when she thinks she sees him.

"You'll spot him soon enough," Mina teases, glancing over with a grin. "Just be patient."

"Easy for you to say," you mumble, covering your face with your hands. "I feel like I’m going crazy over here."

Jirou chuckles softly, carefully applying some mascara. "Relax, he’ll be out there doing his thing soon. And trust me, you’ll know when he’s on the field."

You peek out between your fingers, sighing. "You two are ridiculous."

"You love us," Mina sing-songs, stretching out on the blanket next to you. "But seriously, when you see him out there, just let it all go. Cheer him on, and don’t overthink it. Scream for him."

"Ayo?" Jirou teases, and the two burst into laughter.

The speakers crackle to life as Aizawa starts listing off the events. The excitement builds around you, with students chatting and cheering, the athletes gearing up for their races, and the band beginning to play a lively tune in the background.

And then, you spot ashen blond hair.

It's him.

It's him, and he's looking right back at you. It's him, and his face is filled with surprise. It’s him, and his eyes soften when they meet yours. It’s him, and… oh my gosh, did he just smile at you?

Bakugo thinks you look gorgeous. Scratch that, he doesn't know how to describe you. No word in the dictionary compares to you in this moment.

He feels his heart tighten. Is this how you feel when you look at him? He feels all mushy, and it's scaring him. Why are you making him feel this way? So... vulnerable.

He looks away and tries to focus on the assignment at hand. His coach pats his shoulder and hands him the baton. Right, he needs to find his team and go over their plan. He doesn't have time right now. He's supposed to be busy.

"Did he just look away from you?" Jirou asks calmly, even though she wants to go over there and rip his head off.

Your eyes drop to the ground and your mouth is dry. Yeah, he did. You just shake your head. "I dunno."

Mina rubs your hand. "I'm sure he didn't mean to, bun. He's probably busy."

You scoff, turning away. “It’s whatever. If he doesn’t want me, I can always go and cheer for Midoriya.” Picking up your bag and slipping your shoes back on, you make your way to the athlete’s tent. Unbeknownst to you, Mina and Jirou secretly fist-bumped behind you. Their plan was in motion.

“Hey, Midoriya!” you chirp, walking closer to the greenette. He turns around, a slight smile on his face as he fixes his knee band, standing up from his crouching position and doing a pistol squat. He mumbles something to himself before running a hand through his hair. “Funny seeing you here, thought you said you weren’t coming.” He chuckles, placing a hand on the small of your back and leading you to the middle of the tent, where all the others were.

“I know, it was a last-minute decision.” You play with your hair as he pulls out a chair and motions for you to have a seat.

“Oh… well in that case, you think you could help me out a bit?” he pulls out a bottle of sunscreen and a black headband, sitting cross-legged in front of you and taking off his shirt.

The request was a bit unusual, but you knew Midoriya. The kid was too pure for his own good, so you knew that this was innocent.

“Yeah, sure,” you say, squeezing some sunscreen into your hand. As you start rubbing it onto his back, he hums contentedly, completely unaware of the pair of carmine eyes focused on the two of you. Honestly, screw Bakugo. Why not focus on someone who actually pays attention to you?

“So, are you ready for your race?” you ask, trying to distract yourself from your thoughts. Midoriya’s muscles tense slightly under your touch, and he nods, his eyes closed. “I’ve been training with Todoroki a lot. Maybe I can give Kacchan a run for his money.”

You blink in surprise. “Aren’t the boys from 1A going up against 1B?”

He smiles, passing you the headband you gave him. “No, they made some changes this year. We’re going to be making our own teams.”

“Oh,” you blink. Well, who were you supposed to cheer for now? Bakugo or Midoriya? You make a secure knot at the back of his head, fingers carding through his hair in a lousy attempt to tame his mop of curls.

Without warning, the voice of Present Mic booms across the area, nearly bursting your eardrums. “All teams for the boys relay race, please proceed to the track!”

Midoriya stands up, adjusting the headband with a bright smile. “Looks like that’s my cue,” he says, bouncing on his feet in preparation for the relay. He glances at you with a hopeful look. “You’ll cheer for me, right?”

You offer him a soft smile, but your mind is spinning. Should you cheer for Bakugo or Midoriya? Both are your friends, but one of them… well, he makes your heart race in ways you can't explain. Before you can respond, Midoriya pats your shoulder lightly and jogs off toward the track, leaving you with that lingering question.

As the teams start assembling, you spot Bakugo on the other side with his arms crossed, looking focused. You can't help but notice that his eyes keep drifting toward you. Each time they do, something tugs at your chest.

Why did he look away earlier?

Mina and Jirou appear beside you, both with mischievous grins. “So, who are you rooting for?” Mina teases, bumping your shoulder.

Jirou smirks, passing you a bottle of water. “Yeah, y/n. Bakugo or Midoriya?”

You bite your lip, unsure of what to say. You want to cheer for both of them, but your heart keeps pulling you in one direction.

Just then, Bakugo glances at you again, his gaze intense. For a second, it feels like he’s waiting for your answer too.

“Not sure. Come on, I need to get closer to the track,” you say, standing up and making your way to the field.

As you and your friends move to the side, Bakugo’s sharp gaze follows your every move. Watching you help Deku makes his blood boil—not at you, never at you—but at how easily that nerd made you smile, asking you to do something only couples should share. Couldn't he have asked round-face instead?

He steals another glance at you as you walk with Mina and Jirou, and his mind races as much as his heart. He’s used to being in control, but when it comes to you, control slips through his fingers. He keeps catching himself looking for you in the crowd and his heart stutters when your eyes meet. The worst part? He has no idea what to do about any of it.

“Dammit,” he mutters under his breath, trying to shake the irritation bubbling inside. He’s the best. He’s Bakugo Katsuki. No one—not Deku, not anyone—was going to get in his way. Especially when it came to you.

As he watches you settle onto the blanket with Mina and Jirou, he makes a final decision.

If you’re still undecided, then he’ll show you exactly who deserves your attention. He’s going to leave every other competitor in the dust, prove that no one can compare to him.

Bakugo takes a deep breath, his eyes narrowing in focus as the call for the race start echoes across the field. He feels the adrenaline rush as the onlookers cheer and scream.

He’ll show you. He’ll show you what it means to be the best. He’s going to win, and when he does, he wants you to be cheering for him.

♡~

Taglist!

@mimidonottouch @mikestuffffs @vant3hell @succulent-momma @minkyungseokie @sugurusmoon @idkwhattocallmyselfs @cutebutpsychooxx @jprincesssf @unofficialsapphire @zanyqueencoffee @maddie-rose-1 @madisonnnnnstvr @aefillor @love-me-satoru @meeeepsworld @oddball08 @reads-stuff-quietly @starmycar @djlance-rock @bkgsdoll @nqobil3 @your-mum3000 @dynakats @emmaiskoolio @ggrumbir @ginevraxrogers @emmab3mma @andyetshewrote @ggrumbir @the-weeping-author @suki0 @drxgonspine @bunny-b34r @annoying-bitxh @ushygushybaby @hauntedstudentobservationus @spicynoodles23 @xrenka @djlance-rock @amanita-raine @keikokashi @krbkswifey @shoo-00

[fiber-optic-alligator]

Desperation vs. Domestication (Pt. 2)

Pairing: IDW Drift x Human Reader

WARNING: This story contains soft vore. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read this story.

Word Count: 4431

Summary: Though you have been lulled into a deep sense of security by Drift's kindness and comfort, you still haven't completely lost the need to be free. A terrible nightmare refuels your desire for escape...but Drift isn't someone who wants to let you go.

HEEHEEHEEHEE I REALLY WANTED TO WRITE A PART 2 OF THIS...so I did. It's because Drift is my all-time favorite Transformer and I absolutely LOVE putting my favorite characters through angst. If you enjoyed reading part 1, then I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Likes, comments, feedback, and reblogs are never expected, but always appreciated! Enjoy! :D

Here is the link to pt. 1 if you haven’t read it!

Also available to read on AO3!

  Two months later…

  You dream of Earth tonight.

  There are fields; you are standing in one. Long Bermuda grass tickles your ankles with the gentle presence of the planet recognizing its own. The endless green is splattered with occasional droplets of color: pink poppies, yellow sunflowers, marigolds, dandelions. It is warm. There is a slight wind blowing, playing with your hair. You turn your face towards the sunlight and bask in the relief of knowing you are home.

  All of a sudden, you hear a sound. Thumping. Steady, rhythmic. Loud. You feel the wind die down and suddenly the sun is gone, and there is only darkness. A massive shadow blots out all of the light. You see a figure looming over you, red-and-white with bright blue eyes that stare into your soul and make you feel terror.

  You try to run, but find you cannot move your legs. There is nothing you can do when you watch a giant hand reach down in slow motion and pluck you up, holding you between titanic fingers. The monster’s mouth opens, and then you are tumbling down, right into an abyss of metal and isolation. The Earth melts away forever. You are trapped. You are alone.

  Shooting forward out of your nightmare, you hear yourself scream. The squishy floor underneath you makes you lose your footing when you scramble upward in a blind panic and fall into Drift’s stomach wall. Everything moves, the organ grumbling unhappily at you being awake. Your hands scramble at the mesh cables. Little pink bubbles of cybernetic blood pop anxiously beneath their semi-transparent surfaces. The walls close in to squeeze, holding you in a secure hug, attempting to keep you still. But you cannot think. You are scared, and you feel trapped, so you desperately begin to thrash and fight against the stomach.

  Drift’s voice booms above you, panicked. “Little one? Little one?!”

  “Let me go!” you shriek. “Please, letmegoletmegoletmego!”

  The walls loosen up, freeing you. You collapse into the fetal position, gasping while sweat beads your brow and your heart goes crazy.

  Drift presses his hands over his middle. “Little one, little one, shhhh, shh, shh, shh,” he hushes frantically. “Safe, safe…safe, all is safe...no need for fear…”

  Gradually, you calm down. Only when you are no longer trembling does Drift tentatively begin to squeeze you again. In and out, slow kneading, like he’s silently coaxing you to continue breathing at a healthier pace. “Little one…okay?” he asks.

  Your voice quivers. “I-I’m fine. I’m okay. It-It was a bad dream. A nightmare.” You sit upright and lean into the stomach wall. Drift holds you close, the undulating muscle relaxing you with its constant massage. His biolights pulse and flicker, a clear sign of his stress. You woke him up with your screams. It makes you feel bad, so you snuggle his cables further. The robot’s stomach is not a big place, but Drift likes to be conscious of you. The support you provide him in completing this task is obviously appreciated, because he hums softly and pats his hand over where you are.

  There is peace again. Peace and warmth. But you don’t feel the usual safety. There is a lingering pit of dread growing deep within your gut, foul roots clawing their way through your body, leaving you jittery, uneased. Your nightmare is the first one in months, and it’s a sure sign things are not right.

  It has been such a long time since you thought of your possible escape plan. You don’t know how long, but you do know that you can’t be comfortable here anymore. Your mind is sending the signals loud and clear.

  No more stalling, you think to yourself. No more being complacent.

  You are not domesticated yet.

  When Drift lets you out of here…you will go through with the plan to take an escape pod home. For real this time.

  It takes you weeks to perfect your plan. And when you do finally have it all figured out, you come to the conclusion that things may end up being more complicated than you thought. Escaping a spaceship filled with giant alien robots is hard enough, yes. But then there’s the issue of what will happen when you return to Earth. You don’t know how long you’ve been abducted. It could be months. It could be years. What if all of your family and friends are long gone by the time you get home? What if things are so different that you’ve been completely left behind?

  No. You can’t think like that. A sharp patting to your cheeks snaps you out of it. Keep it together. This is the moment you have been waiting for. Regardless of what awaits you on Earth, you will be there to face it.

  You’ve packed everything you own into a small fabric knapsack your mech gifted you during your first days here (Who knew robots are such good knitters?). It’s not much, not much at all: snacks Drift gives you, strange pellets that clean your teeth, three cans of filtered water…but that’s all you really require for the trip you are going to embark on. You don’t believe it will be particularly long. The escape pods need to have some sort of device that allows them to leap through lightyears to their destinations. You believe this because you’ve watched the mothership do it from the observation windows Drift likes to bring you to sometimes. Hyperspace will occasionally be activated, with stars and planets blurring together into dazzling white paint streaks before coming to an abrupt halt in a totally new galaxy.

  Now, do you know how lightjumping works? Absolutely not. Last time you were on Earth, no such human technology had been invented yet. So you don’t exactly know how you’ll get the escape pod to lightjump like the ship does. But you’ll find a way. You have no choice.

  Now for the hard part: getting away from Drift long enough to activate the escape pod and blast away. He’s not going to make it easy for you. Drift doesn’t like letting you out of his sight if you aren’t in his room, and hardly lets you roam free. You’ve spent hours, both within his stomach and out, pondering how to go about this. It’s left you with the agonizing decision that you’ll just have to wing it somehow.

  The door to his room slides open. You’ve been sitting on his berth with your hands beneath your head and one leg crossed over the other, thinking, thinking, thinking, that at first you nearly didn’t hear him come in. You sit up to greet him with more eagerness than you’d like to show. The nightmare didn’t stop your affection for Drift from rearing its persistent head.

  There’s no waiting for him to give you his time today. When he enters the room, his focus is immediately on you with no prior distractions. Drift walks with a spring in his step, his finials perking up like an enthusiastic dog. You notice a small white box he holds in one hand, and think nothing of it. Drift’s room is decorated with countless knickknacks from other planets. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s brought some strange little souvenir home.

  “Hey, big guy,” you murmur happily when he kneels down before you. He settles the box to the side and cups both hands behind you, humming his typical car engine-purr greeting. You hug him when he draws you forth so he can nuzzle his nose into your middle. “I’m guessing you missed me?”

  Drift beep-boops excitedly. He gives you an affectionate tickle to your side, causing you to giggle. Your reaction delights him. He keeps it up, and pretty soon you are laughing so hard your stomach hurts. “D-Drift, s-stop! I-I can’t breathe!”

  He gives you one last light prod, then ends the bout of torture with more cuddles. You recover from the laughter, feeling airy and light like nothing else matters except for the giant robot holding you.

  “Little one,” he coos. “My little one.”

  “Mhm,” you mumble goodnaturedly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m yours.”

  He suddenly looks like he’s remembered something very important, and he straightens, chirping rapidly. You watch as he grabs the white box and, to your surprise, presents it to you. You glance at it, then turn to him. “For me?” you ask, pointing at yourself.

  He chirps again and nods.

  You take it from him and open it with a slight air of confusion, because he’s never given you something like this before. You think it might be a piece of jewelry, or some sort of charm. But what you see inside is neither of those things. You suck in a sharp breath of pure disbelief and go numb.

  It’s a collar. A damn collar. Sleek and narrow, its solid red with a single white stripe circumnavigating it. On one side is a strange symbol of a boxy red robot’s face-the same symbol he has on his chest. These are his colors, you realize. He’s making us match. He wants the other mechs to know that he owns you.

  Drift rumbles expectantly. When you remain frozen, unable to pry your eyes away from the collar, he gently pries it out of your now slightly shaking hands. With extreme carefulness, he clasps it around your neck. It fits comfortably and locks with a quiet click.

  “My little one,” he repeats. “Mine.”

  He’s not trying to scare you. You know he isn’t. Yet your throat is dry, and the snug weight of the collar makes you feel sick.

  You need to get the hell off of this ship.

  You spend the night feverishly trying to break the collar off, working yourself up like a caged animal driven mad by captivity. But no matter how hard you yank at it, it remains stubbornly fast around your neck. You refuse to eat the food given to you and cry yourself to sleep within a very concerned Drift’s belly, who can’t seem to console you no matter how hard he tries.

  Drift doesn’t know what to do with you.

  You’ve been moping ever since he gave you the collar. Over the next few days, any sort of drive to escape has left you. You're depressed and disappointed in him for what he’s done. You don’t want to talk to him. You don’t want to accept any of his gifts. Blanket after pillow after plushie-all made by him, with the crude markings of homemade love-are ignored. You shy away from his touch and reject his attention. When he swallows you at night, you give him no inclination you care. You sit like a stone within him and just…stare off vacantly, unable to ignore the collar around your neck.

  He’s brought you to the ship’s doctor multiple times. On the first trip, the old red medic bot looked you over and finished his checkup with a shrug and dismissive chuff. The second time, he growled at Drift and waved him away. And on the third time, he didn’t even let him through the door. There’s nothing physically wrong with you. But mentally, how could they know? How could he know he’s hurt you? You trusted him to treat you with some level of respect despite your situation, and he had, until now. The collar was your breaking point. There truly is no way for him to ever see you as anything more than a pet, and it hurts you, because by god, you love him.

  “…Little one?”

  Drift calls out to you with a soft, sad tone. You huddle up tighter beneath one of your blankets and give no answer.

  You hear him shift at his desk. There’s silence between the two of you that is not wanted. He heaves a low sigh and tries again. “Little one…please?”

  Damn your heart, you can’t keep giving him the silent treatment when he sounds like he’s about to cry.

  You push the blanket off of your head. Drift slouches in his chair, back bent like an old man’s. His finials are drooping, and the glow from his biolights is dimmer than usual. He’s obviously been letting his personal hygiene go for the sake of finding a way to help you, and it hurts to know he’s in this state because of your shitty attitude towards what he simply sees as a gift. The collar is a curse, but you can’t exactly tell him that, can you? This entire situation is all your fault.

  It's the treacherous part of your mind which attempts to convince you of this. It partially works. Giving in, you sit up slowly, drawing the blanket tightly around your shoulders and tilting your head while giving him a questioning look.

  He’s surprised by your action, like he genuinely wasn’t expecting you to respond to this extent. But he takes advantage of it. Drift offers you a hopeful smile and picks something up from his desk. He stands and walks to you, going slow. You don’t flinch when he crouches down to your level. The warm light of his eyes leaves a kind feeling on your skin.

  Tentatively, Drift extends his hand. In his palm is a piece of chocolate, one of the many treats he has at his disposal to provide you with when he feels you are being especially good. It’s an olive branch. A reach in the right direction.

  You hesitate…and then you think, Oh, what the hell. Staying mad at Drift when he has no clue he’s done something wrong in the first place won’t get you anywhere. So you accept the candy and take a small bite.

  He sags with relief, exhaust whooshing from his nose as he watches you eat. When you're finished, he moves his hand closer, twining the palm around you and resting the tips of his digits against your head and sides. You hold his index finger, resting your forehead against it and closing your eyes as a sign of trust. But you feel guilty.

  “I’m sorry,” you whisper, knowing he won’t understand. But you say it anyway. “I love you. I love you so, so much. But you're destroying me. I can’t stay here anymore.”

  A tear slips down your cheek. You don’t notice it until Drift gently brushes it away.

  “I have to go.” Your voice breaks. “I need to leave. I hope you’ll learn why. And I hope you won’t hate me for it. I-I don’t think I could handle it if you did. Please don’t hate me. Please don’t think I hated you.”

  Drift coos. His reply is indecipherable. You think he’s trying to comfort you…but you’ll never know for sure.

  He doesn’t swallow you tonight. You don’t know why; maybe he thinks you need a break. Maybe he just wants to hold you in a different fashion this time. You stay awake hours after he falls asleep, your little form nestled in the crook of his neck while he snoozes on his stomach with his arms crossed beneath his massive pillow. You peer off into the darkness, listening to his quiet breaths.

  For the longest time, you’ve thought of this room as yours and his. A space the two of you share together. Ours. It's fed into your delusional ideations of a future in which the two of you learn each other’s languages, where you stand on equal ground, you belonging to him and him belonging to you. A future where mechs and humans join hands and say “I see you. I know you. I understand you and you understand me. Neither of us is higher than the other.”

  But it will never happen. The collar around your neck is physical proof. There is no future between the two of you anymore. If you want to be you again…you need to let Drift go.

  You shuffle away from the bot’s neck and stand. The only parts of him that are lit up right now are the red symbol on his chest and the soft blue of his mouth. He’s so peaceful. This giant alien, who you know has fought in many battles from the scars you can see, is soothed by your presence. You, an insignificant little human being. The dynamic is honestly quite hilarious. You're like his very own version of a chihuahua.

 You want to hug his nose, knowing you will never have another chance again. But Drift is a light sleeper, and you're testing the waters enough already. You can’t risk it. It pains you, but you drop your arms and turn away.

  Using the metal ladder he made for you so you’d have easy access to his berth, you climb down and grab your knapsack. Quietly padding across the long expanse of the room, you make it to the door. It senses your presence and slides open. You force yourself not to look back when you walk out.

   You wonder if he will cry for you when he wakes up and finds you gone.

  The spaceship is ominous at night. The only thing you can hear as you traverse the hallways is your heartbeat pulsing in your ears. You're trying to be quiet; passing by multiple rooms with slumbering bots inside has you holding your breath and then letting it out in a forcefully slow, reedy wheeze. You are, after all, a mouse in a prison filled with cats; slow and steady and silent wins the race.

  You survey the elevator when you get to it, at a loss of how you’ll possibly find a way to operate it due to how small you are. A miracle finds its way to you, however, in the form of a mech. This one you don’t recognize. He has a similar color scheme to Drift, but is noticeably bulkier, with a strange cannon sitting on his right shoulder and a blue eyepiece over the adjacent optic. All of his focus is on the datapad in his hands as he summons the elevator. You wait for the doors to open and for him to step inside before darting after him. Luckily he doesn’t look up once on the short journey. Your cover remains unblown when the doors part again and he heads off. You go in the opposite direction, because like hell are you going to follow the strange robot to someplace where there are probably more strange robots.

  You slip in and out of sight, staying far away from any mechs who are awake. They do not see you, which means you are doing this right-though there are some alarming instances where you think you’ll be caught. One such occurrence happens when a tall, thin blue mech with a chest like the front of a helicopter nearly sees you duck into an open storage room for quick cover. Its single orb ominously scans the darkened room. You watch from beneath a large shelving unit, terrified out of your mind. You don’t move, nor do you make a sound, keeping a shaking hand over your mouth.

  Finally, after what feels like hours, the mech stomps away. You let your head fall forward respitefully.

  You know you're nearing your one-way ticket to Earth when you see bright yellow signs plastered on the walls with loud black alien words telling you to hurry left with the help of large arrows. Escape pod symbols, accompanied by a funny little robot mascot, are the giveaway. You feel a sort of giddy euphoria swell up within you. You're almost there. You're going to escape. You're going to go home. It all seems far too good to be true; sure, you’ve imagined this scenario happening over and over again, but you never really did believe it would happen.

  You pinch your arm multiple times just to make sure you aren’t dreaming. This is not in your head. This is happening. You really are going back to Earth.

  Your collar suddenly vibrates. And then it starts to screech.

  You nearly jump out of your own skin. The alarm is loud, piercing, and undeniably going to alert someone to your presence. You slam your fists against it multiple times, but it doesn’t let up. Your heart sinks when the realization of what's going on hits.

  Shit. He put a tracker in it.

  You need to run. You shove yourself forward into a full-on sprint, dashing down the last remainder of this hallway, then turning the corner and seeing the numerous escape pods all lined up in the wall. You choose the first one, grabbing the edge of the circular door and pulling with all of your might. The tendons in your neck strain as you grunt and slowly bring the door back with you. Clamoring in, you give it one last heave before it shuts on its own and seals you inside. You hear the lock click into place. The entire cabin flickers to life, with the lights on and the control panel booting up. As you expected, everything is far too big for you to reach. But it seems you won’t need to. A loud robotic voice emanates from the central console, speaking to you in the native mech language.

  Your collar is still going off. You don’t have a lot of time.

  “I-I can’t understand you!” you yell over the din. “I’m a human, from Earth! I speak English!”

  The voice pauses. Seconds later, to your amazement, it talks, and you can understand. “Language notifications made. Destination updated. Scanning…” A panel on the ceiling pops open, and a blue light filters out, washing over you. “Scanning complete. Species: Homo Sapien. Homeworld: Earth. Milky Way Galaxy. Status: Critically endangered. Suggesting immediate travel to Earth.”

  You clap your hands. “Yes! Yes, that’s it! Earth, set the destination to Earth!”

  “Destination set. Awaiting command to launch LOST LIGHT LIFEPOD 01.”

  You are about to give the order when something slams against the door. You whirl around, your heart stuttering when you see who’s there. It’s Drift. He’s made it. And he looks horrified. With trembling fingers, he yanks on the handle. When the pod remains fastly shut, he pounds on the circular window with so much force the entire thing shudders and you think he’s going to rip it right off of its hinges. “Little one!” he screams, voice muffled beyond the barrier of glass. “Little one! Open…!” The rest of the sentence comes out as sharp metal shrieks.

  You stand there helplessly. The pod once again inquires for your command, yet you can’t find it within yourself to speak.

  Drift is doing everything he can to get to you. He’s like a rabid beast, clawing at the window, teeth bared in visible frustration. His biolights are going mad when he roars and sends his whole body into the door. This time, it does give a little. You can see some dents in the gray metal.

  This…is a side of Drift you have never seen. It is desperate, vicious. And it terrifies you. You stumble back to the opposite end of the pod and curl up, hugging your knapsack to your chest like a child squeezing their favorite stuffed animal. Drift continues his futile attack on the door, but pauses when he makes eye contact with you. His face falls. His fists relax and slide downward to press palm against the glass.

  He’s quiet as he seems to reflect on how he just presented himself front of you, then whispers heartbrokenly. “...Sorry.” Tears stream down his cheeks. His hot vexation melts away and exposes his remorseful center. “Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Little one. Y/N.”

  Oh my god.

  All noise ceases when you register what he just said. Your name. He said your name. He’s never done that before. You didn’t think he knew your name.

  He learned to say it. For you.

  Drift whimpers like a kicked dog, moving to crouch lower. “Y/N. Y/N, please. Stay. Stay with me. Please don’t go. I love you.”

  You’ve changed his life. You don’t need to be told this. You know you’ve brought him a sense of joy he hasn’t felt in years. You didn’t come here of your own free will. But you freely chose to love him. You gave yourself up and became his everything while he became yours. Isn’t he your home? Isn’t he the one who saved you? Can you really leave someone who cares about you so much?

  Your legs move on their own accord. Your heart beats with his and you take tentative steps towards the door. Drift twitters and gives you an encouraging nod, gesturing for you to keep walking.

  Why do you want to leave him so badly? Why would you want to throw away this perfect life?

  Your little human hands come to rest right over his massive robotic ones. You two are separated, but you think you can feel the warmth coming from him. Drift bonks his forehead against the window anticipatingly. “Come on,” he whispers. “Come on. It’s…okay. You're okay. Please.”

  Your hands are human. You will never see another pair again if you return to him.

  Your life is not supposed to be perfect. A human’s life is messy, and disastrous, and chaotic, and beautiful. His life is too, but not in the same way as yours.

  “Goodbye, Drift,” you murmur, voice breaking. “LOST LIGHT LIFEPOD 01…take me to Earth.”

  The escape pods hums and rumbles. “Command accepted,” it announces. “Preparing ejection in three…two…one.”

  The last thing you see and hear before the pod lurches forward and rockets out of its dock is Drift’s agonized expression and his wrenching wail.

  Your vessel speeds away. You get a fantastic view of the ship in all of its stunning glory. It felt so gigantic when you were inside, but from out here, you can fully comprehend its overwhelming proportions. You watch it rapidly shrink as you gain distance from it, until it's just another speck of light in the universe. And when you can’t even see that anymore, you allow yourself to collapse against the floor eagles-spread. You gaze up at the ceiling, feeling surprisingly hollow. There is no victorious sense of triumph, no excitement to return home. You don’t even know where home is anymore. Somehow, after everything you’ve gone through, you’ve come out even more lost than you already were.

  The waterworks start shortly after the escape pod jumps into hyperspace. Heaving sobs, messy tears, you lie there and weep to the stars, not noticing when your collar finally stops beeping.

[your-local-baguette]

Giving the blue lock boys a massage...♡

Part 2

Warnings: not proofread, contain spoilers for those who haven't read the neo egoist league, a little suggestive proceed at your own risk

Itoshi rin

Rin alway ended up with back and neck pain after training or a match. It drove him crazy, never going away, it was a pain in the ass. Had he known having a massage from you was alway an open solution he would ask for one each day.

You sat at his side, leaning over him, your thumbs pressing gently in his lower back. A low hum escaped his lips, his greenish hair feel on his eyes, giving his tired expression an attractive vibe. He looked at you from the corner of his eye, admiring your focused features. But his eyes slowly rolled up for a second as he felt your thumb press in just the right spot. "Right there..." He said with a low voice, pressing his cheek against the mattress. You didn't say anything pressing your knuckles in that exact spot again. Another low hum escaped his lips "hey dumbass..." You looked at him fron the corner of your eye, signaling you were listening. "You've got a knack for this, it's free service ?" He asked eith a hint of exhaustion in his voice " yea, you're the only one with that privilege" you said still focused on reducing in back pain. "Good...thank..you" he said with a slight blush on his cheeks. "You can massage me more often...." You hummed at his statement "please...?" He asked with a hint of embarrassment in his voice. "Sure thing" but when you looked over to him, his eyes were closed and he seemed fast asleep. You ran two fingers along his spine and pulled down his shirt, leaning to kiss his cheek "i love you...rin" you whispered in his ear before getting up to head to your dorms. He opened one eye, looking at the door, "i love you too..."

Itoshi sae

He was looking down at your much smaller frame, one of his hand pressing in his back. He looked to the side for a second before looking back at you. "Okay..." He said, a smile spread on your face, "great" you said with a calm voice, leading him to your shared bedroom. "Lay down on your stomach, i'll be right back" he did as said over the silk sheets of the king sized bed. He looked at the time

11:03pm

He smiled, laying his cheek against the pillow, he heard your slow footsteps enter the room, you dimmed the lights slowly. You put a candle on the bedside table, he admired your attire, a cream beige tank top with long sleeves, baby blue loose jeans and some mix matched socks. It was a soft comfortable outfit, just how he liked seeing you. He kept on admiring you while you changed the water for the flowers. The vanilla and soft lemon smell of the candle gave an intimate vibe to the room. When you came back, he felt the mattress dip a little before he felt you sit on the back on his thighs, trapping him there, not like he would want to move anyway. He let himself relax completely, helping you remove his shirt, tossing it to the side, not caring even just a bit. His body shuddered when he felt your warm hands slowly caress his back. "Where does it hurt ?" You said running your fingers along his back "lower back.." he said, closing his eyes, waiting for you to start massaging his sore muscles. It's crazy how he was completely at your mercy, you could anything to him and he wouldn't complain. A sigh escaped him when your knuckles rolled into his lower back, pressing hard, otherwise he wouldn't feel anything. "Mhmm" you could see he was enjoying it, you started pressing your thumbs instead, making a circle pattern. You kept one hand to massage his lower back and the other to twist some of his brownish red hair locks around your fingers. Scratching his scalp lightly, another low hum escaped his lips while he leaned back a little. A slight giggle escaped your lips "enjoying yourself, aren't you?" He nodded in response" don't stop..." This went on for a while and you actually both ended falling asleep at like one am, he had you trapped underneath him. Because you actually fell asleep well before him....

Chigiri hyoma

Chigiri was laying in your lap after practice with Manshine city. He was really exhausted, you ran your fingers through his hair, it really relaxed him, feeling your fingers scratch his scalp. But he kept letting out small grunt whenever he moved his legs just the slightest. "You okay ?" You asked, your voice filled with concern. "I got really bad leg cramps" you sighted a bit "want me to massage your leg ?" He looked up at you eith pleading like eyes "i take that as a yes" you moved his head to rest on a pillow, you yook an extra to support his legs and you sat to his side. "Where is your leg cramp ?" He looked st you with half closed eyes" back of my thigh" you moved slightly and slid your hands below his thigh" tell me if hurt you" you said as your hand started to rub his skin gently and pressing lightly in it. It didn't take long before a sight of relief escaped Chigiri's lips. His eyes were fully closed, focusing on the feeling of your warm hands massaging his cramps away. You hummed a song, lifting his leg a bit to place it on your lap, tracing two lines along his thigh to distract him from the pain. "This feels..good" you smiled stopping your humming "i'm glad" you said, gently pushing in his muscles "do you still have cramps ?" He hald opened his eyes" no but keep going, your hand feels nice" you chuckled, tracing along the side of his muscles, there were pretty well built. "Trying to fluster me, huh?" You chuckled again "i don't know what your talking about" you both started laughing, the others around the room started to laugh along with you two.

Micheal kaiser

You were in ness and micheal's room, it was pure silent because well, micheal wasn't there. But as he walked in he already started complaining "my neck hurt from looking down on these idiots all day" you sighted "i thought you'd be looking up at them instead" he looked at you "oh? My darling is here ? What a way to greet her husband" you looked up at him, tapping the floor with your foot. "Thank you very much" he said with one his smirks latched onto his face. He sat down on the ground leaning his back against your legs. You tossed your phone on the couch, cracking your fingers before, resting your hands on his shoulders. "Hold on Liebling" he said before taking off his shirt, allowing more access to his shoulder and neck, you smirked, leaning next to his ear "what a view.." he smirked "you feed my ego darling, i'm pleased that you think so highly of me, Liebling" you hummed, your hands resting on his shoulders again, pressing into them. Even the huge egoist that was your husband deserved a little reward. "Ahh~, missed my Liebling's touch" you kissed the top of his head, raiding your hands to his neck, pressing into it from the back. You could feel micheal relax under your touch "you've got something to make me weak in the knees dear" said micheal, with another confident smirk latched on his lips. You kissed the top of his head l, pressing your thumbs into his neck a little more. A low hum escaped him, "i'd stay here forever if i could" he said, feeling very pleased with the massage you were giving him. Another satisfied sigh escaped him, as he leaned a little more into you "enjoying yourself ?" You said calmly "very much" he answered, loving the feeling of your touch against his bare skin.

I'm still not taking request for blue lock but here a little vote since it's been a while, be quick though~

Love you guys!

[dilfdemolisher]

Hey,

Heard you are in a Hannibal mood right now, so could you please write a needy Hannibal one-shot? They have been busy with their respective jobs and Hannibal comes home after a long, at first just wants to kiss and cuddle, but soon discovers how desperate his body is?😏(nsfw?)

Sorry, if I made you uncomfortable

an: I wrote this while listening to Honeymoon and I feel that its evident; so i insist y'all listen to Salvatore while reading...

YEARNING

Summary: A moment to lounge and enjoy peace becomes much more eventful when Hannibal arrives homes from work—hungry;)

Content Warning: Smut, Hannibal Lector is SIMP!!! Spread the word, oral and fingering (f!receiving), male masturbation (he jacks off during snack-time)

Word Count: 2k

It’s nice to finally have the opportunity to lounge—nothing to write—no one to speak to—no where to go—just you, your book, and the sun accompanying you while you sit comfortably in the lounge chair that has recently been brought outside.  

You always believe you’re not one who’s affected by the seasons; that cold, dreary weather doesn't get the best of you. And you believe that until the weather starts to warm your body up and you feel like you just crawled out of a cave and haven't seen the sunlight in years. 

Your whole body feels hot, and your internal temperature rising from the hot sun on your barely covered skin. You didn’t want the sun to have to penetrate through anything—you wanted it direct. 

You can’t help but let out a sigh. You allow your head to roll back and take your eyes off the pages you are reading, savouring the way the heat permeates through your hair and warms your scalp. So caught up in your relaxation, you didn’t become aware of your partner's presence until you felt a hand on your shoulder that delicately squeezed you. 

You don’t feel the need to open your eyes; you just feel content. 

“You’re the most divine creature I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” He speaks. Oh, how you’ve missed his voice. You’ve both been so caught up in your respective careers that the simple attention he’s giving you right now makes the world seem like it’s stopped spinning and that it’s just you and him, no one else. 

He leans down and peppers kisses onto your shoulder; you can’t help but smile as his mouth trails upwords along the side of your neck. 

Your sure he can hear the grin that's carved onto your face as you speak, “I’m savouring the weather. Who knows how long it will be until we get another day like this.”

He only responds with a hum in agreement, or maybe just in enjoyment of his activities; your not quite sure. “Care to join me?’ You ask in hopes this isn’t just a fleeting moment; you miss him—you want him. 

He stays mute until he brings his lips to your carotid artery and lightly nibbles on the skin that serves to protect it. “I’ve missed you more than you know. I’m tempted to eat you up so I can have a piece of you forever.” He says before hashly nips you. 

It’s a frighting statement indeed, but he said it to you. If it were for someone else, it would be a threat, but for you, its a declaration of love. 

You can’t help but blush at his statement, “What's gotten into you?” 

He doesn't answer; instead, he continues to manifest his care with kisses instead of verbalizing it. His hand makes its way up your back as he pulls his head away. Before you can complain, he places his hands on your shoulders and rubs. You can’t help the small moan that makes its way out of your mouth due to the pressure on your muscles. 

You hear him quietly chuckle above you. You tilt your head back and open your eyes to look at him. 

He’s staring right back at you with a satisfied grin.

It’s ridiculous, and you know it. But sometimes you remember how beautiful he is and it takes you off guard, turning you into a blushing, love-sick fool. 

“Hi.” is all you can say. He says it back; you can see how humorous he finds this and how his simple touches seem to melt your brain away. 

You bring your hand up to his, where he working on your shoulder. “You just got home from work; I should be loving on you.” You say while bringing his hand to your mouth for a sweet kiss. 

He pulls his hand away, “Nonsense.” He says as he returns it back to your shoulder to continue your massage. “I live to love you.”

You love Hannibal, and you have no doubt your feelings are reciprocated, but its unusual for him to be this touchy. 

“I feel like you have bad news and you’re buttering me up.” You joke. You can't help but swoon as you hear his chuckle from above. 

“No bad news.” He says, “We’ve both been suffocated by our work lately and for the moment we aren't, and I feel it would be pitiful to waste it.” He explains. 

Your smile grows larger at his words, “Take off your blazer.” You tell him. You hear him laugh once more as he shrugs it off. 

You immediately understand how words come off. “No, not like that; I’m sure you’re baking in that. I’m just enjoying being here with you. I don’t need anything more.” Your a tad embarrassed by how forward you accidentally sounded, though he didn’t seem to mind. 

He places his blazer down somewhere out of sight. When he returns, his hand lands on your scalp where he gently drags his nails along it. “Just because you don’t need something more doesn’t mean you don’t want it.” 

You rotate your head back once more to look at him. You remember a few moments ago how soft his gaze was. Now it’s much more hungry. 

“I didn’t want to be greedy.” You whisper. There's no need for your quiet tone; Hannibal is the only other soul near you. Yet, just in case you stay hush. The words are meant for him. Yourself—your being—is all for him. 

“You’re too sweet.” His hand falls down farther. He’s slow with his movement, teasing you. His hand lies on your chest, above your heart; you know he’s revelling in the past pace of it—physical proof of your need for him. 

“Be greedy; you deserve it. Your always so good.” His hand  shifts to encompass your breast. He has a firm grip, but nothing to ensue pleasure; he’s waiting for your response. 

His simple words make your mind turn to putty. His face is next to yours—you can sense it. You feel his lips on your cheek—a gentle, kind kiss.  

“That's what I want. I want to be good for you.” It was the correct answer to assume as his hand slides beneath your swim top. 

You utter his name as he kneads your chest. You feel him exhale on your shoulder before biting into while pinching your nipple. His other hand, that’s not busy, starts to remove your top. 

Hannibal's fingers work deftly, sliding your swim top completely off and casting it aside. You feel the warmth of his body leave as he comes to kneel in front of you. Being able to fully see him for the first time since he’s come home, you drink in the sight of him. His own eyes are dark with desire as he takes in the sight of you. 

He kneels in front of you and leans his head against your knee. Its not that you don’t appreciate it, but it’s rare that he’s so indiscreet about his wants. He’s the most cryptic man you’ve ever met—dangerous too. And yet, he’s kneeling before you, looking at you like you’re what makes the world spin. 

He kisses your knee before sliding his hands up your outer thighs and pulling your bottoms down. Once removed and places aside, Hannibal grabs your hand thats laying lip beside you and takes it into your own, clasping your fingers in between yours to hold hand. 

His gaze stays on you, his eyes looking at you with desire and devotion as he gently prys his legs apart with his hand. 

“Hannibal.” You breath, your voice a mix of need and plea. 

He smiles, a sensual curve of his lips that sends a shiver through you, "I want to make you feel everything," he says softly, his breath warm against your skin. "Every touch, every kiss. Let me worship you."

With that, he lowers his head and leans in, his mouth immediately on your most intimate spot which he handles with such precision. His tongue is skilled, flicking and swirling around your clit in a manner that hitches your breath. 

“Fuck.” You swear while he uses his lips and teeth on you, alternating between gentle suction and soft nips.

You feel like he’s eating you alive. 

Your hands grip the soild arms of the chair, head thrown back as he continues his ministrations. You can feel the internal pressure build, the delicious tension coiling tighter and tighter inside you. His one hand presses down on your lower stomach to keep you still, holding you steady as he works you with his mouth. 

“So good.” He lowly hums into you, the vibration from his voice adding to your pleasure. He quickens his pace, moving to a faster rhythm as he removes his hand from yours and probes it around your leaking hole. 

“Please.” You gasp, and that’s all it takes for him to insert his digit inside you. He slowly drags it along your walls, only harshly hitting your sweet spot when you’ve been quiet for a moment. 

You feel yourself getting closer and closer as he sucks and licks; your words become unintelligible and are just as loud as your moans until suddenly, Hannibal pulls away. 

You watch him breathless as he removes both of his hands from you and brings them towards his belt to remove it. You both stare at each other as he unbuttons his trousers and lowers them slightly, just enough to remove himself.

His cock springs free, hard and dripping. He doesn't say a word as he lowers himself down and halts your legs over his shoulders while he dives into your core again. One hand he brings up to your pussy where he pushes two fingers in, moving them fast as his other hand wraps around his shaft. 

His movements are synchronized, moving both his hands at the same time, at the same speed, matching the rhythm. His gaze never leaves yours; the intensity of his glazed over eyes boring into your soul only nears you to your orgasm. 

The sight of him pleasuring himself while his tongue acts on your sensitive core is almost to much to bear. Every flick of his tongue, every movement of his hand causes your eyes to roll back into your skull. 

Hannibals moans reverberate against you, only making you melt more and more. His pace quickens, both on you and himself. As you look at him once again, you can see the strain in his muscles as he gets closer to his own relief. 

You reach down, threading your fingers between his hair and tug, urging him on. “Please Hannibal.” You whine, “Want you to cum.”

He groans at that. “So sweet, always so good for me.” 

His strokes become more frantic, his tongue more insistent. The sight of him on the edge, the feel of his relentless movements on your sensitive clit pushes you towards your climax. 

You feel your body arch towards him as your mind falls blank. The only thing in the world being Hannibal’s continued movements, his tongue on you and his fingers abusing your insides, drawing out your pleasure. 

With a gutteral groan, Hannibal finds his release. His warm cum spilling over his hand, making a mess on the ground below him. 

He collapses onto you, his head leaning against your thigh for a moment before he tucks himself back into his pants and rises. He presses soft kisses on your forehead, your cheeks, your lips, murmuring words of love and praise.

“You’re perfect.” You say quietly against his lips. 

He grins, his canines poking out and revealing themselves. “I could devour you forever.”

[tojirights]

tags: 18+ SMUT, MDNI, drug use, unprotected sex, creampie, choking, casual hookup

toji had been your dealer consistently for quite a while now, and you were well aware of his reputation. you always did your best to not go visit him alone, knowing damn well you'd let him persuade you into falling into bed with him.

but you were insanely bored and had the weekend off so you were in need of some more bud. unfortunately, everyone and their mother seemed to be busy so you suck it up and plan to meet with toji alone. when you pull up to his door, which you also knew was a bad idea, he opens the door with a smirk. “hey sweet thing.” he speaks, already making you feel weak in the knees. “by yourself tonight?” toji raises an eyebrow, seeing just you and your purse. with a sigh, you nod. "yeah everyone bailed on me this weekend. just me, some takeout and shitty movies." you say with a small laugh.

the way toji's eyes scan your body makes a pit form in your stomach. he clicks his tongue and shakes his head. "mh, can't let that happen. come in, why dontcha?" he steps aside, gesturing for you to enter. you hesistate, pulling your lip between your teeth. "i uhh... i shouldn't. not really looking to end up on the news tonight." you tease, watching as toji's eyes falter before he laughs. "i like you, kid. c'mon, i got some bud rolled and ready. on me tonight."

free weed? now you may be dumb but you're not an idiot.

against your better judgement, you accept his invite in. his place was... cleaner than expected... but the smell of the freshly ground weed hit your nose immediately and you let yourself relax. what's the worst that could happen, huh? toji wouldn't kill you or anything, right?

right?

sitting down on his rather comfortable couch, you look at the rolling tray with three blunts ready to be smoked. "as my guest, you have first dibs." toji says, placing himself next to you on the cushion. there's enough space where you aren't feeling suffocated by his presence, but you're fully aware of his body heat.

with a shaky hand, you make your choice and make no hesitation to spark up. your nerves start to settle after a few minutes, smoke flowing around you after your first hit. toji watches diligently, a smirk growing on his face as he watches your muscles stop tensing. "good shit huh?" he asks, taking his first hit. you sit back with your eyes closed, taking in the effects.

you supress a cough as the second hit burns your throat, and that shit hurt but you won't let toji think you can't take a hit so you do your best to suck up the pain. "fuck." you cough, unable to hold it and toji just chuckles. you didn't even see him light up the other joint, but he's already somehow burned through more than you. as the pain resides, you're overwhelmed with the euphoric feeling that you've come to rely on.

toji's still respecting your space, but it somehow feels like the room has shrunk and all you can think about is how close his knee is to yours. your body heat starts to spike, a telltale sign of arousal starting to burn in your gut and you beg it not to show. you're no stranger to bud putting you in the mood, but now is not the time.

"holdin' up alright doll?" toji hums, breaking you from your trance. "h-hm? oh yeah." you fumble your words as you turn to face him. your brain chemisty must be fucked, because the moment your eyes meet his, your self restraint all but snaps. "fuck... toji, i-i..." you sound like an idiot, and your cheeks burn with embarrassment. you try to hide it with an awkward laugh, but it gets lost in your throat when toji's hand rests on your cheek and captures your lips in his.

you would like to say you pulled away and slapped him right across the face, but you instead immediately crawl into his lap. strong hands wrap around your waist to grip the fat of your ass, earning a groan from toji. "y'been dreamin' of this, haven't you baby girl?" toji uses his grip to basically force you to grind on his quickly hardening cock, making you whimper against his lips.

'never fuck your dealer'

your number one rule is quickly disappearing as your hands desperately tug at the hem of toji's shirt, the sudden need to see him unclothed, taking over your senses. he does the same to you, removing your top and expertly unhooking your bra from behind your back. "you clean?" toji pants between kisses, lifting his hips so he can free his cock. you nod, doing the same just a little clumsier. "and on the pill." your response almost makes toji laugh, but he can't help but to find those simple little words so sexy.

there wasn't much more hesitation after you both cleared eachother, your leggings barely making it off your ankles before you feel the head of toji's cock slipping into your needy pussy. you brace for the push in, knowing damn well that toji's cock is bigger than any you've taken in the past. you whine with every hard inch of cock that spreads you open, hearing the squelching sound your pussy only makes after months of not getting fucked properly.

"fuckin' hell kid..." toji groans as his cock forces its way in, all the way until your ass hits his thighs. you're shaking as you try to accommodate not only the length, but the girth of toji's cock. reaching behind you, you grab the last joint off the table and light up, taking as big of an inhale as you can. before you can exhale, toji's grabbing your jaw and pulling your face to his so that you have no choice but to blow the smoke right into his mouth.

you pause now, sitting in toji's lap with his cock pressing snugly against your cervix. it's almost too much, your head spinning as the weed takes over your senses once more. toji takes the still lit joint and takes his own hit before doing the same and blowing it down your throat this time.

and when toji senses your hesitation to keep moving on his cock, he doesn't waste another moment in reaching around to grab a handful of ass, slowly bouncing you up and down on his shaft. "w-wait toji-" you gasp, hands on his chest to brace yourself but toji only gives you a second to breathe before he's lifting you higher and fucking up into you with a harsh pace.

"see? y'didn't need me to wait, sweetheart." toji coos, his grip tightening to keep you lifted so his cock meets no resistance. "your pussy was made for taking cock." he grunts, taking the still burning joint from your hands to blow more smoke in your face. your thighs shake as you keep yourself balanced, each deep stroke of his cock has you seeing stars as intoxication takes over. every nerve in your body screams with pleasure as toji fucks into you relentlessly.

"o-oh fuck toji." you whine, eyes screwed shut as the coil in your gut threatens to snap at any moment. toji's quick to flip your position, flinging you onto your back as he now looms on top of you. "wanna feel y'cum on my cock." he breathes in your ear, hitching one of your legs up around his waist. "s-so close." you mewl, back arching off the leather couch as toji's cock hits you just right. your cunt clenches around his length, waves of pleasure just about to crash over you and-

your eyes widen as toji's hand wraps around your throat, just enough pressure to make your head dizzier than it already was. "ooh yes that's a pretty baby." toji moans, hips stuttering as his own orgasm quickly approaches. you gasp for air as toji's hand tightens just a bit, and that's enough to push you over the edge. your legs spasm as you cunt squeezes toji's cock. wave after wave crashes into you, and toji doesn't relent his brutal pace.

if anything, he quickens his thrusts. "good fuckin' girl." he sighs, letting your pussy milk the cum from his balls. as toji cums, you feel it fill you from within, so much that it starts to leak down his length and onto the couch as he pulls out. you try your best to hold it in, not make a mess on his furniture, but his seed slides right down your inner thigh and mixes with your own juices to make quite a mess.

"o-oh god i'm so sorry-" you're immediately embarrassed and try to pull your panties back on to stop it from leaking but toji pulls you onto his lap and reaches for the end of the blunt. you whine as you feel the sticky seed leaking onto toji's pants. "sorry?" he cocks a brow, hands finding their way back to your ass again. "the only thing you should be sorry for is that now i need to keep givin' you free weed." he says with a chuckle. "i keep good pussy well taken care of." he whispers in your ear, earning a shudder that runs down your spine.

fuck...

never sleep with your deal. unless maybe he's hot.

[manikas-whims]

how Xavier from Love and Deepspace will react when he finds out you're on your period..

Xavier realizes its the first time you haven't arrived at work on time. It concerns him deeply and he decides to call you on the phone.

You pick up the phone from the nightstand, receive the call and speak groggily due to the ache in your limbs.

“Xa..vier? What is it?”

On the other end, his eyes narrow in concern. “You don’t sound alright.”

“Ohhh its just..my stomach and thighs ache.. especially thighs..” Your eyes are watery as you speak. All this ache is making it harder for you to even have a simple phone conversation.

“But I'm okay..its just that time of the month, you know!” You attempt to make your best imitation of a chuckle to ensure everything is good.

Yet the line has already been disconnected.

At the workspace, Jenna watches Xavier already pulling on his white leather jacket and running out of the building.

[minutes later]

You hear your phone buzz again. Without even bothering to check the caller ID, you answer it with slight annoyance. “Who’s speaking!?”

The voice on the other end is familiar and calm as ever. Not reacting negatively to your words, Xavier says. “It’s me. I'm here at your place. Do you think you can open the door?”

You know he's only trying to be kind but you grumble anyways. You can't help it. “Xavier I’m not that weak! No girl is!”

You don't bother changing clothes and remain in your oversized shirt as it's more comfortable that way. And with little difficulty and a lot of ache in your body, you open the door to prove your point, staring up at him with your weary eyes.

He simply shuts the door as he walks in and hands you a package. “I bought some pads, and heat packs for your belly. Just in case you needed extra.”

You blink slowly, all the rage ignited by your period slowly fading in the face of his honesty.

“Come on, ” He beckons, heading upstairs towards your bedroom. “Or would you prefer I carry you?”

Mortified at the idea of being treated like a little girl, you stomp after him back to your room.

There, he guides you to lay down and sits at the edge of the bed, by your legs.

“Rest. I’ll be here for you. Always.”

Usually you would've tried teasing him but you don't wanna strain your body by speaking anymore. So you simply give in to the tempting softness of the mattress and close your eyes.

A moment later, you feel something glide along your leg, all the way up to your thigh before gently yet firmly grasping it.

Your face heats up, flushing a light shade of pink as you realize they're fingers. The same long fingers which you've seen Xavier wrap around his sword during your missions together.

Now for some reason, those very same fingers are holding your thigh. You feel the muscles in your leg tensing. So does he, and looks at you.

“Xavier you— what are you doing?” You squeak out, a hand over your eyes cause its just too embarrassing to look directly at him.

His hand doesn't even budge. “I’ve heard that during menses, women's thighs ache a lot. I was just trying to give yours’ a massage.”

Then he raises a brow, a lopsided smile curving upon his lips. “What did you think I was up to?”

“Ehhh!!” You shake your head, far more embarrassed now (if that was even possible).

“Nothing! I was just shocked when you suddenly touched me.”

He nods in understanding. “Pardon me for not asking permission before touching you.”

Now you shake your head even more, the aching muscles completely forgotten due to how embarrassed you feel for even daring to imagine something naughty at such a time.

“It's okay.” You mumble softly. “And I’m sorry for getting mad at you.”

He responds with a proper smile.

Then, his fingers begin pressing into your thigh, gently massaging along the entire leg.

“Now rest.” He commands and you close your eyes for there's no reason to deny his aid. You feel the tense muscles in your legs gradually relaxing, his care lulling you into a state of slumber.

And just as you feel sleep blessing your form, you mumble. “Xavier?”

“Mm?” He replies.

“Thanks for this. And for coming to see me.”

“No problem.”

Its been a while since I wrote any Character x Reader HCs so please bear with my errors. i love feedback so don't hesitate!

AND THANK YOU FOR READING ♡

Rafayel and Zayne version coming soon!

» MASTERLIST «

[anjee0]

Old friends

Female!reader x 2000's Eminem. (Feel free to put in your own oc insert as well)

Description - Y/n decides to have a little get together at her house where she gets to spark interests again with her old friend that she hasn't seen since high school.

Warnings - Explicit language, drinking, vomiting, pill or tablet taking

Requested by @heyitstial

Y/n adjusted the plant pot on the coffee table for the 100th time making sure it looked “perfect”. One of her good friends Dre was coming over with a friend of his and she wanted to make sure that her apartment was spick and span. Dre hadn't told Y/n who his friend was and whenever she asked he'd just respond with: “It's a surprise!”

Y/n sat on the sofa and patiently waited for Dre and his friend to show up. Moments later, the doorbell rang as its playful tune rippled throughout the house. Y/n immediately got up and dusted her jeans off before opening the door.

She was immediately met by Dre smiling at her widely with his arms stretched for a hug. Y/n hugged him as he felt his arms around her waist, engulfing her in a warm hug.

When Y/n pulled away she couldn't help but smile. “I've missed you. I haven't seen you in ages.” She said gleefully.

“For real. And speaking of people you haven't seen in ages…” Dre stepped to the side to reveal the Marshall Mathers standing right by Y/n's door.

“Holy crap! Marshall!” Y/n exclaimed as she hugged her old friend.

Her and Marshall were best friends with each other back in high school. They were inseparable and literally attached to the hip. After Marshall had dropped out of high school, they stopped seeing each as often. Then eventually along the way, they lost communication completely and hadn't heard from each other in a few years.

Marshall looked completely different from what Y/n could remember of him. His fluffy brown hair had been replaced with a bleached buzz cut and his teeth looked less crooked. He had small hoop earrings and definitely developed more muscles as well. He looked somewhat… cute.

“How do you guys know each other?” Y/n asked.

“I'm helping Marshall out with his new album. And while we were in the studio the other week, I told him how I was gonna visit you. He said you sounded familiar so I showed him that picture of us when we went to New York and he recognised you. So I decided to surprise you.” Dre replied.

“Wow, that is amazing.” Y/n said.

“Small world, huh?” Marshall said.

“Well, come in, come in.” Y/n said, stepping aside so they had space go inside.

Dre and Marshall stepped in and took off their shoes as they looked around at the living room. They observed in awe at how beautiful and well organised the place looked.

“Damn girl. This is great. How'd you get this?” Dre asked.

“Saved up enough money.” Y/n responded. “Uh, sit down.” She chuckled awkwardly. She wasn't really used to guests coming over to her house.

Dre and Marshall sat down on the sofa opposite to the seat Y/n was sitting in. They made themselves comfortable and leaned into the softness of the cosy sofa.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” Y/n asked.

“Hey, uh. Do you ever have people over here?” Dre asked, forgetting Y/n's question.

“Oh, uh no. You guys are actually my first guests here.” Y/n responded.

“Hey how about we invite a friend over and you invite a few of your friends over and we have a small get together? This seems like the perfect place for it.”

Y/n really wanted to say no, she wasn't the biggest party person out there. With work always being her top priority, she never really had time to sit down and relax or to go out with her friends. But being the people pleaser she was, she agreed. At least she'd have some of her friends over too.

“Who are you gonna get?” Marshall asked.

“I'll call Proof. I'll tell him to get drinks as well.” Dre responded. He looked over to Y/n. “Do you have a telephone?” He asked.

Pointed over to a small rounded table where a red telephone was placed. “Right over there.”

Dre thanked her before going over to call Proof. In the meantime, Y/n tried to make conversation with her old friend.

“So, how have you been?” Y/n asked.

“I'm good. I've got a kid now.” Marshall replied.

“Oh, that's amazing.” 

“Yeah.. her name's Hailie. She's 4 right now.”

“I bet she's adorable.”

“Oh yeah, she is the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

“Is the mother in the picture?” As soon as those words left Y/n's mouth she wished she could take it back. Sure, her and Marshall were great friends but she hadn't seen him ages, she didn't have to pry around in his business. “Sorry, that was a personal question. I shouldn't have asked that.”

“Hey, don't sweat it. It's you asking so I don't mind. But uh, yeah. The mother’s Kim.” Marshall replied.

“Kim? Like Kim from high school?”

“Yeah. We're… married now.”

“Oh…”

“You sound surprised.”

“Well, you guys were pretty on and off in high school.”

“Yeah, no I get that. Actually, Kim found out she was pregnant a few weeks after we broke up. We got married as soon as we could.”

“Oh, right.”

“Yeah, but uh, it's not the best marriage. We're always arguing and fighting over dumb shit. We've resorted to an open relationship now.”

“What do you mean by open relationship?”

“Well, we're both allowing each other to date other people since we don't really have feelings for each other anymore. At this point, we're just staying together for Hailie.”

“Oh, I think I get it. So are you dating anyone?”

“Nope. Sort of wanna focus on my new album.”

“Oh yeah. How's that coming along?”

“I think it's going great.”

“I'd love to listen to it once it's released.”

“I'll send you a copy.” He chuckled.

“I like the new look by the way.” Y/n smirked as she looked at his bright bleached hair.

“Oh yeah. Thanks. It's for my persona, Slim Shady.”

“Alright, I called Proof. He's coming over with drinks. Y/n, you wanna call your friends?” Dre asked as he hung up the phone.

“Yeah, sure.”

As Dre went to sit back down, Marshall, Y/n got up to call her friends. She picked up the phone and dialled her friend, Mikayla's number. It rang for a few seconds before she picked up.

“Hi there, Mikayla speaking!” She greeted Y/n in her usual cheery tone.

Y/n smiled hearing her friend’s happy voice. “Hey girl, it's me Y/n.”

“Hey, what's up?”

“So I'm having a little get together with a few friends. Wanna come over?”

“Ooh, who's there?”

“A few guys.”

“Are they cute?” 

“Yeah.”

“Fun! I'll dress extra well. What are you wearing?”

“Just a pair of jeans and a top.” Y/n replied as she looked down at her casual outfit.

“You're wearing that?”

“Yeah I know. Should I change?”

“Yes! Wear something sexy.”

Y/n could just feel Mikayla's wide smirk through the phone. “Yeah, but I don't know what to wear though.”

“Hey, how about that denim mini skirt I got you for your birthday and that cute tank top that you got from that Christmas sale?”

“That's great! I will wear that. Thank you.”

“Well, I am the fashionista friend.”

Y/n chuckled at her friend's joke. “Oh, and while I get ready, can you call Abi and let her know too?”

“Of course. I'll see you then. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Y/n hung up the phone and turned to Dre and Marshall. “Two of my friends are coming over. I'm just gonna quickly change.” 

Dre and Marshall nodded as you entered your room and locked the door to get changed. In addition to the mini skirt and tank top, she wore a black push up bra too. The tank top was a bit see through but that didn't mind her. Y/n took one last look at herself in the mirror before coming out of her room. 

“Looking good, Y/n.” Dre said.

“Thank you. I'm just gonna clean up the kitchen really quickly.” 

What she didn't realise was Marshall absolutely stunned at how beautiful she looked. He found her cute back in high school and couldn't help but notice how much more pretty she looked since all those years ago. The new pair of clothes she was wearing fit her perfectly well. The mini skirt made her legs look elegant and the bra highlighted her breasts perfectly. And to top it off, the tank top she was wearing bought the whole look together to make it all the better.

As soon as she stepped foot in the kitchen and closed the door, Dre immediately turned to Marshall.

“You like her, don't you?” Dre asked with a dumb smile on his face.

“As a friend? Yeah.” Marshall replied.

Dre slapped the back of his head and tsked. “Man, not like that. You're into her.”

“No I'm not, we're just friends.”

“Really, cause you were taking a good long look at her. As your face is red as a tomato.”

“It's just hot in here.”

“Man, stop playing with me.”

A few seconds later, the doorbell rang and Y/n immediately left the kitchen to open it. She was met by her friends Mikayla and Abi who immediately engulfed her in a friendly hug.

“You look cute!” Abi said.

“So do you!” Y/n replied. “You look cute too Mikayla, come in.”

Mikayla and Abi stepped in and immediately jumped onto the empty sofa. They came over often so they treated the place like their second home.

“Hey there, girls. Y’all look great.” Dre said.

“Say, you look awfully familiar.” Mikayla said.

“Well, I am Dr. Dre.”

“You are?” Abi exclaimed.

“The one and only.” He replied with a smile.

“Is he lying?” Mikayla asked Y/n.

“Not at all.” She replied.

“You never bothered to tell us?” Abi said.

“Yeah, we I didn't think you'd believe me.” Y/n said, sitting with her friends on the sofa.

“Dude, my little brother, Mike, is so obsessed with you.” Mikayla said.

“Oh really? Should I autograph something for him?” Dre asked.

“He wouldn't believe me even if I had an autograph.”

“I have a polaroid camera. I can take a picture of you both and Dre can sign it.” Y/n offered.

“That sounds great.” Dre said.

Y/n went to get her polaroid camera from her room and swiftly came back. Marshall got off the sofa to let Mikayla sit down next to Dre. He sat down next to Y/n as their shoulders slowly brushed.

Y/n bought the camera up to her eye, her finger hovering over the capture button.

“Alright, ready?”

“Ready!” Dre and Mikayla and Abi said I'm unison.

Y/n hit the capture button as a bright flash came from the camera followed by shutter sound. And at that same moment, Proof burst into the house with 3 six packs of beer.

“What's on you guys!” He cheered as he held the pack up and stuck his tongue out.

Marshall chuckled at Proof's energetic greeting. 

“Man, what took you so long?” Dre asked.

“Cashier lady was being a bitch. She thought my ID was fake.” Proof said as he sat down next to Dre. “What's up, Marsh?” Proof asked as he dabbed him up.

The polaroid developed and Y/n chuckled at it. Dre and Mikayla were smiling on the couch and in the background was Proof holding up the 6 packs with an energetic expression on his face. She handed it over to Dre and Mikayla who laughed at the sight of it.

“I'll sign my name right over your face.” Dre said teasingly at Proof.

“Man, fuck you.” Proof chuckled.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Dre said. “I bought a cassette with the tracks Marshall's done so far for his album.” Dre reached out in the pocket of his hoodie and pulled a cassette out.

“Why did you bring that?” Marshall asked as he tried to snatch it off.

“What? Let them listen, I think it's great man and you know it too. You got a cassette radio?” He asked Y/n.

“Yup.” Y/n reached under the TV stand where a cassette radio was. She took it out and placed it on the coffee table.

Dre put the cassette in and hit play. A few moments later, the first track started playing. It started off with a catchy beat followed by Marshall's voice. His voice easily flowed through the beat and his lyrics felt immaculate. Marshall groaned as he sat back on the sofa.

“I think it's pretty good.” Y/n said as she turned her head to look at Marshall.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“I'm being serious, Marsh.” She playfully pushed his knee.

Marshall jokingly flipped her off to which she happily returned the favour as old high school memories started flooding back to her.

As the music played through the background, everyone introduced each other and talked for a while. Proof eventually opened one of the 6 packs and passed everyone a beer.

“What is this?” Abi asked as she inspected the can.

“Beer, duh. Drink up!” Proof responded.

“I very much prefer Y/n's blue cocktail.” Abi said as she leaned her head on her friend's shoulder.

“It's Y/n's best cocktail. She works at a bar.” Mikayla said.

“What bar you work at?” Proof asked.

“Pink Pristine.” Y/n responded.

“Holy shit, you work at Pink Pristine?” Marshall said as he sat up.

“Yeah, I've been there for a while.”

“Ain't that the bar where all the rich people go?” Proof asked.

“Yeah, that's the one.”

“No wonder you got such a nice house.” Marshall aside.

“We love Y/n's blue cocktail. She always makes it for us.” Mikayla said.

“Blue cocktail?” Dre asked.

“I haven't found a good name for it.”

“Can you please make us some?” Abi asked. She looked up at Y/n with a pouty expression and wide eyes.

“I don't have all the ingredients for it, sorry.” Y/n said.

Mikayla and Abi both groaned in disappointment.

“Alright then, drink up!” Proof said.

Everyone cracked open their beer bottles and said cheers before drinking up. Y/n wasn't the biggest fan of beer; the bitter taste made her throat dry and left a terrible scent in her mouth.

“Anyone wanna try chugging the beer against me?” Proof asked.

“What?” Abi said in confusion.

“Me and another person both chug their beers and see who lasts the longest without stopping.” He explained. “Anyone up? Marshall?” Proof looked at him with a sly expression.

“Nah, man. I threw up like crazy last time.” Marshall said.

Proof looked around at everyone else, hoping for an answer. But he was only met with a thick silence. He was about to give up until Y/n spoke up.

“I'll do it.” She said, feeling determined.

“Alright then! Let's go! First to chug 3 wins.”

“Are you sure?” Mikayla said.

“I'll be fine.” Y/n responded.

Proof and Y/n both got ready to chug down their beers as Dre started the countdown. He did it slowly, which built up a lot of tension and a suspenseful manner.

“3, 2, 1… Go!” Dre said.

Y/n immediately started chugging down her drink as fast as she could. The bitter taste of the alcohol made her throat dry. However, she still continued to chug the drink down like it was nothing. She could hear everyone else cheering and whooping for them, encouraging them to go faster.

Y/n and Proof had finished their first can at around the same time and they were already onto the next one. She chugged that one down, already feeling the struggle to keep up. Proof was easily chugging it down like it was water meanwhile Y/n was scrunching her nose up at the scent.

When it got to the third can, Y/n could feel some of the beer trickling down her chin and down her neck. She decided she couldn't take it anymore and that she'd let Proof take the win. Y/n took the half empty cab off her lips, finally giving up, only for her to accidentally spill the rest of the beer onto her shirt and skirt.

The loud and supportive cheering was replaced by gasps. The beer had only made her shirt more see through, revealing her bra underneath more. She quickly got up to go change as her friends followed behind her.

“Yo, are you okay?” Proof asked.

“I'm fine!” Y/n called back before entering her bedroom.

“Did you guys see Marshall's face?” Mikayla asked quietly as soon as Y/n shut the door.

“No, why?” Y/n responded.

“He went all red and couldn't take his eyes off you.” Mikayla explained.

“He likes you!” Abi exclaimed.

“He doesn't. We're just old friends.” Y/n said.

“Old friends?” Mikayla asked.

“Yeah, we were best friends in high school.” 

“Did you guys ever date?” Abi asked.

“No.. but we kissed once.” 

“You did?!” Abi and Mikayla exclaimed at the same time.

“Shhh! But yes, we did. It was once. Then we never talked about it.” 

Y/n changed her shirt and bra out for something more comfortable. She decided to wear a sports bra and an old baggy shirt on top. 

When they came out of the room, Y/n could sense some sort of tension in the living room. Marshall's face was blushing red as a a tomato. He looked more embarrassed than flustered.

“Everything okay?” Y/n asked as she placed her hand on Marshall's shoulder.

“Yeah everything's fine.” He replied.

“Hey should I order pizza?” Y/n asked.

“Oh, yeah that's good. Let's do that.” Dre said.

Y/n called the pizza place nearby and placed an order for a large pepperoni pizza and for a large meat feast pizza too.

“Are we even gonna finish all of this?” Y/n asked as she sat back down.

“Hey, me, Dre and Marshall can easily have a whole pizza for ourselves.” Proof reassured jokingly.

A few minutes passed and the pizza arrived. Everyone was starting so they were pumped to get their hands on a slice. They all reached in and took a bite, feeling at ease.

Y/n could feel her stomach churn as she ate the pizza. Perhaps pizza and 2 and half cans of beer weren't the best combination to have. She started to feel queasy so she decided to have a glass of water. Y/n could feel that uncomfortable feeling in her stomach slowly drifting away from her as she finished the water.

As minutes passed, everyone decided to sit on the couch and talk with each other for a while as music radio played. As the previous song faded, a new one started to play. It started off with a snappy beat and then followed by a female voice. It was the type of music you'd hear at a club or at a bar.

“Ooh! I love this song.” Abi said, smiling widely.

“I like this song too. Care to dance?” Proof asked smoothly as he offered his hand.

Abi instantly put her hand in his as the both stood up to dance. They both put their hands on each other and held each other close as they swayed to the music.

“Guys, join in!” Abi said.

“Yeah, get your asses off the couch.” Proof chimed in.

Dre and Mikayla gave each other a look before shrugging at each other and going off to dance. Y/n looked at Marshall with a sly smile.

“Care to dance?” She asked.

“Why not?” Marshall said.

They both got up to dance along with the others too. Marshall placed his hand on Y/n's waist as she placed her ls on the sides of his neck. They pulled each other closer and swayed to the music. Their foreheads touched as the tip of their noses came to contact too.

Y/n felt the space around her getting hot and stuffy. Her cheeks came to a bright pink colour from the heat as she felt beads of sweat trickling down the back of her neck. 

“Hey, you okay there?” Marshall asked.

“Just a bit hot.” Y/n replied.

“Do you wanna step outside?” 

“Yes please.”

With that decision, they went out to the back garden where they stood on the wood porch. The sky was dark and looked majestic with the twinkling stars and bright moon staring down on them.

“You know what this reminds me of?” Marshall asked.

“What?” Y/n asked curiously.

“When we snuck into that disco that the school was hosting cause we had to pay to go.”

Y/n gasped slightly as the memory started flooding back to her mind. “I remember! We danced for a bit, we got caught and stole snacks.”

“Yes!” Marshall chuckled. “And then we just kinda sat outside and watched the moon. And then we were talking and then…”

“We kissed.” Y/n said softly as she watched the grass rustle in the gentle wind.

“Yeah…”

“That was my first kiss actually.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Not at all.”

They both looked at each other for a moment before leaning in slightly. But in that moment, Y/n felt her stomach getting queasy again as it tied up in twists and turns. She could feel a weird itchy feeling coming from her throat.

Shit.

She covered her mouth and turned around, vomiting into the nearest plant pot. Well, there goes her aloe vera. Marshall immediately held her hair up and stroked her back gently. His touch was calming and made her feel more at ease.

“Hey, if you don't feel well, I'll tell everyone to go home okay?” Marshall said.

“Okay, could you do that please?” Y/n replied.

Marshall quickly informed everyone about Y/n to which they were immediately concerned, especially Mikayla and Abi.

“Is she okay?” Abi asked.

“We wanna see her.” Mikayla said.

“She's fine but she needs space. It's best if everyone leaves.” Marshall stated.

“You coming with us?” Dre asked.

“I'll stay here to help her clean up. I can call a cab afterwards. I'll be fine.” Marshall insisted.

“Alright, man. Call me when you get home.” Proof said.

And with that, everyone but Marshall left. He took her to the bathroom so she could clean herself up while he cleaned up. He threw away all the empty beer cans and put the leftover pizza in some tupperware to leave in the fridge. He then hoovered and disposed of the aloe vera plant.

“Thank you, Marshall.” Y/n said as she stood by the doorpost on the living room door.

“Yeah, of course. I'm gonna get a cab and leave. Goodnight.”

“Wait.” 

“Yeah?”

“It's 2 am. You can stay over, I think that's best.”

“No, it's fine. Don't worry. I don't wanna bother you.”

“You won't bother me Marshall. You're my friend. I have a guest bedroom. Feel free to stay there. I'll quickly clean it.”

“Hey, don't bother. It's fine.”

“Please…”

“Okay, I'll stay, but you don't have to clean the room. I just need to call Proof quickly and let him know.”

Y/n nodded and bid him goodnight before going over to her bedroom to take a fully deserved sleep. After Marshall informed Proof, he also went to sleep on the guest bed and slowly drifted to a slumber.

In the middle of the night, Y/n woke up with the sudden urge to have a glass of water. Her mouth felt dry and she needed to quench her thirst. She laid in bed for a minute before finally getting up. She'd probably had to take a tablet too for her killer headache she was just starting to deal with.

She noticed that the light in the kitchen was on, Marshall was probably in there. When she opened the door, she was met with Marshall turning on the tap and getting himself some water.

“Hey.” Y/n said gently, not wanting to startle him.

“Oh hey.” He replied as looked up at her with a soft smile. “Also craving some water?”

“Yup. And something for my killer headache.”

She rummaged through her cupboards and found ibuprofen. She took some cold water, immediately satisfying the dry feeling in her mouth.

“Listen, about earlier outside. I'm sorry-” Y/n started.

“Don't be sorry.”

Before she could say anything else, he sealed her lips with a gentle kiss. The gentleness of kiss soon became replaced with the feeling of desire and having to fulfil a desperate need.

“Do you wanna sleep with me tonight?” Y/n offered.

“Sure.”

Moments later, Y/n found herself laying head against Marshall's chest and playing with the fabric of his shirt on her bed.

“I'm sorry for losing contact with you over the years.” Y/n apologised.

“It's my fault too.” Marshall insisted.

“Why don't we try giving this a chance?” 

“I like the sound of that.”

Marshall kissed her head before they both fell asleep in each other's embrace.

[mintmatcha]

cw: a weird vent piece lol, suicide mention, no quirks au, mentally ill reader

You always fuck with your shirt on. You'd wear more, if you could, but you haven't figured out how to do it with your pants on yet.

You pull the sheets over your sweat chilled legs and hope he didn't notice the spots you missed shaving. If he did, Natsuo doesn't seem to mind. His arm is tucked under your head, muscle fibers occasionally twitching underneath you and turning the soft mass dense.

Sometimes, Natsuo keeps his shirt on too. Neither of you have ever asked the other about it; there's a mutual understanding when a hand is stopped.

"Do you work tonight?" he asks.

You shake your head as his body relaxes deeper into the mattress.

"I'm gonna do laundry if you want to throw your stuff in," he mumbles, "I'll get you junk to sleep in."

The medical textbooks he was studying are still on the floor, flipped to random pages of different cycles and tissues, abandoned in exchange for you. If Natsuo fails his midterms, it'll be your fault. If he passes, he'll be leaving the city next semester for his hospital rotations.

Part of you wants him to fail. It's that dirty, evil part that no one else seems to have, the part you try to starve, but it keeps growing anyway. It nips at you whenever the room gets too quiet.

It's teeth are extra sharp today.

"You're so sweet." You speak into his skin, "I don't know how you're still single."

A sharp inhale is sucked through his teeth, cutting through his smile. Natsuo takes in all of your features and you know he's wondering why you're saying these things-- why you're purposefully bringing this up.

"Well, sweetie-" His tone is light, like he's avoiding stepping on glass, stepping on glass. With every word, he walks his fingers on your arm, spanning from elbow to shoulder, "I'm only single because you keep turning me down."

The overhead fan whizzes. The part you try to starve sinks its teeth into your chest.

"Natsuo, we've talked about this," you say, "I don't date."

You sit up and swing a leg over him, straddling his hips. A trail of white hair runs down his stomach and down under the sheets, disappearing where the two of you meet. He holds you by the hem of your tee, just tight enough to hold you in place.

"Would it be so bad?" he whispers.

"Here's what would happen, alright?" You brush your fingers through his sweat touched hair and it bounces right back into place the second you pull away. It makes you giggle a bit and he mirrors you, an unsure, foolish optimism in his eyes, "Let's just say I met this wonderful, beautiful boy and tricked-"

"Tricked?" he scoffs.

"Tricked him into loving me." You want to kiss him, but it feels cruel for both of you. Instead, you just cup his jaw in your hands and cradle him, letting the weight of him slump into your palms, "He'd treat me right and bring me home to meet his parents, 'cause he was raised right and, even though he's really smart, he'd think he's in love."

Fingers squeeze at your hips.

"But the second I left, his parents would tell him that he deserves someone prettier and smarter and, and, and better," you say, "And they'd be right."

“My mom’s nice," He drops your pretense with a whisper, ruining your not so careful charade. “She wouldn’t say that.”

He doesn’t mention his dad. There’s a silent sentence there. One that says, “But he might.” It’s hard to keep your brain from sticking to that point, from sticking your thumb into this metaphorical soft spot.

“I mean, she wouldn’t say it out loud, but she’d think it," you say, “She’d sit there and think ‘that girl's not good enough for my son' and she'd be right."

He scoff he lets out is uneasy, almost a songed laugh, more pained than annoyed. "My mom is nice."

This conversation is hurting him, but you can't stop yourself.

"And they'd tell you to break up with me, but you wouldn't listen to them, 'cause you're head strong like that. You'd probably date me in spite of them for while," you ramble, "But then you'd go away and you'd meet some pretty, normal girl and you'd realize they were right. They were always right. I was right."

The overhead fan whizzes.

"So, it's better if I just don't date at all,"

Natsuo's grip dissolves and you think you see it then - the moment whatever is between you dies. A hollowness passes over his features, empty eyes and sucked cheeks, as he ducks his head down to rest his face against your chest. Chin against the soft of your tits, he seems farther away than ever.

You could gloat. You could cry. You're a self-fulfilling prophecy once again.

Natsuo sighs and his words slip so easily from him that you almost don't process what he's saying. "You're so sad. I wish you'd get help."

That catches you off guard. The control over this conversation is ripped away, your curtain drops, and you suddenly feel very, horribly seen.

"What?" You try to laugh it off, leaning back to escape the way he watches you.

"Sometimes I wake up and you're not here," he says, "And I worry that's the last time I'll ever see you."

You understand the implication.

"I'm not gonna kill myself." It might be the truth, you think.

"Yeah," His arms wrap around your waist again, snaking the air from your lungs, "Touya promised me that too."

Touya is only ever mentioned over too many beers and tears you're not allowed to remember the next morning. He was only 16, only a couple years older than Natsuo, but the ghosts still linger to this day, always tucked into the back of the room, stalking, haunting.

Natsuo comes from money and fame. His apartment is paid for by his father. He's never had to work to afford food. At first, you resented him for that; you wanted that ease and safety his family afforded him.

But everything comes at a cost. Every unhappy family is unhappy in there own ways.

"I'm sorry that you keep loving things that break." That is the truth. You're just the end of a line of his mistakes, starting all the way at mom and dad and trailing through every girlfriend ever since.

"I do love you. And it's not despite the fact you're 'broken'," Natsuo takes your hand with a resounding firmness. It reminds you of that thing they say about golden retrievers; the smart ones can hold an egg in their jaws without shattering the shell. Natsuo holds you like he understands you in some deep, intrinsic way, "Or because of it or whatever."

He doesn't look away, those bright, wide eyes bluer than ever.

"I just like all your little pieces." He kisses your knuckles one by one, trailing from thumb to pinkie to thumb again.

The room is silent. The bad part of you is no longer begging to eat. Maybe it's full for now, but you know it's just out of focus, stalking in the dark, biding its time.

"You should study." You slip from him and reclaim your own space in the bed. After a long, simple pause, Natsuo gets up himself, collecting his boxers from the floor.

"Yeah," he says, "You're right."

The hurt you've caused is no longer comfortable to live in. Your mouth is dry, thirsty for a change you're not sure how to make. Recovery feels like a big leap-- loving and being loved feels every farther away.

All you can do is shuffle your feet against the sheets and take the tiniest step towards normalcy.

"Do you want to get brunch tomorrow before your classes?" you offer your olive branch, your silent promise, "I'll pay."

He weighs this, measuring it for sincerity, then smiles just wide enough your get a glimpse of teeth.

"Let me get you something to sleep in."

For now, it's enough.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Am I Acting Weird?

Walking home, I just can't shake the feeling that something is off, but I can't figure out what! I asked Coach about it before leaving practice, but he just laughed. He said I was weird not to appreciate the effort I've put into football lately.

He's right. I've been busting my ass, but that's exactly what I'm talking about!

I've never given a damn about improving my rank or even showing up to conditioning! I just wanted to hang out with my buds and mess around with the cheerleaders.

But now, it's like none of that matters! I've skipped the last three parties to bulk up at the gym! I haven't been able to drink anything other than protein shakes, and my meals are always loaded with meat. It's like I can't control myself anymore! Why can't I just take a night off and drink beers with the rest of the boys?

I let out a long groan of frustration and trudge upstairs. My younger sibling Max laying on the couch while the TV blares his favorite show.

Max is the weird one! He's like 18, and all he does is play videogames and sit around all day.

I quickly strip off my sweaty football uniform and toss it into the corner of my bedroom. My muscles are already tired and aching from yesterday's practice, so I can't imagine how sore I'll be feeling when I wake up for tomorrow's early morning workout; something I only recently started doing everyday.

Like every other night, I pull my usual at-home clothes on; a stiff white shirt, black apron, and bowtie. This outfit might seem weird, but it feels nice, especially when I tie everything up extra tight. Max showed me how. Sure, it's not comfortable at all, and I look like a waiter more than anything, but that doesn't bother me.

My little brother is annoying as hell, but he's usually right. Me and dad used to tease him all the time, but we've come around since then.

Now that I'm finally at home and suited up, I can feel my shoulders relax. Whatever was bothering me before can wait. I pull some shiny black shoes on, slip a pair of white gloves over my hands, and carefully step back downstairs. It's important that I make as little noise as possible when I'm home. I wouldn't want to disturb anybody.

"Hey, big bro," Max calls from the couch, "Your home."

"Yes, Max," I answer, taking my usual position next to the couch.

This is where I stand when I'm in the living room anymore. It's just where I feel most comfortable, and it's right next to a little cart of useful supplies. I grab a towel and sling it over my shoulder. It's always a good idea to have one on me when I'm at home. Never know when I'm going to need it.

"My shoes could use a polish while we chat," Max adds, flipping through the channels.

"You got it, Max."

See, the towel does come in handy. I quickly fetch a container of shoe polish on my little cart and kneel by his feet. I've been polishing Max's shoes for a few weeks now, so I've gotten pretty good at it. He doesn't really appreciate the art of it, but I guess it's just something that I'm into.

"How's football? You the best player yet?" Max asks nonchalantly from above.

"No, Max. I've gotten a lot bigger lately, but the quarterback is still a lot more muscular and skilled."

He rolls his eyes and adds, "Give it time I guess. You're going to keep at it until your a professional player like the ones on TV."

I stop buffing his sneaker for a second and glance up at him. His attention is now completely fixated on an NFL videogame.

"Max, that's just it," I admit, "Lately I've been working out and bulking up like I'm some pro-athlete, but I'm not. I don't think I even want to be! That life just seems so grueling."

Max pauses his game and looks down at me solemnly.

I avert my gaze and add, "It's just weird that lately I've put so much work into something I don't want."

"You think that's weird?" he dryly raises an eyebrow.

I just shake my head and turn my attention back to my brother's sneaker. It's going to need a lot more polish before it shines.

The door opens and our father arrives home.

"Hey, boy," he dismissively calls when he sees me on the floor. Then he notices my brother lounging on the couch.

"Max," he says with a bit more emphasis, dipping his head a little.

"Dad, I'm really hungry right now, so could you get a move on with dinner?" Max answers.

"Of course, Max."

Our father immediately drops his keys and briefcase and shuffles into the kitchen. I've always admired him. He played football in college too, so we've always bonded over sports.

But lately, he only seems interested in his work. I rarely see him because he always stays late and picks up night shifts at the office. It's done wonders for his career, so I guess that's good. He's been given a few raises recently for all the extra effort he's put in, but I can tell it's taking a bit of a toll on the guy.

"Big bro, just look at Dad," Max explains to me, "He doesn't complain about anything being weird, does he? He just keeps his mouth shut and goes to work. Be more like him."

I don't speak as I switch to shining his other sneaker. Max is probably right. If Dad can power through long hours in the office to bring home a decent salary, then I can surely shut up and dedicate myself to a career in football.

It doesn't take long for our father to return to the living room.

"The food is almost ready, but here are some drinks while you wait, Max," he says.

Our dad seems minorly annoyed by the starched clothing he has on, but that suit is his typical home outfit. It looks even more stiff and uncomfortable than my get up, but I guess he's willing to put up with it.

Max stands before I can finish at his feet and grabs a glass from our father.

"Whoops, here you can finish them," he says after a swig of wine, kicking the shoes off in my direction, "And then take care of the laundry in my room."

"Sure thing, Max," I answer, but he's already turned his attention to dad.

"Is your wallet in your briefcase?" he asks, "I'm taking a few friends out tonight."

"It is, Max, and the car keys are next to it. The car is low on gas. Should I take it to a station before you go out?"

"Yeah," Max adds between sips, "Take care of that while I eat."

"Of course, Max."

"Oh, and Dad."

"Yes, Max?"

"Start making double portions for big bro's meals. He needs to bulk up faster if he's going to usurp the current quarterback."

I pretend not to hear, and finish up my work with Max's shoes. Maybe my new focus on football hasn't been that strange after all. It's not really the life I thought I'd be pursuing, but it's kind of nice being bigger and more athletic than I used to be. It's not really weird if I think about it. Maybe I can even get a few more reps in after I finish Max's laundry.

I hope he has a good time out with his friends tonight. It's weird, but I don't really know what else I'd spend my time doing.

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Simon x gn!reader

Read the Modern Warfare: Ghost comics yesterday and they poked my brain in some spots. They inspired this, because yes Simon sexy; big man makes brain go brrr but what if Simon says no?

Warnings: heated make out session, not proofread and it's late so it sucks

Simon moans under you as you kiss him, the sound making your body ache with need. It echoes in your ribcage making your heart flutter and frantically beat against your ribs, trying to get to Simon.

Your bodies are pressed against each other and you already feel lightheaded when you haven't even taken your clothes off.

But Simon is shirtless and all that skin under your hands drives you insane while you're making out. Tongues lazily intertwining, rubbing together, creating that delicious friction that makes you pant.

Simons pupils are blown wide as he looks up at you on his lap. You can feel how affected he is by you as well and it increases your desire tenfold.

You think you'll go crazy if you don't get the clothes separating you two out of the way. Your entire body is calling out to the man under you and you need to do something about it before you lose your mind.

Slowly you move your hand over his pecs, dipping your head to follow that path with your lips and tongue, marking his skin while you're at it.

Simon makes a sound that's half a whimper, half a moan and it makes you bite down on his pec which in turn gets an actual whimper out of him.

You look up at him and he's thrown his head back, watching you through almost closed eyes, burning you with his desire.

His chest is heaving and his harsh pants of air are actually audible. You have never seen him so wrecked before and you can't wait to ruin him when he moans your name. And your hips twitch in response.

Th reaction only seems to fuel his desire more and he bites his lip trying to stifle the sounds he's making.

Your hand continues its path down his tummy towards his pants where your reward awaits. Your heart speeds up as you get to his waistband.

It's such a tiny moment you would have missed it if you were less aware of every single movement of Simon.

Just for a second he goes stiff and then relaxes again.

Your hand stills. Your eyes trail up from his crotch again to meet his eyes. There's a tightness around his mouth that doesn't sit well with you.

He's the picture of relaxation, but it's not real anymore. His eyes are wide open, you can see the muscles in his arms flex, even as he keeps them down, seemingly open and relaxed.

You sit back on his thighs, ceasing all other movement.

"Tell me, baby.", you gently encourage.

Simon shakily exhales, puts his hand over yours, that's still sitting just over his waistband and moves your hand back up to his chest.

You can feel his heart hammering under your palm and it doesn't feel like desire anymore. It feels like a hectic little animal being chased. It feels like anxiety and slight panic.

He stays quiet, not moving a muscle and you match him, gently stroking your thumb over his skin, scooting closer again, so you're not half bent over from where you tried to get to his zipper.

"I don't... I'm sorry, 'luv.", he whispers roughly and you smile. A sad smile but it's gentle and you can feel Simons heart slow down under your palm at your smile.

"It's okay. No need to apologize."

His other hand finds your neck and he draws you in until your foreheads touch and you can feel his shaky breath on your lips.

One of your hands mimics his, while the other one stays on his chest, his skin warm and scarred against yours.

Gently you squeeze the back of his neck. "We're okay." You whisper and you can feel him finally relax again.

You know there's so much he probably feels like saying but as he so often does he lets the silence speak for him.

Luckily you've gotten fluent in Simon's silence over the time.

"I don't care, baby. I only care about you being here with me. My needs can be taken care of in other ways. We don't need that to be close. We've got our own ways."

Instead of answering, he kisses you again and you arch your back so all of you is pressed to him.

It has nothing of the desperation of earlier even if the heat is still simmering deep in your belly.

It's all comfort and closeness now.

He cups your face, as if you're the most precious thing he's ever held and you smile into the kiss.

"How can you be so... so... good?", he asks. If you didn't know him as well as you did you would have missed the way his voice sounds slightly choked up.

"I love you.", is your simple answer and he shakes his head.

"I don't get it. Why are you not sick o' me? Why haven't ya found someone who can do normal shit."

You smile, peck his lips and try to pull back, which turns into him holding you close and deepening the kiss before you attempt to pull back again. He doesn't let you and you grin into the kiss. Finally he lets you go, both of you laughing quietly.

"I will never be sick of you. I don't need anything but you. And you are enough, exactly as you are, right now in this moment. You've always been enough."

You can see his eyes widen as your words hit him, his hands find your hips and hike you up a bit more and then he hides his face in your chest, his arms around you, chrushing you to him

If the way his fingers dig into your skin is slightly painful you don't comment on it. You bring your arms up and hold him just as tightly.