#anyways thought you might like to know if you’re reading this :D

[lyculuscaelus]

A Delicate Copy

(AU; a pretty old one-shot, finally got the time to upload it on tumblr)

Nobody greeted him “morning” this time.

He woke up on an unfamiliar beach. The sand felt different—coarser than the one he used to sit on in those last seven years. The air smelled misty, unlike the clear sky that used to embrace most parts of the island with her warm arms, a cycle lasting for seven years. He saw the trees growing in bloom, but they did not remind him of his homeland—for he didn’t find that forest anywhere, nor did he see his beloved Mount Neriton. There were only mists, mists that used to arise from the wine-dark sea, mists that used to hide the face of death where gods were lurking, mists that used to give way to the warmth of a cave, in the past seven years.

And that was when he finally realized he was lost. Again.

The tired mariner crumbled on the beach, and sobbed.

He didn’t check what his tears were made of, for he knew there was nothing but pain in them. Pain as found in the glimmering reflection, pain as found in himself. Twenty years of pain condensed into one single teardrop, and he held up his hands to wipe it from his face.

But he sobbed still.

He did not see the herd of sheep coming. He did not see the young man cloaked in a kingly air walking. He sobbed until he felt himself melting, and that was when he stopped, for his sorrow had brought him burning rage. Rage for an unjust promise.

“Where did the Phaeacians send me? What country have I come to this time?” he roared, clenching his fists. “Why did they leave me here—with all this treasure I cannot protect? Have those Phaeacians not promised me to send me home—to my homeland where I came into being? And now what foreign land is this? Those idiots…they did me wrong indeed. May Zeus, god of suppliants, grant them a punishment that is only too proper for them…but for now, let me just count these gifts, in case some of them happen to be missing.”

And so he counted. The tripods seemed untampered, and the cauldrons looked fine. Gold and silver, and all this splendid clothing—surprisingly, he found nothing missing. Then he rose to his feet, and again he wandered, on this unfamiliar beach, with a heart much-enduring he let out another wail of sorrow, another stream of tears.

And then, the young man came forward. A cloak across his shoulders, A spear in his hand—the tip seemed somewhat strange—the young shepherd stopped, and regarded him curiously.

“Friend,” he addressed the young shepherd quickly, wiping out his tears when his eyes were not coping. “You’re the first one I see here. Will you promise me no harm, if I greet you with open arms? For I’m entreating you, like I would a god, to save me, protect my goods, and keep me in good company. I’m begging you, as a friend on his knee. Now please tell me everything, so I can understand—what country have I come to? What people have I met? Is this a sunny isle, or a headland of the mainland reaching out to sea?”

“Stranger—are you a fool? Wait no, I don’t think you are, so you must be a traveler from a distant land,” the young man answered him, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “But I’m sure men from different places have all heard of this island—because of its fertility? Maybe. But it’s a rugged place not fit for herding horses. You can find crops and grapes here, though, but it’s not like they’re uncommon. So I suppose it’s because of its heroes—stranger, do you happen to know the great Argonaut Laërtes, or Odysseus the sacker of cities? This is where they come from—such a place well-known, for I’m sure even lands far as Troy would still recognize the name ‘Ithaca’.”

He twisted his head, searching for memories. Ithaca—a name he had whispered so many times, to the goddess waiting in her cave, to the king sitting on the Phaeacian throne, in the songs he had sung in his pleading. He felt his lips lifting as joy swarmed up in his chest, but something about this place seemed strange…it still felt foreign to him, for some reason.

So he answered carefully. “Ithaca—a famous name indeed. I’ve heard of it even in wide Crete, somewhere far across the sea. Ah, so I’m finally here in person, with all these goods of mine. But there is more that I left when I fled from my city, when a dear son of Idomeneus fell to my own hands, for that swift-footed Orsilochus wished to take away the spoils I had won at Troy, for which I had suffered so much already—in the devastating war and on the dangerous sea. We struck him when he was heading home—me and my companions, with my bronze-tipped spear I ended him. But then I ran off to a ship, paying some Phoenicians to get me to other lands—I’d hoped they would take me to either Pylos or Elis, but the winds did not heed our command. And then here I was, worn out by exhaustion, laid low by sleep. But when I woke up, I found them all gone—and now it’s just me, alone with all my goods, here on this foreign land, seeking help.”

The young man smiled, and replied with a hand reaching out to his left shoulder. “Surely, Odysseus, one’s cunningness must be so wily if he is to outwit you—even for a god.”

He felt a jerk in his heart. How would a young shepherd like him see through his disguise?

“Yes, I know who you are—that pair of eyes I have indeed seen and heard of,” the young man continued gleefully. “But come now, Odysseus, do you really think there will be a celebration party waiting for you here? No, you will find troubles in your home, and I fear even you cannot defeat them this time.”

“What trouble are we speaking of?” Odysseus asked tentatively. “Then again, something feels wrong about this place already. If it is indeed Ithaca you’re speaking of, I don’t find any evidence—”

“You’re always thinking like that, aren’t you?” the young shepherd giggled. “No wonder people call you polymetis. Anyone else would’ve rushed to meet his wife and children—but not Odysseus. No, he’d test everything with trickery first, then he’d observe his wife himself, seeing if she’s still the Penelope he knew of—the answer is yes, even if you’d like to see for yourself. She still remains your wife—though not for long. At this very moment there are one hundred and eight suitors reveling in your house, spending your wealth as they wait for your wife to reconsider her marriage—a proposal she’s been denying for three years straight.”

He felt delighted, somehow, knowing that Penelope remained his own, even when he didn’t belong to Penelope alone anymore. For days he had been wondering if Penelope would find comfort in the fact that she didn’t have to wait for him any longer, and now…he could finally find out for himself.

“As for this place,” the young shepherd continued, pointing to the west. “I bet you can’t recognize it because of all this fog—it’ll probably disperse any moment soon—see? Now it’s gone.”

And then Odysseus saw it—Mount Neriton, where the forest was verdant; Phorcys’s anchorage, with an olive tree standing at the harbor head; the Naiads’ cave beside it—where one would make sacrifices to the nymphs to grant their wishes. And as Odysseus beheld everything, he fell to his knees, kissing the fertile ground with great passion, and held out his hands towards the nymphs with an utterance of prayer. The young man watched him with interest. But when Odysseus finished his prayer, the young shepherd replied. “Now let’s not delay but put these goods in some hidden corner of this sacred cave. Then I’ll tell you all the details about the troubles in your house before you go.”

And they brought them all into the cave—the shining bronze and gold, the fine clothes and all other gifts—and then they worked together to move a rock in place to block the entrance. When they had finished their work, the young shepherd was the first to speak. “Now, Odysseus, you can begin to plan for the suitors’ demise. That is a task I cannot assist you—but know that you can always trust your swineherd and your own son. So, stop by his house before you head for the palace. You can learn about everything that transpires in your house there.”

Then the shepherd gestured to him to go.

And Odysseus nodded with gratitude, then walked away. He didn’t notice how the young shepherd stared at his back, how a smirk revealed itself on his lips, how he slowly walked up, a spear in his hand, and all of a sudden—

Odysseus found himself falling to his knees, his back bleeding. 

And then the pain suddenly struck.

He knelt down to the ground, gasping in surprise and anguish. He barely caught a glimpse of the young man pacing beside him, as the shepherd finally spoke. “Well done, Odysseus, you have left your back open.”

“Why…why are you doing this?” Odysseus growled, his voice failing. “Who…are you?”

“A son you never had,” the young man smiled ominously. 

“Te…Tele…?”

“No,” the young man cut him off, looking away in disgust. “No, you’re the farthest thing I have to a father.”

“But…but why?”

“Touch your wound, and you’ll find your answer.”

So he stretched out his right hand with effort, and found the wound he did. Strangely, he did not see any red stained on his fingers—for there was no blood at all. Instead, a drop of water dripped from the tip of the finger, falling towards the sands. “What is…happening to me?” he hissed.

The young shepherd pointed at him with the spear, letting slip his words with wings. “I see you’re a good lier…but not as good as him. I know what you are at first sight—a shadow, a counterfeit, a phantom made of cloud—”

“What?” he exclaimed, his eyes wide open.

“Yes, you’re no Odysseus of Ithaca…” the young shepherd crouched down, lowering his face of mockery. “You’re nothing but a mere eidolon—of the man who is supposed to be here. I see you’re sharing his memories, his wits—but the thing is, you lack his spirit. The heart of a man is built upon hardships he endured, not hardships he remembered. For him, it’s been nineteen years since he had seen his home; but for you, it’s been twenty-seven days only.”

“How could you possibly know?” he snarled, ignoring his pain. “Who are you to judge my memory? The things I recall—the things I feel—They’re so real to me. I can smell the scent of gore as faces of men were smashed against the walls in that Cyclops’s cave, see the rays of Helios diminish as we entered the realm of Hades, hear the war-cries as we clashed with the Trojans…I have felt the pain of losses. I have known fear. I have suffered and sailed through the toughest of hells…and now you’re telling me that all these memories are nothing but fancy?”

“First of all,” the young man rose to his full height. A cloud of gold suddenly enshrouded the shepherd. The next thing he saw, the one standing before him had become a tall woman, armed with a panoply, her spear blazing. Upon her helmet, the red crest seemed as if drenched in blood. On the face of her shield, the head of a Gorgon stood out menacingly.

“…Athena?”

“I am to judge as I say so.” the woman allowed a smirk on her lips. “Second, no, these memories aren’t your fancy—they’re just not yours to begin with. Third, you are far from the man you’re trying to impersonate. For that reason, I have no use for you to clean up the mess here in Ithaca. Now, look at my eyes and tell me—where is Odysseus?”

He gasped, and raised his head painfully. His strength was failing him. “But I am…Odysseus.”

“Don’t keep fooling yourself. What you bear with you is not yours, and I cannot let you take what he has from him—his form, his memories, his sufferings…and his wife, his son, his family. I cannot allow you to have your ‘revenge’ while the real Odysseus suffers still,” the goddess glared at him, her eyes gleaming with rage. “I’ll ask you again—where is he?”

The pain was working its way through his veins as he once again crumbled, this time breathing rapidly as he felt his life slipping away. He had never felt the brink of death so close to him…but then, what remedy could he possibly find to appease the rage of a goddess?

Goddess…

“I don’t know…I’m sorry…” the words sounded softer than a whisper. He knew that death had finally found him—a sacker of cities, a man of twists and turns…

…a shadow of this man, at least—

—he accepted his death like accepting his identity.

He did not see the fluttering waves, forming a near-smirk on the face of the sea.

He did not see the goddess of wisdom plunging her spear into the sands, calculating new wiles for her scheme.

He did not see the wife of Odysseus weeping by her loom, wherein a shroud had been woven, her time run out finally.

For at that moment, he had drawn his final breath already.

All of a sudden, the fallen body melted into a rising cloud, erasing any trace of recognition. A gist of steam rose up silently, taking away one last sign of its existence. Staring at the emptiness where a phantom of Odysseus had once laid, Athena already knew her answer.

“Calypso.”

…………………………………………………………………………………

(TW: implied SA)

He beheld the daylight blankly, trying to blink away the memories of the last five days. Or the last few years—the number had already lost its meaning here.

But he’d never thought the goddess would be cruel enough to lock him up in the cave for five days straight. Five days without sunlight, five days without fresh air, five days without mourning by the sea, whispering hopes of his homecoming.

The door was only opened when he was in need of food…or when the goddess was in need of him. 

Why don’t you just close the door forever, and trap myself in? Why don’t you just leave me here dying of hunger, or simply suffocating?

Is it really necessary to open the door again?

Odysseus shook his head, continuing his walk towards the shore. He didn’t turn to see if the goddess was following behind—he couldn’t care anymore. It wasn’t even the goddess herself who freed him—he just woke up finding the door open, and took his chance. And now he had finally come out, no goddess in sight.

I’d rather die than let you take possession of me. It’s a thought he had whispered on the first night, when he was asked into her cave. When he was forced into her cave. Only now had he realized, he had been so simple, so naïve. 

He did not die, but he had been her possession ever since.

Sometimes he would just hope that the goddess would be merciful enough to simply let him die an Ajax’s death. Sometimes he would think about casting himself into the neighing sea, wishing for an end to all this misery. But he would always restrain himself whenever he thought of Penelope. He just couldn’t leave her waiting forever.

“But you already did,” sometimes he could hear the goddess’s voice answering. “You failed your comrades already. What makes you think you won’t fail your family?”

Is that really her voice? Or is it just an illusion? He could no longer tell the difference. Reality had become the nightmare he woke up to, and he couldn’t find solace in his dreams either.

It’s as if I’m dead inside…

But deep down, he knew he was dead already. Dead to the mortal world he knew of, dead to the people he loved and cared for. If anything, at least he was not physically dead yet.

But after five days of that kind of treatment…he only hoped to be long dead before then.

What are those five days for?

He had no answer. Although…some trees did appear to be missing. He’d always notice it whenever there was a tree missing. It was like an instinct, something he had trained himself when he used to garden with his father. But that memory had seemed so distant as Ithaca itself—so hard to access now. 

He had just reached the shoreline when he noticed a spot on the sea. 

Is that…a raft?

A raft in full sail, steered by a person with an oar, three large sacks beside them…

But then he saw the goddess, waving at the person on board, a pleasant smile on her face, as the raft slowly sailed away. The person on board—a man, as he saw that now, his face seemed rather familiar. It was as if…

Wait.

Is that…me?

Odysseus almost called, and stopped himself in fear of the goddess. That man didn’t seem to notice him, but instead turned towards the brightening horizon, a brave new journey ahead…

What on top of Mount Neriton is going on here?

But then he found the goddess approaching. The smile on her face had somehow turned malicious, and Odysseus wasn’t sure if he’d want to find out why. The goddess walked up to him, and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“Now that he’s gone,” the goddess looked beyond the wine-dark sea, beyond the lands and islands that had composed his wanderings, then whispered gently to his ears. “It’s like I promised, Odysseus of Ogygia: we shall have our eternity.”

[onlyswan]

summary: in which you drive jungkook mad but you make his heart beat.

idol!jungkook x f!reader, est. relationship / fluff, suggestive, a pinch of angst / word count: 5k

content/warnings: tried sumn different so this is mainly from jungkook’s pov :D !! drummer!oc ur so cool & i’m stealing u from ur bf 🏃— mention of a 10 yr age gap between jk & a guy who likes oc (he’s hella pissed off) ; mentions of (car) s^x ; allusion to a bl^wj^b ; jk just got home from tour & oc is tipsy, needy, & dramatic as hell T_T ; oc /briefly/ touches jk while he’s driving & he /nearly/ loses his shit & crashes the car (he doesn’t) (i’m kidding) + to the anon who wanted to jk’s cheek scar to get a kissy here u go 🥺

> in which masterlist!

note: oc is so shot glass of tears coded especially in this… i’m glad i’m posting this after golden came out just so i could say it 🥰 this takes place after this drabble sooo the end of oct 2018 <3 if u’ve read the prev drabble too, this was when jk said those exact words in the past 🥺 wrote this in the middle of hell week so i was half out of my mind :'] as always feedback & reblogs rrr always appreciated !! 🥺

—

jungkook loves the sound of rain— the gentle knocks on every surface of the earth has always been a lullaby even during daylight.

tonight is a different story, however. it is defeaning, terrifying even. he can barely see what is infront of him, spare the occasional headlights blazing across the slippery roads. his umbrella is being stolen away by the harsh gusts of wind and the mud stains on his sneakers are well-hidden by the plain black.

and yes, he is tired; and yes, this is hard, but that is the end of it.

you’re exactly where you told him you’d wait, far behind the edge of the roof where the rainwater falls from and splashes on the ground. you stand out in his blue oversized shirt, one that he purposely left behind in your closet so he could have something else to wear when he sleeps over.

you’re too busy typing on your phone to see him crossing the parking lot; he feels his very own vibrate in the pocket of his sweatpants. however, his giddy smile fades when a man exits through the entrance door and approaches you with a red umbrella. his strides become slightly hurried then, as he watches you politely decline it with that heart-fluttering smile of yours everybody adores.

“oh no, really, i’m fine. you might need it later! my boyfriend is already coming to pick me up anyway.”

jungkook acts cool. he tucks his hand in the pocket of his sweatpants, tries to make himself appear bigger because he realizes that he would be inches shorter than the man if not for the platforms of his shoes.

“____, baby!”

upon hearing your name coming from the lips of your lover, your face lights up even brighter.

“jungkook!”

you greet him with an embrace, jumping into his arms before he can properly set down his umbrella on the ground.

“yah, yah-yah! be careful!” he chuckles as he wraps his arms around your waist to catch you, peering down to check how high your boots are for you to be running and jumping around freely.

“hey, i’m going back inside- there’s more customers coming in. make it home safe, alright?”

the stranger tries to catch your attention, and jungkook’s protectiveness swiftly kicks in when he lays a hand on you and slides it down to your lower back. your boyfriend turns you away from the unprompted touch by pulling your body closer to his side, and he is unable to control how his eyebrows knit together in annoyance.

he wasn’t planning on giving much thought to the presence of a man around you. he knows better than that. but he has never heard about this one, which raises the question of who the fuck is he to freely touch you like that?

“oh- alright! thank you, jun!”

“you better take care of ____, man. it’s dangerous around here during this time.”

he receives a rather heavy and condescending pat on the shoulder, and so, with his annoyance bubbling worse, he wears a passive aggressive smile on his face.

“yeah, of course i am,”

jun’s nostrils flare as he witnesses you sneakily slide your hands underneath jungkook’s hoodie in search of warmth.

“i’m here now, so there’s no need to worry about my girlfriend anymore.”

he nods, then forces himself to smile. “that’s good, then.”

“yeah, thanks. we’re leaving.”

“oh, okay. have a nice night!”

“you too,”

he turns on his heel and returns inside the busy establishment— but not before jungkook made sure that he saw the bruises on his knuckles that he got from his boxing sessions.

his jaw clenches as he glares at the door.

is he being petty? sure, to hell with that. he doesn’t care. he’s always been one to trust his gut, and he has a bad feeling.

he is met by a love-drunk smile when his undivided attention is at last given to you, in the form of fond eyes and affectionate strokes of your hair.

“who was that?”

“eh, new bartender,” you shrug with disinterest. “hm, i think he’s 31…? he’s nice but he keeps talking about wrestling.”

he raises an eyebrow at the mention of his age, while your lips form a sad pout.

what the hell? he thought he would be 25 at most.

“the tv has been in the same channel for the past two weeks because of him. it’s all i’ve been seeing! i don’t like it-” you whine in distress, quite frankly, a little traumatized.

an endeared smile is coaxed out of him at your adorableness, how your speech is a little slurred and how you’re looking at him like you’re begging him to do something about it.

“makes me nervous,”

his dominant hand closes into a fist.

if he only he had known. should’ve fucking punched the guy, give him a taste of what he seems to be a huge fan of.

“let’s watch something calming when we get home, how about that?”

you nod your head, eyes that twinkle with eagerness fluttering shut when he leans in for a much awaited kiss. how sweet, he feels a little more alive than before. he can smell it, even taste it— the peach margarita you started sipping on before the band’s first set. concocted by jun, he presumes. he pulls away with a small smile, licking his lips for the traces of you that clung to him.

out of the blue, you burst into a fit of giggles, weak knees buckling as your weight crashes on him.

“i missed you!”

“babe, are you seriously drunk?” he chuckles, holding you with a secure grip around your torso.

“maaaybe tipsy…? i was pretending not to be.” you stand on your tip-toes to nuzzle your face against his neck, mumbling sheepishly. “only trust you.”

—

“i should’ve accepted the umbrella.” you grunt childishly, body going limp on jungkook’s back, except for the arm holding up the umbrella that shields the both of you from the pouring rain.

“yah!” he scolds you, clearly not pleased with the words that just came from your mouth. “what does that mean?”

“i’m embarrassed! they’re probably feeling bad for you.”

the last sentence comes out as a whisper, pertaining to the side glances you’ve been attracting from strangers as you make your way to your boyfriend’s car.

unfortunately, he had to park somewhere far because the restobar’s parking lot was already full.

you jokingly complained about staining your white boots with dirt and mud, but you instantly regretted it when he bent down, signalling you to ride on his back without an ounce of hesitation.

“our shoulders always get wet when we share an umbrella,” he said. “if i carry you, wouldn’t it be better?”

“embarrassing? some would even say romantic!”

something peculiar happens then— when your lips ghost over his left cheek, planting an affectionate kiss there that lasts for seconds. you pull away with a smacking sound, giggly and bubbly, might be his favorite version of you.

“i love you,” you hum, grasping the umbrella upright before it could tip over.

he doesn’t know if you did it on purpose or not, kissing him precisely where his scar is, but his heart jumps in his chest when he feels it begin to throb.

as if the wound from his childhood has come alive. as if, once again, he is bleeding as he glares at his older brother, and he still wants to play games on the computer oblivious to the fact that it would leave a permanent scar, a brand new landmark on his body.

you mistake his silence for something else.

you frown, warm breath tickling his neck as you quietly ask. “are you still mad at me?”

he sighs, vision landing on the ground as his walking pace slows down. “no? i was wrong. i shouldn’t have questioned your decision in the first place… why would i be mad?”

you started playing the drums for your friend’s band two months ago, just as soon as he left for tour. you volunteered after witnessing how distraught they were when their drummer vanished without a trace. he learned that it used to be a hobby of yours from childhood until early teenage years, playing the drums, but it was robbed from you when your father took his instruments with him when he abandoned your home for another.

he was pleasantly surprised when he learned about it, recounted all the times your hands and fingers were drumming on any sort of surface and his head naturally bopped to the beat, but then again, you never brought it up.

isn’t ____ so cool? he would proudly say when he flaunts you to his friends, even the protocol team, who have never seen him so happy.

three times a week, from nine in the evening until midnight, your phone was propped up on an empty table infront of the stage, and him, on the other side of the globe, excitedly watched you from backstage while he was getting ready for their own show. some other times, he was in his hotel room, or the private jet. his patience has been tested by crappy wifi, nosy and noisy people, and his earphones that stopped working while you looked insanely attractive grooving to ‘why’d you only call me when you’re high?’ as you effortlessly played the drums. he showered you with compliments as you did for him. you’re working hard so he must do the same.

he arrived home from tour the other day, spent the rest of its hours sleeping. yesterday, he waited for you at school and then at work like a lost puppy, slept on your bed (if he’s being honest, the two of you didn’t do much sleeping) then woke up at 9am for work.

and he tried his best, he really did, to get out of the company early enough to catch you playing a song or two. after all, it was your last day at the job.

much as you enjoyed reconnecting with an old flame— loved the overflowing tips that came from those who were amazed by your talent (well, there were also those who were just trying to get into your pants), the moment that the old drummer got down on his knees begging to be taken back by his best friends, just like how you became a part of the band, you voluntarily stepped down.

jungkook didn’t agree with this decision. he didn’t understand why you’d sacrifice something that makes you happy for a person who fucked up and wasted what they had. you went back and forth over it on the phone until you cried, told him that it wasn’t easy for you, and he couldn’t hold you in his arms or kiss your face. he could only apologize, and it even felt insincere doing it through a screen.

maybe he’s only relieved that you no longer need to be around a man an entire decade older than he is, who is obviously interested in you and serves you alcohol drinks. no, that doesn’t sit right with him. he needs jun, or whatever the fuck his true name is, to stay very far away from his baby.

“i’m just sad that i never got to watch you perform in person.”

you rest your cheek on his shoulder, heavy eyelids slowly blinking as the headlights of a black van blindsides you.

what the fuck. too bright.

“me too…”

—

“i’m bored,” you release a dramatic sigh, stealing a glimpse of jungkook at the driver’s seat, just to see if you caught his attention like you intended.

his eyes are trained on the dashboard, however, focused on the navigation guide displayed on his phone. he isn’t very familiar with this part of the city. it took him more than an hour to arrive at the address you sent him, including the time he spent in the middle of traffic.

“forty-eight minutes, then we can do whatever you want.”

“whatever i want?”

he slows down the car, briefly turning his head to find you expectantly looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

“of course,” he laughs, taking one hand off the wheel to squish your cheeks together. “just tell me what it is, baby.”

he doesn’t catch the sad look that flashes across your face after you lose his touch.

“then i’ll tell you when i figure out what i want,” you say quietly.

“i thought you already had something in mind?”

“nope,” you answer with yet another sigh.

you choose to stare out the window in silence, body completely slumping into your seat in defeat.

jungkook’s senses are sharp, or he likes to believe so. “are you okay?”

“i’m okay,”

“you sure?”

“hmm,” you hum curtly, and then you close your eyes, so he decides not to press further despite wanting to.

he meets a red traffic light not long after that. and so, he hurriedly grabs the black fleece blanket in the backseat. he envelopes you in it, crossing the distance between you to softly press his lips onto yours for a goodnight kiss. he feels you respond, albeit lazily, and he smirks cockily when you lift yourself up to chase him for one more, please— desperately, to get your fill of goodnight kisses from the many nights that you missed it.

the time seems to tick excruciatingly slow now that you’re quiet. a minute is multiplied by a hundred. the steady rhythm of your breathing keeps him sane throughout dark avenues and encounters with reckless drivers of the midnight scene.

he missed you. he missed you so much, and he knows that you’re tired from university, and tutoring high school students in english, and playing the drums for more than two hours… but he selfishly wishes that you’re awake right now so he can make up for the two months that you were apart.

be careful of what you wish for, they said.

jungkook should know better by now.

“i can’t sleep,” he hears you whisper in a dulcet tone that indirectly tells him you’re in need of some love… but he isn’t given the chance to act upon that request because you’re already all over what it is that you need.

he swallows thickly, glancing down at your hand that has somehow found its way to his inner thigh— zeroing in on your red nails, can feel them faintly grazing his skin.

you’re so pretty. everywhere.

even when naked and bare.

no, especially. it’s all he can think about.

he can draw you from memory.

“____,” he utters your name through gritted teeth, heart beginning to race a thousand miles per second in his chest.

the effect of your teasing touch is instantaneous, slowly inching closer and closer to where his growing erection is. his eyes remain focused on the road, but he fears that he’ll start thinking with his dick soon if you carry on with this act a few seconds longer.

“shit, not now, baby- please- not while i’m driving.”

your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, poorly concealing a self-satisfied smirk, and you pretend not to hear a single word from his plea.

a minx, that’s what you are, always causing trouble and blurring lines in his eyes.

“____, i’m not joking around. don’t make me mad-”

his warning is cut short by-

“fuck… fuck,” he curses, filter flying out the window once he feels you tracing the outline of his hard-on, the feather-light touch of your fingers smoothly gliding across the fabric of his sweatpants, and he completely loses it when your soft palm caresses his cock, so gentle that it feels almost innocent.

okay, so he couldn’t feel it because you weren’t skin-to-skin, but he knows that your hands are soft, can feel his imagination running wilder because he has memorized the way they feel on most parts of his body.

you’re so incredibly nasty and evil for this— squeezing him lightly, taking advantage of how sensitive he’s gotten, making him tremble as pleasure shoots up his spine. his breath stutters in his lungs and he unconsciously pushes harder on the gas.

and although it means fighting every fiber of his being that painfully yearns for more, he seizes your wrist in an iron grip, placing your hand over the gearstick while his sits heavy on top of yours.

“____! behave! you’re going to get us killed!”

he watches you jut out your bottom lip through the rearview mirror, eyes hazy with lust staring down at where your hand used to be, and then his handsome face. he is evidently flushed, honey skin dusted with a rosy pink. all the way to the tips of his ears, down to his neck.

while he’s driving? really?

doesn’t this only happen in wet dreams?

you are not real.

“then pull over,” you plead. “please?”

he releases a shaky breath. you’re always so needy with alcohol in your system, drove him into total insanity while he couldn’t be here to give you what you wanted.

“no, you need to learn how to be patient… told you we can do whatever you want when we get home, right?”

wrong move.

the silence returns, and just when he thought that you went back to your journey to slumber, the sound of your sniffles fill the car.

jungkook’s heart breaks into a million pieces.

also, he wants to slam his head against the steering wheel.

you make it so fucking hard to resist you; you always get what you want. it becomes much harder when he is the subject of your desire and he loves being loved.

“haven’t i been patient enough…? i missed you so much.”

“and i missed you too!” he brings your intertwined hands to his lips, pressing them on your skin. “fuck, you have no idea how much… please, don’t cry.”

“then pull over,” you stubbornly insist, and he is so close to driving this car into a lamp post. “fuck me at the backseat.”

“can’t,” he mumbles, sounding almost pained, and he is. he wants you so bad, it hurts. “we’re going to have to do it without protection.”

“what do you mean?” you exclaim.

you rip your hand away from his, not wasting time in unlocking the glove compartment, and a sound of sheer disappointment escapes from your mouth as you collapse back on your seat.

“jungkook, i hate you!”

“well right now i hate myself too!” he cries out in frustration. “i didn’t have the time to buy more, okay?”

“and there’s not one in your wallet?”

“babe, are you serious?!”

“what?!”

somehow, his hands still expertly swivels the steering wheel as the car meets a curve.

but he feels dizzy. the ghost of your touch is still there, a promise of carnal pleasure unfulfilled.

“stop the car,” you say out of the blue, rather calmly, and that terrifies the shit out of him.

he swallows the lump in his throat, eyes switching between you and the road in panic. “huh?”

“i said stop the car, i’m stepping out.”

“babe, come on,” he moans, ruined and tormented. he reaches for your hand but you scoot further away from him, and he ignores the way his heart drops to his stomach as he kneads your exposed thigh instead. “please, don’t be like this. i just got home.”

“jungkook! if you don’t let me get off this car right now, i swear!”

the urgency embedded in your threatening voice leaves your boyfriend with no choice but to pull over to the side of the street as soon as he gets the chance.

he carries on to unbuckle his seatbelt.

“baby, stop being stu-”

he tries to reach for you, but he is rudely ignored as you hop off the car and slam the door shut on his face.

“…bborn…”

he blinks.

he inhales. he exhales.

and then he buries his face in his hands to scream… as quietly as possible.

“what the fuck was in that margarita?!”

—

jungkook steps out of the car worried sick about you. now wearing a black bucket hat, his head whips in different directions in search for the familiar shape of your body, your hair, your shirt that is his, anything.

his arm rests on top of the car door, the other on the roof, fingers drumming on it anxiously as he chews on his bottom lip.

there are mostly restaurants here, it seems. some are already closed, some are still lights on. not far away, he hears a karaoke place bursting with music and laughter. he looks up and he finds that the night sky remains barren of stars; there’s no guidance from the heavens that will lead him to you.

except for the sound of your sweet voice calling out his name.

he turns around, and he knows it’s going to sound extremely silly, but damn, you make his life feel like a movie— because you’re jogging towards him, and the universe begins moving in slow motion. perhaps it is to prevent him from falling on his knees in relief, because he genuinely thought that you already went home on your own like the stubborn brat that you are.

“____, where did you go?! you can’t just run off like that! seriously, that was not nice!”

“i forgot my wallet!” you squeal as you halt infront of him, slapping your forehead as a way to scold yourself. “i found a hotteok cart!”

his anger quickly dissipitates. he scans your face, mouth agape in bewilderment.

you, screaming at him to stop the car because there was a sighting of your favorite snack? makes sense.

he dishes out the wallet from his pocket. “wha- i thought you… you didn’t have money?”

you shake your head to answer his question.

“then how are you already eating?”

you take another bite from the hot hotteok you’re holding in a paper cup, and then you shrug.

“i was already eating when i realized it,” you point at yourself, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “so he let me run back here. does it look like this face would steal?”

“you’re impossible!” he bursts out laughing, the unique sound of his joy harmonizing with the mundane noises of the city.

he is thoroughly amused and in awe of your undeniable charm never failing to work its magic. if you just gave it a shot, you might be even better at him at his job.

you’re pliant as he captures your wrist, tugging you away with him so he can lock the car.

“i bought three, by the way.” you note as the two of you start walking, with you clinging to his side. “the last three then mister can go home.”

you put the hotteok near his mouth, and he pauses to take a big bite. “have you even had dinner?”

“just the four margaritas- they were yummy! or was it five?”

he clicks his tongue in disappointment, but he doesn’t get to say anything more about it because you’ve reached the hotteok cart, and he’s already handing the vendor the money.

“thank you!” he bows his head politely as he accepts the remaining two you mentioned earlier, handing them over to you.

“no, this is yours.” you speak with tenderness, giving back one of the cups to him. “then we’ll split the third one. it’s really good!”

the vendor secretly watches the interaction with a fond smile as he packs up to finally, finally end his long day working at the busy streets of seoul.

—

you’re sat together on the hood of jungkook’s car as you share a midnight snack. with caring hands, you rip the hotteok apart in perfect halves, offering the other to your lover. he accepts it in between his teeth.

“do you want drums as your christmas gift?”

“love,” you search for the words to say as you chew the food in your mouth. “i can barely fit in my apartment. where am i going to put a drum set…? not to mention that i can’t even cry without my neighbor hearing it.”

his shoulders drop in dejection, and you rub your boyfriend’s back in an attempt to comfort him.

“you must really want to see me play, don’t you?”

“i’m dying to,” he says in pure jungkook fashion, tone dramatic and thick with an accent that is entirely his. “i can’t believe there were regulars who saw you every night, while i, your boyfriend, didn’t even see you once…! even that fucking bartender… this- this can’t be right! do you think this makes sense? no, right?”

“aw, my baby,” you coo at him, jutting out your bottom lip as you tenderly cup his face.

“i don’t trust him, by the way,” he scoffs. “as much as possible, stay away from him when you visit, alright…? if i see him touching you one more time, i don’t know what i’ll end up doing to him.”

“i don’t like him either,” you giggle. “so that’s easy.”

he stares at your bloodshot eyes. damn it, you haven’t sobered up.

“____, i’m serious. he’s weird. i’m worried about you but i can’t always be here to protect you.”

you blink at him innocently. “i am too! serious!”

“you promise me?”

“i promise!”

he nods, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he gets lost in the sea of his own thoughts. “i should talk to your friends about this, too. is that okay?”

“if that will ease your mind,” you half-smile, heart fluttering in your chest because you feel so cherished.

comfortable silence follows suit.

the hotteok is still soft and warm and sweet. if your love had to be delivered to his doorstep, it would in the form of your favorite food.

he sighs to gain more of your sympathy, basking in the attention he’s receiving from you. he missed this. he missed you. he sounds like a broken record, but it’s true.

“come ooon, don’t be sad! i’ll make it up to you! but it’s a surprise!”

“surprise?” he eyes you with suspicion. “what surprise?”

“just trust me, alright?”

you poke his cheek where his dimples are, and you witness them pop out as he copies your contagious smile.

“can i make a guess?”

“nope!”

you fit the remaining piece of your hotteok in your mouth, jumping off the hood of the car. you stand before him as you wipe your hands clean with a small paper napkin.

“don’t you dare. if you guess it right then my plans will be ruined!”

—

you’re back on the passenger seat to travel the remaining twenty-seven minutes to your apartment.

jungkook melts into the tenderness of your touch as he drives. you’re tracing the toned muscles of his arms; stroking his hair, his face, and the smell of the sticky brown sugar from the hotteok still lingers on your skin.

“when are you going to start getting tattoos?” you wonder out loud as he intertwines your fingers together on top of his thigh. “i think you’d look so pretty.”

“i’m planning on it.”

his heart skips a beat at the thought of you remembering that he wants his skin artfully inked as you absentmindedly distracted yourself with it.

he licks his lips, smiling as he looks over at you. “you really think so? pretty?”

“hm, hot, too,” you stick your tongue out playfully, and he snorts out a laugh. “but as long as you’re happy, then nothing else matters.”

“of course- wait, yah! you still need to eat dinner.” he reminds you once he recognizes the path you’re taking.

a grocery store is not more than a kilometer away, if his memory serves him right.

“what do you want? i don’t mind cooking.”

“for you to fuck me, that’s what i want. you won’t mind that, too?”

oh my fucking god.

he wishes you were passed out drunk instead so he wouldn’t have to suffer this battle between self-control and his insatiable appetite for you.

“baby, aren’t you still sore from this morning?”

“a little,” he notices you squeezing your thighs together from his peripheral, and along with it, the bruises on your knees from when you worshipped his body last night. “but i want you.”

your giggles in reaction to him frustratedly running his fingers through his hair seems to only fuel the dirty thoughts in his head. he uncomfortably shifts in his seat to adjust himself.

“can you just bring it up when we get near your house? you’re killing me over here!”

“but why? i’m having fun.” you bring your tangled hands over to your side, peppering the back of his hand with innocent kisses. “i love you. you’re so cute.”

“are you… are you seriously calling me cute after what you just asked me to fuck you?”

his disbelief is challenged by your amusement.

“why not? being one dimensional? boring. being different things all at once? sexy.”

jungkook doesn’t need to see you play the drums to know that you are the only one capable of making his heart beat like this. to feel it pounding, it turns out there’s another way besides performing, he can just be alone with you. a different type of addictive exhilaration. he isn’t at the top of the world; he free falls as it revolves around you.

you always know the right words to say, because right now, he is preening. he’s wearing a big smile, the kind that looks like he’s laughing, but he’s not— almost. the kind that reaches his eyes, shapes them into little crescent moons.

how did he get so lucky?

rehearsals in the morning be damned, he will be fucking you good all night.

you make a noise of confusion when the car swerves into the trees at the side of the road.

“what are we doing here?”

jungkook only spares you a glance. “get in the backseat, baby.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[pshbites]

✦ BLONDES HAVE MORE FUN ━ yjw

pairing ?! jungwon x fem!reader. genre ?! est. relationship, fluff, so cute u wanna D WORD. warnings ?! none. synopsis ?! your bf wants you to dye his hair. wc ?! 0.5k a/n ?! i SWEAR!! i will work on miss moving on guys the jungwon brainrot was too strong 😵‍💫😵‍💫, pls like n reblog as always!!

taglist ?! @leeechin @00kittenz (my loves this ones for u 💗) @wensurr @livelaughluvryanreynolds @yeehawnana @ami-soph @t1iqaa @jjongsaengzz @rriribelle @cherrybeomm @mochamvgz @squiishymeow @mitmit01 @justalittle-hee @yourmomssneakylink @heelariously @bubblytaetae @wintertxt @17ericas @beatrizmel-472 @vveebee @luvyou2ooo @sunghoonsperfume @hmusunoo @mariahxrrera @silquids @thedemonriot @blockbusterhee @suneng @mamuljji (bold cannot be tagged)

perma taglist !

jungwon sat on your bathroom toilet, watching you as you mixed up the hair dye. he smiled softly at the sight of you reading the instructions on the box. he smiles also at the thought of how quick you jumped up to help him dye his hair when he first told you he wanted to. you were always so attentive to him, he was to you as well. 

“you got it figured out honey?” he mumbled, heart swelling at your tongue sticking out slightly because you were focused. “yeah, but we might have to leave it in longer since your hair is black” you sighed softly, slipping gloves on and shaking the bottle. 

jungwon gasps at your professionalism, “are you going to be my personal stylist?” he looked up at you as laughed softly. “yes i am” you smiled at him, shaking the bottle still. you began to squeeze the bleach out into the sections. jungwon kept his eyes trained on you as you worked diligently on his hair. 

jungwon loved to admire you, how pretty you looked in lounge wear even with your hair in a loose ponytail. or how you bit your lip, trying to concentrate on the task at hand. you moved closer to jungwon in an attempt to get the back of his head. you leaned back a little once you got the section. 

you knew jungwons eyes were on you this whole time, you felt it. “you’re really distracting you know that” you glanced at him and he only smiled. “i’m just admiring my pretty girlfriend” he tilted his head as you continued to brush in the dye. you cheeks turned slightly pink, but you kept quiet trying not to give in. “would you stop it” you mumbled, trying to concentrate. 

“says the one who’s blushing” he smiles, making you smile even harder. “whatever” you mumbled back. you went on with applying the dye in his hair. now, you were standing in between his legs, jungwon still watching you intently. 

“isn’t your back going to hurt hunching over me like that?” jungwon sighed out, tilting his head, then you tilted it straight so you could apply the dye correctly. “no it’s okay won” you said, straightening your back slightly then going back to hunching over him. 

he could see the discomfort on your face and only sighed once more. “sit on my lap” he said, now you were looking at him with a face. “what?” you laughed out, ears not registering what he said. “sit, you’ll be more comfortable” he pulled on your shirt, trying to get you to sit. reluctantly, you gave in, straddling his lap. 

you sat comfortably on his lap now, continuing to dye his hair. “why did you want to go blonde anyways?” you glanced down at him, his eyes never leaving yours. “blondes have more fun” he smiled, making you laugh. “as if you aren’t like an orange cat” you remarked, setting the brush down on the counter and looking at him. his eyes twinkled as his hands rested on your waist, rubbing up and down.

”yeah but you love that about me” he smiled, tilting his head. you tilted your head along with him, teasing him, “yeah i do” you smiled even bigger now that he was looking at you like that, the look of adoration. “you have to leave it in for about 40 minutes if we really want the bleach to pick up properly” you ran your gloved hand through his hair. “what does my love want to do in the meantime?” jungwon smiled at you once more, his hand rubbing up and down your back. 

“we could start that show we wanted to watch a couple weeks ago, but we’d only get through one episode” you smiled softly and jungwon grinned, nodding. “c'mon i'll get some snacks for us” jungwon patted your back as a signal to get up and you only smiled, getting up. there was never a dull moment with jungwon. 

© all rights to pshbites 2024. please do not copy, translate or repost my works

[lovebugism]

Hi!!!

Could you write jealous!eddie x reader…🫣

I’m down so bad for this man istg

ty for requesting :D i too am down bad for this man — grump!eddie can't believe other people get to look at you (jealous!eddie, established relationship, 1.7k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Eddie thought the comic book section of Family Video was the coolest thing in the world until he met you. And it’s weird ‘cause now you’re all he can think about. He’s holding a collector’s item in his hands, but all he can see is you — and how close you’re standing to Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.

The boy lays two VHS tapes on the counter before you, each packaged in a thick plastic case. My Neighbor Totoro and The Land Before Time. He waits for you to make an impossible choice while you idle just ahead of him, elbows propped on the countertop with your head in your hands. Your wide-eyed gaze darts between the two options.

Your head shakes between your palms. “I can’t decide,” you conclude, rising to full height with a final huff. “It’s like choosing your favorite child.”

“Well, good thing you don’t have to,” Steve quips with a lopsided smirk. His nose scrunches, and it makes his honey eyes sparkle. “‘Cause you’re getting both. On the house.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you tell him, brows pinched in a quiet sort of protest.

He drops the tapes into a plastic bag, then shrugs like his hand slipped. “Too late.”

“Won’t your boss get mad?”

“What Keith doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“I don’t want you getting in trouble because of me,” you agonize, face twisted with every bit of it.

Steve meets your worry with a wider, pink grin. He bounces a shoulder and jostles the nametag pinned haphazardly to his emerald vest. “I’ll be fine, alright? I’m strong— I can take one of Keith’s stupid lectures.”

Your hesitant fingers brush his golden ones when you take the bag from him. “You’re so brave, Steve Harrington,” you lilt with a teasing glint in your eye, tilting your cheek to your shoulder to feign sincerity.

“The bravest, actually,” the boy jokes in return.

Eddie watches all this play out from where he lingers at the comic book stand. A whole rack of his favorite superheroes, and he isn’t paying an ounce of attention to a single one. 

He was only halfway listening at first, still mostly focused on the cartoon in his hands — if only to pretend he wasn’t completely eavesdropping on your conversation. But now he’s outright staring the two of you down, with an unabashed glare pointed at the asshole flirting with his girl. 

“God, he’s disgusting,” Eddie grumbles under his breath when Steve says something that makes you laugh.

He’s not talking totally to himself. Not entirely, anyway. Dustin’s crouched just beside him in search of one of the newer comics that he swears Keith is hiding from him. “He’s just being nice,” the curly-haired boy reasons with a shrug, obviously distracted as he flips through a stack of flimsy magazines.

Eddie scoffs and finally turns away from you to look at the boy below him. He blinks for the first time in several minutes as he shoots the kid a deadpan stare. “Oh, so it’s not because he thinks my girlfriend’s hot?”

“He’s definitely doing it because she’s hot,” Dustin answers without thinking twice.

“Watch it, Henderson.”

“You asked!” he argues, tilting his chin to look up at Eddie with a wide, ocean-eyed stare. “I’m just saying. Steve’s a good guy. He wouldn’t do that to you— Now, can you please help me find this stupid comic book before I lose my mind?”

Eddie huffs. He decides it might be healthier to distract himself with this metaphorical treasure hunt than stare daggers at you and Steve from across the room. “Which one are you looking for again?”

“Metamorpho— The original. Not the stupid reprint that just came out.”

The older boy stills. He closes the comic book between his palms with one pale hand until the cover of it flips down. Metamorpho, the vibrant cover reads, The Element Man. He’d been too busy looking at you, he hadn’t realized he’d been hiding the thing from Dustin for five whole minutes.

“Is this it?” Eddie murmurs, shoving the thing in the boy’s face.

Dustin’s head shoots up. He snatches the thing from the boy’s grip and gapes at it, with all his practiced teenage boy dramatics. “You had it the entire time?!” he shouts, but Eddie’s already sauntering to the front counter — where Steve’s still making you laugh. 

As pretty as you are smiling (so much that it makes his chest ache), there’s a simmering anger burning orange in his chest. Making you laugh is his job. Not Harrington’s.

You seem to notice his presence before he’s even wrapped you in his arms. You flash him a beaming grin that makes his stomach whirl. He gets sick with it — with nostalgia or something equally tender. 

The green of his envy starts to fade when he realizes you’re wearing his skull and cross-bones sweater, all bundled up in it like it’s yours. He feels a primal sense of ownership, knowing that you’re swaddled in something that belongs to him, knowing he has you in a way Steve doesn’t. It’s not every day the local freak gets to one-up the king.

“Ready to go?” Eddie grins, rosy and broad, as he wraps his arms around you in a loose, sideways embrace. The warmth of the proximity has your stomach doing backflips. The familiarity of his scent, musky and woody and smoky, makes your heart thud hard against your ribcage.

“Yep,” you nod, still smiling. “Steve’s letting me get the movies for free.”

Eddie’s lips smack against his teeth as his jaw drops in a feigned sense of awe. His wild curls bunch at his shoulder when his head tilts softly sideways, looking at the boy across the counter. “Aw,” he croons, high-pitched and sarcastic. “Isn’t that sweet?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Shut up before I revoke your comic stand privileges.”

Eddie squints. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me, Munson.”

Eddie, deciding to be the bigger person, chooses to abandon the petty argument. He feels like the bigger person, anyway — like he’s ten feet tall, walking out of Family Video with you under his arm. He could lose a thousand arguments and still feel like a winner as long as he gets to crawl home to you.

You can’t help but notice how weird he’s being, though. There was a foreign bite behind his words as he spat his sarcasm at Steve. The tension follows you even now, as he opens the passenger side door of his van for you. 

Eddie holds onto the rusted latch with a pale, tattooed hand. You turn to face him instead of planting yourself onto the chipping pleather seat. “Are you okay?” you ask, a subtle furrow between your brows when you peer at him from beneath your lashes.

The boy scoffs a boyish laugh, obviously overcompensating. “Yeah, I’m fine— what are you talking about?”

Your eyes narrow. “You’re being weird.”

“I think you’re being weird, doll— interrogating me outta nowhere.” 

He expects you to laugh. Then he could tell you how pretty you are, and you’d be so flustered by the compliment that you’d forget this entire conversation ever happened. You don’t laugh, though. You don’t even crack a smile. You just keep staring at him.

“I’m fine,” Eddie groans, wild curls billowing when a breeze rolls by. He still tries to smile, though the bright pink expression doesn’t quite meet his eyes. He shrugs and tries to play it cool because anything less than that is so not metal. “I’m just… I’m just a little annoyed. That’s all.”

Your chest stings and your stomach starts to ache. Your mind reels as you try to understand what you could’ve done because the oh-so-sensitive you feels like it must be your fault.

“Annoyed at me?” you press in a tiny voice.

“No!” Eddie booms instantly, much louder than you. He quietens, but his face still swirls with protest. He could never be annoyed at you. As far as he’s concerned, you’ve never done anything wrong in your life. “No— are you kidding? You’re perfect.”

He takes your face in his ringed hands, cradling your cheeks until they squish softly together. A perfect thing, indeed.

“Then what happened?” you mutter through your gently jutted lips.

The boy drops his chin to his chest and sighs. He hates that you care so much about him that you actually make him talk about his feelings. He’d much rather bottle them up and save ‘em for a rainy day. But no, you love him enough to pry the hidden emotion from his cold, black heart.

“I don’t know,” he answers first in an inaudible murmur, kicking at loose pebbles on the concrete because it’s easier than meeting your eyes. “Sometimes it gets annoying when… Other people look at you, I guess…”

He peeks at you beneath his long lashes, button eyes made of chocolate. They swim with a glittering emotion. Something tender and sheepish. He’s like a puppy when he looks at you this way. You can’t help but find him utterly adorable accordingly.

He’s a little surprised when his words make you laugh. He wasn’t joking, really, but he’s relieved to hear the honeyed sound. It runs over him like drops of summer rain and absolves him of all his envy.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think I can fix that,” you reply, smiling wide between his calloused palms.

“I know,” he whines, pouting softly. “And it sucks. ‘Cause you’re too pretty for your own good.”

You lean further into his warm hand. You blink at him with pretty eyes, and in a pretty voice, you wonder, “Would it make you feel better if I said that I only care when you’re looking at me? And that everyone else is basically invisible when you’re around?”

Eddie’s heart swells so much it starts to ache. You’ve awoken something in him — something that used to be dead before you came around, or something that didn’t exist at all. It’s something golden and made of velvet. Something warm and honeyed. Something that doesn’t have a name because you don’t even know you’ve invented it.

Despite trying not to smile too wide, a beam begins to pull at the corners of his mouth. A second later, and he’s grinning with all his teeth. He gets all shy, ducking his gaze as he nods at you. “Yeah, actually— that does make me feel a little better.”

You beam up at him, all lovesick and stupid. With your cheeks still in his hands, you rise to the tips of your toes and press a smacking kiss to the flushed apple of his cheek.

Eddie figures it doesn’t get more metal than this.

[wintrwinchestr]

obedience | part 2

summary: a week ago, you and joel had experimented with a new kink, and it’s been on your mind ever since. you had been too shy to ask to try it out again, but joel always knows exactly what you need.

warnings: 18+, smut, daddy kink, pet play (egregious use of “puppy”, joel teaches you dog commands and refers to your hand as your paw, among other things), d/s and ddlg relationship dynamics, praise kink, degradation/dumbification kink, cockwarming, edging, unprotected piv sex, creampie, pet names (baby, babygirl, sweetheart, etc), talk of reader wearing a collar, joel giving reader a bath/washing her hair, hella aftercare, reader has hair and can be carried by joel, implied age gap but reader is an adult, let me know if i missed anything!!

word count: 5.7k

a/n: literally nobody look at me please. this the most self indulgent self insert shit i’ve ever written in my life and if you get it you get it idk what else to say!!! anyway thank you for being patient with me and reading what i write, my big girl job takes it out of me sometimes but that’s what i write this type of shit to deal with <3 nice comments and reblogs appreciated if you enjoyed or if this awakened something in you :)

(read part 1 here if you missed it)

dividers by @saradika

“You want Daddy to train you, babygirl, you wanna be his pretty lil’ pet?”

It had been a week now since Joel had punished you, denied you for acting out over the phone, for disobeying him and sending him lewd photos of yourself when he had explicitly told you to stop. But you hadn’t listened, he wasn’t having it, and when he had returned home from work late that night, he had called you by a new name. Puppy, he had spat at you several times as he made you chase a ruined orgasm on his steel-toed work boot. 

The pet name hadn’t left your mind since then, repeating itself over and over, along with his question of if you wanted to be trained, if you wanted to be his pet. The more you thought about it, the more you found yourself becoming desperate for it. Each day in the office was a struggle to stay focused on even the simplest of tasks, your thoughts overrun with fantasies of Joel getting you on all fours for him, giving you commands and praising you for following them, tugging you towards him by a finger hooked into a collar to tell you what a pretty puppy, what a good girl you’re being for him.

You’d left work every evening for the past several days with a damp spot in the seat of your panties, feeling ashamed by how depraved and inappropriate almost every one of your waking thoughts had become. When you would greet Joel at the door all needy and wanting, he would tease you with a “What’s gotten into you, lately, hm?”, but never push for more than you were willing to reveal to him, though he thought he might have had an idea. He would take you to the bedroom and have his way with you the way you liked, the way you had usually craved, before he had turned your world upside down by deciding on a whim to try somethin’ new that fateful night. 

Joel would be more than willing to try it again, to follow through with that question he’d asked you, but he decided he was content with waiting for you to come to him, for you to decide when you were ready for him to make you his good puppy once more.

–

The weekend begins just like any other. Joel’s internal clock wakes him up no later than seven in the morning, the sun just barely streaming in through the blinds in your shared bedroom. He tries to keep his creaks and groans to a minimum as he rolls out of bed, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead before quietly padding his way into the kitchen to get a sizable pot of coffee brewing. He lets you sleep for another couple of hours, knowing full and well at this point in your relationship that he has the wrath of your grumpy morning attitude to face if he doesn’t. He does think it’s cute, though, how your face twists up into a pout but your eyes stay scrunched closed if he wakes you up at a time you deem too early.

When Joel does decide it’s a sensible time for the two of you to get a proper start on your generous two days off from the slog of your weekday jobs, he cracks the bedroom door open gently, making his way over to your still-sleeping form. He softly brushes some of your knotted hair out of your face as he places your mug of coffee on the nightstand beside your head, prepared just the way you like it. Whatever happened to good ol’ fashioned cream and sugar? Or just plain black, for that matter? Can’t believe you like it with all this cinnamon vanilla whatever you have me dump in it, he had teased, not long after you had first started sleeping over at his place. Can’t believe you drink it without anything in it. It needs at least a lil’ somethin’ sweet in it, you had bantered back to him, to which he was quick to reply with Got my somethin’ sweet right here, don’t I? before pulling you into his lap and kissing you hard until both of your cups ran cold.

You smile at the memory in your half-sleepy state, slowly blinking your eyes open to see Joel’s warm and familiar smile. “Mornin’, sweet girl,” he says, his grin only growing wider when you greet him back with the cute little squeal that comes out when you stretch your arms over your head instead of an actually intelligible word. “Got some emails and borin’ stuff to catch up on this mornin’, why don’t you just stay comfy and sip on your coffee while you wake up for a bit, hm? Probably be done in time to get lunch together somewhere, how’s that sound?”

“Okay, Daddy,” you reply softly, real words this time, as you push yourself up to sitting while Joel props your pillows up behind you for your back to rest against. You don’t put up much of a fight against the yawn that stretches your jaw, rubbing your blurry eyes as it does.

“Alright, gimme a kiss, sleepy girl. Enjoy your creamer with a splash o’ coffee,'' Joel taunts through a chuckle. He presses his lips to yours, and his coarse beard tickles the skin around your mouth, making you giggle. The smile hasn’t completely faded from your face by the time he slips out of the bedroom to head into his office, shutting the door gently behind him.

Extending a hand down to your nightstand, you hook your fingers through the mug’s handle and slowly bring it up to your face, careful not to spill any. He’d chosen your favorite Daddy’s Girl mug, the phrase written in bold pink text curved over a little illustration of two blue daisies. You always thought your coffee tasted a little better from this mug, somehow. Taking your first sugary sweet sip, you think the sentiment is as true this morning as it’s always been.

–

A little while later, when you feel somewhat more awake thanks to plenty of caffeine and sugar working its way through your body, you finally force yourself into comfortable clothes different from the ones you slept in. With your hair sufficiently tamed, face washed, and teeth brushed, you decide now’s as good of a time as any to try and act on the plan you’d been concocting over the past couple of days, waiting for a moment just like this to pounce on.

You still felt too shy to bring it up to Joel, to tell him how badly you’ve been wanting him to treat you like his little pet, and go even further with it this time. You know he’d never judge you for it, and he had seemed to like the experiment just as much as you did. But something about your little fantasy still felt taboo and shameful, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to use your big girl words and ask for it.

Though, you had finally realized, maybe you didn’t have to ask for it. Maybe you could quietly tip toe into his office one lazy Saturday morning and sit at his feet, nuzzle into his thigh until he brings a hand down from his keyboard to scratch behind your ear, asking you What’re you up to down there, babygirl?

And that’s exactly where you’ve found yourself now, answering his question with a dreamy whimper, leaning into his touch as the feeling of his fingers on your skin makes you smile so blissfully, wiggling on your knees.

“What’s got you feelin’ so snuggly this mornin’, hm? Just need some lovin’ from your Daddy?” he asks in his still-rough morning voice, gazing down at you affectionately.

“Mmhmm,” you hum, wrapping your arms around his calf and rubbing your cheek against the soft leg of his sweatpants.

“Alright, lil’ thing. Just got a couple more emails to take care of and then I’m all yours, promise.” He removes his hand from your scalp to start typing again, and you pout in protest. 

Joel shoots a stern look down to you. “Poutin’ don’t typically get us what we want, now does it? Be patient, sweetheart, just a few more minutes.”

You release another upset noise, louder this time, and then he’s pushing his rolling chair back, your grasp around his leg coming apart as he does.

“Came in here actin’ so good and sweet, where’d this bratty girl come from, hm? If there’s somethin’ you want, gotta use your big girl words and ask for it, you know that,” he scolds, his expression becoming more serious.

You hadn’t meant to elicit this reaction from him at all, and it causes your eyes to well up as you stare at the carpet, avoiding his gaze. Opting to answer him with just a shrug, you fidget with your fingers in your lap to distract yourself from the sting behind your eyes. You do attempt to open your mouth and make your desires known to him, but think better of it, and any big girl words you did have swirling around in your brain are replaced by yet another half-hearted little whine.

A whine that sounds… a little familiar to him. 

“Oh, I see…” Joel muses, a little less authority in his voice as he assumes a more relaxed position in his desk chair. “I think I know what’s goin’ on here.”

You look up to meet his eyes, tilting your head in confusion. The action prompts his lips to tug into a knowing smile, and he leans forward in his seat, making a beckoning motion with his hand. “C’mere, baby. Between my legs.”

You obey immediately, crawling towards him to close the small distance between you, settling in a kneeling position between his spread thighs. “Good girl,” he praises, and the words make you beam as he cups your chin, the moisture that had been blooming along your water lines now forgotten.

“Think I know why my sweet girl ain’t usin’ her words with me this mornin’...” Joel says, scratching at the soft skin under your chin with his fingertips. You can’t help but lean into his touch, lashes fluttering, and it’s enough to confirm his suspicions.

“Reckon it’s because puppies don’t know to, hm? They just whimper and whine for attention from their Daddies cause they don’t know how to talk, ain’t that right?”

You let out a pathetic little noise when he finally says the word, the one that’s been dampening every pair of panties you own for the past week, but that you’d been too scared to ask to hear again. But you were right after all, you didn’t have to ask for it, because Joel always knows just what you need, somehow.

He uses his grip on your chin to nod your head up and down for you, and continues talking down to you in that gravelly tone of voice that makes you feel like you’re about to melt straight through the floor. “Yeah… ‘F you wanna be Daddy’s lil’ puppy this mornin’, tha’s alright with him. Figured you oughta be missin’ it by now, seein’ as how you liked it so much the first time around…”

You’re barely processing what he’s saying, your lips slack and eyes unblinking as your cunt releases little pulses of slick into your panties. Something about Joel seeing through you so clearly, calling you out on your newly discovered kink and using it to pull you hard and fast into this familiar saccharine headspace, has your whole body burning hot with arousal. 

“And if I know one thing about puppies, it’s that they need some trainin’, don’t they? ‘Specially impatient ones like the pretty thing I’ve got sittin’ at my feet. Don’t you agree? Don’t speak, just nod, babygirl.”

It’s unusual for him to request a nonverbal response, as opposed to a Yes, Daddy, but you’re grateful for the change as you allow yourself to fall deeper into your role. You give him what he asks for, a couple of eager nods in quick succession, even though you aren’t quite sure where he’s going with this yet.

“Asked you twice to be good and patient for Daddy, and all I got was poutin’ and whinin’ instead, didn’t I? Think my lil’ pet oughta learn her first command today: Wait. Because good puppies know how to wait for their treats, don’t they, sweet girl? Again, just nod for me.”

And you do, slower and with a little more guilt in your expression this time. But despite him making you admit to your disobedience, you’re not sure you’ve ever been more fucking soaked than you are right now. You’re throbbing, aching, shifting on your knees in an effort to get even the smallest bit of relief. You think you might be releasing little whimpers, but you can’t be sure, already feeling so floaty and far away from just his words alone.

Joel spots your desperate movements, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He shifts in his chair, adjusting for his own arousal, and gets an idea.

“On second thought… Got another command I might like to teach you first. Somethin’ a lil easier for that dumb puppy brain of yours to understand, hm?” He tilts his head at you, lips curved into a mocking pout.

Your eyes flutter and roll to the back of your head involuntarily, his degradation prompting the instinctual response from you. Another syrupy slow nod lets him know you’re ready to learn, to obey to the best of your ability.

“Alright, sweet thing. When I say paw, want you to put your hand right on my knee here, ‘kay?” Joel explains, patting his muscled leg for clarity. “Paw, baby, gimme paw,” he coos at you, his tone not dissimilar to the one he uses to speak to actual dogs. 

Forcing your brain to work through the dense cloud of submission that shrouds it, you lift your hand and place it on his knee, just like he had demonstrated. His enthusiastic reaction to your obedience startles you at first, but you break into a beaming grin when you see the proud expression he wears.

“Good girl, tha’s a good girl,” he praises, scratching at the top of your head and ruffling your hair. Using his touch as a distraction, Joel places your paw over his hardening bulge with his unoccupied hand, the thick shape of him prominent through his thin sweatpants. He tightens his hand on top of yours, prompting your fingers to squeeze him. He guides your hand into massaging him for a second or two more, long enough for your melted puddle of a brain to connect with the nerve endings in your fingers. Your breath hitches when you realize what it is you’re feeling, your blissed-out expression morphing into a more desperate, wide-eyed one as you focus your attention to the movement of your hands.

“Yeah, feel that, sweet girl? Feel what you do to Daddy by bein’ so good for him?” He prompts, and your thighs squeeze together as you grope him. You can’t help but draw your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down on it to stifle the needy whimper that threatens to escape.

“You wanna sit on it, pup? Hm? Wanna keep Daddy’s cock nice ‘n warm while he finishes up his work?”

Your aching cunt squeezes around nothing at the premise, and you nod so hard it makes you dizzy. You move to push yourself off the floor and stand up, but a firm hand on your shoulder stops you.

“Ah ah, gotta use your words this time. Speak, baby,” Joel commands, and it takes you a second of searching to find the ability to do so again.

“Y-yes, Daddy, wanna s-sit on it…” you answer softly, and you’ve never heard your own voice sound so wanton. It comes out in a pitch that you almost don’t recognize as your own, featherlight and dreamy and desperate all at once. The need in your voice alone is enough to satisfy him.

“Good girl, just learnin’ all kinds o’ tricks today, aren’t we? Trainin’ you so well… C’mon up here, babygirl,” he permits, and uses his big hands and sturdy forearms to assist you in your awkward and eager climb into his lap. “Take it out, baby, get your treat.”

You whine as you situate yourself atop his thighs, tossing your head back with a dramatic flair, overwhelmed and frustrated by all he’s been asking of you. You just wanted him to turn your brain off, to praise you, to not have to think while he plays with you however he wants, and instead all he’s been doing is asking you to listen, sit, speak, obey. But of course, you should know better by now, that Joel likes making you work for it, to wait for it.

“Hey,” he scolds, grabbing your face and pulling your head forward from where it had flopped between your shoulder blades. “You were doin’ so well, bein’ such a good, obedient girl. Don’t start actin’ up on me now. Could always change my mind, not let you have your treat after all. You want that?”

 “No, Daddy…” you admit, your words distorted through the way your cheeks are squished together. He’s not using much force, just enough to keep your focus on him. 

“‘S what I thought… Go on then, pup,” Joel commands, and you make quick but clumsy work of freeing his already leaking cock from the loose confines of his sweatpants and briefs. He lets go of your face in favor of placing both of his hands on your hips, lifting you up while you pull your loose shorts and panties to the side, maneuvering his length to just barely prod at your wet little entrance. You flit your eyes from where the two of you meet back up to meet his gaze, hesitating while you look to confirm your permission one last time.

“Sit, puppy,” he says through a smirk, and you release a sharp whimper as you sink down onto his cock. 

On instinct, you bury your face in the warm expanse of skin between Joel’s neck and shoulder, rolling your hips back in preparation for a satisfying buck forward. His grip on your skin turns iron, holding you in place and preventing you from chasing after your pleasure.

He cuts off your pout with a strict, “I say you could move?”

“Mmph– No, Daddy,” you mumble into his firm muscle.

He huffs a mocking breath through his nose. “Really are jus’ a dumb lil’ thing for me, ain’t you? You already forget what you’re ‘sposed to be learnin’?” “‘M sorry, Daddy–” the embarrassment from his demeaning words makes you squirm, and his grip on you becomes bruising.

“Don’t need you to be sorry. Jus’ need you to listen. You’re gonna wait like a good girl ‘til I say you can start grindin’ that messy lil’ puppy cunt on me. We clear?” he orders, his deep baritone traveling straight from your ear to your needy core, the dark thatch of hair at the base of his cock already damp as a result.

You hug yourself closer to him, little fingers clawing at his t-shirt in an attempt to ground yourself, and nod meekly.

“Speak,” he spits again.

“Y-yes, Daddy, clear…”, you whine, managing to lift your head up just enough for your voice to come out a little more coherently.

“If I let go so I can finish up my work, you gonna behave and hold still for me?” 

You don’t seem to have a choice, but you agree, anyway. “Mhm, yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl. Now wait,” Joel instructs.

You aren’t sure how much time passes, the incessant clicks and clacks of Joel’s keyboard and mouse becoming more and more irritating with each passing second. Those sharp mechanical sounds, the vibration of his chest against yours whenever he clears his throat, the feeling of his pulsing cock as it splits you in two, it’s all so fucking much. You can’t help but release little whimpers and whines, pathetic pleases and Daddys that he either shushes or chooses to ignore. Any slight movement you make in an attempt to relieve some of the ache, he just responds to with a coo of wait, pup, and the tone of his commands as you twitching, clenching around him, soaking his cock more and more. It has to have been at least fifteen or twenty minutes by now, and at this point you’re sure he must be clicking around his desktop aimlessly just to drag out your training a bit longer.

Eventually, the noises stop, and Joel breathes a sigh as he replaces his large hands on your hips, their touch much more gentle this time. You lift your head from his shoulder to face him, wide and watery doe eyes frantically searching his face for a sign that the wait is over, that you’ve finally earned your treat. 

He grants you a soft smile, lifting a hand and using it to just barely grasp your chin, tilting your head side to side as he admires you.

“Got such a sweet girl in my lap, don’t I? Knew she could be good, just needed a lil trainin’ hm?”

You nod, already feeling so overwhelmed that your mind has started to drift elsewhere, to the relief you’ll hopefully be feeling in just a few minutes, after he’s finished toying with you.

He releases your chin, ghosting his hand downwards along the column of your throat, stopping when his thumb and fingers are resting on the tops of your collarbones. He doesn’t apply any pressure, just admires the placement of his hand for a moment, then hums.

“Neck would look so pretty with a collar wrapped around it, don’t you think, pup? With a lil’ heart-shaped tag danglin’ from it, engraved with my name so everyone knows that you belong to me? That you’re my puppy, hm?”

Fuck.

The sentiment alone, the domination and ownership of it all, has you crying out your most pathetic noise so far this morning, eyebrows peaked with need as you bite down on your lip so hard you think you might’ve drawn blood. Joel predicts your reaction, clamping down on your hip with his other hand to stop you from moving before he’s decided you’re allowed to.

Again, you nod, willing to agree to anything and everything he wants from you if it means you’re getting closer to getting what you want from him, what you need.

“Say it, baby,” Joel demands of you, his voice calm but commanding.

You tilt your head at him, humming a confused little noise, but he doesn’t elaborate. “Say it, c’mon,” he repeats. Your foggy brain is on a second or two delay, but it catches up eventually, and you realize what he wants to hear.

“I’m y-your… ‘m your puppy,” you say, softly, your voice tinted with embarrassment. 

“Wha’s that, sweetheart? Didn’t quite hear you. One more time for Daddy.”

You swallow hard, inhaling a shuddering breath before repeating the phrase a little louder, with a little less control. “I’m your p-puppy, Daddy. I’m your puppy, ‘m Daddy’s–”

“Yeah, y’ are, fuck.”

He moves his hand from the base of your neck back to your hip, and uses his strong grip to hold you still while he begins a series of sharp but rewarding thrusts in and out of your swollen cunt, each one seeming to hit deeper and deeper inside you. Falling against him once more, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and bury your face into him while you let him fuck into you like a doll. His movements are quick and desperate as he growls an incoherent string of filthy praises in your ear, his words accompanied by the sloppy wet sounds of skin on skin.

“Perfect girl, Christ, tight lil’ puppy pussy feels so fuckin’ good, always feels so fuckin’ good. Such a good girl, such a good goddamn girl for Daddy.”

The harsh bounce of your body in his lap jostles every last one of your thoughts from your brain, and he relishes in the animalistic cries and yelps you mumble into the flesh of your upper arm, now damp with your drool. He must feel the moisture as it pools underneath your face and wets the thin fabric of his t-shirt, because then he’s laughing at you, spewing more obscene words at you as he spears you up and down on his cock.

“Shit, are you fuckin’ droolin’ on me, sweetheart? Got this messy cunt and that pretty mouth both soakin’ me, Christ. This cock make you that dumb, hm? You Daddy’s dumb puppy?”

You are, you both fucking know you are, so you agree and repeat it back to him to the best of your fucked-out ability because you know it’s what he wants to hear. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to hear it too, the self-degradation lighting your whole body on fire as some of that heat forms itself into a tight ball in your tummy. 

Joel’s hips begin to stutter, his hold on you starting to falter, complete sentences turning into sharply whispered expletives as he nears his orgasm. He can feel you squeezing around him, notices the telltale sign of your muscles tightening and your breathing coming out in short bursts, and uses that four letter word against you one last time.

“Not yet, babygirl, don’t you fuckin’ come for me, not ‘til I say. Wait,” he spits through gritted teeth.

You were so ready, just teetering on the edge of your orgasm, all you needed was a few more jackhammering thrusts and you’d be careening down the steep cliff of it. It takes everything in you to hold it in, to not let go. But you’ve been so good for him, and Joel doesn’t have it in him to torture you much longer, and he permits you to finish just a few minutes later.

“Alright, come, puppy, come for Daddy,” he orders, and you spasm in his lap with a debauched cry, that ball of heat in your tummy dispersing through your bloodstream, igniting every one of your nerves and sending sparks flying behind your eyelids. He reaches his high at the same time, spilling his release inside of you the way you both like.

It takes a few moments for the both of you to come back into yourselves, heaving chests eventually matching each other in a more relaxed rhythm. Joel softly scratches at the back of your head while you place delicate kisses mindlessly along his neck and up behind his ear.

“You were so good, sweetheart. Always take everything I give you so well,” Joel quietly praises next to your ear. He touches his lips to the side of your head, then your temple, then gently maneuvers your face so that he can press a final kiss to your forehead. Your eyelids flutter open in response, and your lips tug into a sleepy grin as you focus on his face. “There she is, my beautiful girl.” He sweeps a few tangled locks of hair away from your face, and even though you know you must look like a mess, you let him admire you anyway.

“Still up to go out for some lunch? After we get ourselves cleaned up ‘n all,” Joel asks, shifting his gaze down to where his spend leaks from you, staining both of your clothes a darker color and dripping onto the fabric of his desk chair.

You pause, chewing on the inside of your cheek for a bit before shaking your head.

“No? Tha’s alright, sweet girl, don’t blame you one bit. You’ll still let Daddy get you cleaned up though, won’t you sweetheart? How’s about I run you a bath with some o’ that new flowery bubble bath you just got, hm?”

You light up at the premise, nodding eagerly, and Joel flashes his handsome smile at you in return. “Alright, hang onto me, baby,” he says, and you wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders as he scoops you up and carries you to the bedroom, his softening cock still nestled inside you. The two of you detach when he sets you down on the small, handmade wooden bench adjacent to the tub, and leaves only for a moment to retrieve your favorite pink blanket from the living room. He wraps it around your shoulders when he returns, and starts the bath for you. He makes sure to squeeze a generous amount of the bubble bath into the roaring stream of water, ensuring that the bath is sufficiently fragrant and relaxing.

When the tub is full, with mounds of white soap bubbles threatening to spill over the smooth porcelain walls, he helps you strip out of your clothes, tugging your bottoms down your legs as you remove your own top over your head. Joel offers you one of his hands to steady yourself with as you step into the bath and lower yourself into the steaming water. It feels perfect, because just like he knows exactly how you take your coffee, how you want to be fucked without you having to ask, he also knows the almost-too-hot temperature of bathwater you prefer. 

He allows you to wash your own body, while he uses the cup you keep by the tub to douse your hair with water, using his rough fingertips to massage your favorite coconut shampoo into your scalp. You’re almost done scrubbing yourself by the time he’s raking conditioner through your damp ringlets, and then he’s rinsing you clean, the humid air in the room now smelling like a dozen different flowers and fruits, all of them mixing together to smell definitively like you. It’s his favorite scent in the whole world.

You don’t exchange many words during your bath, mostly enjoying the intimacy of the activity in silence. The action alone is enough to let you know how deeply the two of you care for each other, how much you trust and love each other.

When the water eventually runs cool, Joel helps you out of the slippery tub, and wraps you in one of your plush bath towels, a lighter shade of pink than your blanket, but just as soft.

“I’ll let you finish up in here, and I’ll see about orderin’ us some delivery, hm? I’ll get you whatever you want, and we can throw on a movie to watch while we eat, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds good, Daddy,” you reply, the bath leaving you feeling refreshed and more like yourself, able to find your voice again.

You settle on ordering your favorite fast food, and it arrives shortly before you tiptoe your way into the living room, your wet hair now pulled up into a clip while the rest of you is dry and comfortable, wrapped in a soft lounge set and your cozy blanket.

“There she is, the Poky Lil’ Puppy,” Joel teases, removing your containers of chicken tenders and fries from the plastic bag they arrived in, setting them on the coffee table in front of the couch.

You giggle at his quip, settling down on the cushion next to him. “I’m not… poky, or whatever,” you reply, in a tone of voice that isn’t sure if you’re supposed to feel complimented or offended.

He looks at you in minor disbelief for a second, then moves his head and brows in a gesture that suggests something like touché. “It’s the name of a kids’ book. Written a lil’ before your time, I guess.”

“Oh… I’ll take it, then.” You settle against Joel’s warm, sturdy form as you munch on a fry, watching the TV screen as he flips through the most promising of the half dozen streaming services he’s subscribed to. “You know…” you start, but let the rest of your sentence drift away, not sure if you want to continue.

“Yeah, babygirl?” he replies, and it encourages you to finish your thought.

“I really liked, um… what we did today. Earlier,” you continue, doing your best to push through your shyness in an effort to get better at communicating your desires with him.

Joel pauses his browsing, putting the TV remote on the table so he can meet your eyes. “In my office, you mean?”

You can’t help but smile cheekily at the memory. “Yeah… I really like being called… that, I think. And if you don’t think it’s too weird–”

“Course I don’t, sweetheart. Would never judge you for likin’ what you like. If it makes you happy, makes you feel good, if it ain’t hurtin’ anyone, then there’s nothin’ wrong with it, baby.” Joel’s turned his upper body to face you now, to make sure you understand the sincerity of his words.

You smile, and his reassurance gives you the confidence to continue. “I really like that… collar idea,” you admit softly. “Maybe we can try that next time.”

He tucks his tongue into the pocket of his cheek, his face forming into a satisfied expression. “Thought you might. Keep bein’ Daddy’s good girl, he just might get you one. Maybe a matchin’ leash, too, somethin’ to tug on when I need you to listen.”

Your eyelids perform their involuntary flutter, a quiet whimper escaping your lungs at the thought. 

“Alright, settle down now, baby,” Joel says through a chuckle, shaking his head before kissing the top of your head affectionately. “Got all the time in the world to try whatever we want. Just focus on eatin’ your lunch for now, sweetheart.”

You snuggle up close to him after he starts the movie you both decided on, happily eating your salty and savory meal as you watch. For the rest of the afternoon, you feel warm and satisfied for a few different reasons, the most important one due to how grateful you are to have Joel.

He takes care of you, understands you, and loves you like nobody else ever could. And it’s mornings like these that make you especially aware of that fact. You’ll be his good girl for as long as he wants you to be–forever, hopefully–and he’ll always give you exactly what you need in exchange for it. 

Even if that something might be a collar with his name on it, fit for his perfect little puppy.

tag list (no pressure if this one isn't your thing!!) @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw (if your name is crossed out it won't let me tag you!!)

[luffysinterlude]

GHOSTIN’

summary: in which Luffy’s been your sanctuary as you grieve the loss of your sworn-soulmate — his brother.

pairings: luffy x reader / ex!ace x reader | the request

warnings: post-marineford, one sided love, slight angst/comfort, reader grew up with ASL, no gendered terms

an: haiiii!!! i’ve been working on this on the side as i’ve been reading nana. i really didn’t know how to tackle this request + song with Luffy especially, but I really tried my best. please leave feedback, it’s always appreciated!! also, as always, there’s another a/n at the end ^.^

inspiration: ghostin’ | word count: 2.2K | tip jar!

“i’ll always find a way to protect you, promise .ᐟ

— GOL PORTGAS D. ACE”

PORTGAS D. ACE IS DEFINITELY, YOUR OTHER HALF. Some might call him your lover, but to you, it was more than that. You had known the hot-headed boy since you were two were children; some say your calm and quiet demeanor balanced him out, but was just as evil and devious, which you couldn’t help but agree with that. The two of you went around the village causing trouble for fun and sometimes you’d help him with his tasks in the mountains.

Ace has always been your ray of sunshine. With everything he’s gone through — which, you were a witness to — he’s still able to light a room up with a single conversation. Literally.

When Ace informed you that he finally got a devil fruit, you thought it might’ve been a God themself that handed the Mera-Mera no Mi to Ace, because still to this day, his presence remains the brightest and captivating —

even though he physically isn’t with you anymore.

It’s been almost two years since the day the Heavens took Ace back. Years that were full of utter silence in your world; the pain weighing heavy on your body and soul. You’ve remained under the watch of Shakky and Rayleigh, asking that you get to spend as much time with Luffy as possible; the last bit of Ace you have access to.

Following the War at Marineford, you had asked Rayleigh if it was okay for you to stick around. He agreed after recognizing who you were — a childhood friend to both Ace and Luffy — figuring you didn’t have anywhere safe to go anyway; you’ve become infamous due to Ace’s influence on you during your childhood, and with your reputation, you’re not sure of what consequences you’d face if you were even near pirates or marines.

You’ve been with Shakky the most during this time: her giving you haki training in exchange for you to help her out whenever she needs it. You can’t complain though. You enjoy the feeling of having a maternal figure in your life, especially right now. You’re unsure of how to control your emotions, and Shakky’s been helping you navigate through them, and use them to your benefit.

Luffy has too. Whether the rubber boy knows it or not, you appreciate his gimmicks whenever you get to visit him on training days. He always has a bright smile on his face when greeting you, your body grows with warmth every time he sees you; like right now, you feel like the heat has gotten ten times hotter, yet his embrace just feels so familiar and welcoming, you almost forget that you have to pull away.

“Hey! You said you’d visit me two days ago! I got finished with my training early and expected to see you, but Rayleigh said your plans changed! What happened?” His voice is loud yet soft, and the way he’s looking at you makes you feel guilty. You avoid his gaze immediately, the small smile you’d painted on your face fading.

You don’t like talking about Ace to Luffy. It’s been like this since the two of you were children, but especially now. You know he’s trying his best to keep your mind astray from the grief, and he’s been doing so, so good at that. But every now and then, Ace visits you as you sleep, and the following day is so hard, you want to be left alone.

ᯓ★

Luffy’s not stupid — or at least, he knows how to navigate his feelings. It’s what helped observation haki come easy to him, and instantly he feels your demeanor switch; the sun reflected in your eyes, then suddenly disappeared. He knows when you’re having a tough time. In fact, he thinks he knows everything about you.

He’d probably never find it in him to voice it, but somewhere along the way, he thinks he’s found love within you. Even with the entire ocean separating the two of you for years, the feeling only blooms at the thought of you. He thinks this is how Ace must’ve felt.

Without hesitating, he grabs your hand and drags you into the jungle that’s served as his temporary home for the past year and a half. These days the jungle is quiet, so Luffy’s able to spend more time in it without having to worry. Plus, he’s a hundred times stronger than he was when he first reunited with you.

He giggles at your confused and shocked state, wanting to tease you about how you’re not used to his antics at this point. Instead he just basks in your flushed expression, admiring the beauty that graces you.

ᯓ★

After the most unwanted and unexpected marathon of your life, Luffy stops. You’re barely able to process your surroundings when you’re suddenly flying. Screams leave your throat immediately, only for you to be situated on a branch seconds after.

Luffy sits next to you, his left arm wraps around your waist securely and he nestles his head into your shoulder blade; it’s almost as if he’s clinging onto you like a koala, all while you’re nearly dying to catch your breath. He’s always been this close and clingy, especially on days you’re quiet, but over the years, you’ve grown accustomed to it this trait of his.

Your breathing goes back to normal after a couple of moments, and soon your eyes find the boy staring up at you, eyes wide and curious, sending a gentle shiver down your spine.

“Sooooooo…you been thinkin’ about Ace?” Luffy’s bluntness is something you should be used to by now, but sometimes you wonder how his crew’s able to deal with it.

You sigh as you lean into him, staring out in front of you: the clear sky was painted a pretty shade of pinks and blues, the sun was saying its final goodbyes, and the ocean — a symbol of your will — sang peacefully as the two of you settled in each other’s presence.

“Yeah,” you breathed softly. “Ace visited me again, the other day — It was kind of sudden, he hadn’t done that for a while now.”

“Well did he say anything?” You don’t want to answer, but the way he’s looking at you has your chest fill with warmth.

ᯓ★

Ace lays next to you in the sand, his gaze fixated on yours as his fingertips softly grazed the features of your face. It was silent as it always was, and you felt yourself relaxing into his touch. Although it was all in your head, it felt so real. As if the two of you were just taking a vacation, without a care in the world.

And for the first time in a long time, Ace’s voice reaches your ears.

“Ya know, Luffy’s always had a thing for you,” You’re taken back and your brows furrow in confusion. Ace has never actually talked to you in your dreams, so for this to be the first time makes you question your sanity. “He always asked me about you whenever we were kids. He never wanted to do things unless you were there to watch him. He cried whenever you leave. I always thought he was just overly dramatic, but even now, as I watch him, his eyes water.

He’s hoping to ask you to join his crew,” Ace pauses to chuckle, a sound that you had almost forgotten. You bite your tongue as you feel your eyes water, not wanting to move incase you’d wake up. “The boy asked me for advice. Mentioned the times you’ve denied him before, when we were kids, asking on how and what he could do to get you to join him.

He believes in himself more than ever now, and he told me he feels like he owes you something for not only taking care of him, but Sabo and I as well. I always thought it was a weird-one sided obsession, but then thought about how I feel the same way about you too. Like a treasure that must be protected — even though you’ve done well on your own already. I used to think you were a witch.” You roll your eyes at his nickname for you, slowly processing what he’s telling you.

“I’m not asking you to date him or anything — But I think you should consider joining the Strawhats. They’re promising, and I believe you’d make their crew so much stronger. Now that I’m gone, who’ll watch over my crazy little brother? If only Sabo was here, then maybe I’d have him do it instead of asking you — but you’ve always been the best of taking care of us, and Luffy’s attached to you. He’ll listen to your insight, because he thinks you’re the smartest person in the world. I agree, but only because I’m not on Earth anymore.” You scoff at his self-compliment, knowing it was just something to tease you about, but appreciating the fact that the boys always knew you were the smartest of the bunch. You roll on your side to face him, eyes widening when you notice he’s staring you straight in the eye.

He looks like the same hot-headed boy that left you those years ago. As if he was seventeen again, waving a see-you-later to you and Luffy as the ocean carried him and his tiny boat away. Nothing’s changed since then, even when you’d run into him at ports when you were venturing the sea as well.

“Again, you don’t have to feel any kind of those feelings towards him, but I think Luffy will help you ease the pain and eventually grow from it. If anything, he looks up to me. Find me in him if it helps. I’ll watch over the two of you and try my best to help you both out, but for now, please enjoy your youth and life for me — surrounded by love. You have so much to live for and so much willpower. You’ve always been the epitome of freedom to us, so please go and enjoy it.

I won’t visit you for a while now. I’ll let you go and handle business. But please, as always, be safe. Don’t go crashing out on everyone now. I love you, thank you for allowing me to grow with you.

I’m sorry that time and distance separated us, and I’ll make sure you’re always protected, just as I promised.”

You’re silent as he just smiles at you, words wanting to spill from your lips, but none of them feeling right. Your bottom lip wobbles as you stare at his face and features, blinking tears away so you can engrave his face into your brain.

“You know how to get to me; I’ll always be here for you. I’ll see ya later, hot stuff. Can’t wait to watch what trouble you make happen.”

ᯓ★

You sigh as you bring yourself back to reality, breathing in the air surrounding the two of you. It was fresh, the breeze was nice, and the sea remained humming her song quietly.

“Well, he might’ve let it slip that someone wants me to be apart of their crew,” you tease, feeling the boy suddenly jolt.

He chuckles nervously as he rubs the back of his head awkwardly, clearly not expecting to be outed by his own brother. “Huh?” He feigns innocence, “Well who?”

You roll your eyes and raise your brow, arms crossed as you stared at him, challenging his gaze to see if he breaks. When he doesn’t, you decide to mess with him.

“Shanks,” you tease; you’d met the infamous Red-Haired pirates around the same time Luffy did, and he was your first ever haki teacher. Although it was a small lie to tell, it wasn’t hard for Luffy to believe it.

His expression fell dramatically, his voice whiney as he pouted and looked towards the sky.

“ACE, YOU DIDN’T TELL ME THAT SHANKS ALREADY BEAT ME!” You giggled as the Luffy sent curses up to the Heavens, silently hoping none of the Gods cursed you for Luffy’s outburst. You grabbed his hands suddenly, and for a split second, shivers went down your spine. He turned and looked at you, an unreadable expression on his face that almost looked like regret.

“Hey, hey,” you coo to him. You’d always comfort Luffy after his brothers would tease him, and over time Luffy’s grown to love your touch and words. “‘M just teasin’. He told me that you were hoping I’d join your crew. Honestly?” His fingers intertwine with yours as he patiently waits for you to finish your thoughts; his hands are warm and soft, despite his constant training, the way they’ve always been. The way he’s always been. “I’ll do it, if it means I can help you reach your goals. I told you I’d see you off as pirate king when we were younger, didn’t I?”

Luffy gasps and wraps his arms around you tightly, burying his face in your shoulder. The sudden embrace takes you by surprise, and you feel his mouth moving but you’re unsure of what he’s saying. You welcome his embrace, thinking of all that’s happened since Marineford. Luffy’s been with you since, helping you grow stronger and stray your mind away from what you’ve lost. He’s been doing so well — he makes you laugh about the stupidest things, he’d always defend you from the former monsters of this jungle, he tells you stories from his adventures and you do the same. These past few months, it’s gotten easier to accept and let go of the grief, thanks to him.

“Promise I’ll make it worth it for ya! Thanks for trusting me! Took you such a long time to say yes,” he says as he pulls away from you, smile accompanying his lovely facial features. “We’ll have so much fun! You remember the crew, right? From that time in Alabasta?”

As you and Luffy sit and escape the world around you, you feel a new excitement grow in you. You’re just as ready as he is to reunite with everyone, even if you weren’t a Stawhat before this. For the first time in a long time, you feel free. You don’t feel this way because Ace let you go, but because he pushed you to finding your freedom. And all you can do now is live and hope to achieve all that’s waiting for you.

ᯓ★

an: i’m thinking about a part two because this felt more like it was centered around Ace and Reader’s relationship T^T. but honestly i wouldn’t mind. plus i think reader might subconsciously love Luffy the way he loves them. so maybe i will write a part two to satisfy myself, idk. it’s been a while since i’ve written and have been able to get any creativity out of my body, thanks to work 😻. anyway, please do leave your feed back!!! i’ll enjoy it. thank you so much for reading!!

[achilles-rage]

NSFW Alphabet

word count: 2.0k

A/N: hi besties<333 this is my first time writing so pls don’t absolutely tear me to shreds (just a little bit is acceptable though). i’m planning on making a SFW alphabet for buck soon as well but some of the letters had me drawing a blank lol. also, although there’s not really much mention of it, this is with a plus size reader in mind. as a plus size girly myself, it sucks to read x reader stories and knowing in the back of your mind that it wasn’t written with your body type in mind (although there’s nothing wrong with writers that do that of course). i just thought i would add to the plus size reader community because there are barely any buck fics and i believe in my heart that he loves plus size women. anyway, enjoy <3

warnings: smut (obviously lol), no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

MDNI- 18+ Only

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

When y’all finish he’ll wait a few minutes before pulling out, head buried in your neck as his breathing gets back to normal. He’ll kiss your neck and tell you how good you were for him, before finally getting up to clean you up. After that he wants to lay with you and talk, just enjoying each other’s company, maybe y’all will make some food if you feel like it.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His: Probably his arms. He’s worked hard to be as fit as he is and he enjoys using his arms to move you/lift you while you’re having sex. He takes pride in his appearance, he knows he’s hot, but it’s an added bonus that he can lift you up and do whatever he (or you) wants.

Yours: I am of the firm belief that Evan Buckley is a thigh man. He loves how they feel in his hands, he loves how they look when you straddle him, he can’t get enough. He loves to see them jiggle when you move, or when he playfully smacks them. He loves thick thighs and I will die on this hill

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This man has a BREEDING KINK OKAY!!! He loves to cum inside you, fucking deep into you and feeling his cum fill you up. He loves watching it slowly dripping out, so he can finger it back in. If that’s not your thing I think the next best place would be on your stomach, watching your face as he lets go, seeing the way he marks you up. He loves your little tummy, how it moves as he ruts into you, so he loves it when you let him cum all over it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I only call this a dirty secret because he would never tell anyone about this after the last time it happened and he got fired. He wants to fuck you in the fire engine SO BAD. He can’t help but think of the way you would look as he fucked into you quickly, trying not to get caught with your dress up around your waist. He knows it’s not gonna happen, he’d never hear the end of it from anyone in his life if it did, but god he wants to so bad.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Girl have we watched the same show?? This man FUCKS!!! We all know (and love) Buck 1.0, and we know he knows what to do. Buck 3.0 might mean him changing into, well, not a sex addict, but that doesn’t mean he forgot his training (🫡). I think he understands that every woman is different, and while he might not get it exactly right the first time, he’s a fast and eager learner, watching what exactly makes you squirm and moan the most for him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Canonically, Buck LOVES when you ride him, and I agree. He loves to watch you move yourself on him, able to grab at your thighs, and your hips, and your chest. He also loves to move you on him, squeezing your hips tightly as he sets the pace if you start getting tired or if he just feels like it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I mean, he’s Buck, he’s truly a golden retriever of a man and cannot stay serious for long. I think he’s a bit of a mix, he can be serious in the moment, but at the end of the day, he’s still Buck, and Buck is silly goofy.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps it nicely trimmed, carpets match the drapes. In terms of his partner, he really doesn’t give a fuck. He’s seen it all and could not care less as long as he feels the way you wrap around him so perfectly.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Buck 3.0 is a man of TASTE, but that being said, I think he only really pulls out the romance during special occasions. Most of the time this man wants to freak nasty, but sometimes when he’s tired, or just feels especially in cuddly/clingy, he’ll be more romantic.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He does it pretty often, of course not when he has the option to fuck you instead (and you’re willing, of course), but if you’re not with him and he needs a quick release, he getting right to it.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding: I will scream this till the day that I die, this man wants a family more than anything. Whenever he’s inside of you, he can’t help but think about how pretty you’d look with your belly all round with his babies.

Praise: Look at this pathetic little guy, he needs to be praised, he thrives on it. He loves to hear how good he feels, how good he’s making you feel. This goes both ways. He’s in your ear immediately telling you how good you feel, how well you’re taking him, how pretty you look.

Spanking: HEAR ME OUT!! While I’m not sure he would actually bend you over his knee (but honestly the more I think about it he might) he would LOVE to give your ass a nice little swat as you’re riding him. He loves the sound it makes, and the sound you make because you’re not expecting it. I don’t think he’d ever do it hard enough to hurt too much, but I think enough to make your ass a little red would definitely be something he could get behind (lol).

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He doesn’t have a ring cutter in the kitchen for nothing<3

I think he likes to have sex at home the most, on the bed, on the couch, on the kitchen counter. You name it, he wants to fuck you there. His favourite is the counter because he loves seeing you being so domestic in the kitchen. Making dinner, cleaning up, whatever, he wants you right then and there and cannot wait. He’ll come up behind you, wrapping his arms around you as he kisses your neck before slowly turning you around to face him and lift you onto the counter to have his way with you.

While he’s moved on from having sex in public places that could (will) get him fired, he’s still into it, but in less obvious places. If y’all are in his car and you’re looking a little too good in his passenger seat, he loves an empty parking lot quickie. Front seat, back seat, whatever you want, he’d be pulling you onto him as soon as he puts the jeep in park.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Girl ANYTHING gets him going, it would take one look, one touch, one word and this man would be ready to go. I think what really gets him going though is seeing you with kids or getting along so well with the 118. This man truly just wants a silly little family and someone that can get along with the 118fam, so seeing you like that has him making up a stupid excuse to leave a little early so he can take you home and have his hands all over you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Like I said before, I don’t think he would do anything to hurt you too much, other than the occasional light spanking or biting. He would also not be into any kind of age play or pet play, he’s pro kink but it’s just not for him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

This man is a giver and I stand by this. Dear god he loves nothing more than having you spread open for him, hands tangled in his hair as he makes himself at home between your thighs. He loves having his hands gripping your thick thighs, feeling them on either side of his head. When you start to get squirmy from the overstimulation he’ll place a large hand over your lower stomach, holding you still as he pushes you over the edge again.

With all that said, he will definitely not say no to getting head. He loves seeing you look up at him while you’re on your knees, trying to take all of him. He’ll keep a hand in your hair, pulling it softly every now and then, and he can’t help but moan and whine as he gets closer and closer, eventually cumming down your throat as he squeezes his eyes shut.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on the day, but most of the time he likes it rough and fast. He loves a good quickie, meaning it kinda has to be more fast paced and rough, and he’s pretty easy to get riled up, so when you drop any sort of hint, he’s on you immediately and ready. On other days where he’s feeling extra clingy and lovey, he’ll be more of a slow and sensual guy, but I think for the most part he loves to fuck you deep and rough.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Like I said, he loves a good quickie. A lot of the time he craves a quickie before work, needing to feel you before his long shift. I think they happen pretty often, but he’d much rather take his time with you, using his fingers and mouth before he fucks you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

As long as there’s clear communication he’s down to try pretty much anything, he’ll do anything to make you happy (within reason). I think he’s also a risk taker (also within reason, he has to think about not getting fired again, of course). Buck 1.0 is still inside him somewhere when it comes to sex so he definitely loves a little risk, but he’s grown enough to know where the line is.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

While he would love to go as many rounds as possible, I think it would realistically be 2-3, lasting about 10-15 minutes each round. I think he would be the type to like having some time between rounds, tension still high as you talk and lay around before he's back on you again.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Once again, he doesn’t have a ring cutter in his kitchen for nothing<3

He likes them, he definitely owns a few toys of his own. Vibrators, cock rings, some handcuffs or restraints, he’s very open to anything that increases y’alls pleasure.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He does it sometimes not really meaning to, like he does something and you’re like….dear god…and maybe he doesn’t notice the first time but the second time he does and WILL keep going until you snap. He loves the way you get all squirmy and whiny and desperate for him, knowing you want him as much as he wants you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

So vocal!!!! Literally that meme thats like “y’all afraid to make noise in the bedroom?? i be in my girls ear like…” He loves dirty talk (on both ends) and he can’t help but let out low moans when you’re clenching around him. He also loves hearing your breathless whimpers, making him feel like he’s doing a good job, and encouraging him to pull more sounds from your lips.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

If he was in a relationship during the whole sperm donor thing, it would be the longest few weeks for both of y’all. I imagine the first time he has an appointment, you make sure you’re waiting for him in a cute little matching set, knowing how excited he was to finally be buried inside you again, hearing you whine as he fills you up. He’s so frustrated when his appointment doesn’t work out that he doesn’t let you know how it went, instead being unpleasantly surprised when he sees you sprawled out on his bed when you get home and unable to do anything about it. He wants nothing more than to rip your pretty little set off your body and run his hands up and down your soft curves, but he can’t, and it’s torture. You apologize (but he will hear none of it because it was a lovely surprise, just shitty circumstances), and instead you change into an oversized shirt and sweatpants to enjoy a completely normal (and not sexual at all) night on the couch.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

8 inches, thick, no complaints <3

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

HIGH!!! This man is thinking about sex 24/7, and if he could, his hands would be on you at all times.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Most of the time I think he stays up for a while, just hanging out and talking to you. But if he comes home after a long shift he’s fucking GONE in 5 minutes tops.

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

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[urfavlarry]

SBG characters getting caught making out with their s/o

warnings: making out, bad grammar, swearing

A/N: If you haven’t read part I, go read that as well!! :D and also if you want a part III with any other characters i’ll make one (I won’t do Logan cuz tbh I think he just wouldn’t do that kind of stuff)

Part I Part II

Ben Clark

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Yall would be at his house in his room when Aiden just randomly barges in cuz Aiden is just wild

You would have to be the one to initiate the make out probably cuz I believe he’s pretty shy when doing these things

You would guide him but once he gets it it’s like he is EXPERIENCED

Heaven fr

You would have music in the background

I really think ben would be into like System of a down or korn

You wouldn’t hear him over the music so um that would he a bit awkward

Ben would probably notice and quickly pull away

You would just look at Aiden with a pissed expression and flip him off haha

Yall would NOT be doing that ever again (at least not at his house)

Ashlyn Banner

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Yall would definitely not get caught tbh

She had great hearing after all

She would hear the person coming 5 minutes early HAHA

Would just go and lock the door like “bitch you ain’t disturbing me and my s/o”

Let’s say she didn’t have her super hearing and blah blah blah yeah how would that go?

She would yell at the person tbh and then she would just huff when they leave and ramble to you on how stupid that person is

“I swear some people need to learn how to knock like it’s a great invention.”

“Calm down honey it’s—”

“Don’t fucking honey me.”

“You know you love it.”

tsundere-ish type

IDK WHY SHE JUST GIVES THAT KIND OF VIBEEE

Would definitely be at least a bit of embarrassed

Just give her some kisses and call her pet names I believe she would melt haha

Barron

(if anyone knows his last name let me know)

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OKAY YALL HEAR ME OUT

Ik he bullies Logan but his design is just 🙏🛐

On my knees fr (i might have a type)

Anyway! You guys would be somewhere at the arcade with his friends probably and he would just call you to the back of the arcade where ppl smoke

He would flirt with you sm, kissing from your forehead, down to your jawline and then neck

Tbh I think he would be a bit experienced with this shit

Would be a pretty good kisser like a solid 8/10

Would fr pin you against a wall and all that kind of shit when one of his friends wanted to go smoke and saw you guys

Barron would fr kiss you deeper like he ain’t ashamed of you tf

Would just flip the guy off while kissing you

His friend knew better then to stay and quickly went back inside, deciding it was a good day to save his lungs LMAO

“Barron um, he.. kind of saw us?”

“What? Am I not allowed to make out with my s/o?”

“But I thought you—”

“I’m not ashamed of you, you’re gorgeous~ Let them be jealous.”

Barron you fucking bi—

He would rub it in when you guys come back to the group

He have your hand in his or a hand on your waist

Would kiss your cheek in front of his friends (would fr be smirking at the mf that interrupted you)

Just Barron doing Barron things

[shoutosbaeby]

THE LETHAL FACE CARD…?????

Anyway I think ppl liked the last one so I have some Shoto x female reader headcanons for u :D

The slightly nsfw ones are aged up headcanons so minors DNI !!!

SWEET/CUTE

- Gives the best comfort hugs. He’s warm on his left side as well so it just adds to it. If you ever need a shoulder to cry on, he’s there.

- Loves giving you forehead kisses and pecks that go up from your collarbone to your jawline. He’d leave sweet marks on your neck sometimes. But he’d do it affectionately, you know?

- Isn’t good at cooking but if you’re ever on your period and you’re craving something, he’s go out and get it for you. (Might threaten Katsuki or Sato into making it but that’s a last resort) He would also reassure you constantly that he doesn’t mind and understands that periods are completely normal. He also uses his left hand as a heating pad for your belly if you ever get cramps <3

- He’s very accommodating. He’ll sleep on whichever side of the bed that you like, watch whatever shows or movies you want with you, play any video game you choose and read every single book recommendation you give him. He’ll adjust to whatever you prefer and doesn’t mind letting you choose most of the time.

- Not very affectionate through words. It actually takes him a really long time to say “I love you.” But it’s so obvious that he loves you just from everything he does for you. His love languages are acts or service and giving gifts !! He has your favorite things memorized.

- Very laid back and chill so he doesn’t get jealous most of the time. But he draws the line if someone touches you.

- He actually gives you a lot of attitude (that’s just who he is) but knows when to stop. If you have a bad day you won’t hear a single teasing word from him until you’re feeling better.

- Talking about bad days, he always makes them better. You could be exhausted and stressed out after a long day and Shoto would get you one of your favorite snacks and watch whatever show you want with you to make you feel better. Or he’d just hold you until you fall asleep.

- During winter, you sleep on his left and during summer you sleep on his right.

- Loves to see you in his clothes because they look so huge on you and he finds it adorable.

ANGSTY/SAD

- Sometimes he has days where a trauma response will take over and he wouldn’t like it when people touch him. It lasts a few days and only happens when he gets stressed out or his PTSD reacts badly to something. But even if he doesn’t want to be touched, your presence comforts him more than anything.

- When he has nightmares, he’ll wrap his arms around you from behind and stay awake for the rest of the night. You’re the only thing that keeps him grounded during that time.

- Whenever you both argue, he’s terrified that he’ll do something. Even though he would never do anything like his father did. He’s scared that he’ll end up that way and ends up avoiding you sometimes because of that thought. But some communication and a few hugs can always solve the issue <3

SLIGHTLY NSFW (Aged up Shoto and I’m keeping it short because idk how to write stuff like this.)

- Covers you in hickeys. Absolutely loves seeing you marked up after a long night.

- Clever with his fingers.

- Very few words are spoken, but he gets things done for sure.

- The best aftercare in the world.

- Doesn’t have the highest drive, but it goes up when he starts. (Ifykwim)

- Will make sure to absolutely wreck you every single time <33

THAT WAS SO AWKWARD TO WRITE I NEED TO IMPROVE AT THIS 😭😭😭

Anyways hope u liked -3-

[lucifersdickriderdotnet]

Sick and Tired

Summary: you can't say that anything about having a chronic illness is fun, but at least you have friends who care about you. 2.7k words

Disclaimer: GENDER NEUTRAL READER I wrote this in one go at like 3am. So. All of the brothers are in this but it's more platonic than anything else? If you want you can read it as romance because I did imagine kissing several of them on the mouth while writing it. also shout out to the author on ao3 that called Asmo "Momo" and then pointed out that it means "peach" in japanese. I did steal that nickname. lmk if it was you though bc I will credit you.

Notes: This is based on my own personal experience with a mystery disease that has been plaguing me since I hit puberty. I'm going to be very real, I wrote this for myself as a way to cope because I got #sad. it sucks, for sure, but there are some things that make it more bearable and isn't that how life works anyways?

The cool thing about being a human in what is essentially hell is that when diseases happen, you are more or less immune to them. The bad part about being a human in what is essentially hell is that you’re human and it’s essentially hell. Because of this, there are some things that you’ve had to explain to your housemates, or to an overeager Diavolo, or to a concerned Luke. You had to talk Lucifer down from renovating the whole House to put in an elevator because he was ��worried about your flimsy human joints.”

“I have bad joints, regardless.” You remember saying, “I’m a human, it comes with the territory. Don’t put an elevator in the House, I don’t like them anyway.”

You’ve had to explain that while you’re grateful that they managed to find vitamin D supplements, they’re meant to be just that, a supplement to spending time in the sun, something the Devildom doesn’t have. So while your symptoms have been alleviated, they have not been fixed. Levi fixed this by buying you something like a heat lamp.

“Where did you even find this?” You’d said after he’d forced you underneath it.

“You’re gonna hate the words that are going to come out of my mouth.” His hands stilled from where they were busy attaching it to the wall by your bed.

“Just tell me.”

“Some demons used to, emphasis on ‘used to’, own humans as pets. So they made these little lamps to mimic the sun or whatever.” You blink at him, rapid fire before shrugging a little.

“Humans used to own each other.” He turns his head to gape at you like a fish.

“What?”

“Yeah it was a whole thing. There are still lasting repercussions that echo through our modern society.”

“That’s insane.”

“I thought I told you before that human cruelty knows no bounds.”

Solomon of course, is no help, because while he may be human, he is old. You’d complained of jaw pain once, something about your teeth aching.

“It might be a demon.” He’d said this confidently at the one dinner a month he’s allowed to have with the brothers. As per the dating-Asmo-agreement he made with Lucifer.

“It might be a what?” Satan’s head whipped towards Solomon so fast you thought he broke something.

“A demon. Tooth pain is caused by little demons in the teeth.” You stared at him like he grew a second head.

“No, it’s not. It’s caused by bacteria eating away at your teeth. And that’s just for cavities. This could be something completely different. Also, I don’t think humans have believed the demon teeth thing in forever. God, you’re old.” Your frustrated rebuttal of Solomon’s “wisdom” had not stopped the brothers from checking you up and down for curses or signs of possession.

So, for the most part. It’s fine, and you don’t mind explaining these things to them just like they don’t mind explaining demon culture to you. This though, you’ve never been able to explain to anyone, so you can’t explain it to them either.

—

“I’m so tired,” it’s noon and you woke up from sleeping two hours earlier. Asmo has dragged you out of the house for some shopping spree, and while you were excited to go, your energy levels have quickly depleted.

“But darling! We just started!” Despite saying this, he’s walking towards the register with the clothes he’s decided he likes, willing to cut his trip short if it’s for you. You shake your head.

“No, no, keep shopping. I’m always tired, Peach.” He hums and goes back to perusing the shelves while you stay seated by the dressing room for his mini fashion shows.

You don’t just get tired while hanging out with Asmo, it happens everywhere. Beel has to catch your head when you almost faceplant into your lunch. You spend a Devildom History class fighting to keep your eyes open while Satan takes twice the amount of notes as usual so you don’t fall behind. Levi asks you to watch a special livestream of a Sucre Frenzy concert and you have to sit down halfway through because you’re suddenly dizzy. You even fall tired while driving Mammon’s car, once.

He’d been in the passenger seat, fretting over your every move, and you’d understood despite the fact that it was incredibly annoying. This car was his baby, something he was incredibly proud of, something he worked hard to get. Still, having someone freak out over your driving usually makes it worse.

You’d been gently reassuring him of your skills when you felt it, the familiar pull of your eyelids, the way your brain seemed to slow down. It takes you a second longer than it should to register the red light and you have to slam on the brakes to avoid running it. It’s not too soon after that when you decide to pull over and have Mammon drive you home. You fall asleep on the way back.

—

This all comes to a head when you manage to outsleep Belphie.You aren’t sure how you did it, honestly. You went to bed on Friday afternoon and vaguely remember being woken up because a meal was ready. You remember making some sort of affirmative noise and then going back to sleep. You have hazy memories of stumbling to the bathroom and chugging down bottles of water, but mostly it was just sleep. Then, Belphie is shaking you awake. He’s saying something you can’t quite hear and Beel is picking you up and carrying you to the living room and the lights are so bright it turns your brain back on.

“Belphie, did you do somethin’?” It’s Mammon’s voice, accusatory. Someone pokes your cheek.

“So you kill a guy once and suddenly everything that happens to them is your fault?” His reply makes you snort.

“Did you or not?”

“No. This is… this is something else.” He sighs and then one of your eyelids is being manually opened so he can make eye contact with you before he lets go and your head drops slightly. “I know what my sin feels like. I know what Sloth feels like. It’s a choice, mostly. It’s the action of choosing to do nothing rather than something. This is something else. Something completely different.” You yawn and scrub at your eyes, finally opening them to stare at your posse.

“Did I get a fanclub while I was napping?”

“You’ve always had a fanclub,” Levi says quietly.

“Napping? You call that a nap?” Asmo pokes your cheek and you assume he’s the one who did it the first time.

“How do you know they have a fanclub?” Satan turns his head to Levi and his brother turns a bright shade of red.

“I’m the president.” He says. Beel raises his hand.

“I’m VP. We hold meetings every Wednesday. Lucifer pretends it’s stupid but he’s always in the club room ‘doing student council work’.”

“Can we get back to the matter at hand?” Lucifer finally interjects, not wanting to deal with his brothers’ needling. Satan grumbles something about him being a loser under his breath. “Are you aware of how long you were asleep for?”

“I mean, I dunno,” you stretch your arms above your head and almost hit someone in the face. “I remember someone coming to me about dinner, so probably a while. Why?” Lucifer sighs and rubs a hand down his face.

“It’s Sunday afternoon.” You stare at him blankly.

“This is the worst joke you’ve ever told.”

“I am not joking,” he says and Levi shoves his D.D.D under your nose. Sure enough it says that today, the day you are finally awake, is Sunday. It says that it’s 2pm. You’ve slept for almost a full 48 hours. The thought brings tears to your eyes immediately and Levi freaks out.

“No wait, don’t cry. I don’t know what to do when you cry!” His hands are flapping around your face uselessly and it makes you laugh and choke on a wet sob.

“You can back the fuck up, for starters.” Satan bodily pushes his brothers out of the way to get to you, placing a box of tissues on your lap and sitting next to you. Not close enough to touch, but enough so you know he’s there.

“Sorry,” you take a tissue and blow your nose. Beel holds out a trashcan and Asmo pretends not to be disgusted. It’s sweet. “Crying in front of people is so cringe.”

“Being vulnerable and crying is not something you should be ashamed of,” Lucifer says and it’s weird to have your own words parroted back at you.

“Why’re you apologizin’ anyway? ‘S not like you did anythin’ wrong. We’re just worried is all.” Mammon runs a hand over your hair as he says it before remembering himself and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Because it’s never been this bad before. I’ve never slept for damn near two days.”

“So this is a recurring problem?” Satan has procured a notebook from out of nowhere and has his hand poised to write down what you’re saying. Presumably to go scour his books for a solution.

“Yeah. It’s … I’m tired a lot. Always, really. I’m tired right now, actually. Sometimes it’s worse than others but … I don’t really know what’s wrong.” You huff, “I was actually in the process of getting tests done to figure it out when I got magic-ed here. Isn’t that funny?”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Asmo is resting his head on your shoulder and you tilt your head so it rests on his.

“Not really. ‘M sorry, Peach. I’d tell you if there was.”

“I always wondered why you had such deep eyebags. I thought it was something in your skincare routine.”

“It’s also genetic.”

“Humans have genes for dark under eyes?” He sounds horrified at the prospect.

“Sure do.”

“That’s miserable.” You laugh at him and he squeezes your hand gently.

“So, yer just… tired.” Mammon asks.

“Mhm.”

“Chronically.”

“Also yes.”

“I didn’t know you knew the word ‘chronic’, Mammon,” Belphie ribs Mammon from his spot on the floor. You kick him slightly.

“Don’t be an ass.” He sighs dramatically and flops over onto his back.

“It’s good to know it’s not a freaky demon thing.” He peers up at you from underneath his bangs.

“Yeah. I’m kind of tired of dealing with freaky demon things. No offense.” There’s a chorus of agreement throughout the room and you can see everyone relax a little now that they know.

“It is a shame though,” Lucifer says, “that it is not demon related.” His brow furrows. “Those I can fix.” You shrug and slightly jostle Asmo’s head.

“Eh. That’s life. Thank you for being concerned though, I appreciate it.” Your stomach grumbles. “I guess I should eat, huh?” Asmo graciously lifts his head off your shoulder and you head to the kitchen, Beel on your tail.

“There’s nothing we can do?” He looks sad, and he’s rubbing his wrist in that way he does when he’s nervous. You’re struck with the realization that Beel is the defender of his family. He’s physically the biggest and the strongest, and he’s been looking after them and taking care of them physically for basically forever. It must be excruciating for him to not be able to help you.

“No,” you shake your head sadly, “I’m sorry, Bug.” You step forward and give him a hug. He returns it and you pretend you can’t feel him cry.

—

Things are different after that. Asmo tries to hang out with you in places closer to the House or in his room. Lucifer pulls you aside and tells you both his room and his study are always open for you if you need them. Beel takes you to the gym with him so you don’t stay too sedentary, but is always willing to stop working out if you need to go home. Satan almost gets into a physical altercation with a teacher over you sleeping in class and you find out later that Belphie gave him nightmares for a week. Levi doesn’t make you sit through as many anime binges anymore, instead separating them up into something more bite sized so you can properly enjoy it. It’s nice, you think, that they’re trying to take your needs into consideration.

Diavolo catches wind of it and sneaks his way over to the House to ask you questions. Walks into Lucifer’s study where you’re trying to do assigned reading like he owns it, and you think that he probably does in some way.

“Diavolo–” Lucifer stands up and Diavolo laughs.

“Don’t worry! There is nothing wrong! I just had some questions for our lovely exchange student.” He sits down in the armchair across from you and you set your notebook down.

“What’s up?” You can hear Lucifer mumbling prayers to a God who will no longer listen to them and it makes you snort.

“I have learned of your condition.”

“I gathered.”

“There is nothing I can do?”

“Do you have several degrees and a shit ton of fancy machinery?” Lucifer chokes at your language. Diavolo smiles at you.

“Can’t say that I do.”

“Then, no. There isn’t.” He hums thoughtfully and you busy yourself with trying to figure out Lucifer’s Demonus organization pattern. It doesn’t seem to be by age, so maybe it’s by color?

“What does it feel like?” Diavolo’s question draws you out of your comparison of two almost identical wine reds. You think one has a brighter undertone but that could be the color of the label.

“Have you ever been tired?”

“Indeed.”

“Have you ever not slept, for like, a whole day, and you can feel that your brain isn’t working at maximum capacity?” He nods. “Have you ever felt like you were trying to run in a swimming pool?”

“I can run in swimming pools.” You roll your eyes.

“Can you run through slime?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“It’s like that. It’s being so tired that you know you aren’t operating at your best and being able to do nothing about it. It’s like moving through water. It’s never getting enough sleep. I could sleep the perfect amount for a human my age and I would still be down to take several long naps throughout the day. And it’s not something I can ignore, either. I can’t just power through it. Because after a while, it starts to hurt.”

“Hurt?” He frowns, and it’s weird to see him not smiling.

“Yeah. It’s. When I get too tired my eyes will hurt. It feels like they’re grapes and someone is squishing the life out of them. It feels like a thousand tiny needles poking at my eyes. It feels like someone is squishing the bridge of my nose in their fist and refuses to let go. It makes my stomach hurt, it makes me nauseous and sick, and it makes me dizzy and it’s awful.”

“I see.”

“So, I have to sleep. I have to sleep because if I don’t it hurts and if I manage to get through that my body will make itself sleep, anyway. It’ll just turn off, regardless of if I want it to or not.”

“That. That is miserable. I am sorry you have to experience such a thing.” You shrug a little and stare at your hands.

“What can you do?” It comes out sarcastic and dry. There’s a silence, tense and weighty, and you know what he’s going to ask before he does.

“Do you need to go to the human world?” You can hear Lucifer’s sharp inhale even though he was pretending to not listen.

“Maybe. But, if it is what I think it is, it won’t go away. I’ll just know and get medication. Probably.” Diavolo stands and nods.

“At least you will know. I will figure something out for you.” He nods again, this time to himself. “There is no reason for you to suffer this way.”

“It won’t go away, Diavolo. I’ll still have it.” You need him to know this. You need him to know that it won’t be permanently fixed. You don’t want him to be disappointed when everything’s said and done and you’re still sick.

“Yes, but things will be better, no? Some progress is better than no progress, no matter how small.” He pauses and smiles at you, warm and comforting. “And we will all be there for you. Regardless of the outcome.”

[wafflefries13]

The Consequence of Late Night Calls

Summary: You've been friends with Katsuki for years, and you've always thought it's been just that - friends. But when you get a late-night call, it might just change things.

AN: Last repost! The original post got eaten by Tumblr. I'm still really proud of this one. I wrote it back when I was first starting to publish fanfic and I like how it turned out.

Warnings: College au, drinking, language

The call shocked you out of a deep but impromptu sleep. You jerked up from the noise, a page of lecture notes sticking to your check. It fluttered back to the desk covered in its own mess of loose leaf documents, used textbooks that cost more than a weekend trip to Disney World, and a laptop missing three of its letter keys. 

You dragged your tongue against your teeth, trying to get rid of the cotton feel coating the inside of your mouth. Rubbing stars into your tired eyes, you wondered when exactly you had fallen asleep. Was it somewhere near memorizing the latin terminology for court rhetoric or around reading the case file and trial records you were going to be tested over on Monday? Deciding wondering was basically pointless, considering you had pretty  much forgotten all of it anyway, you pawed blindly around for your phone. 

“Hello?” You answered, eyes still closed, although it probably came out and more of a mumbled groan than anything else.  

“(Y/NNNNNNNNN)!” 

You pulled the phone away from your ear, wincing at the sudden loud noise. Blinking bleerally, you looked down at your phone. You had taken the caller ID picture a year ago, at a sorority Halloween party you barely remembered aside from the copious amounts of alcohol consumed followed by an ill-advised scavenger hunt that ended with a call to the police and the dean’s car somehow ending up in the agriculture department’s greenhouse crowded with Jack-O-lanterns. It was a profile shot of Bakugou Katsuki, his mouth opened in a mid-yell scowl, as was his standard expression, and eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. One hand extended to try and block the camera, the other clutching a brown bottle. He was wearing a fantasy barbarian king costume, chest bare to show off the taut muscles he worked so hard for all of high school to get. When he’d shown up in it, or, rather, when Kirishima had dragged him along in his own dragonborn costume, you couldn’t believe he still had it. You remembered sitting in your basement in 9th grade, pricking your fingers with a sewing needle as you and the rest of your newly formed D&D group, Bakugou and Kirishima included, spent way too much time and effort into creating your costumes. 

Rubbing at the bridge of your nose in a vain attempt to chase away the headache you could already feel forming, you brought the phone back to your ear. You could hear the low thump of bass heavy music in the background. 

“Hi, Suki,” You said, trying not to sound condescending, but it came out like that anyway. 

“Hey!” He said sharply. The rest of his reply was slurred smooth. “I told you not to call me that.” 

You smirked. “It’s cute.” 

“It’s embarrassing! ‘M not cute.” 

“No, you’re calling me at-” You pulled the phone away again to check the time. “Katsuki, it’s like two in the morning, what the hell?” 

You heard someone shout something on the other side of the line that Katsuki mumbled a reply to. To you he said, “Was thinking about you.” 

You felt yourself blush despite yourself. “You were thinking about me?” 

There was a clunk and a bump. You could imagine him falling against a wall and sliding down to sit until the room stopped spinning. “Yeah. I don’t like it.” 

You ignored the jab in your heart. “Well, thanks.” 

“It keeps happening. I’ll just be, like, doing stuff, and then I just think, ‘What would (Y/N) think of that?’ ‘I wonder what (Y/N)’s doing right now.’ ‘(Y/N) would know what to do now. She’s so smart. And her hands look so soft. And her eyes are so pretty.’” He was quiet for a second. “It’s annoying. I can’t stop thinking about you. And it’s worse when you’re here.” There was a shuffling as you heard him try to stand up then give up again. “Why aren’t you here? I want you here.” 

You were wide awake now. You clenched and unclenched your hand, trying to process the information your obviously drunk friend had just confessed. Your stomach churned in a mix of anticipation, anxiety, and straight up butterflies. 

What the hell did all of that mean? Well, of course you knew what it meant, or you knew what it meant when spoken by a sober person of sound mind and body. But there was no way, you tried to rationalize, that The Bakugou Katsuki, the guy you’d known since freshman year of high school when he’d punched a guy who had flipped up your uniform skirt on the first day, the guy who had surprised just about everyone in home economics when he busted out a three tiered cake like it was no one’s business, the guy whos ego was big enough to have its own gravitational pull, was confessing his feelings to you in a drunk rant at two in the morning. 

“Katsuki,” You said in a soft voice. “I-” 

There was a retching sound from the other end of the line. Katsuki coughed, tried to say something, then threw up again. “Aw, fuck.” 

That headache was back with avengence now. You sighed, looking for your keys. “Katsuki, where are you?” 

“Uhh, on campus? At the Kappa Alpha Betta Whatever house. There’s a party. Why aren’t you here?” 

“You know I hate all the Greek life bs. Stay where you are, okay? I’m coming to get you. You’re completely wasted.” 

“‘M not. I can handle what I drink.” There was another pause before he wretched again. 

“Did you just throw up again?” 

“...No.” 

“Cool. I’ll be there in ten.” 

You didn’t wait for him to respond before hanging it. You didn’t think your heart could take it if he kept going on like he had been. Grabbing your keys and heading out of your crowded studio apartment, you hopped in your car to go save your drunk friend from making any other ill advised decisions that night. 

You realized that you were probably over thinking the whole phone call as you drove through deserted streets. You couldn’t help it, it was a bad habit you had formed as a kid that now  made you obsess over court documents and testimonies in class. But now, instead of helping, it was picking you apart. What did Katsuki’s tone imply when he was talking to you just now? Could you trust the tone of an inebriated person? What did he mean when he said he thought about you a lot? You’d known each other for years now, being involved in almost all the same activities. Wouldn’t it be natural to think about someone you spent so much time with? But you’d known Kirishima for just as long, not to mention the rest of the self-named “Baku-Squad.” You’d never gotten a late night drunk call from any of them. Heck, Katsuki had known Izuku way longer than he had known you, and you were pretty dang sure Katsuki had never called him going on and on about how he always thought about him. 

Stopping at a red light, you pressed your forehead into the soft faux-leather of your steering wheel, willing your thoughts to calm down and just come to a rational conclusion already. Expect, you know, a rational conclusion that wasn’t that the guy you had carried a torch for for almost as long as you had known him might actually have feelings for you back. 

You turned on to the street lined with sororities and fraternities across from the main campus. You had to slam on your breaks almost immediately to avoid running over a tipsy, giggling co-ed who was stumbling out into the road. She didn’t even look up at you. 

You didn’t know exactly which house Katsuki was stranded at, considering you could see at least three different parties all going on at first glance. His “Kappa Alpha Betta Whatever” wasn’t very helpful, either, considering all the Greek letters adorning the houses blended together in your mind at some point. And you really didn’t want to tramp through a bunch of different houses tonight. 

Thankfully, you were saved the trouble when you saw Kirishima’s 1969 Chevrolet Chevelle park half off the curb in front of one of the houses. You’d know that car anywhere. Kirishima had dragged your group to various scrap yards and auto-repair stores all summer after he got his license, the first of you all to do so, in an effort to fix up the worn down Chevelle that he’d bought for a hundred bucks and a turkey sandwich. 

You parked on the other side of the street then jogged across to the house that was practically vibrating with heavy music and Greek life energy. Stepping over a semi-conscious frat boy laying in the doorway, you scanned around the house for any sign of Katsuki’s pomeranian-puff-ball hair. 

You spotted Denki lounging on a couch, a lampshade on his head and a tangle of phone chargers clutched in his fist. His hand sparked every now and then as he used his quirk to recharge the collection of phones. 

You lifted up the edge of the lampshade. “Hey there, Pikachu.” 

“Heeeeeey~” He said, giving you a thumbs up. You could already tell he was too far gone, although you didn’t know if it was from drinking or the over use of his quirk. 

“(Y/N)!” You heard a voice call behind you. A body fell heavily against your back. Sero wrapped his arms around you in a backwards hug. “Where you been? We missed you!” 

“Studying. I’m boring, remember? I’m looking for Katsuki, you seen him around?” 

Sero snickered. “Bakugou, huh? He’s been looking for you for a long time, right, Denki?” 

“Heeeeeey~” 

You swallowed hard. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” 

Sero snickered again, flopping on the couch next to Denki. “Can’t tell. Part of the bro code. And he said he’d kill me.” 

“That does sound like Katsuki.” 

Sero covered his eyes with his arm, head leaning back. With a wide smile, he waved his hand in the vague direction to the back door. “I think he’s out by the pool or something.” 

You waved bye. “Thanks, I’ll go check it out. You guys take care of yourselves, okay?” 

“Look at ‘em go,” Sero said to Denki as you left. “You think they’ll have a spring wedding?” 

“Heeeeeey~” 

*~~~~* 

You managed to weave your way through the crowd of bodies clogging the house to finally spill out into the back yard. You had no idea how people were able to stay this energized this late into the night with this many other people around. You remembered once being stuck at another party, early on in your college days. When it became super clear you didn’t want to be there, overwhelmed by the noise, the crush of bodies, and the suffocation of social enterprise, Katsuki had dragged Kirishima over to you, planting him in front of you as your ‘extrovert shield.’  He’d stayed with you behind the boisterous redhead for the rest of the night. 

You wondered if Katsuki remembered doing that, if he remembered any of the small nice gestures he did for you over the years. And now, with his call, with what Sero said, with your over analyzing brain, you were dissecting every interaction you could remember. Was the time he opened a door for you a signal? Was the reason he would ask to study with you for chemistry, when he was way better in practically every subject than you, just so he could be close to you? Were the times he had given you his jacket when you were cold meant to be a more intimate moment? 

God, you were going to go crazy. 

Walking around the pool, you finally spotted the hot-headed blond. He was sitting slouched over on the end of one of the reclining pool chairs, forearms braced on his knees.  You almost called out to him, stopping cold when you saw the girl behind him. She had draped herself over his back, chin rested in the crook of his neck, one had massaging his shoulder, the other conspicuously sneaking under the hem of his shirt to rub circles on his abs. 

You clenched and unclenched your hands, worry gnawing at you as a headache at the back of your skull. Had something changed between the time he had called you and now? Had there been nothing there to change at all? Had you been misreading this situation the whole time? 

Katsuki looked up, his permanently affixed scowl even deeper. The second his jewel-red eyes met yours, you felt your heart skip a beat. He jumped to his feet so fast the girl behind him fell back against the chair. He tried marching over to you, which was made only slightly less intimidating by the drunk sway to his step. 

You didn’t remember him being so tall. You’d just seen him this afternoon. There was a flushed blush across his face, adding a surprising softness. Were his arms always that strong looking? Were his eyes that piercing? Was his jaw that strong? 

“You came,” He said, voice rough as whiskey soaking into gravel. 

You spread your hands. “Well, you said my name three times, so, here I am!” You laughed nervously, trying to ignore how his gaze pinned you down. 

He took another step towards you, hand reading up. “(Y/N), I-” 

His cheeks turned from pink to green. Lurching to the side, he vomited into the pool. You tried to help him back up, hunched over and trying to catch his breath. The crowd of people around you groaned in disgust before rolling in to sarcastic applause. Katsuki flipped them off. 

“Alright, Suki,” You said, rubbing his back. “Let’s get you back home.” 

He grumbled, leaning his full weight against you. You almost stumbled and fell with the sudden shift of balance. Katsuki slid his arm around your waist, hand firmly grasping your hip, as if he was the one trying to prevent you from a drunken stumble. His fingers felt like fire through your clothes. 

You decided to go around the house instead of trying to push your way through it. Soon you were making your way across the street. It took some maneuvering to unlock and open the passenger door. You practically dropped Katsuki in where his head fell back with a groan. You grabbed his seat belt and stretched across him to fasten it. It wasn’t until he started petting your hair that your realized your position of half-way laying across his lap. You jerked back, some of your hair getting caught in his fingers. He made a disappointed sound at the loss of it. 

You slid back into the driver's seat, trembling hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. You had to take a few steadying breaths before you were ready to start the car. Pulling out of the neighborhood, you glanced over at Katsuki. His eye brows were furrowed, eyes closed, mouth pulled in a small frown. 

God, he looked adorable. 

You hit the break harder than you meant to at the light. Adorable? Where the hell did that thought come from? He’d probably be furious if he knew you ever thought that. 

But…

You risked another look at him. When he let his face relax like this, you could see the slight chub that still clung to his cheeks. Another thing he would hate to know that you thought was how much you loved the softness that it leant him. It was cute. 

Almost without your realizing it, you lifted your hand. You were overcome with the sudden urge to poke his cheek. A car horn blared behind you when your finger was less than an inch from his face. You let out an undignified squeak, hands slamming back to the wheel. Katsuki grumbled and turned in the seat, head resting against the window. You could feel the blush burning up your face. 

A few minutes later, you pulled back to the apartment complex. You both lived in the same building, Katsuki directly below your own unit. And now you were overthinking his reason for not living on campus. 

When you opened the passenger door, Katsuki almost fell out. You jerked forward to catch him then dragged him out. He half woke up, as feeble on his legs as a newborn horse. 

You lugged him through the lobby. He was muttering under his breath, but most of the words you could make out were curses. Not unusual for him. You pressed the button for the elevator repeatedly. It just blinked back at you. You sighed in frustration. They had been doing maintenance on your building all week, but now might have been the absolute worst time to do the elevator. 

You shook Katsuki’s shoulder a little bit. His head jostled like a bobble-head. “Suki, I’m gonna need your help here for a minute.” 

His head lolled forward, forehead coming down to press to yours. In a quiet voice, he whispered, “I’d do anything for you.” 

You shoved him upright, face burning. “Then walk up the damn stairs yourself!” 

Despite that, you still ended up half-carrying him up four flights of stairs. You were uncomfortably sweaty when you reached the door to Katsuki’s apartment. The two of you had traded copies of your apartment keys when you had moved in. “In case something happens to your dumb ass and I need to come save you,” He had said. He would frequently stop by, usually when you were hours deep into an all-nighter. He’d bring his laptop and work on whatever 12 page essay way due on your bed while you poured over case reports. You’d sit in silence, just together, sharing the same space, content with nothing more than knowing the other was nearby. Or he’d bring you real food to make sure you weren’t just eating ramen all the time. In turn, you’d pull him out for game night with the squad, make sure he’d actually call his mother once in a while, and lend an ear to his semi-nightly rants on whoever he decided to hate that night. 

You fumbled with the keys, jamming the key in the lock then pushing it open with your shoulder that wasn’t currently occupied by a half-asleep, full-drunk boy who had at least 50 pounds and ten inches on you. 

There was always an expectation with the rooms of single college boys. Greasy pizza boxes, empty bottles of booze displayed like expensive decor, at least one poster of a half-naked girl somewhere, probably a basket of clothes that should have been washed weeks ago. And while you knew plenty of guys who fit that description, Katsuki defied expectation. His apartment was always immaculate. His shoes were lined neatly by the door, a calendar above his desk  color-coded with assignment due dates, bed made. Katsuki may give off the persona of a punk, but you knew he was a straight-laced nerd through and through.  

With the last of your strength, you lugged him across the room, dropping him on his bed. With a groan, you stretched your arms up until you heard a satisfying pop in your back. Hands on your hips, you watched as Katsuki moaned, burying his face in his pillow and pulling his feet up from the floor. You sat on the end of the bed, tugging his feet to you to unlace his shoes. You let them fall haphazardly to the floor, too tired to care about his level of neatness.  

You grabbed a bucket from his hall closet, putting it next to the head of his bed for when he inevitably woke up vomiting in the morning. Checking his bathroom, you put a couple of painkillers and a glass of water on the nightstand with a post-it note saying “Drink Me.” 

Brushing your hands off, you looked around and checked your work. Satisfied that he wouldn’t kill himself between now and when you would inevitably check on him in the morning, you decided it was finally time to head back upstairs and get some well deserved sleep. 

But… 

You turned back at the door. Katsuki was splayed like a starfish, gently snoring with his mouth wide open. You also noticed his blushing red fluffy cheeks. 

You tapped the door knob a few times before sighing in surrender to temptation and turnin back. You knelt down next to the bed. For a moment, you just watched him sleep. He looked so peaceful now. You reached out. Your index finger sunk into his cheek like it was a marshmallow. You couldn’t believe you had never done this before. God, he really was adorable. 

Your thoughts were abruptly cut off as Katsuki’s hand shot up and grabbed your wrist with an iron grip. With a shriek, you tried to scramble backwards. Katsuki lazily opened his eyes, not at all bothered by your struggles. With seemingly no effort on his part, he tugged you forward. Off balance, you fell into his chest. Katsuki wrapped his arms around you in a bear hug, slinging a leg over yours, trapping you on the bed. 

“Katsuki!” You hissed. You squirmed in his hold, not getting any extra room. He just hummed, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You were pretty sure your face was hot enough to start a fire. “Katsuki, let me go!” 

“No,” He mumbled. His voice rumbled against your skin sending shivers through your whole body. 

“Katsuki!” 

“You can’t leave. If you leave, you won’t come back.” 

You stopped struggling. “What are you talking about?” 

He squeezed you tighter. “I’m loud. I get angry real easy. I fight a lot. And you…” He trailed off, his breath catching and rattling in his chest. “You’re so much better than me. You’re nice and smart and talented and pretty and caring and… and…” You could feel the hot tears landing on your skin. He was starting to shake. His grip had loosened enough for you to get out, but instead you brought your arms up and pulled him in closer. “If I let you go, you’ll see how much better you are than me. And you’ll leave. You’ll leave me because you’re better and you deserve so much better. But I’m a selfish bastard and I just want you for myself because I love you so damn much.” 

Your heart dropped into your stomach. You wiggled your hand up, threading your hand into his hair and tilting his head to look up at you. 

“I love you too,” You said softly. “And I’m not going anywhere.” 

Katsuki crushed you to his chest, letting out another loud sob. You could feel hot tears pressing against your eyes. You had no idea Katsuki felt this way about anything; about you, about himself, about your relationship. 

But one thing you knew for sure: You loved Bakugou Katsuki. 

~~~

The first thing Katsuki noticed when he woke up was the head ache. His head felt like he had a railroad spike jammed through his temples. God, what did he do last night? There was the party at Kappa Alpha Betta Whatever house. It’d been fine for a while, hanging out with the guys, playing beer pong, winning some extra cash from freshman in poker (where did he put that money anyway?). And then…

And then someone had said your name. He’d heard it across the room, an amazing feat in and of itself, but his ears were trained for any news of you. He’d jerked up right when he heard it, missing his shot at the beer pong table. He gladly took his drink and went prowling through the house. Who had said your name? Were you here? Were you coming?  

It might have been selfish, he knew how much you hated loud crowds, but damn it, he wanted you here. He remembered the last Greek life party you had been at. He’d lost you at some point between getting into an argument with that damn Deku and pulling Denki down from a keg stand. He’d finally found you huddled into some back corner, looking like a rabbit about to dart from a hungry fox (he wouldn’t mind being that fox, honestly, he could eat you right up.) You’d lost the color in your face, hands shaking as you clutched your red Solo cup almost hard enough for your nails to pierce the plastic. 

He snatched Kirishima by his collar as he carved a path through the room. He planted the extroverted red-head in front of you, creating an extrovert shield between himself and the love of his life you. He’d spent the rest of the night talking to you. Nothing special, he couldn’t even really remember what about. But he did remember the relaxed slope of your shoulders, the spark in your eyes, the smile that played on your lips at whatever lame joke he had just made. 

Back in the present (or last night, whatever), he was still stalking through the halls looking for whoever had mentioned you. He heard it again, the tail end of your name, coming from the living room. 

“-(/N) never had it so good.” There he was, lounging along the bottom stairs with a smug look on his face as he regaled the small crowd he had attracted. Katsuki recognized him as one of those legacy kids, the one who showed up to the first day of orientation in a sleek black Bugatti and took up three parking spaces, talked in almost every one of his classes when he even bothered to show up, and was, without a doubt at every party on or off campus. 

And now he was telling a story about you. What were you ever doing with an asshole like him? 

“You would never guess it from how she dresses, you know,” The guy continued, lazily waving his half-empty beer bottle. “But she is stacked.” 

Katsuki tensed up, his heart jumping into his throat. He pushed aside the crowd until he stood right in front of the bragger on the stairs. “What did you just say?” He asked through clenched teeth. “You're talking about (Y/N) (L/N), right?” 

He lazily swept his gaze up, grinning wide when he saw Katsuki. “Yeah, (Y/N)? You know, she comes across as a frigid bitch, but let me tell you, she’s an incredible lay.” Katsuki’s vision went red. The crowd started to subtly shuffle away, feeling the cold change in atmosphere. “Not much besides that, honestly. Thank god her tits and ass are amazing, cause her face sure wasn’t doing it for me. Super boring, too, heard she’s failing her classes. Oh, well. Hey, I could use a side-piece when I’m running my own firm, you know?” 

The asshole never saw it coming. In the span of a heart beat, Katsuki had grabbed his designer jacket and hoisted him off the stairs, pinning him to the wall so his feet kicked to try and reach the ground. 

“You listen to me, asshole,” Katsuki hissed. “You never talk about (Y/N) again. You never look at her, you never talk to your shit-stain friends about her, you sure as fuck never tell another lie about her, or so help me, you’ll get to find out what color your liver is.” 

Katsuki was half-way sure the jerk had pissed his pants. He dropped him in a heap, landing in the puddle of spilled beer on the floor. He brushed his hand off on his jeans, eager to get whatever germs the gossip had off him.  

He was almost out of ear shot when he heard the rich kid spit and say, “Fine. She’s probably crawling with it if you’re dicking her down.” 

The kid’s head made a dent in the wall as he richoched back from the impact of Katsuki’s punch. He would easily have a black eye and a broken nose, the chipped tooth would just be a  bonus. 

Katsuki’s head was fuzzy with rage, stalked through the house, bee-lining it to the nearest source of inebriation. How dare he? How fucking dare that absolute ass-wipe ever even think of saying such horrible things about you? He wasn’t even worth knowing your name, much less saying it. Not to mention the fact he must be blind to think you were anything less than stunning. Ever since he had known you, you had been nothing but kind and smart and caring and funny and…

“Baku-bro, you doing okay?” 

Katsuki didn’t realize how tight he was holding his fists until he relaxed. His nails had made half-moon indents in his palms, his knuckles brushed red from the punch. 

Kirishima had his mouth pulled down in that stupid puppy dog pout. “I’m fine,” Katsuki brushed him off. He grabbed a beer out of an iced cooler, twisting off the cap in a single motion and chugging half the bottle. 

“Well, that’s good, cause I don’t think Tim Flood is making it out of here without a few stitches.” 

“Good.” Katsuki finished the beer and chucked it into a recycle bin. He grabbed another and stalked out of the room. Everything felt too hot, too tight. His head was pounding. If you were here, you’d get a bag of ice and press it against his forehead. You’d probably call him an idiot for getting into another fight, that he needed to learn how to manage his temper better. He’d call you a dumbass but let you lead him away somewhere dark and quiet, away from all the other more insufferable dumbasses. You’d find some pain killers, get him some water, because that’s just the kind of caring person you were. Maybe you’d bring him upstairs, lead him to an unoccupied bedroom. The two of you would sit together on the bed, maybe just a little too close. You’d hand him the water, his hand would brush against yours. You’d look down, shy, blushing cutely. He’d lean forward, thread his hand through your incredibly soft hair, angle your face up to him. Your plush lips would part slightly and he’d lean forward and - 

“Are you sure you’re good?” Kirishima asked, abruptly cutting off Katsuki’s impromptu fantasy. “Cause you don’t look so good.” Katsuki bit his tongue. “Is it because of what that guy said about (Y/N)?” Katsuki whipped around, glaring daggers. Kirishima smiled and put his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, bro, it’s okay! No one believed him, anyway.” 

Katsuki scoffed, taking a swig of the beer. “(Y/N)’s too good for him anyway.” 

“I bet you think (Y/N)’s too good for everyone here, right?” 

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means you need to hurry up and tell (Y/N) you like her!” Sero shouted, jumping in out of nowhere. 

Katsuki dropped his bottle, Kirishima catching it just in time, and grabbed Sero by the front of his shirt and lifted him up. Sero just grinned his stupid, wide grin. 

“Come on, Katsuki,” Denki said, slinging an arm around Katsuki’s shoulders. “We all know you’ve had a thing for (Y/N) since high school. Why don’t you just put us all out of our misery and tell her already?!” 

Katsuki felt his face heat up. “I don’t- I haven’t - Fuck you!”  Katsuki couldn’t remember why he was friends with these three idiots as they all burst out into laughter.

 He snatched his bottle back and pushed through the crowd. He needed some air. He heard Sero yell after him, “You have to tell her eventually!” 

And… That was mostly it. Katsuki’s memories of last night sort of started to trail off after that. He knew that he drank, he drank a lot. At some point he ended up by the pool. And maybe he’d called someone? Oh, hell, he hoped he hadn’t called someone. 

His eyes snapped open at the soft groan. There you were, just inches away from his face, fast asleep and tucked in his arms. You were pressed close, breasts pushing against his chest, legs tangled with his, one hand clutching his shirt. Your lips were parted ever so slightly, breathing heavy and even. 

And you were so fucking close. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. His arms tightened around you and he tensed. How the hell did this happen? Did you actually come to the party last night? When, and why? What had called you down there-? 

Oh. Oh, the call! He had called you last night? Some time in his drunken haze he must have figured out to bypass the timed lock he had put on it specifically to avoid calling people with a too-honest tongue. But had you…?  Nervously, he looked down. He sighed in relief. You were both still dressed. At least that was one mistake he knew he hadn’t made. 

Alright, that was one problem. Now, on to the next one: How was he going to get out of here without waking you up? Craning his head around, he checked out the room. Wait, this was his room. He was in his apartment! A picture of last night started to form in his mind. He’d called you, blabbering God knows what, and then you’d been a good person (why were you such a good person?) and had come to get him, to make sure he was okay. And then what? He’d somehow seduced you into his bed? No, it was more likely you had stayed to make sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit, maybe sat on the bed because it was the middle of the night and you were exhausted, and then… This. 

Okay, okay, no, this was fine, he could fix this. He could slip out, let you keep sleeping. He’d make some breakfast in the kitchen and then you’d wake up, wander in rubbing the sleep from your eyes in that cute way you did when you pulled an all-nighter studying. He’d chastise you for lugging his drunk ass up here, for being out so late at night. You’d wave him off, compliment his cooking, tell him to take better care of himself, and then smile up at him with that blindingly beautiful smile and sparkling eyes. 

“Morning.” Katsuki yelped at your greeting. He stared, wide-eyed, down at you, as you look back up at him lazily with those sparkling eyes. “It’s kinda hard to breathe here.” He realized then just how tight he was holding you. He jerked backward, his shout of surprise cut off as he fell off the bed. He rubbed his sore hip, looking up when he heard your giggle. You were leaning over the bed, smiling shyly when he caught you staring. 

He gulped hard, feeling his face burning up. “Hi.” 

You tucked a loose threat of hair behind your ear. “Hi.” 

He should say something. He needed to say something. God, why wasn’t he saying something? 

“I-“ Katsuki stopped with an incomplete thought in his mouth. He suddenly felt uncomfortably hot, his stomach clenching and throat going dry. Your face dropped as you lunged forward, dragging a bucket in front of him (where did that even come from?). He surged forward, clenching the sides of the bucket in a white knuckled grip, and threw up. 

You slid off the bed and knelt next to him. You rubbed small circles in his back, whispering small comforts as he coughed up bile and alcohol and who knows what else. You reached over behind him and grabbed a glass of water from his nightstand. 

“Here,” You said. “Rinse and spit. Don’t swallow or gargle, it’ll just mess with your gag reflex.” Rubbing the spike of pain growing in his forehead, he did what you said. When he caught his breath, he accepted the pain killers you had and dry swallowed them. You really had prepared for everything, huh? 

Katsuki shoved the bucket away with his foot, leaning back against the bed. “Fuck…” 

You hummed in response and scooted to sit next to him. “So,” You said. 

“So,” He said back. 

“I don’t suppose you remember much from last night?” 

He clenched his jaw, mouth going dryer than it already was, if that was possible. He tried to laugh, but it sounded forced and strained, even to him. “Hey, we’re both still wearing pants, right?” You didn’t laugh back. 

“So that’s a no then?” The seriousness with which you said that made him pause. 

“I, uh, think I called you?” 

“MmHmm. You didn’t sound too great, so I came to pull you out.” 

“Huh. Thanks for that.” 

“Yup.” You paused for a second. “Do you remember… anything else you said?” 

Fuck. 

“Uhh, I owe you breakfast?” 

You looked away. “Is there anything you maybe told Sero that you wouldn’t want him to tell me?” 

Double fuck. 

“If this is about Halloween last year, Mina was the one who brought the Ouija board.” He smirked at you, waiting for you to laugh with him. Instead you didn’t even look up, staring a hole in the carpet with the intensity of your gaze. 

You let out a sigh through your nose, pushing off your knees to stand. “I’m gonna head out,” You said, rubbing the back of your head and still not looking at him. 

Katsuki jumped up, immediately regretting as his head began swimming. “(Y/N), wait-“ He cut himself off with another surge of nausea and lurched towards the bucket. 

“Katsuki,” You said, sounding frustrated. “Look, I…” You sighed, running a hand through your hair and turning back to him. “We’ve known each other for a long time now, right? And for all the time I’ve known you, you’ve been stubborn and pig-headed and aggressive and just, you know, you. But still, in all that time, despite everything, I still…” You pressed your lips, looking for the right words. “I’m happy when I’m around you, Katsuki. I feel at ease, I feel protected, I feel like I can be better at anything. And I’ve thought about this a lot, so much that it makes my head spin and my heart hurt, but through all the trouble I still think it’s worth it. Because at the end of the day it means I still get to be with you and sometimes I just feel like that’s enough, but now I…” Your lip was trembling, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. Katsuki wanted nothing more than to take a big step forward and wrap you in the biggest, tightest hug of your life. Finally, you sighed in defeat. “But if you can’t say it, if the One and Only Katsuki Bakugou can’t say it, then how the hell can I?” 

Your voice broke on the last word. Katsuki was so stunned and suddenly pinned with guilt that he couldn’t move when you spun on your heels and rushed out of his apartment. 

Oh, fuck. 

~~~

“Idiot,” You murmured to yourself as you fled up the apartment stairs, furiously wiping at your eyes to get rid of the oncoming tears. “Idiot, idiot, idiot.” By the time you reached your apartment and slammed the door behind you, you weren’t sure if you were talking about Katsuki or yourself. 

You felt sick. Anxiety gnawed at your mind like a starving coyote. Had you really just confessed your feelings to Katsuki? Had you really just confessed your feelings to Katsuki like that? Would he ever speak to you again? Would things just become too awkward that you’d be edged out of your friend group? They had known Katsuki much longer than they had known you, after all. God, what if he was calling Kirishima right now and telling him about the disaster of a morning, after you had taken advantage of his blitz out state and slept in the same bed with him? 

Well, no. Kirishima was probably still knocked  out from his own night of heavy imbibing. Not to mention that even he, the most kind-hearted and patient person you knew, would have to draw a line at listening to Katsuki rant while dealing with a massive hangover. 

And no, Katsuki wouldn’t do that to you. Despite his rough deminor, his abrasive personality, and his profane tongue, Katsuki was actually a sweetheart deep down. Maybe really deep down, but still. He wouldn’t be so intentionally cruel, even if you told him that you shared all of his baby pictures of him playing in his All Might onesie online. 

So then why were you still huddled on a heap on the floor, back pressed against the front door, crying? Why was this pit of loneliness blooming in your chest?  

You yelped at the sudden banging on the door. Who could be here so early in the morning? You had paid rent this month, right? You sniffed, rubbing your eyes and smoothing out your clothes. You hoped your cheeks weren’t the blotchy red they got whenever you were upset. You took a deep breath to steady your voice for whoever was outside. 

Opening the door, you looked up at a wide-eyed Katsuki, panting hard with determination set on his face. You groaned internally. 

“Katsuki,” You began,” About what I said, I’m sorr-” 

Without waiting for you to finish, Katsuki surged forward. You tried to take a step backward, almost falling, but he caught you, a strong grip on your shoulders. Without waiting for you to get your bearings, Katsuki leaned in, smashing his lips against yours. 

It wasn’t a graceful kiss, all clashing teeth and urgency rather than romance. His eyes were screwed closed. He stayed pressed against you, not moving, grip so tight on your upper arms you thought there might be a mark later. 

Just as suddenly as he had come forward, he jerked back, but kept his hold on you. You both breathed heavily, eyes locked. Your mind whirled, a hundred voices shouting at the same time. For once, you decided to ignore them and let your body do what it wanted. 

You reached up, wrapping your arms around Katsuki’s neck and pulled him back in. This kiss was controlled, soft and sweet. His hands dropped from your shoulders to wrap around your waist. He pressed in harder, adding desperation in the kiss, as if he thought you would vanish any second. When you both pulled away this time, he leaned his forehead against yours, noses bumping into each other, sharing the same breath. 

His voice was rough. “Sorry,” He said. “I had to brush my teeth first.” 

[lil-frenchfri77]

Begin Again

Summary: Ever since Bella came back to Forks things between y/n and her boys have been different. Embry and Quil stopped answering phone calls and texts, they’ve even been avoiding her everytime she shows up at their house. So y/n does the only thing she can think to do, she latches onto Jacob just like Bella, and when he starts acting like Embry and Quil did, she makes the decision to not put so much effort into a friendship that is clearly one sided. But what happens one day when Sam’s pack is in town at the same time as y/n and her new friends and two certain boys imprint on their former best friend? And what happens when a former best friend doesn’t feel the same way?

Author’s Note: Hello to everyone that is reading this! This is my first ever time writing a fanfic, so (if you’re reading this) go easy on me. I would love to hear any feedback anyone might have in the comments. Super excited to be writing this Twilight fic, I’ve been inspired by others authors on here to take my own spin with Stephaine Myers characters, none of which I have any ownership to. This doesn’t really follow the Eclipse movie timeline, I'm making things up and stretching the timeline. So this is basically my own story just using Stephanie’s characters and some of her themes. There are also some other characters in here that I don’t have any rights to, I just thought it would be fun to put them in this story. I don’t know how long or short this is going to be, I might be able to get my ideas across quickly or this might turn into a few chapters. If you’ve read this far I love you and I really hope you like this!

(Also not beta read cause I can’t afford that)(Dividers from @enchanthings here on Tumblr)

Y/n/n means your nickname 

Embry Call x Fem!Swan!Reader x Quil Ateara

Slight Stiles Stlinski x Reader

Chapter 1 | Master list | Chapter 2

Things had been weird lately, with Bella back in Forks, the Cullens, and your friends on the reservation. It seemed like everyday more and more of your friends were leaving to go hang out with Sam Uley and his pack of assholes. Now it was just down to you, Embry, Quil, and Jacob. It’s not like you’re not fine with that, Embry and Quil were your best friends ever. So you were fine with just the four of you hanging out all the time. But they got so hostile of you whenever Edward or one of his siblings came around to talk to you or Bella. 

It was getting absolutely exhausting trying to mediate things between them. You didn’t want to have to choose between your boys or Bella, but if it came down to it, your choice would always be your family and by extension, the Cullens. Although it seemed like you wouldn’t be getting a choice anyways when Embry and Quil stopped answering your texts and calls. They were never home when you came to visit and see what was happening to them. You had even tried asking Jacob if he knew anything but he swore up and down that he had no idea. 

You never expected to see them hanging out with Sam and his pack, jumping off that stupid cliff. You had never felt more betrayed. They could do whatever they wanted to but it hurt that they felt the need to drop you, without any kind of explanation and go hang out with the few people (at least you thought) you mutually disliked. It was obvious that they weren’t going to talk to you anymore so you did the only thing you could think of, you left them one last voicemail in hopes to get through to them. 

“Hey, it’s me. Um, I know we haven’t talked in a while, but I still miss you guys. I saw you the other day, hanging out with Sam and his boys. It’s fine, I guess. I just thought that we were better friends than that. I mean, we’ve been inseparable since we were 6 but that’s not really the point of why I called.” You took a deep breath, trying to stop yourself from rambling some more. “I don’t really understand why you started hanging out with Sam but you have free will so I can’t stop you. But I miss you guys, and I still want to be friends. I don’t want to permanently lose you both because I can’t get over this petty dislike I have. So, call me back. Please. I want to talk about everything, but if you truly want nothing to do with me anymore then I won’t bother you again. This is goodbye, then.” 

2 months later

Life wasn’t the easiest thing anymore. The boys never called you back, which you expected but it still stung. You still had Jacob, but it wasn’t the same. Jacob knew how much Embry and Quil’s choice had affected you, but there wasn’t much he could do to help you. He couldn’t just tell you that they were werewolves. So he did his best to try and raise your spirits. You were wholeheartedly grateful you had him during this time. 

Bella wasn’t much help either, she had just been broken up with and she was rotting away in her room. It appeared as though life was hating the Swan girls right now. As much as you wanted to wallow in your own pity you knew you had to be there for Bella. It’s not like the kids from school were going to help her, and honestly Bella wouldn’t want them to. So you spent months trying to help Bella, you didn’t want to lose your sister too. 

“Please, Bells. Just talk to me, tell me what’s going on in your head. I’ll do anything to help you, you just have to tell me. Tell me what I can do for you, I want to take all this pain away. I know this isn’t about me or dad but we’re so scared for you Bells. We love you so much.” You plead  with her. Tears welled up in your eyes when she turned away from you and went back to looking out of her window. You walked out of her room before she could see or hear you start to cry. 

“Whoa, slow down there kid. What’s happening?” Charlie stopped you in the hallway. His hands gripped your shoulders as they shook with silent sobs. 

“I can’t watch her wither away like that dad. She’s changing so much, and I don’t know how to help her. I hate Edward for what he’s putting her through and he’s not even here.” You spoke through your tears. Hiccuping in between every breath you took. 

“Y/n,” Charlie whispered, cupping your cheeks and making you look up at him, “We will get her through all of this okay kid? You and me will bring our Bella back. I know it.” He assured you as genuinely as he could. Truth be told, he had no idea if he would be able to get his daughters back to the girls they were before all this happened. He was grateful that you seemed to be okay so soon after the Embry and Quil situation. He didn’t know what he would do if both of his kids were nervous wrecks he couldn’t console. 

You nodded at him instead of answering back. You knew he was just trying to make you feel better. As much as you wanted to stay and keep trying with Bella you had to go to school. You couldn’t miss any more days this week or you would fall too far behind. 

After getting dressed you head downstairs where you say goodbye to your dad and meet Jacob who’s waiting for you outside. Lately he has taken to riding with you to school and then walking back to the reservation afterwards so you weren’t alone in the mornings. It was also a way for him to keep an eye on you and Bella. 

“You know, you don’t have to keep doing this Jake, I’m perfectly okay with getting to school by myself.” You told him today. It has been on your mind for a little while now. 

“I know,” he chuckles, “but I like to. Sometimes I don’t want to be alone in the morning so I make you suffer and force my presence on you. You’re going to have to get used to it.” Jacob simply shrugged. 

You get quiet after that and it worries him, but before he can ask you what’s wrong you beat him to it

“If you ever want to be friends with Sam and everyone else, please don’t cut me off too. I don’t think I could handle that.” Your hands grip the steering wheel tighter as you pull up to a red light. You can’t bring yourself to look over at him, as you not so patiently wait for his answer. 

“Y/n/n, I will never abandon you to be friends with Sam and his pack of douchebags. Okay? It's you and me against the world now.” He says in such a loving tone that it brings tears to your eyes for the second time that day. “Oh god, please don’t cry. I totally didn’t mean for that to happen.” 

Watching him panic while he tries to get you to stop crying does the trick, and you start to giggle at him. The rest of the drive to your school is silent with the occasional sing along moment to whatever is playing on the radio. When you finally arrive at school you're in a much better mood. 

You say goodbye to Jacob and head into the building, putting on your headphones and turning the volume all the way up. Someone knocks into you from the side sending your phone and headphones sliding across the floor. 

“Oh my god. I’m so freaking sorry!” Apologizes spill from the mystery boy's mouth as his friend, the one who pushed him into you, hurries to gather your things. He turns around to his friend on the floor and hisses out “Dude. What the hell??” 

It wasn’t surprising that you had to clue who these boys were. When you were friends with Embry and Quil you didn't really talk to the people you go to school with. “It’s fine.” You shrugged it off, not wanting to create a problem with these two. 

“No, its not fine. I totally didn't mean to smash into you. Scott’s just an asshole.” The boy throws his friend, Scott, under the bus. “I’m Stiles by the way.” 

“I didn't mean to push him into you miss, I didn't even see you there.” Scott pipes in, before quickly realizing what he said. “OH! I didn't mean I didn't see you at all, like you're just hard to see. Cause you’re not hard to miss. Not that you're always in the way! I've never seen you before so… I'm going to stop talking now.” Scott sheepishly tugs at the collar of his shirt. He seems to be sweating now. The incredulous look on your face seems to shut him up well enough for his friend, Stiles, to get a word in. 

“Wow dude, that was bad.” He’s trying to hold back his laughter now. “I think what he's trying to say is that he was so preoccupied with being an asshat that he wasn't paying attention to our surroundings.” Stiles says it a lot more eloquently than Scott had and it makes you giggle. 

They both stare at you like you've grown a second head. “That was the worst apology I have ever heard in my entire life.” You state after getting ahold of your laughter. “I’m y/n. I accept your terrible apology, and it's okay that you haven't seen me around before, because to be honest. I've never seen either of you around before either.” 

They let out a breath of relief and apologize one more time, sounding more coherent and sincere this go around. Scott proceeds to ask you what you have for the first period and surprisingly you have the same class as them, so you all walk to your class talking and getting to know each other. When you get to class you part ways to your seats with plans to meet after class. 

Your class schedules were pretty similar, especially yours and Stiles. In the classes you and Stiles shared you decided to move seats and sit next to each other, getting in trouble a few times for talking too much. You were getting along with him so well that he invited you to sit with him and his friends at lunch. And since you didn't have any other plans you took him up on his offer. 

When lunch time rolls around Stiles follows you to your locker where you get your food before heading to the cafeteria to meet up with his friends. The table quiets down when the two of you approach. “Y/n these are my friends: Lydia, Allison, Issac, Liam, Malia, Kira, and you've already met Scott.” One by one his friends say hello and introduce themselves to you. This wasn’t at all how you thought it was going to go. You assumed that they would only give you a cursory hi and go back to their conversations, but they seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you.

[trixy812]

⋆｡‧˚ʚ You have all my support ɞ˚‧｡⋆ pt 3

{Nanami Kento x reader}

ִֶָ࣪☾. Content: kento nanami x reader, fluff, reader mistakenly believes that getting drunk will make them have more fun, Nanami IS THE standard!, friends to lovers

ִֶָ࣪☾. Synopsis: It was inevitable. Kento Nanami and you are becoming a couple.

ִֶָ࣪☾. AN: Part 3 is HERE! :)! I've read several times on Nanami x reader fanfics that people would like to read fanfics on how nanami x y/n become a couple. I hope you like my version of it. If you are not happy with this, I can recommend you a similar fic because high school Nanami is everything (here). extra: i want to thank @totallygyomeiswife again :D She is helping me a lot with her opinion and i really value what she has to say!

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4

Reader meets Gojo

Something about you had caught Nanami’s attention, though he refused to admit it for a long time.

He vividly remembered the conversation with Haibara the day the two of them met you.

“You know, Nanami,” Haibara had said that afternoon, his usual carefree smile lighting up his face as they rested “I think I could fall for her.”

Nanami gave him a look of mild surprise and skepticism. “What are you talking about?”

“About Y/N,” Haibara replied without hesitation. “She’s incredible—kind, genuine. There’s just something about the way she carries herself... like she genuinely cares about people. I think I’m going to ask her out.”

Nanami rolled his eyes slightly. “We just wrapped up a mission that involved her. Don’t be impulsive. Give it some time; you could end up in trouble.”

Haibara thought for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right. No rush anyway—I already got her number.”

Nanami said nothing, but something about that moment had made an odd knot form in his chest. At the time, he hadn’t understood it, but now he knew it was an early sign of what he was beginning to feel for you. That memory was bittersweet—equal parts fondness and regret.

From what rested of the first year of high school, your connection with Nanami became a constant in your life. Despite his frequent missions that sometimes kept him away for weeks, he always made time to reply to your messages, help you with homework, or just listen to your stories.

Yet, an invisible wall stood between you—a line neither of you dared cross.

This distance led you to believe Nanami would never see you the way you saw him. To him, you were just a friend, someone to look after but nothing more. Being young, you decided not to linger, waiting for something that might never happen.

So, you began dating others.

At first, it was casual: a boy from the art club, an older student you met at a school party. Over time, these dates became more frequent and more intimate. There were kisses and fleeting touches that made you feel wanted. But deep down, none of these boys could make you feel what Nanami did with just a glance.

Nanami knew you were seeing other people. Sometimes, when he came over after one of your dates, you carried the faint trace of a cologne that wasn’t yours, or your smile held a guilty edge he never mentioned. You didn’t share details, and he never asked. But his silence wasn’t indifference.

Inside, every time he saw you return from a date, a hollow ache settled in his chest—a feeling he couldn’t name. It was more than jealousy; it was frustration with himself. He wasn’t sure what he felt for you and didn’t want to burden you with something so uncertain and selfish. So, he let you be.

One evening, while the two of you worked in your room, you pulled out your phone to answer a message. Nanami, seated across from you, noticed the faint smile on your face.

“Is it one of your admirers?” he asked, his tone neutral, not looking up from his notebook.

You tensed slightly but hid it with a light laugh. “Something like that. He invited me to the movies this weekend.”

Nanami didn’t respond immediately, but his grip on his pencil tightened. Finally, he murmured, “I hope you have a good time.”

Your smile faded. You looked at him, searching for any trace of emotion in his expression, but found none. His apparent indifference hurt more than you cared to admit.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, turning back to your phone. But that night, after he left, you cried.

“She can do what she wants,” Nanami told himself over and over. But every time he pictured you with someone else, the ache in his chest grew heavier.

By your senior year, your bond was undeniable. You’d quit volunteering at the hospital after sophomore year to fully embrace your final year of school, which meant attending every party possible. Naturally, Nanami accompanied you to most of them—not because he enjoyed the loud music or endless drinks (he didn’t), but because he knew you loved letting loose. And someone had to make sure you got home safely.

“Kento, you’re the best!” you slurred one night, leaning on his arm for balance.

“You say that every time you’re drunk,” he replied with a sigh, adjusting his hold to keep you steady.

“But I mean it!” you insisted, grinning up at him. “What would I do without you? You’re like my rock. My stoic rock.”

Despite himself, Nanami smiled slightly, quickly averting his gaze to hide it. “Let’s get you home.”

“Kento, you don’t have to come to these things if you don’t want to.”

“I’m here because I want to make sure you’re safe,” he always replied, his tone a blend of seriousness and tenderness that made you smile even in your most scattered state.

Your parents adored Nanami from the first day they met him.

When he walked you home for the first time, your mother couldn’t help but ask, “Are you from a sorcerer clan?”

Nanami shook his head, his usual seriousness intact. “No, I’m the first in my family. My mother works in an office, and my father is a tradesman.”

“That’s admirable,” your father said, shaking his hand. “You have a bright future ahead of you.”

Though the words were meant as a compliment, they weighed on Nanami. A bright future? For who? Each mission he undertook pulled him further from that ideal. He saw how students were treated as pawns, disposable tools for the higher-ups. That same indifference had led to Haibara’s death.

A few weeks before graduation, you attended another party. You drank more than usual and laughed with a group of guys. Nanami, as always, was there, watching over you. But something in him was different that night.

He saw you laughing, your face glowing under the party lights, and something inside him broke. He couldn’t keep his feelings bottled up any longer.

When one of the guys tried to get too close, Nanami stepped in, placing himself between the two of you.

“That’s enough,” he said firmly, his voice calm but commanding.

“Ah, the loyal puppy following Y/N everywhere,” the guy sneered, annoyed.

“More like a Doberman,” Nanami retorted without missing a beat.

You stared at him, stunned. “Kento, what are you doing?” you asked, more confused than angry.

He gently took your wrist and led you out of the venue, ignoring the curious stares. Once you were in a quieter spot, he stopped but didn’t let go of your hand.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, your voice softer now.

He sighed, closing his eyes briefly before meeting your gaze.

“I can’t keep pretending I don’t care,” he said, his voice low but filled with emotion. “Every time you’re with someone else, it feels like I’m being torn apart. Every time you smile, I want to be the reason for that smile. I don’t know when it started, but I know I can’t ignore it anymore.”

Your heart raced, the words you’d waited so long to hear finally spoken.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He looked away, his jaw tightening. “Because... I wasn’t sure if I deserved to feel this way about you.” He paused, shaking his head. “But none of that matters now. What matters is that I want to be with you. And if it means fighting off every idiot who tries to get close to you, I’ll do it. But I hope... I hope you’ll give me a chance before it comes to that.”

Without hesitation, you grabbed the lapels of his jacket, pulling him into a kiss full of urgency and passion.

“It’s always been you, Kento,” you murmured against his lips. “Always.”

The next morning, you woke up with a hazy memory of the night before. There were flashes of laughter, lights, and something about Nanami. But you weren’t sure.

“Did I say something? No... it must’ve been a dream,” you thought, shaking your head as you checked your phone.

Meanwhile, Nanami sat in his room, staring at his phone, drafting a message:

How are you feeling? Everything okay?

You replied a few moments later:

I’m fine, though I think I had a weird dream... I feel a bit embarrassed, hahahaha. Thanks for taking care of me again, Kento.

Nanami stared at your response, his heart sinking slightly. “She thinks it was a dream...”

He knew he had to confess again—properly this time.

The problem was, Nanami didn’t know how to be romantic. His experience with grand displays of affection was nonexistent, and he felt unusually insecure. He had done some research (painfully awkward Google searches late at night), and everything seemed to suggest that flowers were a classic and meaningful way to confess. A large bouquet, carefully chosen, seemed the perfect balance of tradition and sincerity.

But then came the second problem: money.

The small allowance Nanami received as a student sorcerer barely covered his basic needs. He couldn’t afford an expensive bouquet. He considered saving up for a few weeks, but the thought of delaying this any longer felt unbearable. For once, he wanted to put his heart before his practicality.

That was when he did something he never thought he’d do. He turned to Gojo Satoru for help.

Nanami found Gojo lounging in the courtyard at Jujutsu High, a pair of sunglasses lazily perched on his nose as he sipped what appeared to be bubble tea. Gojo’s carefree attitude already irritated Nanami on the best of days, but this time, he had to swallow his pride. This wasn’t about him; it was about you.

“Gojo,” Nanami began in a dry, professional tone.

Gojo glanced up, a grin spreading across his face as he sensed an opportunity for amusement.

“Nanamin! To what do I owe the honor? Have you finally decided we’re going to be best friends forever?”

Nanami ignored the jab, his expression impassive. “I need to borrow some money.”

Gojo nearly choked on his drink, sputtering as he leaned forward.

“Wait, what? You? Kento Nanami asking me for a loan? This is too good to be true.”

“Don’t make a scene,” Nanami replied, already regretting his decision. “I’ll pay you back—with interest.”

“This is priceless,” Gojo said, still grinning. “What could possibly drive you to ask me for money? Wait, wait, let me guess… it’s for a girl, isn’t it?”

Nanami’s jaw tightened, and the faintest blush dusted his cheeks. His silence was all the confirmation Gojo needed.

“I knew it!” Gojo exclaimed, clapping his hands in delight. “Who is she? Someone from Jujutsu High? I’ve never seen—”

“Are you going to lend me the money or not?” Nanami snapped, his tone sharp.

Gojo waved a hand to calm him, his grin unwavering. “Relax, relax. Of course, I’ll lend you the money. But you owe me more than just interest—you owe me a story. I want to hear every detail of how this turns out. Got it?”

Nanami gritted his teeth but nodded. Anything to end this conversation.

With Gojo’s loan in hand, Nanami visited a high-end florist in Tokyo. The experience was entirely foreign to him. The shop was filled with vibrant colors and delicate fragrances, every arrangement more extravagant than the last. A kind florist approached him, and after an awkward conversation, Nanami chose a bouquet he felt represented you: sunflowers.

As he handed over the money, he felt a pang of frustration. He had never cared about money, but this moment made him acutely aware of his limitations. Depending on someone like Gojo for something so personal left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Is this what my life will be?” he thought as he left the shop, bouquet in hand. “Fighting curses, being treated like a tool, and struggling to afford the simplest gestures for the people I care about?”

He thought of Haibara, of the countless students used and discarded by the higher-ups. He thought of his own dissatisfaction with the sorcerer world and wondered, not for the first time, if there might be another path for him. One where he could build a stable, fulfilling life without having to rely on anyone else.

With the bouquet finally in hand, Nanami went to find you after school. You were startled to see him waiting with an enormous bouquet of sunflowers.

“Kento… what is this?” you asked, blushing immediately.

Nanami looked at you intently, his expression serious but full of determination.

“It wasn’t a dream,” he said simply.

Your eyes widened, and the blush on your cheeks deepened.

“W-what wasn’t a dream?”

He stepped closer, holding the bouquet firmly.

“What we said to each other on Saturday. And what happened after. It wasn’t a dream. I love you, Y/N, and I’ve loved you for longer than I can admit.”

You were speechless, staring at the flowers and then at him. A small smile spread across your lips as you took the bouquet.

“It’s always been you, Kento,” you repeated, tears shining in your eyes.

Nanami relaxed slightly, though he was still the same reserved boy as ever.

“I hope this is enough,” he murmured. “I’m not great with words, but I wanted you to know for sure.”

“It’s perfect,” you replied, leaning in to kiss him again, this time fully aware of what you were doing.

"Does this mean you're done going out with those other guys?" he asked, his voice low and teasing, though you could tell there was an underlying sincerity in his question.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "No need to be jealous, Kento. None of them ever stood a chance."

His lips quirked into the faintest of smiles. "Good."

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4

Reader meets Gojo

[lovebugism]

OMG BUG I READ YOUR FICTOBER EVENT AND GOT SO EXCITED!!!

"I’ve been crocheting this throw blanket for four years and it’s finally finished. Please pretend it’s big enough and cuddle under it with me." I read this prompt and I think it would be amazing with sunshine/dizty reader x steve, its totally ok if you dont feel inspired so don't feel pressured to write it, ok love you, bye!! ♡

ty for requesting lovie :D — you make steve an anniversary present and the big softy almost cries (ditzy!reader, established relationship, fluff, 1k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

“Happy anniversary!” you squeal, clutching an ambiguously wrapped gift in your hand. 

It’s not actually your anniversary today. You can’t be sure when it is, really. You and Steve were already four months deep before you realized how official things had gotten, without either of you outright making them that way. So you both just decided to celebrate the day you first met, which you thought was pretty fitting. It feels right to acknowledge the day your lives changed forever.

You stand in front of Steve where he sits on the couch and plop the present into his waiting hands. The red glitter from the sparkly hearts gets all over his golden palms. It’s rather sloppily wrapped, like there’s no real shape to whatever you had gotten him.

He thinks it might be a blanket, or maybe a beach towel you liked so much you had to wrap.

Steve holds it up to his ear and shakes it anyway. “Is it a puppy?” he jokes with a crooked grin and sparkling honey eyes.

You pout, a frown pinching your brows. “No. There’s no airholes, Steve— that’d be so dangerous.”

Steve nods. He tries to be as serious as you are, but you’re so damn cute it’s impossible not to smile. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he concurs with a squint. 

He tears through the pink wrapping paper with glitter coating his fingers. He’s not surprised to find a blanket inside, but the fact that it’s handmade takes him for a loop.

It’s made of rainbow-colored square patches with different colored hearts on the front of each one. Some look more like blobs and bits of yarn straggle from a few rounded corners, but it’s the prettiest thing Steve’s ever seen. Mostly because he knows it was made by your hands.

He loves it so much he could cry.

“Holy hell, babe,” he scoffs out a laugh as unshed tears burn the backs of his eyes.

Unsure of how to gauge the reaction, you shift your weight on your feet and wring your clammy hands together. “Do you like it?" you wonder with brows furrowed in muted concern.

He drags his eyes away from the fuzzy blanket in his hands and up to you. His honey gaze glitters when it finds your own. “I love it, babe— what the hell? How long did it take you to make this?”

You shrug, innocent and sparkling. “I don’t know… ‘Bout a year, I guess.”

Steve gapes at you, eyes wide and pink mouth softly open. “You’ve been making this since we started dating?” he wonders when the words finally catch up to his reeling brain.

“Yeah…” you waver with a scrunched nose. “Is that weird?”

Too overwhelmed with a billion emotions, Steve just laughs. 

He figures he must look insane, getting all emotional like he’s never seen a blanket before. One hasn’t meant this much to him before now. Nothing has, really — ‘cause it wasn’t made completely and utterly by you.

He shrugs and beams at you, wider than you’ve ever seen. “Only if it’s weird that I wanna kiss you stupid right now,” he teases, only half-joking.

“That’s very weird,” you nod, then purse your lips to the side in a futile attempt to hide the smile threatening to take over.

“Get over here, weirdo,” the boy laughs, sitting the blanket beside him and reaching for you. 

His palms spread across the backs of your laughs when he’s close enough to touch you — a wide, warm, and all-consuming touch. You brace yourself on his shoulders when you lean in to kiss him, giggling against his smiling mouth when he drags you onto the couch beside him.

He smacks a more intentional kiss to your lips before pulling away from you completely. He keeps one arm around your back while his other reaches for the blanket. He shakes it out to unfold it entirely, then tries to wrap the two of you in it. 

The crocheted thing only covers half of you.

Steve’s eyes are light-heartedly wide as they flit to you. “I hate to say it, babe…”

“What?” you waver, made unsure by his feigned seriousness.

“I don’t think we’re both gonna fit underneath it…”

“Yeah, we can!” you argue with a scoff, shifting closer to him. “We just gotta get real close, see?”

It doesn’t fit until you’re halfway sitting on his lap — arms wrapped around his neck, chest pressed to his. It doesn’t change how tiny the blanket is, but he’s certainly not complaining. If Steve had it his way, you’d be this close to him all the time.

“Ah, I see,” the boy nods with a poorly hidden grin. You’re so close, the tip of his nose traces up and down the bridge of yours.

“Can I tell you a secret?” you ask him in a whisper. Your smile is quieter now, bordering on serious, but there’s a mischievous twinkle in your eye he doesn’t miss. Steve nods again with raised brows, and you continue. “What if I told you that this was all intentional?”

“…Making the blanket three feet too small?”

You nod.

Steve thinks for a moment, then shrugs. “Then I’d say that you’re an evil genius. Or a total poet. One of the two, definitely— but both are equally hot.”

“Well, I was lying. It wasn’t intentional,” you confess to a crime he already knew you were innocent of. You light up again a second later, eyes sparkling just like your smile does. “But at least we get to snuggle, though, right?”

Steve laughs, high and boyish. It fills the living room with sun rays and makes your chest feel all warm. It’s like he put sunshine where your heart’s supposed to be. 

He just nods and holds you closer. He’d tell you that he hopes he has a lifetime of snuggling with you if he could find the words to say it. You’ve got him tripping head over heels for you that he’d stutter too horribly for you to understand him.

But you get it, though, without him having to say a single word.

‘Cause if you could have a lifetime with him, cuddling under this exact blanket (that you accidentally knit way too small), you’d die the happiest person that’s ever walked the goddamn planet.

[bobbin-buckley]

Cairo Sweet SFW

ALPHABET

Cairo Sweet x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff! Mentions of Smoking, Porn writing, Mr. Miller mentioned, sex mentioned

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

A: Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Cairo can be pretty affectionate. She really likes to show how much of a tease she can be, or how flirty she is.

She’ll show you her affection by touching you teasingly. Like a thigh touch or kiss to the neck. She isn’t super affectionate with physical contact but with words for sure, I mean hell she writes poetry. She’ll even read poems to you to show her affection.

She’s a softie

B: Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

You and Cairo used to be rivals. Hated each other, or so you thought. She used her other best friend (Winnie) and backstabbed her. But with all the flirting and seducing between you two, it got pretty much straight to being girlfriends.

Though you still are considered best friends because you actually now get along well.

C: Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

She doesn’t mind them. I wouldn’t say it’s all the time but she’ll cuddle you when you really need it. She prefers to be big spoon, maybe if you’re lucky you can be big spoon. But it’s rare.

She loves to spoon you. Only because she then can tease you back there, like groping you-

D: Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Well, you both are in high school. But it’s Senior year so super close to College. She never thought about moving in together like in a dorm at campus or in an apartment. She’d probably like it but also hate it because she loves the atmosphere of her mansion.

She lives alone most of them time. So she cooks for herself most days, she probably has like a maid that does the cleaning. Cause I couldn’t see her doing that 💀

E: Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Well, the only reason you’d guy’s probably would break up is because she used you. Or maybe she just didn’t want you anymore without reason.

She’d probably just straight up say it to you. This girl is bold asf

F: Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Cairo isn’t really that open at all. She rarely talks about her personal life and her parents. You only get details by how she lives and acts. For whatever reason she talks to Mr. Miller about personal things.

I mean you are about out of high school so not for a while. Maybe end of the first year of college or second year I could see her wanting to get married. Shes never mentioned it though.

G: Gentle (How gentle are they? Both physically and emotionally?)

Cairo is pretty gentle, she tries to be anyway. She may not be the best with physical contact when it comes to affection, but words are her thing.

See, physically she might just rub your arm or hold your hand when upset. If she truly cares she’ll hug you. Though emotionally she never means to hurt you on purpose. (We think anyway). Cairo might hurt you but on accident, she never EVER will hurt you physically. Emotionally just hurts her as much, her words are content, heartwarming and comforting. She just has a hard time understanding someone else’s feelings because she used to just care for her own.

Otherwise she cares about you and is gentle with you most of the time

H: Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

She likes them more than cuddling. And you know how she is about physical contact, depends how she feels. So she’ll give them to you when she misses you, you’re upset or if you offer one. So a lot of the time. Now her hugs are actually really comforting, you’re just scared to ask her for one. They are very gentle, never squeezes you, rubs your back and maybe kisses your cheek or neck.

I: I love you (How fast do they say the L word?)

She wasn’t sure at first. She doubted for a while if you were even the one. But after awhile she realized how much she loved you and how hard she fell for you.

She said it first, surprisingly. Though did she doubt herself after she said it, worried you weren’t ready. And she says it back all the time, other than if she’s upset she doesn’t really wanna talk to you.

J: Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Oh lord, let’s not even get started. This girl hates being jealous anyway. Even if she isn’t super affectionate she still gets mad when someone else is making you the center of attention. She won’t really say anything, just watches and wait. If they don’t do anything she just stays quiet for a bit and is a bit distant

Otherwise if someone is touching you without your consent. Oh boy she’s gonna say something, may even sucker punch them. That’s pretty much what she does with both situations.

K: Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Her kisses her passionate yet deep. And again, all depends on her mood. If she’s feeling affectionate and needy her kisses are rough and sloppy, like spit, tongue and everything. She likes her kisses dirty, only when alone though. In public or around other people (not that she like pda that much) she’ll give you small pecks.

She likes to kiss you on the pulse on your neck. Really anywhere on your neck, but the pulse just hits different there. She sometimes grazes her teeth over it and nibble next to it.

She loves to be kissed on her shoulder, it’s just soft and she’s a little ticklish there oddly. Even her cheek she likes it. (She’s secretly ticklish)

L: Little Ones (How are they around children?)

She fucking hates kids. HATES toddlers, she could never babysit or be around one for too long. She’s the kind of person who laughs when they fall. Yeah…wow Cairo.

M: Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

On non school nights she has you over to spend the night since she hates being alone. So you stay until the morning or stay all the next day and so on. But she’s a morning person, you aren’t (maybe). But if you aren’t she doesn’t wake you up, she honestly likes watching you sleep..not in a weird way. This is a time where she’s feeling cuddly, she might hold you and rub the bridge of your nose as you sleep, serve coffee in bed when you wake up.

If you are a early bird like her, she’s willing to make breakfast with you, go on a morning walk or even go out for breakfast

N: Night (How are nights spent with them?)

You are always over. You both are either gossiping, cuddling, she writing and you’re…doing whatever (I’d mess with her stuff) and even probably having sex. Just throwing that out there.

O: Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait awhile to reveal things slowly?)

She never really talks about herself. She’s so insecure. (relatable). So about a few months until she starts talking about personal or things that have affected her. She doesn’t really do it at all once, she’ll give you bits of info throughout dating. And you respect that, she’s just so upset and has all this anger. She spilled and broke-down in front of you about how she just wants to be loved, and you tell her she is. It’s you, Winnie. (Probably not her parents since it doesn’t seem like they even check on her)

P: Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Oh brother. The movie basically broke out how angry she is. If she doesn’t get what she wants or something doesn’t happen she gets pissed. This is something hard for you to deal with. She tends to be annoyed with you at times, but she doesn’t mean it. She’s just upset and heartbroken. Poor babygirl :(

(You may even let her fuck her anger out on you-)

Q: Quizzes (How much do they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

She remembers a lot about. She needs to know who she’s dating. Wether if you’re foolish or not so she can look out for you. (Softie)

So she makes sure she knows everything. She’ll even make sure to ask you though if she forgets. But she cannot forget you’re favorite color, that’s important to her. You’ve never understood or found out why.

R: Remember (What’s their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The time you listened to her vent to you. It was hard, and heartbreaking but she managed to vent everything to you. She loves that you listened to her, respected everything she said even if some of it was wrong. She loves that you are their to listen for her.

S: Security (How protective are they? How would they like to protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Very. I mean very. Her jealousy is a lot. If you are hurt emotionally or physically, that person won’t be alive. She scoffs whenever you call her a softie for how protective she is. She protects you by telling people to get lost or glare at them. She’s short but mighty, you’re terrified to call her that face to face. And she doesn’t need protection, she’s terrifying anyways. She has her ways of exposing or threatening. (It’s hot on how jealous and protective she gets)

T: Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

She doesn’t buy a lot of things. But she doesn’t mind dates. She’ll take you out on picnics or walks, even an expensive dinner. Cairo never fails to make the best anniversary. Wanna guess what it is? Sex! You’ve got it! Basically it’s all the anniversary is, she never goes anywhere because she’s worried her parents might yell at her because she used their money. And yes, she makes sure to take care of you when she can. But since you’re still in high school you live at your own house and manage on your own.

U: Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

She smokes way too much. You want to tell her to relax a bit on it, but scared she’ll yell at you. But she would understand if you did tell her. She might listen.

V: Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

She isn’t. She’s too sexy and confident to be. Winnie has given her that confidence. And you tell her how gorgeous she is. She is both hot and smart indeed.

W: Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Maybe. She wouldn’t feel the same, she’d be depressed and unloved. But you do let her talk about herself and vent, so she’d miss that. For sure. She’d also miss you’re silly antics and laugh. Even your touch tbh.

X: Xtra (A random headcanon for them)

She often offers to smoke with you. It’s a bonding thing. She also lets you help her with her writing, you give her tips. She loves it whenever you press nose to nose, it’s like your little love language.

Y: Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

How someone can be so unorganized. She hates unorganized people, if you are unorganized. She’s fixing that habit of yours.

She hates when her partner will be way too needy. She needs her own space at times

Z: Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

She honestly doesn’t sleep well. She tends to stay up late and write, but with you there she sleeps better because you get her to rest (in two ways).

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

:) I do have fun making these

😉if anyone wants me to do another Jenna character I will or Jenna herself

[literatureloverx]

Hiii!! good day to you☺️☺️!!! Just wanna ask something if you don't mind me🤗. In the aftercare scenario with fyodor, in the last part of it they talked about having children. Since reading that it's the only thing on my mind rn😔. I really wanna know what you think about fyodor, his darling and their children. Like would he be a good dad, an okay one or a bad one? How maby children do you think he'll have? Etc etc. Even though it's kinda impossible for him(rn) to have children since it'll probably become a problem for his plan, but can't a girl dream?🥺 Anyway tyty in advance if you answer this

(I love you so muchhhhh ahhh i wanna bite you/affectionately/😚😚. I love love the way you potray fyodor— my knees become weak every time I read one of your post! You're literally serving us a whole 5 star mchelin meal and I'm licking the plate- all utensils clean frfr😋😋. I hope you continue this and I'll be right here with the others supporting you🫶🏼🫶🏼)

Oh my gosh, I actually shed some tears here…🥺❤️

I can’t even begin to tell you how much your support means to me. Every time I read your sweet words, I get so emotional. I'm beyond grateful for your love and encouragement—it really keeps me going. ❤️

Thank you from the bottom of my heart!❤️❤️❤️

In actuality, I got two other requests about Dad!Fyodor. I wrote some headcanons about this and included a scene too, but since I don’t want to be unfair, I will post the scenario I wrote here and the headcanons in the other request ❤️

I hope you enjoy it, my dear! ❤️

Mdni, yandere behaviour, unhealthy behaviour, dad!fyodor, ideal type fem!reader, fluff, etc.

———————————

F Y O D O R D O S T O E V S K Y

Belonging

Never in his life had Fyodor calculated that he would end up in this moment. It was a delight indeed, to feel the pleasure of utter belonging. You, belonging to him. Him, belonging to you. Him, belonging to his own small family.

A small smile forms on his lips, his eyes softening as his pale, cold hand gently places itself upon your belly.

It feels so strange, in an almost tooth-rottingly sweet way. It was something he never wished for, never considered before. But since you came crashing into his life with your graceful, soft, sweet nature, hopping into his safe space, jumping over his seemingly endless high walls, everything has been changing for him.

To find himself in such a vulnerable state was frustrating. He did not handle this new information well at the beginning, at all.

After endless loneliness, he felt uncomfortable with the togetherness with someone else. Finding you and falling for you, his soulmate, his lover, was indeed a shock for his hardened heart.

But now, this? A child? His child, that you’re bearing inside your very body?

He is not someone who loses his cool easily. You softened him. Your still unborn baby, whom he can't imagine parenting as any other human being does, softened him. He has found himself dwelling on thoughts obsessively focused on you and your child. About your future.

If this had not happened simply by itself, he wouldn’t have thought of having a child. But now that you’re full with his child, smiling at him with utmost love and affection, he can't help but love your baby.

Love… such a distant word for him for decades, for hundreds of years. Humbling, but so utterly real.

“Can you feel it, my love?”

“Yes, love.”

His gaze focuses on you, the dark glimmer shining through his soft expression, a sight far too familiar to you.

“I’m amazed how we managed to produce such an energetic offspring, given our harmonious and peaceful personalities.”

His humorous comment makes you huff out a giggle, amused at his remark.

“I’m not sure if I’d describe you as such, my love…”

His eyes soften further.

“I believe that motherhood has already made you brattier, my dear. We might need to change that attitude in the near future.”

Another chuckle, this time even more heartfelt than before.

He softly kisses your forehead, his fingers gently caressing your belly.

“The medicine is working. You’re feeling less dizziness, correct?”

Fyodor being your husband has more than enough beautiful aspects to it. One of them is, indeed, his ability to see, hear, and understand everything the moment it occurs. Like now. He always knows how you’re feeling, and it is refreshing in a sweet way.

“Yes, my love. I’m doing very well. Also, I'm not lonely at all, thanks to you.”

He smiles fondly, a lazy smirk stretching out his lips. Of course you weren’t. He is often away, but he always manages to send you gifts and activities to pass the time with. You’re always surrounded by people who dote on you and do everything in their power to make you feel comfortable in your huge mansion while you wait day and night for your husband to arrive and show you his affection.

It always pays off. The waiting, the longing, the slight agony that sometimes pierces your heart and makes you miss him even more than ever.

But he always returns. Always, without a single exception.

In those times whenever you were waiting eagerly for your husband to return, you had plenty of time to think about every possible possibility. How your lives would change when your little one arrives, what kind of mother you’d be to your child, what kind of father Fyodor would be… you never once doubted him.

You trust him with all your heart and secretly, this trust gives Fyodor immense strength, even if he never verbally acknowledged it. He knows that you trust him, and your trust and love work wonders on him.

From a logical perspective, he is not someone who needs love or acknowledgment, praise or appreciation. But with you by his side, loving, appreciating, trusting, understanding, and caring for him unconditionally, he acknowledges that everything is so much more beautiful as you bestow pure joy into his previously cold and inhumane life.

Your little family already makes him feel more human. You make him feel human. Not that he thought that he ever cared about being inhuman, but it turns out that he is, indeed, not much different than other human beings.

Feeling like a human has an incredible vulnerability to it. But with you, he can’t help but bow down to his own humanity, to his own vulnerability.

“I love you...”

His eyes glimmer with a faint shadow, and you can see inside his eyes how his sentence continues.

‘…I love both of you.’

To read my other works and the backstory to this scenario => MASTERLIST