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thebunnednun · 1 day ago

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Run Away With Me

★Pairing:Aged up!Pro Hero!Boyfriend!Katsuki Bakugou x Pro Hero!Girlfriend!Reader

Synopsis: It's Valentines Day. You and Katsuki can't wait to get home.

Warning: MDNI!!! Extreme Flirting/Fluff, Wc: Short like his temper, No ageless blogs!

Based on my Bakugou x Sugar Baby fic. This is the first installment of a Valentines day series. Stay tuned.

Taglist from both of my master lists because I need to feed the cats: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, @the-dumpster-fire-of-life, @raendarkfaerie, @bunny-b34r, @icey-wonders, @adherethecomingofage, @karaartioli-blog, @meoweoeoeosme, @faithisxreading, @faithisidking, @oh-kayyy-stan-bts, @shortie-chocolate, @rosaline756. @sweetlike-sugarplum. @aespie, @dancingqueen276, @erensbbg, @lillizxzz, @1chaerry,

@valscodblog, @willnetries

The soft glow of fairy lights cast a warm, rosy hue over your bedroom as Michelle leaned in, steadying your chin between her fingers.

"Stay still," she murmured, expertly gliding the eyeliner along your lash line.

You obeyed—barely. The body glitter dusted across your collarbones and arms caught the light as you shifted, and Michelle huffed a laugh.

"You’re so fidgety," she teased.

You pout. "Are you sure this whole look isn’t too much? I feel like a teenager playing dress-up."

Michelle didn’t dignify that with an answer. Instead, she tapped your nose with her fluffy brush, making you squeak. "You look stunning. Katsuki’s gonna short-circuit."

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you quickly turned your attention to the items scattered across your princess-style vanity. The iridescent hot pink heart-shaped bag sat next to your matching fiery nails, waiting to be slung over your shoulder. Your chunky baby pink wedge heels peeked out from under your black punk-rock lace dress. Everything was perfect.

Too perfect.

As if sensing your nerves, Michelle leaned back on the stool, her orange bandeau dress hugging her curves effortlessly. Her red nails drummed against the vanity, and she smirked. "If anything goes sideways, call me. Daddy and I will come pick you up."

You groaned.

"Calling Kirishima that is still weird."

She only laughed, twisting one of her perfectly styled curls around her finger. "You and Katsuki will find your own thing. Give it time." You huffed, fingers playing with the hem of your black lace dress.

"I just feel… I don’t know. Over the top? Like I’m playing dress-up or something." Michelle didn’t even pause.

"Over the top? Girl, please. You look fine as hell." She gestured towards the mirror, where your reflection stared back at you—soft yet bold, playful yet elegant. Contrasting with your usual workwear, making the whole ensemble feel different.

New.

Exciting.

Michelle, ever the fashion expert, admired her handiwork with a satisfied nod. Her own look was just as flawless— her glossy red nails catching the light as she adjusted one of her gold earrings. Her twist-out was perfection, not a single curl out of place.

You were tempted to ask her to kiss your cheek, just to leave an imprint of her perfect lip combo for good luck, but you also knew how long it had taken her to get ready.

Instead, you sighed and wiggled your toes, feeling the slight pressure of the glittering heels you weren’t quite used to yet. "Are you sure this look is, like… in style? I feel like I time-traveled back to the 2000s."

Michelle smirked, leaning forward to prop her elbows on her knees. "You kidding? The early y2k aesthetic is making a comeback. And besides, it’s your life. You get to wear whatever you want."

That made your stomach flip. A warmth spread through your chest, different from nerves, but just as intense. You sighed, leaning back against the vanity chair, eyes drifting to the small teddy bear on your bed. He mimics his dad with that orange and black outfit. Just like Katsuki.

Your Katsuki.

A tiny, stupidly fond smile tugged at your lips.

"Wonder what they’re up to right now…"

—

The apartment smelled like expensive cologne, caramel, and a hint of coconut, thanks to the small arsenal of grooming products Kirishima had dragged into Katsuki’s bathroom. The overhead lights cast a sharp glow over the counter, illuminating the various bottles of cologne, hair gel, and skin-care products Kirishima had convinced Katsuki to try. (Which he reluctantly did, for you).

Kirishima, dressed in a sharp red and black tux that looked way too good for someone wearing Ninja Turtle socks, held up two cologne bottles.

"Alright, bro, decision time. Smoky and rugged or clean and fresh?"

Katsuki, already on edge, exhaled sharply through his nose. His leg bounced as he adjusted the black waistcoat of his hot pink and black tux, the bow tie at his throat feeling like it was actively trying to strangle him. He still wasn’t used to wearing something this polished, this formal—but he wanted to look good for you.

"Just—fuckin’ pick one," he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

Kirishima clicked his tongue. "You’re lucky I got taste." He grabbed the smoky cologne and gave Katsuki a solid three spritzes before he could protest.

"Oi—!" Katsuki hissed, glaring.

"Trust me," Kirishima grinned, unbothered. "Now, lips—coconut balm, here you go." He tossed it over, and Katsuki caught it with ease, though his scowl deepened.

As if things couldn’t get more overwhelming, the speakerphone buzzed with chaos.

"LISTEN TO ME, BRO!" Denki’s voice was the loudest, crackling through the device.

"Confidence is key! You gotta hit her with the look."

Mina cackled. "Oh my God, do NOT listen to him! Katsuki, just tell her she’s beautiful. We all know you think so." "Yeah, dude, don’t overthink it," Sero chimed in, amused. "Just be yourself.”

“Or a less feral version."

Katsuki’s jaw tensed. Easier said than done. His pulse pounded in his ears. He reluctantly unclenched his fists from his knees. This wasn’t some battlefield. It wasn’t even a stupid mission. It was just a fucking date.

With you.

Fuck, his nerves felt louder than explosions.

Kirishima, noticing the tightness in his shoulders, finally stepped in. He placed a firm hand on Katsuki’s shoulder and squeezed. Katsuki looked up into unblinking garnet and sighed through his nose.

"Dude. Breathe. You love her, right?"

Katsuki swallowed hard. Love. The word settled in his chest, heavy but honest.

He nodded once.

"Then remember that. That’s all that matters. If things feel weird, if the place sucks, if the whole night goes sideways, just leave. Do something else. You two make your own fun, anyway." Katsuki let out a slow breath. Kirishima was right. This was for you.

It wasn’t about perfect execution—it was about being together.

"Three things," Kirishima continued, grinning. "Be yourself. Compliment her. And communicate. Talk, dude. You’re only gonna get better at this if you open your mouth."

Katsuki rolled his eyes but let the advice sink in. Finally, he pushed himself to his feet.

"Let’s go before I go into fuckin' cardiac arrest."

Kirishima whooped. "That’s the spirit!" He slung an arm around Katsuki’s shoulder as they grabbed the gifts—flowers, small personal surprises—before making their way out.

Upstairs, you were waiting.

—

A sharp knock echoed through the apartment.

Michelle, already smirking, turned her head dramatically toward the door. “Hmmm… wonder who that could be?”

You rolled your eyes, lips quirking up as you reached for your bag. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the dates we’ve been getting ready for the past hour?”

Before you could stand, Michelle grabbed your chin with one hand and, with a single practiced motion, swiped a generous coat of cherry gloss over your lips. The scent was sweet, rich, and just a little sticky.

“There. Perfection,” she declared before tugging you up to your feet. “Phone, purse?”

You patted your iridescent hot pink heart-shaped bag before nodding. “Check.”

Michelle, always prepared, already had her own red heart-shaped purse slung over her shoulder. She shot you a wink before making her way to the door. You heard the click of the lock, then—

“Hey, beautiful.”

Kirishima’s voice was warm, full of easy affection as he leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to Michelle’s cheek. She hummed in approval, tilting her head up slightly like she was already expecting it.

“Well, aren’t you a gentleman tonight?” Michelle mused, looping an arm around his bicep as she gave him an exaggerated once-over. “Damn, Eiji, you clean up nice.”

Kirishima chuckled, standing a little straighter. “Had to match my date, obviously.”

You watched their interaction fondly before Kirishima finally turned his attention to you. His smile widened. “And wow, you—” He paused, eyes briefly scanning your outfit before he let out a brotherly smile.

“You look amazing.”

Feeling playful, you gave him a small, teasing bow. “Why, thank you. You’re looking sharp yourself.”

Kirishima beamed—right before something hit him square in the arm.

“Ow—” He barely had time to react before a very familiar explosive presence stepped into the doorway behind him, scowling.

Katsuki’s hands were full—flowers, a neatly wrapped gift, and something tucked under his arm. He looked at you, then at the door, then back at you, blinking.

You gave him a small wave.

Katsuki blinked again.

Then, without a word, he tore his gaze away and scanned your apartment like it was foreign territory.

Your apartment was a cozy, eclectic mix of nostalgia, comfort, and personality—a space that felt undeniably yours. The living room was a reflection of that, bursting with the soft, warm hues of early 2000s aesthetics mixed with fan-sent decorations and personal touches that made the place feel lived-in.

The walls were painted in a soft, rosy blush, giving the room a dreamy warmth that always seemed to glow, even at night. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books, cute trinkets, and memorabilia—some from your past, some gifts from fans, and some just random knick-knacks Michelle had convinced you to buy during one of your many shopping sprees.

A large, fluffy pink area rug covered most of the floor, plush beneath your feet, a stark contrast to the sleek black coffee table in the center of the room. The table itself was decorated with small candles, a glass tray filled with assorted crystal charms, and a few scattered magazines—some featuring you in your rising pro-hero career, others filled with celebrity gossip and fashion trends.

Against one wall sat a sleek white entertainment center, housing a large flat-screen TV mounted above it. Below, there were neatly stacked DVDs (a mix of action flicks, romance movies, and animated classics), along with a pink Hello Kitty gaming console that Michelle had gotten you as a joke but that you actually adored. A tiny disco ball hung off the corner of the shelf, catching light from the floor lamp nearby, sending tiny glimmers across the room whenever you moved.

“Uh, you can put that down wherever,” you offered, suppressing a smile. “Thanks, by the way.”

His jaw shifted slightly, but he nodded, stepping inside as you moved to close the door behind him. The scent of his cologne—smoky, warm, and utterly him—lingered in the air as he passed you, and you swallowed, a tiny warmth curling in your stomach.

Meanwhile, Kirishima, still standing by Michelle, sighed dramatically.

“Can I come in, or do I have to stand in the hallway like a weirdo?”

Michelle turned, one perfectly arched brow raised.

“I don’t know… you kinda give off door-to-door ax murderer vibes.” Kirishima immediately turned red.

“Wha—what?! I’m literally in a tux!”

“If anything, that makes it worse,” Michelle mused, tapping a perfectly manicured finger to her chin.

“Handsome stranger? Deranged killer? I could go either way.”

Kirishima groaned, running a hand down his face. “I swear, every time I visit, I leave more flustered than when I came.” Michelle patted his chest like she was proud. “Good. Keeps you on your toes.”

He exhales in defeat before letting her drag him into the kitchen for some water and to accept his ‘gram basket’—which you were sure was filled with an assortment of thoughtful snacks and homemade goodies.

That left you and Katsuki.

He was still standing there, hands now empty but stiff at his sides. His sharp red eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

The weight of the evening settled between you.

Feeling just a little shy, you lifted a hand again in a smaller wave.

He still didn’t wave back—because he looked a little stuck. But he did take a breath, then finally walked over to the couch and sat down. You followed, smoothing out your dress before lowering yourself beside him.

The couch was the real star of the space—big, soft, and overstuffed, covered in a variety of throw blankets and decorative pillows in shades of pink, cream, and deep wine red. Some of the pillows had cute sayings embroidered on them, like "Princess Energy Only," while others had sequins that flipped to reveal different colors when you ran your hand over them. One of them, a gift from a fan, had your hero name ‘Tempest’ embroidered in swirling gold thread.

At the corner of the room sat a vintage-style record player, next to a small stack of vinyl records—some gifted, some collected from your own adventures in the city. A neon pink heart-shaped light was mounted above it, casting a soft, romantic glow over the area.

Near the entrance, a coat rack held a mix of jackets, scarves, and one of Michelle’s many oversized tote bags, always full of who-knew-what. A small glass table sat beside it, topped with a bowl filled with candy, spare keys, and an assortment of hair ties and lip glosses for quick grabs before heading out.

For a second, you both just sat there.

Nervous energy filled the air, but it wasn’t bad—just… heavy. Like there was too much to say and no idea where to start. You fiddled with the zipper of your purse. “You smell nice,” you murmured.

Katsuki, who had just leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, froze.

A beat passed.

Then—a very quiet, very flustered,

“...Thanks.”

And just like that, the tension cracked, replaced with something softer.

Katsuki shifts beside you, adjusting his grip on the small but carefully wrapped box in his hands. His shoulders are stiff, and his red eyes flicker between you and the gift, like he's still debating if he should give it to you now or wait until later.

Then, in true Bakugou fashion, he just holds it toward you, clearing his throat.

“Here,” he grumbles. “It’s okay if you open it now or later.”

Your lips twitch into a knowing smile as you accept the package, feeling the weight of it in your hands. But before you can even start untying the delicate ribbon, he shifts again, like he’s got something else to say but doesn’t quite know how to get it out. He exhales sharply, running a tense hand through his styled hair, before finally blurting,

“And… I’m sorry for bein’ so tight-lipped earlier.” His jaw clenches, and he looks to the side, not quite meeting your gaze. “I just… I really think you look beautiful, and I’m trying not to be some weirdo by starin’.”

For a moment, you just blink at him, caught off guard by the rare, unfiltered compliment. But then, your grin grows wider, and a small, amused laugh bubbles out of you.

“Katsuki,” you say, soft but teasing, “It’s okay. That’s literally the whole purpose of the outfit.” You gesture to yourself with a flourish, making the iridescent hot pink bag on your lap shimmer in the light.

“I mean, I didn’t think you were a hot pink tux kinda guy either, but here we are.”

That gets him to finally look at you again, his expression both flustered and annoyed as a faint pink dusts his cheeks.

“Tch—got a tip from Michelle,” he admits, adjusting his waistcoat like it’s suddenly suffocating him.

You nod, knowingly. “Ah, that makes sense.”

He huffs before finally straightening up, reaching to grab something else he had tucked under his arm—a bouquet wrapped in crisp, delicate paper. The scent of fresh roses and sweet pea blooms fills the space between you as he carefully hands it over.

“Here,” he says, quieter this time, eyes flicking between your expression and the flowers.

“This one’s… for you.”

You take the bouquet carefully, fingers brushing over the soft petals, heart warming at the gesture. But before you can even say anything, he’s already reaching for another item—a second bouquet, wrapped in warm orange tones.

“And this one’s for Michelle,” he adds, nodding toward the kitchen.

You glance toward the doorway, where Michelle is still playfully toying with Kirishima, laughing about something that’s got him blushing down to his collar.

You can’t help but smile as you look back at him. “She’s gonna love it,” you say, tucking the bouquet against your chest before looking back at him. “And… thank you, Katsuki. Really.”

He just grunts, scratching the back of his neck, clearly still not used to receiving gratitude so directly from you. But there’s no mistaking the way his eyes soften slightly as he watches you admire the flowers he picked out just for you.

You’re still admiring the bouquet when Michelle reemerges from the kitchen, Kirishima trailing behind her, looking thoroughly flustered but grinning nonetheless.

“Ooh, flowers for me?” Michelle coos as you hand over the orange-toned bouquet. She gives Katsuki an approving nod. “Well, well, look at you, Mr. Romantic. You boys are starting strong tonight.”

Kirishima chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “I told you Bakugou could be thoughtful when he tries.”

“Shut up,” Katsuki grumbles, crossing his arms but not actually denying it.

Michelle leans into her flowers, inhaling deeply before flashing Kirishima a playful smile. “Alright, Red, you get a pass—for now.” She shoots you a wink, making you snicker as she carefully sets her bouquet on the kitchen counter. As everyone starts gathering their things, you grab your heart-shaped bag and your phone, making sure everything is in place before turning to the group.

“Alright, so, are we taking my car or—”

“Absolutely not.”

“Immediately no.”

“I’d rather die.”

Kirishima, Michelle, and Katsuki shut that down so fast it’s almost comedic. Michelle holds up a hand like she’s cutting off an intrusive thought.

“I’m not even entertaining that as a real suggestion.”

Kirishima lets out a lighthearted laugh, shaking his head. “I think your car deserves a night of rest. You know, for all the hard work it’s been put through.”

“Yeah,” Katsuki deadpans, grabbing his keys from his pocket.

“Permanently.”

You gasp dramatically, clutching your chest. “Excuse me? The disrespect for my precious lemon!”

Your beloved, beat-up, barely-roadworthy 2001 Saturn has been through hell and back—scraped up, spray-painted in places, sporting a horrendous DIY tint job that looks more like someone just slapped black plastic wrap on the windows. It rattles when it starts, wheezes like a geriatric smoker in the winter, and has exactly one functioning window. But damn it, it’s yours, and you’ve refused every single one of Katsuki’s (very generous) offers to replace it.

“That thing ain’t a lemon—it’s a damn biohazard,” Katsuki grumbles as he grabs his jacket. “You’re lucky it hasn’t exploded yet.”

Michelle snorts, shaking her head. “Girl, I love you, but I’m not risking my life in that thing tonight. My heels are too cute to die in a tragic automobile accident.”

You roll your eyes. “You guys are just haters.”

“Yeah, yeah, keep tellin’ yourself that,” Katsuki mutters before nodding toward the door. “Let’s go.”

Downstairs, his very not-biohazardous orange Ferrari is waiting in its designated parking space, sleek and polished under the garage’s dim lighting. A few spots over, Kirishima’s new red Mustang sits with a shine so pristine you’re sure he’s been babying it. After all, the only reason he even got the car was because Michelle made it very clear she wasn’t hopping on the back of his motorcycle in this dress.

You glance between the two luxury vehicles and huff.

“You guys are soooo boring with your functional, ‘safe’, and expensive cars.”

“Yeah, ‘cause we don’t wanna die,” Katsuki says, tossing his keys in his hand. “Now get in.”

With a dramatic sigh, you slide into the passenger seat of his Ferrari, Michelle and Kirishima heading for the Mustang. The second your seatbelt clicks into place, Katsuki turns to you, expression softening just a little.

“…You ready for this?”

You glance over at him, at the way his grip tightens on the steering wheel like he’s trying to shake off nerves of his own. A small smile tugs at your lips as you nod.

“With you? Always.”

The moment you arrive at the restaurant, you're hit with the flashing strobe of camera lights and the chaotic blur of the city nightlife. The valet barely has time to open the car door before people start calling Katsuki’s name—photographers, fans, and even a few reporters eager to get a shot of Dynamight on his high-profile Valentine’s date.

“Damn it,” Katsuki mutters under his breath, jaw clenching as he instinctively shields you with his body. His hand hovers near your lower back, firm but hesitant, like he wants to pull you in closer but doesn’t want to overstep.

You can already hear the murmurs and gasps.

“Is that Tempest?” “They look good together.” “She’s been making headlines lately—did you see her last rescue?” “I thought she’d be dating someone quieter…” “They’re so different. I wonder how that works?”

Your fingers twitch against the strap of your bag, shoulders tensing as a flash goes off right in your face. ‘Okay, wow. That’s bright.’ You blink rapidly, trying to shake off the afterimage burned into your vision.

Kirishima and Michelle pull up behind you in the Mustang, and within seconds, Michelle is at your side, looping her arm through yours as if she can sense your rising discomfort. “Ignore ‘em, babe,” she murmurs, voice dripping with practiced ease. “They’re just mad they ain’t you.”

You huff out a quiet laugh, but it doesn’t quite settle the unease twisting in your stomach.

Katsuki, on the other hand, looks pissed. His brows are furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line as he glares at the paparazzi like they personally offended him. You reach for his hand, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. He glances down, expression softening just a fraction before he squeezes back.

“We’re already here,” you whisper. “Might as well enjoy it, right?”

He exhales sharply, rolling his shoulders. “Tch. Yeah.”

Together, the four of you push past the flashing lights and noise, stepping into the grand entrance of the restaurant.

Inside, the atmosphere is nothing short of luxurious. The air is thick with the aroma of rich spices and sizzling gourmet dishes. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the dimly lit space, illuminating pristine white tablecloths, towering floral arrangements, and sleek leather chairs. Celebrities, politicians, and high-profile heroes are scattered throughout, dressed in designer ensembles, murmuring over glasses of expensive wine.

A hostess, dressed in a polished black ensemble, greets you with a dazzling smile. “Welcome to Lumière. Right this way.”

As you follow her through the restaurant, you can feel the eyes on you. Some subtle, others not so much. You and Katsuki aren’t exactly low-profile at this point—especially not together. You hear the hush of whispered gossip, the occasional glance thrown your way, and the distinct click of cameras from people who definitely aren’t just taking pictures of their food.

Katsuki’s grip on your hand tightens.

You glance at him and grimace. “You’re squeezing the life outta my fingers.”

“Shit. Sorry,” he mutters, loosening his hold.

You shake your head. “It’s fine.”

The four of you are led to an elegant booth tucked near the large glass windows overlooking the city. The nighttime skyline glows with neon lights and passing car beams, a stark contrast to the quiet, intimate space inside. You slide into the seat next to Katsuki, smoothing down your dress as a waiter approaches.

“Good evening,” he greets, setting down the menus. “Can I start you off with something to drink?”

Michelle orders a cocktail, Kirishima gets a whiskey on the rocks, and you request a sparkling juice, feeling like you might need something refreshing to handle the stares still lingering in your direction. Katsuki just grunts, “Same as hers,” jerking his chin toward you.

The waiter nods before slipping away, leaving you and Katsuki to glance at each other, both of you sitting stiff as boards. Michelle and Kirishima seem perfectly at ease, chatting away like they don’t even notice the atmosphere. But you and Katsuki? You can feel the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

You clear your throat, trying to shake the nerves. “So… you look really nice.”

Katsuki tugs at his bowtie like it’s strangling him. “You too.”

A pause.

You glance at him. He glances at you. Then you both look away, awkward as hell.

Kirishima snickers. “Man, you two are so new at this.” Michelle sips her drink, nodding in agreement.

“Painfully so.”

You groan, dropping your face into your hands. “Don’t remind me.” Katsuki scowls at his menu.

“Shut the hell up.”

You peek at him from between your fingers and snicker. “What? You can take down villains like it’s nothing, but a date makes you break out in hives?” He clicks his tongue, gripping the menu a little too tight. “Ain’t my fault there’s a damn spotlight on us right now.”

And yeah, you do get it. The pressure, the stares, the constant expectation to perform. It’s exhausting.

The weight of every pair of eyes in the restaurant presses down on you like a thick, suffocating fog. Whispers swirl around the room, slipping through the air like tendrils of smoke, curling around you and Katsuki in an unshakable haze.

You can hear them—people murmuring about your outfits, about your relationship, about whether or not you fit together. As if they fucking know what the two of you have been through together.

Cameras from discreetly lifted phones flash in your direction, capturing stolen moments of your date like you’re some kind of exhibit.

Your stomach twists. ‘We’ll be on the internet tomorrow.’ There’s no avoiding it. Headline after headline dissecting your body language, your facial expressions, the way Katsuki’s knee bounces under the table like he’s trying to shake off the nerves crawling under his skin.

You glance at him. He looks miserable.

Katsuki’s shoulders are tense, his jaw clenched so tight you think he might crack a tooth. His fingers twitch against his menu, gripping it like a lifeline. He’s trying so hard to keep his cool, to ignore the way people are practically gawking, waiting for him to snap or make a scene. You know he wants to drag you out of here, shield you from all the eyes dissecting your every move.

But he’s staying.

For you.

In Katsuki’s head, he’s telling himself to just grit and bear it. To be strong for you. He doesn’t want to ruin this—your first Valentine’s Day together. He wants to be the kind of boyfriend who can take you to fancy places, treat you to a night you’ll remember forever. He wants to try because he knows you deserve effort, deserve to be taken out, deserve to feel special.

But the people are unbearable.

And he can see it in your face—the way you’re trying to fake ease, the way your fingers tighten around your bag strap, the way you keep shifting in your seat like you just want to disappear.

His chest tightens. ‘This isn’t fun for either of us.’

But it doesn’t have to be this way.

You sit up, leaning closer to whisper, “You wanna get outta here?”

Katsuki blinks, turning to you fully.

“…What?”

You tilt your head toward the exit.

“I mean, I know we’re supposed to be ‘classy’ and all, but this isn’t really us, is it?”

His eyes flicker between your face and the crowded restaurant. His fingers drum against the table before he finally exhales, nodding.

“Yeah. Let’s bounce.”

Without another word, you both stand up, drawing confused looks from the other two.

“Where are you guys—”

“We’re leaving,” Katsuki cuts in, already pulling out his wallet to toss more than enough cash on the table.

Michelle raises a brow but smirks. “About time.” Kirishima just laughs. “Enjoy your date, lovebirds.”

The moment Katsuki grabs your hand, the two of you don’t even hesitate. You’re up from your seats, fingers locked together, hearts pounding as you wordlessly decide—we’re out of here.

Kirshima’s laugh booms across the restaurant as he throws his fist in the air. “Yeah! That’s my boy!”

Michelle smirks over the rim of her glass, raising it in a toast to your escape. “Bout damn time,” she mutters before taking a sip, entirely unsurprised.

The cameras go off like fireworks, a rapid flicker of flashes as you and Katsuki make your break for it.

He doesn’t bother to hide his irritation, lifting his right hand to flip the paparazzi the middle finger. You just grin, holding up a peace sign as if this is some casual night out instead of a full-blown getaway.

Laughter bubbles up in your chest as you both burst through the doors, stepping into the crisp night air with wild grins. Your heels click against the pavement as you sprint beside him, hand in hand, breathless and exhilarated.

But together.

Katsuki's orange Ferrari is somewhere in the valet lot, but neither of you care. You just run—away from the stares, the pressure, the expectation—until all that’s left is the sound of your laughter and the way your fingers fit so perfectly together.

Katsuki squeezes your hand. “So… where to?”

You grin. “The park.”

Katsuki’s car beeps from across the valet lot as he smashes the panic button, the lights flashing like a beacon in the night. You both spot it at the same time, making a beeline for the sleek, orange machine.

“You’re just lucky I snatched the keys back,” he grumbles, smirking as you shove his arm in response. Before you can reach for the door handle, he’s already there, pulling you back with a firm grip on your waist.

“Oi. Lemme do it.”

You roll your eyes but let him open the door, a teasing smile playing on your lips as he steps aside dramatically to let you in. You slip into the seat, tossing your purse and phone into the back, watching as he rounds the front and slides into the driver’s seat with effortless ease.

The second the doors shut, the engine roars to life, and before you know it, Katsuki is tearing down the highway at a cool 73, the city lights blurring past. The roads are surprisingly empty, giving you both the perfect excuse to crank up the radio and belt out whatever song is playing, off-key and full volume, laughing between the lyrics.

It’s easy. It’s fun.

It’s you two.

As the car weaves through the city center, he spots the park up ahead and, in true Katsuki fashion, completely disregards proper parking. He pulls right up to the entrance, puts the car in park, and before he can even kill the engine, you’re already unbuckling and throwing the door open.

You leap out, your heels clicking against the pavement before they sink slightly into the soft grass. With a wild grin, you take off into the open space, arms spread wide as you spin beneath the night sky. The crisp air fills your lungs, the distant city hum fading into the background.

Then you spot it—the unmistakable flash of spiky blond and hot pink barreling toward you.

With a shriek, you turn on your heel and run.

Your laughter rings through the park as you bolt toward the swings, the cool night air rushing past you. Katsuki is right behind you, his footsteps heavy against the grass, closing the distance faster than you’d like.

"You think you can outrun me?!" he taunts, his voice sharp with amusement.

You glance back over your shoulder, only to see him smirking—eyes locked onto you like a predator honing in on his prey. "I know I can!" you shoot back, breathless but grinning as you push your legs harder.

"Yeah?" Katsuki huffs, barely winded. "That why I'm about to catch your ass?"

You yelp, dodging left just as he reaches for you, barely slipping out of his grasp. "Cheater!" you cry, laughing as you pick up speed.

"Cheater? I'm just faster!"

The swings come into view, and with one final burst of energy, you throw yourself forward, landing in one of the seats with a triumphant squeal. You grip the chains, panting, a wild grin plastered on your face.

"Safe!"

Katsuki slows to a stop right in front of you, planting his hands on his hips as he glares down at you, feigning offense. "Safe?" he scoffs. "What, this a game of tag now?"

You nod, grinning as you pump your legs slightly, making the swing rock. "And guess what? You lost."

His eyes narrow, and before you can react, he grabs the chains of your swing, stilling you completely.

"Lost?" he repeats, voice low, teasing. "I let you win."

You snort. "Oh, surrre. And I’m the number one hero."

Katsuki leans in, close enough that you can see the mischief dancing in his crimson eyes. "Yeah, well," he mutters,

"You are my number one."

Your breath catches, your fingers tightening around the chains as heat blooms across your face. You look away, biting your lip.

"That was corny as hell."

He clicks his tongue. "Whatever." But you can see the smirk tugging at his lips as he lets go of the swing and takes the seat next to you.

For a moment, you both just sit there, the world fading away, the city lights twinkling in the distance. Then, you glance at him and murmur,

"I like this way more than the restaurant."

Katsuki exhales, his fingers flexing against the swing’s chains.

"Same."

Katsuki exhales, tilting his head back slightly as he swings, boots barely skimming the ground. You watch him for a moment, the way the park lights cast a golden hue over his skin, the sharp angles of his face softening in the cool night air. Then, without a word, he shifts forward on the swing and angles his head toward you.

"Hey," he mutters, voice quieter now. "Look."

You blink, sitting up straighter as he drops his chin and rakes a hand through his hair, pushing the blond strands back to reveal the freshly shaved undercut. Your breath hitches as you take in the sight of your name, sharp and precise, carved into his blonde like it was always meant to be there.

Your heart stutters.

"No way."

He doesn’t say anything, just keeps his head lowered, waiting for your reaction like he’s bracing for impact. But all you do is lift a hand, fingertips ghosting over the etched letters. He shudders under your touch, and you grin, trailing your nails lightly over the buzzed hair, tracing each letter with reverence.

"You did this today?" you murmur, voice softer now.

He huffs.

"Yeah."

Your fingers linger a little longer before you shift closer, pressing your forehead against his. He exhales through his nose, shoulders visibly relaxing as your warmth sinks into him. His hands come up, gripping the chains of his swing tightly like he needs to ground himself.

"So," you whisper, the words brushing against his lips, "Should I do the same?"

Katsuki pulls back slightly, eyes flicking up to yours. "Tch. It’s your hair," he grumbles, "But I’d rather get you more of my merch than go cutting anythin' into it." You huff, lips twisting in playful disappointment.

"Lame answer, Suki."

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he tilts his head back again, eyes drifting up to the sky. You follow his gaze, watching the stars twinkle in the vast stretch of darkness. For a moment, neither of you speak. The world is quiet except for the distant hum of the city, the soft creak of the swings, and the steady rhythm of your breathing.

Then, Katsuki shifts slightly, just enough that his pinky brushes against yours where your hands rest on the swing’s chain. It’s small, barely there, but it sends a warmth through your chest that rivals the stars above.

“Damn it, I am a grown woman!” you shout, frustration and flustered warmth bubbling over as you grab his pinky with your whole hand, locking him in your grip.

Katsuki barks out a laugh, the sound breaking through the quiet night, raw and unfiltered. His shoulders shake, eyes crinkling at the corners as he throws his head back in full-bodied amusement. You swear you can feel the vibration of his laughter in your chest.

Still grinning, he exhales through his nose and flexes his fingers in your grasp.

“Hey… can I just—” He hesitates for a beat, then his voice drops, almost sheepish.

“Lemme just hold your hand, yeah?”

You huff like it’s a grand request but nod anyway.

“You better keep holding it, even when you get sweaty.”

Katsuki snorts before swiftly wiping his palm against his pant leg.

“As you wish, princess” he grumbles, but then he’s threading his fingers through yours properly, interlocking them like it’s second nature. Like it’s always been meant to be this way.

And God, it feels good.

Feels right.

Like warmth spreading from your fingertips to the deepest parts of your chest. Like everything in the world finally clicked into place with one simple touch.

The two of you just sit there, breathing, hands locked together, letting the moment settle between you like a whispered secret. Then, slowly, inevitably, you both look at each other at the same time.

Your stomach plummets.

Your heart does the Cha Cha Slide—full-on electric slide to the left, right, crisscross, and a double-time stomp straight into a mess of feelings you don’t know how to handle.

Katsuki isn’t faring any better. His ears are blood red, the heat creeping down his neck. His grip on your hand tightens minutely, like he’s afraid to let go. Those old war wounds on his heart aren’t doing any better either but what's a little tachycardia in the name of true love?

His hand is so warm and so clammy, but neither of you move to separate.

You just stare at each other, wide-eyed and breathless, and hold on tighter.

Refusing to let go.

You squeeze his hand lightly, your thumb brushing over the rough callouses on his palm before you murmur, "Y'know… you really do pull off pink pretty damn well."

Katsuki scoffs, rolling his eyes, but you catch the way the corner of his lips twitch upward. "Thanks." He shifts on the swing, still holding your hand, eyes flicking between your face and the Ferris wheel in the distance.

"You—uh…" He clears his throat, voice dipping a little lower. "Your dress. I like it. The… vampire thing you got goin’ on."

You snicker, leaning into him with a playful nudge. "’S Gothic’’ or whatever the lady at the store said.”

Katsuki tilts his head, considering for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. That."

Conversation lulls into something easy and quiet, your fingers still laced together, swinging slightly with the motion of your legs. The park is mostly empty, save for the occasional couple strolling down the pathway, wrapped up in their own little world. Above you, the sky is vast and open, the moon hanging heavy among the twinkling stars, bathing everything in soft silver light.

Your hands start to swing back and forth naturally, a gentle rhythm forming between you, and you grin. "Wanna play 21 questions?"

Katsuki snorts. "Dumbass, you already started. That’s question one."

You gasp, playfully scandalized. "That does not count!"

"It absolutely counts."

You shoot him a look before humming in thought. "Fine. What’s your favorite parent memory?"

His thumb absentmindedly rubs against your knuckle as he thinks, his brows furrowing just slightly.

"Probably when I figured out my quirk for the first time. I nearly blew up the damn house. Scared the shit outta my mom." He smirks at the memory, and you laugh, already picturing it. "What ‘bout you?"

"Hmmm…" You swing your legs, leaning back slightly. "Probably when I got my first set of heels. My mom said they were too grown-up, but my dad let me have them anyway. I felt like a princess."

Katsuki hums, eyes flickering down to your baby pink wedge heels. "Guess it stuck, huh?"

You stick your tongue out at him. "Damn right it did."

And just like that, the game continues—questions and laughter traded back and forth, the rest of the world fading into the background. You ask him about his dream vacation (somewhere warm, quiet, and not filled with annoying extras), he asks you about your first celebrity crush (which you refuse to answer, claiming it’s classified information), and somewhere in between, the swings slow to a stop, and you’re both looking at each other with that soft, knowing kind of gaze that only soulmates share.

Then, like an unspoken challenge, you shoot up from your seat and dart toward the jungle gym.

"Bet I can get to the top before you!"

"Like hell you can!"

And suddenly, you’re running.

Through the cool night air, across the damp grass, your heels clicking against the ground as you sprint toward the monkey bars. Katsuki is right behind you, his laughter loud and unrestrained as he chases you like a predator hunting its prey. You dodge left, then right, before shrieking as his hands nearly snatch your waist.

"Too slow, old man!"

"What’d you just call me, you little shit—?!"

Before you know it, you’re both climbing the jungle gym, ducking behind slides, swinging off bars, and giggling like a couple of kids with no worries in the world. Katsuki nearly slips on the bridge, cursing up a storm as you cheer for his failure, only to yelp when he vaults over the rail and corners you at the top of the slide.

"Nowhere left to run, pretty girl."

"Who said I was running?"

Then you shove him down the slide.

Katsuki lets out a startled yell before tumbling down, hitting the ground with a thud. He stares up at the sky, blinking, as you double over laughing at the top of the playground.

"You’re dead," he growls, jumping to his feet, and you screech before flying down the slide after him, sprinting across the park once again.

But before he can grab you, the flash of red and blue lights catches your attention.

Both of you freeze.

A local police officer sits in his patrol car near the entrance of the park, flashing his headlights twice. It’s not an official warning, just a subtle little, “Alright, kids, time to wrap it up.”

You and Katsuki exchange a look before, in perfect sync, you bolt.

"Go, go, go—!"

He snatches your hand, leading you toward the Ferrari parked haphazardly on the curb. The second you’re both inside, he’s peeling out of the park, leaving nothing behind but tire marks and the sound of your shared laughter echoing through the empty streets.

"We are so getting arrested one day," you giggle, breathless, as you lean your head against the seat. Katsuki smirks, reaching over to squeeze your knee. "Not if they can’t catch us."

The city lights blur past as he drives, heading toward the only place that matters—home.

By the time you step into your apartment, you’re still catching your breath from laughing so hard. Your cheeks are warm, your hands are sore from gripping Katsuki’s the entire ride home, and your heart is still doing little somersaults in your chest.

Katsuki lingers by the door as you lock it behind him, his hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders still a little tense from the adrenaline of the night.

But then he looks at you—really looks at you, bathed in the golden glow of your living room lamp, your makeup slightly smudged from the wind, your dress shifting with your movements—and something in him eases.

His fingers brush against yours, grounding himself in the warmth of your skin. "Can I see your room?"

You raise a brow at the sudden request, amused. "Why?"

His eyes flicker to the hallway, then back to you. "‘Cause last time, I had to watch you through glass."

Your breath catches slightly, remembering that first night—the strip club, the hazy neon lights, the way his eyes never left you through the frosted glass as you danced, how you both connected before even realizing it. You nod, grabbing his wrist, and lead him down the hall.

Your bedroom is exactly as he imagined—soft, warm, you. The princess-style furniture, the early 2000s knickknacks, the plush bed with pink sheets, the iridescent heart-shaped bag gets tossed on the vanity. But what catches his attention is the changing divider standing in the corner, the same way it did that first night he came across your stream.

He steps forward, eyes tracing the delicate panels, and lifts a hand.

With the tip of his finger, he starts to trace a heart onto the surface—slow, deliberate.

Just like you did that night, pressed against the frosted glass of the club, your eyes meeting his through the hazy barrier.

But before he can finish, you reach forward and pull it away.

Katsuki barely has time to react before you step into his space, pressing your smaller hand against his. Your palm is warm, soft, slotting perfectly against his rougher one.

Then, without hesitation, you wrap your arms around his middle and hug him tight.

"This is what you wanted," you whisper against his chest.

Katsuki exhales, something inside him unraveling as he wraps his arms around you, pressing his chin to the top of your head.

"Yeah," he murmurs, holding you closer. "It is."

A song plays from your phone’s speaker, soft and familiar.

Loyalty.

The same song from that first night. The one that bound you together before either of you even realized what was happening. But this time, you’re not the one moving. Katsuki stands at the foot of your bed, rolling his shoulders, cracking his knuckles.

"Alright, princess. You had your turn. Now it’s mine."

Your brows lift. "You’re gonna dance for me?"

He clicks his tongue. "Fuck yeah I am."

You bite back a grin, settling onto your bed, crossing your legs as he steps forward.

The beat kicks in, and Katsuki starts to move.

It’s not perfect—his footwork is a little too heavy, his rhythm a little rough—but he’s feeling it. His hands glide over his waistcoat, his fingers curling into the lapels before sliding down his chest. He moves slow, deliberate, almost cocky, keeping his smoldering gaze locked onto yours.

Your breath stutters.

He steps closer, body rolling just enough to make your face burn, tilting his head like he owns the moment.

And he does.

Because this time, there’s no glass between you. No stage, no stares—just him, dancing for you, showing you what you’ve always made him feel. When the song ends, he stops right in front of you, breath steady, smirking.

"Tch. Bet you weren’t expecting that."

You blink, lips parted, before laughing. "I literally have no words right now."

Katsuki chuckles, reaching for your hand, pulling you up just enough for him to plop onto your bed, dragging you down with him.

And just like that, the teasing melts into something softer.

You curl into him, your head tucked beneath his chin, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. He strokes a hand over your back, savoring the warmth of your body against his.

The TV flickers in the dimly lit room, playing some cheesy romance movie you both aren’t paying attention to. Instead, you talk—about everything, about nothing.

Until he shifts slightly, clearing his throat.

"When we get married would you get matching piercings with me?"

You blink, peeking up at him.

"Matching piercings?"

"Yeah. And a tattoo." He brushes his thumb against your wrist. "Ring finger and behind the ear. Thought about it a lot. Think your name’d look real pretty on me."

Your heart skips. "Oh?"

He grunts. "Been drawing some designs up. Just for us."

You grin.

"Like what?"

Without hesitation, he reaches for the drawing pad he left by your bed, flipping through pages before stopping and tilting it toward you.

A zentangle. Intricate, swirling patterns weaving together seamlessly, and at the very end of the design—a heart.

Just like the one you had once traced on glass.

Something swells in your chest, something too big to name, too warm to hold back. You cup his cheek, tracing your thumb over his skin, before whispering, "It’s perfect."

Katsuki exhales, pressing his forehead against yours.

Because that’s just what you are.

Katsuki inhales deeply, his forehead still pressed to yours, the warmth of his skin seeping into you, grounding you. His hand finds your waist, his thumb brushing circles against the fabric of your dress, his breath fanning against your lips—close but not quite touching.

The weight of the night settles in. The laughter, the rush of running hand-in-hand, the feeling of being completely seen—no cameras, no expectations, just you and him.

"Y’know," he murmurs, voice low, steady,

"I loved you before I even knew you."

Your breath catches.

Katsuki pulls back just enough to look at you, his crimson eyes holding something fierce, something unwavering. "Back then,didn’t even know your name yet, but—fuck." He shakes his head, a small, breathless laugh slipping out. "You had me, princess. You had me from the start."

Your fingers trail up the nape of his neck, brushing the freshly etched letters of your name in his undercut. Your heart is pounding—so loud, you swear he can hear it—but you don’t care.

"Me too," you whisper.

"I loved you before I even knew you."

His lips part, like he wasn’t expecting you to say it back, like the confirmation of something he already knew still knocks the breath out of him.

Then, with no hesitation, he kisses you.

It’s slow—gentle��like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your lips, the way you sigh softly against him, the way your fingers fist into his skin like you never want to let go. Katsuki’s senses are flooded immediately with the scent of you and he’s basically drunk off that one kiss from you.

Who could blame him though?

You don’t.

When you finally part, your noses still brush, your breaths mingling.

"Gimme your hand," he mutters.

You do, and he turns it over, pressing his lips to the center of your palm before lacing his fingers with yours, holding on tight. He then places them right over his heavy beating heart that you love so much.

"Keep holding me," you whisper.

He grins, wiping his free hand against his pant leg before squeezing yours.

"Forever."

The movie plays on in the background, forgotten, as you both sink into each other—wrapped up in warmth, in laughter, in the feeling of something solid, something certain.

Because this—this—is all you’ll ever need.

Loyalty

I DON'T OWN THE IMAGES!!!!

For Valentines day, I hosted a poll about the fic's I have cooking in the oven from my mha 'Fuck it, I got you,' series and this was the first winner. As promised, some info about the relationship between you and Kats.

Main fic in question: Loyalty. This story is about how you get broken up with by your asshole hero ex and accidentally meet Katsuki while working as a stripper. Hijinks ensue, (Like the ex tryin to kill you) and honestly, it's a good read (biased I know) and still ongoing. I like to imagine that this fic takes place afterwards.

The best way I could describe the relationship is that it's like you both met your soulmate and are now trying to figure out what to do because you're both shy people, but you do really like each other and would do anything for the other/feel so safe and complete.

Michelle is our best friend in the whole wide world and roommate. She's going to appear in the other AU's and is based on 3 of the closest women in the world to me. Everyone needs a Michelle. Our Lemon car is inspired by a comedy show and my own car. There is a running gag that Kats gets heart pain from loving you but it's a good thing. You and Kat have picked up each others speaking patterns without noticing.

The heart on the glass comes from this chapter.

I honestly feel like I could've done better on this fic but I think that's the nit-picky author part of my brain.

My master list is a work in progress but there's plenty more fic's and other characters if you request them. Ao3 is sexy too. (Full story can be found there and I will be updating soon.)

You can also tip me a coffee if you want.

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

Stay tuned for the rest!! If you wanna be tagged, lemme know.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!! <33

-Angie (✿^‿^)

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chrissturnsfav · 3 hours ago

Note

what if star just passed out like she’d been working in the studio or over working herself and she comes over or just passes out in the studio and rappers!chris is there or find out idk i just randomly thought of it

⋆.˚✮ singer!reader overworks herself too far

it's late. way too late. you've been running on fumes for days now, locked in the studio, perfecting every last word, every last note.

you're hunched over your notebook, scribbling down lyrics so fast your wrist aches, your eyes heavy, but you don’t stop. you can't. the album drops in a week, and everything has to be perfect.

chris is kicked back on the couch across from you, blunt between his fingers, watching you through the haze of smoke. he's been talking, making jokes, trying to distract you, but you've barely looked up.

"kid," he exhales, shaking his head, "you gonna work yourself into the fuckin' ground. take a break, goddamn."

"just—one more line," you mumble, blinking hard, trying to focus.

he laughs, shaking his head as he speaks through a cloud of exhaled smoke. "yeah, aight. you said that two hours ago."

you ignore him, chewing your lip, tapping the pen against the page, the words blurring together. your head feels too heavy for your neck, your body too light, floating—

then everything just…stops. darkness. quiet.

you don't even realize you've passed out until you wake up to chris shaking your shoulder, voice low and urgent.

"yo, baby—nah, wake up, what the fuck?"

you blink, dazed, and realize you're not in your chair anymore. you're slumped against his chest, arms limp at your sides. he must've caught you before you hit the floor.

"what happened?" you mumble, voice thick, head spinning.

chris clicks his tongue, irritated but concerned. "you fuckin' passed out, that's what happened. scared the shit outta me."

you try to sit up, but he doesn’t let you, arms locked tight around you.

"nuh-uh, stay right here. matter fact—" he shifts, easily scooping you up, carrying you over to the couch like you weigh nothing.

"chris," you protest weakly, but your body betrays you, melting into him, exhaustion hitting you like a train.

he sighs, settling you in his lap, tucking your head under his chin. "see? you don’t even got the energy to fight me. you need to chill the fuck out, baby. you workin' way too hard."

"but—"

"nope." he cuts you off, blunt still hanging from his lips as he pulls a blanket over you. "ion wanna hear no 'but.' album's gonna be fire. you know it, i know it, the whole fuckin' world's gonna know it. but you ain't gonna enjoy none of it if you keep runnin' yourself into the ground like this."

you chew your lip, guilt creeping in, but chris feels it before you even say anything. he tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him.

"don’t start that overthinkin' shit. you my superstar, right?"

you nod, slow, a weary smile tugging at your lips.

"then act like it. superstars don’t pass the fuck out in the studio, kid."

you sigh, closing your eyes, finally letting yourself relax. his arms tighten around you, grounding you, keeping you close.

"gotchu, mama," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, voice softer now. "always gotchu."

thank you for reading!! <3

tags 🏷️: @sturnobsessedwh0re , @idrk2292 , @mattsbrat , @ribbonlovergirl , @matthewsroses , @mattsdemi , @emely9274 , @frankoceanfanpage , @ifwdominicfike , @marrykisskilled , @strnilolover , @cayleeuhithinknott , @sturns-mermaid , @sophand4n4 , @sturnsrecord , @purpledragon222 , @faiyaz555 , @jocelyncsblog , @freakiolos , @slut4chris888 , @chriss-slutt , @ilovedanielcaesar , @annsx03 , @snoopychris , @chrissweetheart , @slutformatt17 , @mattsturnii , @dominicfikeenthusiast , @mattsbratt333 , @ivysturnss , @tessasturns , @coquettechris , @courta13 , @sturniolo101 , @malsmind , @mattsleftball , @softhyunieeee

@chrissturnsfav ™

#chrissturnsfav ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི #ᰔᩚ rapper!chris x singer!reader prompt #ᰔᩚ rapper!chris x singer!reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets x reader #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo angst #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #sturniolo triplets x you

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bvrnesher · 3 days ago

Text

𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

cw: make out ! Everything is very sweet, actually.

ㅤ୨ৎㅤ🌙ㅤ˳ 𝒋𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒆 ¡ 𝒇𝒆𝒎. 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

﹙𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆! ﹚ꪆ

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 𝟏𝟐𝟏𝟓 | 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌 ¡ 𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝑺𝒂𝒏 𝑽𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏 ¡ 𝒎𝒅𝒏𝒊

𝗝𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗡 𝗚𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗘 𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗗 𝗧𝗢 pressure. He’d led battles, commanded legions, and nearly died more times than he cared to count. But nothing—nothing—compared to the sheer panic of trying to make your Valentine’s Day perfect.

Which was stupid. You’d had way too many Valentine’s Days together.

And Jason knew it was stupid. You’d been living together for two years now. He knew exactly how you took your coffee, that you always stole the blankets in your sleep, the way your face definitely wasn’t subtle whenever he took off his shirt in the mornings.

And yet, here he was, stress-cleaning the kitchen counter for the fifth time, triple-checking his plans for the day.

Breakfast? Cooking was too risky in his current state, so he had gotten up early to pick it up from your favorite café. Flowers? Your favorites, fresh and perfectly arranged on the table. Gifts? Hidden in the closet, waiting for the perfect moment. Dinner reservation? Your go-to place, triple confirmed.

He took a deep breath. Everything was fine. He was fine.

"Dude," Jason muttered, gripping the back of a chair. "Get it together."

That’s when he heard your sleepy voice from the doorway, followed by a yawn.

"Who are you talking to?" you asked, rubbing your eyes as you walked into the kitchen.

He spun around so fast he nearly tripped.

"No one," he blurted, trying—and failing—to look casual.

His heart did a weird little flip when he saw you standing there in nothing but one of his old shirts—way too big on you, by the way—and a pair of white underwear. Sleepy eyes, messy hair, looking way too good for someone who had just woken up.

You gave him a once-over.

"You’re stressed," you stated. Not a question.

"What? Me? No," Jason denied immediately, crossing his arms. Then uncrossing them. Clearing his throat. Rubbing the back of his neck.

Your gaze flicked to the table, the coffee cup trembling slightly in his hands, the way his jaw was clenched like he was bracing for a fight. You stepped closer, resting your hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat going way too fast.

"Jase." You looked up at him, biting back a smile. "You do know we’ve been together for years, right?"

"Yeah."

"You don’t have to impress me."

"…I know."

A pause. Then—

"What if I want to?"

"Wait—do I smell coffee?" you interrupted, wrapping your arms around his waist, burying your face in the soft wool of his sweater.

He let out a breath, relaxing slightly as he wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"I got you breakfast," he murmured, his voice low and content.

"Did you burn the first one?" you teased, grinning against his chest.

He huffed, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.

"Har har," he said, rolling his eyes fondly. "Hilarious."

You laughed, and his chest felt a little lighter.

"Happy Valentine’s Day, love," he said softly.

You smiled, letting go of his waist only to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a slow, lingering kiss.

Jason melted into it instantly, his hands finding your waist, pulling you closer in a way that was far too natural by now.

The kiss was slow, warm, easy.

Like all of Jason’s kisses.

Jason’s heart sped up, but his shoulders relaxed. Having you this close in the morning, just standing there in the kitchen with the city noise outside... Gods, saying Jason loved you didn’t even come close to covering it.

His hands slid to your waist, pulling you even closer, needing the warmth of your presence.

You gently pulled back, just enough to speak. "You don’t have to impress me, seriously." You said, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "I already am."

Jason chuckled softly, the sound deep and warm in his chest. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, still feeling the weight of the day ahead. "I want it to be perfect, though. It’s you."

Your gaze softened, and without responding, you tugged him back to you, sealing your lips in a slow, gentle kiss, pulling him closer.

His hand tangled in your hair, massaging your scalp in that soft, slow way you loved. Jason bit your lower lip gently, pulling a quiet gasp from you.

He wasted no time, slipping his tongue into the warmth of your mouth, deepening the kiss, guiding you back until your lower back hit the counter. He pressed his free hand to the edge of the counter to keep you steady, holding you against him.

The kiss turned more urgent, your hands sliding over his chest, shoulders, and arms, pulling him tighter to you, not letting him go. A low groan escaped him when your hand slipped under his sweater, your fingers sending shivers down his spine.

His stomach tightened under your delicate touch, the feeling leaving behind a heat that made him feel like he was burning.

Both of Jason’s hands found the hem of your—his—shirt, sliding under it to feel the soft skin of your waist. His thumbs made slow, lazy circles.

"Can’t help it," he murmured softly against your lips, "you’re just... too distracting."

You smiled, a quiet laugh slipping from your lips. "Now I really want you to impress me..." You whispered, biting his lower lip and tugging lightly.

Shit.

Jason felt the heat building in all the wrong places for this time of morning, the bulge under his sweatpants starting to form just from that small action. His chest tightened at your teasing, at the way you touched him, at the way your body was pressed against his with him pinning you to the counter.

"Maybe I do," he murmured, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, searching for something, trying to find any sign that you were just messing with him.

But there was no doubt, not even a hint that you were just teasing him.

Without another word, he kissed you again, one of his hands left your shirt to slide further up, finding the curve of one of your breasts. He cupped it in his hand, squeezing and massaging with a gentleness that was only worthy of Jason Fucking Gentleman Grace.

You gasped under his touch, your nipples hardening against the coolness of his hands.

"Jase..." you managed to say his nickname, only to feel his lips leave yours in search of more skin to worship.

"So soft..." He murmured softly, lowering his lips to your jaw line, trailing down your neck with open-mouthed kisses. Then, finally finding that spot that always shorted you out.

He took your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, giving it a gentle pinch that elicited a moan that made Jason's skin crawl. He didn't even bother trying to hide his own desire.

Jason felt his cock growing uncomfortably hard under his sweatpants. Reaching down, his hand found the waistband of your panties, teasingly tugging them down.

Jason stopped just to grab your hips, trying to keep you in place as he thrusted his hips into yours, looking for some short of friction that you might could provide.

Your breath hitched, feeling him press his boner against you while he pressed soft kisses against your skin.

"Happy Valentine's Day to you, too." You whispered.

"I love you," He murmured against your neck, biting softly.

Jason nervouses were forgotten a long while ago. You were perfect in his arms, and that's all that mattered for him right now.

Plus, he wasn't going to think about anything other than making love to you for the next couple hours, that's for sure.

#NOTE: Babes, This is the first time I've written something like this, and it's not even good TT. Plus, I just wrote it and it's 3am, I'm sleepy. I swear I'll write something better when my eyes aren't closing!

𝒙𝒐𝒙𝒐, 𝒔.

#bvrnesher #‧₊˚✧ s. posting !#pjo fandom #jason grace x y/n #jason grace #jason grace smut #jason grace x reader #riordanverse #riordanverse x reader #pjo x reader #pjo hoo toa #percy jackon and the olympians

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makeyoumine69 · 2 days ago

Note

valentines with patrick pls but it ends with patrick being miserable 🙏

Perfect

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Can love truly conquer inner demons, or does walking away become the bravest Valentine’s gift of all?

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Implied smut and a lot of angst.

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: [MASTERLIST]; [MY IMAGINES AND SHORT REQUESTS].

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐂: My Darkest Days—Perfect💌

𝐀/𝐍: I want to wish everyone a happy Valentine's Day! Never stop believing in love! And thank you so much for this request because it fits my current mood a lot!💔

The more Patrick got to know you, the more he realized how pure-hearted and kind you were, literally perfect. And at some point he couldn't stand it anymore, because how could you be so perfect? Even the way you laughed was perfect and your smile was as bright as a summer day in New York. The very day the two of you met. And somehow, Bateman knew from the beginning that your presence in his life would change everything, including himself, and he was not ready or happy for that.

But the moment you opened the window in the dark room, you couldn't blame the light coming in and eliminating everything around you, because that's how things work in our world. Simple physical laws against which we are all helpless. And every single second that Patrick was thinking about why he couldn't hurt you physically or mentally, he was suffering from the stabbing pain in his chest, as if his heart was locked in the chains of molten iron.

The man was trying to find an answer that simply didn't exist.

Finally, in desperation, Bateman even considered asking you this question—what was so special about you? Besides the fact that you were just perfect for him? And maybe for the world? But every time he tried to question you, the two of you ended up lost in the fire of passion that you couldn't control, not that you really wanted to control it. Those raw, vivid emotions soon became his most addictive drug because he could finally feel himself alive. The intimacy he despised became a need he couldn't live without, and he was so damn grateful to you that you didn't see it as his weakness. You were just being yourself, accepting him as he was.

But when the woman loved a man and the man loved a woman, but in his twisted way, it couldn't be easy, even though Patrick really tried to make it work. He just knew that one day his own rage would take over and he'd kill you—never in his life did he feel so disgusted than when he imagined your blood on his hands. And it was weird as hell.

"...and we are going to have a little kitten," you murmured, sitting next to Patrick on the warm carpet by the fireplace. "Oh God, I never asked if you even like cats..."

Trapped in his thoughts, Patrick didn't seem to notice your small talk, but when you put your head on his shoulder, he flinched a little, but didn't push you away. "I, uh, never really thought about it," he replied, looking at you. "Tell me something, darling. Are you happy here?"

With a broad smile, you giggled and hugged his arm. "Of course I am happy! Spending Valentine's Day not anywhere but in Aspen seems like a dream!"

"Dream?"

"Yes, very much like a dream," you added, glancing back at him with your doe eyes, where the fire sparks were glimmering. "I know it doesn't seem like much to you. But to me it's like a winter fairytale come true."

Bateman hummed and instinctively pecked your forehead, then your temple, until his warm lips found yours; you didn't hesitate and kissed him back, hugging his strong neck and brushing his slicked-back hair a little. There was something desperate about the way the man held you in his embrace, but you overlooked it, unable to think of anything but the heat radiating from his sturdy body.

"I must say, you always have the best way with words," he whispered into your neck before nipping at your sensitive skin, sending little shivers through your slightly trembling form. "And I like it."

You couldn't stop yourself from laughing when Patrick rubbed his nose against your neck and unintentionally tickled you. "Uh, Patrick!" You snickered and turned away from him. "Too many compliments from you today. Did something happen?"

Silence fell over the spacious room, only the faint ticking of the fireplace could be heard for a while before Bateman pulled you onto his lap and pressed you against his chest so you could hear his steady heartbeat—the soft material of his sweater felt so comforting you thought you were going to burst into tears from how much you loved this man.

"No, nothing happened," he finally replied, stroking the top of your head. "Just a little nervous about the main surprise I prepared for you."

"Huh?"

"After we're done with our planned events, I'd like to present it to you," Bateman cupped your face, his lips curled into that classic boy-next-door smile that always had the most charming effect on you. "So, have you ever been to the hot springs?"

Before heading out to the best springs in Colorado, not far from Aspen, the two of you made snowmen and played snowball before you decided to compete with Patrick in strength, trying to knock him down only to end up being pushed into the big pile of snow. After laughing for a while, Bateman noticed your slightly offended look, and the next thing you knew, the man turned around and fell on his back next to you, leaving you both giggling at how silly you both looked. But you didn't care because you were lying together in the snow, holding hands and looking up at the sky, which was so clean and white, as if it was covered with snow as well.

Was this even real?

Later, in Glenwood Springs, you found out that there were almost only two of you, and that privacy helped a lot when you were swimming naked in the hot springs, exhaling the white steam because the temperature around you was quite low.

Skin against skin, his eager lips on yours, drowning out all the little moans that tried to escape your trembling throat as he rubbed your swollen folds while you were both still submerged in the water. You wanted to claw at his skin, leaning on his shoulders and throwing your head back to give him more space as he kissed you here and there.

Patrick, mmhm, please, don’t stop.

The man longed to etch those words into his mind, along with the intoxicating sensation of owning you in every possible way. And if your soul could be touched, he could swear he would touch it with a tenderness he had never known before. Because finding someone with a pure soul was something so rare these days. Something almost surreal. Something Bateman secretly thirsted for, but realized too late.

When you came back to Aspen to the luxurious winter house he rented, you spent a dear hour reading The Great Gatsby and even though Patrick kept commenting on how stupid and pathetic it was of Gatsby to try to impress an arrogant bitch like Daisy, you both enjoyed the evening anyway because you could listen to him read the passages forever—his voice was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. Still, you never really confessed it to him, thinking he would call you silly and... too romantic? Too emotional?

Emotions, emotions, emotions.

Having sex with someone doesn't mean you have feelings for them. Loving someone doesn't always mean it will last forever. Only losing someone feels like something permanent. And Patrick couldn't let that happen.

When you were busy cooking something for dinner, Bateman literally came out of nowhere, hugged you from behind, and inhaled your scent with his eyes closed. Every little detail of you mattered, every little thing—the way you exhaled in surprise, almost jumping up, and the way you were embarrassed when he slipped his hands under your top to tease your nipples, making them hard and sensitive. And as the pot slowly simmered on the small fire, you both worshipped each other, giving everything you had, until Patrick reached his limit and lifted you up only to place you on the kitchen counter, wiping everything from its surface. Almost immediately, without wasting a second, the man began to undo your pants, kneading your breasts and leaving wet trails of kisses along your belly, and when he reached your mound, he nuzzled against it and you could swear you saw his eyes shimmer, but not from fire or anything.

Were those tears?

…

You kept asking yourself the same question a month later.

How many times did you read the notebook he gave you as his "main suprise" for Valentine's Day? The gift that unintentionally broke your heart and made you doubt if you could ever fall in love again. Holding a small notebook in your hands, you opened it and traced a finger along his somewhat chaotic handwriting, then the little doodles he made, until you turned several pages and stopped on the last one, where a beautiful doodle of your little figure was drawn. And that short phrase written in the top right corner that said 'I love you', that always made you cry, but after reading it so many times now, all you felt was a void. As if everything that made you feel alive had been erased from you in the most brutal way.

Why did he leave you like this? Why couldn't he just tell you that he had met someone else? Probably someone more beautiful by today's standards. Someone he would be proud to show off in public. Why did he choose to use the fear of hurting you as an excuse? Why?

You would never believe it. It was just impossible to believe that the man who treated you like his treasure could leave you because he was afraid of hurting you, because he thought you would find someone "better", because he thought he didn't deserve you at all. Covering your face in your hands, you closed your eyes and cried, the notebook falling to your feet. But the words written inside had already left deep scars on your mind.

"...all those days when I thought about losing you, I realized that I was so selfish, thinking only of myself and never of you. So now I'm finally thinking about you, my love. Please don't cry, I hate to see you cry. And please forgive me for everything I've done. There won't be a single day that I don't think about the time we spent together. I just want you to be happy and ALIVE. With me...that wouldn't be possible. I love you...I'm sorry. I really am."

The rain fell in a steady rhythm, tapping against the windowpane like a melancholy melody. Patrick stood in the shadows, just beyond the glow of the streetlamp, his coat damp and clinging to his shoulders. From here he could see you through the frosted glass of the café, sitting alone at a corner table, a book in your hands. You looked the same, but different.

Concentrating on reading, you laughed at something in the book, and the sound carried through the glass, piercing his chest like a blade. Bateman wanted to go inside, to sit across from you and tell you everything—how he had never stopped loving you, how he had watched you from afar, how he had spent every day since he left you trying to become someone worthy of you. But he didn't move. He couldn't.

Because he knew that even now, after all this time, he still wasn't enough.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community to know when I update!💞

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines #slasher fanfic

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chelseaknoo · 1 day ago

Text

Valentine’s Day with Eminem

Eminem x Reader

Caution: semi-sexual content and Marshall’s baby fever <3

Note:sorry it’s a day late! And any era of Eminem you want!

For the past two years, you and Marshall had been together, and despite his usual tough-guy exterior, you knew how much he loved you. He showed it in his own way—whether it was pulling you closer in his sleep, always making sure you were safe, or spoiling you just because he felt like it.

With Valentine’s Day right around the corner, you wanted to do something special for him. Marshall wasn’t the type to get overly sentimental about holidays, but you knew he’d appreciate the thought, even if he acted like it wasn’t a big deal.

After weeks of planning, you finally settled on the perfect gifts—a luxury watch, custom jewelry designed specifically for him, and, of course, a fresh pair of sneakers. You knew he had more shoes than he could ever wear, but the man had a weakness for them, and you loved seeing his face light up when he got a new pair.

The packages sat neatly wrapped in your closet, hidden from sight. You were excited to give them to him, but Valentine’s Day wasn’t here just yet.

One evening, as you sat on the couch scrolling through your phone, Marshall strolled into the living room, his brow slightly furrowed as he looked at you suspiciously.

“You been actin’ sneaky as fuck lately,” he muttered, flopping down next to you. “What the hell you up to?”

You smirked, locking your phone. “What makes you think I’m up to something?”

He narrowed his eyes. “’Cause I know you. Every time you try to hide shit from me, you start actin’ all innocent like that. What is it? You plannin’ some kinda bullshit prank?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, Marshall. Not everything I do is about messing with you.”

“Mm-hmm,” he grumbled, still unconvinced. “I swear, if you put hot sauce in my coffee again, I’m dumpin’ your ass.”

You rolled your eyes. “That was one time, and you deserved it.”

“The fuck I do?” he shot back. “I ain’t do nothin’ to you!”

“You called me a brat all day just because I didn’t wanna watch Scarface for the hundredth time.”

Marshall scoffed. “First off, Scarface is a goddamn classic. Second, you are a brat, and third—” He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing again. “Wait, why are we talkin’ about that? Don’t change the subject. What are you hiding?”

You smirked, leaning in closer to him. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t like that.”

“You’ll live,” you teased, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before standing up.

He grabbed your wrist, pulling you back onto his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist. “Nah, see, now I really wanna know,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck.

You laughed, pushing at his chest. “You’re not gonna distract me.”

“The fuck I ain’t,” he muttered, nipping at your skin lightly.

You rolled your eyes again but couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered. He really did have a way of making you melt, but you weren’t about to give in that easily.

“Marshall,” you warned playfully.

He sighed dramatically, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Fine. Keep your little secrets. But if I find out you got me some corny-ass matching couple shit, I’m tellin’ you right now, I ain’t wearin’ it.”

You bit your lip to hold back a smile. “Not even if it’s really cool?”

“Not even if Jesus himself came down and told me to put that shit on.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

He groaned, tightening his arms around you. “Fuckin’ hate waiting.”

“Too bad,” you teased, kissing his cheek again before slipping out of his grasp.

Valentine’s Day was coming soon, but for now, you’d let him suffer in suspense.

You stirred awake to the faint smell of coffee and something sweet—pancakes, maybe? Your brows furrowed as you turned onto your side, reaching out, only to realize the other side of the bed was empty. That was unusual. Normally, Marshall stayed in bed as long as he could, clinging to you like a damn koala.

You rubbed your eyes and sat up slowly, your hair a mess and your body still heavy with sleep. Just as you were about to call out for him, the bedroom door pushed open, and there he was—your grumpy, foul-mouthed boyfriend, holding a tray of food in one hand and a massive bouquet of deep red roses in the other.

"Happy fuckin’ Valentine’s Day, baby," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips as he made his way over.

You blinked, still half-asleep. "Marshall…?"

"What?" He quirked a brow, setting the tray down on your lap before plopping onto the bed next to you. "Look at that, I ain't completely useless. I ain't burn the fuckin’ kitchen down or nothin’."

A slow, sleepy smile spread across your lips as you looked down at the tray. There was a plate stacked with pancakes—heart-shaped, even—alongside crispy bacon, eggs, and a cup of coffee, just how you liked it.

"You… made this?" you asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Well, no shit. You see anybody else in this house?" he scoffed. "I ain't about to let some random motherfucker come in here and cook for my girl."

You chuckled, picking up a piece of bacon. "I mean, I wouldn’t put it past you to have Paul do it."

Marshall snorted. "The fuck would I look like, callin’ Paul at six in the morning talkin’ ‘bout, ‘Yo, come make my girl some breakfast’?"

You laughed, shaking your head before glancing at the roses. "And these?"

"These are also for my girl," he said, handing you the bouquet. "Real as hell, just like you."

Your heart swelled, and you traced your fingers over the soft petals, inhaling the fresh scent. He wasn’t the biggest romantic, but when he did things like this, it meant even more.

"You really went all out," you murmured, looking up at him.

He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, well… you deserve it."

Your chest tightened at his words, and you set the roses down beside you before leaning over to kiss him. He cupped the back of your head, deepening it, his other hand slipping under the covers to squeeze your thigh.

"Mmm," you hummed against his lips before pulling back slightly. "This is really sweet, Marshall."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, trying to pull you back in. "Eat your damn food before it gets cold."

You smirked. "You just don’t wanna admit you’re a softie."

"The fuck I do," he grumbled.

"Making me breakfast, getting me flowers…" You tilted your head. "You gonna write me a poem next?"

He deadpanned. "You want me to?"

You burst out laughing. "No, no, I’d rather keep my ears intact."

He narrowed his eyes. "You a real fuckin’ comedian, huh?"

You winked, picking up your fork. "Only for you, babe."

He shook his head, muttering under his breath as he leaned back against the headboard, watching you eat.

After finishing your breakfast, you leaned back against the headboard, completely satisfied. “Damn, Marshall,” you said, dabbing your lips with a napkin. “That was actually really good.”

He smirked. “The fuck you mean ‘actually’? Like you expected me to fuck it up?”

You giggled, stretching before glancing over at him. “You said you wanted to take me out, right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, running a hand through his short blonde hair. “Figured we could do somethin’ nice since it’s Valentine’s Day ‘n’ all.”

You grinned. “Aww, look at you being all romantic.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t push it.”

Laughing, you hopped out of bed and stretched again. “Alright, well, I need to get ready.”

Marshall gave you a look. “How long we talkin’? ‘Cause if it’s some two-hour bullshit—”

Before he could finish, you cut him off by playfully shoving him toward the bedroom door. “Go do something productive while I get dressed.”

“I was doin’ somethin’ productive—sittin’ here lookin’ at my beautiful ass girl,” he shot back, smirking.

You shook your head, laughing as you finally managed to push him out and shut the door. Now it was time to get ready.

Thirty Minutes Later

“Babe!”

You heard Marshall’s irritated voice from the other side of the door.

“Yo, what the fuck is takin’ so long? We goin’ out today or next Valentine’s Day?”

You smiled to yourself, carefully applying the last touch of gloss to your lips. “Be patient!”

“Patient? I been sittin’ here for thirty fuckin’ minutes! You better be comin’ out lookin’ like a goddamn supermodel or some shit.”

You smirked at your reflection. Oh, he was definitely going to eat his words.

Finally satisfied, you strutted over to the door and swung it open, stepping out dramatically.

Marshall, who had been leaning against the wall, looking down at his phone, glanced up—and instantly froze.

His blue eyes widened as they slowly traveled from your head to your toes, taking in every damn detail. You were wearing a form-fitting, deep red mini dress that hugged every curve just right. The fabric clung to your body like a second skin, accentuating your waist and hips. The plunging neckline showed off your cleavage, and the thin straps left your shoulders completely bare. The dress stopped mid-thigh, revealing your smooth legs, paired with sleek black stilettos that made them look even longer.

Your makeup was flawless—dark, sultry eyeshadow, long lashes, and your lips painted a soft glossy red to match the dress. Your hair cascaded in perfect waves, framing your face effortlessly.

You smirked. “Well? Supermodel enough for you?”

Marshall blinked, his mouth opening slightly before shutting again. He looked you up and down one more time, then dragged a hand down his face.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

You giggled, stepping closer. “Is that a good ‘Jesus fuckin’ Christ’ or a bad one?”

He scoffed. “Oh, it’s good, alright. Good enough that now I don’t even wanna go nowhere.” His hands found your hips, pulling you in. “Matter fact, how ‘bout we stay our asses right here?”

You rolled your eyes, pushing at his chest. “Nope, you said we’re going out. Let’s go.”

He groaned, but reluctantly let go, stepping back. “You doin’ this shit on purpose,” he muttered, shaking his head as he grabbed his keys.

You smirked, picking up your clutch. “Maybe.”

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath as you both walked to the car.

Once outside, Marshall opened the passenger door for you, but just as you were about to get in, he grabbed your wrist.

“Hold the fuck up.”

You turned to him, confused. “What?”

His gaze darkened. “This dress—where the fuck is the rest of it?”

You burst out laughing. “Marshall—”

“Nah, I’m serious. This shit barely covers anything,” he grumbled, eyeing the way the fabric stretched over your curves.

“You’re being dramatic,” you teased, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Dramatic?” he scoffed. “Nah, ‘cause I already know muthafuckers gonna be lookin’ at you, and then I’ma have to beat somebody’s ass.”

You giggled, sliding into the seat. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“I ain’t jealous,” he muttered, slamming the door before walking around to the driver’s side.

When he got in, he cut you a side glance, still frowning.

You smirked. “If it makes you feel better, I only care about your eyes on me.”

Marshall grunted as he started the car. “Damn right you do.”

You shook your head, still smiling. The night hadn’t even started yet, and it was already entertaining.

After getting into the car, Marshall still hadn't gotten over the dress you were wearing. He kept throwing glances your way, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel as he drove.

“I swear to God, if one muthafucker even thinks about staring at you too long, I’m knockin’ his ass out.”

You laughed, adjusting your seatbelt. “Marshall, relax. I dress like this for you.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, well, I don’t like sharin’.”

You smirked, reaching over to rest your hand on his thigh. “Then maybe you should take me shopping and pick out what you like.”

Marshall gave you a look, raising an eyebrow. “Shopping?”

You nodded innocently. “Mhm. You said it’s our day, right?”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Aight, fine. But if you think I ain’t keepin’ an eye on what the fuck you’re buyin’—”

You grinned, cutting him off. “Let’s go before you change your mind.”

At the Mall

Marshall should’ve known this was a bad idea.

Not because he didn’t want to spoil you—he did. Hell, he’d give you the whole damn world if he could. But damn, the way you were tossing clothes into the shopping bags like money wasn’t a real thing? Yeah, that was starting to fuck with his head.

“Yo,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he eyed the price tag on one of the bags. “You tryna make me go broke?”

You giggled, slipping your arm around his. “Marshall, you have millions.”

“And at this rate, I’ma have zero.” He sighed dramatically, watching as you picked up another outfit. “What even is this? That shit ain't even enough fabric to be called clothes.”

You held up the tiny lace lingerie set with a smirk. “Oh, this? It’s for later.”

Marshall’s jaw clenched, and he snatched it out of your hands, tossing it over his arm before grabbing your wrist and pulling you close. “You are wearin’ this for me, right?”

You batted your lashes. “Who else?”

His blue eyes darkened slightly before he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You know what? Fuck it. Get whatever the fuck you want. Just remember, you wear this little shit outside? We fightin’.”

You laughed, kissing his cheek. “Noted.”

By the time you were done, Marshall was carrying way too many bags, grumbling under his breath the whole time.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” he muttered as you both walked toward the exit. “Why you need this much shit?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” you reminded him, smiling. “You said you wanted to spoil me.”

“Yeah, but damn.” He shifted the bags in his arms. “Next time, I’m takin’ you to Target.”

Lunch Date

After dropping the bags off in the car, you and Marshall headed to a nice little restaurant nearby.

As soon as you both sat down, Marshall leaned back in his seat, stretching. “Aight, now this part I don’t mind. Food? I can get behind that shit.”

You smiled, flipping through the menu. “Oh, so you don’t mind spending money on food but clothes are a problem?”

“Damn right,” he muttered. “Food don’t make me question my fuckin’ bank account.”

You giggled, shaking your head before deciding on what you wanted. When the waitress came over, Marshall ordered for both of you, making sure you got exactly what you liked.

Once the food arrived, you could tell Marshall was in his happy place. His entire mood shifted the second he took that first bite.

“God damn,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “This shit good as fuck.”

You laughed, watching him practically melt into his seat. “You act like you’ve never had a meal before.”

He shrugged, taking another bite. “Shit, I ain’t sayin’ that. Just sayin’, whoever made this needs a raise.”

Smirking, you picked up your fork and held a piece of food out to him. “Here, try this.”

Marshall raised an eyebrow. “You tryna feed me now?”

“Come on, don’t be shy,” you teased, wiggling the fork in front of him.

He rolled his eyes but leaned in, taking the bite. He chewed for a moment before nodding. “Aight, I see you. That shit good too.”

Smiling, you wiped a little sauce from the corner of his lip with your thumb. “You got something—”

Before you could pull your hand away, Marshall smirked and suddenly took your thumb into his mouth, sucking it clean.

Your eyes widened slightly, heat rushing to your face. “Marshall!”

He chuckled, letting go. “What? You wiped it off. I just finished the job.”

Shaking your head, you picked up a fry and held it up. “Here, your turn.”

Marshall smirked, but instead of taking it with his hands, he leaned forward and took it straight from your fingers with his mouth.

“You are so dramatic,” you muttered, laughing.

He chewed and winked. “You love that shit.”

After finishing your meals, you both sat back, completely full and content. Marshall took a sip of his drink before glancing at you.

“Aight, what’s next?”

You smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He narrowed his eyes. “See, now I’m worried.”

You giggled, leaning over the table to kiss him. “Relax, babe. The day’s not over yet.”

Marshall sighed, running a hand down his face before mumbling, “I got a bad fuckin’ feelin’ ‘bout this.”

You just smiled. Oh, if only he knew.

The night had finally arrived, and Marshall had been quiet for most of the drive, the soft hum of the car's engine filling the spaces between you two. The city lights flickered outside as you both made your way toward your dinner destination, but you had something to share before it all went down.

"Hey," you said, breaking the silence and shifting slightly in your seat to grab the bag you had stashed beside you.

Marshall glanced over at you, brow furrowed. "What?"

You smirked, reaching into the bag and pulling out the small box with the watch you’d bought for him. "I got you something. For Valentine's Day."

He raised an eyebrow, looking over at you in surprise. "You didn’t need to get me shit," he grumbled, but his tone softened as his curiosity grew. "You know I ain't about all that gift shit."

You shrugged, holding the box out to him. "Yeah, well, I wanted to. So just take it."

Marshall hesitated for a moment before taking the box from your hand, his eyes lingering on you as he carefully opened it. Inside, a sleek, expensive watch glimmered under the interior lights of the car.

"Yo... what the fuck?" he muttered, his eyes going wide as he lifted the watch. "This... this shit’s expensive as hell, babe."

You just smiled. "You deserve it. You’ve been working your ass off."

Marshall laughed, shaking his head. "Damn. I don't even know what to say." He let out a low whistle, admiring the watch before slipping it on his wrist. "You're gonna make me feel guilty for not getting you something that costs this much."

You waved him off. "You already spoil me, Marshall. It’s not about the price."

Before he could respond, you reached into the bag again, pulling out more boxes. "And there's more."

He turned his head toward you, an eyebrow cocked in suspicion. "You serious? You get me more shit?"

You chuckled softly, handing it over. "You’ll see."

He opened it slowly, his expression changing from confusion to shock as he revealed the custom chain—his initials carved into the thick gold links, designed with care and made specifically for him. Then the expensive sneakers, which also blew his mind.

"Goddamn..." he whispered, clearly impressed. "This is... this is fuckin' next level."

You grinned. "I figured you’d like it."

"Like it? Babe, I fuckin’ love it." His voice softened, and his gaze turned to you, his usual tough demeanor melting away. "You didn’t have to do all this, though."

You shrugged, feeling a little bashful at the sincerity in his eyes. "I wanted to."

Marshall smiled, shaking his head. "You're something else, you know that? Thank you." He took a deep breath, looking down at the watch and chain once more. "I feel like a damn millionaire now."

You laughed. "You *are* a damn millionaire."

"Yeah, but this... this is a different kind of flex," he said, the grin on his face growing wider. "I’m not tryna show off, but damn, I look good."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile. "You always look good."

He shot you a playful wink before pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant. "Alright, now it’s my turn to take care of you."

You glanced around at the fancy cars parked in front of the restaurant, feeling the anticipation building up. "Where are we going?"

Marshall parked the car, turning off the engine. "It’s a surprise."

You raised an eyebrow, but before you could say anything else, he was already getting out of the car and opening your door. "Come on, let’s go."

You took his hand as he led you toward the entrance of the restaurant, the warmth of the night air brushing against your skin. The moment you stepped inside, you were hit with the unmistakable scent of luxury—wood paneling, rich leather seats, and the soft clinking of silverware.

The hostess greeted you both, giving you a nod as she checked the reservation list. "Mr. Mathers, your table is ready."

Marshall smirked, glancing over at you. "I told you I got this."

As you followed her to your table, you couldn’t help but notice the view—this restaurant had a balcony seating area that overlooked the entire city. The lights below looked like a sea of stars, and the atmosphere was quiet, intimate.

The hostess pulled out the chair for you, and you sat down, still in awe of the beautiful setting. Marshall slid into the seat next to you, his eyes scanning the area as he looked satisfied with himself.

"Damn," you whispered, taking in the view. "You really went all out, huh?"

"Only for you," he said, his voice low and genuine. "I told you, I’m makin’ tonight special. You deserve it."

You reached across the table, taking his hand in yours. "I don’t need fancy stuff, Marshall. I just need you."

He squeezed your hand, his thumb running over your skin as he looked at you with a soft smile. "Yeah, well, I want to give you more than that. I want you to know you’re the best thing I got."

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face. "You’re not so bad yourself, Slim."

He chuckled at the nickname, leaning back in his chair. "Guess I got a soft spot for you, huh?"

"Guess so," you teased, leaning forward as you eyed the menu. "So what are we ordering?"

Marshall scanned the options, but you could tell he was still lost in thought. He stared at you for a moment, his gaze lingering before he looked away. "I’ll let you pick. You know what you like."

You raised an eyebrow, grinning. "Are you serious? You’re not even gonna help?"

He leaned in, his voice lowering to something more playful. "Hell no. It’s your night. I’m just here to enjoy the view."

You couldn't resist. There was something so satisfying about pushing Marshall’s buttons, especially when he was already feeling the weight of the night’s lavish surprises. The waiter stood at your table, waiting patiently for your order. Marshall was leaning back in his chair, trying to look casual, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. You decided it was time to have some fun.

"Alright," you said, flipping through the menu one last time. "I’ll have the lobster bisque as a starter. And, uh, the Wagyu beef, medium-rare, with a side of truffle fries."

Marshall's eyes widened as he leaned forward, clearly about to say something.

"Also, throw in the foie gras. Gotta go all out, right?" You grinned, knowing full well he’d start to get worked up.

Marshall’s mouth hung open for a second before he snapped it shut, glancing at you with a mix of disbelief and amusement. "You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me," he muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing. "I’m tryna treat you right, and you’re gonna hit me with that shit?"

The waiter, trying his best to be polite, wrote down your order and nodded before walking off to place it in the kitchen. Marshall turned his attention back to you, looking like he was about to burst.

"You really gonna make me pay for all this?" he asked, an amused yet annoyed look crossing his face. "I mean, I get it, it’s Valentine’s Day, but fuck. What’s next, a bottle of 200-dollar champagne?"

You chuckled, leaning back in your chair, enjoying the show. "Maybe," you teased, trying to hold in your laughter. "Why not? You only live once, right?"

Marshall shook his head in mock disbelief, his hands running over his face as if he couldn’t believe the audacity. "You are somethin’ else, you know that?" His tone was half exasperated, half impressed. "I swear, you’re gonna bankrupt me before this night’s over."

"Yeah, well, I like to live dangerously," you said, still grinning. "You knew what you were getting into when you started dating me, Marshall. Don’t act all surprised."

Marshall let out a deep sigh and rolled his eyes. "Fuckin' crazy," he muttered under his breath, though his lips were still curling up at the edges. "You really are a pain in my ass."

"Yeah, but you love it," you teased, giving him a wink.

"Love it? Hell, I’m just tryna keep my bank account from catchin' fire." He paused, glancing at you sideways with a smirk. "But... I guess you do look good enough to justify it. Maybe."

You laughed, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe?"

"Alright, alright," he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "You look damn good. I’ll give you that. But don’t push it, alright?"

The waiter returned soon after with a basket of freshly baked bread and a bottle of sparkling water, which you immediately ignored, still grinning. "The bread looks good, but I’m holding out for the good stuff," you said, leaning forward, clearly relishing the moment.

Marshall grabbed a piece of bread, tearing into it with a sigh, clearly trying to calm himself down. "I swear, if you order another thousand-dollar meal, I’m gonna fucking lose it."

"You’ll be fine," you said nonchalantly, enjoying every second of his misery. "It’s not like you’re gonna go broke over this."

"Don’t jinx me, babe," he shot back, shoving a piece of bread in his mouth. "You’re making me second guess every damn decision I’ve made tonight."

You leaned back in your chair, taking a sip of the water. "Relax, Marshall. You’re not gonna die from a fancy dinner."

"Well, if I do, I’m blaming you," he said, taking another bite of bread. "I told you I didn’t want any of this shit. But here I am, gettin’ sucked into your ridiculousness."

You smiled smugly. "You love it. Don’t lie."

He threw his hands up in exasperation, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Alright, fine. I love it. But damn, you’re gonna make me broke doing it."

"Hey, at least I’m worth it," you said, giving him a wink.

"Yeah, yeah," Marshall muttered, shaking his head as he reached for the wine list on the table. "You better be worth it, or else I’m putting my foot down."

You leaned over the table toward him, your smile widening. "You wouldn’t dare."

"Try me," he shot back with a smirk, raising an eyebrow. "You know I’ll do it."

As the conversation continued, the food started to arrive, each dish more expensive and extravagant than the last. The lobster bisque came out first, and it was rich, creamy, and perfect. Marshall hesitated for a second before taking a bite.

"Okay," he said begrudgingly. "This actually tastes pretty damn good."

"I know," you said, taking a spoonful yourself. "Told you."

The next dish, the Wagyu beef, arrived, perfectly seared and looking like it belonged in a five-star restaurant. You cut into it with ease, savoring the flavor. Marshall just shook his head, staring at the plate in disbelief.

"You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me," he muttered. "How the hell is this worth that much money?"

"Because it’s amazing," you replied with a grin. "It’s like the best steak you’ve ever had, but a hundred times better."

Marshall finally dug into his steak, pausing for a moment before looking up at you. "Alright, I’ll admit it. This is... fuckin’ delicious."

"Told you," you said smugly.

As the night went on, you both fed each other little bites of the various dishes, laughing and teasing each other along the way. You'd fork a piece of your steak and hold it out for him to eat, and he'd do the same with the truffle fries. You could see him start to relax, though he still had that playful edge to him.

After a while, Marshall leaned back in his chair, his arm casually resting on the back of yours. "You’re a handful, but damn if you don’t make this fun."

You rested your head against his shoulder, content. "And you love every second of it."

"Yeah, yeah. Don’t get cocky," he grumbled, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

As the night wore on, the atmosphere at the restaurant was starting to feel a little different. The balcony where you were sitting had a great view of the city, but with that view came a lot of attention. You were halfway through your meal when you noticed the first pair of eyes lingering on your boyfriend. Marshall didn’t seem to notice at first, but as you looked around, it became obvious that people were staring, some of them even sneaking pictures and videos on their phones.

You sighed and glanced over at Marshall, who was still focused on his food, though you could tell something was starting to bug him. He could sense it too. His brow furrowed, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath, his gaze darting to a couple sitting at a nearby table, their phone held up just a little too obviously in his direction. "Do these assholes have no shame?"

You tried to shrug it off, giving him a small smile to reassure him. "It’s fine, Marshall. Let them take their stupid pictures. We’re here to enjoy the night, right?"

But that didn't seem to calm him down. His jaw tightened as he leaned back in his chair, clearly irritated. "Yeah, I get it. But it’s like, can’t a guy just have a fucking dinner without being treated like a damn zoo animal?"

You could tell he was starting to get worked up, so you reached over and put a hand on his, squeezing it gently. "I know, but this is what comes with the territory, babe. You’re Eminem. People want a piece of you."

He shot you a look, his eyes narrowing with frustration. "I don’t give a shit about all that. I just wanna eat my fucking food in peace."

"Yeah, I get it," you said, trying to calm him down, "but they’re gonna do it anyway. Might as well not let it ruin the night."

Marshall leaned forward, shaking his head. "It’s just annoying, man. Every time we go out, it’s like I’m fuckin’ on display." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You’d think they’d give me a break, especially on a night like tonight."

"I’m fine with it," you said, leaning in close. "I’m used to it by now. It’s not a big deal. Let them stare. They’re not important."

Marshall shot a glance at you, his lips pressed into a thin line, clearly still frustrated. "I just don’t like it. Makes me feel like I’m some fucking animal in a cage." He turned back toward the table, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. "I want to be here with you, not with a bunch of fucking strangers watching me eat like I’m some kind of freak."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his over-the-top reaction, but you understood. Being in the public eye like he was, it was no surprise that sometimes he’d get sick of it. Still, you didn’t want it to ruin the vibe of the night.

"Okay, okay, I get it," you said, smiling as you reached for your glass of wine. "But how about this? Let’s just enjoy the meal. If they wanna stare, fine. But you and me, we’re gonna have a good time tonight. Just us."

Marshall looked at you for a moment, his eyes softening slightly. "Yeah, yeah. I guess you’re right. I’m just so fucking tired of it sometimes." He let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his face with both hands.

"I know, babe," you said, squeezing his hand again. "But let’s not let them ruin our night, okay? We deserve this."

He gave you a small, reluctant smile, his mood lightening just a bit. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Fuck 'em."

You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "Exactly. Fuck 'em. They’re not important."

Just as you said that, a couple at the next table discreetly took another picture, trying to be sneaky about it. You caught them and shot them a pointed look, but the couple quickly turned their attention back to their own conversation. Marshall noticed it too, and his lips twitched in amusement.

"See? Told you," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Fucking ridiculous."

"Don’t let them get to you," you said, smiling. "They’re just fans. They’ll get over it."

"Yeah, well, I hope they do before I fucking snap," he grumbled. But even though he was still irritated, you could tell his mood was lifting a little.

The waiter came back around to check on you, and Marshall put on a strained smile, though you could tell he was still agitated. "Yeah, we’re good," he said, though his voice lacked the usual enthusiasm. "Just, uh, you know, dealing with some bullshit over here."

The waiter smiled politely, unaware of the tension. "Of course, sir. Is there anything else I can get you?"

Marshall shook his head, his grip on his wine glass tightening. "Nah, we’re good for now. Thanks."

Once the waiter left, you turned to Marshall, trying to make him laugh. "You know, if you just smiled at them, they might stop."

Marshall shot you a side-eye, his lips curling in a sarcastic smirk. "You want me to smile at them? Like a fucking puppy?"

You burst out laughing. "Well, it might help."

"Yeah, well, fuck that," he grumbled. "I’m not here to entertain anyone. I’m here with you." He finally relaxed in his seat, his mood starting to shift as he took a deep breath. "Sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to be a dick. Just... sometimes I wish I could have a night out without all this shit."

"I get it, really," you said softly, reaching across the table to touch his hand. "But we’re here now. Just focus on me. I don’t care what they’re doing."

Marshall’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his earlier frustration fading. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Eminem leaned back in his chair, eyes sparkling mischievously as he glanced at you. You’d been enjoying the rest of your meal, laughing and joking around, but his demeanor had changed. You could tell something was coming.

"Alright, baby," he said with a sly grin, leaning toward you. "I’ve got one more surprise for you."

You raised an eyebrow, feeling the excitement bubble up. "Another one? What is it?"

He just shook his head, a little smirk playing on his lips. "Nope. You gotta trust me. Close your eyes."

You narrowed your eyes playfully at him, not quite believing him. "You’re not gonna make me do something weird, are you?"

He chuckled. "Nah, I wouldn’t do that. Just... close your eyes. Trust me."

Rolling your eyes but smiling, you obeyed, closing them and folding your arms on the table. Your heart started beating faster as the anticipation grew. "Alright, I’m trusting you," you said, your voice a little shaky with excitement.

"Good. Keep them closed."

You could hear the slight shuffle of movement, the sound of footsteps, and then a long silence. It was killing you not knowing what was happening. You felt a nervous laugh bubble up inside you. "Marshall, what the hell are you doing?"

But there was no response. Only the sound of people quietly whispering in the background. You felt a sudden shift in the air, a tension that you couldn’t quite place.

"Okay," Marshall's voice broke through, soft yet full of confidence. "Open them."

You hesitated for a second, unsure of what to expect. Slowly, you opened your eyes—and your breath hitched in your throat.

There he was, kneeling right in front of you. Marshall. Your Marshall. On one knee. And in his hand was the most beautiful ring you’d ever seen. Your heart immediately pounded in your chest, and your eyes stung with tears.

"Shit," you whispered, feeling the tears start to well up.

He laughed softly, the sound a mix of amusement and something deeper—something you couldn’t quite place yet.

"You know," he started, his voice growing serious, though there was still that familiar playful tone, "you’re the most annoying fucking bitch I’ve ever met."

You laughed through your tears, wiping your eyes quickly. "What?!"

"You are," he said with a smirk. "You drive me fucking crazy."

Your lips parted in shock, and you almost laughed, trying to push back the tears. "I—"

"But..." He paused for dramatic effect, his gaze never leaving yours. "You’re also the most smoking hot woman I’ve ever seen in my goddamn life. You’re beautiful as hell, and yeah, you’re an annoying bitch, but I don’t wanna spend another fucking day without you."

Your chest tightened as you fought back more tears. Marshall wasn’t exactly the type to spill his emotions, but when he did, it was always raw.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he continued. "You drain my fucking bank account, but I don’t care. I’d spend every fucking dime just to see that smile on your face." He paused, his hand shaking slightly as he held up the ring. "You’ve made my life better, and I’m ready to make you a fucking promise. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I’m asking you to be mine... forever."

Your eyes were brimming with tears now, and you struggled to find your voice. "Marshall, I—"

The crowd around you was now murmuring, a few people filming the whole moment with their phones, but you didn’t even care. It felt like it was just you and him, in that moment, the world fading into the background.

"You’ve been my fucking rock through all the bullshit, and I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you," he continued, his voice growing a little more intense. "I’m a fucking mess, but you’ve helped me put myself back together, piece by piece. So, yeah, I’m a stupid asshole sometimes. But I’ll be the best fucking man I can be... for you."

A single tear slipped down your cheek, and you wiped it away quickly, trying to steady your breath. "You’re not a mess," you whispered. "You’re everything."

Marshall gave you that trademark smirk of his. "So, will you marry me, you crazy ass woman?"

You paused, your heart racing, your mind spinning. Everything around you was fading—just you and him. You looked down at the beautiful ring in his hand, and then back up at him.

"Yes," you said, barely able to get the words out. "Yes, yes, yes!"

The room erupted into cheers as Marshall slid the ring onto your finger. You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t know what to say, so you just threw your arms around him, pulling him in for a kiss. It was rough, filled with passion and love, and you could feel the relief and joy flooding through him.

"I fucking love you," he muttered against your lips. "Don’t ever forget that."

You smiled through your tears, your heart full. "I won’t. I love you too."

Once you and Marshall got back to your place, the whole day felt like it was still buzzing through the air. The car ride home had been quiet, but it was a comfortable quiet, one that said more than words could. Marshall's hand had been on your thigh the entire drive, and every now and then, he’d glance at you with that knowing look that made your heart skip a beat.

You knew he was excited, not just about the day, but about the life he was promising you. And hell, you were excited too. Everything had been building up to this moment—this moment where he was finally yours, and you were his.

When you walked through the door, you didn’t even bother with small talk. You wanted to keep the night going in the best way possible. "I need to change," you said, already pulling your coat off and walking toward the bedroom. "Don’t follow me," you added with a teasing glance, knowing he’d be on your heels in an instant.

But this time, he listened.

You closed the bedroom door behind you and slid the lingerie you’d picked out at the mall earlier that day from the shopping bag. It was a black lace set, the kind that was sexy as hell but still had that mysterious, classy edge. You smirked to yourself as you undressed and slipped into it, checking yourself in the mirror. It was tight in all the right places, hugging your curves and accentuating your figure. You weren’t even going to lie, you felt fucking amazing.

You could hear Marshall out in the living room, probably pacing back and forth, anxious to see you. The anticipation was almost suffocating, but in a good way.

When you finally opened the bedroom door, his eyes immediately locked on you. He was sitting on the couch, leaning back with his elbows propped up on the arms, but when he saw you in that lingerie, he froze. His mouth parted in shock for a second, and his eyes traveled over every inch of you like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

"Goddamn, baby," he muttered under his breath. His voice was low, hoarse, like he was struggling to form the words. "You are a fucking masterpiece."

You walked toward him slowly, swaying your hips, loving the way his gaze followed every movement. "You like it?" you asked, your voice dripping with confidence, a little playful but still needy.

"Like it?" Marshall snorted, his lips curling into a smirk as he leaned forward. "Babe, I don’t just like it, I fucking love it. I can’t wait to fucking tear it off of you."

You laughed, stepping closer to him until you were standing between his legs. "You don’t have to wait much longer, Marshall."

His eyes burned into yours, and you could feel the heat rising between the two of you. He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer, his breath heavy against your neck. "I swear to God, you’re gonna be the death of me," he grumbled, his hands moving up to grip your back, pulling you even closer until there was barely any space left between your bodies.

"Yeah?" you teased, your voice soft as you let your fingers graze through his hair. "What are you gonna do about it?"

"Shit," he cursed, his hands slipping down to grab your ass, pulling you flush against him. You could feel how hard he was already, and you bit your lip, your heart racing. "You’re fucking mine," he growled. "God, I can’t wait to make you mine forever. I’m gonna marry you, you know that?"

You gasped a little, feeling the weight of his words settle deep inside you. You’d known it was coming, but hearing him say it, so raw and real, hit you harder than you expected.

"You keep saying that," you said, trying to hide the emotion that was creeping up on you. "You keep telling me how much you want to marry me."

"Because I fucking do," Marshall said, his voice filled with sincerity as he looked you dead in the eyes. "You’re it for me. I don’t want anyone else. I want you. I want to wake up next to you every fucking day for the rest of my life."

You felt your heart swell, your breath catching in your throat. It was rare for Marshall to get this vulnerable, but when he did, it made everything feel so much more real.

"You mean everything to me, baby," he continued, his voice soft but intense, "and I’m not going anywhere. I want to marry you and fucking spoil you. I wanna do all the shit I never thought I’d do, just to see you smile. You deserve all of it."

Your chest tightened with emotion, and you couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath. "I love you," you whispered, your hands trembling slightly as you slid them down to his chest.

"I fucking love you too," he murmured back, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. "And when I’m done with you tonight, you’re gonna know exactly how much."

Extra:

Marshall’s hands roamed over your body, every touch sending sparks through you as you kissed each other harder. His lips trailed down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. When he pulled away, he looked at you, eyes dark with desire.

“You know,” he murmured, voice thick, “we should have kids. Yeah, seriously. You’d look fucking amazing pregnant.” He smirked, his hands moving down to your waist. “I can already picture it. Your tits getting all full of milk, your body getting even more plump. Shit, you’d be even sexier as a mother.”

You couldn’t even respond, your mind too clouded by desire. His words only made your pulse race faster, and you could barely focus on anything other than how badly you wanted him. Your body was already overwhelmed, and you couldn’t do anything but let him continue, caught in the heat of the moment.

#eminem #eminem x reader #marshall mathers x reader #eminem imagine #marshall mathers #marshall mathers imagine #slim shady #fluff and smut #famous!reader #feminine reader

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cozmowrites · 2 days ago

Text

KRBK x You

The evening was warm and quiet, the perfect setting for unwinding after a long day. Kirishima had invited you and Bakugou over to his place to hang out. You didn't need to be coaxed—spending time with your boyfriend, Kirishima, was one of your favorite things. And Bakugou, though rough around the edges, had become something of a constant in your lives.

The three of you lounged on Kirishima's couch. You were tucked comfortably under his arm, your head resting on his shoulder. Kirishima had an arm draped protectively around your waist, his thumb absentmindedly stroking your side. It was cozy and safe—everything you needed after a long day.

Bakugou sat on the opposite side of the couch, pretending to be engrossed in the movie Kirishima had picked, though his clenched jaw and furrowed brow told a different story. His ruby eyes darted to you and Kirishima every few seconds, a storm brewing behind them.

He hated this.

It wasn't the movie. It wasn't the fact that Kirishima had chosen something cheesy. It wasn't even the casual affection you and Kirishima shared. No, what Bakugou hated most was the gnawing jealousy in his chest—the tug-of-war of emotions that left him feeling raw and exposed.

He liked you. That much, he'd come to terms with months ago. How could he not? You were smart, funny, and you had this warmth about you that made him feel less... explosive. But then there was Kirishima—his best friend, his rock. Somewhere along the way, Bakugou realized his feelings for Kirishima weren't purely platonic either. And now? Now, he was stuck in this maddening limbo, wanting both of you but feeling like an intruder in your relationship.

"Bakugou?"

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He blinked, realizing you and Kirishima were both looking at him.

"What?" He snapped, more defensively than he intended.

"You okay, man?" Kirishima asked, concern lacing his tone. "You've been quiet."

"I'm fine," Bakugou grumbled, crossing his arms.

You exchanged a look with Kirishima, but you didn't push. Instead, you leaned back into Kirishima, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his arm.

Bakugou's eyes flicked to where your hand rested against Kirishima's skin, and his stomach twisted. He clenched his fists, trying to ignore the warmth pooling in his chest.

He hated this.

The movie played on, but Bakugou couldn't focus. He felt like a rubber band stretched to its limit, on the verge of snapping. And when Kirishima leaned down to press a soft kiss to your temple, something inside him did.

"Can you two not?" Bakugou blurted out, his voice sharper than he intended.

Both you and Kirishima froze, turning to look at him.

"Not what?" You asked, your brows knitting together in confusion. You and Kirishima was never a problem before so why was it a problem now?

"Whatever this is," he said, gesturing vaguely at the two of you. "It's annoying."

Kirishima sat up straighter, his expression softening with understanding. "Bakugou... are you okay?"

"I said I'm fine!" Bakugou snapped, but the crack in his voice betrayed him.

You reached out, your hand hovering near his arm. "Hey... it's okay if you're not. You can talk to us."

That was the last thing he wanted to hear. He didn't want your pity or Kirishima's concern. But the way you were looking at him, with so much genuine care, made his defenses falter.

"You don't get it," Bakugou muttered, his voice quieter now. "You wouldn't understand."

Kirishima leaned forward, his brows furrowing. "Try us."

Bakugou hesitated. He'd never been good with words, and the mess of emotions inside him felt impossible to untangle. But he was tired—tired of pretending he didn't feel anything, tired of watching from the sidelines.

"I—" He took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly. "I don't know how to deal with this. With you two."

Your eyes widened slightly, but you stayed quiet, letting him speak.

"I—dammit," he growled, running a hand through his hair. "I like you, okay? Both of you. And it's driving me insane because you're together, and I'm just... here. Third-wheeling."

The confession hung heavy in the air. Bakugou's chest heaved as he tried to steady his breathing, his heart pounding like he'd just survived a battlefield.

Kirishima's expression softened, and he reached out, placing a hand on Bakugou's shoulder. "Bakugou... we care about you too. A lot."

Bakugou blinked, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Kirishima said gently, "that this doesn't have to be as complicated as you think."

You nodded, your hand finally resting on Bakugou's arm. "We're not saying we have all the answers, but... we don't want you to feel left out. Or like you don't matter to us."

Bakugou stared at you both, his mind racing. Was this real? Was it possible that the two people he cared about most could feel the same way?

"I don't..." He shook his head, his voice uncharacteristically small. "I don't know how this works."

"Neither do we," Kirishima admitted with a small laugh. "But we can figure it out."

You smiled, squeezing Bakugou's arm gently. "If you're okay with that."

Bakugou looked between you and Kirishima, his walls crumbling bit by bit. For the first time in a long time, he let himself hope.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I think I'm okay with that."

Kirishima grinned, pulling Bakugou into a one-armed hug. "That's the spirit, man!"

Bakugou grumbled something about "damn extras," but he didn't pull away. And when you leaned in to join the embrace, he didn't stop you either.

Kirishima leaned down to whisper in your ear, his voice soft yet warm, "What do you think? Should we give him a little of the attention he deserves?"

You pulled back just enough to meet Kirishima's gaze. His red eyes sparkled with sincerity, and you knew he was thinking about how much Bakugou needed this—needed to feel wanted and cared for. With a small nod, you gave him permission.

Slowly, you reached for Bakugou's hand, threading your fingers with his. His entire body tensed, his crimson eyes snapping to yours in surprise.

"What are you—?" He started, but the words died on his lips as Kirishima leaned over, his fingers threading gently through Bakugou's blond hair.

"You're always so tough, man," Kirishima murmured, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. "But you deserve to feel good too."

Bakugou's cheeks burned red, his free hand clenching into a fist. "You two are insane," he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual bite.

Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, you mumbled, "But we mean it, Katsuki."

Bakugou's lips parted, but no words came out. His eyes darted between you and Kirishima, searching for the punchline to some cruel joke. But neither of you were laughing. If anything, Kirishima's expression softened further, his hand still idly playing with Bakugou's hair.

"Hey," Kirishima started, his tone careful but sure, "I've been thinking about this for a while. What if... we tried bringing you into this? Into us? Since you kind of confessed to us, and we feel pretty much the same way."

Bakugou stiffened. His hand trembled slightly in yours, but he didn't pull away. "What the hell are you saying?"

You shared a look with Kirishima before turning back to Bakugou. "What he means is, we care about you. A lot. And we don't want you to feel like you're on the outside looking in anymore."

Kirishima nodded. "Yeah. I mean, I've liked you for ages, man. And I know how much you care about both of us, even if you suck at showing it."

Bakugou's face flushed a deeper red, and he let out a frustrated groan. "You're both idiots," he muttered, though his voice cracked slightly.

"Maybe," Kirishima said with a grin, leaning closer. "But we're your idiots, if you'll let us be."

+++

masterlist ⟢

more bakugou ⟢

requests ツ

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eyelambspider · 1 day ago

Note

hey I love ur writing.

Can you please do like any other the cod men x a chubby reader who's rlly self conscious and stuff??

idk it's rlly self indulgent

ty ♡ and its alright, I write readers like this! as for the characters and content, i sort of put a bit of everything for you soooo- here ya go!

♡ Hold You || COD Hcs

┊pairing : gn!reader x price, gaz, soap, ghost ┊content warning : fluff, hurt/comfort, nsfw, angst ┊a/n : the last hc zaps my brain so fiercely

soap! unprompted would always compliment you. its assurance, sure, but he genuinely loves your body.

soap! will always steal glances at your hips, waist, arms and hands. he would love physical affection in anyway. cuddling, or always having a hand on you gently. (it happens so often that he doesn't even notice he's doing it)

soap! is speaking to someone but his fingers are gently rubbing formless circles on your thigh or brushing his knuckles against your soft hands as if he wants to hold it.

price! would love your thighs. to feel them warming his ears and over his shoulders, his face nestled in your heat and savoring you with his tongue.

price! doesn't let you try to squirm away or try to hide if your shy. his hands are always on your hips and sides, skimming up under your shirt to feel your stomach.

the taskforce men who especially love to trace the stretchmarks on your skin. fingertips gently marveling at how soft the skin is.

ghost! just picking you up like nothing despite your worried protests. his hands sliding under your thighs and ass to hoist you up onto a counter to kiss you and smother your mumbles.

ghost! likes when you wear what you like. he might not say much when he first catches you wearing a shirt that's not baggy and actually fits you well. his brown eyes always linger a bit too long in their usual 'nonchalant' manner before they soften, like he's smiling under his mask.

gaz! this man would love sleeping with you. you are the warmest damned thing he's ever held and it shouldn't surprise you when you wake up the morning to have him practically laying on you. his head on your chest or stomach, arms on either side of you and body between your legs.

gaz! has boundless patience and time solely for you when you're having a really bad day. crying and so unsure about your body and how you look. anything you need, he'll get it for you. sitting with you, tucking a blanket around both of your laps and letting your head rest on his chest until your mind is off of it. whisper assurances that you're perfect into your temple... but most importantly, just hold you close.

(with love from @lady-boketto) ghost! sending you a video of him bench pressing your weight when you try to worry about him carrying you all the time.

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nameless-jamie · 19 hours ago

Text

YOU'RE LATE, IDIOT

Glimpse Into the Future - Jamie Tartt x fem!PA reader

Masterlist

TW: cursing, kissing, emotions, childbirth

Jamie Tartt was fucking furious.

The second his number went up on the board, signaling his substitution, his blood boiled. He had just found his rhythm, the game was still wide open, and suddenly he was being benched?

For what? A tactical change? Bullshit.

He stormed off the pitch, barely acknowledging the applause from the crowd. His eyes locked on Roy Kent, who stood by the dugout, arms crossed, face unreadable.

Jamie ripped off his sweat-soaked jersey as he approached. “What the fuck is this, Roy?” he snapped. “I ain’t injured, I ain’t tired, I—”

“Shut up,” Roy interrupted, voice firm but oddly… expectant. “Get your arse to the hospital.”

Jamie blinked. “What?”

Roy exhaled sharply, stepping closer, his expression almost gentle. “Y/N’s in labour, dickhead.”

Everything stopped.

Jamie’s ears rang. His heartbeat pounded. He swore the world tilted beneath him.

“What—now?” His voice came out hoarse.

Roy nodded. “Her water broke before the match. She told us not to tell you ‘cause she didn’t wanna mess with your focus, but it’s happening. You’re about to be a dad, mate.”

Jamie’s breath hitched.

He should’ve been worried, should’ve been panicking, but all he could think was—

She’s having our baby. Right now. Without me.

His feet moved before his brain caught up. “Car. Now. I need a car.”

Before he could bolt, Will grabbed him by the shoulders. “Wait, Jamie, mate—you’re still in your kit—”

“Don’t give a fuck,” Jamie blurted, already pushing past him.

Roy whistled. “Oi, someone drive his dramatic arse before he sprints there himself.”

“I got it,” Coach Beard said, already heading toward the parking lot. “Let’s go, Tartt.”

Jamie barely heard him. His head was spinning, his body running on pure adrenaline.

As he rushed past the rest of the team, Dani called out, “Tell her we love her!”

“Tell the baby we say hi!” Sam added.

Jamie waved vaguely, not slowing down.

He had one job now.

Get to her. Now.

Jamie nearly tripped over his own feet as he burst into the hospital room, his heart hammering in his chest.

Y/N was propped up in bed, looking exhausted but radiant, her hair messy, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling with relief the second she saw him.

And in her arms—

Jamie froze.

Everything else disappeared.

The tiny bundle against her chest shifted, a small hand peeking out from the blanket.

His baby.

Their baby.

Jamie swallowed hard. “Oh, fuck.”

Y/N let out a breathy laugh. “Nice entrance, Tartt. That's the first thing your baby's going to hear from you.”

Jamie stumbled toward her, his hands shaking. “I—I wasn’t—Roy pulled me from the match—”

“I know.” She smirked, though her eyes were glassy. “I told them not to tell you until after, but apparently Roy doesn’t listen to me.”

Jamie huffed out a disbelieving laugh, running a trembling hand through his sweat-damp hair. “You—you did all this without me?”

Y/N softened. “Barely. He came fast.”

He.

Jamie’s breath hitched. “We—we had a boy?”

Y/N nodded, shifting slightly to reveal the tiny, pink-faced baby nestled against her.

Jamie just… stared.

“I—can I—?” He couldn’t finish the sentence, too overwhelmed, too in awe.

Y/N smiled. “Of course, Jamie.”

Carefully, she shifted the baby into his arms, guiding his hands until he was cradling their son against his chest.

Jamie Tartt, Premier League footballer, man who had scored impossible goals under unimaginable pressure—

Had never been this scared in his life.

But then—

The baby yawned, his tiny fingers twitching against his skin, and just like that—

Jamie melted.

“Oh, fuck, he’s so small,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/N let out a tired laugh. “That tends to happen with newborns.”

Jamie ignored her, completely enraptured. “He’s perfect.”

His son squirmed, making a tiny noise, and Jamie’s heart cracked wide open.

He bent his head, pressing the gentlest kiss to his forehead. “Hey, baby. I’m your dad.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, watching the scene with watery eyes. “He already loves you, you know.”

Jamie scoffed, but his throat was tight. “Yeah, well. I love him more.”

Y/N smiled, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “You’re gonna be a great dad, Jamie.”

Jamie looked at her, his best friend, the love of his life, the mother of his child—

And he knew, without a doubt, that he would spend the rest of his life proving her right.

The next day, Jamie had barely gotten Y/N and the baby settled when the entire fucking team stormed into the hospital.

Dani, Sam, Colin, Isaac—everyone was there. Even Roy had shown up, grumbling about how he “didn’t give a shit about babies” but still sticking around.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You lot are ridiculous.”

Isaac folded his arms, feigning offense. "You really thought you could pop out a baby and we wouldn’t show up? Come on, love, we’re family."

Y/N huffed out a laugh, shaking her head. "You are ridiculous."

Jamie, who was still holding their son like he was the most precious thing in the world, grinned. "She’s right, y’know. Bunch of dramatic pricks."

That earned him a round of Oi's! and Fuck off, Tartt's!, but he was too busy looking down at his baby boy to care.

Dani leaned in, beaming. "Oh my goodness, he is so beautiful."

Sam placed a gentle hand over his heart. "He looks just like you, Y/N."

Jamie scowled. "Oi, what’s that supposed to mean? You sayin’ my kid ain’t got my genes? That's my boy!"

Y/N smirked. "They’re saying he’s cute, Jamie. Unlike someone when they’re pouting."

The boys burst into laughter as Jamie groaned, tilting his head back dramatically. "Unbelievable."

Roy's gruff voice cut through the noise of the team. All of them were just arguing about who gets to hold Baby Tartt first, and the entire room went still.

Jamie blinked. "Wait—what?"

Roy sighed heavily, looking deeply inconvenienced as he held out his hands. "I said give me the kid, Tartt."

Silence.

Everyone stared.

Jamie hesitated. "You wanna hold him?"

"Do I look like I wanna hold him?" Roy grumbled. "No. But if I don’t, you lot will keep looking at me like I’m some heartless bastard. So pass him here before I change my mind. I'm his godfather after all."

Jamie exchanged a glance with Y/N, who was barely holding back a smirk.

"Alright," Jamie murmured, carefully placing the baby in Roy’s massive hands. "But you drop my baby, mate, I’m legally allowed to kill you."

Roy snorted. "Shut up, Tartt."

And then—

The impossible happened.

Roy Kent—grumpy, growling, perpetually pissed-off Roy Kent—looked down at the tiny, squirming baby in his arms… and his face softened.

Like actually softened.

Like genuinely softened.

"Well," he muttered, adjusting his hold. "He’s alright, I s’pose."

Isaac gasped. "Did Roy Kent just—"compliment"—a baby? Jamie Tartt's baby even."

"I heard it too," Jan said. "Mark this day in history."

Even Ted, who had FaceTimed in to see the baby, grinned. "Well, shoot, Roy. Didn't know you had it in ya. Big ole' softy."

Roy grumbled something about everyone shutting the fuck up, but the way he looked at the baby—like he was something worth protecting—didn’t go unnoticed.

Jamie sat beside Y/N, wrapping an arm around her as they watched Roy, Dani, and Sam argue over who got to hold the baby next.

"See?" Y/N whispered. "Told you they’d all love him."

Jamie exhaled softly, pressing a lingering kiss to the side of her head.

"Yeah," he murmured. "But they don’t love him more than I do."

Y/N smiled. "Obviously. You’re his dad."

Jamie grinned, looking down at the tiny baby who had already stolen his entire heart.

"Damn right I am."

#jamie tartt #ted lasso #ted lasso show #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #afc richmond #jamie tartt imagine #roy kent #sam obisanya #Jamie Tartt x PA

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yvesdoee · 10 hours ago

Text

content 𐙚 : when you and babygumi bring a stray into the house 🐈‍⬛

warnings 𐙚 : fem reader, just pure fluff :3 wc : 950

toji doesn't like animals. he made that clear to you when you first asked for a kitten at the early stage of your relationship. he said something about ‘not wanting fur all over his clothes’ and ‘his shoes getting shat on’. so every time you saw a cute cat video on tiktok you had to deal with your cat fever on your own (yeah, it’s like baby fever but with cats). you have long since resigned yourself to the fact that there are not and will not be animals in this house.

then you married and had megumi. you and toji barely had time for yourself, let alone a pet. although megumi grew up and became easier to handle, you decided that he was enough for you.

you and megumi went outside to buy groceries. the weather wasn't hot, but it wasn't cold either, perfect for a walk. you bought everything you needed and were on your way home with nothing to look forward to.

"kitty!" a 4-year-old boy ran up to the curb outside your yard and crouched down. you approached him curiously and saw a small gray street kitten being petted by megumi. you were about to admonish him that this kitten might be flea-ridden or dirty, but you knew that baby had a soft spot for animals and nothing could stop him from petting him. just like you.

little boy cooed at the animal and stroked it gently, and the sight had your heart swelling with affection. he turned to you with a pleading look and you already knew what that meant. you sighed. you should say no. you can't take that responsibility on yourself and your husband without discussing it with him first. you should say no. you should..

but you're not heartless, are you? you can't just leave this poor, defenseless kitten on the street. of course you can’t. your gaze softened as you looked at him. the kitten was obviously starving. he meowed softly at you, as if saying ‘please, keep me’.

a simple grocery shopping trip turned into something more. you took the kitten to the vet, bought cat shampoo, a litter box, food and a couple of toys (megumi insisted). when you brought him home, you bathed him, fed him, and let him sleep in a warm and cozy place. yeah, toji’s gonna be really pissed.

your husband came home from work late at night. he had dirt and dried blood on his clothes, and he looked like he'd give his life for a hot shower and a nice dinner. you and megumi went to meet him.

“hey, sweets.” he kissed your cheek and rubbed your back while you hugged him. “hey, brat.” he crouched down and hugged gumi’s little body as well. toji walked tiredly into the living room, where your new little family member was sleeping peacefully on the couch in front of the tv, and your heart skipped a beat.

oh.

toji stopped in the aisle and just stared at the kitten, who didn't even noticed him.

“what the hell is that thing?”

megumi walked over to the kitten and picked it up in his tiny hands, showing it off toji. “that’s mr. cat.” he announced proudly.

"yes, i see what it is. i’m asking where it came from." (he didn't ask that, but we won't talk about that).

you walked over to toji and put your hand on his chest. "honey, this poor animal was all alone on the street, hungry and lost." you said dramatically. "megs spotted him and wanted to take him home, and i just couldn't say no."

you walked over to your son, who was still holding the kitten, and put your arm around his shoulder. “isn’t that the most heartbreaking story?” you asked, giving him that puppy eyes look that always helped you in getting something. megs also learned it from you, and it didn't make things any easier for toji.

toji sighed. yes, he didn't want any animals in his house, and he hadn't changed his mind. but seeing his wife and son so happy, doting on the kitten, he just couldn't bring himself to say no. and he couldn't just throw it outside, he's not a monster. dammit.

he sighed again, and then tsked some more before he spoke. “..you can keep it, i guess.”

“yay!!” both you and megumi cheered.

“thank you, daddy.” megumi hugged toji’s leg affectionately, and toji’s heart nearly melted, but he keeped his tough guy behaviour.

“yeah, yeah, whatever makes you two happy. now go to sleep, brat, it’s late.”

when megumi went to bed and then you fell asleep too, toji sat down on the couch in front of the tv where mr. cat was lying. he looked at the cat with indifference on his face and rolled his eyes. soon the kitten stretched out and then came over to toji, laying down on his thigh.

toji froze, not knowing what to do. should he put it away? he carefully encircled the kitten's small body with his large palm and tried to pull it away gently, but the kitten clawed hard into the fabric, and toji hissed.

he got over it and let the kitten fall asleep on his leg. he spent quite a long time like that until the cat woke up again and decided he needed to change his sleeping place. toji got up from the couch, stretched, and grumbled his way to your bedroom.

he lay down on your bed, enclosing your sleeping form in a bear hug, as he did every night. he physically rolled his eyes again, thinking about the kitten, and then finally fell asleep. maybe that thing wasn’t that terrible.

a/n : this is my first drabble ever and that’s kinda ahh :3 also english is not my first language, so i apologize for any grammatical flaws !

#toji fushiguro #toji jjk #toji jujutsu kaisen #toji fluff #toji x reader #toji x you #megumi fushiguro #jjk megumi #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #toji fushiguro x reader #dad toji #toji imagine #dad!toji

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boobear061 · 2 days ago

Text

Valentine's Day

Summary: Y/n and Jungkook are on vacation celebrating Valentines day.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: smut

WC: 6,346

Warning: daddy kink, swearing, kissing, oral ( m&f receiving ), nipple play, blow job, hand job, fingering, spanking, choking, grinding, shower sex, anal sex, clit spanking, vibrator, nipple biting, squirting, sex toys, whimpering, reverse cowgirl position, hair pulling

~ Y/n's POV ~

Jungkook and I arrived at our Airbnb from going out to dinner, it was so beautiful, everything was perfect, we had a good time.

We are on a short vacation at ( Vacation Destination ) for Valentines Day.

I walked over to the balcony, looked at the view, heard Jungkook walked over to me, wrapped his arms around my waist, kissed my cheek, rest his head on my shoulder and said " The view is beautiful, huh? "

" Yes, it is. I love it. "

He kissed my neck, pulled away and said " Wanna go to the hot tub? "

" Sure, let's go. "

Jungkook unwrapped his arms away from my waist, he walked over to the hot tub, turned it on, we walked inside the house to our bedroom, changed, he got our towels, and we walked outside.

We walked to the hot tub, he set our towels down on the chair, he touched the water, looked at me and said " The water is ready. "

He helped me get in the hot tub, got in behind me, we sat down, let out a relaxed sigh, I let out a low moan and said " That feels so good. "

" Yes, it is. "

I looked at Jungkook, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes and said " What? "

" Huh? "

He opened his eyes, looked at me and said " You're looking at me. "

I blushed and said " Of course, I have a fine fiancé. "

Jungkook blushed, smiled, looked the other way, giggled and said " Stop. "

" What, it's true. "

He looked at me, scoot closer to me and said " I have a beautiful fiancé and I can't wait to marry you and spend the rest of my life with you. "

I smiled and said " Me too. "

He leaned in, kissed my lips, I kissed him back, he rested his hand on my hip, deepened the kiss, bring his hand down to my thigh, I straddled his lap, and rest my hands on his chest.

Jungkook wrapped his arms around my waist, I pulled away from the kiss, looked at him and said " I want you, right now. "

" Here in the hot tub? "

I nod my head, cupped his face with my hands, leaned in, kissed his lips, he kissed me back, I grind against him which made him let out a groan against the kiss, he bring his hands down to my ass and gave it a squeeze.

He pulled me close to him, deepened the kiss, I grind on him a little faster, he pulled away from the kiss, leaned his head back and said " Oh fuck. "

I leave wet kisses up and down his neck, left some hickies, heard Jungkook let out a moan, I felt him hardened underneath me and he said " Fuck, keep going for me baby. "

I moved away from his neck, looked at him, we looked at each other with lust in our eyes, he squeezed my ass again, bring his hands up to my hips, leave wet kisses up and down my neck, leaving hickies, I ran my fingers through his hair and gently pulled on it.

Jungkook moaned against my neck, pulled away, cupped my boobs with his hands, squeezed them, circled my nipples with his thumbs, I bite my bottom lip, and felt shivers going down my spine.

He kissed his way down to my chest, licked in between my boobs, exposed my boobs out of the bathing top, pulled on my nipples, I let out a moan, he licked my left nipple and gently bite down on it.

" Oh fuck, Daddy. " I let out a moan.

He opened his mouth, flicked his tongue on my nipple, sucked on it, I grind on him faster which made him moan against my boob, his mouth left my boob with a pop, and did the same attention to my other nipple.

Jungkook bite down my nipple, I let out a whimper, he flicked his tongue, with his other hand he bring it down to my ass and gave it a squeeze, I moaned his name, and felt his dick twitched.

A few minutes later, we both cummed, Jungkook leave wet kisses to my chest to my neck, pulled away, looked at me, leaned in and kissed my lips.

I kissed him back, he squeezed my boobs, pulled on my nipples, our tongues fought for dominance, he pulled away, looked at me and said " Let's go inside. "

I nod my head, got off him, fixed my bathing top, we got off the hot tub, dried our bodies with the towels, walked inside the house, Jungkook locked the door behind us, we looked at each other, he stood in front of me, and tucked my hair behind my ear.

He leaned in, kissed my lips, I kissed him back, he rest his hands on my hips, I wrapped my arms around his neck, he lift me up, walked over to the bedroom, pulled away and put me down.

We walked over to the bathroom, he turned on the shower, turned around, stood in front of me, undressed me slowly, bring his hands down to my ass, gave it a squeeze and spanked it.

I bring my hands to his chest, moved them up and down, kissed his lips, he kissed me back, I bring my hand down to his hard on, and gave it a squeeze which made him let out a moan against the kiss.

We pulled away from the kiss, he took his swim trunks off, we walked in the shower, the water hit our bodies, I bring my hands to his chest, leave wet kisses on his neck, he rest his hands on my hips, I pulled away and looked at him.

He kissed my lips, I kissed him back, he deepened the kiss, squeezed my boobs, pulled away from the kiss, turned me around, pinned me against the glass wall, the coldness of the glass send shivers down my spine, he lift my leg up, slide his dick up and down my pussy to my clit.

I closed my eyes, he insert his dick in my pussy, thrust his hips, we both let out a moan and he whispered in my ear " Rub your clit for me baby. "

I bring my hand down, rubbed my clit, let out a moan and he said " That's it baby, keep rubbing. "

" Daddy, fuck. "

Jungkook leave wet kisses on my back to my neck, moaned against it, I rubbed my clit faster, he kissed his way to my ear and whispered " You're taking all of Daddy's dick like a good girl. I can't get over how good your pussy feels. * Moaned * Who's my good girl? "

" I am. " I whispered.

He wrapped his hand around my neck, choked me and said " What was that? I didn't hear you. "

" I am! " I shouted.

" Good girl. " He said and sucked on my earlobe.

He fucked me deeper, unwrapped his hand away from my neck, the steam fogged up the glass, Jungkook pulled on my hair, leaned my head back, kissed my shoulder, licked his way up to my neck and gave it a kiss.

He fucked me rougher, I whimpered and he said in my ear " You like it when Daddy fucks you a little cum slut? Huh? "

" Yes, Daddy! " I moaned out loud.

A few minutes later, we both cummed, he pulled out, put my leg down, I turned around to face him, he leaned in, kissed my lips, I kissed him back, he lift me up, I wrapped my legs around his torso, he walked over to the bench, and sat down with me straddling his lap.

He deepened the kiss, I grind my pussy against his dick, our tongues fought for dominance, I insert his dick in my pussy, rode him up and down, I pulled away from the kiss, Jungkook licked and sucked on my left nipple.

" Oh fuck, Daddy. "

Our skins slapped against each other, he squeezed and spanked my ass hard, spread my ass cheeks, rubbed circles on my asshole, slowly insert his finger in and out.

I let out a gasp and said " Oh fuck! "

His mouth left my boob with a pop, looked at me and said " Relax for me baby, that's a good girl. " Jungkook insert more of his finger in my asshole.

I relaxed, let out a whimper, he kissed my forehead and said " Yes, that's a good girl for Daddy. "

He fingered my ass for a few seconds, took his finger out, spanked my ass hard, wrapped his arms around my waist, thrust his hips, I cupped his face with my hands, leaned in, and kissed his lips.

We both moaned against the kiss, he squeezed my ass, I grind against him, pulled away from the kiss, rest my head on his neck, moaned his name out loud, and he said " Fuck, yes Y/n. You feel so fucking good. "

We are here laying down on the bed watching a movie, I have my head on Jungkook's chest, he gave my hair kissed here and there, I moved my head away from his chest and leave wet kisses on his neck.

Jungkook gulped, I gently sucked on his neck, caressed his abs with my hand, lift up his shirt, leave kisses on his abs to his chest, cupped his hard on through his sweatpants and gave it a gentle squeeze.

He let out a low moan, I licked his chest and gave it a kiss, gave his hard on a squeeze again, pulled away, straddled his lap, Jungkook looked at me with lust in his eyes, I bring my hands on his chest, and moved them up and down.

Gently raked my nails down his chest, leaned in, kissed his lips, he kissed me back, bring his hands on my hips, I grind on him, pulled away from the kiss, looked at him, he let out a moan, leaned his head back and said " Oh fuck. Y/n. "

I took off his shirt that I'm wearing, threw it across the room, I cupped my bare boobs, gave them a squeeze, moved my hands to his stomach, grind on him faster for a few seconds before getting off him, cupped his hardness with my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Bring my hands to the waistline of the sweatpants, looked at him and said " Let's take this off. "

" Wait, I wanna do you first. "

I shook my head and said " No, I'm going to pleasure you and you're going to lay there like a good Daddy and enjoy it. "

He nod his head, I took off his sweatpants along with his boxers, wrapped my hand around it, licked the shaft to the head, sticked my tongue out, slapped his dick on my tongue which made Jungkook let out a moan, I licked the shaft again and moved my mouth away.

I bring my index finger to the head of his dick, rubbed circles on it, saw that his dick twitched a little, I bite my bottom lip, wrapped my hand around his dick, spit on it and jerked him off.

" Oh fuck, Y/n." Jungkook moaned.

I gave the head of his dick a kiss, sticked my tongue out, slapped his dick on my tongue, Jungkook let out a low moan, I insert his dick in my mouth, and gave him a blow job.

Jungkook bring his hand to the back of my head, I looked up at him, he ran his tongue on his lip piercing and said " Fuck, you look so fucking hot with your mouth wrapped around my dick. "

He thrust his hips, I insert more of his dick in my mouth, felt him at the back of my throat, I closed my eyes, let out a moan against his dick and he said " Yes, baby. Keep going. Your mouth feels so fucking good. "

I opened my eyes, looked at Jungkook, he leaned his head back and moaned my name, I felt my clit throb through my shorts, he thrust his hips faster, I choked on his dick which made Jungkook let out a whimper.

" Oh fuck, I'm going to cum baby. " Jungkook moaned.

He cummed in my mouth, I moved my mouth away from his dick, swallowed his cum, he catched his breath, looked at me and said " Come here. "

I hovered him, he leaned in, kissed my lips, I kissed him back, our tongues fought for dominance, I sucked on his tongue which made him let out a moan, he flipped us around so that he is hovering me, he pulled away from the kiss and leave wet kisses up and down my neck.

I closed my eyes, ran my fingers through his hair, he left hickies, licked them, leave wet kisses down to my chest, licked on my left nipple, blew air on it, gently bite it which made me out a whimper, he sucked on my nipple, bring his hand down, and teased my clit through my shorts.

He opened his mouth, flicked his tongue on my nipple, did the same attention to my right nipple, he slapped my clit, I let out a moan and said " Oh fuck, Daddy. "

Jungkook moved his hand away from my clit, bring it up to my left boob, pulled on my nipple, I moaned his name, his mouth left my boob with a pop, moved his fingers away from my nipple and leave wet kisses down to my stomach.

He licked his way back up to my chest to my neck, gave it a kiss, pulled away, looked at me, leaned in, kissed my lips, I kissed him back, he rubbed my clit, I let out a moan, he pulled away from the kiss, and got out of the bed.

I saw him walked over to his suitcase, he digged in, got out a bag, walked over to me, I looked at the bag in confusion and said " What's in that bag? "

He smirked, set the bag down, kissed my forehead, pulled away, opened the bag, took out my vibrator, I gasped and said " I didn't know you brought it. "

" I didn't want you to know. I want it to be a surprise. "

He turned on the vibrator and set it on my left nipple, I let out a gasp, he moved it side to side, I bite my bottom lip, he moved the vibrator to my right nipple, spread my legs open, got in between them, leave wet kisses on my stomach, and moved the vibrator away from my nipple.

Jungkook got in between my legs, set the vibrator on my clit, I let out a moan, he leave wet kisses up and down my thighs to my inner thighs, leave hickies, I bring my hand to the back of his head, gently pulled on his hair.

I can feel my pussy dripping wet, he moved the vibrator away from my clit, looked at it, rubbed my clit with his thumb and said " Fuck, you're so fucking wet for me baby. "

He moved his thumb away, leaned in, licked my clit through my shorts, I bite my bottom lip, he moved away, rubbed my clit again, gave it a light spank, looked at me and said " Let's take this off. "

I nod my head, he took off my shorts along with my thong, threw it across the room, spread my legs open, got in between them, leave wet kisses up and down my inner thighs, spit on my clit, licked and sucked on it.

" Oh fuck. " I moaned.

Jungkook insert two fingers in my pussy, began to finger me, flicked his tongue on my clit, let out a moan, his lips smacked on my clit, fingered me deeper, I cupped my boobs with my hands and gave them a squeeze.

Pulled on my nipples, watched as Jungkook moved his head side to side, with his other hand he moved his hair away from his face, I bring my hand down to pushed his hair back, and grind against his fingers.

He moved his mouth away from my clit, strings of his spit and my juices are on his lips, looked at me and said " Can you put my hair in a ponytail for me baby? "

I nod my head, took the scrunchie out of my wrist, put his hair in a ponytail, he licked his lips, once I'm done he grabbed my hand, kissed the back of my hand and said " Thank you baby. "

He fingered me faster, I moaned and said " You're welcome. "

Jungkook went back to licking and sucking on my clit, the wetness of my pussy echoed the room, he let out a moan against my clit, moved his mouth away, licked his lips, looked at me and said " I love the way how your wet pussy sounds. It turns me on so much. "

" Fuck, Daddy. " I moaned.

" Yes, baby. That's it. Moan for me. Tell me baby, how does it feel? " He insert more of his fingers in my pussy.

" It feels so good Daddy. " I spread my legs wider.

He grabbed the vibrator, set it on my clit, moved it up and down, I let out a moan, he fingered me faster, I leaned my head back, he put the level of the vibrator higher, I arched my back, fist the bed sheets, he got up, licked and sucked on my right nipple.

" Oh fuck!! " I moaned out loud.

My toes curled, his mouth left my boob with a pop, looked at me, I wrapped my arms around his neck, bring him close to me, kissed his lips, he kissed me back, our tongues fought for dominance, I moaned against the kiss, he pulled away from the kiss, looked at me and said " I love you so much baby. So, so much. "

" I love you too. So, so much. " I moaned.

" I want you to cum for me, can you do that for me baby? "

" Yes, Daddy. "

" I can't wait to have your pussy wrapped around my dick as I'm fucking you. Having you moaning for me as you're taking me like a good girl. " He fingered me faster.

I moaned louder, he kissed my lips, I kissed him back, pulled away, leaned my head back and said " Daddy! Keep going, please. Please. "

" Yes, baby. I won't stop until you cum for me. "

A few minutes later, my pussy clenched against his fingers, I moaned his name louder, he kissed my inner thighs, looked at me and said " Cum for me baby, come on. "

He fingered me faster, the vibrations going higher, he bite his bottom lip, I let out a whimper, squirted on his fingers, he quickly moved the vibrator away from my clit, licked my clit, and drank my " potion ".

" Oh * Voice cracks * Fuckk! * Moaned out loud * D-Daddy! Fuckk. "

Jungkook let out a moan, with his other hand he held onto my leg so I won't close them, he didn't stop fingering me until I stop squirting, once I stopped, he backed away, licked his lips, and looked at me with lust in his eyes.

He took his fingers out of my pussy, bring them to his mouth, licked and sucked on them, let out a moan, pulled them away from his mouth, bring his hands to my thighs, lift my legs up in the air, leaned in, kissed my lips, and I kissed him back.

Jungkook pulled away from the kiss, kissed the back of my legs down to my thighs, when he got to my pussy he spit on it, gave it a kiss, looked at me and said " I want you to squirt one more time for me before I fuck you, can you handle one more baby? "

I nod my head and said " Yes, Daddy. "

He kissed my thigh, licked my slit to my clit, flicked his tongue before sucking on it, he insert his tongue in my pussy, pleasured me, I couldn't stop moaning his name, and he tongue fucked me faster.

Jungkook tapped my thighs, I held onto them, he teased my clit, pinched on it, I leaned my head back and moaned his name, he spanked my clit, moved his mouth away from my pussy, moved his fingers away from my clit, and spit on it.

He licked and sucked on my clit, insert his fingers in my pussy, began to finger me deeper, he moved his head side to side, moaned against it, I looked at him, he moved his mouth away from my clit, my wetness glistening on his lips, he licked them and said " Fuck, I can't get enough of your taste baby. You taste so fucking good. I love it so much. "

" You're doing so good Daddy, it feels so good. "

" Yes, baby. "

" Oh fuck!! " My voice cracked and moaned.

Jungkook moaned against my clit, slurping on my juices, my pussy clenched on his fingers, I squirted on his fingers, he moved his mouth away from my clit, drank my " champagne confetti ", I couldn't stop moaning his name.

He continued fingering me faster, once I stopped squirting he moved his fingers away from my pussy, licked my slit to my clit, moved his mouth away, looked at me, my juices dripping down his chin, his lips glistening, he licked them, wiped his chin, put my legs down, leave a trail of wet kisses on my body to my lips, and kissed me.

I kissed him back, he pulled away, looked at me and whispered " You did so good for me baby. I'm so proud of you. "

" Thank you Daddy. "

He kissed my lips, I kissed him back, he deepened the kiss, rubbed my clit, pulled away from the kiss, looked at me and said " Is it okay with you that we continue? "

I nod my head and said " Yes, please continue. "

He gave me one last kiss before leaving back, wrapped his hand around his dick, slapped his dick on my clit before sliding his dick up and down my slit for a few seconds before inserting it inside my pussy.

I let out a gasp, he thrust his hips, looked at boobs that are bouncing up and down with every move he made, the headboard banging on the wall, the room is filled with our moans along with our skins slapping against each other, Jungkook and I looked at each other with lust in our eyes.

" Oh fuck, Daddy. " I moaned.

" Yes, baby. That's it, moan for me. " He fucked me deeper and a little faster.

I fisted the bed sheets, he bring his hand down, rubbed my clit, I leaned my head back, he licked my neck, gave it a kiss, moved his fingers away from my clit, backed away, looked at me, grabbed the vibrator, turned it on and rest it on my clit.

" Oh fuck! " I looked at him and moaned out loud.

" Hold this for me baby. " He said.

I grabbed the vibrator, he squeezed my boobs, pulled on my nipples, I let out a moan and he said " Fuck, baby. You fit me so well. I can't get enough of you. You're so perfect. You're being so good for Daddy. "

Jungkook wrapped his hand around my neck, choked me, leaned in, kissed my forehead, moved away, looked at me and said " Who's my good girl, huh? "

" I am. " I whimpered.

" Yes, baby. You're such a good girl for Daddy and he loves you so much. So, so much. * Moans * He loves the way how your body reacts to him whenever he fucks that pretty little pussy of yours. "

" Daddy! " I moaned out loud.

He put the setting of the vibrator higher, I let out a whimper as he's fucking me faster, he unwrapped his hand away from my neck, I arched my back, he leaned in and kissed my lips.

I kissed him back, moved the vibrator away from my clit, set it aside, Jungkook grabbed my legs, wrapped them around his torso, pulled me closer to him, he pulled away from the kiss, looked at me and said " Oh fuck, Y/n. "

I bring my hands to his back, moved them up and down, raked my nails down his back which he let out a groan, fucked me harder, I wrapped my arms around his back and said " I love your body baby, I love the way how you fuck me. "

" Fuck, Y/n. "

We both cummed, he moved my legs away from his torso, pulled out of me, looked at my pussy, rubbed my clit and said " Fuck, look at our cum leaking out of you. "

He gently spanked my clit, kissed my lips, pulled away, looked at me and said " Go on all fours for me baby. "

I nod my head, he got off the bed, I go on all fours, he squeezed and spanked my ass, leave wet kisses up and down my back, licked his way up to my neck, gave it a kiss, moved away and I heard him dig into the bag.

Jungkook squeezed my ass and said " Spread your legs wider and spread your ass for me. "

I did what he said, felt something wet on my asshole, Jungkook rubbed circles on the hole, I closed my eyes, he insert his finger in and slowly fingered me.

Jungkook kissed my right ass cheek, pulled away and said " Relax for me baby. Fuck, you're so tight. Gotta stretch you out for later. "

I let out a moan, whimper and said " Oh fuck. D-Daddy I- "

" What is it baby? Hm? Tell Daddy. " He moved his finger out of my hole and I let out a gasp when I felt his tongue.

He bring his hands on my ass, squeezed it, let out a moan, he licked my hole for a few seconds before moving his mouth away, gave my left ass cheek a kiss, heard him opened something like a bottle, felt something wet on my asshole and he rubbed it around with his finger.

My eyes widened when I saw the butt plug of a purple heart in front of my mouth and he whispered in my ear " Get it wet for me baby. "

I licked it, insert it in my mouth, Jungkook continued rubbing my asshole which made me moan against the butt plug, and he whispered in my ear " Yes, that's it baby. Get it nice and wet for Daddy. * Kissed her temple and whispered in her ear * I can't wait to put this in your asshole and looked at it as I'm fucking your pussy from behind. Would you like that baby? "

I nod my head, he sucked on my earlobe, moved the plug away from my mouth, I looked at him, he leaned in, kissed my lips, I kissed him back, he pulled away, kissed my forehead before pulling away, he moved his fingers away from my asshole, squeezed my ass and said " You ready baby? "

" Yes, Daddy. "

Jungkook bring the plug on my asshole, moved it side to side before inserting it in, he leave kisses on my lower back, I let out a moan and a gasp, he moved his lips away and said " Relax for me baby. That's it. That's a good girl for Daddy. It's almost all the way in. "

I gripped on the bed sheets, moaned his name, let out a moan when it is all the way in, Jungkook gave my lower back one last kiss and said " There you go. Fuck, * Squeezed her ass * it looks so fucking good on you. "

He gave my ass cheeks a kiss, pulled away, squeezed my ass and said " You ready baby? "

" Yes, Daddy. "

" Remember, if this is getting too much for you, say the word purple and I'll stop okay? " He showered my back with kisses.

" Yes, Daddy. "

He moved away from my back, insert his dick in my pussy from behind, thrust his hips, bring his hands on my hips, we both moaned and he said " How you feeling baby? "

" So good Daddy. Keep going, please. "

He fucked me deeper, moved the butt plug in and out of my ass, I arched my back, let out a whimper, with his other hand he wrapped his hand around my neck and choked me.

" OH FUCK! " I screamed and let out a whimper.

" You sound so fucking hot baby. Get loud for me baby. I want to hear you. " He fucked me faster.

He moved his hand away from the butt plug, spanked my ass, unwrapped his hand away from my neck, bring his hands to my back, moved them up and down to my waist, wrapped his arms around my waist, pulled me closer to him, felt his chest on my back, and he moaned in my ear.

" So fucking good. * Moaned * My wife's pussy feels so fucking good.

" I love being your fuck slut Daddy. " I moaned.

" You do baby? You love it? * Moaned * You love it when I'm fucking you like a good fucking cum slut that you are? Huh? "

" Yes, yes! " I whimpered.

Jungkook kissed my neck, moaned against it, I fist the bed sheets harder, he moved away from my neck, kissed my cheek and said " Look at me baby. "

I looked at him, he wrapped his hand around my neck, choked me and said " Fuck, Y/n. I can't get enough of you. "

" Daddy? " I moaned.

" Yes, baby? "

" I love you. "

" I love you too baby, so much. " He leaned in and kissed my lips.

I kissed him back, we both moaned against the kiss, he fucked me harder, deepened the kiss, unwrapped his hand away from my neck, our tongues fought for dominance, he pulled away from the kiss, moved back and bring his hands on my hips.

A few minutes later, we both cummed, he showered my back with kisses and said " That's my good girl. Now, I'm going to take the butt plug out okay? "

" Yes, Daddy. "

He took the butt plug slowly, I let out a gasp, once the plug is out he opened a cap, felt something wet on my asshole which I knew is lube, heard him open something, and said " Put your arms behind your back for me. "

What is he going to do?

I put my arms behind my back, he handcuffed my wrists together, kissed the back of my arms and said " Remember your safe word baby. "

" Yes, Daddy. "

He slowly insert his dick in my asshole, I let out a loud gasp and moan, Jungkook let out a shaken sigh and said " Fuck.. "

Jungkook fucked my ass slowly and said " You're so fucking tight baby. You okay baby? "

I nod my head didn't say anything just let out a moan, he stopped and said " Answer me baby, how do you feel? "

" Keep going. Please. Don't stop. " I begged.

" You gotta answer me when I ask you a question baby. I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I want you to enjoy every single moment. Pleasuring you is my number one priority. You got that? "

" Yes, Daddy. "

He thrust his hips, bring his hands on my arms, fucked me deeper, we let out a moan, he spanked my ass, and said " Now, I'm going to ask you again. How do you feel? "

" So good Daddy. Don't stop, please. " I moaned.

" Oh fuck. I'm gonna cum! " I moaned out loud.

" Cum for me baby, come on. Cum for Daddy. " He fucked me faster.

I cummed, he pulled out and said " Face me and go on all fours baby. "

I did what he said, Jungkook jerked himself off and said " Open your mouth. "

I opened my mouth, he cummed in, let out a moan, once he's done I swallowed his cum, he bring his hand to my chin, leaned in, licked my lips, kissed them, I kissed him back, felt his hands on my wrists, and he uncuffed them.

Jungkook pulled away from the kiss, grabbed my wrists, gave them a kiss, looked at me and said " Straddle my lap baby. "

I nod my head, he sat down, I straddled his lap, cupped his face with my hands, leaned in, kissed his lips, he kissed me back, I insert his dick in my pussy, slowly rode him up and down, grind against him, Jungkook moaned against the kiss, I pulled away from the kiss and leave wet kisses up and down his neck.

" Oh fuck, Y/n. " He moaned.

Jungkook bring his hands to my ass, squeezed and spanked them, I let out a moan against his neck, pulled away, we looked at each other with lust in our eyes, our skins slapped against each other echoing the room along with our moans.

" Daddy, fuck! " I moaned.

He nod his head and said " Yes, baby. Ride me baby, don't stop until you're cumming. You're doing so good. "

He bring his hands to my boobs, gave them a squeeze, pulled on my nipples, leave wet kisses up and down my chest, licked my left nipple, gently bite them before sucking on them, I let out a moan, ran my fingers through his hair and pulled on it.

" Fuck! " I moaned and rode him faster.

Jungkook let out a moan against my boob, his mouth left my boob with a pop, I leaned back, he bring his hand down and rubbed my clit, my boobs bounced up and down with every move I made, he bring his other hand to my back, and thrust his hips.

" Y/n, fuck. " Jungkook moaned.

I switched my position to reverse cowgirl, rode him up and down, he squeezed and spanked my ass, I grind against him, rode him for a few minutes, he bring his arms around my waist, bring me close to him, my back is on his chest, he kissed my cheek, thrust his hips, and I moaned out loud.

He wrapped his arm around my neck in a headlock, whispered sweet nothings in my ear, fucked me harder and deeper, my eyes rolled to the back of my head, I let out a whimper, with his other hand he rubbed my clit fast, he kissed my temple and moaned my name.

" Fuck! " We both moaned.

" Y/n. " Jungkook whimpered.

Hearing him whimper my name sounds so fucking hot. It is my weakness..

A few minutes later, I clenched my pussy against his dick which made him let out a loud moan, he rubbed my clit faster, I let out the loudest moan I ever did and squirted.

Jungkook moaned and said " Yes, oh fuck. Y/n. "

He continued fucking me rougher along with rubbing my clit faster, we both cummed hard, he didn't stop fucking me until I squirt again for him, his name leaving my mouth, once I squirted again I saw stars and out of the sudden I passed out.

".. Y/n?.. hey.. y/n. " Jungkook patted my cheek " Y/n. "

" Hm? " I opened my eyes.

Jungkook let out a sigh with relief and said " You fucking scared me. "

He kissed my cheek multiple times, hugged me, kissed my temple and I said " What happened? "

" You passed out. I was calling your name and you didn't answer. You scared me. "

" I'm sorry. "

He kissed my cheek, pulled away and said " Get up for me. "

I got off his lap, laid down next to him, he showered me with kisses, looked at me and said " I guess that last squirt passed you out. "

I blushed, he moved my hair away from my face and said " Come on, let's give you a relaxing bath. "

I nod my head, he kissed my lips, I kissed him back, he pulled away, looked at me and said " Don't move, I'll be right back. "

" Okay. "

He got off the bed, walked over to the bed, I looked up at the ceiling, pressed my thighs together, and said lowly " Fuck, that was so good. "

I've never passed out after a squirt before, when I opened my eyes Jungkook looked at me worriedly. My thoughts got interrupted when Jungkook walked back to the room and called my name.

He walked over to the bed, caressed my cheek and said " The bath is ready, come on. "

Jungkook lift me up bridal style, walked to the bathroom, laid me down gently on the bathtub, I looked at him and said " Can you join me? "

" Sure. "

He got in behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, kissed my neck, pulled away, hugged me and said " You scared me baby. I'll be careful next time. "

I shook my head and said " You don't have to, I loved it. "

" You don't know how worried I was when you didn't wake up. * Kissed her temple * I'll be careful. "

He washed my body, gave me kisses here and there, telling me he loves me and how proud he was of me, making me feel special.

I love this man so much.

After our bath, we changed, he carried me to the bedroom, sat me down on the couch and said " Wait here while I clean up. "

" Okay. "

I watched as Jungkook cleaned, blushed at what we did on that bed, once he's done, he walked over to me, lift me up, walked out of the bedroom, I looked at him and said " Where are we going? "

" To another room. "

I didn't questioned him, when we got to the room, he laid me down on the bed, looked at me and said " Wait here. "

I nod my head, he walked away, came back with some ice cream, gave it to me, laid down next to me, we watched a movie as we ate the ice cream, he kissed my temple and said " Happy Valentines day baby. I love you. "

I looked at him, smiled and said " Happy Valentines day baby. I love you too. "

He leaned in, kissed my lips, I kissed him back, we pulled away and watched the movie in each other's arms.

( A/n: Don't be shy, like and comment! )

#bts #daddy k!nk #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook bts

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weirdgenetic-fuckup · 3 days ago

Note

somnophilia w izzy??

Warnings: smut, somnophilia, sex dreams, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

You and Izzy lived together, he was sweet and funny and he loved you. Every night he’d come home and you’d be in bed, reading or finishing something for work, occasionally he’d find you already asleep.

Whatever the case he had a routine; he’d crawl into bed with you and hold you, helping you to sleep. You’d curl up against him, whether that meant spooning or laying your head on his chest.

His arms would be around you, face buried in your hair or tucked into the crook of your neck. If you had a hard time sleeping he’d hum to you, muttering the lyrics to your favourite songs in a calming tone.

He’d rub your arms and sides, massaging your shoulders and hips. He was perfect to you, but it was all just leading up to what he wanted.

He got you to sleep and made sure you weren’t going to wake up, when he found out how heavy of a sleeper you were he knew he had to take advantage.

Izzy would start pushing your shorts down on the rare occasion you wore more than just a shirt of his and a pair of panties, all he wanted was your thighs.

He’d push his boxers down just enough to free his aching cock. With you laying on top of him he’d set your legs between his, forcing your thighs together, and he’d push himself between them.

Slowly he’d roll his hips up, leaky tip peeking above your ass. His thrusts would get faster, grinding against your ass. It was so warm, he’d grip your hips tightly, gently guiding you up and down.

His low groans would fall right onto your ears, fuelling your dreams. He’d get off to your little moans and whines, knowing you were dreaming about him.

Dreaming about him fucking you, thick cock filling you and stretching you out so good. The way he’d nip at your neck, leaving marks he loved to show off. They way he’d guide you when you rode him, clit rubbing his pelvis every time.

His groans would get louder, his movements faster and he squeezed your thighs tighter together, needing more friction.

“Fuck, I love you.” He groaned. “Feels so fucking good.” He squeezed your ass, struggling to hold himself back from spanking you. He loved how red you got, the squeals he pulled from you.

He loved when you acted up, all so he could punish you, bend you over his lap and make you count to twenty, thirty if you really acted up.

You whined, clinging to him tighter. You stretched out, clenching around his cock. He couldn’t take it anymore. He lifted your hips and thrusted into you, filling you nice and full, using his pre as lube.

He didn’t hesitate to fuck you rough as he always did. You slept through everything, clawing, marking, he was sure you’d sleep through this too.

“Izzy..?“ You mumbled, eyes fluttering open. You looked back, barely awake to see his hips bucking up into you. You rested your head back down, nuzzling into his neck. “You’re not doing it right, go harder…”

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leaderwon · 1 day ago

Text

VALENTINE'S DAY WITH SUNOO

Synopsis : Sunoo surprises you with a cozy, glow in the dark movie night that fills the evening with joy and endless giggles.

Warnings : kisses, so much cuteness omfg, mentions of food

Wc : 2.9k

masterlist

Valentine's Day had always been associated with grand gestures and fancy dinners, but Sunoo had a completely different idea in mind. When he sent you a playful text that read, “Get your comfiest pajamas ready, it’s going to be magical” you couldn’t help but smile in anticipation.

As the evening rolled around, you arrived at Sunoo’s place, greeted by the faint glow of string lights lining the living room. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, with the scent of buttery popcorn wafting through the air. Sunoo stood in the middle of the room, beaming with excitement, dressed in the cutest oversized hoodie.

“Welcome to the ultimate Valentine’s movie night” he declared, spreading his arms dramatically. You laughed, feeling your heart swell at the sight. “You really went all out, didn’t you?” “Only the best for you” he said with a wink.

The living room was transformed into a cozy haven. Plush blankets and pillows were scattered across the floor, and glow in the-dark stars were carefully placed on the ceiling. The lights dimmed slightly, allowing the stars to twinkle faintly above.

“This is amazing,” you whispered, taking it all in. Sunoo grinned. “Wait until you see the movie lineup. I handpicked all your favorites.”

He led you to the blanket covered floor, where a tray of snacks was artfully arranged. There were bowls of popcorn, candy, and even heart-shaped cookies.

“Did you bake these?” you asked, picking up a cookie. “Of course” he said proudly. “I might have eaten a few while baking, but that’s just quality control.” You giggled, feeling warmth spread through your chest. “You’re the best.”

As the first movie started, Sunoo pulled a blanket over both of you. His shoulder brushed against yours, and you leaned into him, savoring the closeness. The room was filled with the sound of the movie and occasional bursts of laughter.

Halfway through, Sunoo turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Want to play a game?” “What kind of game?” you asked, intrigued.

“Guess the next line,” he said. “Whoever gets it wrong has to eat a mystery snack.” You laughed. “That sounds chaotic, but I’m in.”

The game quickly turned competitive, with both of you dramatically guessing lines and reacting with exaggerated groans when you got them wrong. Sunoo’s laughter was infectious, filling the room with pure joy.

“How are you so good at this?” you asked after your fourth incorrect guess. “Talent” he said smugly. “Or you just watch these movies too much,” you teased.

As the final movie came to an end, you found yourself curled up against Sunoo, your heart full. The glow in the-dark stars above seemed to shimmer even brighter, as if they were celebrating the happiness of the night.

“Thank you for this” you said softly. “It’s been perfect.” Sunoo’s expression turned gentle. “You deserve perfect. Always.”

Your eyes met, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The world felt small and safe, filled only with the warmth of Sunoo’s presence.

As the night came to a close, you knew this Valentine’s Day would be one you’d never forget, not because of grand gestures, but because of the love and joy Sunoo had poured into every moment.

“Next year, same place?” you asked with a grin. Sunoo laughed. “Absolutely. But maybe I’ll let you win the game next time.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “We’ll see about that.”

Walking out with hearts full and endless giggles shared, you knew that nothing would ever beat a night filled with love and laughter under glowing stars.

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heylittleriotact · 2 days ago

Text

𝐢 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞

𝐄𝐦𝐦𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐱 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐅𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐀𝐔

𝐄𝐦𝐦𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤-𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐃𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤.

Here's an ao3 link because apparently we're still not auto-formatting

Two Weeks Later

Rook nibbled at her lip and sat up straighter to get a better view of the curb. Parking was a bit trickier on side streets once the windrows of melted and refrozen snow and ice started accumulating, but she managed to negotiate the uneven surface, pulling up alongside the curb and putting the car in park. “Am I good?”

Emmrich opened the passenger side door and glanced down. “Perfect - about five inches from the curb. Well done!” He closed the door and Rook set the parking brake, then cut the ignition.

“Thanks Emmrich - I really appreciate you letting me do this.”

For the past week he’d been letting Rook use his car after work to practice driving in preparation for attempting her road test. Practice, being the vital operative to their arrangement: Emmrich wasn’t actually teaching her anything, because as she had been brutally quick to point out when he initially floated this idea to her that: ‘I don’t need you to teach me anything: I already know how to fucking drive, Emmrich. I did the in-car lessons and everything when I was 17, I just never actually got around to doing my test.’

So ‘practice’ she did, and thankfully she hadn’t crashed his car yet.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, unable to keep the smile from his face: her long black hair fell in soft, shiny waves around her face and over her shoulders today, and she looked very pretty under the streetlights outside of her apartment.

“Good! I feel like I’m getting more confident each time, which is what I need, honestly. I think I should be ready to try my test soon - I’m thinking after Wintersend is a reasonable goal.”

Wintersend was five weeks out.

That meant at least five more weeks of practicing with Rook.

His heart leapt at the thought. There was no denying that he looked forward to their time together each day, and he genuinely missed it when they couldn’t get together due to one or both of them having days off, or an evening cropped up where he was scheduled on a visitation or prayer service.

He’d only managed to falsify excuses to avoid being alone with her for a week after Mrs. Gardner’s funeral. Only had it in him to come up with reasons why he couldn’t drive her home for a few days until finally he could no longer resist the self-serving appetite to be in her company, and resumed offering. On days he couldn’t drive her home, he always made a point of texting her to make sure she arrived safely, because again: any occasion in which he had a convenient reason to converse with her was a happy one.

She slipped off her seatbelt and put her hand on the door handle, pausing for a moment as if she wanted to say something, but clearly thinking better of it before opening the door and stepping out of the car.

Taking this as his cue to get back in the driver’s seat and head home for the night, Emmrich got out too, walking around the back of the car until he was on the driver’s side.

Rook hadn’t moved. She was just standing there, clutching the open door of his white Audi like she might fall if she let go.

“Rook?” He inched closer, concern piercing through the ever-present haze of infatuation that lingered in his head these days.

Her eyes drifted to her hand on the door, her face set in an uncharacteristic look of consternation before her gaze met his.

Then she let go of the door and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in her chest as she squeezed him tightly.

“Thanks,” she said, voice somewhat muffled as he attempted to come to grips with what was happening.

He was just about to return the unexpected embrace when she released him suddenly, parting from him only for a second before she stood on her tip-toes and pressed her lips to his - a quick, impulsive connection that made his stomach bottom out.

Then she was looking up at him again: she was tall, but he was taller than most people.

Her gray eyes that reminded him so much of the cleansing summer storms that rolled across the plains during the dog days of summer searched his, though she remained silent.

The dwindling warmth left by her lips on his punctuated the continuance of time as he stared at her, his mind reeling.

Her fingers curled around the knot of his tie, and the warmth returned when she dragged him down and crushed her mouth against his, her sweet soft tongue sweeping past his lips, brushing hungrily against his and tasting him with a desperation that caught him off guard.

His mind stopped reeling and immediately went blank instead. He leaned into the kiss, returning her enthusiasm, one arm snaking around her waist, the other slamming onto the roof of the car, bracing them both, as her hand relinquished his tie to palm the side of his face.

She wanted him. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her…

Their teeth bumped, and she kissed him harder, biting down gently on his lower lip before pulling away only enough to breathe, “I need you to fuck me, Emmrich.”

Certainly. He could absolutely acquiesce to that. His mind was all but consumed with sinful thoughts of fucking her lately: this would pose no inconvenience.

The journey from the car into the warm lobby of her apartment building was a blur, as was the time it took to climb the stairs to whichever floor she lived on. And then he was kissing her again, even as she closed and locked the door behind them, then dragged him down the hallway to the bedroom, leaving her coat in a heap on the floor, tugging his suit jacket from his shoulders and down his arms, discarding it with the same exhilarating carelessness.

Then there was a soft bed beneath them, their hands frantically wandering, squeezing, and groping as they undressed each other with little pretense or ceremony: his tie was loosened and yanked over his head before it vanished into the comforting dimness of her room. Her shirt was hauled up over the perfect tits he had been fixated on since the day she sent that cheeky photo to him, and he filled his hand with one, plunging under her dark blue bra while her fingers darted between the buttons of his waistcoat and his belt-buckle, seemingly unsure of which article of clothing she wished to do away with first.

She eventually seemed to settle on his pants, conquering the belt with his assistance, and slipping loose the button, then the zipper that were concealing his throbbing cock. She slipped him free from the confines of his underwear, stroking him with a keen urgency that made him buck into her hand as he undid her jeans with one hand and yanked them down over her ass along with her panties.

Not wanting another second to go by without being inside of her, he lined himself up and thrust into her sodden core, his hands finding her beautiful, tattooed wrists.

“Ohhhh - Emmrich… fuck!” She groaned, looking up from under him, her black hair splashed over the red sheets like it had been in that perfectly scandalous picture.

He claimed her lips once more, swallowing her moans as he took her with a instinctive hunger he did not know he was capable of - filling her tight, soft pussy; feeling every inch of her as she clenched and flexed around him before withdrawing and slamming back into her sopping heat, the lewd sounds of their frenzied tempo filling the room.

“You feel just as amazing as I… as I knew you would,” she panted, squirming against him and palming his ass with one hand, urging him deeper - harder. “You feel so fucking good,” she whined through clenched teeth, managing to wriggle free from her jeans and drawing her knees towards herself, opening further for him. “Fuck me hard, Emmrich - fuck me the way you’ve wanted to fuck me since you met me...”

He was about to do exactly that… but then his phone rang.

That awful, evil, damnable Marimba tone that in that exact moment made him feel positively murderous.

His eyes snapped open. The dream vanished.

The Marimba did not.

Disoriented, blinking into the darkness, he grasped for the phone on his nightstand, picking it up with an anguished groan.

‘Call-Center, McDermott & Rafferty’ said the name on the call display. The time in the upper left corner was 2:17.

He slid his thumb over the screen to answer the call and flipped his legs over the edge of the bed, the sheets still covering his leaking, rock hard cock. “Hello, this is Emmrich.” He put on his most professional voice - certainly not the cadence of one who was just dreaming about being balls deep in a coworker.

“Hey Emmrich,” came the familiar voice of the overnight receptionist, Jen. “Got a first call on the line. Vital stats are done. It’s for Mr. Phillip DeSouza - he passed away at Crystal Grace Hospital, we have permission to transfer him into our care, and his son, Gio is on the line and wants to talk to a funeral director.”

Emmrich took a deep, grounding breath he hoped that Jen couldn’t hear. “Thank you Jen, you can put him through.”

He took the call, answered Gio’s questions with the appropriate amount of compassion and kindness befitting someone who had just lost their father, booked an appointment to meet for arrangements the following morning, and put the phone down when he was done, drawing both hands over his face, raking his fingers through his sweaty, untamed hair as his cock continued to throb insistently, clearly not interested in calming down despite the early hour.

Sighing, he reached for the phone again, opened his messages and found the ongoing exchange he had with Rook.

The most recent messages were from earlier this evening. She had said ‘Thanks for the parallel parking brush-up - it’s fucking crazy to me that you can do that with a hearse no problem lol’. He had said ‘It’ll be second nature in no time’ and even dared to tack on a smiley-face.

He could probably text her now and get a reply: even when she wasn’t out on the town with her friends, she was a self-proclaimed night-owl and by her admission she rarely went to bed before three.

He tapped the message field and the keyboard popped up.

But what would he say? ‘Hello Rook, I just took a call from a family with a raging hard-on because I was in the middle of an exceptionally vivid dream of having sex with you when the phone rang. How is your evening going?’

Hardly palatable late-night conversation between professionals…

He tapped out of the message and scrolled up and up and up until he found the picture she’d sent him: he couldn’t bring himself to save it to his device. If he did that it would be admitting something he wasn’t yet ready to admit.

There she was, crash-landed on the dark red pillow like she had been in his dream. Snarling up at him defiantly - daring him… taunting him as if this static image of her from weeks earlier knew exactly what he had been dreaming about minutes earlier.

He grasped his cock and imagined her pale fingers around him instead of his own. Lost himself in the quirk of her plump lips and the delectable fantasy of them wrapped around him; her perfectly white teeth scraping gently up his shaft before she took him until he hit the back of her tight throat.

It was far from the first time he’d jerked off to this particular photo, and it was unlikely to be the last at this rate.

Breathing heavily into the darkness he worked his cock feverishly, giving himself over completely to the image of Rook and the intoxicating hold she had on him.

His balls tightened, pressure reaching its breaking point deep within, and with a shuddering gasp he spilled into his hand, feeling the heat of his cum as it dripped onto the sheets and ran down between his legs, moaning softly as his movements slowed and then finally ceased.

Down the hallway he could hear the telltale warble of Manfred, followed shortly by rhythmic wheezing and a wet ‘splat’ as the cat ejected a surely massive hairball onto the floor.

His timing was as impeccable as ever.

“-So instead of spending your break or your lunch scrolling through your phones, we’d really like to see you socialize: talk to each other.”

Rook had to actively force herself not to roll her eyes at the ludicrous imposition put forth by Derek: the audacity it took to think that he had the authority to tell any of them what to do with their time during their unpaid breaks was astounding.

Asshole.

Why was it that every Derek she’d ever met (only two, to be fair) turned out to be a massive prick?

She felt the tingle of someone’s eyes on her, and Rook stopped regarding Derek with an expression of subtle disgust to look across the huge lunch room table, meeting Emmrich’s gaze in time to see the corner of his mouth curve slightly upwards.

He looked tired: the dark circles around his eyes were darker than usual. He must not have slept well, she decided, though despite that he looked as put-together and handsome as always.

Her heart skipped in her chest, and whatever Derek was droning on about at the weekly staff meeting no longer mattered.

Did he have any idea? The slightest inkling of what that sweet, clever smile did to her?

She’d basically resigned herself at this point to the fact that she was smitten with Emmrich: she was no stranger to infatuation and the ferocity with which it would blow into her heart, ravaging her carefully crafted barriers and walls, laying waste to her various doubts and reservations until all that remained was a burning fixation - an all-encompassing curiosity that begged to be satisfied until she either bent to its will, or waited for it to run its course, letting it burn itself out until it was little more than smoldering ash.

In this case, she’d just have to be content with the excuse of driving practice to scratch the itch until the urge to shove her tongue down Emmrich’s throat subsided in a month or two, and she could get back to fantasizing about someone else - a celebrity or something - when she got herself off.

How many times had she wanted to test the waters? See if he would be interested in more than letting her drive his car?

How many times had she talked herself out of it because there was no way someone like him would be into a train-wreck like her?

Oooh, but she did rather like imagining him smiling like that at her from between her thighs…

Fuck…

Her panties practically flooded at the very thought.

“Does anyone have anything else to add?” Derek looked around the table, finally finished outlining his grand vision in which they were all best pals as well as colleagues. God she hated his stupid pink face and his stupid haircut that was identical to his father’s, except it was blonde instead of white.

“The RSVP deadline for the annual Wintersend Dinner is this Friday - if you haven’t already, please respond to the invitation that would have been sent to your personal email address and let us know if you plan to attend, and if you’re bringing a guest.” Myrna, making a rare appearance outside of the chapel in the south end of the city that she managed, tapped the end of her pen on the table as she spoke, looking about as interested in the prospect of the Wintersend party as she sounded. “It’s at a new venue this year, so you don’t want to miss it.”

She looked like she wanted to miss it.

Before she’d gone on maternity leave, Tessa had told Rook that the party the year before was a mess: the venue ran out of food and over a third of the staff in attendance either didn’t get dinner at all, or they got a very small portion. The only silver-lining to the night was that Tom Rafferty got especially into his cups and was buying drinks for anyone who so much as said ‘Happy Wintersend’ to him.

Rook was still on the fence about going: she didn’t have anyone to bring with her, and she’d been to enough work parties over the years to know that she had little interest in getting drunk with or around the people she worked with.

They didn’t need to know that side of her.

She didn’t need to know that side of them.

“Thanks Myrna,” Derek said, “I think that’s everything. Have a good week, everyone.”

Rook pushed her chair back from the table and stood, picking up her coffee, ready to file out of the lunchroom with everyone else.

“Rook.”

She turned to see Derek pushing in his own chair, his pudgy, well-moisturized hands without a single callus on them gripped the back of it. “I need to speak with you. Meet me in the clergy office in five minutes, please.” There was no depth in the expression on his face: no genuine emotion on it. It was empty and unreadable like something that had been soullessly rendered by AI.

Emmrich, having overheard this as he passed behind Derek, frowned at Rook from behind the future-owner. She shrugged one shoulder slightly to indicate she was just as confused as he was.

“Uh… yeah, of course,” she said, mind racing to try and figure out why the hell Derek would want to speak with her. Was she getting fired? Had a family finally complained about her? Had it been brought to management’s attention that Rook was actually a cantankerous cold bitch, and a terrible, terrible fit for a career that required patience, kindness, and the ability to pretend you weren’t fucking annoyed constantly?

She slipped out of the lunch room, joining Emmrich as he climbed the stairs to the main level.

“What does Derek want with you?” He asked. Ascending the narrow stairwell together put them in close proximity to one another, and Rook couldn’t help but notice how good he smelled today: grounded and earthy, like wet cedar and oakmoss.

“I have no idea, but I get the feeling it isn’t good,” she admitted, trying not to let nerves get the better of her: she’d tried so hard over the past four and a half months to be perfect. She still had a month and a half left of probation, and they could let her go for any reason until that six months was up…

Emmrich let her pass through the door at the top of the stairs first. He squeezed her shoulder comfortingly - such a small gesture, but one that made her stomach do backflips. “Try not to worry,” he said quietly so no one else in the hallway could hear. “I’m sure it will be fine.”

Rook nodded, wanting to believe him. She couldn’t make her voice work, so she just nodded some more and then made her way to the clergy office, one door over from the main admin office.

She sat down at the desk and resisted the urge to screw around on her phone till Derek showed up: if he wandered into the office and found her on her phone, he’d flip his shit.

Thankfully she didn’t have to wait long: Derek appeared in short order, closing the door behind him and sitting across from Rook, holding a pen and a sheet of paper - a termination letter?

Rook’s mouth felt dry.

“Sorry for interrupting your morning,” Derek began, folding his hands over the paper on the desk so she couldn’t make out what it said. “I won’t keep you long, Rook. I just wanted to chat with you about an urn you sold last week - the cloisonné for Mrs. Strickland?”

Rook felt herself frown. “Uh… okay.”

“Let’s start with you walking me through exactly what your process was when you ordered the urn for her.”

“I don’t understand,” Rook said, her ears heating up. “Was there some sort of problem?”

“If you could just start with your process, please,” Derek insisted, his face the same placid expression of absolute nothingness as always - it was like it was supposed to be friendly and assuring, but it missed the mark completely and was just fucking creepy instead. This dude literally was the perfect image of the stereotypically creepy funeral director.

“I… I… she came in - Mrs. Strickland - last week and said she wanted to buy a keepsake urn for a portion of her husband’s cremated remains,” Rook began, still completely at a loss, but taking care not to sound defensive or nervous. “I took her up to the selection room and showed her the urn catalogue as well as some of the actual samples we have up there. She was quite indecisive, but was especially drawn to the cloisonné urns - she just didn’t know which colour she liked more. I spent the better part of an hour with her, listening to her thoughts on the different colours as she weighed her choices, making suggestions or offering my opinion when she asked for it.

“She wound up settling on the blue butterfly cloisonné because her husband had some sort of deep spiritual connection to the colour blue or something.”

It had taken forever to get her to pick an urn, and Mrs. Strickland had that rich-bitch, Karen energy about her that implied that Rook should be thanking her lucky stars that she was so blessed to be the one helping the widow with this magnanimous undertaking. Honestly, she was awful to deal with, but Rook could at least try to chalk that up to grief and not a consistent personality trait.

“I brought the urn with me and took her to this exact office, actually, to finalize the purchase and take payment. Once that was done, I gave her a copy of the receipt, the urn catalogue, and then updated Mr. Strickland’s file with the purchase so I could email the arranging director and have them order the urn.”

“And you specifically meant to select the blue butterfly on the dropdown list in the file?” Derek inquired.

Yeah… that’s what I fucking said, right? I’m fucking sick of this dick jerking me around.

“Yes.”

Derek sighed and fidgeted with the pen in his hand. “Listen, Rook - you ordered the wrong urn. When Mrs. Strickland came back to pick it up, she said she’d actually ordered the brown butterfly cloisonné, and since Mr. Strickland’s remains were already placed in the blue one, we’ve had to charge it back to the yearly bonus because as you know, we don’t resell used merchandise.”

“What?!” Rook’s voice rose incredulously. “But I’m sure she wanted the blue one - I said the words ‘blue butterfly’ no less than thirty times - I even had it sitting here on the desk when she paid for it!”

“Sometimes we mishear or misunderstand when families ask us something,” Derek said in his sage, holier-than-thou tone that implied he’d pursued his solemn calling as a death-professional with stalwart passion his entire life, rather than fucking off years earlier and fooling around as an investment banker until he lost everything came crawling back to daddy and his business. “Which is why we’ve got to be really careful when we’re assisting them with these important and meaningful decisions: they might not seem like a big deal to you, but they’re huge to them - that woman just lost her husband.”

Her heart pounded in her ears as she reined in the desire to tell Derek where he could shove his arrogant, condescending bullshit.

“Perhaps you clicked the wrong urn on the dropdown menu and meant to click the brown one?” He suggested. He was trying to give her an out: a way to excuse the mistake that would reduce it to a careless mis-click rather than a blatant overlooking of a family’s wishes.

“I clicked the blue butterfly cloisonné and had it ordered because that’s what Mrs. Strickland told me she wanted,” she asserted, unwilling to admit to something she didn’t do - even if it might save her ass. “Perhaps she was confused and forgot that she ordered the blue one - I can only imagine she’s going through a lot right now.”

Derek’s lips pressed into a thin and rather disapproving line. “We can’t blame families for our own mistakes, Rook. That’s not fair.”

I didn’t make a fucking mistake, you asshat! That broad forgot which urn she ordered, and rather than admitting that, doubled down and insisted that we fucked up!

“I can tell you’re upset about this - that’s good. It means you won’t forget the lesson to be learned from it. You’re a great employee, and you do good work, Rook - we’re thrilled to have you on the team, but just try to be a little bit more attentive when you’re ordering merchandise for families, okay?”

Fuck you, man.

He slid the piece of paper and the pen across the desk to Rook.

McDermott & Rafferty - Chargeback Form, said the header at the top.

“This just outlines what we’ve talked about today, what you’ll do to avoid it in the future, and indicates the cost of the urn, which will be taken out of the shared company bonus.”

$210. Son of a bitch.

She didn’t want to sign it. Didn’t want to put her name on it because if she did, it meant that she was agreeing that this was her fault and she’d done something wrong when she knew she hadn’t.

But… she didn’t have a choice.

She scribbled her signature on the bottom of the form and slid it back to Derek. “Can you please email me a copy of that?” She asked, keeping her voice amiable and professional. She’d learned the importance of keeping a paper-trail the last time she’d been unceremoniously canned from a job.

“You bet.” Derek said, signing off on the form as well. “Try not to take it too hard, Rook - we all make mistakes.” He set the pen down - oh lovely, he wanted to talk more. “Are you planning on attending the Wintersend party?”

Her eyes meandered over the platinum wedding band on his left hand, and she immediately felt uneasy with the direction of this conversation.

“Haven’t decided yet. Maybe,” she said shortly, reverting to her defensive, guarded way of interacting with men she didn’t trust.

“Since it’s your first year with us, we’d love to see you there.”

We, he said, like there would be some sort of committee of McDermott & Rafferty employees eagerly wringing their hands the night of the party, hoping she’d make an appearance.

“Yeah if I’m not busy that night, maybe,” she said again, standing up. “Am I free to go now? There are arrangements starting any minute that I need to help with.”

“Of course, Rook.” Derek stayed seated, but she breezed past him towards the door anyway. “Have a good day.”

“I’m driving us to a bar,” she announced hours later, looking over her shoulder and backing out of Emmrich’s parking space. “You can choose to leave me there and I’ll find my own way home after I’ve had a fucking well-deserved drink, or you can stay and have a well-deserved drink with me.”

She’d been in a mood for the rest of the day after her chat with Derek. Emmrich hadn’t needed to inquire what it was about: she’d texted him as soon as she was done and told him about the nightmare with the urn.

He felt for her: as far as chargebacks went, it was a particularly lazy one. Eating the cost of the urn wouldn’t have blown the bottom line of the business, and doing so would have avoided planting the seed of distrust in Rook’s mind that would almost surely take root and grow wild in time after more and more microaggressions and petty implications that she wasn’t good at her job: He’d seen it enough times in nearly thirty years.

“I’ll have a drink with you,” he said. “But you won’t be getting back behind the wheel this evening.”

Rook’s learner’s license had a zero tolerance for alcohol condition.

“Fine,” she said, keeping her eyes on the road as they exited the parking lot and she navigated towards her side of town.

The bar was a hole in the wall: a locally owned little place called Ray’s that occupied a spot in an old strip mall in between 7-11 and an adult store. The neon sign was half burnt out, and one of the windows had a large crack spider webbing across it from a central impact point as if someone had kicked or punched it.

Not really the sort of place Emmrich regularly found himself, but he was hardly one to judge.

“Just a moment, please,” he said when Rook went to get out of the car. He shrugged out of his suit jacket and loosened his tie pulling it up over his head and folding it carefully before depositing it in the glove compartment. Then he put his jacket in the back seat, very aware of how close the twist and stretch put him to Rook, who he noticed smelled like apples and magnolia and the freshly baked cookies that they served to families at arrangements.

He undid the top button of his shirt and said, “There we are - now we can carry on perpetuating the notion that funeral professionals cease to exist outside the walls of the funeral home, or the boundaries of the cemetery.”

Staff of McDermott & Rafferty were not to be seen in places like bars with their uniforms or name tags on. They were not to take or distribute photographs of themselves in their uniforms either: the business was fiercely protective of the reputation of their brand, and Emmrich was aware of at least half a dozen staff over the past decade who had been fired without question for breaking that particular rule. Of course, all of them would have gotten away with their crimes if someone they worked with who didn’t like them for one reason or another hadn’t seen their social media postings and immediately ratted them out to management. Trusting people in this line of work was nothing short of a gamble, no matter how nice they seemed, hence why Emmrich didn’t have - nor would he ever have - a ‘Facebook’ or an ‘Instagram’.

The smell of bleach and stale beer hit his nose as soon as they got inside, and Emmrich followed Rook to a booth along the far wall: wood panelled, with mirrors spanning the wall above it. This place looked like it was untouched by time, frozen somewhere in the late 70s.

Sitting across from Rook, he rolled up his sleeves and ordered a pint of whatever she was having from the server who approached them.

He listened to her go off about her conversation with Derek, hands waving through the air, pausing occasionally to take a long drink from the rather skunky lager in front of her, while he occasionally sipped from his own.

It’s nice to be able to offer a supportive ear to a colleague, he told himself as he silently marvelled at the colour of her eyes, the shape of her delicate, feminine fingers; and the way she filled out the Misfits t-shirt she was wearing.

Having taken her winter coat off when they got inside, he’d never seen so much of her arms, and he was fascinated by the sheer variety and clarity of the tattoos now visible: a swallow, a red rose, a Zippo lighter, a coffin, and a dagger through an anatomically correct heart were only a few of. He was of the mind that he could stare at them for hours.

“- and honestly I wouldn’t be so stuck on this if it weren’t for the fact that I don’t know what I could have done differently to avoid it,” she said, pausing to take a breath. “I have no problem with admitting when I’ve fucked something up, and I’m happy to do things differently in the future to avoid it happening again, but like… what can I learn from this? What, am I supposed to… to like make families sign off on their purchases to confirm and verify that we’re on the same page? That seems shitty: people will think I don’t trust them!” She took another drink and set her pint glass down a bit harder than she needed to. “I need a smoke,” she muttered, sliding out of the booth and grabbing her coat and swiping a pack of smokes from the front pocket of her backpack. “I’ll be right back.”

Emmrich was already on his feet. “I’ll come with you.”

“Oh you don’t have to - it’s cold out and you’re not wearing a jacket. Don’t worry - I’ll be fine on my own for five minutes.”

“I was actually going to ask if I could impose myself upon you and bum one.”

Rook looked from the pack of cigarettes in her hand to Emmrich, then back again, looking delightfully bemused.

“I’m sorry - you smoke?”

“I’ve been known to partake from time to time - not habitually of course, but as more of a social experience.”

“Uh… okay. I am legitimately shocked.”

He laughed, unable to help himself, and held the door for her. “Why?”

“Because you’re so… proper and… good.” She slid two smokes from the pack and put them between her lips, lighting them both and handing him one.

“And good people can’t indulge in the occasional enjoyment of a harmless vice?” He quirked an eyebrow and took a drag, savoring the powdery, artificial taste of her lipstick on the filter.

“Smoking kills,” she quoted.

“Everything kills, eventually.”

“Touché,” she shrugged, shoving her free hand in the pocket of her coat. “Sorry for sitting around ranting this whole time - I know it’s a downer, but I’m really pissed off about that chargeback.” She puffed on her smoke and ground the toe of her boot into some snow. “Are you gonna go to the Wintersend party?” She changed topics abruptly.

“I usually do.”

“Does it suck as much as everyone says it does?”

He chuckled again. “It’s not all that bad when there’s enough food to go around. Were you planning to go?”

“Dunno.” She stubbed her smoke out against the metal ashtray fastened to the brick wall, clearly too cold to linger outside long enough to smoke the cigarette down to the sponge. “Are you bringing a ‘guest’?”

What an interesting question.

He extinguished his own smoke and dumped the butt inside the ashtray, “I wasn’t planning on it. Are you?”

“I never said I was going,” she smirked, ducking under his arm to pass through the door, back into the heat of the bar.

She got back to the booth and slipped out of her coat as Emmrich sat back down. When she went to hang it from the hook at the top of the booth, a wayward sleeve caught her pint glass which was still roughly a third full, causing it to wobble, then tip over.

“Shit!” She exclaimed, watching as what was left of her beer dripped off the edge of the table onto the vinyl seat of the booth on her side. “Typical,” she sighed. “And they didn’t give us any napkins. Oh well.”

Emmrich didn’t have any time to question her - she just shook her head and slid into the booth alongside him. Their thighs brushed and he nearly leapt out of his skin as she sidled up next to him innocently.

“Rook, what are you—?” He stammered.

She righted her glass and dragged the laminated drink menu over the table towards herself. “Hm? Oh, I’ll get the server to bring a rag when she comes back to take our order - I’m assuming you’ll have another one?”

He wasn’t sure what to do with himself, truth be told: he certainly was not in the habit of going out for drinks after work with colleagues - especially not ones half his age. To say he was out of his element was an understatement, but the lascivious details of his dream the night before kept intruding on his train of thought, and now Rook was sitting right next to him…

“I really like you, Emmrich,” she said, looking sidelong at him, her voice taking on an uncharacteristic softness.

“Thank you - I like you too, Rook,” he responded cheerfully, and for some reason, Rook sighed heavily, put her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands.

He thought he heard her mutter, “Holy fuck,” but he couldn’t be sure.

They each had one more drink, then Emmrich drove Rook home. She was quieter than she had been all evening, and she looked distracted and worried on the ride home - he chalked it up to the weight of a stressful day, and was sure to tell her to try to have a relaxing rest of her evening when he dropped her off.

Bad days happened to everyone, but there was no denying that in this profession they tended to hit harder and sting a bit more than they did for most other people.

He set down the book he’d been reading in bed for the past hour when his phone buzzed. Picking it up, he saw it was a message from Rook, and his stomach immediately leapt at the sight of it. He really loved hearing from her - he was quite taken with her, as inappropriate as it was, but— oh.

He’d opened the message and was now staring - bug-eyed, his mouth slightly agape - at the screen, and the image of Rook on it.

The other picture she’d sent him was an innocent moment of drunk impulse. This was something altogether different… and unmistakably deliberate.

She was posing in front of a mirror, holding the phone up to her reflection, wearing a snug gray chemise trimmed with light pink lace. Her long, thoroughly inked legs were visible right up to the hem of the chemise, which was very short. The flimsy material of the garment made it clear that her hard, perky nipples were pierced and her free hand was splayed sensually over her hip as she pushed out her chest, emphasizing her narrow waist and the luscious curve of her hips.

‘Thanks for listening to me vent today. I feel much better now - Rook, xoxo 😘♥️’

What…? Surely this was meant for someone else…

It was bad enough when he was just drooling over her like a depressed, unmarried, middle-aged man, but unless he was completely mistaken and way off base, this new photo and the message that came with it seemed to indicate some sort of romantic interest - or physical attraction to the recipient at the very least.

“I really like you, Emmrich,” she had said at the bar.

Emmrich’s blood went cold and he couldn’t tear his eyes from the photo and the suggestive little smile on her crimson lips.

No wonder she looked like she wanted to cry when he responded like the oblivious fool he was.

But if she… if I…

What do I do?

The right thing would be to politely inform her that this wasn’t appropriate, and he’d appreciate it if she refrained from sending him any more pictures of herself.

But Emmrich Volkarin had done the right thing for his entire life, and in his mind that more than made up for the words he tapped out in response.

‘You are beautiful.’

His cheeks heated, his stomach roiled on itself and his hands went clammy as the three bouncing harbingers of an imminent response popped up.

‘I’m off tomorrow… do you wanna come over?’

He nearly vibrated out of his skeleton as adrenaline shot through him at those words and the blatant meaning behind them: she wasn’t asking him over at this hour for a friendly chat.

He could just stop.

He could just not reply at all, put his phone down, and go bitterly masturbate in the shower like a mature human being, knowing that getting tangled up with someone - a colleague - of Rook’s age was begging for trouble - not to mention a potential danger to his professional career and reputation.

Knowing that it was unfair to take advantage of someone as youthful and full of potential as she was in order to stroke his own aging ego and soothe the cruelty of his own inadequacies.

Knowing that if he went through with this, he was almost guaranteed to regret it.

Instead, he typed out: ‘See you soon.’

He hit send and got out of bed, unable to stop his hands from shaking as he dressed himself in a hurry in a cashmere sweater and chinos.

He felt strangely disoriented as he beseeched Manfred to please not get into anything while he was away. Felt like he was dreaming again, even though he knew he was not as he threw on his peacoat and grabbed his keys before setting the alarm system and vanishing into the garage, unable to get the image of Rook’s incredible body from his mind.

“I really like you, Emmrich.”

#emmrook #emmrich x rook #emmrich romance #emmrich smut #modern au #funeral home au #dragon age #datv #dragon age the veilguard #rook is an edgy mall goth #emmrich volkarin #dragon age emmrich #emmrich the necromancer #this is an emmrich thirst post #dragon age fan fiction #da fic #dragon age fic #v writes #ao3

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chippedshake · 3 days ago

Text

My gift for @an-akward-ace as part of the gift exchange :))

@outsiders-gift-exchanges

“Mama?” Darry asks as he creeps out of the hallway and into the living room. Mama’s on the couch, feet tucked underneath her, book in her hands. She looks up and worry crawls onto her face.

“Darry? What’s wrong?”

He walks up to the couch tentatively and sits down next to her. “Am I a bad person?”

“What?” Mama closes her book and puts it on the couch armrest. “Why would you think that?”

“Sometimes— sometimes I think I don’t…” He looks at her guiltily for a moment before looking away. “Sometimes I think Ponyboy doesn’t love me.”

“Honey,” Mama murmurs, putting her hand on Darry’s shoulder, “Why would you say that?”

“I don’t—” Darry looks down again. “I don’t know. When I told him to go away because I wanted to play with Mark and Andrew he started crying and wouldn’t talk to me for a week. An’ he gets way more mad at me than at Soda but I’m a lot less annoying than Soda.”

Mama runs her hand through Darry’s hair and he curls up against her, just young enough to not be embarrassed. “Oh, Darry, that don’t mean he don’t love you. It just means he gets cranky sometimes. Maybe y’all mess up sometimes, but that don’t mean nothin’. Everyone does.”

She pauses for a moment.

“You ever notice that sometimes we’re all real quiet at dinner and Pa an’ me won’t look at each other?” Darry nods slowly. “Love ain’t perfect, and it ain’t about wantin’ to be with someone all the time, or never gettin’ mad. Only place you’ll see that is in the movies.”

Darry nods again, but doesn’t answer.

“Say— weren’t you reading Ponyboy a story before he went to sleep?”

Darry looks up at her and nods. “We’ve read it a bunch before but he never wants ta read anything else.”

“Does anyone else ever read it to him?”

“The story?” Mama nods. “No. Says he only likes how I read it. But it’s just ‘cause I do more voices than you.”

“How ‘bout walking home from school? Pa could go pick him up in the car, wouldn’t that be faster?”

“Yeah…” Darry’s not quite sure where this is going. “But that way he knows what the city’s like and doesn’t get lost when he’s older and stuff.”

“Right. What about how Ponyboy asked for a football for his birthday even though he’d been talking about that colouring book for months? What about how he won’t go to sleep without a ‘Darry hug’ because he says it’s better than other hugs?”

Darry doesn’t know what to say so he looks down at his hands.

“Love ain’t perfect, honey. You don’t always wanna be with someone and sometimes you’re gonna get mad and, Dar,—” He looks up at her “ — that’s fine. Love’s in the little things that add up, and yeah, sometimes something’s gonna subtract some, but that don’t take away from all of what you’ve built.”

…

Darry steps into the house with a loud sigh.

No one’s around to hear it.

He can’t be bothered to take his boots off, no matter how much he dreads having to clean the house afterwards, because it’s just grabbing the grocery list and taking off again.

Just grabbing the gro— oh, shit. Where is it?

A groan starts poking its way out of Darry’s chest.

Why him? Why now? Why at the end of the work day, when the only thing keeping him standing is the thought of a bath once he gets back?

He looks around the same place again, hoping the bright yellow sticky note somehow flew under his radar.

It didn’t.

In a couple cabinets, on the floor, inside drawers— by the time Darry’s looked through the whole kitchen, he’s shuffled around so much the floor’s covered with dirt. Because his shoes are still on. Because it was supposed to be quick. Because the list was supposed to be right there and it’s actually a tiny thing and he can probably remember everything anyways but the list needed to be there and he doesn’t have the stupid list and he just want to sleep but he need to make dinner and where the fuck is that list—

“Oh, hey, Darry!” Soda walks in and holds the door for Steve, who comes in behind him. Both their arms are full of groceries.

Everything that was on the list.

“Thought we’d get ahead on groceries since your shift’s longer’n normal today.”

Steve doesn’t add anything, but grunts in Darry’s general direction, so he gathers it’s a form of greeting.

“Oh,” Darry says, trying to keep his voice calm and hide the fact that he was about to break down because of something as stupid as not finding a sticky note. “How much was it?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Steve says, setting his bag down at the kitchen table. “Old man kicked me out again last week. S’on him.”

…

“Hey, Darry?” Darry stops and turns around from where he was heading towards the kitchen.

“Yeah, Pone?”

“Can you stand there for a second and put your hands behind your back?”

Darry stares at him, confused, before doing as he asks.

“And tilt your head a bit to the right— wait, no, my right, your left.”

A couple moments go by. Ponyboy’s scribbling something in his notebook, looking up at Darry and back down quickly.

“Can I move now?”

“Just one more second…” He erases something, draws it again, and holds his notebook up next to Darry. “Okay, thanks.”

Darry heads towards him. “Can I see it?”

Ponyboy covers his notebook hurriedly. “When it’s finished.”

“Okay, okay.” Darry holds his hands up in mock innocence.

…

Darry tries not to worry too much about Ponyboy. Their parents were never very controlling, and generally any of them could leave for hours without facing too much questioning.

He tries not to, but the problem is that Ponyboy never thinks, no matter how much Darry tries to get him to. He’d mouth off to a Soc because he just didn’t notice they had a knife, or walk home all alone at night without realising he was holding a neon sign that said “jump me”. Honestly, even being run over because he didn’t bother to look both ways is an option at this point.

“We didn’t get into any trouble,” Johnny says. Darry blinks at him. Pony and Johnny have just come back from the drive-in — they went alone this week — and Ponyboy’s gone to his room to get something to show Johnny, who’s wandered into the kitchen to talk to Darry.

The last time the two of them talked alone must be at least a year ago.

“Weren’t even any Socs nearby. All in their cars.”

And without another word, Johnny walks out of the kitchen as Ponyboy comes storming back into the living room.

…

“Kicked out again?”

“Got mad at me for bein’ away too much and decided to kick me out.”

“Huh.”

“I saw y’all didn't have any tomatoes so I picked some up on the way. Got a discount, too.”

“Yeah?”

Steve wiggles his fingers. “Five finger discount.”

…

Darrel Shaynne Curtis is defying all the laws of physics and biology because he is utterly dead inside and yet somehow still walking. If he has to take another step his joints will fall apart like rusty gears on an old clock.

And for some reason his house has to be full of fucking people.

People he loves, but people nonetheless.

Annoying people. Loud people. People who apparently do not know the definition of shutting the fuck up.

No amount of affection for the gang can stop Darry from crossing the line into homicidal if one more person screams across the room for something completely unnecessary.

“Hey, Superman.” Dally says with a light smirk as he sinks into the couch next to Darry.

Darry looks up and nods.

“How ya doin’?” Now here’s the part where Darry’s supposed to say “meh” or “as good as I can be, I guess” or something along those lines. Or he should at least shrug.

All of that requires energy, though, energy that Darry does not have, so he just hums.

“Yeah, I get that.”

Dally stays next to him, quiet and thoughtful for a moment.

“Hey, y’all wanna go to the drag races?”

Dally’s question is met with a chorus of whoops that make Darry’s head throb, and in a matter of minutes, the whole gang’s out the door.

Dallas walks out the door, then strays back in just before the door closes. He turns the lights off and Darry sighs in relief, the pressure finally gone from his eyes.

He stops again just before stepping out the door and turns back towards Darry.

“There’s still some cake left in the freezer, I saved ya a couple slices of bread, and Two-Bit left a bit of peanut butter in the jar.”

Darry musters a soft “thanks”, and Dally nods.

The door closes with a soft click.

…

“Darry!” Darry raises his eyebrows. He’s just closed the door behind him, work boots still on, and Ponyboy’s running towards him with a grin on his face.

“Why’re you so happy to see me?”

“I finished it!” Darry blinks at him once. Twice.

“What’d you finish?”

“The drawing!”

Ponyboy holds out his notebook, and right there, in the middle of the page, is Darry. He’s made the kitchen doorway vaguely in the background, but it’s in black and white while Darry is in colour.

And it’s— well, it’s impressive to say the least. Darry knew that Ponyboy liked to draw — always had his notebook out when he got bored of talking to people, sketching something he wouldn’t let anyone see —, but he didn’t know he could draw well. He always assumed it was like when he used to draw as a kid, only he didn’t want to show them anymore.

“This is…” Darry can’t seem to finish the sentence. He looks up and meets Pony’s eyes. “You made it?” Ponyboy nods, excited. “I— Can you show me whenever you draw stuff? In the future?”

Ponyboy’s eyes seem to almost glow. “Yeah, sure.”

…

“Ponyboy’s gonna tell you he fell down the stairs today, but Justin Lawson pushed him.” Johnny hesitates for a second. “Second one in the phone book, the first one’s a priest.”

“Right. Thanks.”

…

“How’d ya know I wanted to be alone?”

Dallas cocks an eyebrow. “You ain’t the first.”

…

“Hey, Superman,” Two-Bit says with a grin as he pointedly closes the door behind him.

“Hey, Two.” The smile that comes with the greeting is second nature, but Darry’s not entirely sure whether that’s from genuine happiness or getting used to pretending he’s okay.

“How’s it goin’?” He pulls out a chair and sits down in it backwards, arms resting on the backrest.

Darry sighs with a sarcastic smile, gesturing at the pile of bills in front of him.

“It that time again?”

“Was that time last week.”

Two-Bit whistles low. “You got enough?”

“Hope so.”

“Well, if you ain’t… I don’t got money I can give you. Sure someone’s got some, though.” He starts looking around, as if he would find someone to jump for money inside the Curtises' house.

“It’s fine, Two. Don’t worry about it.” Maybe Darry’s smile is wearing a bit thin or the exhaustion is clear on his face, because Two-Bit drops it.

“Alright.” He looks down, dejected, before lighting up again and looking at Darry, all excited again. “Guess what I found at the store today?”

Darry just raises his eyebrows — a form of rebellion, at this point, considering how the whole gang’s started copying Two-Bit and raising just the one — and tilts his head.

Two-Bit pulls a plastic bag out from behind his chair — how it got there, don’t ask Darry — and grins at Darry. “Lookit what I got.”

It’s a bag of Lay’s, something Darry and Two-Bit had worked together to swipe dozens of times to fuel Darry’s unhealthy obsession, only —

“They make ‘em in barbecue now. Figured we might as well try ‘em out.”

“Yeah?” Darry grins, and this time it’s genuine.

Before he can get another word out, Two-Bit’s fist comes flying down onto the bag and makes a sound so loud that if he weren’t watching it happen, Darry’d think a gun had fired.

At least five chips have gone flying, slamming against the wall, and Darry just knows it’s going to be an absolute pain to clean up.

Then he makes eye contact with Two-Bit and they burst into uncontrollable, stupid laughter. It’s only once they sober up after a couple minutes that Darry realises just how long it’s been since he’s laughed like that.

…

“What’re you drawing?”

Ponyboy moves aside to show him it.

“Oh.”

“Don’t wanna forget him.”

…

“I was talkin’ ta Susie the other day an’ she told me there’s this girl in her class that’ll draw ya stuff if ya pay her, and she cost me extra ‘cause she was scared of her mama findin’ out, but tell me this ain’t worth every penny!”

…

“I hate you!” Ponyboy screams as he storms off into his room. Darry just stares after him, frozen in place.

He doesn’t mean it he doesn’t mean it he doesn’t mean it—

But what if he does?

Love’s in the little things, the little things that add up—

But this feels too big, it’s too much to be just a little setback. Because the little things add up but they also subtract and if you put enough of them together—

There’s a soft knock on the door. Darry sits up from where he’d been in starfish position.

“Yeah?”

The door slowly creaks open. A small figure stands behind it.

“Darry?” Ponyboy stands in the doorway, grabbing onto the frame and avoiding eye contact.

“Yeah?”

“Can I come in?”

Darry crosses his legs and sits up straighter, fully waking up. “Yeah, sure, baby.”

Ponyboy walks in and sits on the edge of Darry’s bed, looking down at the sheets instead of at him.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, tugging at the ends of his hair. It’s getting too long, but he refuses to cut the bleach out of it and Darry doesn’t have it in him to force him to.

“It’s fine,” Darry says on instinct.

“No, it— it really ain’t. We’re not supposed to fight anymore. We’re not supposed to holler at each other and go to sleep mad. But we do it anyway, and it’s like nothing’s changed since—” He can’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t really need to.

“Ponyboy…” Darry trails off. What is there to say? Mama would know what to do, she would know what to say so Ponyboy knew that there was a part of Darry’s soul intrinsically tied to his, following him around no matter how far he wandered.

But Darry doesn’t know how to talk; he hardly knows how to feel.

Ponyboy looks away from him and stays quiet for a couple moments, playing with the loose strings on Darry’s sheets.

“Darry?” He looks up.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Darry frowns. “‘Course.”

“And you promise you won’t be mad?”

“Yeah.”

Ponyboy looks up to catch sight of Darry before his eyes dart away again.

“Sometimes I— Sometimes I’m scared you don’t love me.” He lets the sentence hang for a couple seconds, lets it fester in the air and seep through Darry’s skin. “I ain’t sayin’ you don’t wanna keep me or that ya don’t care, but I just— I don’t know. Are ya doin’ it all ‘cause you think you should?”

He looks up again — furtive, small, scared — and looks back down at the sheets.

“God, Pony,” Darry says softly, “‘Course I love ya. Just ‘cause we fight don’t mean nothing.” Ponyboy still won’t meet his eyes. With every second that goes by, the crack in Darry’s heart grows a bit wider. “C’mere.” He pats the spot beside him.

Ponyboy looks up in surprise. He gets up tentatively and walks over to the other side of the bed, where Darry’s sitting. The moment he’s sat down, Darry wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls Ponyboy towards him. Ponyboy tenses, and for a moment Darry’s sure he’s made a mistake, that this wasn’t what he needed, before he slowly relaxes, his face burrows into Darry’s shoulder — Jesus he’s tall now, he used to barely reach his chest — and he hugs Darry back like he needs it for the first time in… far too long.

“Love ain’t always pretty, Pony,” Darry whispers into his hair, “It ain’t always perfect and happy and nice, but it’s there. S’why there’s always Pepsi in the fridge and why I always ask where you’re goin’ when you start runnin’ out the door and why Soda and me listen to you talk about your books.” Ponyboy laughs softly, muffled by Darry’s shoulder, and Darry smiles — proud, fond, relieved. “Love ain’t in some big moment, it’s in the little things, so sometimes it can be easy to miss. But it’s there, I promise.” Darry forces himself to pull Ponyboy away from him and take him by the shoulders so they can meet eyes. “It’ll always be there, alright?”

Did I get it right, Mama?

#the outsiders 2025 valentines day exchange #the outsiders #darry curtis

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