#i read it and everything feels wrong and no words pop in my head

[hoshifighting]

    cold hearted!jeonghan + virginity loss

— after the rumors spread about Jeonghan, the coldest guy in the university, having the biggest crush on you, you ask him to be your first.

WARNINGS: +18, smut, virginity loss, oral (f. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, begging, protected sex.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

it feels almost too easy.

you’ve spent years skirting around the idea, dropping hints here and there to guys you thought could be good enough, but somehow it never worked out. none of them felt right—not that it was about romance, but the hesitation always lingered when it came down to it. maybe it was nerves, maybe it was the wrong guys, but the frustration built up to the point where you just wanted to get it over with.

and then there’s jeonghan.

the guy everyone whispers about, cold-hearted, unapproachable, but with a reputation that’s impossible to ignore. girls gossiping in between lectures, bathrooms filled with whispers of him being distant yet insanely attractive. and somewhere along the line, you heard it—the rumor that he had the fattest crush on you.

the thought of it festered in your mind for weeks. yo know him, a few polite exchanges, some assignments you did together, pairing up on p.e... there’s a confidence in your gut that he’ll say yes.

you hadn’t planned on showing up at his dorm unannounced, yet here you are, standing outside jeonghan’s door with a racing heart and sweaty palms. knocking felt surreal, like a dream you might regret later, but you do it anyway because you’re desperate. a familiar, twisted excitement coils low in your stomach when you hear footsteps, and the door swings open to reveal jeonghan—leaning against the frame, as nonchalant as ever.

“what’s up?” he asks, eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to read your thoughts. the casualness in his voice makes you almost forget why you’re here. almost.

“can i come in?” you stammer.

he steps aside without a word, allowing you to slip past him into the small room. his dorm smells faintly of laundry detergent and something minty. it’s tidy, too—unexpectedly so.

“this is new,” he says, sitting on the edge of his bed, arms folded, watching you. “you showing up here and all.”

you laugh nervously, wringing your hands as you stand awkwardly in the middle of the room. “yeah, well… i’ve been thinking.”

his eyebrow quirks up, like he’s daring you to keep going. but you hesitate, biting your lip, trying to find the right words. you’ve played this conversation out in your head a thousand times, but now, under his steady gaze, everything feels impossible to say.

he tilts his head. “you’re not here to ask me about the assignment, are you?”

“no,” you blurt, suddenly sitting down on the chair next to his bed. you can’t meet his eyes. “it’s… something else.”

silence stretches between you. jeonghan waits, patient, but there’s something flickering in his expression now—curiosity, maybe.

you take a deep breath, your voice shaky but determined. “i want you to be my first.”

his eyes widen, and for the first time, jeonghan looks genuinely caught off guard. “what?”

“i… i want to lose my virginity.” you blurt out, no point in dancing around it anymore. you’ve been holding onto this for years, and you’re tired. tired of hearing your friends share their stories, tired of feeling left behind.

“you want me to do it?” he shakes his head, leaning back on his elbows, processing your words. “so what, you just wanna pop your cherry and bounce?”

“no!” you shake your head quickly, heart pounding as you try to explain. “i just… i don’t want my first time to be with some asshole. everyone else would treat me like a joke. but you… you wouldn’t, right?” your voice is small, and you hate how vulnerable you sound, but it’s true. jeonghan might have a reputation, but he’s never been cruel.

he closes his eyes, tipping his head back against the wall. inside, you can tell he’s thrilled—maybe he’s been dreaming about this. but the mask he wears is cold, detached, like he’s doing you a favor.

“you’re serious?” he asks, voice low.

“yeah,” you whisper.

he doesn’t move for a moment, just staring at you, like he’s deciding whether or not to believe you. then, slowly, he leans in, his face inches from yours. his breath is warm, and your heart skips a beat. it’s almost too much to handle, and you blink up at him, your voice a nervous squeak.

“are you… are you gonna kiss me?”

jeonghan furrows his brow, like it’s the dumbest question he’s ever heard. “what, you thought i was just gonna—” he stops, and you see the slightest flicker of a smile. “—get straight to it?”

you shrink into yourself a little, cheeks burning. “maybe?”

he chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that makes your stomach twist. “nah, you’re way too cute for that.”

before you can respond, his lips are on yours—wet, sloppy, and everything you didn’t expect. there’s no rush, no hurried fumbling. just him, kissing you slow and deep, making sure you feel everything. his hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as you melt into the kiss, your body buzzing.

then, he takes your hand, guiding it down to his lap, pressing it against the hard length straining through his sweatpants. you freeze, your breath hitching at the sudden contact.

“feel that?” he murmurs against your lips, voice husky. “that’s going inside you.. do you think you can take it.”

your fingers curl around him instinctively, squeezing just enough to make him groan softly. “i can.” you bite your lip.

“still sure about this?” he asks, his breath heavy.

you nod.

jeonghan's hands are all over you, moving so effortlessly, and before you know it, your clothes are off, tossed somewhere in the room. he’s slow, but it’s not the kind of slow that makes you feel exposed—more like he’s savoring the moment, taking his time like he’s got all night. and maybe he does.

when he spreads your legs, the sudden awareness of what’s happening, of how vulnerable you are, hits you. you instinctively cover your face with your hands, but you can still feel his eyes on you, taking in every inch of your body.

“cute,” he murmurs. “you hiding from me now?”

your breath catches in your throat, but you peek through your fingers to see him smirking, looking like he’s in complete control. and maybe that’s what makes it less terrifying—he’s not rushing. he’s not judging. he’s just... there.

when his head dips between your thighs, you tense, unsure of what to expect. your heart races, and you let out a shaky breath as his mouth hovers over you, his warm breath ghosting over your already wet folds. then he licks, slow and slick, and you almost orgasm there, the warm tongue on your clit making your eyes slightly roll back.

“fuck,” you gasp, your hands clutching the sheets beside you, your face burning.

he pulls back slightly, lips glistening, his eyes locking with yours. “relax,” he says. “we’ve barely started.”

and then his tongue is back, sliding through every fold, licking with a patience that’s almost agonizing. he’s focused, making sure you feel everything—every lick, every brush of his lips, every soft kiss to your inner thigh between his slow, sensual movements.

your chest heaves as you try to process the sensations, but it’s overwhelming. this is what you’ve been missing out on all these years? the thought is almost laughable now, especially when he sucks on your clit, gently at first, then harder, leaving it swollen and pulsing.

“oh my god,” you cry out, the sound escaping you before you can stop it.

jeonghan grins against you, winking naughty, and as if to rub it in, he gives your clit a playful suck, sending you squealing. he looks up at you, still grinning. “you like that?”

you don’t even answer, can’t answer, because your brain is too fogged up. you can’t think, can barely breathe, and he hasn’t even started properly yet.

his hand travels down between your legs, and he presses a finger against your slick entrance, not pushing in just yet, just applying pressure, teasing. “have you ever had your little fingers here?” he asks curious.

your face burns at his words, but you nod “just one finger,” you admit, shy and sly, like a secret you’re embarrassed to reveal.

the way you say it—so sweet, so unsure—makes him throb inside his sweatpants. he exhales heavily, eyes darkening as he pushes his finger inside, just the tip at first, slowly. “just one, hmm?”

you bite your lip, nodding as he slides the rest of his finger in. the sensation is new, unfamiliar, but not uncomfortable, his finger is a bit longer than yours. he’s careful, attentive even, and that’s what makes you relax into the feeling.

“you’re so tight,” he mutters as he adds a second finger, stretching you out even more. you wince slightly at the stretch, but the way he curls his fingers inside you, scissoring them slowly, almost instantly makes the discomfort melt.

your hips buck instinctively as he works you open, his movements precise, his eyes fixed on you like he’s studying every reaction. “how’s that feel?”

“good,” you breathe, the word slipping out before you can stop it.

he chuckles softly, his free hand moving up to caress your thigh as his fingers pump in and out of you, his pace maddeningly slow. “you’re getting impatient, aren’t you?”

you whine in response, your voice shaky. “take your clothes off,” you mumble, your neediness evident in your tone.

jeonghan pauses, amusement flickering in his eyes. “hmm? what’s that?”

“take them off,” you repeat, a little more urgent this time, your voice coming out in a needy whine.

he grins, leaning over you, his face inches from yours. “patience, baby,” he says, his voice soft, but there’s a teasing edge to it. “you really wanna see me naked that bad?”

you nod, shameless now, your body craving the sight of him, the feeling of him against you. he’s been teasing you for too long, and it’s driving you insane.

“just wait a little longer,” he says, his tone mock-sulky, like he’s the one being deprived. but there’s a smile playing on his lips, and you can tell he’s enjoying this, the way you’re practically begging for him.

his fingers curl inside you again, hitting a spot that has you arching off the bed, a soft moan escaping your lips. “you’re so cute like this,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh as he works a third finger inside you, stretching you even more.

you whimper at the new stretch, your body trembling, but it’s the good kind of overwhelming now. the kind that has you clenching around him, needing more.

“jeonghan...” you whisper, your voice breathless, desperate.

he smirks, his thumb brushing over your clit as he scissoring his fingers inside you, spreading you open. “i love seeing you like this,” he murmurs. “all wet for me, begging like that.”

you don’t even care how wrecked you sound when you plead, “please, jeonghan. take them off.”

he laughs softly, shaking his head. “soon,” he says, his voice dripping with promise. “just let me enjoy this a little more.”

jeonghan keeps his fingers inside you, watching every twitch of your body as you clench around him, so tight he almost groans himself. you’re so close, it’s written all over your face, but you don’t even seem to notice it—lost somewhere, breathing heavily but not quite there yet. and he’s not about to let you drift off when you’re so close to cum.

“mm, baby,” he murmurs, his fingers moving just a little faster, curling them in that spot he’s already learned by heart. “you don’t even know, do you?”

you blink, dazed, barely processing his words, but then you feel his lips on your nipple—a soft peck at first, then a sharp bite that has you gasping, your hips jerking against his hand.

“there you are,” he smirks, teeth grazing over your sensitive skin as he feels you clench around his fingers again, tighter this time. “you were drifting away, but i need you right here with me. focus.”

your body reacts instantly, the tension building again, winding tighter and tighter until you can’t hold back anymore. his fingers pump in and out, wet and slick with your dampness, and the obscene sound of it fills the room as he brings you right to the edge.

“fuck, jeonghan—” your voice is shaky, barely holding it together as your hips start moving on their own, grinding down onto his hand. you’re not even sure when it happens, but suddenly, the tight coil inside you snaps, and you’re coming hard around his fingers, your body tensing, then releasing all at once.

“oh my god,” you cry out, your back arching off the bed as you orgasm, wet and messy. you’re so slick that his fingers slide easily in and out, coated in the creamy evidence of your cum. jeonghan’s eyes are glued to you, watching the way your body trembles, how soaked you are, and the satisfied smirk on his face says it all.

“so fucking wet,” he murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself, fingers still buried deep inside you. he slows down his movements, letting you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm, his thumb brushing lazily over your clit. “you didn’t even realize how close you were, huh?”

you shake your head, still trying to catch your breath, your mind foggy from the bliss.

he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your thigh, his eyes flicking up to yours. “wanna see me take it all off now?” he teases, pulling his fingers out slowly, letting you feel every inch of them as they slip free. your breath hitches, still sensitive, but you nod eagerly, the post-orgasmic haze making you a little desperate.

“please,” you whisper, your voice a little hoarse, but the need is clear.

he grins, sitting up and tugging his shirt off halfway, but he pauses, eyes scanning the room. “wait a second,” he says, a bit too casual, as he starts searching around for something.

“what are you doing?” you ask, frustration creeping into your voice. he’s making you wait, again, and you’re about to protest when he holds up a condom, waving it in front of you with a satisfied smirk.

“can’t forget this,” he says, climbing back onto the bed.

you roll your eyes, still breathless, but your gaze drops to his chest as he slides the shirt the rest of the way off. his hand runs slowly down his chest, over his belly, and lower still to the waistband of his sweatpants.

“calm down,” he teases, his voice sweet, noticing the way your eyes are locked on his every move. “i’m not going anywhere.”

your breath hitches as he pulls his pants and boxers down, finally revealing himself to you. his cock is hard, flushed, and slick with precum, and you can’t stop yourself from staring.

“fuck, you’re pretty,” you mutter under your breath, barely aware you said it out loud until you see the way his lips curl into a grin.

“you’re the pretty one,” he counters, his voice soft as he strokes himself once, twice, before rolling the condom on. his eyes flick up to yours again, playful but with a hint of seriousness. “ready?”

you nod, your body buzzing as he lines himself up with your entrance. he slides the tip inside, and you both groan at the contact. it’s slow at first, his cock pushing into you inch by inch, and you can feel the stretch, how full he’s making you feel already.

but then, right when he’s halfway in, you gasp, “wait—stop.”

he freezes instantly, his eyes searching your face. “you okay?”

instead of answering, your hand slips between your bodies, wrapping around the base of his cock. the sudden contact makes him shudder, and he squeezes his eyes shut, groaning low in his throat. you give him a little shake, feeling the hardness of him pulsing in your hand, then slowly start guiding him deeper inside you.

you guide him in slowly, inch by inch, until your hand has nowhere else to go, and he's buried completely inside you, balls deep. you’re panting, your body adjusting to the size of him, and when you pout your lips for a kiss, jeonghan leans in without hesitation, pressing his lips to yours, swallowing the little scoff you let out between moans. the sensation of him stretching you so perfectly has your head spinning.

he pulls back slightly, eyes glued to yours as he starts moving, his hips rolling in slow thrusts. it’s a sharp sting at first, but nowhere near as painful as you expected, and the more he moves, the more that sting fades, replaced by a growing heat that makes your breath catch in your throat.

you don’t even notice the way your lips curl into the nastiest grin, like you finally got what you’ve been wanting, and you’re enjoying every second of it. jeonghan sees it though, sees the way your expression shifts from tentative to pure satisfaction, and it drives him fucking wild. his steady thrusts falter for a second, and he has to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep himself in check.

“fuck,” he breathes, his voice shaky as he watches you. “you look like you’re having the time of your life right now.”

you moan in response, not even trying to hide it anymore. “i am.”

that’s all the encouragement he needs. his thrusts pick up, sharper now, deeper, and with each roll of his hips, his balls slap against your ass. the bed squeaks in time with his movements, but you barely notice, too caught up in the pleasure. your moans spill out freely, louder and more unrestrained, each one sending a jolt straight to his gut.

jeonghan’s losing it, the sight of you, the sound of you—it’s gonna replay in his mind for days, haunting him like a ghost, but right now, he’s not thinking about that. right now, all he can focus on is the way your body feels underneath him, how you seem to want this just as much as he does. his hips move faster, thrusts sharper and more purposeful, and fuck, you’re taking it all so well.

“god, you—” he groans, his voice strained. “you feel so fucking good. you don’t even know.”

his pace quickens, his hips rolling harder, and you gasp, your body arching up to meet him halfway. he’s hitting all the right spots now, and your moans turn into desperate little cries, your fingers gripping the sheets as you lose yourself in the feeling.

he notices how much you like it—how your body responds to every sharp thrust, how your moans get louder, and that nasty smile on your face only grows. it’s too much for him, but he tries to bury the overwhelming need down in his gut, focusing on fucking you just right.

but even then, he can’t help it—the more you react, the more he loses control, his hips working in sharper, stronger thrusts, the rhythm getting rougher as he chases that perfect high for both of you.

“you like that?” he asks, his voice rough, but the way your body clenches around him is answer enough.

he can’t help but smirk at your desperate little gasps. each thrust brings a little more pleasure, and your nails dig into his back, urging him on as you match his pace.

“more,” you whimper, the need spilling from your lips like a prayer. “please, jeonghan, don’t stop.”

he chuckles, making your heart race. “as if I could,” he replies, picking up the pace even more. you feel that familiar heat pooling deep inside you again.

he can’t help but lean down, pressing a kiss to your neck as he continues to rock into you, relishing in every little sound that escapes your mouth.

“that’s it,” he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot. “let me hear you.”

your moans grow louder, echoing off the walls as you feel the pressure building within you again. your body thrums with need as you claw at him, the sensation of him filling you completely making everything else fade away. you’re lost in him, in this moment, and nothing else matters.

“i’m so close,” you manage to gasp, your words barely coherent as your hips start moving on their own, desperate for that release.

jeonghan feels it, too—your body tightening around him, the way you’re pushing back against him, and it drives him crazy. he grips your hips tighter, controlling your movements, thrusting deeper, harder, pushing you right to the edge.

“cum pretty, cum f’me,” he urges sultry, and you can feel that heat building to a boiling point.

“jeonghan—” your voice breaks, and just like that, you’re falling, you’re gripping him tightly, your body spasming as you cum, crying out his name as everything blurs into a haze.

“that’s it, baby,” he groans, his own pleasure rising as he watches you unravel beneath him. “so fucking beautiful.”

the way your body squeezes him as you ride out your orgasm sends him over the edge, and he follows you, thrusting harder as he lets go, filling the condom as you both collapse.

you both lie there for a moment, breathless, the only sounds filling the room are your mingled breaths and the soft creaking of the bed. jeonghan brushes a strand of hair away from your face, a lazy grin spreading across his lips as he looks down at you.

“so, do I get to be the one who pops that cherry again sometime?”

“if you’re lucky,” you tease bakc, but deep down, you know you’re both hooked, and this was just the beginning.

[amywritesthings]

care. / a levi period comfort fic

pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader word count: 1.4k summary: You have to skip your gym date with Levi due to bad period cramps. Levi, however, isn't going to let you suffer alone.

note: set in the press four for more options / dating on airplane mode universe tags: modern au, neighbors au, menstruation, cramp pain, period talk, doting new boyfriend levi, fluff, adult language, reader has a chronic pms pain

author note: today is my birthday!! my gift to you is this little P4/DOAP one shot. this is a little self indulgent, so i hope this helps anyone else that experiences bad pains like me! i will be writing one shots all month for my endo awareness event, so feel free to send requests if you would like to see more! credit: dividers by @saradika-graphics

( Read on AO3. )

You know as soon as you wake up what kind of day it’s going to be.

As you stir from slumber, you’re met with the familiar, unforgiving punch to the gut before you take your first deep inhale. The sharp jab is a tell-tale sign that you should have probably hit the pharmacy when you had the time during your lunch break — yesterday.

You know, before things got awful.

“God damn it.”

Periods have always been a sore spot to discuss in your life. The immense pain that follows the next agonizing few days is not a new occurrence, but knowing them intimately never makes them any better. No matter how many times you’ve prepared, weathered, endured — it’s a gamble whether or not you have the energy to eat today, much less do anything productive.

Dragging your phone off of the adjacent nightstand, your heart sinks when you see your most recent notifications:

Alarm set for 7:30 a.m. (Dismiss?)

Remember to pay credit card bill. (Eventually.)

New text from Levi Ackerman.

Shit.

Opening the third notification first, you read his text from five minutes ago.

[LEVI:] Hey. Still going to the gym this morning?

Self hatred floods your system when you realize there’s no way in hell you’re going to be going to the gym today, much less leaving this apartment. It’ll be a miracle if you can drag yourself to the bathroom.

Missing out on seeing Levi today hurts more than you’re willing to admit.

Tapping the reply bubble, you type in response:

[ME:] Sorry, not feeling well. :( Rain check?

It’s weird to confess why, right?

Everything is way too fresh, much too new, between the two of you.

You can’t burden your newest partner with the—

Another notification pops up immediately.

[LEVI:] What’s wrong?

Double shit.

Sighing to yourself, you type back, hesitate, then send.

[ME:] Don’t worry about it, it’s pretty embarrassing. I probably won’t be able to leave the apartment today. I’m rooting you on from down here!

Or up here, technically, if he’s going to be at the gym.

(Dumbass.)

You drop your phone to your mattress, slowly easing yourself out of bed. You check the sheets behind you to make sure you didn’t ruin them — thank god, there’s a singular win for this morning — before waddling to the bathroom.

Grabbing a new pair of underwear and a pad, you sit on the toilet with your head in your hands, taking some time to breathe through the initial cramps.

A few days.

Just a few days and you can—

It’s faint, but you hear it.

Three raps at your front door.

Knock, knock, knock.

Perking your head up, your brows furrow as you finish up, tug your pajama bottoms back on, and wash your hands. Crossing the living room to the front door, you use the peephole to see who’s waiting outside.

For the briefest moment, you forget your cramps altogether.

“Levi?!” you yelp, shocked by his presence.

“Hey,” he states, arms crossed over his chest. He’s wearing his typical white workout tank, displaying his lean arms in the fisheye lens of your doorframe. “You okay in there?”

“I— yeah, I’m okay!” you lie, higher pitched than usual. “Sorry, I can’t let you in.”

You note how his chin tilts, contemplating your brevity. 

“You come down with some shitty cold or whatever?”

“No, it’s—”

“Stomach bug?”

“No, not at all, it’s just—”

“I can wear a mask if you got something catchable.” He shifts, thumbing back to the hallway behind him like he knows you’re watching. “I have a bunch at my place.”

“Levi, no,” you blurt, getting frustrated. “I have my period!”

The dark-haired man stops.

His brows furrow, contemplating with evident confusion on his face.

“...I’m confused, a period of what? Fucking dysentary or something?” When you’re about to argue, he pointedly glances at the peephole. “Can you at least open the door for a sec?”

Reluctantly you agree to his request, unlocking the door and swinging it open. You feel immense shame standing in front of your new boyfriend looking messy and make-up free.

There hasn’t even been time to at least put on some moisturizer, damn it.

When he finally sees you at your worst (or so you perceive to be your worst) he doesn’t even bat an eye.

The stormy grays just stare into your own, brows rising expectantly.

“What do you need?”

You lean against your doorframe, trying to breathe through another wave of cramps. “What?”

With a tsk, he steps a baited sneaker into the threshold of your apartment. When you don’t push him out, he fully enters your apartment and beelines to your kitchen.

(Right. Same layout, just a couple of floors higher.)

“Get comfy on the couch,” he states like he’s a coach again, devoid of nonsense. “You have any tea lying around?”

“I don’t understand,” you state, only then closing the door to your apartment. “You were about to go to the gym—”

“Yeah, and now I’m not.”

“Levi.”

“Couch,” he counters, plucking the kettle you had sitting dormant on your stovetop to fill it with water. “Or your bed, if that makes you more comfortable.”

You can’t really argue with that, not when your cramps are making you dizzy.

Hell, his insistence on helping is making you even dizzier but in an entirely different way.

When you dated Porco, he never extended help beyond some comforting words and a stray pint of ice cream. Levi looks natural rummaging around your kitchen as if he’s been spending time here for months.

“You really don’t have to babysit me,” you try to reason, though you find yourself slowly shambling towards your couch anyway. “I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, well, my mother used to have a lot of really bad months when I was growing up.” Levi starts the stove, heating up the water. His eyes briefly flicker to you. “My friend, Hange, doesn’t exactly have a walk in the park with this shit, either. They left an arsenal of supplies at my place whenever they come around. Can’t imagine they’ll care if I borrow some of it.”

So Levi has period supplies at his apartment for friends and family?

That…

You’ve never heard of any man who has something like that.

“Supplies like what?”

“Admittedly it’s a bunch of stuff we used to offer people at our gym in case they were having a rough week,” he explains as if this is nothing while he watches the kettle grow hot. 

Then again, periods are supposed to be nothing.

They’re natural and half of the planet go through them monthly, and yet —

“Heating pads, two different sizes. Mint and ginger tea are soothing for cramping. I’ve got a decently fresh stock of those leaves. Not sure if you’re out of sanitary products, but I got some of those in a cabinet, too.”

You stare dumbfounded, your heart skipping a beat.

(As if this man couldn’t be any more attractive.)

When you don’t respond, he turns around to look at you. His eyes soften as they search your face.

“I’d ask how your pain is right now, but I take it it’s high?” You nod. “Alright. Mind if I keep the door unlocked? I’ll run upstairs and grab everything.”

“You don’t have—”

“Don’t,” he cuts you off, but it isn’t firm like before.

Levi walks across the room towards you. As he bends at the hip, his dog tags slip out of his tank top.

Gentle lips press to the crown of your head.

“Let me take care of you, alright? You’re my girl. That’s my responsibility, especially when you’re feeling like shit. I can do push-ups anywhere. Gym’s not a necessity.”

Melting at his reassurance, you can’t help but tease. 

“So I get pampering and a show? Talk about high-class service.”

The lips on your head curve to a smirk before pulling away, his eyes meeting yours. His hand raises to cup the side of your face adoringly. An absentminded thumb strokes your cheek.

“Yeah, well, you know me. High fucking class or whatever.”

When you laugh, the corner of his mouth twitches again. He lifts your chin and leans forward, kissing your lips. You return the gesture, warmth spreading throughout your body.

“I’ll be five minutes,” he whispers against your lips.

“It only takes you five minutes to run up six flights of stairs and back?”

“You can time me if you think I’m lying.”

“Deal.”

[deprivedreality]

𝗪𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗻𝗼 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝗞𝗮𝘁𝘀𝘂𝗸𝗶 𝗕𝗮𝗸𝘂𝗴𝗼!! 𝙚𝙭𝙘𝙚𝙥𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙚 𝙆𝙖𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙞 𝘽𝙖𝙠𝙪𝙜𝙤 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙜𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨

Word Count: i don't know

Content: katsuki bakugo with glasses isn't an office siren, he's more of an attractive dwight schrute imo. gender neutral reader. drabble. fluff. i just saw these pictures on pinterest and I watched myself cook.

Katsuki Bakugo rubbed his temples as he squinted at the whiteboard in the training room. The writing blurred together, a hazy mess that made his already limited patience dwindle faster than usual. His vision had been weird ever since that run-in with a villain wielding a blinding quirk during his internship with Best Jeanist. The doctor had said his sight would recover in a few weeks, but the lingering effects were starting to piss him off real bad.

“Bakugo, you okay?”

Your voice pulled him from his thoughts. You were sitting beside him, your head tilted slightly as you observed his uncharacteristic struggle.

He's been rubbing and rubbing his eyes that you're worried they'd pop off any moment now. Damn, he can't even focus on his notes of fucking course cause he can't read it with the stupid combination of fucking astigmatism, myopia and glaucoma.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, averting his gaze.

You weren’t convinced and, of course, you were concerned. “Doesn’t look like it. You’ve been squinting at everything for the past few days. Maybe you should get your eyes checked again.”

“Tch, I don’t need a damn checkup,” he snapped, but his annoyance lacked its usual bite. You frowned.

“Come on,” you said, standing and grabbing his arm. “What’s the harm in getting it checked? If there’s nothing wrong, great. If there is, we’ll figure it out.”

He sighed, realizing you wouldn’t let this go. “Fine. But if this is a waste of time, I’m blaming you.”

It's a good thing you two were still in school grounds, it means Recovery Girl is no more than a few halls away from where you and bakugo were studying at.

The clinic was quiet when you arrived, and Recovery Girl was quick to examine Bakugo’s eyes. After a series of tests, the diagnosis was clear: his vision was still recovering, but for the time being, he needed glasses to help him see more clearly.

Bakugo’s expression was a mix of annoyance and disbelief. “Glasses? Seriously?”

“It’s just temporary,” Recovery Girl assured him. She then walked towards a closet in the far back and whipped out what seemed to be nerd glasses. “Here, try these.”

The doctor handed Bakugo a pair of black-rimmed glasses. He put them on reluctantly, and you had to stifle a laugh when you saw the way his eyes looked magnified through the lenses.

“What’s so damn funny?” he snapped, narrowing his newly enlarged eyes at you.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, but—oh my god, Katsuki! You look like a cartoon character!”

He scowled, but there was a faint pink tint to his cheeks. Despite his irritation, there was something oddly satisfying about seeing you laugh like that.

"I'd put a bow on that glasses if you'd let me! All you need now are beaver teeth and you'll be a certified goof ball!" You laughed, basically breathless. Even Recovery Girl couldn't help but stiffle a laugh.

“Shut the hell up,” he muttered, taking the prescription and storming out, but not before glancing back to catch you still grinning.

The next day, Bakugo walked into class wearing his new glasses. The room went silent for about three seconds before the laughter began. Even Todoroki and Tokoyami couldn't help their grin, their lips twitched in amusement.

“Bakugo!” Kaminari wheezed, clutching his sides. “You look like a scientist!”

"Whoah! Bakubro! I feel like I'm in a 3D movie with those lenses!" Kirishima added, laughing even harder than Kaminari.

"Heavens, Bakugo, Is that magnifying glass? Or are you just that eager to start class?" Even Iida couldn't help himself and added to the chaos. Bakugo was starting to erupt.

“I bet he can spot a typo on a billboard from a mile away with those,” Mina chimed in, tears of laughter streaming down her face.

"I bet he's craving bananas!" Mineta boomed. Unlucky for him, he was within Bakugo's range and got his ahh exploded.

“Shut the hell up!” Bakugo roared, his hands sparking ominously.

But his outburst only made them laugh harder.

You, sitting at your desk, couldn’t stop giggling either. You already had the laugh of your life when you saw him wear it for the first time, now you had the chance to actually examine him with glasses. “I think he looks cute,” you said loud enough for him to hear, still smiling.

Bakugo froze but his hands were still in the middle of choking Kaminari and Mineta, his glare snapping to you. “What? You didn't think it was yesterday,”

“It is cute though. Now that I stare at you more," you repeated, a teasing lilt in your voice. “The glasses suit you.”

He blinked, momentarily thrown off by your words. The classroom fell silent, everyone holding their breath to see how he’d react.

“Hypocrite,” he muttered, finally settling, sitting down and turning his attention to his notes. But you didn’t miss the way his ears turned red, or the way he didn’t try to blast anyone after that.

I think he looks cute! The glasses suits you... now that I stare at you more. I think he looks cute! It's cute though. I think he looks cute! Chanted at the back of his mind over and over. SHUT UP!

The next day, Bakugo showed up to class without his glasses. The change was immediate—everyone noticed, but no one dared comment on it. His glare alone was enough to keep them quiet.

During lunch, you slid into the seat next to him. “Eee? No glasses today?”

“Wearing contacts,” he replied curtly, poking at his food.

“Why? The glasses were cute,” you said, resting your chin in your hand as your gaze sauntered off.

He gave you a side-eye glance, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly when you weren't looking at him. “Yeah, well, I’m not here to entertain you idiots.”

You pouted dramatically. “I liked the glasses. I thought for sure you'd wear them until you get better. I never thought you'd like contacts. Are you ever gonna wear them again?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes. “That’s not good enough, Bakugo.”

“Tch,” he muttered, pushing his tray aside. “I’ll wear ’em during our study sessions, alright? Happy now?”

You blinked, caught off guard by his casual mention of your study time together. But you smiles nevertheless. “Oh. Yeah, that works! Lemme decorate it!”

“The damn glasses are not mine, idiot. But whatever,” He stood abruptly, leaving you alone at the table, your cheeks warm and your heart racing.

True to his word, Bakugo showed up to your next study session wearing his glasses. You couldn’t help but smile as he sat down across from you, his usual scowl softened by the frames perched on his nose.

“You know,” you said, flipping through your notes, “I think I like you better with glasses. You looked extra goofy cute.”

He snorted, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah? Well, don’t get used to it. I’m ditching these things the second my eyes are back to normal.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the fondness in your smile. “Whatever you say, Bakugo.”

For the rest of the session, the two of you worked in comfortable silence, broken only by your occasional teasing and his gruff responses. At one point, you scribbled a tiny pink bow to which you cut out and Bakugo actually agreed with your request to put it temporarily on it. And though he’d never admit it out loud, Katsuki Bakugo didn’t mind the glasses so much when it meant he got to see you smile like that.

ᓚᘏᗢ @deprivedreality 2024 | all rights reserved.

[syrenqin]

I don't know, You tell me ~ Sylus

synopsis: Sylus is usually a very patient man but when you overstep your boundaries and make him reel with jealousy, you are in for the angst of your life, soothed over by some mind-blowing lovemaking.

content and warnings: smut, mdni! jealousy, miscommunication, possessive Sylus, angsty themes, silent treatment, teasing, provoking, p in v, org*sm denial, makeup s*x, dacryphilia, size kink, swearing

"My baby dragon." you type into your phone as a smile curves onto your lips. "Breakfast is ready, wanna come eat?"

*sent*

On alternate Sundays, the two of you take turns to make each other your favorite breakfast dishes. It was your turn today, and you had prepared a hearty meal for your boyfriend, the famed leader of Onichynus for the good people of the N109 Zone, but an adorable plushie for you, your beloved Sylus.

You wait for him to reply to your text or his heavy footsteps to descend the spiral staircase of his lavish condo, but none of it happens. You lean against the counter, watching the steam emanate from your freshly cooked dishes.

"Y/N?" you hear the sound of your name, but it isn't a deep, velvety voice saying it. It's Kieran.

"Oh, hey" you give Kieran a nervous smile. "Where's the bossman?"

"Oh, he-" Kieran's face is obstructed by his crow mask but you could tell he is panicking. "He left for work a while ago. Um, he won't be back until after lunch."

You furrow your brows at the boy. "What? He didn't tell me before going though. And what work on Sunday?" to which Kieran simply shrugs.

You turn your attention back to your phone and send him another text.

"Is everything alright, baby. Where are you??"

You see a *read* pop-up beside your message, but no reply following it.

You try to ignore the knot forming in your stomach. Normally, Sylus would respond right away—whether it was with a quick "I love you" or a silly comment about the breakfast you made for him. The fact that he hasn’t bothered to even text you back feels… wrong. It’s not like him. From the corner of your eye, you notice Kieran has started to fidget.

"You know something, don't you?" you narrow your eyes at the perplexed boy but he simply raises his hands. "I don't! Anyway, gotta run an errand. See ya, Y/N!" he blurts out, fleeing from the scene and leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Your appetite is gone now from anxiety pulling up in your abdomen, and you leave the spread you've made untouched and decide to unwind in the shower. You can't stop thinking about it and keep checking your phone every 5 minutes like a maniac to see if there are any updates from him. Heck, you even check the local news to see if anything is really up.

Time goes by like a snail on a journey and by the time the clock strikes 3 PM, you're exhausted from worrying.

You're laying on the bed, hopeless and shaky when the door to your room creaks open. You jump up and sit on your bed as Sylus enters the room, removing his leather jacket and placing his motorcycle helmet on one of the dressers.

"Where have you been?" you demand, slightly irritated. "And why haven't you been replying?"

Sylus uncuffs his sleeves and runs a hand through his light hair, heading towards the bath.

"I'm asking you something!" you raise your voice slightly, in case he somehow managed to miss what you said.

"Just busy." he replies shortly, voice devoid of much emotion.

Before he can shut himself in the bathroom, though, you get off the bed and run up to him frantically.

"Sylus, what's wrong, baby? Did I do something? You need to use your words." you say, holding on to his large arm with both of your shaky ones. He looks at you apprehensively and opens his mouth to say something.

Your phone cuts through the heavy air with three loud dings. You turn to look at it, and it starts ringing.

"I don't know, you tell me, Y/N." Sylus gives you a pained smirk as he removes his arm from your grasp and locks the bathroom door on your face.

He used my name. Not kitten, not sweetie, not honey! you think to yourself. It rarely happens that Sylus would resort to using your name. He adores you so much that he would come up with the cutest nicknames to call you.

You are stunned for a second and bite the inside of your cheek fervently on your way back to check your phone.

It's your hopeless, idiotic childhood friend spamming you again.

"Heyyy you uggo."

"Y'all reached home alright yesterday? you were pretty drunk, thank god your boyfriend came along to pick you up."

"Also what's with him, he's even bigger than me?? Also he looked like he wanted to strangle me?? WTF!!"

You sigh after reading the texts and start tapping away on your phone.

"Don't talk shit about him or I'll block you, Caleb. He's the most adorable person when you get to know him better."

you smile to yourself when you remember how your opinion of Sylus had transitioned when you got to know him better. You can't really blame Caleb here.

"Also, I reached home fine. Thanks for calling me, our class reunion went great. I wasn't hungover this morning, though, so was I even really that drunk?"

Caleb sent you a few thinking emojis.

"You were drunk enough to confess to me."

You almost dropped your phone when you read that. You didn't want to waste time texting, so you hit call. The phone rings twice before Caleb picks up.

"Hello?"

"Care to explain?" you hiss at him. "The fuckk are you talking about?"

"Oh calm down." Caleb dismissed you. "You were showing us a picture of your boyfriend, and the girls started swooning over him with endless praise to give."

"And?" you prod

"And well one of them asked what you'd do if the guy ever left you or broke up."

"He'd never-"

"Yes, let me finish." Caleb hissed back. "You told them you'd never do that and then perhaps as a joke, you mentioned that if he did, you'd hook up with and marry me, who had asked you out when we were little kids."

"You're right." you admit. "I certainly must have been drunk because what the hell, Caleb?"

"I know right!" Caleb feigned disgut but his voice sounded a little offended. "And that's when Mr. brooding handsome walked in. I think he just heard the last part. He looked taken aback, I'm not sure anyone else noticed because they were too busy gushing over how hot he was."

"Wait, Sylus heard what I rambled about?" you ask just to make sure. "He heard that I'd leave him and hook up with you?"

"Perhaps, that's my guess." Caleb acknowledges.

You feel as if someone had poured cold water on your head. It made sense now!

"Well thanks, mate. I needed this information. Talk to you later."

"But will you really marry me-"

you cut the call before he could finish.

Right on cue, Sylus exits the bath, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist and another one being used to dry his dripping hair. He doesn't make eye contact with you as he heads to the closet to look for a set of clothes to change into.

You approach him and run a finger down his wet back, making him curve it slightly at the stimulus.

"My baby..." you coo at him, hugging him from behind.

"You'll get yourself wet." he states, not turning around.

"Since when have you been afraid of getting me wet." you smirk, digging your face into his wide back.

"Let go," he mutters, his voice flat, as he attempts to pull away from your arms. But this time, you refuse to let go.

"Sylus, I'm sorry," you whisper, burying your nose into the warmth of his back. "I know what happened... it was a misunderstanding. I didn't mean it the way it sounded."

At your words, he finally turns to face you. His crimson eyes burn with a mix of disappointment and hurt, and the sight nearly shatters you. It’s all you can do not to break down in front of him.

"You wouldn't be saying such things if you hadn't been thinking about them. Alcohol brings out people's true nature, sweetheart."

"I wasn’t thinking about it!" you protest desperately, the words tumbling out in a rush. "The girls were teasing me, and I just wanted to show them that you’d never leave me. The thought of it is so absurd that I could joke about marrying Caleb—because it wouldn’t happen!"

His gaze hardens, and his next words land like a heavy blow. "You know how I feel about being abandoned, don’t you, Y/N?"

Your heart skips a beat. "That wasn’t my intention! Please, just—"

"Forget it." he cuts you off. "I don’t want to hear it. Humans are vile creatures. They’ll shower you with love, only to rip it away in an instant, leaving you broken and bleeding." His words are heavy with old scars as he turns away, his figure retreating from you.

"Sylus, wait—" You try reaching out, but he doesn’t look back. He won’t listen.

"I need time alone. Sorry," he says without pause, his voice distant as he walks out, leaving you standing in the quiet emptiness of your ornate bedroom.

You cling on to the hope that maybe Sylus will come back. You did apologize after all. He'll surely come back by night. He will forgive you. Surely, right?

You lay on the cold sheets, eyes wide open, staring at the intricate patterns on the ceiling of your beautiful bedroom, completely devoid of sleep. His huge bed seems to have tripled in size when he's not there, entangled with you, pressing fluttering kisses to your stomach.

When you wake up the next morning, groggy from absolute lack of sleep, and head downstairs, you find the house deserted.

You feel a chill run up your spine but remind yourself that it is Monday and you need to head to the Hunter's Association Office for the day's work.

On the way there, you text him.

"Have a good day, Sy. How are you feeling now? See you in the evening?"

*read*

The day goes by, and you return to a cold, dark house.

Caleb calls to check on you, but you're too restless to answer. Your nerves are frayed, and the phone just sits in your hand, silent. Another sleepless night drags on.

"Sylus, I'm scared," you text him again, your fingers trembling as you type. The thought of him not replying makes your chest tighten. You stare at the screen, willing him to respond. Ten minutes feel like hours before your phone finally chimes.

"The house is secured. No harm will come to you."

Another long night passes. Then another endless day, filled with battles against wanderers and endless paperwork, all while you’re haunted by the emptiness in the space where he should be.

This time when you pass through the door to the house, you slump to the ground, shaking and your chest heaving. You hear a crow's caw in the distance as you will yourself to get up and drag yourself to the bedroom. You're already looking chalkier than before thanks to barely eating or sleeping these past three days.

You hug your knees close as you check your phone again. This time you don't text him and hit the call button.

He picks up in three rings.

"I miss you." you tell him only to be met by silence.

"Please, I miss you. I can't do this, Sylus." you hear his footsteps, going somewhere but no reply.

"Do you really hate me that much now?" you ask with a quivering voice.

"Can I enter?" he speaks finally and you hear a soft knock on your door. You gasp as the phone drops out of your hand and the door swings open, revealing an uncharacteristically disheveled Sylus, who rushes over to you, removing his coat.

Your stomach turns as he wraps his arms around you.

"I can never hate you and you know that." His soft tone is back as his lips move over the shell of your ear. You grab onto his shirt so hard, fisting balls of fabric as if he will disappear again if you let go.

"Mephisto has been monitoring you for days and reporting back to me. I never once left you unattended."

"I-I'm s-sorry. I'm really sorry. I never meant to make you feel abandoned. You know-" tears pool up in your eyes.

"Shhh, sweetie." he presses a long finger to your fluttering lips.

"I'm sorry, I went too far." he says, pressing his forehead to yours. "If you're able to forgive me, let me make it up to you."

Something sparks inside your brain and you stop crying instantly.

"You-" you pull at his hair. "You stupid, gullible, annoying little-"

"Ah, ah, ah! my hair." Sylus lets out a mock scream, holding your wrists.

"I hate you, Sylus." you climb on top of his crotch and pin him flat to the bed.

"Do you really think that low of me?" you ask, roughly grabbing his chin with three of your fingers. He looks at you with his red eyes widening with excitement and astonishment. "Do you think I'd ever able to fall in love with another man after meeting you?" you demand, twisting his chin.

"Do you think I can ever sleep with someone else after getting a taste of you, you demonic little dragon!"

"I know, I know, kitten." he starts but you cut him off by pinching his lips shut and sinking down on him, your lips a mere inch from his. Sylus parts them in anticipation but the kiss he so fervently desires never comes. He bucks himself up to smooch you but you retract your body, making him slump down in defeat and irritation.

"Please?" He asks, his deep voice getting deeper with lust.

You don't reply.

"Please, Y/N? I need you so bad. It's been four days now." he begs, narrowing his eyes. You had just made love the night before that incident and unbeknownst to you, both of you were yearning for each others touch in merely a couple of days.

"I don't know. I heard you but I'm not going to answer!" you tease him, crossing your hands across your chest. "Really?" He raises a brow as he grabs you by the wrist and brings you down over him yet again, the wet trail of tears on your cheek transferring to his face now.

He kisses you like a starved animal, forcing his tongue into your mouth. He cages your head with his hands and doesn't let you resurface for air until your lust gets the best of you and you begin to roll your hips over his crotch in languid circles.

"F-fuck." he gasps, breaking the kiss and looking down to where your body meets his. You kiss him deeper to take his attention away from your lower bodies and simulatenously, you unzip his pants, feeling his bulge grow and threaten to burst from under his briefs. You massage it gratefully and tenderly as it squirms in your hands.

"Excited now, are we?" you purr at him, separating your lips from his while a link of saliva keeps the two of you connected. You kiss his nose.

"It's getting so big, why does it feel like it's bigger than my hand." You take one look underneath you and his angry pink tip is poking out his briefs at this point, pointing at you with desperation in its color.

"Oh, Sylus~"

"Enough now." Sylus snaps, suddenly rising from his position and gripping your hips to flip your positions. He greedily pulls down your panties and holds each of your legs in his robust hands to pin them close to your ears, letting your knees fall on his shoulders for some support with your dress riding up and bunching underneath your sore breasts.

He licks his lips as he eyes your leaking pussy.

"What is this?" He purrs back at you. "And you said I'm excited?" he plunges a finger into you as it makes a loud squelching noise, making your hands race to you hold his one hand in both of yours.

"W-wait."

"If you don't want this, I'll stop." He states darkly.

You blush and pout at him.

"I wanted the cock..."

Something clicks in Sylus' head as his eyes start gleaming with a rush of excitement.

"Getting greedy, aren't we?" He says, freeing his grown manhood from the confines of his boxers. He strokes it a few times to prep it for its grand entrance.

"Nghh.. hurry!" you squeal, trying to grab at his cock from your vulnerable position but he catches your hands mid-journey.

"Calm down." He grins at you, rubbing your slimy clit with his bulbous tip.

"I've waited enough." you tear up. "I've waited for days! For you to even look at me again."

"You really want it that bad kitten?" he asks, his expression twisting into one of pride as he towers over you.

"I want it, I want it so much. I want all of it!" you moan out as he pushes the tip inside your wet hole and brings it out, earning a whine from you.

"Hmm...?" he cocks his head to the side, continue to glide his tip over your clit as you fight the urge to squeeze your thighs together. You wouldn't be able to, when Sylus is holding your thighs next to your head and your hands in his tight one-handed grasp.

He uses the thumb of his other hand to rub circles on your clit while he swipes his tip up and down your nether lips, humming to himself. It feels so good, you feel a bubble grow inside your stomach.

"Oh god, I-" you gasp. But right before the bubble could burst, Sylus retracts himself completely and you widen your eyes at him.

"What did you just-"

"I don't know, kitten. Couldn't give you your high for free when you plan to marry someone else, now, can I?" he smirks at you as you tear up even more.

"N-no! Put it back!"

Sylus leans over and presses his tongue to your clit before your high can completely fade away.

"Yes! Yeah, like that!" you scream as flicks your sensitive nub and continues to hum, sending explosive pulsations throughout your nerves.

"Oh, oh! Sy-"

And then he retracts again.

This time, you fight against his grasp to grab his neck. But he's too big. Too strong.

He merely chuckles at your weak attempts to free yourself.

"Seriously, fuck you!" you screech at him. "Fuck you, Sylus."

"Ahaha, look at my angry little kitten. I love to tame you like this." He smiles at you with love but you just want him to fuck the brains out of you right now. You wriggle enough of your hand out of his grasp to start rubbing yourself but he is quick to notice.

"There, there." he pushes your hand back into his iron hold.

"Fine kitten, let me make sure you forget someone by the name of 'Caleb' even exists."

With that he finally puts his cock into your weeping hole, halfway. I-it won't fit just yet, earning an explosive gasp from you. Sylus cocks an eyebrow at you.

"T-too big." you manage to say.

"Oh, do I-"

"No!" you protest. "More. I want all of it. Put it all in. It's mine. Only mine."

"Look at you, sweetie. Sure you can take all of it? have my doubts." he teases but you are determined.

"I'm leaking all over the bed, now's the chance, Sy." you reassure him and with a smooth motion, he puts in his entire length into making you see the stars. It takes you a few seconds to come back to Earth when he finally starts moving. He's fully folded you into a mating press now, his sweat dripping onto your chest as he grunts and groans, his tip hitting your cervix at this point.

"More! I want more!" you say as if it was even possible to take in more but it just motivates Sylus to increase his pace and intensity. His wet hair now sticking to yours as he doubles down.

You feel your orgasm building up again with each powerful thrust of his.

"Remind me, who do you belong to?" he rasps, nearing his own high.

"That stupid fuckface. I'll bury him alive if I see hiim again."

"Sy-Sylus!" you scream, your insides tingling and your walls pulsating around his girth. "You! I only belong to you! I'm all yours!"

"That's right kitten." he growls. "You're only mine." with this he picks you up and place you onto his lap, pounding up into you hopelessly. With a near feral moan, you come undone on him and he follows after soon, shooting copious amounts of his seed right into you. The both of you rasp and gasp as you come down from your respective highs, pressing your foreheads together.

He doesn't pull out even when his cock goes soft and you smile sheepishly as you kiss his eyelids.

"My dragon. Only mine..."

You place a final kiss on his lips, chaste yet loving. Sylus looks at you like you're his entire world.

"If you pull this shit again baby." you warn him, keeping steady eye contact. "No sex for you for the next six months."

He gives you his signature smirk. "I'll just marry Caleb then." he says making you roll your eyes at him and punch his shoulder as the two of you giggle and pull the blanket over your heads.

[sungbites]

DREAMS COME TRUE ━ mark lee

pairing : mark x fem!reader. genre : fluff, est relationship, wedding, idk what else warnings : mentions of getting married synopsis : in which a dream of yours starts to become a reality thanks to your boyfriend wc : 1.3k a/n : i larb mark can anyone tell! to preface this is a reupload from my account @ pshbites, this is the original and it is my work. i only have these two accounts and if there is any other account impersonating me, it is not me.

here you stood, in front of all the people you held dear. to your right you had your bridesmaid and best friend, and further on in the front row were your parents. in front of you however was the love of your life, soulmate, other half, and everything in between. he looks at you with those doe eyes of his, those same eyes forming into crescents as he smiles and reaches for your hand.

the officiant stood between the two of you, reading out the typical things that were read during the wedding, but you weren’t paying attention. the only thing you could focus on was the man in front of you, smiling at you warmly. his smile could calm all of your nerves in an instant. “yn yln do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” the officiant broke you out of your thoughts. you look to him and then back at mark, who only smiles at you. “i do” you say, feeling your heart swell at the words alone. “and do you, mark lee, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” he turns to look at mark and suddenly every thought is popping in your head.

what if he said no? what if he suddenly regretted the thought of marrying you and abandoned you here in front of all your friends and family. two words break you out of your thoughts, “i do” he says, smiling and gripping your hand tighter. you smile as well, feeling a wave of emotions, you were married now, to the love of your life. “you may kiss the bride” the officiant says, now smiling at the two of you. mark begins to lean in, you as well, closing your eyes…

your eyes open to see marks chest. you look up at him, scrolling mindlessly on his phone. your eyes look around your all too familiar shared bedroom. It was all a dream. you weren’t getting married, hell you werent even engaged. it was all just a silly stupid dream. mark looked to you and smiled softly, setting his phone down. “good morning baby” he spoke raspily, that same rasp he always had in his voice in the mornings. you gave him a tight lipped smile, “morning” you mumbled back. 

the problem was that you knew mark would know something was up, the two of you had been together for 3 years now. so when you laid down next to him he turned his body to face you. “whats wrong?” he looked to you with those doe eyes, oh those eyes. you turned your head and sighed softly. “just a dream babe thats all” you replied back because what else could you say? how could you tell your boyfriend of 3 years that you were suddenly yearning for marriage after never mentioning it, all because of a stupid dream. 

“cmon tell me” he frowned slightly, hand moving up to stroke your hair. your cheeks turned pink, “its so dumb mark” you mumbled, making him smile and shake his head. “nothing you say is dumb baby, now tell me” he spoke softly, he always spoke so soft with you. it’s what made him so easy to talk to. “i had a dream we were getting married, like we were at the ceremony and all” you breathed out, looking at him expecting a big reaction.

instead he just smiled and giggled a little. “thats all?” he responded, making you furrow your brows. “what do you mean thats all” you reply, smiling softly now at the situation. “its normal baby, we’ve been together so long” he shrugs, as if getting married is just no big deal! he hadn’t even popped the question, how could he be so normal about this?

“you’re being weirdly normal about this babe” you said, inching closer to him so your head was now on his shoulder as he looked up at the ceiling. his arm went under your head to pull you closer to him, his hand on the small of your back now. you rested your head against his chest once again, hearing his heartbeat, making you smile. you always felt so much closer to him when the two of you laid like this.

“i mean at least i know you want to marry me” mark speaks up, breaking the silence between you two. you furrow your brows once more, “of course i want to marry you mark is that even a question” he looks down to you, smiling softly. “where would we get married then?” he said, smiling as he spoke. you could tell he was dying to have this conversation with you at some point. “would you want a destination wedding?” you rested your chin on his chest so you could look at him properly. “depends, i would go wherever you want me to baby” he smiled, making your cheeks turn a soft shade of pink. 

mark did that often, he would say something that would make your heart swell with love and just act like he never said it. you hummed, deep in thought trying to rack through the places you would want to be married. “maybe paris” you responded, earning a small giggle from mark. “ooo the city of love” he teased, making you laugh along with him. “cmon you would love to get married there wouldn’t you?” you responded, smiling whilst talking. your cheeks would always hurt with mark because of how much you smiled. 

“okay fine paris” he rolled his eyes teasingly, “what about the ceremony, private or big and grand” he asked and you hummed in thought once more. “i think we would both want it to be private right?” you furrowed your brows, making him nod. “obviously your family and mine, and some of our closest friends” he responded, as if already having a mental guest list. 

“what about the ring?” you tilt your head, making mark stroke your hair once again. his hand always had to be playing with your hair. “gold, you dont wear silver” he responded, quickly. “wow, im surprised you knew” you replied, rather sarcastically making him laugh. “i would get you any ring you wanted, just say the word” he replied, making you smile once more.

“yeah the real question is when are you proposing?” you scoffed amusingly. you shifted your position to lay your head back on his chest, his arm holding your waist. mark laid in silence for a couple minutes, clearly deep in thought. then he said a sentence that you didn’t think you would hear this morning. “i mean we could go pick a ring now?” 

you sat up almost immediately, mark looking up at you. “what?” you said, searching in his eyes for an answer. “we’re both off of work today.. so we could go” he said once more, smiling. you smiled even bigger. truth be told this wasn’t how you imagined your proposal to go, in bed with mark, legs intertwined, bodies meshed together as one, but for some reason it was perfect, beyond that really. 

you leaned closer to him, hugging him. smiling into the crook of his neck as he giggled like a lovestruck idiot. you pulled back, looking in his eyes. “is that a yes?” he smiled even bigger if that was possible and you nodded frantically, kissing his cheek all over then moving to his lips. the two of you locked lips, each time you kissed mark it felt like the first in the best way possible.

he smiled, his hand reached up to cup your cheek as your lips moved together slowly. this kiss felt so much more different than the others, like the two of you were holding back tears due to how happy you were. you pulled back, smiling down at him. “i love you” you mumbled, looking in his eyes. “i love you even more baby” he smiled back, sitting up to kiss your cheek. dreams really could come true. 

taglist : @kisseudoll @hyuckworld @lqfiles @cupidhoons @ronniee-26 @bywonyo @aerifim

dream taglist

© all rights to sungbites 2025. please do not copy, translate or repost my works

[matryosika]

Untitled #9

Wordcount — 1,618 words

Includes — Fem!reader, mentions of contraceptives, unprotected vaginal sex. Dubcon elements (but it is all explained in detail), mentions/fantasies of creampies, use of petnames (baby).

Author's note — Just a little something! I've had this thought for a while now, and I wanted to put it out there. Despite the dubcon elements of it, I really picture both parties being super into it with full consent —for this, the male character just puts up a fight because he considers things risky, but deep down he wants it just as bad. With that in mind, read this if you have no problem whatsoever with some dubcon. If it's not your cup of tea, just scroll!

Just thinking about a forced creampie with Chan.

He had been pretty vocal about how badly he wants to fuck you raw and come inside you, but the overly-reasonable, almost persecutory part of him doesn't let him get loose. Whenever he thinks about coming inside of you, he can't help but also overthink everything that could go wrong.

“Maybe I just need a little push, you know?” He told you right after you asked him what was stopping him from fulfilling his fantasies. “I tend to get too into my head, maybe I should just- I don't know, go for it in the heat of the moment”.

But even in the heat of the moment, Chan holds back. The amount of self-control he has is crazy, so as much as he wishes to get loose, he never manages to do so on his own.

You come up with a plan, but you first make sure that he is on the same page as you —that he wants this just as much as you. So you ask him just that, and the response you get is enough for you to proceed.

“I think about it at least twice a day,” Chan confessed. “I mean, not a day goes by without me thinking about how pretty your pussy would look leaking with my cum”.

So you start off slow —first, you convince him to fuck you without a condom, fully raw. He pulls out every fucking time, much against his lust's will, but you don't mind. At least not when you can now feel every inch of him, every thickness of his veins and the warmth of his bulge. And now, he gets to feel you too —like fully feel you. From your soft walls squeezing his dick, to the sticky arousal that drips out of you.

It doesn't take long for him to get addicted to that feeling, though —despite him “wanting to take things slow”, he soon becomes obsessed and the idea of using a condom ever again is discarded by Chan himself.

So it all starts off with fucking you raw, and it eventually ends up one night with you offering that much needed push to finally allow himself go.

You're on top of him, straddling his lap while his cock reaches the deepest spots inside your pussy. You can feel him twitching inside of you, and if that isn't enough confirmation that he is seconds away from coming, the grimaces of pain and pleasure along with the veins popping on his temple and neck definitely are.

His hands are bruising your hips pretty bad while he guides your movements on top of him —roughly grinding yourself against him, squeezing your walls to provide him with the stimulation he needs to come.

“Just like that,” he groans biting down his lower lip with furrowed eyebrows and eyes closed shut, “come on, fuck yourself on my cock just like that. Make me come”.

Coincidentally, you're trying to do just that. So when he bents his legs against the mattress, and his hands try to push your body away from his, you don't stop.

“Baby,” he groans out your name, whincing in pain the longer he tries to hold his orgasm back, “'m gonna- fuck, I'm close”.

You lean down over his body, placing chaste kisses along his jaw and neck, “give it to me, Chan”.

He squeezes his eyes shut, just as his body stiffens underneath yours, “move, baby”.

“Inside,” you whimper, shaking your head into the crook of his neck. “Come inside”.

Chan's back arches a little, just as he struggles to maneuver your body, but it's all useless —he doesn't have the strength to push you away, and he doesn't want to.

“No, baby,” Chan hisses, gripping your hips as rough as he can. “I can't- please, let me pull out”.

“Come on, Chan,” you plead into his ear, biting his earlobe while your walls clench around his girth, “I know you want to”.

He lets out a painful, exasperated groan in an attempt to hold back the pent up tension between his legs —you can see he is really trying his best not to come.

“Please,” you leave one last wet kiss on his neck before straightening up your body, going from grinding against his cock to fully bouncing on it, “please, come inside me. I need it”.

Chan swears he is going to lose his mind. Between the feeling of your cunt clenching around him, the sight of your pretty body bouncing on top of his, and the lewd words and moans that are leaving your lips, Chan is sure he isn't going to last any longer.

“Let me pull out,” he tells you once again, with no intention of ever wanting you to stop. At this point, Chan still puts up a fight because he doesn't want to give in too easily. But honestly, he is not interested in winning that fight whatsoever, “'m gonna come, baby”.

You press your hands against his chest and increase the pace of your movements, forcing his body underneath yours while caging it with your legs on each side of his body.

His face is flushed, and the painful grimaces and groans he lets out can only warn you that he might not resist any longer.

“Come for me,” you insist, digging your nails on the flesh of his chest, “please, fill me up”.

At one point, he just gives in to his dirtiest fantasies and carnal pleasures. Who is he to deny himself? You're begging for something that only he can give you, and he fucking will.

So the painful moans turn into primal ones, instictual and animalistic. He opens his eyes and stare at you, his hands going from your hips to your neck, choking you ever so slightly as you ride him to his high.

Not only that, but his hips start fucking into yours from underneath —if he is going to come inside you, he is going to have it his way. Meaning he is going to be the one in control, not you.

Your whole body trembles at the unexpected thrusts, and it doesn't take you long to feel a warm, almost hot sensation filling you up.

“You wanted me to come inside you?” He asks through gritted teeth, snapping his hips against yours while your whole body goes limp. Chan hugs you tightly in place, preventing his dick from sliding out of you, “you better not fucking waste it, then”.

He milks himself inside you with each thrust, letting out deep grunts of pleasure in between.

“Chan,” you gasp when you feel his cum oozing out of your pussy and around his cock, all while he is inside you, “fuck”.

Even after a few seconds, he feels he isn't done yet —he is still throbbing and pulsating inside your walls, and he just can't stop shooting his cum into you. This is the first time he comes like this, and it is as painful as it is pleasurable.

“It's dripping out of me,” you murmur when he finally slows down, looking down to where your bodies connect —it's messy, but neither of you can begin to care. At least not when it feels this good to be filled.

Chan lets out a deep exhale, his chest moving frantically as he tries to catch his breath. He feels defeated, and weak, but at the same time he can't wrap his head about how good it fucking felt to finally let go, to be able to fuck you full of his cum until it dripped out of your tight hole.

So much so, that the idea of pulling out and coming anywhere else it's just not an option any more.

And just like he got addicted to fucking you raw, he might be addicted to stuff you full of his cum now too.

He just needed a little push.

[ssentimentals]

im so glad that i found your blog, was looking for some wholesome texts with reader/seungcheol and yours are so nicely written, i enjoy them so much! thank you 🫶🏻 if i could leave a request, i'd love to read something where reader is a foreigner and some miscommunication happens but solved without much drama (with help of vernon or shua maybe). thank you for your blog once again!

awwww this is so cute!! thank you so much for your kind words anonie, i'm happy you're enjoying this blog <3 and of course you can leave a request, hopefully you'll like it!

seungcheol + foreigner!reader

no matter how hard he tried, seungcheol couldn't pinpoint how something so small escalated at rapid speed and turned into a full blown argument which left you both angry and offended. he can't even remember how it started, doesn't have any idea on what even caused you two to start arguing. the whole part of 'not seeing eye to eye' is generally an unfamiliar concept for your relationships, so seungcheol really has a hard time grasping the reality of you not talking to him. it hurts too bad, hurts much stronger than he expected; cheol knows that fights happen and that it's normal, but somehow he still thought that you two will be spared from this.

'she's not picking up?' vernon asks and seungcheol shakes his head. 'and she's not at home?'

'she's at the gym.' seungcheol answers. by this point he learned your schedule by heart. 'should be back home in thirty minutes or so.'

this is ridicilous. both the argument and his moping. cheol knew very well that coming from different cultural backgrounds will echo in the relationships dynamic one way or another: different past, upbringing, culture, language have a huge impact on the personalities and views. he was ready for some tension but you both settled into this relationship so smoothly that he honestly forgot about cultural differences. he should've known that they'll pop on in some way.

'go over it with me again.' seungcheol asks, sighing. 'from the scratch and make it logical, please. start with what i did wrong then move to why it was incorrect.'

vernon, god bless him, is not tired of explaining again. he was the first person seungcheol called to when all of this happened and his younger friend agreed to help readily. in a calm tone vernon helps seungcheol understand your angle, how his words that held no malice intent managed to come out wrong. 'it's not that big of a deal though,' vernon adds, seeing how seungcheol frowned even deeper. 'i mean, it's not ideal but like, it happens, it's okay. there's no way you could've known, so it's normal.'

'even so, it sucks.' seungcheol sighs, rubbing his eyes. he understands that you two just got a bit too emotional over everything, but he still feels a huge sense of guilt on his shoulders.

'i promise you it's not that big of a deal.' vernon reassures.

seungcheol nods. even if it's not that big of a deal having you not to talk him is the worst thing that could ever happen. he gets up, dusting his jeans off. vernon eyes him carefully and then smiles. 'you good?'

'yeah. gotta go and make it right.'

seungcheol waits for around ten minutes in front of your house when he notices your lonely figure in the distance. clad in your workout gear, he can see even from there that you're sulking, walking in a slow speed. without thinking twice, seungcheol runs to meet you, his legs carrying him faster than wind to your side. when you notice him you pause at first and he almost thinks that he is fucking up here too, but then you start running towards him and oh. oh.

'baby,' seungcheol breathes out, catching you when you throw yourself at him, wrapping your legs around his hips. with strong hands he stabilizes you, holding you securely close to his chest. 'baby, my baby.'

'cheollie,' you mutter, hugging him tight. 'i'm so-'

'no, shh,' seungcheol interrupts. 'it's me who's sorry, okay? i am sorry, i didn't know. i promise i didn't know-'

'i know!' you lean back and hit him lightly at the shoulder. 'let me finish! i know that you had no idea, cheol. i'm sorry for reacting the way i did.'

seungcheol breathes out in relief. he really got incredibly lucky with you, huh? 'i'd never say anything intentionally hurtful to you,' he promises sincerely, making you smile softly. 'never, baby. hurting you will hurt me more.'

'i know,' you whisper, leaning in until your foreheads touch. 'i know, cheol.'

'i love you,' seungcheol whispers. 'so much, babygirl. so much.'

you giggle and instead of answering, kiss him sweetly on the lips.

a/n: hope it was fine!! let me know what you think :') - nini

my other seventeen works are HERE

[kithtaehyung]

bet wrong (3tan717) | myg

drabble: bet wrong pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)  series: masterlist | three tangerines | 3tan717 | one  rating/genre: pg (18+) ; angst , fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: after seeing how comfortable yoongi is in his place with your brother and their friends, it’s hard for you to leave… but it’s also hard for you to stay. note: apologies for all the late postings! but kim yeji’s aura was so strong it made me write about her so here we are hahaha. it's not really edited cus i just wrote this up and posted so apologies for any mistakes! note 2: this is in a pocket universe in the three tangerines series, so if you haven’t read the series yet, these characters would make more sense if you did hehe. even though this is very heavily influenced by the olympics, i’m keeping it as easy to read as i can. you can imagine them watching any of the events happening lol warnings: 3tan yoongi as always, angst, olympics talk, yoongi fights back??, the Yearning is Strong, reader is a tease, shiv is back!, brother and jimin are dorks, but so is everyone else, yoongi on the phone, he's so down bad y'all i wanna cry :(( drop date: august 1st, 2024, 7:17pm est word count: 2.3k (just like the first drabble omg?)

—

—

“Hey, you made it!”

“Oh, shit, look who’s here!”

After a quick greeting to everyone in Yoongi’s living room, you slip off your shoes with a distracted, “I can’t stay long but, I’m here!”

Even though the handsome devil next to you shoots a look, it’s your brother that speaks up, “Wait, why?”

“I’m meeting my friends in a bit.” You hand a still-quiet Yoongi some snacks you brought for everyone, asking a question with a very obvious answer, “Where should I put these?”

He blinks before forcing out, “Over here.”

“K.”

Sounds of conversation and sports games spring about. Jimin’s clearly in some sort of squabble with your brother and Shiv is fanning the flames. There’s a couple guys you recognize but don’t really know talking on the opposite side of the coffee table, but they’re all watching the Olympics and giving their own comments. 

Hopefully it’s noisy enough to shroud your dizzying thoughts. Because Yoongi looks damn good in his casual fit and his hair speaks volumes. 

What you would give to run your fingers through those waves. Following him through his bustling apartment is already giving you the shivers, so what would a sudden touch feel like? A burst of fire?

“I’ll take those,” he instructs, taking the bags from you and pulling everything out with crinkles. When he sees a certain bag, his blinks make you giggle.

It’s a specific chip he likes, recently divulged during a long night of learning things about one another—like favorite foods, and how fast or slow he likes you riding. 

So of course you threw it in your basket before heading over. 

Commentators make conversation on the television as you shrug, “Don’t ask me, I dunno how those got in there.”

God, that smile always makes you melt. And he proceeds to turn you into mush as he shows gratitude under his breath,

“Thanks, doll.”

“Seriously, I think they just handed me those,” you joke, trying your best to not do any of the million and three things you want to. “Said I was cute or something.”

His laugh is immediate. But it’s shoved away by cheers and yells, and both of you pop out of the kitchen to see what happened on the tv.

Something big must have went down because even Yoongi reacts, scaring you with a delayed reaction,

“Holy shit, what happened? Sorry,” he immediately apologizes at your flinch, putting a daring but comforting hand on your lower back before making his way to the group.

Did he really just…

He is lucky your brother didn’t see from the other side of the couch. 

That was the boldest Yoongi’s ever been and he’s quite literally kissed you in your kitchen. 

“Yeji got silver.”

“What? Wait, run it back!”

“I thought she'd take it!"

Chill out. Relax, relax, relax. Everyone else is clearly entranced by whatever happened and no one is even looking at you. Relax.

But damn, that touch meant a lot more than an apology. 

Seems like the one vocally surprised at the replay wants to do a million and three things, too. 

On your emotional decrescendo, you scuttle back to grab a plastic cup. No use in trying to join them anyway. All you can do for now is get a drink in a kitchen you’re not supposed to know your way around.

Being in his place while your brother is too is quite the experience. 

However. 

This is absolutely the ideal situation you should be in. You would be the one showing up at Yoongi’s at the invitation of your brother, and it would be a small party where you blend right into the background with minimal interaction. 

But of course, the feelings of distance and guilt creep onto your feet, rooting you in place and forcing you to watch from afar. 

They’re all checking their phones and pointing at each other—accusingly? Excitedly?—before switching between different games on the tv and yelling at each other. 

And while you adore them for being such lovable geeks about this, your eyes cannot stop pinning Yoongi with longing. He’s so radiant doing the most normal things, and his eyes have that sparkle they get when he’s comfortable and at home. 

He’s perfect.

Your heart’s warm.

And the cup in your hand never touches your mouth.

—

—

After you take a seat at his dining table—yet another thing you should not know anything about—you cycle between watching them interact and scrolling on your apps. 

At first, you thought you were safe. Staying in the back and letting them have their own time together is good enough for you, especially since you were invited by your brother to stop by.

Really, you were just a courier for food they wanted. 

But it was on the way. And it’s a chance to see someone you’ve been missing.

So of course you faked reluctance to come.

The plan was to do exactly this. Hang back until you had to leave, maybe have a bite or two, and try hard not to yearn for Yoongi too long.

Failed step three.

But also now step one, because Shiv decides to twist around to yell, “Hey! Come join us!” 

“I’m good over here,” you reply, smiling when he gives you a look. 

“Suit yourself!” 

One of the guys you recognize but don’t really know gets off the couch to head into the kitchen, asking a question as he opens the fridge.

Wait, he’s asking you something? You?

You leave your chair so you can hear him better, and when he repeats his question you respond.

“Want a drink?”

“Oh, uhh. Sure.”

“Pick your poison. Yoongi doesn’t have much but it’s all strong.”

He’s pretty cute. But then again, all your brother’s friends seem to end up this way. “Water’s fine,” you say with a light smile. “I have to be somewhere else in a minute.”

“Leaving so soon?” He grabs a cup to fill with your choice before handing it over. Leaning against the same counter Yoongi has smushed you against many times, the man takes a sip of his beer. “You just got here.”

“I was told to bring food.”

“Ah, come on. You can stay a bit.”

Uh huh.

Bold choice to be flirting with the company present today.

But you know what to do. Swerve. “What even happened back there? You guys scared the shit outta me.”

From the creases of his eyes, your plan works. “Oh, Yeji? She was supposed to win gold.”

“Feel like she won anyway.”

You both snap your heads over to the kitchen threshold, and your stomach could win a floor routine with the amount of flips it completes. “How come?” You decide to ask, throwing both guys for a loop.

It’s Yoongi that responds first, “She’s trending from a video back in May.”

“Oh, shit, really?” 

“Fucking boss. But yeah, none of us got that one right,” his friend responds, which leaves you intrigued. 

“Got it right?”

“Mmhmm. We picked her for gold.” Glancing over at Yoongi now crossing between to get to his fridge, he claps his back. “Even this guy bet wrong and he’s usually right.”

“Bet with my heart,” your secret drones as he cracks open a bottle. 

“We all did, bro.”

Fucking hell, that move was hotter than it should’ve been.

But now you’re kinda invested in what they’re all doing, so you ask how the whole thing works.

Which leads you to sitting in the living room with everyone three whole minutes later.

“So all of these are events, and I pick what I think happens?”

“Yup!”

“Good luck.”

“Choose quick, the next games start soon.”

Everyone’s eyes are on your paper as you look at the options, with some laughs and comments as you circle your choices.

“Mm, I dunno about that one.”

“Hey, hey, no help.”

You glance at your brother and Yoongi before laughing, “I have no idea what I’m doing but this is fun.”

Their amusement is noticeable.

“If you get any of those right, I’ll be surprised,” your sibling teases, earning a laugh from Yoongi and a counterpoint from Jimin,

“Dark horse?”

“Nah, no chance.”

Park’s shoulders raise as he smirks. “It's all luck, you never know..”

Huffing, you pretend to have confidence for days, just happy that you get to be involved and not hang back like the initial plan. “Yeah, I have masterclass intuition, don’t you know?” 

Reactions pop and fizz around you.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Master class, huh..”

“We have a hustler here!”

Your eyes drift to Yoongi’s at Shiv's comment, and you both share a quick, mirth-filled, intimate stare.

This really is a lot more fun already. 

Your phone buzzing is the one thing that interrupts, and you immediately feel relieved and saddened by the fact that you have to go.

Finishing up, you hand your brother your picks before standing, heading to the door and saying that you have to leave. 

“Wait, already?”

“Tell them you’re busy!”

“I kinda want to,” you admit, feeling a little shy at all the eyes on you. “But we’re watching a movie and tickets are stupid expensive now.”

Yoongi’s already next to you as he waits to let you out. “You okay to drive?”

“Me? Oh, yeah, I just had water.”

“K.”

Why does he have to be so considerate right now? Now you just wanna stay here instead of sit through whatever movie your friends picked!

“Be careful,” your brother comments from the living room, and you wave goodbye.

“I will. Y’all have fun!”

“Okay!”

Facing Yoongi, you wanna do so many things. Hug him, hold him, kiss the shit out of him for his exuding presence in the kitchen earlier. 

“Thanks for the food.”

But you obviously can’t.

So you settle for giving him a smile. “Thanks for letting me come over,” you decide to say. “Have fun tonight.”

You get a small lift of his lips in return. “You, too.”

“Yeah.. I’ll try.”

Hearing sounds from outside as you walk to your car, you feel the loneliest imaginable. 

But alas.

It’s still not your place to stay.

—

—

Much, much later, you check your phone after the movie ends and you’re all walking out. While the girls are busy discussing the movie and Taehyung's checking his phone, you're greeted with two very surprising keystrokes.

Yoongi [9:30pm]: :( 

He texted that so long ago. Did something happen?

You [10:34pm]: you ok?

All of you talk for just a little longer. When you finally get into your car, you wave goodbye at everyone before looking at your device again, wondering what the heck warranted this rogue of a text.

Yoongi [10:40pm]: Yeah

Yoongi [10:40pm]: Just miss you

Well, fuck.

Heart clenching, your fingers skirt across the screen.

You [10:45pm]: i miss you too.. i didn’t wanna leave😭

Yoongi [10:45pm]: You did though😔

There are plenty of people in the lot. Many people walking past as you wait in your car. 

And all you can do is stare at your screen. 

Is… Is he drunk?

Yoongi [10:46pm]: So now you have to make it up to me :) 

That catches you so off-guard you scoff at your screen through a smile. 

You [10:46pm]: don’t be a loser!! 

Yoongi [10:46pm]: I’m your loser 

Cheeks hurting from your shy as hell grin, you bite your lip to keep your screams from alerting people in the nearby theatre. 

How dare this man be this bold when your brother is over there! 

If he’s gonna keep this shocking behavior up, who are you to not play into it? You fucking miss him and imagining being there and being yourselves—your true selves—makes your chest clench. 

You [10:46pm]: not today you weren’t :\

And now you have to make the drive to a house that no one's occupying.

This is so hard. So, so hard. 

But you have to keep going until that one day comes. If it ever does. The day you can do whatever you want with the man you’d fight the universe for? No one will know how to react, and frankly you don’t give a shit about that.

And then you wonder.

Does Yoongi feel the same?

Yoongi [10:48pm]: They're still here

Yoongi [10:48pm]: You down to come back?

Oh.

You are.

Yes, yes, yes you are.

Grateful eyes shut, forehead hitting your steering wheel and heart hurting but still burning lovingly.

There’s no fighting how desperately you want to see him. Especially after seeing him so happy earlier today. Of course you’re going to go. You’d cross mountains even if that meant you’d only get to see him from afar. 

Because—and this you know for sure—he would do the same. 

...But that doesn't mean you won't prank him just a little bit.

You [10:49pm]: don't bet on it w ur heart again💕

Buzzing with excitement, you start your car and pull out of the lot, calling your brother and letting him know you’re coming back.

“K! You gonna bring food again?”

Normally, you would say fuck no and hang up. But you’re so elated you get to go back, and imagining Yoongi's shock makes you laugh. “Yeah, yeah, what do y’all want?” 

“Wait, really? Hey! What do we want for dinner—”

“Wait!” You interject, something pinging into your mind and igniting your curiosity. “How are my picks doing?” 

There’s a scuffle on the line, and you can hear your brother complain, Jimin laugh, and a very, very familiar voice answer from your brother’s phone. 

Because Yoongi’s voice drones so beautifully through the speaker, and you can’t stop your cackling when he responds, 

“Turns out Jimin was right.” 

“Damn, I'm the best,” you boast, earning a loud laugh from him and welcoming the way your cheeks hurt with open arms. “Show me that video you were talking about when I get there?”

This is safe to say. It's all you really can say.

There's a little bit of silence before he answers how he can, too.

“Yeah, I will.” 

Mm. Maybe Yoongi does feel the same.

“Nice," you whisper. Lips curved up in hope, you keep your voice neutral, “See you soon!” 

Again, he responds how he's supposed to. And right after, you both hang up exactly as expected.

For now.

“See you soon.” 

—

—

—

fin. :)

-

how did the second 717 drabble go! | join the discord hehe | three tangerines

a/n: love you love you love you. that's really all i can say. but also, here's the video of kim yeji being an absolute badass in may and i cannot stop thinking about her GAHHHHHH and now the guy from turkey?? hello?? this year is so fun and interesting istg!!

[confessioncassette]

𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝟏𝟖+. 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

Part 1

“you and me alone in the dark, forever i stay, with you”

summary : after having a drug fueled revelation on his life, Thanos decided to create a private account. For weeks, this account was his sanctuary where he could “unplug” from the normalities of his life of partying. With no one to watch him, no one to make fun of what his interests were, he posted snippets of his daily life and created an algorithm that suited his secret interests. And one day, he had stumbled upon you.

tw : taking drugs, pinning, not proof read, reader knows little Korean

words : 5.7k

notes : this is a longer version of my drabble. In this specific AU (without the games), I wrote Thanos as someone who longs for a bond and needs someone to understand him on a deeper level. This maybe out of character juuuust a tad from him in the games, but this is what I feel like he would be as Choi Subong rather than Thanos.

“I tried this shit a while back and it’s wild, bro.”

Nam-Gyu sits cross legged on the floor before his friend, an outstretched hand pedestals two little colorful tablets in his palm. Thanos eyes widen, lips curling downward as he shifts over his tailbone.

“Don’t give me that shit,” the black haired man pushed the other playfully, “trust me, I wouldn’t give you this if I didn’t already know what it felt like. It was eye-opening, bro.”

Thanos shakes his head, “I don't know bro, I’ve never taken something like that before.”

Nam-Gyu clicks his tongue, “just trust me. I’m taking it with you.” His eyes shift to look at the ceiling, trying to find the right words. “It's similar to shrooms,” he muses, “Plus, I’m a good trip guide. I won’t let you do any crazy shit.”

Thanos stares at the colorful tablets laid before him, contemplating if this was a good idea. It’s not like he hasn’t tried this stuff before, or worse, but this was newer on the market and Nam-Gyu’s past of harder drugs doesn’t set his mind at ease.

“For real, you won’t end up in the street naked or anything. When I tried this a few months back, it literally saved me, bro. It was like, like uh, like I saw all the beauty in the world…” He paused sheepishly before adding, “or some shit.”

Nam-Gyu smiles, “look, I don’t do hard shit anymore, you know this.”

Which was true, Thanos thought. They’ve tried almost everything under the sun when it came to experimenting when they first met, with the exception of needles when it came to Thanos. When it came to trying newer drugs, Su-bong was extra cautious about them being laced. But, his friend is trying it with him, and he’s done it before… what could go wrong?

”This was the same batch you tried before?”

”Yeah, I saved these last two for just us.”

”I take just one?”

”Just one.”

The purple haired man takes a tablet with confidence and pops it in his mouth.

“Now let it dissolve over your tongue,” Nam-Gyu follows his friend by taking the tablet, which eases the other.

“How long will it take?” Thanos lets out a breath, sinking his back to the floor. His friend follows suit, flopping his body to the floor beside him to stare at the ceiling in Thanos’s high rise apartment.

“Won’t be long, bro. Just enjoy the ride.”

The lights in the apartment were already dim. The faint glow of purple LED lights and the twinkle of the night sky of Seoul made a soft atmosphere. The high was gradual but overwhelmingly apparent. Thanos’s body flooded with an initial rush of adrenaline, causing his body to buzz. Time felt all-being, fast as light but slow as molasses, and his body was just an anomaly between it all.

The emotions inside his mind bursted at the seams, exploding with undescribable love and admiration for life. The fleeting thought deep within his mind made him realize that he’s never truly felt appreciative of life before, but he chose to ignore it. How could he ignore the overwhelming excitement for living? This is beautiful. His friend was beautiful, his apartment was beautiful, these lights were mesmerizing.

He stared at Seoul’s skyline for what felt like hours, completely entranced in the way they sparkled. Neon lights flashing on billboards, the barely-there stars peeking through the city’s light pollution. Maybe one day he’ll see the night sky for real and count every star up there. How come he had never realized how beautiful the city was? The people in the street enjoying food, groups sticking together on a night out, a couple hugging each other in an intimate moment and forgetting the world around them.

He wanted to find love like this. Could this feeling be love? Is this what it felt like to appreciate everything he had been through? He had never felt this love with another human being before, but he can remember the last time he had felt love.

When he was a child, he loved to create. This mostly came through rapping and making music, but he also adored creating through drawing and painting. He loved to dance, he loved to express himself in any way possible through a form of art.

Maybe he had lacked this as he got older. With tough times and life experiences, he began to revert inside himself. In school, he got in with the wrong crowd, tried drugs and got hooked at a young age. He became rebellious, ultimately becoming the leader of the pack. He still created music, though, but it was the only mask he had. Rapping got him exclusive invitations to more popular crowds. He had spiraled and partied regularly before it became a lifestyle.

A new girl every night and waking up with regret, on a vicious cycle of drugs and alcohol, partying way past sunrise and waking up just when the sun began to set.

Was he proud of it? He’s lived this life for too long to remember, so he couldn’t tell.

Did he even have his own conscious? Did his lifestyle dull his senses to what really matters? He can’t tell.

All he could feel was right now, this moment in the lick of time. And time was fleeting.

-

Choi Su-bong woke up the next night alone on his couch. He blinked, once, twice before reaching for his phone on the floor beside him. Cringing at the bright screen and scrolling through notifications, Nam-Gyu had left a text a few hours ago.

남규 🙈 (4:14 pm) : I left earlier to make an appointment. I checked on u before i left to make sure ur alive lol i also locked the door. Txt me when you wake

Sighing and rolling on his back, Su-bong sent a response to notify that he was okay before switching apps.

Instagram was his first choice, per usual, and he was immediately flooded with his fellow idols and influencer ‘friends’' posts. Flashy cars, luxurious dinners, lavish outfits that cost hundreds of dollars… it was always the same. He swallowed, noticing his mouth withered before discarding his phone once again over the fur carpet.

It was Friday night, the start to a weekend, where he would usually get up to shower and head out to the high scale clubs to meet with friends. But tonight he only hopped in the shower to cleanse himself and threw on a hoodie and sweats, because he cringed at the thought of doing anything else.

Sitting alone on his plush couch, tv faintly glowing in the back, he racked his brain on his experience from yesterday. It’s actually surprising that he didn’t feel the effects still. It must have been a short term high.

Though short term, it had lasting effects on his system. His thought process tonight was completely different from normal. No doom scrolling, waking up craving immediate numbness or even hungover. Maybe it was time for a wake up call, and this was what he needed. And to think that he was hesitant at first to take them.

He was tired of the surface level relationships and everything that came with that. His entire adult life had been a blur, a ticking time bomb with fleeting memories. Sure, times were fun, but waking up each day feeling like his body got pummeled by a train wasn’t…fun.

He missed art. He missed making music that came from his heart. He missed creating. Not this senselessness that made him fit in.

Pulling out his phone, Su-bong’s slender fingers tapped along the screen.

Create a new account

The blue letters stared back at him, and he was eager to press. Pursing his lips, he contemplates a new name. And why was thinking of anything original so hard right now? It felt like a ghostly pressure, but this was his first choice he’s consciously made in years. Was it really that hard?

He lets out an airy laugh, “shibal.”

Pattering his colorful fingernails along the screen, he came up with Mystic_Legend.

Was it original to his persona? No. But he liked it that way. It was a little ode to himself, but honoring his attachment.

He kept the profile blank for now, not opting to add a profile picture.

This was a clean slate. The explore page filled with vacation pictures of palm trees next to private pools, someone cooking a healthy meal for their family, a few memes - but what caught his attention was a beautiful art piece hung along a blank wall.

What he could perceive as a skinless torso without the flesh, unmasked and slimy twisting up like a tornado. Brilliant hues of blue and dusty grey explode through the top like a cloud exploding and expanding. Thanos was mesmerized by the painting. He’d never seen anything like this before.

His whole body stalled as his eyes scan every detail of the picture for a while. His mind races with thoughts of what could this be? What was the artist interpreting?

But maybe it wasn’t up for interpretation, maybe it was to feel.

What he felt was a tainted soul blossoming into something new.

This was a deep connection, a coincidence to a new path of life.

A beginning.

-

Su-bong spent less time on social media in the following weeks. From what used to be entertaining fans through comments, responding to DM’s, collaborating with other big artists and liking videos of his appearances and shows to spending most of his time on his burner account.

He had grown an algorithm catered to interests long forgotten and had followed things that genuinely interested him. From thousands of followers to zero, from following a few hundred to 13. It was refreshing, to Su-bong. Something he had needed.

No followers didn’t stop him from posting his daily routine. It was rather fun, actually. Posting things that he was doing without having thousands of people watching his every move. It felt more invigorating to post things that were out of his online persona.

An americano from the cafe down the street, his weights at the gym, his record collection, his at-home studio setup, a new pair of shoes he just bought, a colorful sunset from his apartment, a video of him filming the Han River as he went on a run.

He found a new love in posting things that caught his eye, a new love for things he didn’t really see before.

Nam-Gyu was always around, too. Like usual, he’d stop by the apartment to share a drink or smoke a blunt. The two would watch movies and order take out every few days, leaving Nam-Gyu to pass out on the couch for the night. The bond they shared was always special in regards to the fakeness of the crowd Thanos hung around, so it was natural and comfortable keeping him close.

Though, he’d never share the burner account. That was solely his.

Thanos would still keep a presence online through his main account, but not as much. Fans would ask if things were okay on his posts, but he never responded to those. He did his tasks led by management and kept his social life relatively strong to cause any other suspicion.

However, he did loosen the reins on making appearances. In a span of 2 weeks, he didn’t show up to any night clubs or perform at any shows, much to his managers' dislike. However, he continued to make music, music like he’s never created before.

His new routine would be spending hours in his guest bedroom/home studio making music from his soul. Raps about love and heartbreak, about a life he feels like he’d never lived. Raps about living vicariously through movies, how he longs for companionship but can’t seem to allow himself. Raw emotions would flow, allowing himself to set in a new territory of his mind and heart.

It was like therapy. Years of burden lifted off his shoulder poured into his music. Sometimes angry and intense, spitting painful memories and emotions through the mic - and others loving and soft, thoughtful for genuine affection.

Choi Su-bong felt at ease for the first time since he was a child.

Nestled in his king bed, damp hair draping over his brow, he scrolled through his explore page.

A beautiful face he had scrolled past.

Scrolling back up, he tapped on your picture with lightning speed.

A simple photo, but unremarkable. You posed in a simple dress that accentuated your body modestly, holding the phone up to take a selfie in a park.

Officially 1 month in Seoul!

Seoul? You’re here?

Swiping to your profile, he noticed that you didn’t have much. With only following barely over a hundred people and less than 40 followers, you were an anomaly.

You didn’t even have a caption, just a simple text heart emoji under your name.

Your profile had only 12 photos and 2 of which were you. The rest had been photos of your adventures. A photo of a record store, good food you had tried here in Korea, and pictures of landscapes.

Thanos eagerly tapped on the second photo of you.

You were in bed, phone angled high to capture your beauty with flash, holding a plush animal.

I rewarded myself with a friend today

Su-bong swelled, grinning to himself. The plushie you had looked soft, tuffs of its fur touching your cheek as you smiled sweetly back at him. Scrolling down, he found your first post of an airplane illuminated under airport lights.

Today, I start fresh. I’m nervous. #movingtokorea

Checking the date, you had posted this 2 months ago. You must have moved here recently and are living in the same city as him.

Running slender fingers through his hair, Su-Bong considered interacting with you or not. He had scrolled up to see your face at least a dozen times, practically stalking your entire page. Unable to control his emotions, Thanos buzzed with adrenaline.

He’s made the first move countless of times, but not in a… specific way like this. He never had a problem getting the girl he desired for the night, and he never had to try hard at that. This was a completely different situation.

He didn’t want that type of relationship with you. He felt it reverberating deep within his bones. He wanted more than that. Looking through the screen into your eyes marked him in a way he could never describe in words. It was a pulling, a chain that linked and locked with a click deep in his soul.

One message couldn’t hurt? Right? You didn’t even know who he was, or what society had written about him. You didn’t know his past, his current or even his name.

Would it be weird sending you a message? He doesn’t think he could even cope with being left on read by you.

This was fate, this was more than limerence - it was affinity.

-

You sigh, plopping yourself over your couch and covering yourself with a blanket.

Your apartment was small and barren. It was nothing to look at, but it was home. Little trinkets line your bookshelf in the corner of your living room glow under the tv’s light. Scrolling through your apps, you select a comfort show from your childhood and unwind.

Starting a new life in Seoul wasn’t on your bingo card a year ago, but you had made the rash decision for a job with decent pay. You had never left home, so why not take an adventure to see if you could do it? The best part of all of this was that you always had the decision to move back, or move somewhere else completely.

It was beginning to feel like home, though. It was the perfect amount of space you needed and the environment was a perfect mix of introverted activities and extroverted. You had the freedom to become a hermit, but also had the option to go out if you so please. You lived in a part of the city where you could walk to work, dine and drink down the street. You also lived in an area close to bars if you ever felt the need to socialize.

It was beginning to feel like home after 2 months. Your job was easy to follow, despite you not being an expert in Korean. The people were nice, though they were curious and stared. You stuck out like a sore thumb with your demeanor, but you were becoming accustomed quickly, better than you thought you would.

You should be going out tonight, but you don’t feel ready yet. You should be getting dolled up to enjoy a night of fun, but… this was fun for now. Cuddled up in your cozy apartment after a long week at work.

The tv muffled in the background as you stared out your window, appreciating the skyline.

Your phone buzzes against your tight, drawing you from your thoughts.

Mystic_Legend wants to send you a message

Your brow furrows at the notification, but you’re anxious to see the message. You had little to no lies from your home country, and no one knew you here in Korea. Must be a bot.

Mystic_Legend (9:56 pm) : 나는 당신의 사진을 좋아합니다

You blink, staring at the message in curiosity. Pulling up google on your phone you translate the sentence.

I like your photo

“Weird,” you mumble.

Another instagram notification pops up on your screen and you tap it.

Mystic_Legend (9:57 pm) : 최근에 한국에 도착 했나요? 당신은 그것을 좋아합니까?

Have you arrived in Korea recently? Do you like it?

Uneasiness bubbles within your gut. Wasn’t your profile private? You tap around your screen to double check - and it wasn’t. Curiosity got the best of you and you tap the users profile.

20 posts, 13 following and… zero followers.

An anomaly.

Scrolling through the users posts, you find random things. A pair of new shoes, a video of a hooded figure with his back turned to the camera playing on a soundboard, a picture of the person’s outfit, hat covered with a beanie and phone conveniently covering his face in the mirror. Filtering through more posts, you find the Seoul skyline at night, a deck of cards littering a coffee table, gym equipment and landscape photos.

“What the,” you sigh under your breath before another notification pops over the top of your screen.

Mystic_Legend (10:01 pm) : I’m sorry. I should have written in English.

Mystic_Legend (10:01 pm) : I like your photos. Did you recently move to Korea?

Your fingers hesitate before swiping across the screen to accept the messages.

You (10:02 pm) : Do I know you?

A typing bubble appears before disappearing for a few moments.

Mystic_Legend (10:03 pm) : No, I found you on explore page

Ahh, it clicked. But you won’t tell a stranger sensitive information, the whole situation is weird in the first place. You were hesitant to even respond, leaving the message on read while you stared at the screen.

Mystic_Legend (10:04 pm) : I’m Su-bong. Not a creep, I promise.

You (10:04 pm) : Nice to meet you. Thank you for liking my pictures.

Keeping it short and sweet, you lock your phone, hoping to leave the conversation at that, but your phone vibrates not once, but twice.

Mystic_Legend has followed you

Mystic_Legend (10:06 pm) : I could help you speak Korean, if you don’t know

You contemplate the message, looking at it on your Home Screen. You could use the help with your job and navigating the city. It wouldn’t hurt, right? You could have a native speaker help and just keep it at that. Just for the knowledge, of course. Keep it surface level.

You (10:07 pm) : That helps me, actually.

Mystic_Legend (10:07 pm) : Cool. 😎

Mystic_Legend (10:07 pm) : Maybe we could call?

You (10:08 pm) : Not tonight, it’s pretty late.

Mystic_Legend (10:09 pm) : That is okay, get your rest. We can speak tomorrow?

You (10:10 pm) : Sure.

Seen 10:10pm

You left it at that, and the stranger does too. You get ready for bed shortly after that, confused as to how anyone would even find you on the explore page. You weren’t a big account at all and hardly interacted with content on the app, so what had led to the discovery of your profile?

You did have similar interests, but that couldn’t be the only reason for him to message you.

Before closing your eyes, you tap the instagram application and go to the strangers profile and press follow.

-

It caused Su-bong physical pain to let you go to bed. He wanted to message you more, all night if he could. But you had agreed to a call tomorrow, and he was reeling with adrenaline.

Scanning over your photos in his darkened room overlooking the city lights, he couldn’t keep his gaze off the picture of you in the park. Turning over to lay on his side, a strangeness swells within his chest. It must have been stupid, only a virgin could react so strongly just by pictures and dry messages.

But something had told him this was everything he had been missing. Not ever had he looked at a girl with such a sweetness. He’d hooked up with models, influencers and everything in between, although not remembering most of the nights. He’d share hot kisses with wet tongues in night clubs, inviting high class women to his place to experiment something new, had intense sex fueled by molly, and even bent women over in grimy bathrooms.

This was not new to him, picking up women and getting what he wanted.

But the purity was.

Something swam in your eyes, mesmerizing him in a daze. Something fueled him to keep pushing, to dig deeper as to where this stems from.

You are beautiful, elegant and ethereal actually.

He’d hate himself forever if he didn’t try.

The buzz of a notification almost sends his heart leaping out of his chest to find that you had followed him back.

-

You didn’t hear from the stranger, or Su-bong overnight. To your conflicting disappointment, he wasn’t in the pile of notifications when you woke.

Something pulled you in. Men now-a-days have a large following, or a large number of who they follow. You didn’t mull this over to its extent last night, but when you checked his following, it was all art, photography and music accounts… all 13 of them. He didn’t have a profile picture, but the same silhouette showed continuously through his posts.

He didn’t have any followers, and this led you to think this was a secret account. Maybe he had a girlfriend to hide… but honestly that wouldn’t make sense, because if he were to hide an account, wouldn’t he be following girls? At least one? But the only one was you.

And you were now his only follower.

It seemed like a simple account, purely made for enjoyment. Social media is used for that sort of thing anyways, right? You shake your head, reminding yourself that not every man is out to get you. Not every stranger is here to hurt you.

It’s not that big of a deal, and you shouldn’t even be bothering yourself with it.

So you opt to forget about it and carry on with your day.

Saturday - a day to catch up after the work week and do whatever you want to do. So, you do. You work out, shower and make your way to the little cafe down the street to catch a light breakfast and coffee.

Sitting down at an empty table near the window to people watch, your phone buzzes over the table.

Mystic_Legend (10:01 am) : Good morning

Bzzzzt

Mystic_Legend sent a photo

You practically leap from your seat to snatch your phone, a rush of adrenaline courses through your veins. You pray to god that this doesn’t go south, please for the love of god do not be an unsolicited dick pic.

Preparing yourself with a breath, you go to his message embarrassingly fast and tap on the photo.

You squint before opening, as if to allow yourself to be a victim of a terrible sight, but to your delight, the picture opened to a pair of pristine white sneakers next to some weights.

Mystic_Legend (10:03 am) : I am hitting the gym this morning. I hope you slept well.

You (10:04 am) : I beat you to it, I already worked out today. I am getting breakfast.

Sending a picture back can’t do any harm, right? Angling your phone over your food and coffee, you snap a picture and send it.

Mystic_Legend (10:06 am) : Looks good

Mystic_Legend (10:06 am) : What are your plans today?

Mystic_Legend (10:07 am) : I am excited to call, let me know when you are ready.

You purse your lips, blushing at the thought of having a phone call with a stranger. This was unhinged right? No one in their right mind would be doing this… right? Why did your heart flutter with every message he sent?

It’s literally a blank profile.

You tap on his account and scroll down to the photo of him in a mirror. The purple beanie covers his hair and the phone covers most of his face. The hoodie he wears is black with neon coloring and you can’t see past his waist. The one eye you do see, gives a glimpse, a sliver, that who you are talking to is a real person.

You (10:10 am) : I have to run errands today, but I will text you when I am home

The chat bubble lifts above the keyboard, then disappears. You await his response in silence.

Mystic_Legend (10:11 am) : I will wait for you.

An… odd message, you blink. Maybe even sweet… but you don’t know the customs and courtesies of Korean culture enough to have a real judgement. All you need to worry about is finishing your errands and chores before a phone call with a stranger.

-

Flicking the light to your apartment on and dumping your grocery bags on the counter, you stretch.

A day out was just what you needed, and the weather was perfect to walk around in, but damn do your feet ache. Slipping off your shoes by the door, you begin doing your final task of the day.

You barely put the egg carton in your fridge before you hear your phone buzz from the counter. Padding your feet over to your phone, sits another photo message from mystic_legend.

Tilting your head, you open the photo.

An outstretched hand gingerly caresses a wine glass halfway filled with a deep red in front of a kitchen counter.

Mystic_Legend (8:00 pm) : I hope you had a good day.

You (8:00 pm) : Sorry it is so late, I met up with a coworker for dinner.

You cringe at your apology, it’s not like he deserved one. But it was true. Your coworker saw you shopping at a local store and asked if you’d be down to have drinks and food. You couldn’t say no, especially since you have no friends. And this coworker is also a foreigner, so it works out in terms of no language barriers. But you did have plans to call with him, so maybe you felt the need to mention that?

You (8:01 pm) : Is that red wine?

Mystic_Legend (8:01 pm) : Yes. I like this one.

Mystic_Legend sent a photo

You open the photo to see an exquisite bottle of red with the label in French.

You (8:03 pm) : Looks expensive, are you rich?

Mystic_Legend (8:04 pm) : It was a gift.

You (8:05 pm) : I will call soon, I need to finish cleaning up and shower

Mystic_Legend hearted your message but said nothing else.

You freshen up after a long day, letting the hot water cascade down your back. Rubbing your shoulders to ease the tension, your mind wanders.

Was this a trick? Was he a creep? How could you be so naive in trusting a complete stranger? It was weird, what you were doing.

But in reality, you are lonely. Making this move was huge for you and your confidence. You’ve never ventured out like this before. You are a big girl, you don’t need to explain your reasons for making friends. You are completely on your own, working in a completely new country, and doing good at it.

You’re not tied down by anything but yourself, so why was it hard to accept the fact that this was a little unconventional?

You’ve tried dating apps in the past- you physically cringe forcing yourself to stop your thought process. Shrugging your shoulders against the water in a visceral reaction, you shake off the thought. This guy is not an interest, why were you thinking it was? Instagram is not an app to date.

Even so, he had never asked anything other than to talk to you. You’ve had guys in the past ask for nudes almost immediately. You’ve had guys thirsting over you in such an icky way that it completely turned you off.

But…

You lean your head back into the waterfall and puff your cheeks.

He hasn’t done that.

You couldn’t help by think of all the reason why. Why he had messaged. Was it a cover? He could be a complete fuck-boy underneath it all and he’s just grabbing your attention.

What if he isn’t even real. What if he’s some mama’s boy living in a dingy basement?

You groan, anticipation swelling deep in your belly. You feel like you might be sick at the thought of a measly voice call.

You can’t help that it excites you.

-

Silk pajamas caress your skin and the plush comforter of your bed warms your senses as you whip out your phone and settle yourself in a comfortable position.

Your finger lingers over the phone symbol next to the strangers name… and you can’t do it.

You (11:01 pm) : I’m ready

WIthin seconds, like he really was awaiting your message, your phone screen illuminates with a voice call.

Your body tenses at the mere sight and you suck in a breath, hitting accept.

“Hello?”

“Annyeonghaseyo,” he calls, his voice low and smooth like honey. You melt at the slow infliction of his tone.

“Oh- annyeong-“ You stutter, but he doesn’t react. “How are you?” You try to hold it together to keep your voice from shaking, praying that he doesn’t notice. Your poor Korean could be embarrassing to him.

“That was good,” he comments before proceeding, “I am good now. I told you I would wait for you.”

The more he spoke, the more you caught on to his thick accent. It wasn’t perfect. But you didn’t care, you understood him just fine.

You give an airy laugh, “you did.”

”What did you do today?”

You hum. “I worked out, went to lunch… I went shopping and met up with a coworker of mine for dinner. It was nice. What did you do today?”

He hums in response.

“One second-“ he says, followed by quick tapping on his screen. After a moment, he begins to speak again.

“I worked out too. I had chest day. Then I made music.”

“Music?”

“Yes,” he pauses, “I like to make music.”

”Is that why you post pictures of you in a studio?”

“Yes,” the tapping on his phone is rapid now, “I have my own studio in my house.”

”That’s so cool! I’d like to hear your music…”

The stranger was silent on the other line.

”Maybe.”

“Okay, well no pressure. I don’t like to show anyone my personal stuff either.” You opt to keep the conversation light.

He hums in agreement.

“Why did you come to Korea?”

You shift under your covers, thinking of a response.

“I… just needed a new start. I wanted to see what I could accomplish.” Is what you ended up with.

He hums again, slow and low, taking a moment to respond.

“I understand. I have lived here my entire life. I always wanted to travel, that is good that you did.”

You laugh, “it was scary at first, moving to a new country and all…”

”I could tell you all the best spots around here.”

”I’d like that, I’m still getting used to it.” You turn your head to look at the moon outside your window.

”Do you remember my name?” He questions.

”Su-Bong.” You respond quietly.

”Yes, I’d like to know yours.”

You swallow, internally battling yourself with how to respond. You don’t want to give him your real name in the means of safety. But he did give you his.

“Is that actually your name?”

“Of course, why would I lie?” His accent was thick and questioning, low in bass. It rang so nicely through your ears. His infliction doesn’t waver, and it draws you in.

You slowly said your own name, giving him the benefit of the doubt. It was just a name after all, and he had already known what you looked like.

He repeated your name quietly, like he savored it on his tongue. His deep voice electrified your nerves in a way you’ve never experienced, triggering your body to grow hot in embarrassment.

“Beautiful name,” was all he said.

You sheepishly give thanks before yawning.

“Are you tired?”

Your eyelids grow heavy to the sound of his voice. “I am.”

”I will let you go to sleep, can we talk tomorrow?”

You wait a moment to respond as your heart flutters in response to him.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

”Okay,” he whispers, “an nyeong hi ju mu se yo.”

”Goodnight, Su-Bong.”

-

Thanos hung up the phone almost too quickly, but not because he wanted to leave the conversation, but because he needed to let out a breath he had been holding.

Your voice was sweet and calming. It had lulled his system like waves of the ocean.

Running his fingers through his hair his eyes dart around the room and curses under his breath.

You’d definitely be the death of him.

[scary-grace]

hands-off, hands-on - a shigaraki x f!reader fic

This was inspired by this art and a comment left on it about the risks of trying to jerk off with a quirk like Decay. It was also inspired by @obsessedtomone and @scarlettcryptid, who encouraged me to write it and then to post it. The pun in the title was my idea and not their fault.

Shigaraki's quirk makes life difficult in a lot of ways, but there's only one he can't find a way around, and since you joined the League of Villains, it's gotten even worse. When the truth comes out at last, he's expecting it to be a disaster and nothing else. He definitely isn't expecting you to offer to help. (cross-posted to Ao3) Canonverse, one-shot, smut.

Shigaraki Tomura’s quirk is everything to him. It’s how he found himself alone in the world as a five-year-old, even if he can’t remember the details. It’s why Sensei took an interest in him, why Sensei took him in, why Sensei chose him to carry on his work. It’s the perfect tool for someone like Shigaraki, who hates everything, who wants nothing more than to destroy everything he doesn’t like. Decay is the best thing that’s ever happened to Shigaraki. And at the same time, it absolutely, categorically sucks.

Shigaraki might hate everything, but he doesn’t hate it all the time, and the times when he doesn’t hate it are times when he’d love to be able to just have whatever it is without being one wrong move away from ruining it. Name a thing he likes, and his quirk is ready and waiting to fuck it up – gaming, eating, sleeping, even reading the fucking newspaper. He can do all those things four-fingered, if he stays focused. It’s the stuff he can’t stay focused on that’s impossible.

He can’t stay focused when he’s horny, at least not enough to keep from potentially Decaying his dick off. Shigaraki doesn’t actually know if his quirk works on himself, and he’s not interested in finding out. And that means that no matter how horny Shigaraki gets or how many poorly timed boners he pops, jerking off is permanently off the table.

That’s not to say Shigaraki’s never finished. He has. He’s spent so much time humping pillows that he had to learn to do his own laundry. But there’s something really pathetic about being twenty years old with two working hands and still be stuck grinding on a pillow to make himself come, and it always takes so stupidly long. Now that Shigaraki’s got the League of Villains, now that he’s got plans to make and Sensei’s legacy to fulfill, he doesn’t have that kind of time. When he wakes up with the world’s worst morning wood after a dream he doesn’t remember clearly, there’s nothing he can do but wait for it to go away.

It fades – enough – but the feeling doesn’t, and eventually Shigaraki doesn’t have a choice but to drag himself out of bed. He slinks from his room to the bar, hoping it’ll be empty, with the rest of the League out and about preparing for the mission and Kurogiri somewhere nearby if Shigaraki needs him but not actually right there to ask him what’s bothering him. Shigaraki can pour his own drinks. Maybe he can get out of this if he gives himself whiskey dick on purpose. Kurogiri’s not in the bar, just like he was hoping, but it’s not empty, either. You’re there, sprawled out over the bar with a sweating glass of water on a coaster in front of you.

Shigaraki’s jaw clenches at the sight. “What are you doing here?” he demands, and you look up. “Don’t you have something to do?”

“I did it already.” You yawn. “Using my quirk tires me out.”

“Really?” Shigaraki can’t keep the irritation out of his voice. “Making people stupid is that exhausting?”

Your quirk is a weird one. It lets you increase or decrease a target’s ability to plan, reason, problem-solve, remember things, and learn – in other words, their intelligence. “From this distance, for as many people as you need me to hit?” You yawn again and drop your head back down to the bar. “Yeah. Remember, I have to keep them all being stupid the same way, right up until it’s too late. Or your plan won’t work.”

Shigaraki had the pieces of the plan before he made you use your quirk on him, but once you used the quirk on him, he did some fine-tuning on the strategy, and he came up with the idea of using your quirk the opposite way, too. While the rest of the League is planning to make the attack on UA’s summer training camp a success, you’re using your quirk every day on the heroes in charge of planning the camp itself. Shigaraki’s not actually going to know if it works until after the attack, and that pisses him off. “Go nap somewhere else, then.”

“I’m not going to bother you,” you say. “Where else am I supposed to go, anyway? Your room?”

Shigaraki’s this close to saying yes, just to get you to leave, before he remembers what his room looks like – and remembers that he spent a while trying to see if grinding one out would work this time. He can’t kick you out of the hideout. You look like shit, and you’ll attract a lot of attention. “Fine. Shut up.”

“Yep.” You fold your arms on the bar and rest your head on them, shutting your eyes.

Even when you aren’t looking at him or talking, your presence bothers Shigaraki. It’s bothered him since the beginning – as much as he’s bothered by the others, in a different way than he’s bothered by the others. While the others can at least manage to avoid pissing Shigaraki off, there’s nothing you do that doesn’t cause some kind of problem. If you’re talking to him too much, he’s annoyed because he doesn’t know why you’re talking to him. If you’re not talking to him, he’s pissed about that, too. If you’re not around, he’s mad that you’re avoiding him, and if you are around, he wishes you weren’t. The fact that you’re here was a big problem for him even before he started having the dreams.

Shigaraki can’t remember the details of last night’s dream, but he knows you were in it. He pours himself a drink, takes the bottle with him, and sits down at the far end of the bar from you. You don’t look up again, and Shigaraki finishes his first drink, then half of his second, with no improvement on the situation. He shifts on the barstool, trying to get more comfortable. He needs to find something else to do. Something that will distract him from how stupidly horny he is.

You’re right there, and being irritated with you for doing anything at all is as good a distraction as anything else. “If all you’re doing is making a couple of heroes slightly dumber, you’re not really pulling your weight, are you?”

You don’t stir, but Shigaraki sees your shoulders stiffen. “What else should I be doing?”

“More,” Shigaraki says. You lift your head to look at him dead on, and Shigaraki hates that so much that he loses his train of thought for a second. “I don’t want them slightly dumber. I want them so stupid they can’t walk in a straight line. You have to get closer to them for that? So get closer. Get out of here and –”

“If I make them that stupid, the heroes will know that something’s wrong,” you interrupt. “My quirk’s in the government databases. If I do anything too obvious, they’ll know I’m working with you, and they’ll change their plans. Or they’ll change who they’re using to execute those plans. For my quirk to work on someone, I need to know who they are.”

Shigaraki knows how your quirk works. He’s not stupid. “I could do what you want me to do, but it would ruin your plans,” you say. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I wanted to take a nap,” you say. You sit up straight on your stool, get to your feet and start towards Shigaraki. “Now I want to know what I did to piss you off.”

You’re coming closer. Shigaraki feels a surge of panic. “Get away from me.”

“No.” You sit down one barstool away from Shigaraki, but still way too close for comfort. Shigaraki’s skin feels hot, and in spite of the fact that he left his room wearing sweatpants, they’re getting tight. “You let me join the League, but ever since I got here, I can’t do anything right. You’re mad at me all the time, and today you’re even madder than usual.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” you say. You keep staring. Shigaraki looks away, and you say the first thing he’s ever heard you say that makes you sound like a villain. “Either you can tell me the truth, or I’ll use my quirk on myself and figure it out.”

Shigaraki’s stomach lurches. “I thought you were too tired to use your quirk.”

“Not on myself,” you say. Shigaraki glances back at you. You’re almost smiling. He’s seen you smile before, talking to Toga or Magne, but not like that. “You can tell me, or I’ll find out on my own. Your choice.”

You’re not screwing around. Shigaraki thinks fast. He could Decay you, but – Shigaraki writes off the thought before he can even complete it. He has to tell you something, and it has to be convincing. But he doesn’t have to tell you everything to keep you from using your quirk. It’s going to be humiliating, but nowhere close to as humiliating as the whole truth, and he opens his mouth and spits it out. “I’m horny.”

You blink. “So jerk off.”

“I can’t.” Shigaraki sees your eyebrows lift, skeptical as hell, and loses patience, even as his face heats up. “My quirk. Anything I touch with five fingers –”

“And you can’t jerk off without –” You break off mid-question, looking just as uncomfortable as Shigaraki feels. “So you’ve never –”

“No, I have, I just –” This is way more information than you need to know. Shigaraki grits his teeth. “You wanted an answer. There’s your answer. Leave me alone.”

You don’t leave Shigaraki alone. You actually move over onto the stool next to his. “So you’re just going to be a dick to me any time you’re horny.”

It’s your fault Shigaraki’s horny. Before you showed up, he could deal with things on his own, but now instead of videos and games to fixate on he has fantasies – because he can imagine about what you’d look like under him, what you’d sound like, what you’d feel like. All of which are the worst possible things for Shigaraki to be thinking about right now. He’s completely hard, again. Maybe you can tell, or maybe you’re using your quirk on him after all, because you’re making a really weird face. “If you’re going to be a dick any time you’re horny –”

You break off. Shigaraki thinks, fleetingly, about Decaying you. At this point he’d rather Decay himself, because if even he kills you, he’ll still have to remember that this happened. You take a deep breath, let it go. “Do you want help?”

Shigaraki’s mind blue-screens for a second. “What?”

“If this is why you’re like this, then it’s easy to fix,” you repeat. Your hands are clenched into fists on your thighs, and you slowly uncurl them. “Do you want me to help?”

“Help with what?”

“Jerking off,” you say. You make an awkward gesture, and every muscle in Shigaraki’s body goes tense as he imagines your hands around his cock. You have to be messing with him. There’s no way you’re actually offering – that. “Yes or no?”

“Yes.” Shigaraki finishes his drink and stands up before he can think any more about it. He grimaces as his cock strains against the fabric of his pants, and feels a surge of embarrassment when he realizes you’re looking at it – but it’ll be over soon. In the face of getting some, and getting it from you, nothing else matters. “Let’s go.”

Shigaraki’s nerves kick in on the walk back to his room. Not enough to make the hard-on he’s coping with fade even slightly, but enough to remind him that this is probably a bad idea. But you’re following him, and you haven’t changed your mind. Shigaraki’s not chickening out first. The nerves get worse when he opens the door to his room and realizes what a mess it is. “Uh –”

“Where do you usually sit?” You don’t look impressed – or disgusted, now that Shigaraki thinks about it. “On the bed?”

Shigaraki sits down on the bed – which he didn’t make, because he never makes it – and you sit down next to him. You don’t do anything. “I thought you were going to help me.”

“Show me what you do,” you say. Shigaraki stares at you. His heart is racing, his pulse hammering so hard that he feels it everywhere. “Go as far as you can, and then I’ll keep doing what you do.”

That makes sense, probably. Shigaraki’s mind is startling to scramble. He decides to think about it later and catches the hem of his shirt, hiking it up and out of the way. He knows from experience that it’ll slide back, so he pins it between his teeth and reaches down to his waistband, shoving at it until his pants are down around his thighs and his cock is free.

His hard-on looks like it feels. Uncomfortable, leaking, hot to the touch when he wraps three fingers and his thumb around his shaft. Shigaraki tries a few of the same insufficient strokes as always and feels the muscles in his abdomen and thighs clench. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. A frustrated sound edges out around the fabric in Shigaraki’s mouth. Aren’t you supposed to help him? He looks at you. You’re looking away.

“Hey,” Shigaraki says, the hem of the shirt falling from his mouth, and you look at him. “You wanted to help. Pay attention.”

Your face is flushed. You nod, and you reach out – but only so you can grasp the hem of Shigaraki’s shirt and pull it out of the way again, your knuckles brushing over his abdomen in a way that makes him twitch. You’re sitting closer to him now than you were before, close enough that he can almost feel the heat of your body, and imagine how it would feel to have you pressed against him. One of your hands is holding his shirt up. The other comes to rest on his lower abdomen, fingertips brushing through his hair, centimeters away from the base of his cock.

Shigaraki squirms involuntarily, trying to move your hand lower and jeopardizing his own strokes at the same time. Even when he lifts his hips to meet his own hand, he can’t lose control the way he wants to, can’t chase the feeling he needs. He needs it. He needs it and he’s never come even close to having it, until now. Shigaraki tries to focus. You’re only going to help once he’s gone as far as he can, so he’d better get there as fast as possible.

He shouldn’t have told you to pay attention. Now you’re watching everything, your face still flushed and your eyes glued to Shigaraki’s every move, taking everything in. Do you like this? Do you like watching Shigaraki’s pathetic attempts to get himself off? Whether you like it or not, you’re still touching him when you don’t have to. Shigaraki’s fingers tighten involuntarily around his cock, his fourth finger almost coming down, and he loosens up in a hurry. But that’s no good, either. He tries again.

It’s the same as always. Shigaraki makes it one or two strokes before it gets dangerous, enough to show him what he could have and not enough to get him there. He’s sweaty and his heart is beating too hard and the same frustrated tears as always are stinging his eyes. He curses, lets go – and a warm hand slides between his legs to replace his.

Shigaraki almost comes on the spot. It takes every ounce of willpower he has, and he almost blows it again as he watches you adjust your hold on him, shaping your hand more closely around his cock. You’re slow about it, but you sure as hell aren’t hesitant. Shigaraki can’t look for longer than a few strokes. It’s too humiliating to see the intensity of his own reaction, precum oozing from the tip of his cock and his hips jerking upwards into your hand. He clenches his jaw and shuts his eyes.

“Hey. Pay attention.” Are you making fun of him? Shigaraki opens his eyes and finds you looking at him. “I need to know if I’m doing it right.”

“What do you think?” Shigaraki forces the words out through gritted teeth. “Do you need me to tell you you’re doing a good job or something?”

“That might be nice,” you muse. Your hold on him loosens slightly – not enough to complain about, more than enough to read as a threat. “Since I can’t do anything else right around here, I at least want to be good at getting you off.”

Your grip tightens again, and you run your thumb lightly over the tip of Shigaraki’s cock at the end of the next stroke. Shigaraki couldn’t pull a move like that if his fucking life depended on it, which it would. He was going to tell you not to ask stupid questions, like if you’re good at getting him off when he’s two seconds away from blowing his load all over himself, but instead he moans, so loudly that people can probably hear it two streets away. You replay the same stroke, slower this time, pulling Shigaraki’s back into an arch to match the upward motion of your hand, and then you spend a few seconds just toying with his tip, barely touching him at all.

Are you trying to make him squirm? Shigaraki hates that it’s working, hates that you won’t just give him what he needs – but then you’re back to stroking his cock again, and Shigaraki relaxes, as much as it’s possible to relax. It feels good, even better than he thought it would. And even better than that, because he doesn’t have to do anything. All he has to do is sit back and enjoy it.

“Hold your shirt up,” you say, and Shigaraki grabs it clumsily. Your now-free hand traces quickly down Shigaraki’s chest, along his stomach, skidding sideways over his hip before sliding between his legs. There’s not room for both of your hands. Shigaraki spreads his legs without thinking twice.

You make a weird sound – maybe a gasp. “Stop that,” you say, but now you’re cradling his balls in addition to stroking his cock, so Shigaraki’s not interested in stopping much of anything. “It’s working.”

No shit it’s working. Shigaraki’s entire body is wound tight, so much that he can’t even twitch or thrust or squirm – all he can do is strain, agonizingly tense, every atom of his body focused on the motion of your hands. Shigaraki squeezes his eyes shut. His shirt crumbles away as he claws at it, the sheets on his bed going the same way a second later as he fights to ground himself. He needs more. Shigaraki needs to come right now, before he grabs onto something he can’t replace.

The word struggles out of his mouth sideways, twisted and strained just like the rest of him. “Please –”

You don’t answer him, but Shigaraki feels you shift closer to him. He opens his eyes and you’re right there, close enough that he can feel your breath against his skin. You’re watching him, head tilted, lips parted, so close. Shigaraki’s so close, and he needs more from you. He seizes the front of your shirt to pull you down to him, only for it to Decay when you’re halfway there. But Shigaraki gets lucky. You lean in the rest of the way and press your lips against his.

It’s not because of that. Shigaraki’s coming hard enough to see stars, hard enough that he blacks out for a second, but it’s not because you’re kissing him. His cum spills everywhere, onto his sweatpants and his stomach and over your fingers, and you keep stroking him with slick hands. You don’t pull away until Shigaraki’s whining against your mouth and you’ve drawn out every drop of cum he has to give.

And then you sit back, and let go, and look away. “I need a new shirt.”

You’re sitting next to him, on his bed, in just your bra. The sight would get Shigaraki hard again in an instant if you hadn’t just made him come hard enough to disconnect his spine. He raises a shaky hand and points to his hoodie, slung over the back of his computer chair, but you don’t go for it. Instead you get up and head to the bathroom to wash your hands.

Shigaraki needs to wash everything. His sweatpants, himself – the stupid mattress, since he was dumb enough to Decay the sheets off it right before he blew what feels like the biggest load in history. What else was he supposed to do, though? No way was he going to be able to control himself while you worked him over. No way is he going to be able to think about anything else the next time he sees you do anything with your hands. Or with your mouth.

It occurs to Shigaraki vaguely that while he’s solved the initial problem of being too horny to function, he’s set himself up for something even worse – more dreams, made all the more vivid because he’s got experience to back them up. He might be good to go for now. Probably for the rest of the day, since it’ll be a miracle if he can do anything other than clean up and take a nap. But he’ll be right back where he started the next time he wakes up from another dream about you.

The water from the sink shuts off, and a moment later you come back out, snagging Shigaraki’s hoodie off the chair and pulling it on over your bra. Shigaraki feels a faint twinge of foreboding at the sight, but it fades fast. Sure, he could wake up tomorrow morning with the boner from hell and it’ll be all your fault. But now he’s got a way out of it, and the way out of it is so good that what it takes to get there barely even matters. And he’s in a good enough mood to admit to himself that you do things right a lot more than you do things wrong.

Which reminds him – “Hey,” Shigaraki says, still humiliatingly breathless, and you pause in the act of pulling the hood up. “You did a good job.”

He might still be out of breath, but your face is still flushed. “Good,” you say, and you turn to leave. Shigaraki doesn’t hear you speak again until you’re already out the door. “Next time I’ll do better.”

Better might kill him. Next time. Shigaraki pulls up his sweatpants so his dick isn’t hanging out, makes no other effort at cleaning up, and falls asleep with something that feels like a smile on his face.

[judesmoonbeauty]

Ikémen Villain's 2025 Vil Fest - 400 Hearts Story: Jude Jazza

This is a fan translation only. Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a full translation. Creative liberties are taken for characterization and smoother translation process. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

(Jude’s still not finished….)

As I was anxiously waiting for him to come back, the door opened.

Jude: ….Oh, yer here?

Kate: Jude, welcome back!

Kate: Are you hurt anywhere? You must be tired, please sit down and rest!

Jude: Quit yellin’. It’s annoyin’.

Kate: Sorry, I just got a bit worried while I was waiting, or rather...

One of Jude’s arms was hanging limp, while his other hand was holding his shoulder.

Kate: What’s wrong with your shoulder? Are you hurt?!

Jude: Somethin’ like this ain’t gonna hurt me.

Kate: Then…?

Jude: ……..This is.

Here Jude uses "korehanaa," which can be translated to several things, but primarily "this/this is." I am assuming Jude's meaning popping his shoulder back in place is what will actually hurt. However, take this line with a grain of salt.

Jude tautly bends his elbow —

Jude: Mm……

The moment his supporting hand pushed into his shoulder….I heard bones crack.

Kate: That sounded terrible, are you okay?

Jude: Just popped my shoulder back in place.

Kate: Your shoulder was dislocated?!

Jude: Yer always fussin’. It’s fixed so it’s fine now.

Kate: But what if you force it back and it gets stuck in a weird position?

Kate: We need to be bandage it up immediately…!

Jude: Huh, y’know quite a bit. Where’d ya learn that. That quack doc maybe?

Kate: Nope. While I was waiting for you, I read a book about how to treat injuries.

Kate: I thought it might be of some help.

As I was explaining, I brought over a first-aide kit I’d prepared.

Jude: Ain’t had nothin’ like this in my room?

Kate: I prepped it in case of an emergency.

Kate: I was worried that you might get hurt, but I couldn't just stand by and do nothing.

Kate: Anyway, you’re always getting hurt Jude, so this this will be a good opportunity to always have a first-aide kit handy!

(Is there any kind of cloth to suspend an arm with….)

I open the lid of the medical box...but I couldn’t find a sling inside.

(I didn’t anticipate a shoulder dislocation at the time…..Oh!)

Suddenly, I had an idea and pulled out the large ribbon from the chest of my blouse…..

Kate: Raise your arm, please.

Jude: Ah?

I forcefully threaded the ribbon under the complaining Jude’s armpit, tied it behind his neck and wrapped his arm in it.

Jude: Haaa….yer overreactin’. ‘N it’s cack-handed.

Kate: I-It’s just a temporary measure.

Kate: I think Roger likely has the supplies to treat it.

Kate: I’ll go them now, so just wait here a bit.

Jude: …..It’s fine like this.

Kate: Huh? Why…

Jude: …..Can’t understand ‘less I spell it out fer ya?

The eyes staring at me seem to have a feverish look in them, and it startles me.

Kate: Uh…..Well, I don’t understand.

Jude: Figure it out yerself.

Kate: So, you don’t have the slightest intention to tell me…..

Jude: If I tell ya, you’ll get carried away.

Tilting my head at his words, heat rises in my face as I realize the possibility.

Jude: Whatcha turnin’ red fer.

Kate: It’s like you’re saying….You don’t want to take it off even if it’s “cack-handed,” because I’m the one who treated it….

Jude: Just how self-conscious are ya, that ain’t it.

Kate: Huh, which part was wrong?

Jude: All o’ it. Start to finish.

Kate: ………….

Jude: Why’re ya poutin’?

Kate: I’m not pouting.

Jude: Yer poutin’. Yer right easy to read.

Jude bursts out laughing.

Jude: …..Lookin’ at yer cute face's made me wanna violate ya.

Kate: Hey, what are you sayi-Nnha….

I was pinned from behind, and my lips were wedged open with his fingers…

Kate: Don’t use your injured arm….

Jude: Don’t move ‘n it’ll be fine.

Jude: I can make ya feel good with just one hand.

Kate: Mmm, ahh!

His other hand pinches my nipple, and the crawling pleasure down my spine makes my back arch.

I want to touch you because of I love you, I want to tell you how I feel - such ordinary logic doesn’t work with my lover.

The sweet pain he gives me, always reminds me of that love.

[Event Master List]

Kate: You don't want to take it off because I wrapped it. Jude: That ain't it. The fandom: /eyerolls at the TSUNDERE.

If you wish to be added (and 18+ YO), or removed from my translations tag list, please let me know!

Tag List:@sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely @yuoi-the-magnificent @husbandosandladders @nawlink @justgiulia @vickietickie @greedyqueensfavourite @sharigax @belphiesleftpinkytoe @reimy1164 @cosmowgyral @lunaaka @rosalyne08 @8the-perfect-lie8 @voydsoul @goustmilk @kraiyne @midnightsrunaway

[theballadofharkness]

Whisky and Wine: Part 3

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Claire Debella X fem!reader

Summary: The last thing you expected when you came home from your publishers to your older partner Claire’s home was an invitation to her friend’s, Billionaire Miles Bron, private luxury yacht for the weekend. The problem? Claire had been very careful to keep her fellow disrupters away from you, terrified they would ruin yet another aspect of her life. But nobody says no to Miles, so you find yourself surrounded by Claire’s ‘inner circle’.

Word Count: 6.6K

A/N: Enjoy my loves 💜🪻no smut warning for this chapter but next part will include smut so as always MDNI xo

You don’t want to cry here. Not in front of Whisky. Not in front of all of them.

It’s not just the conversation- it’s everything. The secrecy, the loneliness of being someone’s hidden lover, the constant reminder that no matter how much Claire loves you, there’s always a wall between you, a door she keeps closed just in case. You swallow hard and clear your throat, forcing a small smile.

"Hey, uh... I think I’m gonna head back," you say, keeping your voice light, as if the idea has just suddenly popped into your head. "Probably take a nap before this huge dinner thing."

Whisky watches you closely, eyes scanning your face like she can see right through you. She tilts her head slightly, then nods. "Yeah, okay," she says. "I’ll come with you."

You exhale, relieved to have her with you, and nod in thanks. Your fingers grasp your glass once more to drain the rest of your drink before setting it down, the condensation leaving a faint mark on your fingertips. The bar feels suddenly too loud, the laughter from the others too sharp, the clinking of glasses grating against your ears. You push yourself off the barstool, but your body feels heavy, as if the weight of everything you’ve been carrying has settled into your bones. You brush your hands over your dress as if smoothing out wrinkles, but really, you’re just trying to keep yourself busy- to steady yourself.

You make your way across the bar to where Claire is sitting with Lionel and Birdie, deep in conversation. She looks more relaxed than before, her shoulders less tense, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her wine glass. It’s rare to see her like this, just being, without the weight of the world pressing down on her. For a second, you hesitate. You don’t want to pull her away from this moment- don’t want to be the reason the tension creeps back into her body. But the ache in your chest is too much to ignore, and right now, you just need to go.

She sees you before you can speak, her sharp eyes locking onto you immediately. You watch the ease in her expression flicker, something shifting as she takes you in. Her fingers still against the glass, her full attention now on you.

"Hey," she says, voice softer than before. "You okay?"

You nod quickly, smiling just enough to reassure her, though you know it’s not convincing.

"Yeah. Just tired," you lie. "I think I’m gonna head back to the yacht, maybe take a nap before dinner."

Claire’s brows pull together slightly, and before you can say anything else, she’s already moving, already starting to stand.

"No," you say quickly, reaching out to touch her arm, stopping her before she can fully rise. "It’s okay. You stay. I’ll take our stuff back, and I’ll just be sleeping anyway. You stay, have fun."

She doesn’t sit back down immediately. Her gaze searches yours, scanning your face like she’s trying to read between the lines, trying to figure out what’s wrong.

"Baby…"

"I’m fine," you insist, voice just a little too firm, too quick. You know she doesn’t believe you. You know she’s holding herself back from arguing, from pushing.

Her fingers brush against your wrist, a brief, lingering touch, before she finally nods. "Okay," she murmurs, but her voice is careful, measured. "I’ll see you soon."

You squeeze her hand gently before stepping away, making your way toward the docks with Whisky at your side. You can feel Claire’s eyes on you the entire time, tracking every movement, like she’s trying to piece together exactly what just happened.

And as much as you want to believe that when you wake up from your nap, everything will feel lighter, you already know this isn’t something sleep can fix.

The yacht looms ahead, sleek and glistening under the afternoon sun, the gentle sway of the water making the walkway shift slightly beneath your feet. You’re exhausted (emotionally more than physically) and all you want is to crawl into bed, close your eyes, and escape the heavy feeling pressing against your ribs.

But as you and Whisky step onto the deck, you’re immediately met with the sight of Miles coming down to greet you.

"Well, well, well, look who’s back early," he says, arms spread wide in mock surprise, his signature grin firmly in place. His sunglasses are perched atop his nose, but you know even without seeing his eyes that he’s already assessing, calculating.

Whisky sighs but smirks, tilting her head as she places a hand on her hip. "And look who’s working so hard."

Miles chuckles, placing a hand over his chest like she’s just flattered him. "Hey, running an empire isn’t all it’s cracked up to be sometimes."

You blink, looking between them as the air between them shifts almost immediately. There’s an ease there, a practiced rhythm to their back-and-forth, and Whisky’s body language changes too- leaning in slightly, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

"Poor baby," she teases, voice lilting as she takes a step closer. "All alone on this big yacht, handling all the responsibilities."

"It’s a lot," Miles says, exhaling dramatically. "But you know me, I make it look easy."

You glance between them, pressing your lips together.

"Uh, okay, well..." You shift the shopping bags in your hands and force a small smile. "I’m gonna go take that nap. I’ll leave you guys to... this."

Miles barely acknowledges you, already too absorbed in Whisky, who lets out a soft, tinkling laugh at something he murmurs under his breath. You shake your head slightly, exhaling as you turn toward the entrance, already feeling the headache forming behind your eyes.

You don’t even care what they’re doing. Right now, you just need to get away, to let yourself be alone for a little while, before you have to put on a face again for tonight’s dinner.

~

You wake up slowly, feeling the weight of her before you fully process anything else, Claire’s body pressing against yours, warm and soft, her scent surrounding you, something expensive and distinctly her. A kiss pressed just below your ear, down the column of your throat, another against your collarbone, then one at the center of your chest and then up again, nuzzling against the sensitive spot just beneath your ear.

"Mmm…" You stir, barely awake, shifting under her as you blink against the dim golden light of the cabin.

"Baby," Claire murmurs against your skin, her voice low, affectionate, and just the slightest bit loose from alcohol. "My pretty, sleepy baby."

She’s kissing you again, slow and indulgent, like she’s savoring you, like she has all the time in the world. Her hands tangle in your hair, nails scratching gently against your scalp as she coaxes you fully awake. Her knee is between your thighs, pressing just enough to make you shiver, and there’s something almost worshipful in the way she’s touching you, like she needs to feel you everywhere.

"Claire," you murmur, voice thick with sleep, blinking up at her.

She pulls back just enough to look at you, her expression soft and fond, her eyes slightly hazy from whatever she drank at the bar. "You okay?" she whispers, brushing your hair back with careful fingers. "You left, mommy missed you."

You sigh, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as she kisses the corner of your mouth, then the tip of your nose, then your forehead.

"I was just tired," you say, but even you can hear how weak that excuse is.

Claire hums, clearly unconvinced, but she doesn’t push, not yet. Instead, she kisses you again, deep and slow, her fingers threading through your hair, grounding you as she sighs into your mouth. "Missed you," she breathes. "Missed my baby."

You blink against the dim golden light filtering in from the yacht’s cabin, trying to wake up properly, but she isn’t making it easy. She’s everywhere- her body against yours, her lips at your throat, her knee pressed between your thighs.

"Claire," you manage, your voice thick with sleep and need, your hands finding her waist like you need something to hold onto.

She hums again, nosing along your jaw before pressing a kiss just beneath it. “Hi, baby."

"You’re drunk," you say, blinking up at her, and she just smiles against your skin.

"A little," she admits, and her fingers comb through your hair again, gentle and affectionate. "But I’m here now. Missed you."

You sigh, and she takes the opportunity to kiss your lips, her tongue invading your mouth making you whimper into her. You can feel her warmth, the slight weight of her on top of you, the way she’s pressing into you like she can’t get close enough. She dips down and kisses you again, deep and slow, like she’s trying to make you feel her in the places you’re pulling away.

"You sure you’re ok?" she murmurs against your lips, and her knee shifts between your thighs just enough to make you inhale sharply, your fingers digging into her waist.

You nod, but you know she doesn’t believe you. Not entirely.

Claire stays like that for a moment, her forehead resting against yours, breathing you in, her fingers still threading through your hair. Her lips brush against yours once, twice, not quite a kiss but something close to it.

"I love you," she whispers.

You swallow hard, eyes fluttering closed for a second, and God, you want to be mad still, to hold onto it, but she’s touching you like this, looking at you like you hung the damn moon, and it’s so hard.

"You promise?," you could help but ask as you looked up at her, unable to dispel the pangs of doubt festering away in your chest.

Claire freezes.

You feel her whole body tense above you, shifting to pull you up into her lap, the warmth of her hands going still where they rest against your back. The haze of affection in her gaze flickers, replaced by something sharper- concern, confusion.

"Baby," she says, voice careful, “I do. You know I do."

But your throat is tight, your mind looping back to what Whisky had said, the way the words had struck something deep inside you, something raw.

"Then why won’t you let anyone know?" Your voice wavers, cracking just slightly, and you hate it, hate the way you sound small, vulnerable.

Claire's frown deepens, and now she’s shifting, her hands pressing against your hips as she adjusts her position, as if preparing for a conversation she doesn’t want to have. The mood between you shifts instantly, the heat that had been building between you dissolving into something colder, heavier.

"Baby," she says, firmer now, "we’ve talked about this."

You shake your head, pulling back slightly, arms crossing over your chest as a shield, trying to create space between you even as Claire keeps her grip steady, like she won’t let you run.

"That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt."

Her jaw tightens. "That doesn’t mean I don’t love you."

"Whisky said you’d never come out," you blurt, and you see the way Claire’s entire expression shutters, her spine going ramrod straight, her politician mask slipping into place before she catches herself.

"Whisky said that?" Her voice is sharp now, laced with irritation, but you barely register it through the fog of emotions closing in on you.

"Yes," you say quietly, still unable to look at her.

Claire shakes her head, scoffing. "That’s not her business to comment on."

"She wasn’t wrong, though," you murmur.

Claire exhales sharply, her frustration palpable. "Baby, she doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about. She doesn't know us."

"She knows enough."

Claire’s fingers twitch against your skin. She’s trying to keep herself calm, but you know her too well. She’s pissed. Not at you but at Whisky, for putting doubt in your head, for saying something Claire clearly thinks she had no right to say.

"And what?" Claire huffs. "Whisky is suddenly the voice of wisdom now? She’s clearly fucking Miles behind Duke’s back, but she gets to lecture you about our relationship?"

"She just said what I’ve already been thinking," you whisper, voice unsteady. "She just confirmed what I already knew deep down."

Claire’s jaw clenches. "That’s not fair."

You finally lift your gaze to meet hers, your chest tightening at the look in her eyes. Desperation. Frustration. Worry.

"Isn’t it?" you whisper. "Tell me right now, Claire. Will you ever come out?"

She doesn’t answer right away.

And that hesitation is enough. Your heart cracks wide open, something inside you fracturing.

Claire sees it. Feels it.

"Baby-" she starts, but you shake your head, turning away, trying to pull out of her lap.

She doesn’t let you.

"No," she says, voice almost pleading, her arms tightening around you. "No, c’mon, don’t do that. Don’t pull away from me."

"Claire…”

"I love you," she cuts in, voice fierce. "You know that."

You let out a shaky breath, trying to swallow back your emotions. "But you’re ashamed of me."

Claire’s face crumbles, her whole body going still beneath you.

"No," she whispers. "God, baby, no-"

She moves before you can react, hands gripping your jaw as she surges forward, kissing you hard, desperate, like she’s trying to physically force the words out of your head, like if she kisses you deep enough, you’ll feel the truth she can’t bring herself to say out loud.

"C’mon, baby," she mutters against your lips, fingers tangling in your hair, trying to pull you closer. "Let me touch you, let me show you how much I love you-”

You shake your head, turning away, tears slipping down your cheeks.

Claire freezes, her breath coming in short, unsteady pants. She’s never been able to handle seeing you cry.

“Oh, baby," she whispers, voice breaking. "No, no, please-"

Her hands go soft, no longer gripping, no longer trying to convince- just holding you. She wraps you up in her arms, cradling you close against her chest, pressing kiss after kiss into your hair, her lips trembling against your skin.

"I’m sorry," she murmurs, over and over, rocking you slightly. "I love you. I swear I do. I will come out, I will- just… just not yet."

You close your eyes, curling into her warmth, because it’s the only comfort you can take right now. But deep down, you don’t believe her. Not really.

~

The soft hum of the yacht’s speakers crackled to life, and then Miles' ever-smug voice filled the room.

"Alright, my beautiful people, I hope you're all ready for a night of extravagance. Dinner will be served soon, so slip into your finest and meet me on deck for a night you'll never forget."

You sighed, still curled in Claire’s arms, your body draped over hers like you belonged there. In a way, you did. But after the conversation you'd just had, after the way she'd hesitated, something inside you still ached. Claire had tried to soothe you. She’d cradled you, rocked you a little, whispered soft apologies into your hair. But the words didn't quite reach where they needed to. Not yet.

You shifted, pushing up from the bed, and Claire’s hands instinctively followed you, her fingers stroking the bare skin of your back, almost like she was trying to tether you to her.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t feel up to it,” she murmured, voice still husky from the remnants of sleep and wine.

You shook your head. “No, I’ll go. It’s a big thing, and I don’t want to give your friends any reason to dislike me even more than they already do.”

Claire scoffed, rubbing a slow hand over her face. “Only Birdie dislikes you, but she dislikes anyone who’s younger and prettier than her.”

You huffed a small laugh, but it was quiet. You stood up fully, stretching, before you turned toward the wardrobe where your shopping bags sat neatly lined up from earlier. The sight of them made your stomach twist a little- earlier today had felt so nice, so easy.

Claire was watching you, you could feel it. Her gaze was heavy, like she was studying you too closely. You knew she was still thinking about your fight, still worried.

“I should start getting ready,” you said softly, pushing past the lingering tension.

She nodded, but she didn’t move. She just kept looking at you, thumb pressing thoughtfully into her bottom lip. You hesitated, and then turned back to her, tilting your head.

“…Would you like me to do your hair? And your makeup?”

Claire blinked, slightly taken aback, before she let out a small chuckle. “You want to do my makeup?”

You gave a soft shrug. “You always have someone do it for you when you need to wear it for events. I thought… if you wanted, I could do it instead.”

Her expression shifted, something softer replacing the surprise. She sat up slowly, resting her arms over her bent knees. “Yeah? You sure?”

You nodded, stepping closer. She was watching you so intently, her head tilted just slightly, those dark eyes of hers running over your face like she was searching for something.

Then, slowly, she reached out, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you into her lap. You let out a little noise of surprise as you settled against her, your bare legs straddling her thighs, hands resting on her shoulders as she held you close.

Claire exhaled like she was breathing you in, her lips grazing the dip of your collarbone. “Is my baby girl gonna make me pretty?”

You felt your heart squeeze at the nickname, at the warmth in her voice, the way she still needed you close even after everything.

You shook your head slightly, brushing your fingers through her hair, pushing back some of the loose strands. “You’re already pretty, Mommy. I love you.”

Her breath hitched just a little at that, like she wasn’t expecting you to say it so easily after earlier. But she tightened her arms around you, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your shoulder.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

For a moment, you just stayed there, resting against each other, her lips tracing slow, absentminded patterns against your skin, her hands smoothing up and down your spine like she was trying to remind you, over and over, that she was here. That she loved you. That she didn’t want you to slip away from her.

Eventually, you sighed, shifting back just enough to cup her face in your hands. “Gotta grab my makeup bag..”

Claire smirked, squeezing your waist before finally letting you go to grab . “Alright, baby. I’m all yours.”

Claire positioned herself at the edge of the bed, her legs spread slightly, her hands resting warm and firm on your hips as you straddled her.

The last time you had been in this position, it had been so different.

She had been gripping your waist, guiding you, murmuring praises in your ear as you rode her strap, voice wrecked and needy, your body trembling from the pleasure she was coaxing out of you.

That night, she had kissed your tear-streaked face, whispering about what a good girl you were for her, how beautiful you looked when you fell apart for her, how she had you- how she’d always have you.

Now, though, you weren’t crying from pleasure. Now, there was something fragile about you.

Something in the way you were touching her face, in the way your fingers skimmed over her cheekbones with a kind of reverence that made her throat tighten. Claire stayed still, watching you through half-lidded eyes as you moved with gentle precision, your fingertips smoothing foundation over her skin, brushing pigment onto her lips.

It was so quiet. So intimate.

You weren’t speaking, but you didn’t need to. Your fingers moved with care, almost like you were memorizing her, and Claire felt the weight of it settle in her chest. Your expression was soft. Loving. But there was something else there, too. Something that made Claire’s grip on your hips tighten. She could see it- the way your lips pressed together when you thought she wasn’t looking, the slight crease in your brow as you focused too hard on a simple brushstroke.

You were still thinking about what Whisky had said. Still hurting. Claire exhaled shakily, closing her eyes as your fingers traced over her eyelids, pressing shadow into the creases.

The way you were touching her felt like worship. Like devotion. Something inside her cracked. A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it.

You gasped softly. “Claire?”

Her eyes fluttered open, and your face was immediately full of concern, your hands cupping her cheeks, thumbs swiping at the wetness there.

“Claire what’s wrong?”

Claire let out a small, shaky breath. God, she loved you. And she was so, so afraid.

Her fingers flexed against your waist. “Shit, baby…” Her voice wavered, raw and thick with emotion. “I can’t lose you. Please.”

Your breath hitched.

Your lips parted, eyes softening as you shifted closer, pressing your forehead against hers. “I’m not going anywhere, Claire.”

She closed her eyes, breathing you in, hands gripping your waist tighter. “But you were so upset earlier,” she whispered. “I could feel you pulling away from me, and I- I can’t let you do that.”

You exhaled against her lips, pressing a soft kiss to her temple, lingering there.

Claire felt herself unraveling.

“I love you,” you murmured, fingers threading into her hair.

She shuddered.

Then, after a long moment, she whispered, “What about after I get Senate?”

Your brows furrowed. You leaned back slightly, searching her face. “What?”

Claire swallowed hard, forcing herself to hold your gaze.

“When I get Senate,” she said firmly, because she refused to believe she wouldn’t. “After the campaigning is over, after I win… what if I come out then?”

Your entire body tensed. Your breath caught, fingers going slack against her skin. For a moment, you just stared at her, eyes wide, lips slightly parted.

Then, in a small, breathless voice, you said, “Oh my god. Really?”

Claire exhaled shakily, nodding once. “Yeah, baby. I swear.”

A stunned, breathless laugh left you. “You- You’d really do that?”

Claire cupped your face, her thumbs stroking over your cheekbones, her own eyes wet and searching. “Yes. For you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but this time they weren’t from sadness. You let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, wrapping your arms around her tightly, burying your face in her neck.

Claire exhaled, relief hitting her in waves as she held you just as fiercely.

For the first time, the future didn’t feel like an impossible dream.

It felt like a promise.

~

You were giggling like a school girl as Claire’s hands wandered over you, hands roughly grabbing the flesh of your breasts before her fingers skimmed along your waist, smoothing over your hips as she guided you down the hall toward the dining area.

“Claire,” you whispered, trying to suppress a grin. “People are gonna see.”

She hummed, entirely unbothered, her fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress as she leaned in close. “Let them.”

You rolled your eyes, but your stomach fluttered at her attention. She hadn’t been able to keep her hands off you since you finished getting ready. Every time she looked at you in that deep red dress, it was like she was seeing you for the first time. And you didn’t mind at all. Her presence was grounding. Especially after everything earlier. And now, as you stepped into the open space where the rest of the group had gathered, you were grateful for her warmth.

Because suddenly, you had the undivided attention of more people than just your girlfriend. Birdie, standing near the bar in a dramatic, over-the-top gown, was staring at you with something close to jealousy. Miles, standing nearby, had his eyes locked onto you, expression unreadable, but the appreciation was clear.

Claire noticed immediately.

Her grip on you tightened, fingers spreading possessively across your lower back, pulling you even closer. You felt a small rush of satisfaction at that.

Then, Birdie gasped dramatically and turned to Claire, eyes wide. “Claire!!!” she practically shrieked. “You look amazing!!”

Lionel, who had been sipping his drink nearby, turned toward Claire as well, his expression warm. “You clean up well governor,” he said with an approving nod.

Claire, clearly not used to getting this kind of attention from her friends, cleared her throat, shifting slightly. “Yeah, yeah, alright,” she said, feigning nonchalance, but you could see the slight pink on her cheeks.

You grinned, pressing a quick, affectionate kiss to her cheek. She turned her head slightly toward you, her lips brushing your temple. Birdie made a noise like she was about to say something, but before she could, Miles clapped his hands together to Center the attention back to himself.

“Alright, everyone,” he said, beaming as he spread his arms wide. “Before we dive into the festivities, I just wanna say something.”

Claire exhaled softly beside you, already bracing herself.

“You know,” Miles continued, placing a hand on his chest, “at my core, I’m just an old hippie. I believe in energy, in connection, in the kind of bonds that transcend the material world. And looking around at all of you- my closest friends, my inner circle- I feel it. This,” he gestured vaguely around the room, “is healing for the soul.”

Lionel took a sip of his drink, clearly biting his tongue. Birdie, already a few drinks in, clapped enthusiastically. Whisky gave a dazzling smile, nodding like she agreed with whatever he was saying. Duke, arms crossed, grunted approvingly.

Miles grinned. “So, before we feast, let’s drink, let’s dance, let’s celebrate being here together.”

He gestured toward the waitstaff, and suddenly, glasses of expensive champagne were being passed around.

Soft music began to play, and the mood shifted instantly- lighter, freer Birdie wasted no time grabbing Lionel hands and dragging him toward the center of the space, already swaying to the music. Duke took a drink and immediately pulled Whisky closer, his hands on her waist as they moved toward the impromptu dance floor.

Peg, shaking her head with a small smile, took another sip of her drink.

And Claire? Claire stayed close, her hand never leaving your waist.

You turned to her, tilting your head. “You wanna dance?”

She exhaled a laugh, shaking her head. “Not yet.”

You smiled. “Wanna drink, then?”

She leaned in, her lips brushing just below your ear. “I’d rather just watch you for a minute.”

Warmth flooded your chest. You knew she meant it. Claire wasn’t here to impress anyone. She wasn’t here for the pretense, or the social game, or the spectacle of it all. She was here for you. And no matter what else the night held, that was enough.

The opening notes of a soft, dreamy melody rolled through the air like warm honey. You turned to Claire, her champagne glass still in her hand, her sharp eyes scanning the room in quiet observation. But when you reached for her, fingers gently sliding over hers to take the glass from her grasp, her attention snapped to you.

“Dance with me,” you murmured, setting her drink aside.

Claire exhaled a soft laugh. “Baby…”

“Please?” you pressed, tilting your head, voice sweet and persuasive.

Claire sighed, shaking her head like she was already caving, already hopeless to resist you. “Alright.”

You grinned and pulled her toward the dance floor, the slow, hypnotic beat filling the space between you. Claire had expected something easy, something playful. But as soon as your bodies connected, she realized you had something else in mind. You pressed close, rolling your hips against hers in slow, teasing movements, your arms sliding up around her neck. The way you moved- it wasn’t just dancing. It was deliberate. It was a seduction.

Claire swallowed hard, hands instinctively finding your waist as you swayed together. You could feel her breathing shift, hear the subtle hitch in her breath as you twisted against her, the warmth of her hands tightening around you.

She was in awe of you.

Of the way you moved, the way you looked at her like she was the only person in the room, the way your body molded so effortlessly to hers. She’d always known you were beautiful. But watching you like this, lost in the music, your body moving in a way that made her mouth go dry, her heart slam against her ribs- fuck. You turned in her arms, your back pressing against her front, rolling against her as your head tilted back onto her shoulder.

Claire groaned under her breath, gripping your waist tighter. “You’re gonna kill me,” she muttered, voice rough.

You smiled, turning back to face her, your hands sliding down her arms as you leaned in, eyes dark and heavy-lidded. Then, just as the song swelled, you kissed her. Slow, deep, sensual.

She melted into you instantly, her hands tightening around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as her lips moved against yours, tasting the remnants of champagne and something sweeter, something you. The room, the music, the people- they all faded into nothing. It was just you and her, lost in the moment, wrapped up in each other.

As soon as Claire pulled away, breathless and slightly dazed from your kiss, Lionel approached with a thinly veiled urgency. His eyes flickered between you and Claire before settling on her.

"Claire," he said, voice tight, "can I talk to you for a second? Privately."

You sighed. Of course.

Claire tensed, immediately picking up on the energy. She hesitated, squeezing your waist before pulling back. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."

You watched as Lionel whisked her away, his hand hovering just slightly behind her back, guiding her toward the edge of the deck out of Miles Bron’s eye line.

You exhaled slowly, shaking your head, and reached for another drink from a passing server.

"Okay, damn I see you," Whisky's voice came from beside you as she sidled up, drink in hand.

You glanced at her. "Hm?"

She nodded toward where Claire had disappeared. "She was all over you out there. Didn’t think Claire had it in her."

You smirked slightly, taking a sip. "You should see her behind closed doors."

Whisky rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, I bet." She took a sip of her drink, then looked at you a little more closely. "You feeling better?"

You hesitated, swirling the liquid in your glass before answering. "Alcohol helps," you admitted.

She hummed in understanding. Then, maybe it was the champagne, maybe it was the fact that you’d just been forced back into loneliness while Claire ran off with Lionel, or maybe it was just that the question had been burning in your brain ever since earlier…

But before you could stop yourself, you turned to Whisky and asked, "Are you fucking Miles?"

Whisky nearly choked on her drink. "Jesus, what?"

You arched a brow, staring her down, emboldened by alcohol. "Well? Are you?"

Whisky gaped at you for a second before she laughed, shaking her head. "Wow, you really don’t hold back, huh?"

You just waited, eyes locked onto her expectantly.

She rolled her eyes, taking another sip before sighing dramatically. "Look, it’s not what you think."

"So that’s a yes."

"It’s a complicated yes."

You blinked at her, trying to wrap your head around what she was saying. "Complicated? What does that even mean?"

Whisky sighed, looking away for a moment as she swirled the liquid in her glass. "It just is, okay?"

You stared out at the ocean “poor Duke” you muttered, mainly to yourself.

She exhaled sharply through her nose, clearly debating whether to tell you more. Eventually, she gave in, shaking her head. "Look- not ‘poor Duke.’"

That made you frown. "Not poor Duke? Whisky, you’re cheating on him."

She huffed a humorless laugh and gave you a knowing look. "It was Duke’s idea."

Your eyes widened. "Wait… what?"

She sighed, taking a long sip of her drink before setting it down with a clink. "Twitch banned him for life."

You nodded. "Yeah, I heard about that."

"And Miles wouldn’t help."

"Okay…"

"So Duke suggested that maybe Miles would be more inclined to help if it came from me." She gave you a pointed look, letting the words settle. "And if he got something in return."

You reeled back slightly, gripping your glass a little tighter. "Are you serious?"

"It’s not so bad," she said with a small shrug. "Miles is using his money to buy shares in YouTube, to promote Duke’s streams. Revenue is going up. Duke’s putting me on his channel more. I’m building my brand."

You stared at her, heart sinking. "So… Duke pushed you to do this?"

She frowned. "I chose to do this," she corrected. "Because unlike Duke, I actually think long-term. I’m making a name for myself. Getting more sponsorships, more followers. Miles can be a creep sometimes, sure, but he’s useful."

You exhaled sharply, rubbing your temple. "Jesus, Whisky."

She tilted her head, studying you. "What? It’s no different than what Claire’s doing to you."

Your breath hitched. "Excuse me?"

Whisky just raised an eyebrow. "I mean, let’s be real- Claire’s keeping you a secret because it benefits her. And you’re going along with it because you love her. Tell me how that’s different."

You turned to Whisky sharply, your head spinning- not just from the alcohol but from the weight of what she was saying. "It’s different," you shot back, your voice tight. "Claire’s going to come out when she gets Senate. She promised."

Whisky snorted, shaking her head. "You believe that?" she asked, amusement flickering across her face. "Please. After Senate, it’ll be the next political goal, then the next. She’s never going to stop."

Your stomach twisted. "No, it won’t," you said firmly, gripping your glass a little too tight. "You don’t know her. You don’t know us.”

Whisky gave you a pitying look, like she was watching a car crash in slow motion. "Please." She rolled her eyes. "I know plenty."

Your breath hitched, emotion rising thick in your throat. "Fuck you," you snapped, blinking rapidly as tears burned behind your eyes. "She might be complicated, but she doesn’t…" Your voice caught, your chest tightening. "She doesn’t fuck her way to get what she wants."

Whisky smirked at that, shaking her head in something almost like disappointment. “Doesn’t she?" she challenged. "The whole reason she’s where she is is because of her loyalty to Miles."

Your heart stopped. "What are you talking about?"

Whisky tilted her head. "She cut Andi out of her life," she said simply. "Became team Miles to keep him bankrolling her campaigns. If she’d stood by Andi, she’d have nothing. No career, no money, no power."

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

"We’re all selling ourselves for him," Whisky continued, her voice quieter now. "We all have a price and he’s a billionaire. At least I’m honest about it."

You stormed away from Whisky, your pulse hammering in your ears. Your breath came fast and sharp, the alcohol amplifying every emotion. You needed to find Claire, needed her arms around you, needed her to make sense of all of this because right now, it felt like the world was tilting sideways.

But before you could get far, a hand caught your arm, fingers pressing lightly into your skin. You turned abruptly, only to see Miles grinning down at you, his touch lingering just a second too long. His other hand slid casually to your lower back- not inappropriate, not *quite*, but enough to send a small, instinctive shiver of discomfort down your spine.

"Hey you," he said smoothly, searching your face. "You good? You look kinda upset."

You swallowed, shaking your head quickly. "Yeah, I’m fine," you lied, forcing a tight smile. "Just need to find Claire."

Miles didn’t let go. Instead, his expression shifted, something shrewd flickering behind those perpetually relaxed eyes. "Hey, you’re a writer, right?"

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the sudden shift. "*Uh… yeah, I am.*"

His smile widened. "How’s that going for you? Your publicists doing a good job with your sales?"

You frowned slightly, feeling a little off balance. "I mean… I guess? They’re fine?"

Miles nodded like he was considering something, then leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough to make it feel conspiratorial. "I actually bought your latest book on my iPad last night," he said, tapping his temple like he was in on some private joke. "And let me tell you-" He grinned. "-it should have a lot more attention than it’s getting."

Your lips parted slightly. "Wait… you read my book?"

"I consume culture, babe," Miles said grandly, taking a slow, deliberate sip from his drink. "And you? You’ve got something special. But you’re not getting the push you deserve."

You felt a strange mix of flattery and unease creep up your spine. "I mean… publishing’s tough," you said cautiously. "I’m doing okay-"

"Okay isn’t enough for talent like yours," he cut in smoothly. "Look, if you want, I’d love to pay for you to have the best of the best. Top-tier marketing, real PR muscle. We’re talking global reach, bestsellers lists, late-night interviews- you’d be a household name. A younger, hotter Stephen King."

You blinked at him, a strange weight settling in your stomach. Miles smiled easily, like he’d just handed you the world on a silver platter. But the way his fingers brushed idly against your back made you feel like there was a price tag attached- one you weren’t sure you wanted to see. Your eyes narrowed as you studied Miles, every alarm bell in your head going off at once.

"What’s the catch?" you asked, your voice a little steadier now, cutting through the haze of alcohol and lingering frustration.

Miles just smiled, lazy and knowing, like he had expected the question. "Hey, no catch," he said, spreading his hands in a show of innocence. "A friend of Claire’s is a friend of mine."

Your stomach twisted, something bitter rising in your throat. You gave a sharp, humorless laugh. "She’s not my friend," you said coldly, tilting your head. "I don’t let my friends fuck me.”

The words hung in the air between you, deliberate, pointed- a clear jab at him and Whisky. And for the first time, you saw the briefest flicker of something in his expression, a tiny crack in that unshakable, self-satisfied grin. But just as quickly, it was gone, smoothed over into that same easy, confident smirk.

"Still," he said, voice warm and dripping with charm. "I’d like to help you. Just say the word, and I’ll make it happen. No pressure."

His gaze was steady, waiting, like he already knew what your answer would be. Like he was certain you’d come around. And maybe, in another life, in another moment, you might have. But right now, all you wanted was to get away from him and find Claire.

Your jaw tightened, and you forced a small, polite smile. "I’ll think about it," you said, though you already knew your answer.

Miles just grinned wider. "That’s all I ask, babe."

Taglist: @harknessshi @agathascoven1 @notorious-vick @jessica-mcd @sapphicfleur @lisqueen @starryjeongyeon @brekker157 @maximilfism @meghina18 @onlybynightandonlybysea @buttercandy16 @milflovers4 @rigglemethat @mistyshane30 @certified-sleep-deprived @agathaallalongg @yun4-st4rx @psychickryptonitebouquet

[chahnniesroom]

to have and to hold

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: you don't think there's anything chan can do to make you love him more. chan continues to prove you wrong.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, lots of fluff!!

a/n: sorry it has been so long since i posted! i have been wanting to write this since that ep of return of superman where chan and felix took care of rowoon, it was so so sweet. also i'm so sorry but i did not edit this at all

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

“Do you think you’d ever want to have kids?” 

Your question breaks through the quiet dialogue of the show that you and Chan are watching. Behind you, you feel Chan freeze before he forces himself to relax and continue fiddling with your fingers.

Chan hesitates for a moment longer before answering.

“I don’t know,” he says, slowly and carefully. “I think that I’d want to eventually, but right now? Being an idol- It would be difficult. I mean, for anyone it’s hard, but especially with this career…”

“Do you like children?” you ask, curious even though you can anticipate his answer.

“Yes.” This time he replies immediately, although his voice is still cautious. He releases your hands from his hold and gently nudges your shoulders so that you twist to look at him. “Y/n- Do- Are you-”

“What?” you stare at him, not sure why he suddenly seems so worried.

“Are you pregnant?” he asks gently. “It’s fine if you are! We can totally work things out and I will 100% support you the whole time-”

“Oh!” You smack yourself in the forehead. “No! Definitely not! I was just thinking.” 

“Ah.” Chan slumps against the back of the couch, this time he’s actually relaxed. “Just thinking or- what brought this on?”

“I’m sorry,” you say hurriedly. “That must have been out of nowhere for you. No, it’s because my older sister’s wedding anniversary is coming up, the first one since she’s had a kid, so I wanted to let her go out without having to worry. I was wondering if you wanted to help me babysit?”

“I see,” Chan says, sounding relieved. “Your sister. Yes, I haven’t met Doyun yet, right? I’d love to help you take care of him.”

—

Your sister is delighted that you’ve offered to take Doyun for an evening and you quickly coordinate with Chan what day would work best. It’s not possible to babysit on your sister’s actual anniversary due to Chan’s schedules, but your availabilities line up on a Friday night the weekend after.

Chan is nervous leading up to it, which you find absolutely adorable. When you look over his shoulder one night, curious what he’s focusing so intently on, you find him scrolling through articles on interacting with babies as well as tips on baby-proofing an apartment.

Before your sister arrives, you work with Chan for a few hours transforming the open area of your apartment, placing pillows and draping blankets over sharp corners and making sure to keep any small objects out of reach. 

When the doorbell rings, Chan panics, popping his head out of the kitchen from where he’s been trying to figure out a way to prevent Doyun from being able to open the cabinets.

“We're not ready!” he says, eyes wide.

“What do you want to do, keep them waiting outside until you finish?” you joke, then pause when it looks like Chan is actually considering it. “Don't worry, I'll go let my sister in and you keep working on that. We'll be watching Doyunnie the whole time, so even if you can't work that out, it's fine.”

Your sister doesn't stay for very long. She hands Doyun off to you and assures both you and Chan that your place looks safe for a baby. After going through everything that is packed in the massive diaper bag that she’s leaving with you, she heads back home to get ready for her dinner.

Doyun has a short attention span and cycles between playing with a stuffed animal, a ball, some plastic fruits and vegetables, and toy trains within the first hour. He is so adorable that you and Chan don't mind how much energy is required to keep him occupied. Luckily he's a fairly easygoing baby and hasn't fussed at all, although it did take a while for him to warm up to the two of you.

He's comfortable now, especially since Chan has started to spin the two of them around, hands firmly gripping Doyun’s torso. Doyun absolutely loves it, shrieking in excitement with his eyes crinkling. Even after a few minutes of the same thing, he never grows bored, just as thrilled everytime that Chan lifts him above his head. Although Doyun isn’t very heavy yet, after 15 minutes there’s sweat visible on Chan’s forehead and he’s starting to get out of breath.

“How about we take a bit of a break? Do you want to read?” Chan sits Doyun down against some pillows and rummages through the bag that your sister packed, finding some of the books that she included.

Chan hands the books over and although Doyun accepts both of them, he throws them aside and instead clumsily reaches up towards Chan, clearly asking to be picked up again. Chan pretends to groan and complain as he lifts Doyun back up.

“Aww,” you coo. “He really likes you.”

“And I really like him,” Chan says, spinning Doyun around. “I just wish I hadn’t gone to the gym earlier today, I didn’t realise what a workout this would be!”

Eventually Doyun grows tired, no longer begging Chan to continue. This time when Chan settles him on the ground, he just looks around curiously before crawling up to Chan and grabbing at his curls.

“He’s so small,” Chan marvels. “Look at his little fingers!”

He reaches out towards Doyun, who immediately wraps his hand around Chan’s index finger and pulls it towards his mouth.

It's comical to see the difference in size between their hands and Chan visibly melts, allowing Doyun to gum at his fingers, quickly covering them in a sheen of saliva.

“Are you hungry Doyunnie?” Chan asks. “It’s almost time for dinner, let’s see what your auntie prepared for us.”

By the time Doyun is set up in a high chair with a bib on, you’ve finished cooking. Dinner for Doyun is simple, consisting of steamed vegetables, tofu, rolled omelette, rice, and a bit of fruit. You’ve also used the same ingredients plus a few additions to make kimchi stew for you and Chan.

Chan is distracted the whole meal, prioritising feeding Doyun and wiping his face clean in between bites over eating his own food. It's a futile effort since Doyun seems more interested in smearing the food around rather than getting it into his mouth.

When you're finished with your food, you switch spots with Chan and coax Doyun into eating the last few bites he has left while Chan scarfs down his own meal. 

After dinner, you carry Doyun into the bathroom and start filling the bathtub with a shallow layer of warm water. He watches with wide eyes as you add bubble bath that changes the colour of the water to a deep blue and creates a thick cover of bubbles. After washing the dishes and wiping down the kitchen, Chan joins the both of you just as you’re rinsing suds out of Doyun’s hair.

Cleaned and dressed in a fuzzy onesie with tiny bear ears poking out from the hood, Doyun struggles to stay awake for the rest of the evening. It’s obvious that he’s tired, he’s starting to get cranky and his blinks get longer and longer, but he stubbornly continues to play. After his third time nodding off while slotting plastic shapes into a cube, Chan picks him up and walks him around the room, rocking him slightly while humming a melody that you can’t recognize.

When your sister comes to pick up Doyun, he's sprawled out on Chan’s chest, deeply asleep. A line of drool drops from his open mouth to form a wet spot on Chan’s shirt, but Chan doesn’t seem to mind, staring at Doyun with stars in his eyes.

That night, right when you're about to fall asleep, Chan speaks up. His arms are wrapped around you and you can feel his breath against the back of your neck. 

“I think,” he says quietly. “I think I want kids. Not now, I still have the same concerns as before, but in the future? I want it.”

“You did so well with Doyunnie, it looked so natural,” you agree. “I think you would be a great dad.”

“Only if you’re there by my side,” he corrects.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

[cinnamqnbuns]

“just breathe, love”

summary - your girlfriend is frustrated, and your there to help ease her mind. capturing a cute moment to keep as well..

warning / contains - girlfriend!ellie x reader, pure fluff :), thats really it i think!

a / n - another cutesy fic, i tried to make this one shorter then the last. i think these ideas come to my head as scenarios for my dr.. am i the only tlou shifter and writer? at the end i just chose a random date, nothing special! but i hope you enjoy reading☺️.

1k+ words!

~

the fourth crumpled piece of paper landed in the trash, followed by a sigh as ellie pressed her palm against her forehead. over and over, she failed to get the sketch just right. sweat made loose strands of hair stick to her neck, leaving her feeling itchy, sticky, and just too warm to get comfortable. she could barely focus, let alone get this stupid picture good enough for joel to put on display. he wanted something from ellie to fill an empty space on his wall with a framed drawing.

she let out another frustrated breath, taking her hair down and putting it up again, brushing messy auburn strands off her neck with her fingers and putting it all into a low ponytail.

crumble.

throw away.

adjust sitting position.

take a deep breath.

this was getting overstimulating after trying so hard to complete something she did all the time with everything getting in the way. maybe today just wasn’t her day.

it repeated a few more times until you finally looked up from the book you could barely focus on, pulled up from the pages by the sound of ellie’s frustration. setting it face down so you wouldn’t lose your page, you peeled the throw blanket off your body and made your way toward her. your touch gentle, careful not to startle her, you wrapped your arms around her shoulders from behind, pressing your face into the crook of her neck for a moment before lifting to place a kiss on her temple. her skin was warm. you could tell something was wrong.

“are you having a hard time, love?” you asked softly.

ellie letting out a sigh, gripped her pencil tighter. “i just.. this drawing for joel—I don’t understand why it’s getting so fucking difficult. i mean, all i do is sketch and draw, all the time. i’m getting… frustrated.”

gently removing your arms, gripping the back of her chair and spinning it to face you. without hesitation, you took her hands in yours, rubbing her knuckles before gently pulling her up from her seat. you looked into her distressed eyes, feeling bad for how overwhelmed she felt.

“it’s gonna be okay. just breathe, love. i think you should take a break—you’ll feel better with a clear mind once you come back to it!”

you flashed that sweet smile of yours, the one that always made her melt, the one that could bring her comfort no matter what. cupping her freckled face with your soft hands, you rubbed your thumb over her pink-flushed cheeks. she looked beautiful, no matter what state she was in. she leaned into your touch, resting her head against your hand.

placing a warm kiss onto her soft lips, you made ellie forget what she was even mad about. you brought her a sense of peace, melting away her racing thoughts. taking her hand, you led her to the bed, sitting her down.

“maybe you could put on a movie for us to watch? i’ll get you some nice, cold water to cool down, okay?”

she nodded before turning to search for a movie to play. meanwhile, you grabbed a glass, popped a few ice cubes from the tray, and filled it with water before heading back to your girlfriend as she put a disc into her ps3. handing her the glass, she took it with a soft, tired sounding, “thank you, babe.”

moving your book aside, you got comfortable on the bed, leaning against the headboard. ellie shuffled between your legs, her silent way of asking for something she always loved, your fingers running through her hair, massaging her scalp. to her, your touch was heaven.

you took your time, running your fingers through her soft locks, inhaling the familiar scent of her shampoo. starting at the tip of her right side hairline, you separated three strands and slowly wove them together, forming a french braid. once you finished, you took the hair tie from your wrist and secured the end. then, you did the same to the other side, using the band from her wrist to tie it.

stretching out your arms, you let out a sigh as ellie did the same. “i really liked that movie, els.”

she turned to you, getting a full glimpse of her head that you had delicately braided into her hair.

“awh, baby, look at you, your braids are to adorable.”

ellie tilted her head the left a bit. “so that’s what you were doing to my hair, huh? it felt really good actually. almost fell asleep.”

soft laughter came over the two of you. you motioned toward the bathroom, nudging her playfully. “go look.”

rolling her beautiful eyes but smiling, she sighed, “fine, fine. i’ll go look.”

she walked into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror, turning her head left and right to admire the braids. she never really thought she could pull off a look like this, she’d always assumed her hair was too short. but seeing herself now, she didn’t think it looked bad at all.

ellie walked back out, already opening her mouth to tell you how much she actually liked them. “baby, i think they lo—”

click!

the snap of the camera cut her off.

ellie blinked in surprise, watching as you lowered the polaroid with the biggest and full of love smile.

“babe! you could’ve at least let me pose.”

“but you looked so adorable, i couldn’t wait!”

ellie shook her head with a small laugh before slipping an arm around your waist, resting her head on your shoulder. she watched as you waved the polaroid, waiting for the image to appear. when it finally did, her eyes softened. she looked perfect. the camera had captured her just right, her lips slightly parted, her gaze right into the camera, the flash highlighting her details.

“this is going in my room, i absolutely adore this.

a few laughs and jokes about her cute little braids later, all of ellie’s stress had melted away. her mind was calm, clear. she felt ready to work on her piece, not frustrated, not rushed. you had relaxed her, put her at ease. the sweet nothings you whispered to her throughout the movie had made her heart flutter, a smile tugging at her lips with each one. you made her feel okay. you made her feel heard. like she wasn’t overreacting about a drawing.

time passed. you were deep in your book, ellie deep into her art. when she finally finished, she didn’t hesitate to rush up to you, peppering your face with a million kisses. you giggled, felt a little ticklish but loved it anyway.

“look, babe, i finished! i really appreciate you for earlier. i was just really overwhelmed with this. you made me feel a lot better.”

placing a kiss onto your forehead, she spoke softly,

“i love you.”

“i love you, baby.”

when you had arrived home, you placed the polaroid on your nightstand, right where you wanted it. you wanted her to be the last thing you saw before resting, the first thing you saw when you woke up. the perfect way to start and end your day.

“8-13 ♡ ellie”

[camryn-haitani]

I know darling

Colby Brock x Fem!Reader

you sent Colby a lengthy paragraph about all the things you want him to do to you. and he makes everything you sent come true

TW: Dom Colby, p in v sex, fingering (Fem receiving), teasing, video masterbation (from Colby), mentions of Sam joining and watching, face fucking (Fem receiving), fingering, name calling "love, baby, angel, sweetheart, good girl, good bitch, pretty girl, bitch, whore, slut", praise and degradation, cursing, video during it, aftercare, plot twist

I am a firm believer that Colby is into face fucking

- - - - - - - - - - -

once I started texting the words I wanna say, they wouldn't stop coming. once I felt like I said enough to get him going, I sent it along with a spicy pic of me in his favorite lingerie. and now I wait for his response.

Colby POV

That was one of the scariest things we've ever caught on camera. me, Kris, and Sam decided we had enough and packed up to go home. we all get in the car and wait for the long car ride home.

once we get into a town, I finally have service and I get a shit ton of notifications. the one that caught my eye was the one y/n sent. I see she sent a long paragraph along with a photo. I was expecting a message about how much she misses me. holy shit I was wrong.

what I'm reading is the most spine chilling, boner inducing, and cock throbbing thing I've ever read. the more I read, the more hard I get. I grab my xplr hoodie and cover my lower half, not wanting Sam to see my boner.

we still have a 3 hour car ride back to LA, I'm not gonna make it that long. my breath get harsh and fast. Sam notices and says something. "hey man, you good?" he asks as he hits my arms. "yeah uhm I'm good, just thinking about the stuff that happened earlier."

I'll give it an hour and see if it goes away.

*an hour later*

well it's been an hour and I still have a boner. I roll my eyes and try to think of an excuse.

"hey Sam uh pull over to a gas station, I uhm have to piss" I lie. "I got you man" Sam pulls over to a gas station and I quickly run out of the car and into the bathroom. I sigh as I pull down my pants when an idea popped in my head.

I pull out my phone and start recording.

*a little while later*

I finish and clean myself up as i send the video to y/n.

me: video

me: I hope you enjoy this love

Y/n POV

I hear my phone buzz and I open it without hesitation. I see he sent a video and I watch it from beginning to end.

me: can't wait for you to get home daddy~

I know that name gets him going and I wanna see what happens. not even 5 minutes later, I get another text from him.

colbs<333: god you have no idea what you do to me, angel. when I get home, you better have my favorite outfit on with your head hanging off the side of the bed<3

me: yes sir<33

since I have his location, I can see how far away he is. he's about an hour and a half away from home, so when he gets about 10 minutes away from home, I'll do what he says.

*an hour and a half later*

I get more and more excited when I watch his icon get closer and closer to our house. I decide to get changed into his favorite lingerie and lay down on the bed.

I hear the door open and I hear stuff slam on the ground with fast foot steps coming up the stairs. I quickly put my head off the side of the bed just like he said. the door swings open and I see him with lustful eyes eating me alive.

"goddamn angel, you look gorgeous" he walks closer to me. his rough, calloused hands run all over my body as he ogles me. every movement he makes on my body, I twitch with anticipation.

he plays with my tits as he runs his fingers over my nipples over the lingerie as a whimper elicits from my mouth. I feel his boner on my cheek in his pants, wanting to be let out. I lift my hand up to caress his cock. I wrap my hand around it and barely squeeze it. he groans as he steps back to free his aching cock.

"you ready, princess?" he asks as he places his cock on my lips. I nod vigorously and open my mouth, spit already coating his leaking tip.

"just tap my thigh if you can't breathe" he reassures. I nod as he taps his cock on my tongue a few times before shoving his cock in my throat. I gag but then get used to it.

I let him use my throat for whatever he needs. there's pre-cum and saliva dripping down my chin and my mouth.

his thrusts get more harsh. 'hes about to cum' I think to myself. "gonna.... fuck.. close.." he mutters. he can't even pronounce words. I grab his waist and pull him further into my mouth. "fuck!" he yells, unknowingly I was going to do that.

I feel his cum drip down my throat and chin. I sit up and gather his cum and put it back in my mouth. he does the same with my spit.

his eyes widen for a second, like he has an idea. he pulls out his phone and starts recording.

"oh Sam would love this, wouldn't he?" he teased his fingers on my slit. I can only nod, my mind is cloudy and my eyes dizzy with pleasure. "I need words, pretty girl." he says, curling his fingers up in me. "yes! he would love seeing me like this!" I yell. Colby chuckles at my words.

"seeing you like this. being such a slut for me." his fingers get more and more quick. I know that him and Sam have done something like this in the past, but Sam watching me is so erotic to me.

"go ahead and tell the camera how much of a slut you are. for me and Sam. go on bitch."

"fuck Sam, I want you in me. I want you and Colby to fuck me so hard it hurts to walk. please Sam" I beg with pleasing eyes.

"good bitch" his fingers get more aggressive and he can tell I'm getting close.

he rips his fingers out of me as I'm about to cum. "w-what... why.. please, I want it... wanna cum for you" I plead into the camera.

he grabs my cheeks "only good sluts get to cum. this is what you get for getting me hard in the car. you knew I was with Sam and yet, you still did it. it's like you wanted Sam to know." he coos.

"yes! I wanted Sam to know! I want you both to fuck me!" I whine.

"that's what I thought, you whore" he lines up his cock and slides it up and down my wet folds.

"daddy please I need you." I beg. "fine, only because I'm so fucking hard for you" he rams his cock into me without a second thought.

"why don't you tell Sam what you want him to do to you, hm?" Colby teases. "want.... want you to fuck my face while Colby e-eats me out" my hands cover my face in embarrassment.

he rips my hands from my face "I think Sam would wanna see your pretty face as I fuck you." he pins my hands above my head as he slides his cock in and out of me.

his pace gets faster and his rhythm gets sloppy. my legs wrap around his waist, wanting him closer in me.

he apparently liked that because I feel him twitch in me. "fuck... gonna cum in your pretty pussy, huh? you want me to cum in you, fucking slut"

"shit..... yes yes yes please." I beg more.

his final push in me makes me unravel the knot in my stomach. my back arches as my legs tighten around his waist.

his breath slows as he picks himself up and goes to our bathroom. he runs a washcloth under water and comes back to clean us up.

Colby wore a smirk on his face that I couldn't see. "hey baby, can you get the cameras from downstairs please? I wanna edit some footage from earlier"

"yeah sure" I struggle to go downstairs but I make it through

I turn the corner and there he is…

Sam

he was downstairs this whole time

"uhm uhh... hi?"

"hello beautiful" he says as he stands up and walks towards me. he puts a finger under my chin and makes me look at him "you sounded lovely up there. calling out for me. I hope you meant every word up there because I plan on making those things true. " he whispered in my ear.

his phone goes off. "I wonder what this is" he says sarcastically. he pulls up the video Colby took of me. "I hope I make you sound like this" he kisses your neck and walks out the door.

“fuck”

- - - - - - -

this has been in my head for a looooong time

[wheels-of-despair]

I'm Gonna Love You Forever Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie gets some upsetting news and has to hide out at Evil Woman's house for a little while… it's an angsty one, kids. Contains: Fear and nightmares, bed-wetting and blood, childhood trauma and abuse, comfort and reassurance, a declaration of love. Words: 3.7k

A thwap comes from your right.

You glance over and chuckle. Eddie is lying next to you on your bed, on his stomach, and his face is planted in the middle of the history textbook he's supposed to be reading.

"Are you absorbing the necessary information better that way?" you ask, turning your attention back to a battered classroom-issued paperback.

"No," he grunts. "Need a break."

"I understand. You've been reading for a whole," you check your watch, "three minutes."

He groans.

"Finish this chapter and we'll take a break."

He groans louder, head still in his book. And then the phone rings. His head pops up. "It's Wayne, he says I gotta come home right now, can't study any more."

"Shut up," you laugh, smacking his denim-clad ass with your book as you get up and go to answer the phone.

Your brother already has it. You stand in the hallway with your arms crossed, waiting for either a hand-off or a dismissal. He covers the mouthpiece with his hand.

"Eddie's uncle wants to talk to him," he says lowly. You nod, hold up a finger, and return to your room.

"You're in luck, Munson; it really is Wayne."

Instead of looking relieved, Eddie looks concerned. It's understandable; Wayne never calls here. Eddie scrambles out of bed and skids into the hallway on his socked feet.

You sit on the bed and open your book, but don't absorb a single word... because you can hear Eddie's side of the conversation.

"What? Why? No. No. I can't. I'll stay at Rick's or something. I'll let you know. Bye."

It's tense. It's rushed. Something is definitely wrong. You toss your book aside when he hurries back into your bedroom. He closes your door and leans against it, face even paler than usual.

"You okay?" you ask, knowing the answer.

His lip begins to tremble. His eyes start to well. You're off the bed and wrapping your arms are around him in an instant. He squeezes you and buries his face in your neck.

"What happened? Is Wayne okay?"

Eddie sounds like he's starting to hyperventilate, so you guide him toward the bed. You get him to sit, then kneel on the floor in front of him and hold his hands in yours. He's hunched over; his eyes are scrunched tight, his face looking a little green.

"Breathe, baby. It's gonna be okay. Just breathe."

He squeezes your hands until you begin losing feeling in your fingers, but you don't let go. You couldn't, even if you wanted to. Eventually, his breathing slows and he releases his death grip on your hands.

"My dad's out."

You've been dating Eddie Munson for more than six months, and he's barely mentioned his father. You never asked about his parents; you figured if he wanted you to know, he'd tell you. And he did, occasionally. You'd gathered that neither of them were the nurturing type. You knew they were alcoholics. You knew Eddie's mother died when he was 7, and that he came to live with Wayne when he was 8. Everything else was something of a mystery that you figured he'd reveal in time, when he was ready.

Eddie takes a shuddering breath and begins: "He was supposed to be doing 15 years. It's only been 12. He showed up at the trailer a little while ago. Wayne says he wants to see me." Tears fall when he shakes his head. "I can't."

"Baby, you don't have to," you tell him softly. He closes his eyes. "Eddie, you don't have to see him if you don't want to. You're a grown-up. He can't make you do anything." He covers his face with his hands, and you move upward to wrap your arms around him again.

"I don't want to go home," he whimpers.

"So stay with me."

"Yeah, I bet your mom would love that," he says sarcastically, pulling back and swiping at his eyes.

"She literally went to court to fight my dad when we said we didn't want to see him anymore. She'll understand."

"I don't know how long it'll be 'til he fucks off."

"That's okay."

"What if she says no?"

"She won't," you say confidently.

You don't know what his father did to him, or why he was locked up, or why Eddie is so scared, but you know one thing: if that old man comes near the boy you love, it'll be the last thing he ever does.

You move your books to the floor and lie down on the bed together. Eddie buries his face in your chest and lets you hold him tight. You lie there in silence, gently playing with his hair, until you hear your mom come home from work.

"Be right back," you whisper with a kiss to the top of his head.

When you return to your room, Eddie is curled into a ball on his side, hugging your pillow. He looks up at you with fearful, red-rimmed eyes. You ease back onto the bed, lying down to face him, and reach out to tuck his shaggy hair behind his ear.

"Mom talked to Wayne," you tell him quietly. "He thinks staying here for a few days is a good idea, too. Said he'd bring you some stuff on his way to work. Is that okay? Will you stay?"

"Do you really want me?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

"Of course I do," you smile. You gaze into his big brown eyes and feel your heart swell. "I'd keep you with me all the time if I could." You kiss his the tip of his nose. "Oh, and Mom says she's making lasagna for dinner, in honor of getting our very own Garfield."

He snorts.

Eddie follows you into the kitchen when it's time for dinner like he usually does. He stays to eat with you several times a week anyway, so nothing feels at all out of the ordinary.

Until he nearly jumps out of his skin when someone knocks at the door. You place a hand on his leg under the table when your mom goes to answer it.

You both let out a quiet sigh of relief when you see Wayne step inside. He follows your mom into the kitchen, carrying a brown grocery bag and Eddie's Sweetheart.

"Can you spare a few minutes for dinner, Wayne?" your mom asks.

"No, ma'am, just came to drop off some stuff for the boy on my way to work."

Eddie gets up to take his things from his uncle.

"Talk to you outside for a minute?" Wayne asks.

"Yeah." Eddie sets his bag and other lover aside and follows Wayne outside. You stare at the door nervously while your mom packs a meal in Tupperware for Wayne to take with him.

When they return, Eddie looks shy, like a kid who's been coached on how to thank relatives for a gift he didn't really want. He takes his seat, and Wayne hovers in the doorway.

"Thank you again for takin' him in, ma'am. He gives you any trouble, you give me a call."

You smirk. Eddie blushes furiously and refuses to look in your direction.

Your mom laughs warmly. "Please. Eddie's never any trouble. We're always happy to have him." She hands the Tupperware container to Wayne. "Take this."

"Ma'am, I--"

"Take it." You're pleased to see that the Don't Argue With Me Voice works on grown-ups too.

"Thank you, ma'am."

Now Eddie's the one smirking, and Wayne's the one blushing.

"Alright," Wayne rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, "I gotta get goin'. Thank you again, ma'am. Call if you need anything. And you?" Eddie looks up to see his uncle pointing at him. "Be good."

Eddie nods, and Wayne leaves with his Tupperware meal.

The rest of dinner passes uneventfully, and afterwards, you and Eddie pick up the Wayne-delivered goods and return to your room to pretend to finish your homework.

"Where can I…?" Eddie spins around in the middle of your room, looking for a safe place to stash Sweetheart.

"Anywhere you want," you smile, placing his bag of clothes in your desk chair and dropping onto the bed. "Mi casa es… Sweetheart's casa?"

He settles her in a corner, then comes to join you on the edge of the bed. He lets out a sigh that it seems like he's been holding for hours. You wrap an arm around his back and rest your chin on his shoulder.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." He leans against you. "Wayne thinks he'll fuck off in a few days. Most of his old buddies are either dead or locked up. He's staying at the shitty motel by the laundromat. Wayne says he'll probably go back to my grandma's when he runs out of money."

"You have a grandma?" you ask.

Eddie waits a beat.

"That's what you got out of that?"

"You've never mentioned her."

He shrugs, making your head bob with his shoulder. "Didn't like my mom. Didn't like me. Don't know much about her."

"What's Wayne think about him being back?"

"Same thing I do. Wish he'd get hit by a fuckin' truck."

You're rubbing your hand up and down his back when a voice calls from the hall.

"I'm watching Dawn of the Dead, if you losers wanna quit sucking face long enough to enjoy some real entertainment."

You lift your head from Eddie's shoulder. "Wanna?"

"Does it mean I don't have to finish my history homework?" he asks hopefully.

"I was gonna skim the chapter and summarize for you anyway."

"Fuck yeah," he grins.

You head to the living room, get comfortable on the couch, and lose yourselves in zombieland for the next two hours. Not what you would've picked for a soothing distraction from a horrifying reality, but it seems to work for Eddie.

He seems calmer as you get ready for bed. You stand together at the bathroom sink to brush your teeth, letting the toothpaste dribble out of your mouths and growling like zombies at each other in the mirror.

This is, of course, when your mother walks by to say goodnight: When you've both got toothpaste dripping off your chins.

"I don't even want to know," she shakes her head, trying and failing to conceal her smile. "Everything's locked up, I'm going to bed." She doesn't usually announce that everything's locked up, but you appreciate her trying to pass it off as normal for Eddie's benefit.

"G'night," you both gurgle through your foam-filled mouths. She lightly smacks her own forehead with her palm and walks away laughing. You lean forward to spit and grin at each other in the mirror.

Once the lights are off and you're in bed, Eddie practically crawls on top of you. You hold him tight and stroke his hair, finding that one spot on his scalp that's been known to knock him out. It works. You hope his dreams are much happier than his reality as you begin to drift off to the sound of his steady breathing.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, fuck."

You open your eyes to a strange chant and suddenly remember that Eddie is supposed to be with you. You can't feel him. You roll out of bed and turn on the lamp. He's kneeling on the mattress, hair a mess.

"Turn around," he orders. "Don't look."

"Eddie, what's going on?"

"Turn around!"

You're in such a panic, you can't just turn your back on him. Your eyes drift from his frantic eyes to the wet spot he's trying to shield with his body. When your eyes meet his again, he crumbles.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry," he cries.

"Babe, it's okay," you begin.

"I'm so fucking sorry, just let me get my shit and I'll go," he continues.

"Eddie, would you stop?"

"I wish I was fucking dead, I'm so fuc--"

"Eddie! Stop!" Your sharp tone scares him enough to make him stop rambling.

You step toward a corner of the bed and pull the sheet back to reveal what's underneath.

"Look. Mattress pad. Easy fix. By morning, we can pretend it never happened."

He looks from the white corner of the fabric to you, and then back again. His mouth opens and closes several times.

You lean against your dresser and speak softly, resisting the urge to close the distance and embarrass him further. "You're aware that I hemorrhage for a significant amount of time every month, right?"

He nods.

"Sometimes I bleed through. My last mattress looked like such a murder scene, Mom was afraid to transport it across state lines. It's not a big deal. I go through this all the time."

He sniffs.

"Why don't you go hop in the shower? Just put your clothes in the hamper, and I'll throw a load of laundry in."

He starts to protest.

"Nobody'll suspect a thing," you cut him off before he can even begin. "I go through this at least once a month. It's practically expected of me. Nobody'll know."

He looks downward, and you let him consider his options.

"Can you turn around?" he asks quietly.

"Yep."

You turn your back and hear him rustling through his paper bag, and then hear the door open and close. You strip the sheets - only the bottom sheet had any traces of his shame - and ball them up.

You weren't lying; this does happen occasionally. Perhaps not as often as you implied, but enough that nobody would raise an eyebrow at the washing machine going at 3 am. You clean the spot on the mattress pad, change the sheets, re-make the bed, and grab clean pajamas. You'll throw your current ones in with the load, to support your 'It Was Me' story, should anyone question it. (They won't, but it would probably make Eddie feel better.)

"Did any get on you?" He'd crept back into your room so quietly, you hadn't even noticed him. He's eyeing the fresh stack of pajamas you've placed on top of the dresser.

"Nope," you smile, turning around. "Figured we could do with a complete re-set. I'll be right back."

You grab the sheets in one hand and your pajamas in the other, and head to the bathroom to collect Eddie's clothes.

Four minutes later, you return to your room. Eddie is sitting on the floor, leaning against your dresser, his knees to his chest. You sit next to him, but not close enough to touch him. Not yet.

"Please don't beat yourself up over this," you beg. "It's not a big deal."

"Fucking embarrassing."

"Eddie?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

He doesn't respond. You stretch your legs out in front of you, cross your ankles, and get comfortable.

"You know I'm gonna marry you one of these days, right?"

Still nothing.

"What do you reckon our life expectancy is? I figure we've got what, maybe 50 years ahead of us? That's a lot of time."

You place your hand on the floor between you, palm up, to see if he'll take it. He doesn't.

"I'm gonna love you forever," you inform him. "Sickness, health, weird haircuts, awful tattoos, all that jazz. I will love you if you suddenly develop a fondness for Madonna or disco dancing. I'll even love you if you become that guy who brings an acoustic guitar to parties and expects everyone to sit around and listen to him. Actually, maybe not with that one. Please don't be that guy." You pause, hoping for a laugh. When it doesn't come, you clear your throat and continue. "Point is, there's almost nothing that could make me stop loving you. This, right here? Doesn't change a thing. I fucking love you. Get used to it."

He lets it sink in, and then he sighs. Finally, he reaches for your hand. Your fingers lace together. You look over at him, and he slowly meets your eye.

"I fucking love you too."

"You better, Munson," you wink.

He smiles a tiny smile.

"Ready to go back to bed?"

He hesitates and asks, "Can I go out and smoke first?"

"Baby, you're a refugee, not a prisoner. You don't have to ask permission to leave."

"Right," he groans, hauling himself off the floor. He holds out his hands to help you up, and you take them.

"Do you want company, or do you need a minute?" you ask once you're standing.

He shrugs, looking at the floor.

"Because that's okay," you smile, reaching up to brush his hair out of his face.

"What's okay?"

"Needing a minute," you explain. "I just announced my intention to lock you down forever. We're probably gonna occasionally need a minute to ourselves."

"You can come with me," he whispers, kissing your forehead.

You follow him to the back door, put on your jackets and shove your feet into your shoes, and step out into the darkness. You sit next to each other on the porch steps, resting your head on his shoulder and huddling together for warmth as Eddie smokes in silence. It's pretty peaceful out tonight. The black sky is cloudless and dotted with stars. The air feels clean and crisp. Eddie's body provides just enough heat that you're not too bothered by the cold.

He seems calmer after he smokes his cigarette down to the butt, but he uses the tip to light another. It's going to be a long night. You press your fingers between your thighs, starting to feel the chill set in.

"You know the Speedway just this side of the county line?"

A run-down gas station with a cracked parking lot and a flickering neon sign comes to mind. Yeah. You know of it, but you've never been in. Gareth had suggested dropping in for snacks once when you passed by, but Eddie had said everything in there was overpriced and kept driving. You hadn't thought anything of it at the time; you and Eddie are 7-Eleven people, after all.

"Yeah," you whisper.

Eddie pauses so long, you wonder if he's reconsidering telling you whatever he was about to reveal.

"We were on a beer run," he says eventually. "Dad was already hammered. Ran over our mailbox and took out the neighbor's trash can on the way out. Swerved all over the road. I used to think it was fun, riding like that, but looking back I'm surprised nobody died." Eddie stops to take a long drag. "I stuck a pack of Sno-Balls under my shirt while Dad was paying for his beer. You know, those pink coconut cakes?" He glances at you for confirmation, and you nod. "The thought of those things makes me sick now. But when you're that hungry, they look fuckin' amazing. Anyway, the cashier spotted me and said something. Dad's face… I mean, it was already red from the drinking. But it looked like his head was going to explode. Eyes poppin' out of his head, vein throbbing in his neck. He grabbed me by the hair and just started whalin' on me, right there in the middle of the store. I heard people yelling, but I… I kinda just scrunched my eyes shut and waited for it to be over, like I always did. And then when I opened them again, Hop had the old man pinned to the floor."

Eddie sniffles and drags his sleeve across his face.

"I know you've never seen my dad, but he's not a big guy. Hopper could've fucking demolished him. But Hop had a busted lip. Blood just dripping out of his mouth and onto the old man. Sometimes I wonder… if maybe Hop let him get a swing in just 'cause he knew that's what it would take to finally put him away. And it did. He got 15 years for assaulting a cop."

A tear streaks down your cheek, and a smile tugs at your lips.

"Took three guys to haul Dad off. Still kicking and screaming. At me, at Hop, I dunno. But Hopper's the one who took me to Wayne's. Bought me a hot dog to eat on the way, and I think it might've been the best fucking thing I've ever eaten. Even with the sore jaw the old man gave me for getting caught. He always said to never trust a cop, but Hop… he's saved my ass more than once. I guess…" Eddie stubs out cigarette #2 and chuckles. "I guess if you have to leave me for somebody, Hop's a decent choice."

You knock your knee against his, lifting your head off his shoulder to look at him. His eyes are shiny and tear-filled in the moonlight. Is it a crime to think he's beautiful like this?

"What can I say?" you grin. "I've got great taste in men."

Eddie snorts, shakes his head, and stands. He offers you his hands, and you take them and let him help you off the steps. When you stand, he pulls you in for a hug.

"Thanks," he mumbles into your hair. "For tonight. For everything."

You feel like something needs to be said, but you can't find the right words. Instead, you hold him tight and kiss the side of his neck. He melts into you. You stand there, stuck together on your back porch, until a shiver rips through your body.

"Jeez, make us stand outside in the cold all night and get sick, why don't ya," Eddie grumbles, pulling away and putting his hands on your shoulders. He turns you around and pushes you toward the door. "Get inside where it's warm, you crazy woman. You've gotta take care of me for the next 50 years, you don't get to check out early."

You laugh quietly and let him push you inside. You silently shed your jackets and shoes and return to your bedroom, snuggling into your clean sheets and holding onto each other for warmth.

Four days later, Wayne stopped by to tell Eddie that his old man was back in jail where he belonged. Unable to resist the sight of the bar across the street from the shitty motel he was staying in, he'd wandered over, drank too much, and picked a fight with the guy on the stool next to him...

Who happened to be an off-duty Indiana State Trooper, visiting Hawkins to have a drink with an old friend named Jim Hopper.