#if i get any more asks like this you’re getting blocked

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Captain's Orders 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, controlling behaviour, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The Captain takes it upon himself to change your life.

Characters: Steve Rogers

Note: I am still dizzy her and there but feeling a bit better.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You wouldn’t call it doom scrolling. That’s not what this is. You try not to search out the depressing headlines or the studies of the human character assuring you of your race’s inherent flaws. Yet, all those boastful posts about engagements, weddings, and promotions still make you feel crummy. 

Jealous? Sure. You don’t have any of those things and it isn’t as if you can hope for as much, either. You’re in a dead-end job, living in cramped apartment with your sister and her irresponsible friend, and your romantic life is next to non-existent; not that you’ve been looking. None of that is meant for you, otherwise, you’d have had some glimmer of interest by now. 

It’s like quicksand. Not very quick but it pulls you down lower and lower. Sinking and sinking until all you can see is the muck. There’s no way out now, you’re waist deep in it. 

You click under your favourite communities and start a new post. You don’t make many. Mostly you read and judge silently. You’re a lurker. Like in many facets of your life. You watch, you don’t do. But you’ve had a shitty day and you need to just let it out. 

Your fingers move as your thoughts boil in your head; your nagging manager, your lazy landlord, and your immature roommates. Nothing ever goes your way. Everyone else has it figured out and you’re just left to rot. You try! You do. Resumes, profiles on friendship apps, online courses; free, of course, it’s all you can afford, but you do try to improve yourself. It just doesn’t work. 

You hit ‘post’ and close the lid of your ancient laptop. It’s as thick as a book. The battery doesn’t hold a charge and the fan is as loud as a jet. You fall back onto your bed and look around your tiny room. That’s all you have. This space is as much as you can call your own and not really. You rent it, it can be taken away with one of those red stamped notices. 

You yawn and drag yourself up. A whole shift and you didn’t bother to have more than the bland break room coffee spewed from the off-brand pod machine and a couple sticks of gum. Tia got herself sushi before her shift but she can just ask her parents to send her money to cover her Door Dash addiction. 

You plod out to the kitchen. Your sister closes the fridge and cracks the tab of a beer can. You’re sure it isn’t her first.  

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Shea bobbles her head. 

Funny since Donna pretty much hollered at you for interrupting her TV show. You all pitched in on the flat screen yet it’s never your turn with it. You shrug and go to the cupboard. It’s not sushi but the spicy shrimp ramen isn’t too bad... 

“You work?” You ask. 

“Pfft, no. Didn’t I say I was going to lunch with Mason?” 

“Did you?” You take down at bowl. She probably did. You never remember. She’s always got a date or a party or a fall back. If she can’t make rent, she’ll smile a cute guy and get some money. 

“He bought me some shoes! You’ll never believe.” 

“Right,” you try not to seethe. 

You’re scraping the bottom of the barrel. You’re eating sodium-laced noodles and holding back tears against old people wanting to print out their life story from a corrupt PDF. She’s pretty. She doesn’t have to try. Shea is all the proof you need that some people are just lucky. 

You put the electric kettle onto boil and the smell of burnt—something makes your lip curl. You pop the lid and look inside. It’s brown. What the hell? 

“What’s wrong with this?” You ask as you flip off the switch. 

“Donna!” Shea yells, “what did you do to the kettle?” No answer. Your sister hollers again. 

A door swings open and Donna stomps out with a huff. Her face is green as she has a mask spread over it and eye masks pasted beneath her lashes. 

“I’m getting ready--” 

“The kettle stinks,” you reach for a pot and find none. They’re all stacked and waiting to be washed. You snatch one off the top and flip on the faucet. 

“Oh, I heated up some bone broth in it. I’m doing a cleanse,” she smirks. “Tasted kinda weird.” 

“Bone broth?” You scoff. See. You try, they can’t even clean dishes. “Great.” 

“I’m sure it’s fine, just rinse it out,” Shea says. 

You scrub the pan and ignore her. You glance up as she slurps noisily from the can. Pre-drinks. Her and Donna are going out. Again. They can afford to because they don’t buy their own drinks. They don’t need to. You went out with them once and paid for all of your own, even though you’d have been happy enough with a single round. 

“Have fun,” you dry out the pan and slam it on the burner. 

“Jeez, maybe you should loosen up?” Donna chides. 

“Yeah, come with us. Dance it out,” Shea drawls. 

“No thanks,” you twist the knob and light the burner. “I have work tomorrow.” 

“Call innnnn,” Shea insists. 

“I can’t,” you sniff and step back to wait for the water to boil. 

“Boring,” she chirps. 

“Yep, I am,” you cross your arms. Your annoyed. When the go out, you’ll have to clean up this mess. You can’t handle another bout of fruit flies. 

You put the noodles in and let them soften. You stir in the oil and powder then retreat to your room with the bowl of boiling cholesterol. You let it cool and put a video on your phone. You don’t want to think. 

You eat deliberately. You savour the processed flavouring. You can’t go out sneak a midnight snack; Donna ate all your cookies. You label all your stuff in thick marker and she apparently can’t read. 

You hear them leave. They’re loud. They leave the television on. At high volume. 

You go out and shut it off. You need to sleep soon. Opening always comes after a late shift. Otherwise, how else would the corporation keep you disempowered. 

You open your laptop. You’ll but on some lo-fi while you charge your phone. Heck, the fan is like white noise on its own. 

The little red number at the bottom of the page stops you. You left the browser open. Someone actually responded to your post. You click and your stomach drops as you read the first sentence. 

‘Sounds like you cause a lot of your own problems. Maybe try some mindful exercises and get out more. You should also consider making some friends.’ 

You read it over and over. You’re angry. Hurt, too. But most that first thing. You can’t stop from replying. 

‘You got all that from me venting? I wasn’t asking for advice. I walk to and from work and I have friends.’ 

It’s mostly true. You do walk. Most days. And your sister is a friend, isn’t she? By association, so is Donna. 

Before you can look up your favourite twelve-hour lo-fi, another notification pops up. 

‘Looking at your post history, your diet could use some improvements. More veggies. And walking is a good starting point but you need to increase your endorphins. I’d be happy to send you some helpful guides. They’re easily searchable on the internet. We live in the age of information, you should consider taking advantage of that.’ 

Wow, what an asshole. He’s smug and obviously better than you. You click on his username and scroll through. Just as you expect. He posts in fitness communities. Not any videos of him but sharing tutorials and recipes for high-protein smoothies and fibre-laced juices. He wouldn’t know flavour if it puked in his mouth. 

You his ‘esc’ and go back to your own post; ‘thanks for the advice. Have a good one.; 

That’s it. You’re not arguing with some faceless douche on the internet. His response is as quick as the first. 

‘A helpful link.’ He hyperlinks the words. ‘You should at least stretch in the morning and go outside on your breaks at work. You might work long shifts but it’s no excuse to be lazy. If you’ve been in that role for so long, you should have more than enough references to move on to something that doesn’t make you miserable.’ 

You don’t answer. You know if you do, you’ll just embarrass yourself. Judging by the few pics of his real life and his cadence, he’s got everything. He just thinks it’s a matter of mindset. There can’t possibly be anything else which could make things more difficult for people. You just don’t work hard enough. Duh, everyone always says so. 

You close out of the page. If he replies again, you’ll block him. Simple as. You put on a lo-fi track and dim the screen. You roll over and tuck into bed. You fall asleep in a ball of stress; you have to wake up, shower, do all that human stuff, then make yourself face another eight hours of hell. 

⭐

“I hate working at the fucking copy desk,” you hiss as you take your bag from the cubby in the break room. “Good luck.” 

Darcy gives you a look as she sits at one of the tables, waiting for her shift to start. You grit your teeth as you should your purse and grip your jacket tight. You punch your employee number into the clock then head out. 

As you march down the aisle of toner, a customer tries to stop you. “I’m off duty.” 

“But I need a keyboard.” 

You ignore them and keep going. 

“I’m going to tell a manager, young lady!” 

You don’t care. Besides, why are they looking for a keyboard in the toner aisle. The signs above with the giant letters clearly show that the computer accessories are in the opposite corner. 

People are stupid. They might be able to read, technically, but they definitely lack comprehension. Just like Donna who can’t keep her hands off your snacks. 

You walk home in a simmer. If you let your temper get away from you, you won’t be able to hold back when you walk into the inevitable shit show waiting for you at home. Shea and Donna hungover, probably having got into more of your sparse groceries, and amidst a brand new mess for you to tidy. You won’t not this time. 

You have a mission. Go to your room and don’t come out. 

As you enter your building, you find the elevator non-responsive. A tiny post-it is stuck to the doors. ‘Out of Order’. Couldn’t have made something a bit more legible? 

You take the stairs. The hallway smells like onion and dirty clothes. You take out your keys as you get to your door, ignoring the rabble coming from the apartment next to yours. Before you can get your key in the slot, the door opens. 

“Heyyyy, she’s back,” Shea greets. You blink at her in confusion. Is she already drunk again? 

“Starting already?” You ask as you try to get past her. 

“Hm, no,” she says tritely, “you have a guest.” 

You roll your eyes, “don’t be a bitch, alright?” 

“No, really,” she grins. You stop and look her up and down. She isn’t falling apart like usual after a Friday night. Her hair is done, her makeup too, and she’s not in her sweats.  

“Is it mom?” You whisper. 

She snorts, “you’re stupid. No, it’s your friend. Steve.” She backs up with a shimmy, “I think some people call him Captain.” 

You make a face. What? 

“Who...” 

“Ahem,” a figure appears by the corner of the kitchen counter, “I didn’t mean to intrude.” 

You crane to see over Shea’s shoulder. The man behind her is tall. And familiar. Steve Rogers. Your expression contorts as your lashes flutter in confusion. 

“Not at all, Stevie,” Shea spins, “I’ll give you two the room. So nice to meet you.” 

She squeezes by him and touches his forearm as she does. He doesn’t react. She giggles and flits off. Her door shuts but you can tell that the latch didn’t catch. She’s listening. 

“Should we go outside? Get some sun?” He asks. 

You glance at him again. You’re lost. 

“Do I know you?” You grimace. 

“After all day under fluorescent, you should really get out--” 

“I-- I’m sorry, can you slow down and explain--” 

“Outside. Privately,” he says. 

You peek past him then look into the hallway behind you. You search your mind for an explanation. The only place you know him from is the internet or a history book. 

“Like I said before, going outside can really help with mood issues.” 

You hesitate and your mouth falls open. It can’t be... 

“Was that you? Last night?” You shake your head. 

“How about I buy you a smoothie?” He offers. 

You snap your mouth shut. He can’t be serious. This can’t be real. 

[crossfandomskylines]

Anywhere But Here

Summary: A Valentine's Day singles event was the last place you wanted to be until an unexpected conversation with Bradley Bradshaw turned the night into something else entirely. What started as shared sarcasm and an easy connection quickly became something deeper. And by the time the night was over you realized maybe fate had other plans after all.

Warnings: 18+. Suggestive Content (some nudity, heavy making out, implied smut but none directly), Alcohol Consumption, Mild Language.

Word Count: 4,389

Author's Note: Still struggling with a little bit of writer's block because of my headspace but managed to write this over the past few days and I think it turned out okay. This is my first time writing for Bradley so I'd love any feedback you guys have! I'm also still a little rough around the edges when it comes to writing smut so I'm sorry if that part isn't good. Hope you enjoy xx

You should have known better than to let your friends talk you into this. The dim lighting, the too loud music, the room full of strangers who all seemed to have the same agenda. It was everything you hated about Valentine’s Day wrapped into one overcrowded venue. 

Somewhere across the room your friends were probably watching and feeling satisfied that they’d successfully dragged you out, but they weren’t the ones stuck making small talk with men who either wanted a rebound, a hookup, or a therapist.

You sighed as you swirled the cheap cocktail in your glass as the third guy of the night launched into a monologue about his “complicated” relationship with his ex.

“Sounds rough,” you said nodding absently.

“Right? And she just doesn’t get that I need space,” he continued, leaning in like you were supposed to be impressed by his emotional unavailability.

You were about to excuse yourself and find your friends when suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the conversation.

"Is this seat taken?" Bradley Bradshaw’s voice was easy, casual, like you hadn’t just been trapped in a one-sided conversation about someone’s divorce for the last fifteen minutes. You blinked in surprise, looking up to find Bradley standing beside you. You couldn’t help the relief that flooded through you at his arrival, a smile tugging at your lips. 

“Bradley,” you said with a chuckle, knowing full well he’d been watching from the corner of the room. 

You’d always known of Bradley. He was part of the same circle of friends though you’d never really talked outside of the occasional greeting or passing comment at group events. He was always nice enough, just not someone you ever felt a need to connect with more deeply.

He raised an eyebrow at the guy you were talking to, still unaware of his impending rescue. “Mind if I steal her for a minute?” Bradley asked, looking at you with an easy grin.

The guy hesitated for a moment, eyes darting between you and Bradley before he finally nodded, mumbling something about catching up with some people. Bradley’s lips twitched in amusement as he pulled the barstool out and took a seat next to you, making it clear he wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

As the guy shuffled away, Bradley glanced at you and whispered, “I’ve got to hand it to you, you were handling that a lot better than I would have. I’d have run for the hills by now.” His grin was teasing, but there was a warmth in his eyes, an unspoken understanding.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “It wasn’t that bad, I just didn’t know how to get out of the conversation without being rude.”

Bradley leaned back, getting comfortable. “Yeah, well, you’re lucky I was nearby. My friends usually do a pretty bad job of saving me from stuff like that. But if it helps, I’m pretty good at the rescue mission.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him with a smirk. “I’m sure you are. But I’m guessing Jake and Mickey had something to do with this little rescue operation?”

Bradley chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Guilty as charged. They’ve been trying to convince me to get out here all night. Apparently, they think I’m a really good wingman.” He grinned, clearly not taking the comment too seriously. “But between you and me, I’m just here for the free drinks.”

“Free drinks? I think I missed that memo?”

Bradley grinned as he motioned towards where Jake was across the room. “His price for dragging me out tonight was picking up my tab.”

Bradley leaned against the bar, nodding toward your empty glass. “Speaking of…need a refill?”

You hesitated, but he shrugged, adding, “Promise I won’t try to trauma-dump on you.”

That earned him a small smirk. “Well, in that case… sure.”

He flagged down the bartender, ordering for you without making a big deal of it. As you waited, you glanced around the room at the couples awkwardly chatting, the guys clearly scanning for their next target, the women trying to seem interested but mostly looking bored.

“This might be the worst Valentine’s Day event in existence,” you muttered.

Bradley let out a low chuckle. “That bad, huh?”

You turned back to him, arching a brow. “Come on, you’ve gotta admit half these people don’t even want to be here.”

He shrugged, smirking. “That includes us, doesn’t it?”

You laughed. “Fair point.”

The bartender slid your drink across the bar, and you murmured a thanks before turning back to Bradley. Somehow, standing next to him felt…easy.

“So, what were you doing before you got roped into this disaster?” he asked, taking a sip of his own drink.

You shrugged. “Had plans to drink wine, eat chocolate, and watch literally anything that wasn’t romance related. But my friends staged an intervention.”

Bradley smirked. “Tragic. What were you gonna watch?”

“Probably a concert film. You know, something that really captures the Valentine’s Day spirit.”

His grin widened. “Concert film, huh? What band?”

You lit up, immediately launching into a mini rant about your favorite band. You talked about their best albums, the time you saw them live, how their early work was underrated but their newer stuff still held up.

And Bradley listened. Not in the way people do when they’re just waiting for their turn to talk, but in a way that made it clear he was actually interested. He nodded along, grinning at your enthusiasm, occasionally asking a question or making a comment that proved he was keeping up.

At some point the noise of the bar faded into the background. The awkwardness of the event, the forced conversations, the reason you even came here in the first place…it all disappeared. It was just you and Bradley talking like this was the most natural thing in the world.

And you kind of liked it.

The DJ must have had a cruel sense of humor because without warning the music shifted from upbeat pop to something softer. Something that clearly signaled it was time for couples to pair off.

Around the room, people hesitated before awkwardly stepping closer to their dates or scanning for someone to dance with. You weren’t planning on participating until you caught movement out of the corner of your eye. It was him. The guy Bradley had saved you from earlier. He was lingering near the bar, glancing in your direction like he was debating coming over for round two.

You groaned under your breath. Bradley must have followed your gaze because he leaned in slightly, voice low and amused. “Uh oh. I think your ex therapy patient wants a second session.”

You shot him a look. “Don’t even joke.”

His lips twitched like he was fighting back a laugh. Then after a beat he nudged you with his elbow. “We could always pretend to be together. Save you from another deep dive into his complicated emotions.”

You arched a brow. “Oh, we could, huh?”

Bradley shrugged. “I mean I’d hate to see you suffer.”

You rolled your eyes but honestly? The idea didn’t sound half bad. Better than standing here pretending not to notice your former conversation partner lurking nearby.

“…Fine,” you sighed.

His grin was instant like he’d known you’d agree. Without another word he reached for your hand, his fingers warm as they laced easily through yours. Before you could process that he was already tugging you toward the dance floor.

“Smooth,” you muttered as you followed.

He glanced back smirking. “I have my moments.”

You stopped near the edge of the dance floor where other couples had already started swaying to the music. Bradley turned to face you, his expression a mix of amusement and something softer, unreadable.

“Alright,” he said, his voice teasing but gentle as he placed one hand at your waist. “Try not to fall in love with me.”

You snorted. “I’ll do my best.”

Dancing with Bradley was… easy. You had expected it to be awkward and stiff like the kind of slow dances you endured at high school prom. But he moved with an effortless confidence, his hand steady at your waist, his grip firm but not overbearing.

“So,” he said, his voice warm and low over the music, “how am I doing so far? Best fake Valentine’s date you’ve ever had?”

You smirked. “I don’t know. The bar’s pretty low. But I’ll give you points for effort.”

Bradley let out a soft chuckle, his thumb absently tracing small, slow circles where it rested against your waist. You weren’t sure if he even realized he was doing it, but you noticed. And suddenly, the room felt just a little warmer.

The first song came to an end, and for a second, you thought about stepping back, about making some teasing remark and putting space between you. But before you could, the opening chords of a new song filled the air. A song from your favorite band. Your favorite song.

Your eyes widened. “No way.”

Bradley’s mouth quirked into a knowing grin. “What are the odds?”

You looked up at him, suspicious. “You didn’t request this, did you?”

He shook his head, smirking. “Nope. But now that it’s playing, it’d be wrong not to keep dancing.”

Before you could argue—not that you really wanted to—he pulled you back in.

And this time, you let yourself sink into it.

Somewhere between the first verse and the chorus, the space between you disappeared. His hands settled more firmly at your waist, his fingers pressing lightly into the fabric of your shirt. Without really thinking about it, your arms slid up, looping around his neck.

You felt him exhale, a quiet little laugh against your temple. “See? You’re having fun.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “Don’t let it go to your head, Rooster.”

He grinned, tilting his head slightly. “Too late.”

The warmth of him, the way his chest brushed yours with every slow step, the way his voice curled around your name when he murmured it just loud enough for you to hear. It all felt so natural and easy, like you’d been dancing with him forever instead of just minutes.

And when he made a dry teasing comment about one of the couples beside you, something about their awkward middle school dance stance you tipped your head back and laughed.

The sound must have done something to him because his hold on you tightened, just slightly. Just enough that you felt it. Just enough that you didn’t want to let go.

The song drifted into its final chords, but neither of you stepped away immediately. You were still close. Closer than you probably should have been considering this whole thing had started as an excuse to avoid bad small talk.

Bradley was looking at you, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips, like he knew exactly what he was doing. Like he knew you weren’t in a hurry to move either. But then the DJ switched back to something obnoxiously upbeat, and the spell broke.

Bradley exhaled, glancing around before leaning down slightly, speaking just loud enough for you to hear. “Alright. You wanna get out of here?”

You arched a brow, pretending to consider it. “Bradley Bradshaw, are you trying to take me home?”

His smirk widened. “Would it work?”

You scoffed, even as heat curled in your stomach. “Not a chance.”

He chuckled. “Good to know.” Then, with an easy shrug, he added, “I was thinking we could go do something actually fun.”

You tilted your head. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“I don’t know yet. But I promise it’ll be better than this disaster.” He gestured around the bar where people were still fumbling their way through awkward conversations and stilted dances.

You eyed him, considering. “You do realize this is how horror movies start, right? Some girl follows a charming guy into the night, never to be seen again.”

Bradley placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “You wound me.”

You bit back a grin. “Shouldn’t you buy me dinner first?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “You hungry?”

You blinked. “…Are you serious?”

Bradley grinned. “Why not? We ditch this place, get some food, and actually enjoy the rest of the night.”

You should have said no. You should have come up with an excuse, played it safe, stuck to your original plan of going home alone.

But instead, you found yourself saying, “Alright, Bradshaw. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

His grin turned downright smug. “Knew you couldn’t resist.”

You rolled your eyes, but you let him take your hand anyway, following him toward the exit. Leaving behind the bad dates, the awkward glances, and the Valentine’s Day you thought you were going to have, and stepping into the one you never saw coming.

The bar door swung shut behind you, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the stuffy heat inside. You hadn’t realized how loud it was until now. It was so much easier to breathe out here.

Bradley, still holding your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, shot you a look. “Alright, I’m thinking pizza. And not some fancy, sit down place. I mean real pizza.”

You smirked. “Define real pizza.”

His eyes glinted. “Late night counter service, greasy but perfect pizza.”

“…Go on.”

“There’s a spot a few blocks from here. Open late, no frills, just damn good food.”

You pretended to think about it, though your stomach had already made the decision for you. “Fine. But if it sucks, I’m never trusting you again.”

Bradley laughed, leading the way down the sidewalk. “That’s a lot of pressure, sweetheart.”

When you arrived after a short walk from the bar, the place was exactly as he’d described. A hole in the wall joint with neon signs buzzing faintly in the window and the unmistakable scent of fresh pizza wafting out the door.

Bradley let you step inside first, the warmth from the ovens immediately washing over you. The glass display case was lined with massive slices ready to grab and go.

“Alright,” he said scanning the selection. “You a toppings person, or are we keeping it classic?”

“Pepperoni,” you answered without hesitation.

His smile was approving. “Good choice.” He turned to the guy behind the counter. “Two slices of pepperoni, please.”

You arched a brow. “Two? What if I wanted two slices?”

Bradley gave you a look. “Trust me. You won’t want the second when you see the size of these.”

He wasn’t wrong.

A few minutes later, you were standing outside, each holding a massive, perfectly greasy slice, the warmth seeping into your fingers as you took your first bite.

You groaned. “Okay. Fine. You were right. This is really good pizza.”

Bradley grinned, chewing his own bite. “Told you.”

The street was quiet, save for the occasional car rolling by and the faint hum of city life in the distance. For a moment, you just stood there, eating in comfortable silence.

Then, Bradley wiped his fingers on a napkin and glanced over at you. “So.”

You swallowed your bite, eyeing him warily. “So.”

His smirk was lazy, unreadable. “Wanna head back to my place?”

You nearly choked. “Wow. Straight to the point, huh?”

Bradley laughed. “Not like that.” He gestured to the nearly empty street. “It’s still early. I figured we could keep hanging out…unless you’re dying to go home.”

You hesitated for a moment, considering the offer. It wasn’t that late, and you weren’t tired. And if you were being honest with yourself you didn’t really want to say goodnight yet.

“…Alright, Bradshaw,” you said, giving him a knowing look. And just like that, you found yourself following him into the night.

When you reached the curb, he gestured toward an old but well kept Bronco parked under the glow of a streetlamp. It suited him. It was rugged, classic, and also a little effortlessly cool.

You expected him to climb in first, but instead he reached for the passenger door, pulling it open.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Seriously?”

Bradley just shrugged, stepping back to give you space. “What? You think I don’t have manners?”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “I don’t know. I just didn’t peg you as the door-opening type.”

His smirk was subtle but genuine. “Guess I like keeping you on your toes.”

Still eyeing him, you slid into the seat. The door shut with a solid thunk, and a moment later Bradley was rounding the hood and climbing in behind the wheel.

Bradley’s place was exactly what you would’ve expected. Laid back, a little old school, but effortlessly him. Warm lighting, a well-loved couch, a few framed photos on the walls, and a record player in the corner. It felt lived in, comfortable.

“You want a beer?” he asked as he tossed his keys onto the counter.

You nodded, stepping further inside. “Yeah, sure.”

Bradley grabbed two from the fridge, popping the caps off with practiced ease before handing one to you. You took a sip as he led you toward the couch, where he sank down with an easy sprawl.

You hesitated for half a second before sitting next to him, tucking your legs underneath you. The conversation picked up right where it had left off with music, movies, dumb things you’d both done as kids.

At some point you kicked off your shoes and stretched your legs out, your sock clad feet nudging his thigh. Bradley didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he absentmindedly rested a hand on your shin as he talked, fingers tracing lazy patterns against the fabric of your jeans.

You should’ve noticed it earlier. That shift, that subtle change in the air. Because somewhere between the teasing and the laughter, something had settled in the space between you. Something quieter. Heavier. Bradley’s fingers stilled against your leg, his gaze flicking to yours.

You swallowed. “What?”

He shook his head, his voice softer now. “Nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing, and you both knew it. The air crackled, and before you could second guess it, you were shifting closer. Bradley’s hand slid up, palm skimming your knee before settling at your waist. His fingers curled there, warm and steady.

You weren’t sure who leaned in first, but suddenly, he was right there. His breath fanned across your lips, his eyes locked onto yours, searching.

And then he kissed you. It was slow at first, just the soft press of his lips against yours, like he was testing the waters. But when you didn’t pull away and you kissed him back,he deepened it, his hand tightening at your waist as he pulled you closer.

Your fingers found the back of his neck, threading into his hair, and he groaned low in his throat, a sound that sent heat curling through your stomach. By the time you finally broke apart, you were breathless.

Bradley rested his forehead against yours, his lips quirking. “So… I’m guessing you don’t regret leaving that singles event?”

You laughed, still catching your breath. “Not even a little bit.”

Bradley’s hands were still resting at your waist, warm and steady, as you hovered just inches from him. The air between you felt charged, humming with something unspoken but undeniable. You moved first, shifting onto your knees before slowly swinging a leg over his lap, settling yourself against him. Bradley inhaled sharply, his hands tightening their hold on you like he was still processing what was happening, like he needed a second to let himself feel you there.

“Yeah?” His voice was low, rough around the edges, his hands twitching slightly against your hips.

You nodded, fingers trailing up the back of his neck as you leaned in. “Yeah.”

That was all he needed.

His mouth met yours again, deeper this time, the hesitancy from before fading as he pulled you closer, molding you against him. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly, and he let out a quiet groan that sent a shiver down your spine.

His hands, large and warm, traced slow circles at your waist before slipping under your shirt. His palms pressed against your bare skin, mapping their way up your sides, his touch reverent like he was savoring every inch of you.

He paused, giving you a chance to stop him, but you weren’t going anywhere. You lifted your arms, silently telling him to keep going, and Bradley took his time easing your shirt up and over your head, his eyes flickering over your newly exposed skin. His fingers followed the path of his gaze, tracing along your ribs, your back, your shoulders.

“Damn,” he murmured, almost to himself, before leaning in to kiss you again, slower this time, deeper, his lips moving with purpose as his hands roamed over you.

You shifted in his lap, pressing closer, and that was when something changed. His grip on you tightened, his fingers digging into your skin like he suddenly couldn’t get enough. His kisses turned hungrier, his breath heavier as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss until all you could do was melt into him.

You gasped as his mouth trailed along your jaw, then down the column of your throat, his lips and tongue leaving a heated path in their wake. His hands moved again, exploring more boldly now, and you arched into him, letting yourself feel everything. His touch, his warmth, the way he was unraveling right along with you.

Your fingers moved with growing urgency, skimming over Bradley’s shoulders as you tried to push off that damn ugly printed shirt. But the fabric bunched awkwardly at his arms, refusing to cooperate. Frustrated, you tugged harder, reaching for the undershirt beneath it too, wanting them both gone except now you were tangled in two layers of fabric, and nothing was coming off the way you wanted.

Bradley chuckled against your skin, his breath warm where his lips had been trailing along your collarbone. 

“Impatient, huh?” His voice was teasing, but there was something deeper laced in it too, something thick with amusement and want.

You huffed, still struggling. “If you’d stop wearing so many damn layers—”

He cut you off with another quiet laugh before leaning back slightly. “Here,” he murmured, his hands covering yours, steadying them. “Let me help you out, sweetheart.”

Your stomach flipped at the easy way the endearment rolled off his tongue, but before you could dwell on it, Bradley took control. He shrugged out of the over shirt first, letting it drop to the floor before crossing his arms to pull the undershirt over his head in one smooth motion.

And damn.

Your breath hitched as you finally took him in. His broad shoulders, toned chest, the soft trail of hair leading down his stomach. His dog tags rested against his skin, catching the low light of the room, and for a moment, you just stared.

Bradley smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Better?”

You didn’t answer. Not with words, anyway. Instead, you leaned in, hands splaying against his bare chest as you kissed him again, slow and deep, making sure he felt exactly how much you appreciated the view.

Bradley groaned against your lips, his hands sliding back to your waist before gripping your hips firmly, grounding you against him. The kiss deepened, turning messier, more desperate, and when you rolled your hips just slightly, testing the friction, that was when he lost the last bit of his restraint.

His grip tightened, his breath shuddering against your mouth. “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart.”

You smirked. “Maybe I like the heat.”

His eyes darkened, his jaw tightening for half a second before he suddenly moved, flipping you onto your back on the couch in one swift motion.

You barely had time to gasp before he was hovering over you, his body warm and solid against yours. His lips found your neck again, his hands roaming over newly exposed skin, and suddenly, you weren’t the one in control anymore.

And you definitely didn’t mind.

Bradley’s hands moved with deliberate slowness, fingers grazing over your hips before settling at the waistband of your jeans. His eyes flicked up to yours, silently asking for permission. When you nodded, he made quick work of the button and zipper, his fingers brushing over your skin as he tugged them down your legs, leaving you in just your underwear.

He leaned back slightly, his gaze raking over you, dark and unreadable for a moment. Then, a slow smirk tugged at his lips. His voice was rougher now, lower, as he shook his head. “You’re even prettier than I imagined.”

Your breath hitched, warmth spreading through your chest at his words, at the way he was looking at you like he wanted to devour you.

Then, before you could think of a response, he dipped his head, pressing his lips to the base of your throat. His mouth was warm, his kisses slow and reverent as he made his way down, lingering at the delicate skin along your collarbone, then lower, teasing over your ribs before his hands found your thighs.

He shifted, lowering himself onto the floor in front of the couch, his large, rough palms pressing against your inner thighs as he spread them apart. The contrast between his calloused hands and the soft skin of your legs sent a shiver up your spine.

Bradley’s breath was warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as his mouth trailed lower until it hovered just above the place you ached for him most. His grip on your thighs tightened, thumbs stroking slow, lazy circles into your skin as if savoring the anticipation.

“Still with me?” he murmured, his voice husky, teasing.

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers sinking into his thick curls, tugging just enough to earn a soft groan from him. “Bradley—”

His lips curved against your hipbone. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

A slow, unrelenting press of his mouth, a sound of satisfaction rumbling low in his throat as he pulled you closer, as your world narrowed to nothing but the feeling of him, the steady, torturous rhythm of his hands and lips unraveling you piece by piece.

The last coherent thought you had before everything melted into sensation was that you’d never look at him the same way again.

[sailorsoons]

Still Watching? (l. c)

Pairing: Lee Chan x f. Reader 

Summary: Blood and Popcorn with your newly minted boyfriend is your favorite. Except now you watch a lot less Buffy and a lot more of Chan. 

Word Count: 2,153

Genre: Established Relationship, PWP

Type: Smut

Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Warnings: Shameless pwp, explicit language, explicit sexual content including nipple play, vaginal fingering, a little bit of teasing/edging, cheesy banter. 

A/N: Happy Valentine's day pt II the remix! As always, thank you to @daechwitatamic for beta reading this :)

A/N 2: This is the same couple from Blood & Popcorn but you do not need to read the first story to read this one :) This was originally posted on my old blog.

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“Honestly, it is so obvious this show was written by a man,” You mutter, watching as Buffy yells at Xander. “He wants to be a hero for her soooo bad.”

“Xander is the worst,” Chan sighs. You rise and fall with his chest, your back pressed against his front where you lay against him. His knees cage you in on either side of your hips, your ass planted firmly between his legs with his arms around your middle, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. “He really thinks he should win the girl just because he’s a nice guy.” 

“Truly, he has like… very few other qualities than being a nice guy.” 

He hums. “At least Spike knows he’s an asshole. It’s guys like Xander who think just because they’re not blatantly awful that it makes them dateable.” 

“A lot of guys think that.” 

“Mhmm. I’m a rare breed.” 

You crane your neck to look up at him. You can hear and feel the steady thud of his heart, smell the hint of aftershave and menthol from his shower earlier, feel the heat of his skin. It makes you a little dizzy and you unfocus on the screen, studying the gentle curve of Chan’s mouth. 

“You’re surely something,” you mutter in response, grinning a little as you look away toward the screen. His fingers slip under your shirt, skimming your waist. You suppress a shiver, suddenly hyper aware of the way his fingers scrape against you. 

“I’m a nice guy and I know that it takes more than being a decent human being to get the girl.”

“Oh yeah? Remember the time it took four years to confess your feelings to me? What do you know, Lee Chan?”

“Hmm. Data is insufficient. Need more evidence regarding that specific example.” 

For a moment, you’re unable to respond, lids fluttering as Chan continues to caress your lower stomach and hips. His touch is completely innocent, no suggestion that he intends anything. That he means anything. It’s a motion that is instinctual for him, so naturally to have his hands on you that it almost makes it worse. 

Just knowing how easy it is for him to love you never fails to surprise you. You don’t know how you never saw it before. 

Now it seems silly to have ever thought that Chan was anything less than in love with you. It’s in the way he naturally gravitates toward you in every room. It’s in the way he can be totally focused on something else, but his hand reaches out for you, not even really noticing that he’s seeking you out. It’s  in the way that you mold so perfectly into his chest, made to be there. 

“You don’t know your own data?” you shoot back eventually, snuggling a little closer to him. If you could crawl into his hoodie, you would. For now, this is fine. “Seems like you don’t know much.” 

“Hmm?” His fingers stop moving. You feel the question hum against you. “I don’t know much?” 

“Nope.”

Your heart starts to pick up. Chan’s fingers start stroking your skin again but you feel the difference. His blunt nails scrape across your skin, raising goosebumps on your arms. He skims his hands higher and back down, touch light over your ribs. Every time his fingers dance up your side, his reach goes a little higher. 

A tightness forms in your throat. You try to keep your breathing even and will yourself not to squeeze your thighs. You are pressed too close to him for him not to tell if you squirm. Chewing your lip, you stare at the screen totally unseeing. 

“Hm.” Chan’s deep hum hints at trouble. You feel your hands get clammy. “I think I know some things. Like for example…” He trails off for a moment, hand brushing under your left breast. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, fighting a twitch. “I know that your favorite color on me is green.” 

“Green is a good color on anyone.”

“I know that you like the feeling…” His hand skates low this time, fingers dancing dangerously against the waistband of your shorts. “Of high thread count sheets.”

You snort. “Everyone likes good sheets, Chan.” 

“Good sheets are important,” he agrees. You feel him trace his pointer finger back up with deadly accuracy, following the swell of your breast upward, skating so close to your nipple that you stop breathing. “Everything alright? You stopped breathing.”

“What?” you squeak. “Oh, yep. I am great.” 

“I don’t know, baby. Are you feeling well? You seem… warm.”

Chan presses his palm flat to your chest, fingers splayed wide. His palm is warm and rough, his touch igniting a fire inside of you. The heat spreads outward, licking at every one of your nerves and setting them ablaze. 

In an effort to ignore him, you lick your lips and say, “Never felt better. I like her boots.” 

His chuckle is low. Throaty. You’re barely holding it together, feeling the ache between your thighs at the firmness of his touch. “See, I don’t know a lot about women’s fashion. But I do know those are not boots. Just like I know you’re not paying attention to the show, Bambi.”

You blink and stare at the TV. Chan’s right. Buffy is in sneakers, though in your unfocused haze they had been blurry and looked like boots from a distance. You swallow down the dryness in your throat, Chan’s hand still pressed flat and warm against your chest. 

“I know that your heart is pounding,” Chan murmurs, voice barely audible as he presses his mouth by your ear. Your eyes flutter shut. “I know that you’re trying really hard not to squeeze those thighs.” 

“You can’t possibly know that.” 

To prove his statement true, Chan’s thumb brushes upward, skating gently over a nipple. On command, your thighs squeeze and you feel the shake of his laughter behind you. 

“I know everything about you, Bambi.” His voice brushes against you like his soft touch. You melt, feeling your weight sink into him further. “I know that you don’t share your food with anyone but me. I know that your favorite episode of Buffy is Hush. I know that you think Buffy should end up with Spike. I know that you are probably soaked right now because being caressed drives you crazy.” 

“Insufficient data,” you breathe. “I recommend research.” 

“You know what? Agreed.” 

Chan moves fast. His hand moves from your chest to between your legs, hands slipping under the waistband of your shorts and panties before you can blink. Your lips part, a breathy noise escaping you as Chan drags a slow finger up your sticky folds. 

“What do you know,” he observes. His fingers idly trail up and down your slit, making you twitch against him. “I was right. Do I win anything?” 

“I thought you said nice guys shouldn’t just win the girl.” 

Chan presses his fingers firmly to your clit, a ripple of pleasure ebbing through you. Your hips lift off the couch slightly but he pushes you back down into his lap, other hand looping around your waist to lock you to him. “Maybe I’m not that nice.”

Slowly, he starts to retract his hand. You whimper, both of your hands shooting to grab the wrist belonging to the hand between your legs. He pauses, fingers pressed between your folds. “You are nice!” 

“Oh?”

“Very nice. You’re my very nice, very sweet boyfriend.” 

“I see.” 

He doesn’t move his hand at all. The space is filled with the low hum of Buffy fighting vampires, the blue flash of the screen falling against your silhouettes, body to body as he holds you tight. You try to get control of your racing heart, but that’s never been easy around Chan.

He knows it.  

“Maybe you know some things,” you admit slowly. “Maybe I was wrong.”

Chan’s resounding chuckle is dangerous, but he slides his hand back down. You loosen your grip on his wrist but keep your hands resting on his forearm, feeling the muscle flex under your fingertips as his fingers resume their debauched exploration. 

“See, that’s another thing I know. I know you hate being wrong, so if you’re wrong… it was because you were doing so intentionally.”

His words fall on unlistening ears. You’re too worked up by the simple way he plays you, too focused on the way his fingers gently circle your clit, the perfect stimulation. Too distracted by the way he dips his head down to sweep his mouth across your throat in open-mouthed kisses. 

“I know you’re… not listening.” He stops and you let out a strangled sound, nails digging into his arms. He presses a wet kiss to your pulse point. “Didn’t think so.”

“Chan.” 

“Hmm?”

“Please don’t tease me.”

“Why not? You were teasing me.” 

You pout. He can’t see it, but you know he knows it’s there. “I like to tease you. I have to keep you humble.” 

A long moan slips from your lips and you tilt your head back to Chan’s shoulder when he presses a finger into your aching cunt. You feel yourself twitch around him, hips swiveling for more friction. 

“Humble? How are you ever going to keep me humble when this pussy gets this wet after I’ve barely touched you?”

Well that’s true. You don’t care, though, turning boneless as Chan strokes you with his fingers properly. It feels so good. Only he knows how to touch you like this, familiar with every button to press and every contour to mold to. 

Heat flushes your neck. Chan presses his lips against your cheek, working your cunt with his fingers as he holds you steadfast. It feels like you might suffocate, totally trapped against him. His skin and breath are hot against you, the air thick. He breathes out a groan when your hips buck upward, Chan dropping all pretext of teasing you.

“Like that,” he breathes, heavy. “Do it exactly how you like it.”

Another finger drives you wild. You fumble over his name, squeezing your eyes shut and meeting the quick strokes of his hand. His palm presses firmly against your clit, letting you grind yourself against him for the extra stimulation. 

You burn up. Briefly you wonder if this flash of euphoric heat is what Icarus felt before the fall. The thought is chased away from the intense pressure in your stomach as Chan presses up against that spot inside you, making stars burst behind your eyes.

“Wait - I’m gonna come in my shorts,” you whine, realizing you still have them on. “Chaaaan.”

“So come in them,” he says simply. “Research has revealed that you have a washer and dryer down the hall, baby. Go ahead.” 

“Fuuuuck.” 

“Come for me. I know you want to.” 

You do want to. A moment of static builds up, your thighs squeezing around his hand so hard he can’t move and then you’re coming around his fingers, your nails biting into the skin of his wrist. His grip across your waist is like iron, holding you to him as you come undone. 

Chan’s mouth presses gentle kisses on your jaw, muttering soft I love yous and fuck yeahs against your burning skin. The burning doesn’t stop, your body flushed with heat as you sink away from your orgasm, turning to molten metal and melting into his hold. 

He leaves you like that for a few minutes, thighs shaking around the hand still shoved between your legs, fingers pressed deep inside of you. It feels intimate, and you crane your neck, driven by the desire to kiss him. Chan’s lips are already there because he knew you would want his lips against yours. 

Just like he knows everything about you. 

Chan’s lips are soft and gentle. His tongue brushes against yours in a slow dance and you lean up into him more, desperate for him. He laughs into the kiss, letting you have your way until you’re panting, sweaty and out of breath again. 

You sag, head on his shoulder as you pant. “Your fingers are still in me.”

“Mhm.” He presses them in harshly, making you jolt. It earns a deep laugh from him. “Maybe we should call this Popcorn & Pussy instead. We’ve barely gotten through a full night of episodes since we started dating.”

“Are you aware you make the worst jokes?” You open your eyes and glance at the screen, only to find that the show has paused between episodes, asking if you’re still watching and if you want to continue. “Are you still watching? No, Buffy. I’m not.”

“No problem.” Chan pulls his hand from between your legs, the wet squelch making you whimper. “I have something else you can watch.” 

“Oh?” 

Chan kisses your temple sweetly before getting up, letting you fall back against the couch while he kneels on the couch and pulls your legs toward his face. You inhale deeply, watching as he looks up through long lashes, a smirk on his face. “Still watching, Bambi?” 

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@ddaddunugu @ourkivee @tie-nn @cookiearmy21-blog @thesunsfullmoon @stray-bi-kids @ldysmfrst @thepoopdokyeomtouched@eoieopda @onlywon4u @hopeless-foolery @iamawkwardandshy@gyuguys @codeinebelle @ateez-atiny380 @bultaereume @yoongznme @kaitieskidmore97 @coffee-addict-kitten @gyubakeries@archivistworld @asyre @kaepjjangiya @fancypeacepersona@beckyloveshannie @imujings @do-you-remember-summer-127 @jbluen@mingumi @kimsaerom @imlonelydontsendhelp @ddaddunugu @ourkivee @tie-nn @cookiearmy21-blog @thesunsfullmoon @stray-bi-kids @ldysmfrst @thepoopdokyeomtouched@eoieopda @onlywon4u @hopeless-foolery @iamawkwardandshy@gyuguys @codeinebelle @ateez-atiny380 @bultaereume @yoongznme @kaitieskidmore97 @coffee-addict-kitten @gyubakeries @archivistworld @asyre @kaepjjangiya @fancypeacepersona @beckyloveshannie @imujings @do-you-remember-summer-127 @jbluen @mingumi @kimsaerom @imlonelydontsendhelp

[hotchnerwrites]

Valentine's with JJK Men

Pairing: JJK men x reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: SFW, Valentine's date, fluff, no use of (y/n)

A/N: Happy Valentine's! Total last-minute speedrun, working on ending my writing block ugh. Please ignore my grammar and any typos, I didn't have time to check asdfghjk,,, Enjoy!

My requests are open. Send me stuff! :)

Satoru Gojo

You had been worried, in all honesty. But you had decided to give Satoru the benefit of doubt. He’d come up with something. But then… 14th February rolled around and still nothing. So you sent out some feelers, in the form of subtle questions. 

Should I get my nails done? What do you think of this restaurant? 

You really didn’t need to. He had sent you a last minute text the day before like, “Hey, pick you up at 7 tomorrow. Wear the blue dress, it’s hot.” Because of course, he was too confident you’d say yes. Which you did. 

But the irritation melts away when you open the door and he’s standing there, all soft-smiles and heart-shaped sunglasses. He smothers you with compliments, and you wonder if your heart will flutter out your chest.

And Gojo never does things halfway. He’s the personification of the saying ‘Go big, or go home’, and Valentine’s Day is no exception. He had brought with him a small mountain of gifts— designer accessories, ridiculously overpriced chocolates (he’d probably end up eating the lot), and a bouquet so big he was nearly invisible behind it. 

Satoru had also taken the liberty to book an extravagant date at the most exclusive restaurant in town, complete with a candlelit dinner and a skyline view. Throughout the night he’s flirty and playful, feeding you bits of cake just to watch you roll your eyes at his antics, and pressing kisses along your knuckles like you’re some fairy princess. 

The night ends with him dramatically twirling you under the stars (he admitted to stealing this idea off Pinterest), probably to music only he can hear. And when you two get home, he’s snuggling up to you like a clingy cat, murmuring, "You know, I’d do this for you every day if you let me."

Suguru Geto

Suguru isn’t one for flashy displays; instead, he makes everything deeply personal. He asks you to be his Valentine a week in advance, phrasing it so softly that it feels like a promise rather than a question. 

On the day itself, he surprises you with a picnic by the river. You wonder how he managed to find such a perfect spot with a gorgeous view that was also free of other couples, but that’s just Geto. He had a talent in finding placed untouched by the chaos of the world.

The blanket is laid out perfectly, and the food? Home-made, down to the last detail—because he rarely cooks, but for you, he spent the whole morning perfecting your favorite dishes. He had even tried his hand at baking, and you couldn’t help but coo at the wonky cookies.

There’s a gentle sort of intimacy in the way he pours your tea, in the way he tucks stray hairs behind your ear, in the way his fingers brush against yours as he hands you a chocolate-dipped strawberry. Suguru even wore his hair loose, flowing around his face, a look you love. He usually keeps it tied back, but he knows you prefer it this way. It’s a small detail, but it makes him feel even more approachable, even more him.

He doesn’t rush anything—he just watches, taking in the way the sunset makes you glow. 

When the time feels right, he pulls out a small box, inside of which sits a necklace with a beautiful locket made of dried flowers. It’s both meaningful and expensive—something he chose carefully, something that reminds him of you.

A quiet smile tugs at his lips when he fastens it around your neck, fingers lingering for just a second longer than necessary. 

“Looks perfect on you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

Later, when the sun is low in the sky and the world feels like it’s holding its breath, Suguru doesn’t rush you to move or leave. Instead, he sits next to you, his presence grounding and peaceful, just enjoying your company in the stillness of the evening. His hand finds yours in the quiet, and you can feel the solid affection between you both without needing to say anything. His love is gentle but all-encompassing, not a grand declaration but a steady flame that burns deeper than any rose or candlelit dinner could ever show. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmurs quietly, as if this moment—this perfect, simple moment—is enough.

Kento Nanami

Nanami is a man who plans ahead. No last-minute reservations, no rushed gifts—everything is thoughtfully chosen weeks in advance because to him, love is not about grand gestures or fleeting moments; it’s about consistency, intention, and care. 

He formally asked you to be his Valentine at least a month ago, his voice steady but gentle when he said, “I’d like to take you somewhere nice. If you’re free, of course.” But there was a quiet hopefulness in his eyes, a softness in the way his fingers brushed against yours when he said it.

By the time Valentine’s Day arrives, he has already spoiled you in small ways leading up to it—fresh bouquets every week, tiny, thoughtful gifts left on your nightstand (a book he caught you eyeing, your favourite coffee blend, a handwritten note that simply said “Thinking of you.”). He never overdoes it, never makes a spectacle, but his love is constant, woven into every choice he makes.

The day itself starts with a spa appointment already booked for you, a quiet way of making sure you feel pampered. In the evening, he picks you up at your door, looking effortlessly elegant in his suit. Before you can say anything, he presents you with a stunning bouquet, bigger than any of the ones before, wrapped in understated, tasteful paper—because he notices the details you like, even when you think he doesn’t. 

He murmurs a simple, “You look beautiful,” before leading you to a sleek, intimate restaurant where he’s secured the perfect table—somewhere quiet, private, away from the noise of the world.

Dinner is perfectly paced—deliberate, unhurried. He watches you with those warm, focused eyes, listening intently to everything you say.

At some point, he slides a small box across the table—not a ring, not yet, but something deeply meaningful, something he saw and thought of you immediately. When you open it, his lips quirk up ever so slightly, pleased by the way your fingers linger over the delicate earrings inside. 

"I wanted you to have something special today," he says simply, but there’s an unspoken depth in those words—a quiet promise that this isn’t just Valentine’s, isn’t just a single day of romance. 

By the time the night ends, he drives you home with one hand on the wheel and the other resting lightly on your thigh, his touch warm and grounding.

“I hope today was enough.” And it’s almost laughable that he even thinks that, because everything he does—every carefully chosen detail, every quiet moment—is a testament to how deeply, truly, and wholly he loves you.

Toji Fushiguro

Toji is… not the Valentine’s type.

 He groans when he realizes the date, mutters something about it being a commercial scam, but still finds himself dragging his ass to the store last minute to grab some things you like.

He won’t admit it, but he actually tried— he arranged the flowers in an acceptable bouquet (you ignore the misshapen stems), downloaded your favourite movie on the TV, somehow made popcorn without burning anything, and picked up dinner from your favourite spot.

But for all his grumbling, he sat through the entire thing, sneaking glances at you instead of the screen. He spent the rest of his efforts pulling you as close to him as possible, pressing the occasional kiss against your neck. His hand finds your thigh, fingers tracing lazy patterns. 

“You owe me for this,” he mutters in your ear, but you know he doesn’t mean anything by it.

By the end of the night, he’s dozing off with his head in your lap, your fingers dragging through his hair slowly. And then so quietly that you almost miss it— “I guess it wasn’t that bad.”

Toji isn’t the best with romance, but he still showed up. He tried his best. And that means more to you than you’ll ever say.

Ryomen Sukuna

Sukuna does not care about Valentine’s Day. 

At all.

When you first bring it up, he barely looks up from his throne, giving you an unimpressed look before growling, "What the hell is a Valentine?" 

You have to practically beg him to celebrate, and even then, he makes zero effort—no chocolates, no flowers, nothing remotely romantic. If you expect candlelit dinners or heartfelt confessions, you’re delusional. The best you’ll get is an unimpressed stare and maybe, just maybe, a begrudging “I guess you look good today.”

And yet… later that night, when he sees you sulking about it, he lets out a dramatic sigh before dragging you into his lap, his fingers tilting your chin up.

"Tch. You really care about all that dumb human shit?" he mutters, but his voice is a little softer. 

Then, without warning, he kisses you, slow and deep, with a kind of intensity that makes your knees weak. When he pulls away, he smirks, satisfied by the dazed look in your eyes. 

"There. Happy now?" And as much as you hate to admit it, you kind of are.

Choso Kamo

Choso could probably make a career out of overthinking. 

He had no idea what to get you. He spent weeks figuring out what to do. Not one social media platform was helpful, and was back to square one. 

What if you don’t like his gift? What if he forgets something? What if it’s too tacky?

He spends days pacing and stressing, and at the cost of his pride, he calls Yuuji, who tells him to do whatever feels right. Great.

Choso tried, he really did. 

He shows up at your door with an armful of gifts, everything from handwritten love letters to a carefully wrapped box filled with all your favourite chocolates. His eyes light up when you open the door, and without hesitation, he pulls you into the warmest, longest hug imaginable.

He keeps it simple but heartfelt—a pasta dinner, a slow movie night, his hand resting over yours the entire time. 

He stares at you like you hung the stars in the sky, eyes filled with so much adoration it makes you a little dizzy. At some point, he blurts out, "I don’t really know how this works, but… I just wanted to make today special for you." And you swear, if you weren’t already in love with him, that would’ve done it.

Megumi Fushiguro

Megumi is low-key but incredibly sweet. 

He never makes a big deal out of celebrations, it’s not really his style. But he knows how much it means to you that he shows up, so he makes sure you know he cares.

You wake up to a warm cup of tea, brewed just right, and breakfast-in-bed. You’re delighted to see your eggs shaped like a heart, and Megumi stands there in the corner, grinning with pride. 

When the two of you go out for lunch at the latest ‘aesthetic’ cafe you found on the net, he makes sure to surprise you with a bouquet of your favourite flowers wrapped in brown paper.

And at night, he decides to take you to a karaoke bar. In some ways, you and Megumi are polar opposites. But when it comes to karaoke, there was a shared love. He never sang in front of his friends (Nobara would never let him live it down), but he dedicates just about every song to you tonight. You’re too busy laughing to sing.

The night is cozy—just the two of you, tangled up under warm blankets, the scent of laundry soap filling the space. Megumi doesn’t say much, but his actions speak volumes—the way he pulls you closer, the way his fingers gently trace patterns on your skin. 

At some point, he murmurs, "You make every day feel like Valentine’s Day." And just like that, your heart is gone.

Yuji Itadori

For Yuuji, Valentine’s is a mix of romance and utter chaos. 

He got you flowers and chocolates, but to your utter horror, he bought you one of those musical Hallmark cards. The tinny audio drives you up the wall (Yuuji swears it’s the best thing ever invented). You’re tempted to light both him and the card on fire.

But you had no idea what was in store. You got a little worried when he set up the mini-projector. You really hoped it wasn’t another video of him singing. Bless his heart, but his singing voice should never see daylight.

You buzz in anticipation and when the video starts playing, you are absolutely delighted, Yuuji had commissioned one of those ridiculous TikTok videos where a bunch of random guys dance and hold up a sign with your face on it and wish you Happy Valentine’s. 

He’s grinning the whole time, clearly proud of himself. You laugh so hard you almost forget the effort he put into everything. 

The night is warm and silly. He refuses to let you oversee his cooking, resulting in mildly burnt vegetables, but the thousand tiny moments where he looks at you like you’re his entire world make it taste all the better.

At some point, he blurts out, “I just love you so much.”

And it’s so earnest, so raw, that you can’t help but tackle him to the couch with a flurry of kisses all over his face.

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any likes/comments/reblogs/follows. Constructive criticism is welcome. Do not plagiarise my content and/or post it anywhere without crediting me.

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

[twice-inamillion]

Twice Series 

Life-Changing News

Chapter 246

1,930 Words

(The world as you know it takes a turn for the worse. A sudden outbreak, many get sick and many more die. It’s moments like these where you need to stay together.) 

You turn your phone back on after an eleven-hour flight back to Korea. Numerous emails and text notifications bombard your phone. “Must be serious.” So, on the car ride back home, you try to go through them, realizing the urgency. 

One of those emails is from your broker, urging you to observe the international and domestic stock markets. In those emails, you received notifications of a possible lockdown in Wuhan due to a containment issue. 

The more you read, the more you realize the potential problem it might have as people travel abroad due to the Chinese New Year. You go on multiple social platforms, searching for any information on the seriousness of the situation.

You turn and look at Nayeon, sleeping in the car after a long flight. Your phone goes off, and you see a message from your wife, who sent you a message welcoming you back and a picture of your children having breakfast. “The babies missed you.”

You arrive at the company building, where you turn in your report before heading back home. Nayeon continues to sleep on the way back, and you decide to listen to a report on the status of a potential epidemic within the Chinese region and the possibility of quarantining the city. 

The report continues to relay that government vehicles have begun to arrive at the city, and transportation entering and exiting has been suspended. This has caused people to try to exit the city as they predict the shutdown of the city.

You arrive at the front gate when the two large metal doors open. You drive through the motor court and see Jisoo and Ari’s heads against the large window, waving as they see you.

You see the large door open, and the two come running out shouting, “Appa! Daddy!” You crouch down and pick them both up, one in each arm. “Jisoo, Ari, I missed both of you. Did you take care of everyone while Daddy was out?” They both nod and say, “Mommies and babies safe.” 

All of you walk back to the house's entrance, where you see from afar the rest of the members in the living room. You place Jisoo and Ari on the ground, “I’m back.” 

Hina scoots down from the couch and walks towards you, asking for your hand, “Daddy, Hina show Da-Da, walk.” Hina leads you to where Daeun is playing and squats, “Da-Da, come, come…” waving her hand. 

Daeun smiles at Hina and puts her hands on the ground. She lifts her bottom, lifting herself into an upright position, and slowly wobbles. Slowly, she takes a step and another. Hina looks at Daeun, saying, “Come, Da-Da.” Daeun smiles and waddles faster to Hina, hugging her. 

‘Oh my god, Daeun. You can walk.” You pick her up and give her a big kiss. Dahyun, sitting on the couch, says, “She has been standing a lot recently. These past few days, Hina has been encouraging her a lot. Out of nowhere, she just started walking.”

Daeun smiles, and you look back at Hina, “Is that true? Have you been helping your baby sister?” 

Hina shyly nods, “Hina help Da-Da.” 

You squat and pick her help in your other arm and kiss her on the forehead, “You’re such a nice sister.”

You continue spending time with the family and enjoying seeing Daeun walk. It’s always nice catching up, even if you’ve only been out for a few days. 

The day continues, and every so often, you look at your phone for any updates. The situation in Wuhan is worsening as reports of a city-wide lockdown are imminent. You go to your office and watch a video of a Korean-Australian visiting the city for the holidays. After hearing about the potential lockdown, he decided to leave the city, and all public transportation has been halted. Flights have been canceled, and bus stations and trains have been blocked by military personnel.

People have begun to panic as the military started taking charge of the city. News networks estimate that about eleven million people are stuck with no way out. 

Seeing this makes you realize the possibility of it reaching Korea as many visit China during the Chinese New Year. “It’s not a matter of if, but when it comes to Korea.” 

You have a restless night; you’re worried about the situation and continue to wake up in the middle of the night. Multiple notifications go off from your phone. You see a report of SARS_CoV2 being detected in the United States and the first South Korean national being infected after working in Wuhan. 

The day goes by without interruption; there’s not much news about the first infected person. Most people assume that everything is under control with the Chinese government locking down Wuhan. 

You talk to a few friends from abroad and discuss the situation. One mentions that the virus was manufactured and meant to be used as a weapon. Another mentions that the government will try to downplay the situation and say everything is under control, but that’s only to prevent panic. 

Each has their own theories on how the virus came to be and how it began to spread. You hope it’s something small and can easily be contained, but understand that it might become serious at any point. 

Out of nowhere, someone mentions, “Hey, it might not be a bad idea to start stocking up on things; you never know.”

The rest of you laugh and make slight jokes about him being a survivalist or doomsday prepper. You, on the other hand, don’t think it’s a bad idea. “Hey guys, he might be right. People are going to start panicking if it does reach us. Not sure about you guys, but I’m the closest one to China, so I might buy some necessities, it won’t hurt.”

Your American friend says, ”Okay, okay, he has a point.” You all continue to talk for a bit more. One by one, your friends exit the chat, leaving only your American friend. “Hey, before you hang up, let me tell you something.”

”What is it?”

”Remember what our business professor said about following the money?”

”Yeah, I remember.”

”I don’t think this virus thing will be too bad, but if it does, just look at the stock market. You’ll know when shit hits the bricks if the markets start acting up. I suggest you look at the pharmaceutical companies.”

”Haha. That’s exactly what my broker said.”

”Hey, the money never lies.”

———

Weeks pass by, and not much occurs in terms of the virus. Most people continue to live their lives. There are a few cases here and there, but nothing major. The lockdown in Wuhan continues as the government tries to keep the virus from spreading. 

People have begun to relax after no significant outbreaks and Korean citizens who came from China are closely monitored. Everything seemed well, and life continued normally. You and Dahyun celebrated Da-eun’s first birthday with a big party, as well as Jihyo’s 23rd birthday.

The members even had their concerts in Japan as scheduled, which was surprising. At one point, you laughed at yourself, thinking of when you purchased enough food and supplies to fill an entire room and prepare for the end of the world. 

——

That all changed on February 23rd, 2020, when the virus mutated. Italy became the first country to be affected, and martial law was immediately implemented. Thousands of people were caught ill and many of them were hospitalized, never to be seen again. Italy was a popular destination spot for the elderly to retire and spend their golden years peacefully. Instead, the whole country closed, separating itself from its neighbors.

A few days earlier, the virus was given the official name COVID-19, also known as SARS-CoV-2, by the World Health Organization. After studying its strain, they thought the virus would be manageable and even developed a way to fight it. Instead, the virus mutated, adapting to the medicines given. 

The name COVID-19 began spreading through multiple news outlets, reporting on third-world countries and the sudden mutation of the virus. Many of those countries had a sizeable elderly population or an unreliable health care system. 

Back home, the streets of Daegu were empty as a result of a large gathering of churchgoers. Seventy new cases and the first death in Korea. Many people became scared, assuming that the virus would not spread due to the low numbers during these past few weeks. 

In the following days, the number of cases skyrocketed, with 1,261 positive cases out of the 9,336 people tested from the mass gathering: many more dead, mainly those with low immune systems and old age. 

Many entertainment agencies began to announce cancellations for their idols. JYP postponed any activities until further notice and ensured that the safety of their idols was their priority. 

The members gather in the living room, watching the news as they see the chaos in Italy and Korea. The new anchors recommend, “Due to the sudden spike of infections, we suggest that the elderly, people who are immunocompromised, and those who are pregnant remain indoors for your safety. Only essential personnel…” You grab the remote and turn off the television.

”Girls, I have some news. JYP postponed all activities and suggested that we stay here until further notice. We have enough food and supplies, so we should be okay.”

”What about our parents?” You turn around and see the worried faces of the members. 

”Let’s try to relax and get in touch with them. Tell them that we’re all okay and to remain indoors.”

The members agree and call their parents. Most of them respond by reassuring them that they’ll stay indoors. 

“Oppa, I can’t get a hold of my parents.”  You see Tzuyu’s worried expression. 

You hug Tzuyu and reassure her that everything is going to be okay. “They are going to be fine. I’m sure they are together and healthy. Let’s call them again in a few hours.”

”Oppa, I’m scared.” 

Sana begins to cry. You hug her as well, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure that you all are safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

”But what if it gets worse? What if many more people start to die? I still haven’t told my parents that they are going to be grandparents yet.”

“What… What did you say?”

Sana looks down and places her hand on her stomach, “I just found out a few days ago I’m pregnant.” 

“What, when, how?”

”I wanted to tell you, but with this situation going on, I couldn’t find the right time.” 

You hug Sana, “Oh my god, are you sure?”

Sana nods, “Yeah, I took my tests, and they all came positive.”

”That’s amazing; oh my god, I’m going be a dad again, haha.” You pick Sana up from her feet and spin her around. Sana giggles, happy from your reaction. 

You squat down, look at the kids, and say, “You’re all going to be big sisters. One more to the family.” 

“Umm… Oppa… make that two more.” 

You look up and see Momo holding her stomach. “It’s not just Sana; I’m pregnant too.” 

“Wait… what?” You lose your balance as you try to get up. You see shining lights as you feel slightly lightheaded. “Two? Two more?”

[nmhdreamscape]

you've been caught! ✧ l.dh (valentine's gift series)

pairing | haechan x fem!reader

content | fake dating!au, accidental confessions?, fluff

word count | 828

request | haechan + 12

notes | tysm for the request @kiszjuli <3 go read her valentine's series, it's amazing!!

your arrangement with haechan was simple. he was to accompany you as your boyfriend to family gatherings to stop the endless attempts from your mother to set you up with waves of her friends sons. in return, haechan got access to mountains of free food and all the love and support your family could provide. it was a win-win situation.

that’s how you found yourselves in the position you were in, sat outside your aunt’s place, discussing when you were going to see all your other friends next. the main part of the dinner had been particularly stuffy, some family drama bubbling over. you needed a breather. that’s when haechan escorted you outside to get away from it all. he sure as hell had the fake boyfriend thing down pat. maybe because he was such a good friend to begin with?

you had trailed off on a tangent, some crazy story about an encounter you and one of your friends had had. haechan wasn’t really listening though, instead opting to look at you in a way he had found himself doing more frequent as of recent. try as he might, he just couldn’t dismiss his feelings that had been growing over the past couple of months. and now that he was acknowledging them, he didn’t really know how to hide them all that well. and that’s exactly how he landed himself in this predicament. 

“why are you looking at me like that?” you teased with a smile on your face. you had noticed him looking at you weird a couple of times now. you had to finally call it out, jokingly of course. haechan’s eyes widened at being caught, beginning to nervously tap his fingers across his thigh.

“like what?” he questioned you back, eyes not really coming up to meet yours fully.

“like you love me.” you gasped dramatically, ending your sentence with a loud laugh, hands coming up to cover your mouth. however, you quickly noticed that haechan wasn’t laughing along with you. instead, his eyes were trained to the floor, ears bright red. you immediately stopped laughing, eyes going comically wide at the realisation you had inadvertently figured out the reason behind his gaze.

“holy shit! you’re in love with me.” you gawked in disbelief, mind still processing everything that was going on. “you promised you wouldn’t fall in love with me.” you added, voice softening as you looked at him in concern.

“i lied.” he muttered, still not having the heart to look at you to properly gauge your reaction. he had been caught, and at the worst time too. he knew you didn’t return his feelings, why would you? you had made it clear from the beginning you weren’t looking for an actual relationship. the silence between the two of you wasn’t helping his doubts. it was a rejection, plain and simple, and he wasn’t going to stick around for anymore of it.

“well, i guess i better leave then.” haechan said plainly, eyes finally coming up to meet yours. his were glossy, as though he was about to cry. your expression became panicked, worried that you had upset him. you were just taking time to process everything, including the fact that he returned your feelings. you quickly moved in front of him to block his exit.

“aren’t you going to ask me?” you queried, arms crossed over your chest. 

“what?” he looked at you confused, not really in the mood for any more jokes.

“ask me why i look at you the way i do.” you asked quietly, moving closer towards him. haechan made no effort to step away, letting you invade his space. you peered up at him, searching his eyes. despite it all, he still looked at you the way he was looking at you before, full of love. 

“y/n…” he whispered and that was all it took. pulling haechan down by his collar, you pressed your lips together in a kiss. he stood stark still for a moment, in disbelief that you were kissing him. before he returned your movements, hands coming up to cup your cheeks as he kissed you back. he hadn’t even considered this to be a possibility, making a note to pinch himself when this was all over just to be sure it wasn’t a dream. so absorbed in your kiss, both of you failed to hear the door opening and one of your cousins sticking their head through the door.

“hey! lovebirds! come back inside, dessert is being served.” the two of you froze, realising you had been caught. after staring at each other for a moment, the pair of you burst into laughter, you opting to hide your reddening cheeks in haechan’s chest. haechan stepped away and offered his hand to you. you took it happily, interlacing your fingers as you walked back inside. you were looking forward to attending the rest of this dinner with a real boyfriend this time around.

valentine's gift masterlist

[xi4oyan]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Teacher Tigress (=මᆽම=)Part 1 Part 2

: ̗̀➛ MK

: ̗̀➛ He tries to act normal around you, but it's obvious he's nervous. You have this intense aura that makes him feel like any wrong move could result in a punch (which… isn’t entirely wrong).

: ̗̀➛ “Are you like… stronger than Macaque?” “Do you want to find out firsthand?” “No, ma’am.”

: ̗̀➛ At first, he tries to break the ice with jokes and banter… You don’t laugh. That hurts his pride a little.

: ̗̀➛ He realizes that the only way to earn your respect is through dedication to training. So, for the first time, he stops talking and actually focuses.

: ̗̀➛ When he finally manages to block one of your attacks, he gets so happy he yells, "I DID IT!" … And then you take him down in one swift move.

: ̗̀➛ After a while, he starts following you around like a puppy. He wants to hear your stories, learn your techniques, and understand how you became so incredible.

: ̗̀➛ One day, he casually asks, “Were you always this tough, or did something happen?” The look on your face makes him instantly regret the question.

: ̗̀➛ MK doesn’t know exactly what Wukong did, but he feels like it was something big. He tries to mediate, only to realize you don’t want mediation at all.

: ̗̀➛ He shivers a little when you call him by his full name in that warning tone.

: ̗̀➛ He starts seeing you as an older sister—one he respects a lot but is also slightly afraid of annoying.

: ̗̀➛ Mei

: ̗̀➛ Mei becomes completely obsessed with you the moment she meets you.

: ̗̀➛ “WAIT, WAIT, YOU’RE A REAL TIGRESS??”

: ̗̀➛ She has absolutely no fear of bombarding you with random questions. “Have you ever hunted anything? How does your bite compare to a shark’s?”

: ̗̀➛ After seeing you in action, she starts calling you “Sensei Tigress” and refuses to stop.

: ̗̀➛ She desperately wants to see a fight between you and Wukong. When she suggests it, both of you look away.

: ̗̀➛ “What? What?? What am I missing?!”

: ̗̀➛ You respect Mei’s energy, but sometimes she talks too much.

: ̗̀➛ When you finally praise one of her moves in training, she freaks out.

: ̗̀➛ You overhear Mei and MK whispering about your past once. Your ear twitches, and they freeze.

: ̗̀➛ She places mental bets on when you and Wukong will resolve this tension.

: ̗̀➛ She feels proud when you call her by her name without sighing first.

: ̗̀➛ Pigsy

Pigsy isn’t surprised when he meets you. He’s seen too much to be shocked anymore.

: ̗̀➛ “Ah. So, you’re a tigress. Big deal. Want some noodles?”

: ̗̀➛ He treats you with quiet kindness, no questions or judgment.

: ̗̀➛ You don’t usually accept gifts, but you accept his food. It’s the one offering you allow.

: ̗̀➛ He notices the tension between you and Wukong on the first day. But unlike the others, he doesn’t try to understand or ask.

: ̗̀➛ You respect that.

: ̗̀➛ “I don’t like people who talk too much.” “Then why are you surrounded by them?”

: ̗̀➛ He notices how your eyes look more tired when you think no one is watching.

: ̗̀➛ When he senses you’re too tense, he simply places a plate of food in front of you without saying anything.

: ̗̀➛ One day, he says, “If you ever want to talk about it, it doesn’t have to be now.” You never respond, but something in your posture relaxes slightly.

: ̗̀➛ He knows that, deep down, you’re just waiting for a reason to trust someone again.

: ̗̀➛ Sandy

: ̗̀➛ Sandy loves you from the moment he meets you.

: ̗̀➛ He doesn’t mind your silence. In fact, he enjoys it.

: ̗̀➛ You feel comfortable around him because he doesn’t fill the space with unnecessary words.

: ̗̀➛ His cat likes you, which makes you lower your guard a little faster than usual.

: ̗̀➛ He notices that you never truly relax. You’re always in a defensive stance, even when you seem at ease.

: ̗̀➛ He tries to teach you breathing techniques to ease your tension. You resist at first, but eventually, you try.

: ̗̀➛ “So… you and Wukong have a long history, huh?” You narrow your eyes, and he raises his hands. “No judgment.”

: ̗̀➛ He sees how Wukong watches you when he thinks no one is looking.

: ̗̀➛ He never pushes you to talk, but he makes it clear that if you need a safe space, he’s there.

: ̗̀➛ You appreciate that more than you can express.

: ̗̀➛ One day, he sets a cup of tea beside you and just sits there. No conversation, no expectations. Just silent company. You don’t admit it, but it makes you feel… better.

: ̗̀➛ Tang

: ̗̀➛ Tang has so many questions.

: ̗̀➛ “YOU WERE PART OF THE JOURNEY TO THE WEST???”

: ̗̀➛ He freaks out and starts listing all the stories about Wukong, trying to figure out where you might have been.

: ̗̀➛ You stay silent. This makes him even more curious.

: ̗̀➛ He quickly realizes that your issue with Wukong runs deep.

: ̗̀➛ He tries to bring up legends, but you don’t seem interested.

: ̗̀➛ He tries, tries, and tries again—until one day, you casually drop a small, insignificant piece of information. To him, it’s like winning the lottery.

: ̗̀➛ “A-ha! So, you really fought demons!”

: ̗̀➛ He respects your strength, but he wants to know more about your story.

: ̗̀➛ One day, he catches you looking at Wukong’s statue with a complicated expression. He pretends not to notice.

: ̗̀➛ You think he talks too much, but deep down, you get used to it.

: ̗̀➛ Macaque

: ̗̀➛ Macaque lives for the tension between you and Wukong.

: ̗̀➛ He can tell the moment he sees you that there’s a lot of unresolved history.

: ̗̀➛ “So… The Great Sage had a partner in the past?” “I was not his partner.”

: ̗̀➛ He teases Wukong about it every chance he gets.

: ̗̀➛ “You know, she has every right to hate you.” “SHUT UP, MACAQUE.”

: ̗̀➛ He tries to get details out of you, but you don’t take the bait.

: ̗̀➛ However, he knows Wukong hurt you somehow.

: ̗̀➛ “If I were you, I’d make him crawl a little more before forgiving him.”

: ̗̀➛ You roll your eyes but don’t respond.

: ̗̀➛ Deep down, he respects you. Maybe because, on some level, he understands your pain better than the others do.

: ̗̀➛ “When you want revenge… just call me.” You don’t answer. He smirks, because he knows you considered it.

: ̗̀➛ Sun Wukong

: ̗̀➛ WHAT CAN HE DO TO FIX THIS??? HE DOESN’T KNOW!!!

: ̗̀➛ You avoid eye contact. He avoids it too, but for the wrong reasons.

: ̗̀➛ Every short answer you give feels like a dagger to his chest.

: ̗̀➛ He tries to act casual, crack jokes, but it doesn’t work anymore.

: ̗̀➛ “Are you still mad about that?” The glare you give him is so cold that he nearly shrinks back.

: ̗̀➛ He wants to apologize, but he doesn’t know how.

: ̗̀➛ Worse yet: he doesn’t know if he deserves forgiveness.

: ̗̀➛ For the first time in centuries, Sun Wukong is scared. Not of you. But of losing you forever.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . to be continued

[lottielovelace]

princess — chapter two

(ghost x könig's-sister!reader)

summary: Finally you get a chance to visit Simon. You just hope he hasn't forgotten about you. (aka two people trying their best to hide how incredibly into each other they are)

originally posted on ao3 (chapter length: 1,318 words)

Rating: M

Relationships: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader, background platonic relationships

Ao3 Tags FOR THE FIC AS A WHOLE, bolded is for this specific chapter: Past Rape/Non-con / Rape Recovery / Male Victim of Sexual Assault / Canonical Rape/Non-con (Simon's) / First Time / Getting Together / Manchester as a setting / disclaimer: author has not been to manchester / Simon does bare-knuckle boxing as a hobby / Sparring as Flirting / wrestling as flirting / Identity Porn / Non-Explicit Sex / reader is konig's half sister / Unmasked Simon "Ghost" Riley (while on leave) / reader knows that simon is in the military but doesn't know he’s ghost / medium speed burn

this is a part of a series and a multichapter fic (Ch1, Ch2)

Author’s Note: Happy Valentine's! I did promise more Simon this time

The next day, you headed to Stuart's bright and early. You didn't want to spend any longer in your crappy hostel than you had to.

You got off the tram, walked a couple blocks, and flashed a friendly—if nervous—smile at the secretary. She returned it with an encouraging thumbs up and beckoned you to enter the training area.

Only one figure stood in the ring, his back to you. The workout garb revealed so much more than the heavy winter garments he had worn undercover in the prison.

You let the door slam behind you.

He whirled around: hair rustled, undereyes dark, sweat sheening over scarred skin. God, he was beautiful.

"Hi," your voice was breathless.

“I thought I saw you earlier,” if Simon was surprised, he didn't let his voice betray it.

“Where?” you asked, tilting your head inquisitively.

“Yesterday, on the street.”

You tried your best not to visibly wilt as you began your retreat.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Simon squinted in confusion, “What for?”

"I didn't realize you didn't want me to— and then I go barging in on your life like—"

"No, no," Simon interrupted, realizing what you were trying to stammer out. “I wasn’t avoiding you. I just—“ he tensed for a moment, conflicted as he found his words. "The only reason I didn't talk to you was I wasn’t quite sure whether you were real or not.”

Oh. Right. You knew Simon wasn’t normal, but this was a harsh reminder that he was a soldier, with all the messiness that came along with the job title. You felt so silly for forgetting. Soldiers came with body counts. Baggage. Ghosts. You knew firsthand from your brother and Horangi that it could make things, relationships, life… difficult. Worth it, but not easy.

“Does that happen often?” you kept your voice light and airy. He trusted you enough to confide this, you didn’t want him to regret the decision or fear that he'd scared you off.

“Not when I’m on the right meds. Glad to know you’re real, means I don’t need a new prescription.”

A devious smirk emerged on your face, “Only happy at that?”

“No… it’s just—“ After all your angsting over seeing him, it was nice to see someone else do the squirming for once. It was also kinda cute. There was a power in your words having this man, this killer, damn near flustered. “It’s good to see you. Really good.”

You cocked an eyebrow, “Likewise.” You approached him slowly, gently placing your hands on his forearm. "See, real as can be."

Ghost's expression remained unchanged, but his pale face flushed.

"Good. Did you come here just to see me or…"

"Or what?" you asked, curious as to his suggestion.

"Well, I am supposed to be supervising open gym. Did'ya want to spar?"

You pondered for a moment. "I wouldn't be against it."

"Any experience with hand to hand?"

You shrugged off your sweater, "I've taken a couple of self defense classes." You kept your answer purposefully vague. He didn't need to know that you'd received many a private lesson from a former ROK Special Mission Brigade member (one who wanted to ensure no harm came to his 여동생). "But not bare-knuckle boxing."

Simon chuckled lowly, "Yeah, 't's not the most practical style."

"Then why do you…"

"On the battlefield, you do what you have to to survive. Playing dirty isn't just allowed, it's required. I'm used to taking any advantage I can. It's… nice to not do that for once. To let my skills stand on their own." A wry smile. "Make sure they haven't atrophied too much." His smile dropped, "But let's not box."

"Why not? Think I can't handle it?"

"It's not… I just, I don't want to hit you." There was something in his tone that hinted that striking someone he—well, you didn't know if "loved" was the right term yet, but someone he cared about hit a little too close to home. "Let's…" he thought for a moment, "wrestle instead. Would that be alright?"

"Sure."

"Let's try starting with a simple lockup. Normally I would try to pair you with someone closer to your weight class but," he gestured at the empty room, "not really an option right now. Don't worry, I'll go easy on you."

He wasn't lying. His grip was gentle, with no force or malice behind it. Arms wrapped around each other, he offered little resistance as you twisted, catching him off guard and knocking him down.

Simon was pleasantly surprised.

"That's good," he said from the ground, still flat on his back. "Solid form."

"Beginner's luck," you responded bashfully, bending down to look at his face. The same eyes you saw at the prison stared back up at you.

Getting to his feet, Simon ordered "Another."

While a little more cautious, he still wasn't fully on alert. This was a mistake.

THWAP!

Once again, he hit the mat first.

This time, Simon stood up with a dangerous look in his eyes.

No orders this time as he wordlessly commanded you to lock up again.

His grip still wasn't entirely engaged. You assumed that he still hadn't learned his lesson. You were wrong.

He didn't try to overpower you, use his size or use his muscular advantage to force you to the ground.

He just moved, darting with a quickness unfathomable for a man of his size. You blinked, and it was your turn to hit the floor. Looking up at the ceiling, you could see Simon's shit-eating grin staring back at you. For such a quiet man, he really did have an expressive face. You wondered how that worked on the field. Maybe he mostly did stuff over the comms.

You got up carefully, a plan blooming in your mind.

"I want to go again."

Simon happily obliged you, locking up. He gave you an opening to attack. When you did nothing, he went for a repeat of the last round.

Only this time you knew better.

This time, as your body fell, you tucked and rolled: resulting in you on top, triumphant. Simon seemed a little impressed. You were about to brag when— BAM! He used your distracted state to flip you, now pinning you beneath him. You squirmed trying to get any leverage, to no avail. His weight was enough to trap you. His unmoving weight. Simon had frozen, going deathly still.

Why— oh. Oh.

Simon was the first one to break the silence.

"Do you know how to get out of this?"

"I have a guess."

"Guessing isn't good enough," he chided. "Not when somebody wants to kill you. Or—" he inhaled sharply. "Worse."

You didn't like that you couldn't see his face right now. Using Horangi's training, you strained against him as if trying to brute force your way out—only to juke him, suddenly striking the other way, and driving your elbow into the soft of his solar plexus. He fell off you with a low groan at a timbre that made you blush.

Finally you could see his face. Despite now grimacing from the pain, he also appeared to be… relaxed by it and its grounding familiarity.

"Good practice," he declared, still a little weak.

"You're a good teacher," you sat up beside him.

"I'm afraid I didn't teach you very much."

"A good partner then,. Simon's demeanor seemed to ever so slightly brighten at your words. You laughed, leaning back. "I need a shower."

He winced.

"The ones at the gym are broken."

"Shit!"

Simon raised an eyebrow as if saying that was a bit of an extreme reaction, innit?

"What's wrong?"

"The hostel I'm staying in doesn't have a shower."

Simon's nose wrinkles, "Doesn't sound like it'd smell all that pleasant."

"It really isn't."

A beat.

And Simon spoke up, voice as fragile as his hopes.

"You could come to my place."

[just1cefor4ll]

— You’re the kind of person they write rock songs about

modern!au Viktor x fem!reader warning. swearing, not proof read, might be OOC

part six || part seven || part eight

A/N. okay ngl this chapter is so shitty but i have serious writers block so i guess this will have to so :P

‘Your beauty is so vain

It drives me, yes, it drives me

absolutely insane.’

You stared at the ceiling, thinking about none other then Viktor. Who else would you be thinking about anyway? He’s been all over your mind for the past month so it’s no surprise he’s still lingering there even in this moment.

You were hanging out at Ekko’s dorm, asking for advice though he wasn’t of much help.

“Oh my fucking god Ekko you’re literally not helping at all.” You groan, putting a hand on your forehead. You sit up, sitting cross legged with Ekko barely paying attention to your paranoid self anymore. “How did you make the first move on Powder?” You ask desperately trying to get any useful advice out of him.

“Alright, listen," Ekko sighed, finally setting his phone down to give you his full attention. "First of all, you’re overthinking this way too much. Second—why are you even stressing? It’s Viktor."

You groaned, flopping back onto his bed dramatically. "That is exactly the problem, Ekko. It’s Viktor. He’s, like.. I don’t know.. him?And I don’t wanna screw this up."

Ekko rolled his eyes. "You’re acting like he’s some impossible riddle to solve."

"He kinda is!" You sat up again, running a hand through your hair. "He’s smart as hell, he overanalyzes everything, and he probably thinks I’m just being friendly whenever I try to flirt."

Ekko snorted. "You are just friendly. You’re terrible at flirting."

"Wow, thanks."

"Just saying," he shrugged. "If you actually wanna make a move, you gotta make it clear. No weird mixed signals. When I made the first move on Powder, I didn’t hesitate. I knew what I wanted, and I went for it."

You raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? And what did you do, Romeo?"

Ekko grinned, leaning back against the wall. "I told her straight-up that I liked her and then kissed her before she could overthink it."

Your eyes widened. "You what?"

"Yeah. No games, no confusion. Just straight to the point."

You stared at him like he had just grown a second head. "That’s insane. I can’t do that."

Ekko sighed dramatically. "Well then, I dunno what to tell you Y/N. If you wanna make a move, you either do it or you don’t. Simple as that."

You chewed on your lip, processing his words. "Okay. Maybe not that bold, but.. I get what you’re saying." “Good." Ekko picked his phone back up. "Now, if you’re done panicking, I’d like to get back to my very important business."

You peeked at his screen—he was watching cat videos.

With a sigh, you stood up. "Fine, fine. I’ll figure it out. But if this goes badly, I’m blaming you." "Yeah, yeah," he waved you off. "Just don’t overthink it. You got this."

You weren’t sure if you believed that yet, but still, you left his dorm with a little more determination than before.

You entered your dorm, opening your phone to text Viktor but it looks like he had thought a bit farther ahead then you had, because right there on your screen was a notification from none other then Viktor.

——————————————————————————

[vik.tor222] Are you free tonight?

[truly.y/n] oh? since when do u make plans?

[vik.tor222] Since I decided to make your night more interesting.

[truly.y/n] bold assumption that you being here is interesting

[vik.tor222] Admit it, you’d be devastated if I didn’t show up.

[truly.y/n] you’re delusional

[vik.tor222] Yet here you are, still replying instantly.

You frowned at your screen. He was getting cocky.

[truly.y/n] hm, what’s the occasion anyway? you bored or just wanna hang out?

[vik.tor222] or maybe i just want to see my favorite rockstar?

You huffed, but your stomach did a little flip.

[truly.y.n] whatever. maybe I don’t want to see you tonight

[vik.tor222] Lying doesn’t suit you, rockstar.

You bit your lip, ignoring the way your face warmed.

[truly.y/n] fine, pow is leaving around 8pm, i was just about to play my guitar so if you’re lucky you might get a free live performance >;D

[vik.tor222] Can’t wait.

——————————————————————————

You rolled your eyes, smiling like an idiot as you set your phone down.

When Viktor arrived, you were already playing your guitar, fingers idly plucking at the strings as you sat cross legged on your bed.

He leaned against the doorframe, watching you with that small, amused smirk of his. "You were serious about the live performance." "Always," you grinned, patting the space beside you. "Come in, take a seat. I promise not to charge you."

Viktor chuckled as he made his way over, sitting beside you on the bed. His cane rested against the nightstand as he settled in, tilting his head slightly as he listened to you play.

"You’re really good," he murmured after a moment.

You shot him a teasing look. "I have a band, Vik. Would be awkward if I sucked." Viktor huffed a laugh. "True. But still—you are impressive." Your heart did that stupid fluttery thing again. "..Thanks."

A comfortable silence followed as you continued to strum softly, just playing whatever came to mind. After a while, you set the guitar down and leaned back on your hands, glancing over at him

“So.. anything new in the lab?” You asked, keeping your voice light. Viktor hummed in thought. "Not really. Other then Jayce almost setting the lab on fire again." He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. You stiffle a laugh, gasping dramatically; “No way!” You say in mock surprise. “Yes.” Viktor shook his head. “I keep telling him, just because something looks stable does not mean it is stable.”

“Classic Jayce.”

“Unfortunately.”

"Why engineering and physics?" you ask suddenly, catching Viktor off guard.

"Hm?" he replies, raising an eyebrow.

You laugh awkwardly, fiddling with your guitar. "I mean, why those majors? Is there a cool backstory, or is it just something you're good at?"

Viktor thinks for a moment before answering. "I've always been fascinated by how things work—like putting together a puzzle. The more I learned, the more I wanted to create things that could change how people live."

You nod. "That makes sense.”

He tilts his head. "What about you? Art, right?"

"Yeah, for me, it's the opposite," you say, smiling. "Art is about creating things that don't necessarily make sense but still feel right."

Viktor considers this, then shrugs. "That sounds freeing." You laugh. "It is, but it’s also a challenge to make it come together. Just like your work, I guess." He nods slowly, a faint smile on his lips. "I get that."

You both fell into easy conversation after that, talking about random things—your band, his research, upcoming gigs, the ridiculous amount of people who had started messaging you online asking for new music.

Eventually, though, you both got tired of talking and decided to put on a movie.

Halfway through, you started to get really comfortable, shifting closer to Viktor. Without thinking too much about it, you leaned against him, resting your head on his shoulder. Viktor didn’t react at first—just a small, sharp inhale before he relaxed under you. Encouraged, you moved a little closer.

Then, in a move that surprised you, Viktor gently pulled you towards him, adjusting you so that you were practically lying against his chest.

Your heart stopped.

You hesitated for a moment before settling against him completely, your cheek resting over his heartbeat. His arm stayed around you, fingers lightly tracing up and down your back.

"You good?" you murmured, peeking up at him.

Viktor exhaled, a small smile playing on his lips. "Hm? Yeah.. m’fine.”

Neither of you moved after that. The movie continued playing in the background, but it barely mattered. The warmth of Viktor’s body, the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest—it was all so.. peaceful.

At some point, your eyes grew heavy, and before you knew it, sleep was tugging you under.

Viktor didn’t say anything when you finally drifted off, but he did let his fingers brush lightly over your arm, holding you just a little closer.

It wasn’t a confession. Not yet.

But it was something. And for now, that was more than enough.

Viktor woke up slowly, warmth pressing into his side, a weight draped over him.

It took a moment for the fog of sleep to clear, for him to register the steady rise and fall of your breathing, your head still tucked against his shoulder, arm loosely curled around him.

His chest tightened.

Carefully, he turned his head, just enough to see your face—eyes shut, lips slightly parted, hair falling messily against his shirt. Peaceful. Unaware of the way you had completely undone him.

His fingers twitched at his side.

He should move. He should.

But for a few more moments, he let himself stay.

How had he let this happen?

How had you managed to slip so effortlessly into his life, into his mind, until the thought of not having you there seemed impossible?

He swallowed.

He needed to tell you.

The thought alone made his pulse quicken, but—God, he couldn’t keep pretending. Not when you were right there, curled against him, like you belonged there.

The door swung open.

Viktor tensed, head snapping toward the entrance just in time to see Powder step inside.

She stopped short.

Eyebrows shot up.

Then, a slow, shit-eating grin.

“Well, well, well.”

Viktor exhaled sharply, already bracing himself.

“This is new,” Powder mused, crossing her arms. “Didn’t take you for a cuddler, lover boy.” Viktor frowned, carefully shifting Y/N’s arm off of him before sitting up. “It was not planned.” Powder’s grin only widened. “Sure it wasn’t.” He shot her a look before grabbing his cane and standing. Powder tilted her head. “So. You gonna tell her?” Viktor’s grip tightened slightly. “..I intend to.” Powder hummed, rocking back on her heels. “Good. ‘Cause I really don’t wanna watch you two keep dancing around each other.” Viktor shook his head, amused despite himself. “Yes, I am aware.”

Powder smirked, stepping aside as he made his way to the door. “Lover boy,” she called after him, just loud enough to make sure he heard it.

He didn’t give her the satisfaction of reacting.

He made his way towards his dorm, his mind full— full of you. This wasn’t new. He had spent too much time thinking about you, about what he felt, about what it meant. But now, after tonight, it wasn’t just in his head. It was real.

His fingers brushed over his phone, hesitating.

It was absurd, really, how fast it had all happened. How easily you had slipped into his life, uninvited, without him even realizing what was happening.

The first time he had ever seen you was at The Last Drop. He can’t imagine how differently his life could’ve went if he hadn’t agreed to Jayce’s constant begging and pestering about him going out and leaving studying behind for just a day.

He didn’t like the idea of being there, not for a bit at least— but then you came up onto that stage and he forgot how to think.

You had been something else entirely. The warm lights caught the curve of your smile perfectly— the easy confidence in the way you moved, the way you just carried yourself was so alluring, he couldn’t resist succumbing to your charm.

He hadn’t been the only one captivated.

That night, they had all been introduced to you. He knew of your existence before then, but that night he got to know you better— the musician, the artist, the lightning storm in human form.

He couldn’t wait to hang out with you again— not sure if that would even happen, but then Vi burst into the room with a text from her sister, that they’d be going to a café that week and that his group was invited. And there you had told him—offhand, casual—how it was your dream venue. How you had always wanted to play there.

And that gave him an idea.

Why had he even done it in the first place? The call? Setting up the entire gig? He wasn’t sure, but something deep inside him told him to do it—and so he did. In his mind, you deserved it. And when he saw the excitement in your eyes? His heart had felt like fireworks bursting on the Fourth of July.

And then—

The cheek kiss.

So quick, so effortless, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

That was when he knew. That was when he realized he was screwed.

And now— Now, he had to do something about it.

The whole damn friend group had been pestering him for weeks. Jayce, Ekko, Isha, Powder—all of them, telling him to stop being an idiot, to tell you.

Viktor exhaled, gripping his phone.

It was late.

Too late for this.

But his hands moved before he could stop himself.

——————————————————————————

[vik.tor222] I like you Y/N

[vik.tor222] like a lot

[vik.tor222] god you’re literally all i can think about you make me insane

[vik.tor222] i love you, rockstar.

——————————————————————————

He set his phone down as soon as he typed the last message, his mind racing with all the possible outcomes. What if you rejected him? What if you laughed in his face, or worse, ignored him completely? What if—

His phone buzzed.

And his mind went blank.

© just1cefor4all— I don’t consent to my writing being reposted to other platforms or fed into AI. Translating it is also strictly prohibited. 🚫

taglist: @erica2024 @lolixsstuff @skullmvncher @startingtoloveyou @astarionapologist @th3stup1dcat @fiveperrcent @fadedpinkpen @noxturnalmoth

[deadhands69]

Cute When You Stutter

loser!Shigaraki x gn/afab Reader

prev ◁ part 5 (final)

[series masterlist]

The league headquarters are quiet tonight, almost too quiet. Everyone has plans for Valentine’s day. Toga is out with her girlfriend. Dabi is doing whatever Dabi usually does at night. Even Spinner managed to score a date with his cute discord friend. 

Well, almost everyone has Valentine’s plans. Not you. Posting so many pictures with your boss, pretending to date him, then burning every bridge you know absolutely cemented your lack of a date or even friend hangout this year. 

Even Shigaraki has been pretty quiet tonight, making almost no noise in his room and you’re not entirely sure if you want to know what he’s doing in there. You’re almost certain he doesn’t have a date either though because you’ve never seen him voluntarily talk to anyone outside of the league. You also left a massive hickey on his neck two days ago which may be a slight deterrent for some people (Toga later asked you if you did this on purpose to keep Tomura to yourself, but admittedly you were just drunk and weren’t thinking that far ahead.)

Maybe it’s boredom or loneliness from being in your room alone all day, but you decide to see what he’s up to. Knocking a few more times than you normally would, you yell out “hey, it’s me,” before making your way into his room.

“Hey,” you walk in to find him on the floor surrounded in legos, sorted by color. “Want some help?”

He debates for a moment before nodding and handing you one of the instruction sheets. You sit quietly in the space next to him, glad for the company. 

“Thanks for hanging out tonight,” you say, pulling a few pieces from the red pile.

“Mmmhm.”

He turns to you with one side of his mouth quirked up in a smile. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Hugging you. Is that okay?” You can’t imagine why it wouldn’t be, considering that he let you sit on his face yesterday. 

“Yeah, it’s just different,” he mumbles into your shoulder, “usually you only get close when you want something or you’re messing with me.”

“I’m not messing with you. At least, not always.” 

He pulls back, looking at you incredulously. “Why else would you do stuff like this? I’m not stupid, I know you just like to fuck with me.” 

“Of course I do, you’re cute when you’re flustered. It’s not like I don’t get anything out of it too though.”

Tomura doesn’t respond, busying himself with a few green blocks as the tips of his ears turn pink. 

A few minutes later, your creation begins to take shape.

“Flowers?” you ask, amused. “You don’t really strike me as the type to decorate with lego flowers.”

“They’re not for me,” he mutters in response.

“Oh yeah? Then who are they for?” You realize the answer immediately after the words leave your mouth. You’re the only person he has ever shown interest in, who else would they be for? He bites his lip, blushing profusely as he stares at you. 

“You were making me flowers, even if you thought I only spent time with you as a joke?” 

“Kind of,” he searches for a specific yellow piece before continuing, “I never actually thought I had a chance with you. But seeing everything this week, I figured you probably don’t have anyone else to buy you flowers. And you’re really cool so someone should. Why not me?”

He looks hurt for a moment before focusing hard on getting a piece to fit properly. 

You think back, trying to remember the last time anyone ever bothered to be this nice to you. Yet here he is doing so without any expectations. Spending hours putting together an expensive lego bouquet when he could easily have just bought you cheap gas station flowers or done nothing at all.

“They’re beautiful,” you whisper, “thanks.”

He smiles at you, subtly scratching his neck. “And you don’t owe me anything for them. Not that I mind everything you’ve been doing, but you don’t have to.”

“No?” you ask, moving a strand of pale blue hair out of his face, “but what if I want to?”

Bringing your lips to his feels natural at this point. You’ve done it so many times now that it’s all you want to do, but it still feels so new to you. He kisses you back with confidence you've only seen him show in battle. You climb onto his lap, legs straddling each side of him.

Your hand slides up his chest, wrapping lightly around his throat. As your thumb brushes over the new scratches, he leans into the touch. Tentatively, you give a little squeeze. He moans. You make a mental note to come back to that sometime. For now, you selfishly want him to last long enough to get yourself off too. 

As the two of you begin to make out more passionately, you drag yourself over his thigh. You're careful not to press too far forward into the tent forming in his pants; remembering how fast he came yesterday. He gets the idea quickly, grabbing your hips with two fingers and a thumb to press you harder into him. Without much contact, he’s already breathing heavily along with you.

You scoot back to pull your shirt off. Slowing down the motion, you watch as his jaw drops at the sight. He fumbles removing his own shirt, decaying it in the process. Like you suspected, he's hot. His baggy clothes covering how toned he is.

“F-fuck,” Tomura mumbles as you slide your shorts off. 

Without wasting time, you find your way back onto his lap. He looks up at you through messy hair, mouth agape and eyelids heavy. You take a second to run your hands over his abs and chest, memorizing the feel of every scratch and scar along the way. When you reach the hem of his sweatpants, you pull them halfway down his thighs along with his underwear. Running your fingers over his length, you give him a few firm strokes. He closes his eyes, hips jumping at your touch. Still grasping him in one hand, you line yourself up and little by little, you lower onto his surprisingly perfect dick. Reaching his base, you pause in amazement. Taking in how how perfectly he fits into you. If you’d known that, you would have stumbled into his room the first time you heard him moan your name while he touched himself at night.

Better late than never though.

As you should have expected, he cums almost immediately. Gripping your hips, his head falls forward as he chokes back a groan. 

“Ah shit,” he pants, “‘m sorry.”

After some reassurance that you take it as a huge compliment, he’s hard again and ready to go.

Once more, you slowly ease your way down him as he stretches you perfectly in the right places. Taking things slow, you lean forward and kiss him. His unruly hair tickles against your nose. He adapts to your slow movements quickly. Since meeting you, he’s gotten better at this, moving his lips gently to dance against yours. 

Emotions flood in, overwhelming you. He’s the grouchiest loser and the sweetest boy you’ve ever met. The symbol of fear who completely melts at the slightest bit of affection from you. His hands destroy everything he touches but you've never felt anything but safe with him. All of the details of Tomura conflict and make sense at the same time, forming into the complex person whimpering sweetly against your lips. 

You rock your hips into his, barely having to move to hit the sweet spot that sends warm tingles through your whole body.

“[y/n], fuck you feel so good,” he whines. 

“This what you imagined every night?” you tease, bouncing faster as your excitement grows.

“B-better,” he gasps. 

He looks so pretty like this. Flushed skin and kiss-swollen lips. He stares up at you with big red eyes, trying desperately not to cum again but you know he’s close.

Fortunately, you are too.

With another snap of your hips, you find yourself crumbling around him. Your movements stutter before slamming down to engulf all of him. This time it’s your turn to grasp his shoulders to keep yourself upright. He lets go at the sight, smashing his face into yours as you both moan into a sloppy kiss. Your breathing slows, you begin to come down, but your lips continue to trace over each other.

“I’ll be right back,” you kiss him again before pressing yourself from the floor to go clean up. You revel in the way he leans wantonly into your every touch, even when he’s on the verge of sleep. 

When you get back to his room, Tomura has collapsed into his bed, passed out from the evening. You’re not far behind. Climbing in next to him, he unconsciously wraps an arm around you.

Laying in his bed surrounded in bags of trash, stray legos, and energy drink cans, you realize you'll have to teach him about cleaning tomorrow.

Through the walls, you listen as everyone slowly trickles in for the night. One by one, they all make their way back to their rooms. 

But not you. 

This time you stay.

↺ series masterlist - bnha masterlist

taglist: @shigarakislaughter @kalulakunundrum @jimabbenamara @aryuunachigiri

[industrations]

one thing about your art which makes me uncomfortable is you make remus conventionally attractive. the fandom all agree remus lupin is a wet noodle of a man but actually no artist draws him that and it's getting weird. make him unattractive and he can be loved by sirius. he doesn't need to be that tall and buff like why do you always make him so tall to draw him next to sirius. is it because you're aware of the fact sirius is canonically tall? if so it's baffling indi, you just had the surgery but if you have some time you'd want to read it - www.tumblr.com/carlav-blogs/741256502359228416/i-hate-joining-the-fandom-discourse-because-i?source=share - and look deep inside of yourself and think again about your art. i know you can't publish it but i gotcha. good luck /gen

Hello!

I have been thinking about responding to this at all but it seems like i have a lot to say, so here goes.

Due to contrary belief i draw for myself. I draw for me because i enjoy it and it makes me happy. And if it makes others happy then thats a lovely bonus. I draw because i love the bit of magic and creative freedom of being able to put that on paper.

What i don’t do is draw for other people to give me validation or to give them satisfaction. What’s getting weird is that you are so upset over characters that are written by a terf. Someone that is extremely harmful. Characters that DO NOT EXIST.

I’m sick of this endless debate of "oh but CANONICALLY sirius was taller" who the fuck cares. In the movies remus had like a whole head on sirius.

You know whats the one wonderful thing about this fandom? Every single artists and writers version of these characters. They take them and make them their own. I love the way i can read 10 wolfstar fics and all ten of them are wildly different versions of them. They fall in love with each other unconditionally and i with them.

I’ve been told I’m not valid, that i don’t deserve to exist, that i should have DIED in surgery. There is really vile and hateful people in this fandom but you know what. I’m not here for you, my art isn’t for you it’s for ME.

I would like to say I resent this fandom but it’s brought me so much joy as well. I’ve met some of the most talented and wonderful people. I met my very best friend because of this fandom. I traveled places to see people i love because of dead gay wizards. I have found a place that is so wonderfully accepting. A queer community that I will never have in real life. The amount of freedom and expression is something that drew me in and will make me stay.

I hope you get the day you deserve, and I will continue my life where I live it for me and no one else <3

[theheadlessphilosopher]

I really don’t understand why people hate Tommy so much? Like. It’s okay not to like the guy, but if you think he’s just a temporary love interest anyways then literally why do you care???

[alaskan-wallflower]

Brody showed up to work this week! OMG!!! Does he want a medal?? Josh Boone has a CHILD and he’s in more than Brody.

And I know you’re going to use the shitty excuse “he’s been in a lot!!!” but that’s bullshit. Why are we praising an adult man for showing up to work.

why do you care? why are you bitching about him being absent? and i know you’re gonna use the shitty excuse “Oh BuT hE HaSnT bEeN iN!” but like…he has been? this message is confusing lmfao do you want him to be in or not? you’re insinuating both. make your intentions clear.

im saying its nice that he’s in more is all. if you don’t like what i post or what i say on MY blog mind you then block me.

also i think you should come off anon and talk to me face to face but whatever. be a coward and use the mask of anonymity to hide who you are. i find it funny all these people who are anti outsiders or anti brody choose to stay on anon. like say it to my face. if i can answer you without anonymity have the decency to say this kind of thing to my face.

and btw i’m not praising him for “going to work” im saying it’s nice that he’s in more and seems to be enjoying his job again. and why do his absence matter so much to you? why does it bother you so much that he’s out and that i post about it being a good thing that someone seems to be finally having fun at their job after a rough patch?don’t put words in my mouth.

so cry about it and block me if you’d not like my content. thank you!

(just figured i’d mention by the way that i’m not saying that if you dislike brody you’re automatically on my shit list. everyone is entitled to their own opinions. everyone is allowed to think whatever they want AS LONG AS IT ISNT HURTING ANYONE. but i do think it’s funny how im the one everyone sends anonymous brody hate to like some of the things you anti brody people say about him are WILD. so yes. i will defend him in the reason that nobody should be bitching about his absences or saying rude things, but i absolutely don’t want it to seem like i’m saying that you HAVE to like him. You don’t have to like him but it’s possible to not like him without being a huge jerk to him or anyone who supports him.)

[trueloveandy]

feeling inadequate about my writing tonight

[prisonhannibal]

Families in Gaza are starving because of Israel blocking resources from entering. The consequences of childhood starvation are severe and deadly, both immediately and long term. Malnutrition weakens your immune system and leaves you more vulnerable to infectious diseases, and makes it harder for your body to fight the illness, so the chance of severe illness from common illnesses is higher. Even completely treatable illnesses can kill you when you’re starving and don’t have access to medical care. This combined with lack of clean and safe drinking water is extremely dangerous, especially for the children. Malnutrition stunts your growth, affects your development and heightens risk of serious health problems for the rest of your life. Being underweight and suffering from malnutrition makes you cold more easily, and more vulnerable to hypothermia.

Can you imagine as a parent having to witness your child suffering like this? Fearing for your children’s lives from what would usually be a relatively minor illness? Hearing them cry from hunger because the occupation is starving them? This is every parents worst nightmare, but for Ahed this is reality.

Ahed has three beautiful young daughters under 10 years old. 9 year old Fatima “the closest to (Ahed’s) heart and my little one”, 6 year old Iman “the friendly, kind, and loving child who is loved by everyone” and little Nour, who is only one year old and has barely got to experience peace in her short life.

He campaigns every day to get attention for his campaign to feed them and keep them warm and hopefully evacuate when the border opens. We have the power to help Ahed and his little children survive this. Food prices in Gaza are extremely high and it’s difficult to even get water. Ahed and his family do not have adequate shelter from the cold. Donations can help him buy food and clothing and blankets for his children to keep them warm in the winter They’re already suffering so much from the sounds of bombs and repeated displacements, starvation and infectious diseases is another cruel consequence of the occupations genocide in Gaza.

I know he is scared and exhausted from asking for help for this, but he keeps going because his children are his whole world, and like any parent he would do anything to save them. This is his hope. I believe it’s our job, as the people who support and care about palestinians lives, to make sure the people who reach out for help know that the world hasn’t forgotten them. Please show Ahed that the compassionate people of the world will help him

they only have €7,153 raised out of the 40,000 goal. Anything you send will help a lot ❤️

DONATE HERE + VETTING (#229 on the spreadsheet)

@vampiricvenus @appsa @heritageposts @nabulsi @dirhwangdaseul @tamamita @butchniqabi @autisticmudkip @finalgirlabigailhobbs @sawasawako @khanger @neechees @loumandivorce @cuntylouis @jdon @dlxxv-vetted-donations @beserkerjewel @handweavers @socalgal @anneemay @pikslasrce @deepspaceboytoy

[unluckiestmember]

YAY, YOU'RE BACK TO WRITING FOR ARCANE. How would the arcane characters react (mainly vi, ekko, and jinx because i would marry, marry, and marry them all!!) to a reader who is sooo affectionate and finds every last thing they do so cute they get cuteness aggression and just jump at them like a cuddle bug often? thank you so much!!

Coming right up!

Arcane x Cuddle Bug! Reader

Characters: Powder/Jinx, Violet "Vi", Ekko, Caitlyn Kiramman, Viktor, Jayce Talis, Mel Medarda, Sevika and Ran.

Warning: None really. SFW.

A/N: Am I the only one who wants to snuggle into Caitlyn? Ugh, I love her so much.

Powder/Jinx

“Oh! Hey there, sugar! You want to cuddle? Don’t have to ask me twice! I’ll cuddle you so much that you get tired of me! But you’d never get tired of me, right?”

Jinx is a super clingy person, so for you to be as clingy as her it’s like you two are a match made in heaven. There’s barely any time that passes when you two are not touching each other and she lives for your cuddles. It doesn’t matter if you hug her out of nowhere or she sees you about to embrace her, she is stopping everything she is doing and pulling you into the tightest of hugs.

Most of the time if she isn’t causing mayhem in the streets of Zaun or busy with her inventions, she will spend her time just holding you so close and showering your face with the cutest but most childish of kisses. She doesn’t care if it’s in private or public, she will make it known that you two can’t keep your hands off each other. You are her cuddlebug and she is yours and that won’t ever change.

Violet “Vi”

“Woah there, cuddle bug! You’re gonna make me screw up my workout… Oh forget it. How can I say no to you?”

Because Violet is absolutely touch starved, she will never decline your cuddles, even if you take her by surprise a few times with how you hug her so suddenly. She finds it adorable how you fangirl around her and find everything she does to be awesome or cute. Granted she does wish you’d call her hot or sexy, but knows that isn’t really in tune with your personality.

Regardless, she tries to make sure you know how adorable you are, always telling you while you two are cuddled up together how lucky she is to have you and how you are so adorable. Even when you visit her at work, she’ll try to drop everything and have you run into her arms to pick you up. And every time she’s got time off work or is coming back from a job, she’s automatically looking for you so she could hook you in her arms and never let go.

Ekko

“Y/N, haha! You know we gotta keep this private, babe- The kids are gonna pounce on us any second now!”

Does Ekko love hugging you? Absolutely. The warmth of your arms around his body makes him stop everything he’s doing and just hug you while calling you his firelight or firefly. Unless he’s calling you an angel or lovebug, which never fails to make Scar either look at you two in awe or roll their eyes in mock annoyance. Unfortunately, Ekko does try his best to make sure you two don’t get super affectionate around the children, especially when it comes to hugs.

Why? Because as soon as you hug him, the children find this as an invitation to gather around him and have him nearly die under a cuteness overload of a group hug. It’s nice as a once in a while occurrence, but all the time? Maybe not. Outside of the reactions you two garnish and even the teasing of you being the firelight king/queen, Ekko lives for your cuddlebug energy, wanting to be in your arms after a long day’s work. It’s always the best way to end the night… 

Caitlyn Kiramman

“And that’s why if I am able to block this end of the road, I’ll- Oh!... Oh come here, sweetheart. If you wanted to cuddle so badly, you could’ve asked.”

Caitlyn has always been someone who was more subtle with her love, pulling you into brief kisses, cupping your cheek and holding you by your waist. She usually leaves the more out there gestures like hugging and cuddling for you to initiate. But when you do? It might be harder for you to get her off of you instead of the other way around. It can be at work, in her home, outside of work or at an event. As soon as she feels your arms wrap around her slender body, she’s stopping for a second to hold you back and kiss your forehead.

She will continue working if you interrupt her during a briefing or in the middle of cracking a case, but the entire time, she will have at least one arm around your body and make sure you are comfortable. Her comrades tease her about it and she’ll scowl a bit, but she doesn’t care. As far as she can tell, she’s extremely lucky to have you as a lover.

Viktor

“Ah! Oh, it is just you, zolotse. Remember, you have to warn me of these cute little hugs of yours.”

At first, Viktor wasn’t used to your physical affection and how you were in awe of everything he did. He actually thought you were mocking him at first or being silly. But after a while, especially when the two of you became a couple, he grew accustomed to your affections. He does get a bit startled when you hug him out of nowhere and he does have moments where you cheering him on does make him a bit bashful, but he enjoys your sweet gestures regardless.

He does find it difficult to be as outgoing with his love for you as you are with him, but he does try his best to make you realize he loves you, especially in the form of quality time and calling you by sweet pet names bound to make you blush. Viktor has a tendency to pass out from working too hard and waking up in your arms. And though he’d never say it out loud, you know based on the way he snuggles into you, he adores it and adores you.

Jayce Talis

“I know what you want and I want it too- So bring it in! I’ve waited all day to be in your arms!”

Because Jayce is always out at work, it’s kind of hard for you two to be around one another all the time. That’s why when he does reunite with you after hours or you two can be together on days off, he’s spending the majority of his free time with you or wrapped around you. He sort of craves for your praise and compliments as much as he craves your cuddles.

Many would compare the councilman to a needy dog wanting his owner’s undivided attention and he definitely gets that through you. Though he may try to act all cool or play coy, everyone knows that you mean so much to him and that he becomes putty around you. Even if they don’t, you’re not afraid to say it aloud. Just make sure Jayce isn’t around or that man will become redder than a beet.

Mel Medarda

“What’s wrong?... I know that look. You want to- Ah! Well looks like you beat me to the punch, darling. How about we take this to the bed, hmm?”

Mel wasn’t really given physical affection when she was younger. She was more someone who preferred verbal affection with words of affirmation. So when it came to you and how affectionate you are, she found herself adapting and loving physical affection as much as telling you how much she loved you.

Your cuddles and sweet gestures are her personal heaven she loves returning to after a long day’s work, especially if she can spend an evening with you platonically in your shared bed. In your arms, she feels she can air out anything that’s bothering her or interests her, especially when you admit how cute it is when she does. Though this kind of intimate affection is delegated to private quarters, anyone can know from the way Mel speaks of you outside of home and at events that you mean so much to her.

Sevika

“Yeah! So then I was like screw you, I can do whatever- Hold on. Uh, Y/N. I thought we agreed to not do this at work?”

Sevika is considered the Right Hand of Zaun, a woman who is feared if not respected by her peers. And she’d like to keep it that way. Which means that while you two are at work, she prefers it if you don’t cuddle her around co-workers and give them something to tease her about. You two can only flirt and kiss and even then, it has to be sexy…

But alone, when both of you are away from the public eye, Sevika is at your beck and call wishing for nothing else but to hear your sweet praises and melt into your arms and touch. Expect her to call you the cutest thing ever and tease you on occasion, but afterwards she’s basically a big needy cat, or as she prefers to be called, a panther. It’s moments like these where you can really consider yourself lucky to see a raw side of Sevika. And it was only preserved for you.

If you got any requests for Arcane or X-Men '97, send them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3