#keeps the noodles warm
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Today on a very special editon of Master Unchef
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Have any of you seen those new pics of tjr holding a teddy in those sneak peaks from vail of shadow?
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He really looked like a kid holding that teddy and pouting at others. Cause that is giving me... ideas.
I already talked about how Zhuo Yichen turning into an itty bitty noodle dragon when something goes wrong in his demon transformation and now I am thinking what if it happened earlier?? And to keep him warm, Zhuo Yixuan, his gege gave a him a stuffed teddy to curl around whenever he turned into a noodling.
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Edit: hehehe found more pics
#fangs of fortune#veil of shadows#zhuo yichen#zhuo yixuan#noodling yichen#dragon noodling zhuo yichen#noodling xiao zhuo curling around the stuffed teddy his gege gave him to keep him warm
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Get u a baby that can do both (slay dragons and befriend dragons)
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Big Baby Rosie trying to convince me that this is actually her side of the bed now.
#Sabine my beloved. You look so smart in that fancy coat. So warm and ready for adventures.#As for Rosie...Maybe I will have to buy her a noodle pillow of her own#Sabine aka Beanie Baby#Big baby Rosie#Dogs are better than people#I'm really struggling with my body today but the puppies are keeping me on my toes so I can't dwell on it too much
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A certain Mar//vel characcter has been trending as of recently and i was overwhelmed with the urge to draw her fat <3
#weight gain#chub art#chubby gal#soft feedism#she's uhhhhhh trying to keep warm for the winter of course#noodle art
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yandere! golden boy who is your loving boyfriend and... surprisingly loves listening to you talk about your interests! yes darling, talk about your games and novels and silly plushies! he loves seeing how interested you can get about things you're passionate about and it just makes him feel so warm on the inside.
you might even go as far to say he ENCOURAGES your interests. buying you plushies, taking you to exhibitions/places you want... you don't even have to ask, just one look with your eyes and he's taking out his card. yeah, it doesn't matter if you have an unhealthy attachment to that fat cat pusheen or whatever. you seem to really like it so he's buying that 400 dollar plushie for you.
on the same note... he can't help but get jealous when you're gushing over attractive fictional characters. SPECIFICALLY that ONE dude that you seem to have EVERYWHERE. on the wall, on your phone cover, lock screen, profile picture, fuck, even on your bed as a plushie! and all he gets is a meager nickname on his contact?!
"sweetie, must you... really have all these... THINGs of HIM?"
"he's my first husband, you're my second. of course i have merch of him. plus I'm not gonna just throw all these away, i spent big money on these ya know 💀"
he knows it's petty! he knows that it's just a fictional character and that he shouldn't be jealous but dude! you don't even have him in your wallet! it's that freaking guy!
so he does what evey sane boyfriend does and replaces some (not all just some!) of your merchandise with pictures of him and you. how adorable, right?
no.
"bro where is the portrait of my MAN🤬🤬🤬"
"i replaced it with a nice picture of us together darling☺️ look at how cute-"
oh. and you...you just put another photo of that guy again... oh... and you're ranting on reddit/instagram about how he's being mean... you also removed him from your close friends list... oh you... you also decided to kick him off the bed and onto the sofa... oh...
well no biggie! he has lots of patience and he will sneak in his presence into your stuff. he's determined.
"best friend I'm going to need you to cosplay as my favorite character please ☺️"
damn!
why didn't he think of that sooner? if you can't win the normal way, you should do it another way, right? he can just get you to see how much better he is and you'll eventually replace that fictional man for HIM!
...
yeah, that didn't work out as planned. now you're even more in love with that character and you're asking him to cosplay every other day. erm... at least.. your wallpaper is a picture of him cosplaying the character??? he'll take what he can get.
"lol best friend, did you see that video i sent you. it's so stupid."
"for the last time, sweetie. we're dating, call me boyfriend. and which one? I can't watch every single one of the 99+ reels you send me."
"a real best friend would watch them all..."
being with you has singlehandedly changed this man. for the worse or for the better, he doesn't know. but what he does know is that you DON'T know how to dress.
"sweetie, no. you can't just go out in a shirt and shorts! you look like adam sandler!"
"clothes are clothes 🤬"
at least he has a fun time dressing you up. you're like, his cute little rat! his very own personal dress up rat! oh how he wants to just keep you in his pocket and pick out pretty clothes for you, making you look like the cutest thing ever! sure you might take them off and just wear what you want but... at least he's got the photos and the sight of you in a pretty outfit ingrained into the folds of his brain already ☺️ and he'll take every chance he can get to put you into another pretty outfit again. that i assure you.
he... has ALSO found out that you are living on instant noodles, sandwiches, and the occasional takeout. you don't even open the curtains! how can you see in such a dark home? and why are you sleeping until midday?! dear oh dear. you really are a rat, huh?
"darling get up! it's 12 in the afternoon already!"
"i slept at 3 just let me sleep more..."
that simply won't do. he will not be allowing you to lead such a horrid lifestyle! not if he can help it! especially because... well, he's also your boss. from part 1, remember! yeah, you guys didn't break up at the end haha! you were just joking, obviously! not like you'll ever be able to break up. it's in the contract, silly.
"come on, get up. you need to have a healthy lifestyle. I've already gotten my personal chef to cook up a healthy meal for you."
"who's gonna stop me from living like this? you? 😂😂😂"
"yes, me. in our contract, remember? i will be responsible for your health from now till we die."
don't worry. he'll be by your side every step of the way. and hey, who knows? maybe you can even teach him a thing or two about gaming or something else you like! he's open to learning about the things you like.
and he won't even have to worry about you finding another REAL person to like because... well, let's just say you don't even like going out for dinner. we'll keep it at that ☺️
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#yandere#tw yandere#yandere x reader#yandere drabbles#yandere scenarios#yandere imagines#yandere concepts#yandere golden boy#yandere golden boy x reader#suiana rambling#suiana brainrotting
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Simon Ghost Riley x you
Cooking with Simon 🍆🍒🍑
The kitchen was warm, the scent of garlic and herbs filling the air as you stood at the counter, chopping vegetables. Music played softly from the speaker, setting a light, playful mood. Simon leaned against the counter beside you, arms crossed, his mask pushed up to reveal his mouth.
“You’re doing it wrong,” he said, his low voice laced with amusement as he watched you work.
You shot him a glare, knife pausing mid-chop. “Oh, really? And when was the last time you cooked anything other than instant noodles?”
His lips quirked in a rare smile. “Doesn’t mean I can’t supervise.”
He stepped closer, towering over you, his chest brushing your back as he reached for your hands. His rough fingers covered yours, guiding the knife. “Like this,” he murmured, his voice low and close to your ear.
The proximity made your breath hitch, and you could feel the heat radiating off him. His hands lingered a moment too long before he let go, but he didn’t step back. Instead, his hands slid to your hips, holding you firmly in place.
“Simon…” you started, your voice trembling slightly.
“Keep chopping,” he ordered, his tone deep and teasing.
You tried to focus, but it was impossible with the way his fingers were now tracing lazy circles on your waist, the heat of his touch burning through the thin fabric of your shirt. His lips brushed the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.
“Careful,” he whispered, his voice a rough growl. “Wouldn’t want you to cut yourself.”
The knife clattered to the counter as you turned in his arms, your pulse racing. “You’re distracting me.”
His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you flush against him. “Maybe that’s the point.”
The intensity in his gaze made your knees weak. Without warning, he lifted you onto the counter, stepping between your legs. His hands splayed on either side of you, caging you in as his lips claimed yours. The kiss was fiery, possessive, leaving no room for doubt that he was in control.
The forgotten vegetables and simmering pan were nothing but background noise as his lips trailed down your neck, teeth grazing your skin.
“Simon,” you gasped, your hands gripping his broad shoulders.
“Shh,” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble against your throat. “Dinner can wait.”
And with the way his hands roamed your body and his lips left trails of fire wherever they touched, you couldn’t bring yourself to argue.
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FIXED COMFORT | SUNGHOON
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SUMMARY: typically, sunghoon’s the one who takes care of you when you’ve had one too many. but once in a blue moon, he lets his guard down and allows you to care for him the way he does for you.
or, the one where sunghoon’s drunk at a bar and misses his girlfriend a little too much.
NOTES: idk I just feel like someone should let him sleep for six months straight!!!
PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader
WORD COUNT: 4.4K (4444 exactly—she’s a shortie).
WARNINGS: fluff on fluff on fluff.
***
“Hey, do you think you could come get Sunghoon from the bar? He’s been asking for you for the past hour.”
Jay’s phone call pulls you out from a deep slumber on a Saturday night that falls on a day with no plans other than pure relaxation. Sunghoon had been preoccupied with work and classes this past week and wanted to unwind by drinking at his favorite bar with his closest friends and all you wanted to do was sleep the weekend away.
Since the two of you started dating six months ago after being friends for a little over two years, you both agree on the notion that you’ve found a good balance between time spent together and apart respectively. Nothing fundamentally changed with the exception of kissing and touching one another in the way a couple would. He still respects your independence and you respect his time away from you as well.
Sunghoon learned quickly that you’re the type of person who values your alone time more than anything else. When he first started developing feelings for you, grappling with your absence wasn’t easy. He initially thought you weren’t interested in getting to know him the way he was with you because you weren’t afraid to decline invitations and telling people ‘no.’ Slowly, over the course of many months of pining and late night conversations, did Sunghoon learn that you’re typically your best self after a moment of isolation.
Your boyfriend is somewhere in between an introvert and extrovert. He tends to be shy when he meets people he isn’t familiar with while his loud, rambunctious attitude is typically reserved for those who know him best. He likes to keep to himself for the most part, giving some of his personality away when he feels his walls start to crumble naturally. You love that he has a good head on his shoulders and that he’s able to tell you about his feelings while maintaining an air of confidence. He doesn’t inherently need anybody; he likes your company and will do anything to keep it.
Moments like this are when your heart feels softer for Sunghoon than when the two of you were just friends.
“I know you wanted to spend the weekend alone but Hoon’s been saying your name all night,” Jay says. “I’m sorry for waking you up.”
“No, it’s fine.” You’re sure Jay can hear your brittle voice. “Are you guys at the bar near your place?”
“That’s the one. Thanks again and I’m really sorry for waking you up.”
“Don’t sweat it. Cook me something next week if you still feel bad.”
“I can do that. Chili oil noodles with shrimp sound good?”
“It’s almost like you know me.” He laughs at your sarcasm.
“Drive safe.”
When Jay hangs up, you allow yourself a few minutes to adjust and wake up, stretching your body from the warm comfort of your blankets. You change out of Sunghoon’s shirt to put on pajama pants and another one of his stolen shirts, opting not to take a jacket since you figure you won’t be out for very long.
You thank your past self for filling up your gas tank before tonight after having put it off for a few days. Knowing Sunghoon, he would still scold you for allowing yourself to run nearly empty before filling it up even if he was inebriated. Somehow, knowing this about him brings a smile to your face.
Sunghoon’s the kind of guy who likes to have some control over certain things. He likes order and structure, often waking up at the same hour every weekday to build a routine his body can remember. He’s been like that since you first met him but you think it’s part of his charm. Even from two years ago, when you met him through Jake Sim, Sunghoon has maintained a level of confidence and control that he does now. On the heels of an impressive skating career before pivoting to focus on higher education, Sunghoon had his preferences and will stick by them.
His discipline is the first thing you noticed when you met him for the first time. Jay, someone you were already familiar with, agreed to cook dinner with your friend group under the condition that everyone helped him shop and chip in for the meal. Sunghoon held Jake back from buying unnecessary things like boxed chocolate milk and candy because Jay had desserts back at his place. He held a checklist of items whereas the rest of your friends ran up and down the aisles without thinking much about what needed to be purchased.
Sunghoon’s near-meticulous behavior is juxtaposed to your chaotic and rambunctious nature. You often follow your gut instead of setting a solid plan because you’re not concerned with meeting deadlines, sans education. Whereas you tend to lean towards a go-with-the-flow attitude, Sunghoon is the opposite. But that’s something he loves about you.
At a surface level distinction, it didn’t seem like the two of you would get along as well as you did. It surprised Jake when Sunghoon asked for your number so he could text you about seeing a comedy film with him as no one else in the group wanted to see it. Including you at an impromptu study session with him (Sunghoon was organized and neat while your pens were spread all over and your study methods, haphazard) felt like watching two people clash.
Rather, you and Sunghoon complement one another.
The idea of letting himself go with someone who wasn’t part of his friend collective was unheard of. Getting to know a girl who didn’t share similar lifestyles didn’t appeal to him before meeting you, and you’re inarguably the most chaotic person Sunghoon knows. But he finds that there’s order within your chaos—you know who you are and what you want, and you will not compromise yourself just to please other people.
It’s what Sunghoon loves the most about you. There’s a boundary you never let anyone cross under the assumption that your own safety net feels compromised. He’s watched you lose friends for this same reason and has always admired the way you carry yourself like you know you deserve better than people who disrespect you. He’s witnessed the grace you maintain when people who call you a friend voice words of kindness but speak ill about you behind your back. If anything, Sunghoon feels pity for anyone who crosses you to the point of anger. To be envious of another’s confidence is one thing. To make that known is another.
Sunghoon learns that you let your inhibitions go because holding control over yourself feels like a burden. It feels like setting a standard you will never be able to meet. He never thought of order in that way before getting to know you. Your approach to life sparked a new wave of emotions within him to the point where he was open and willing to let you farther into his life.
His days were ruled by guidelines he had to maintain and proper etiquette that followed him even off the rink. The poise he carried from his career on the ice bled into his personal life too. Although, he doesn’t mind that it does. Sunghoon values any form of structure because it makes him feel like he has a purpose and that there’s something to be accomplished at the end of the day.
Most times, Sunghoon’s feels like people judge him for his regimen and can’t fathom why he appreciates control so much. They tell him to let loose and enjoy his time away from his career. People always think he simply doesn’t know how to have fun because he’s set in his ways and won’t let other people coax him into doing something he’s not comfortable with. But not you. Sunghoon has never felt like you‘ve judged how he chooses to live his life.
Before he knew it, a year had passed and he started to call you one of his best friends. The friendship was gradual. Sunghoon didn’t have many close female friends in the way he does with Heeseung, Jay, and Jake. You’re the first person since ending his career who hasn’t tried to pry into the why. In fact, Sunghoon enjoys that you didn’t bring it up.
(You did, in the form of cooing over his younger self skating in competitions for the first time or roasting all of the outfits he had to wear. But somehow, all of your jabs made him feel happier than when people complimented his performance.)
Eventually, being around you felt too right. He loved it when you took naps on his bed and felt comfortable raiding your kitchen pantry without permission. Sunghoon could leave you in his apartment without him being in it and feel at ease. In fact, he started to look forward to coming home to you. All it took was seeing you wear his hoodie because you got too cold and forgot your jacket, to make him drop his bag by the front door and ask you to be his girlfriend. He hasn’t regretted anything with you since.
The weather is cold outside since it’s approaching the middle of autumn. You let your car warm up and blast the heat all the way up while adjusting your defrosting settings before heading to the bar to pick up Sunghoon. You sift through your playlists and settle on soft indie melodies before you drive away from the curb.
You’ve never seen Sunghoon get drunk to the point of needing extra help. Usually, you’re the one who goes a little too hard whenever Heeseung brings out the alcohol or if Jake offers an edible or two. Sunghoon likes to sit back and stay sober (or sober up by the end of the night) when he notices you having too much fun. He doesn’t mind, though. Sunghoon likes taking care of you because sometimes it gives him purpose. You’ve never understood that sentiment but to each their own.
The only times you’ve seen him completely wasted are usually when you’re equally as gone, like on your first road trip as a couple. The five of you rented a lakehouse a few hours from Seoul and spent an entire weekend basking under the hot sun and chose to forget about university stress before finals would inevitably kick everyone’s ass. All five of you were cross-faded (but not without Jay and Sunghoon both prepping water bottles and snacks for when the munchies would hit prior to taking anything). You watched Sunghoon relax to the point where he was much quieter than he normally was and when you asked if he was doing alright, he looked you in the eye and told you he loved you for the first time.
I always have, I think, he said as he brought your hand to his chest. You might not believe me because neither of us are sober but I swear I’ll tell you in the morning.
Sunghoon gets affectionate when he’s drunk or high, often to the point of asking for reassurance. The rational side of his brain is temporarily disfigured. You don’t mind being there to tell him that he’s the love of your life and you’d never go anywhere when he gets like this. Although, you’re usually just as gone and gush all of your hidden emotionally-charged feelings, which pair well with Sunghoon’s need for validation sometimes.
Your friends love your relationship. They don’t think it’s too much or too little, going so far as to take photos of the two of you when you aren’t looking. Some are funny like the pictures of you sleeping on his chest with drool pooling out of your mouth. Others are romantic and whimsical, like the pictures of Sunghoon looking at you like you’re the sunshine to his moonlight. They can’t get enough of you two. Your friends love knowing people they care about are deeply in love with one another and your relationship is somewhat of a reminder that true romance does exist.
Thinking about this makes your heart swell as you park your car and tuck your keys inside your purse. The bouncer checks your ID and lets you inside the bar, and you already spot Jay off to the side.
“Thanks for coming,” he says as he gives you a loose hug. “And sorry for waking you up.”
You wave him off. “It’s fine. I’ve probably woken you up for worse.”
“Yeah, like the time you and Jake wanted ramen at 3am and wouldn’t stop calling me because both of you got a little too high.”
“Can you blame us?! You were like, two blocks away.”
“Yeah, but did you need to eat with me?”
“Duh. You’re like, the best person to eat a late night dinner with.”
The two of you laugh as he leads you to the group. You see Sunghoon slumped over the table with his head in his arms and the rest of your friend group tries really hard not to seem too excited when they see you standing next to Jay.
“Fucking finally.” Heeseung stands and gives you a quick side hug before Jake does the same. “Love you guys and all but he started to become unbearable when he kept showing us photos of you.”
Jake snorts. “Poor guy was almost about to cry.” That makes your heart soft.
“He looks so cute,” you coo, tilting your head to savor this moment. It’s abnormal for you to be the sober one but you’re starting to understand why Sunghoon doesn’t mind taking care of you when you’re like this.
Jay comes to stand next to you. “He’s not cute when he drank half his weight in alcohol and wouldn’t shut up about how pretty your hair is.”
“What, do you don’t think my hair’s pretty?” The messy, unbrushed hair is enough to make the guys laugh.
“Nah seriously, thanks for coming,” says Jake. “We felt bad calling you but he refuses to get out of his seat.”
“It’s fine.” You wave him off and step closer to your boyfriend, who still hasn’t moved from his position.
“Do your thing and we’ll be here if you need help bringing him to the car.” Heeseung smiles gratefully at you.
Even the back of Sunghoon’s head is unfairly gorgeous. His hair always looks nice, although you credit that to his younger sister introducing him to a world of hair care products during his skating years. It feels soft to the touch as you stroke the back of his head until Sunghoon slowly comes to. You feel his body start to stir.
“Baby,” you say quietly, bending down until you’re next to him. “Wake up for me.”
“Hm?” Sunghoon mumbles from his arms. He feels the sensation of your fingers carding through his hair and pulls himself from the table, wiping the spit from the corner of his mouth before realizing you’re standing next to him. “Y/N?”
“I’m right here.”
He pulls his head up until he’s sitting upright in the booth, squinting up at you to adjust to the bar lights that disappeared when he closed his eyes. Your boyfriend looks so innocent like this. He looks at you with a wide, round gaze as if you’d appeared out of thin air and he’s trying his hardest to figure out how you’re standing in front of him.
“Is it really you?” Sunghoon asks in a quiet voice. His tone makes your heart flutter and you reach your arms out until you’re cupping his jaw and rubbing the pads of your thumbs over his cheeks. Sunghoon melts into your touch and you feel his body start to relax. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too, bug. Did you have fun tonight?”
He nods in your hands, “Mhm. Just tired now.”
“Jay said you were asking for me.”
“I always ask for you.” Your cheeks heat up and you try to ignore the snickers from behind you.
“Why don’t we go back to my place, yeah? You can sleep in my bed instead of this bar.”
“Can we? I love the guys but I just missed you.”
“Simp,” Heeseung whispers before coughing into his fist.
Sunghoon stands from the booth once you’ve taken a step back to give him the space to move. He’s surprisingly able to stand on his own and clutches onto his jacket as he makes his way to the door.
“Sorry guys,” he mutters to the guys.
“Yah, it’s fine,” Jay says as he waves Sunghoon off.
“Get home safe,” Heeseung says as he opens the door for the two of you. Sunghoon waves behind him until you guide him to the car.
“Can you put your jacket on for me?” You catch it in your hands after he nearly let them fall from his grasp.
“Shit, sorry.” You watch Sunghoon put on one arm and then the other. He looks so childlike in this moment as he concentrates his hardest to put the jacket on without stumbling.
It reminds you that he doesn’t show you this side of him often. Sunghoon, ever the poised individual who likes to know what’s ahead of him, has let his inhibitions down. Seeing his figure slowly push his body through the warm fabric has you biting back a smile.
“Need help?”
Sunghoon looks down at his hands that are trying to zip his jacket up to no avail. He feels like his hands are too big and the zipper is too small. “Please.”
Your steady fingers cover Sunghoon’s and take over the tedious task. The metal is warm from his fingertips. You can feel him looking down at you and you temporarily fumble with the zipper, which makes him laugh.
“Silly,” he mutters. “Ah, fuck. I don’t know if I can open the door.”
You roll your eyes and open it for him. “You’re funny.”
He slides into the seat as gracefully as he can without hitting his head on the roof. Sunghoon struggles, but manages to buckle himself in and grins up at you when he hears the click of the buckle. When you look down on him, the lamp post from above casts a soft glow on his face. He looks so youthful at this moment. Sunghoon has let go of his thoughts and couldn’t think about anything but the present moment even if he tried.
He waits for you and mumbles about how cold it is when you turn the engine on. The warm air starts to uplift his spirits and he looks at you with us head pressed to the headrest.
“I’m sorry you have to see me like this.”
“What?” you ask. “Why?”
He shrugs. “Dunno. Usually I’m the one taking care of you.”
“You don’t always have to be brave, you know.”
Sunghoon doesn’t say anything. He reaches out to envelope your hand in his and squeezes it until he’s holding it loosely in the quiet of the evening.
“I love you.”
Your heart blooms. “I love you right back.” He seems satisfied with your response and lets go of your hand so that you can drive back to your apartment.
When you park on the curb, Sunghoon’s sober enough to unbuckle his seatbelt and wait for you to turn the engine off before opening his door carefully. He steps outside and leans back on the car door until you walk around the hood of the vehicle and grabs your hands to pull you into him.
You feel his lips on your before you register what’s happening. He tastes faintly of pineapple soju and beer, and his mouth is warm. Despite his inebriated state, Sunghoon’s able to hold you between his hands as he moves to place them on your hips to balance your body after you’ve stumbled into him.
The kiss itself is slow. In fact, it feels as though Sunghoon has slowed time around so that the two of you could enjoy the late night kiss uninterrupted. You can barely hear anything besides the ringing in your ears after being caught by surprise due to your boyfriend’s abrupt movements. Your mouths move in slow tandem and Sunghoon nearly pushes his tongue inside your mouth before pulling away to rest his forehead against your own.
“My baby,” he whispers against your lips before giving you another quick peck.
“You are so cute.” You blurt out this confession like you’re still pining after him. “Let’s go inside, yeah?”
The apartment is warm compared to the environment outside and Sunghoon slips off his shoes in favor of wearing his designated slippers. He doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time he does so, letting you pull him into the hallway until the two of you reach your bedroom. The hardwood floors feel better than the uneven pavement from outside.
He loves it here. It’s a sanctuary away from his apartment with the friends he will probably invite to his wedding. But something about your green comforter and hand-painted artwork adorning your walls makes Sunghoon feel like he would live by your side for the rest of his life. The scent of your room–warm peaches and vanilla–tugs at his heart strings. This is where he belongs.
Likewise, you love seeing Sunghoon behave like this. It’s not commonplace for him to let people take care of him in the way you are now. He’s used to people looking out for his career and best interest but he struggles with allowing others to handle him with such care. After a decade of enduring harsh criticism and physical endurance, Sunghoon struggles to relax and allow others to take the reins. It’s partially why he loves taking care of you. Being able to provide that kind of love and support makes him feel wanted and needed, even if you tell him he’s more than enough a thousand times over.
You leave him in your room to change his clothes taken from his designated drawer while you prepare skincare and the works. You hear him shuffle outside and fall onto the bed once, prompting you to hold your laughter in as you wash your hands and pull out hair clips for him to use.
“I can’t lie,” Sunghoon says as you emerge from the bathroom to see him in a big t-shirt and pajama bottoms, “I’m really looking forward to you doing my skincare.”
You snicker and pull your desk chair into the bathroom. “Now you know exactly how I feel every time I beg you to do mine when I’m drunk. Sit and close your eyes, please.”
He follows your instructions and leans his back against the furniture. Sunghoon doesn’t fuss when you pin his hair back until it’s secure and allows you to make him feel pampered in a way he typically wouldn’t.
“Did you have fun tonight?”
Sunghoon hums. “Yeah, I did. The guys picked me up from my place and we had lunch at that seafood spot we’ve been meaning to try.”
“Was it any good?”
“So good.” He licks his lips. “God, I’m still thinking about that shellfish soup. We ordered enough food to feed a village but it was so worth it. I wanna go with you.”
“We can go wherever you want.” He smiles at your soft tone.
“We also went to the beach and met some guys at the skate park by the highway. They were pretty nice and let us use their boards for a little. Heeseung got along with them the best, I think.”
“Heeseung makes friends with everybody.”
“He says he’s not social but that’s a lie.” Sunghoon twitches his nose when he feels a damp washcloth on his face. “We went to the bar afterwards and split it by round. I got the first and honestly, I don’t remember much after that.”
“How are you feeling now, though?” you ask as you finish patting his skin dry. “Do you still feel dizzy?” Sunghoon opens his eyes and watches you apply a serum before dabbing it all over his face.
“Not as much as before. I think I’m just tired.”
“And clingy, apparently.”
Sunghoon smacks the back of your thighs. “Shut up. You love it.” You silence him by kissing his nose.
While he brushes his teeth, you situate yourself underneath your plush covers and allow the weight of the blanket to fall on top of you. The sweet promise of a good night’s rest feels imminent, especially when you see your boyfriend emerge from the bathroom. He turns off the light and walks towards the empty side of the bed before he’s slipping himself beside you.
Sunghoon’s an equal opportunist when it comes to sleeping positions. He loves it the most when your head is on his chest and when your arms are tangled in one another because he likes knowing that the two of you yearn for each other equally. But when he gets like this, Sunghoon takes initiative to maneuver himself until half of his chest and head are on top of you. He situates his arm around your waist and pulls himself closer to your body until a deep, satisfied sigh comes from the back of his throat.
He hums in appreciation when your fingers begin to massage his scalp. Sunghoon’s hair is soft and silky and on most days, you’re the only person who gets to touch it. The slowness of your movements paired with the soft kiss you place on his temple makes his eyelids feel heavy.
“Sorry you had to come pick me up,” Sunghoon mumbles against you. “I know we agreed to give each other some space this weekend.”
“You should know by now that I’d do anything for you.” He feels you kiss the crown of his head. “Plus, we both know you’d do the same for me.”
Sunghoon nods. “I would. You’re my girlfriend. Duh.” His sleepy nonsense makes you laugh.
“You can go back to hanging out with the guys tomorrow if you want.” He shakes his head.
“I want to get breakfast with you.” Sunghoon finds your free hand and presses a sleepy kiss to the back of it.
“Whatever you want. We can get breakfast.”
“If we wake up early enough.”
You laugh again. “Yes, if we wake up early enough.”
Sunghoon mumbles a few incoherent words that you can’t quite make out because of your own tiredness. When your own eyes start to droop, Sunghoon feels your fingers start to falter and looks up at you to see you’ve fallen fast asleep.
He kisses the underside of your chin and falls asleep too.
***
comments and reblogs are appreciated! x
#enhypen x reader#sunghoon x reader#park sunghoon x reader#kpop x reader#enha x reader#enhypen imagines#sunghoon imagines#park sunghoon imagines#sunghoon fluff#sunghoon#my writing*
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ꣀ꣒ ASKING ENHYPEN — HOW MANY KIDS THEY WANT? . . 엔하이펜 ☁︎
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pairing, enhypen × afab reader . . . genre, scenario(s), fluff, reactions . . . word count, 190-240 each . . . [LIBRARY]
. , LEE HEESEUNG ☁︎ 이희승 !
“Hee,” you called quietly, sipping on your hot chocolate while the warmth permeated the serene void between you. You leaned against the armrest and kept watching Heeseung as he scrolled through social media to the sound of his almost inaudible humming amidst the stillness of the room. “You never told me how many kids you want,” you said as if you really were trying to find out.
Heeseung paused for a moment before a slow smile spread over his face, his eyes wide and animated as he put his phone down. It was clear that he had been waiting for this question. “Three. Definitely,” he said, nodding with the kind of certainty one might expect after years of pondering. You arched your brow, trying not to laugh. “But then what's it going to be like when you have three mini Heeseungs running wild? A nightmare,” you stated, looking at him impassively.
His eyes widened, and he shot you a mock parody glare that could only be described as mild offense. “What did you just say?” He said, leaning in closer and speaking as though utterly astonished. You just couldn't help it anymore: a laugh escaped you in the form of a chesty giggle, and you leaned back, confiding in your hot chocolate for salvation. “I'm just kidding!” you squeaked through the giggles.
. , PARK JONGSEONG ☁︎ 박종성 !
“Baby, how many kids do you want?” you asked, slipping your arms around Jay’s waist from behind, your chin resting on his shoulder as he stirred the steaming pot of noodles on the stove. “Did my cooking skills impress you that much?” he teased, glancing at you with a smirk. His free hand reached down to pat yours, resting comfortably on his stomach.
You laughed softly. “Maybe,” you admitted, your voice warm with affection. “But I’m serious. How many kids do you want?” Jay paused, the sound of bubbling noodles filling the momentary silence. His gaze grew thoughtful as he tilted his head slightly. “Two,” he said confidently, his tone steady. “It’d be nice to have one of each—a boy and a girl. Balance, you know?”
You grinned, nuzzling closer. “What if they’re both boys? Or both girls?” you pressed, curious to hear his answer. Jay hummed, as if mulling it over, before turning off the stove and setting the spoon down. He spun around in your arms to face you, his expression playful yet soft. “Honestly?” he said, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “As long as they’re healthy, I couldn’t care less. But if they’re both boys…” He paused, raising an eyebrow. “Double trouble.”
You giggled, swatting his chest lightly. “And if they’re both girls?” He grinned, pulling you closer. “Guess I’ll just be outnumbered, won’t I?”
. , SIM JAEYUN ☁︎ 심재윤 !
“How many kids do you want?” you asked, casually breaking the silence while the two of you sat tangled on the couch, the light of the television casting shadows. His gaze dropped unstably from the screen to you, amusement winking in constricted lines across his brow of confusion. “We already have one: Layla,” he declared, pointing to the dog stretched across his lap, her head comfortably laid on his thigh.
Rolling your eyes, you let out a huff. “Jake. I meant a human baby,” you explained, resting your chin on his shoulder to gauge his expression. He hesitated in thought, his fingers mindlessly playing with Layla's ear. “One is enough,” he said offhandedly between mouthfuls of popcorn, as though deciding the fate of your entire future after that bite.
For a moment, you grinned in mock disbelief. “One? Just like that? What if I want two?” He just turned to you, slipping into a devilish smile. “One is a smart number. Two? Think of the double the mess and double the drama. One? We can keep ‘em outnumbered,” he explained in a teasing tone, though his eyes sparkled with affection.
. , PARK SUNGHOON ☁︎ 박성훈 !
“Hey Hoon,” you said rather casually, tracing invisible patterns on the couch while leaning against him. “In the future when we have kids...would you want a boy or a girl?”
Sunghoon felt his face flush immediately; it was as if he had not expected you to ask the question. He nervously cleared his throat and shifted a little. “Is this a test?” he asked in a higher-than-usual voice. You could see the moment of hesitation that was thinking there could be something to it-a faint worry on the face of being caught in trickery, because he knew you would ask many innocent questions previously that often spiraled into an argument.
You shook your head, smiling and trying to play it light. “Don't worry, I'm just curious.” He paused for a second, biting his lip, returned his gaze to you, carefully considering his answer. “A girl...?” he murmured, a slight tremble in his voice. There was something very sweet about him being shy; you liked it. “A girl, huh? Well, I like that. Sometimes I think I'd like to ask you a real question: how many kids do you want?”
This caught Sunghoon off guard again because of your sudden shift; he blinked at this. He took a second, his face still a little flushed as he whispered slowly, “Umm... probably... one...?” you blinked, trying not to laugh at how serious he was about it. “Just one? You aren't even considering the option of having a second or a third in the future?” He shrugged, his expression softening as he leaned closer. “One should suffice for me, especially if it is a girl."
. , KIM SUNOO ☁︎ 김수누 !
“Babe...” you started, your voice soft with a hint of nervousness as you gazed at Sunoo, who was casually sipping his water. You felt a flutter in your chest, wondering how he'd respond. “How many kids do you want in the future?” Sunoo didn’t even hesitate. His eyes twinkled as he smiled at you, the corners of his lips lifting in that signature grin that always made your heart skip. With a playful sparkle in his eyes, he held up three fingers, still holding his bottle of water, clearly not bothered by the question at all.
You raised an eyebrow, amused by how easily he had the answer ready. “Three?” you repeated, trying to hide your smile. It was clear he’d thought about this a lot, and you couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly he was embracing the idea of the future with you. “Yep, three,” he confirmed, his grin widening as he swallowed the water. He set the bottle down and nudged your shoulder, leaning in closer. “You know, one for you, one for me, and one for us. Perfect team.”
Your heart melted at his words, and you leaned into him, feeling a warmth spread through you. Sunoo was everything you could ever want, and the thought of a future with him felt like a dream come true.
. , YANG JUNGWON ☁︎ 양정원 !
Jungwon wasn’t surprised by your random question—it was just another one of those things you did. As you straddled his lap on the couch, your fingers brushing through his hair, you asked casually, “How many kids do you want?” He paused, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile before planting a quick peck on your lips. “One,” he muttered against your mouth, as if it was the most natural answer.
You blinked, taken aback. “That’s it?” you asked, genuinely curious. You expected something a little more ambitious, but there he was, casually dropping his answer like it was no big deal. Jungwon stifled a chuckle, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Why?” he asked, genuinely curious at your reaction. You puffed out your cheeks in mock frustration. “Why not more? I mean, we’re both working, we can afford it,” you reasoned, trying to make your case.
He nodded, a soft smile still playing at the corners of his lips. “True,” he agreed. “But... the living costs, you know?” You opened your mouth to argue, but before you could get the words out, he pulled you closer, his hands gently resting on your hips. “One is still enough, sweetie,” he whispered, his tone light but affectionate. The sincerity in his eyes melted your protest away. “Fine,” you muttered, resting your forehead against his. “I guess one sounds perfect with you.”
. , NISHIMURA RIKI ☁︎ 리키 !
“Riki, how many kids do you want to have?” you asked casually, mushing against his chest, your arms lazily around his neck in your usual cuddle contentment. His hands are frozen. Random shapes traced on your back now are interrupted mid-motion. Before you could think, he switched positions: he flipped you onto your back and pinned you beneath him in one smooth shift.
“What are you doing?” you squeaked, heart thumping as his dark eyes watched yours. That was when he came closer, softly brushing a stray strand of hair from your face with a teasing smirk that left your stomach feeling some weird emotion. “We just became adults and you are already talking about babies?” he tormented in low teasing tones, the corners of his mouth twitching to stop a laughter. “You're bold, you know that.”
You opened and moved to argue, but he lowered his mouth and pressed a soft, deliberate kiss against your lips. Not to shut you up—this was the kind of kiss that turned your thoughts into mush and spread bright warmth across your cheeks. He pulled away just enough to talk, lips pressed close to yours, and whispered, “Why have kids when we can have fun?”
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#𝒮ena’s 𝒲orks ☁︎#enhypen reactions#enhypen fluff#enhypen × reader#enhypen scenarios#enhypen headcanons#enhypen smut#enhypen x you#enhypen#enhypen hard hours#enhypen imagines#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen x female reader#enhypen jungwon#jungwon fluff#yang jungwon#park jongseong#jake fluff#enhypen smau#enhypen angst#enhypen hyung line#enhypen maknae line#enhypen heeseung#enhypen au#kpop scenarios#kpop smut#kpop imagines#kpop angst#kpop reactions#kpop soft hours
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hello!
Could you maybe do poly!marauders x reader and the boys discovering she has a major praise kink!
It doesn’t have to be smutty or it can be whatever you think!!
(ps: you are such an amazing author and the way you write the marauders together and their personalities is impeccable 💋)
This was fun and funny, thanks for requesting!
cw: praise kink, suggestive ending (no smut)
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words
Remus makes a soft hissing sound. “Is that how you always chop onions?”
You look at him sideways. “With a knife? Yes.”
“Don’t be cheeky,” he says, smiling. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
You look down at your cutting board, still chopping but now bemused. “I don’t plan on it.”
James, who’s appeared over your shoulder, makes a similar sound, hissing through his teeth. “No, sweetheart.” He places his hand over yours on the handle of the knife, silently prompting you to stop. “Rem’s right, you’re going to lose the tips of your fingers.”
You feel a tad defensive of your chopping skills. “I’ve managed to keep them all ‘til now. What am I doing wrong?”
“Here, let me.” James eases the knife from your grip, squishing in alongside you in front of the cutting board and taking your onion. “See, you want to curl your fingers in a tiny bit so the knife skims off them. Like a claw.”
You lean over, peering at his hand. “It looks hard to keep a grip like that.”
“It takes a bit of practice,” he allows. James slices through the onion a few times with smooth, easy motions, then passes the knife back to you. “Give it a try.”
You try to hold the onion the way he had, looking at James for approval. He taps your pinkie finger, getting you to curl that one a bit more, before smiling at you.
“There you go. That’s good, now try cutting down your knuckles.”
“This feels scarier than my way,” you admit, though you do as he says, skimming the knife down your knuckles and slicing through the onion slowly.
“No, you’ve got it,” James praises. “That’s really good, angel. You’re a natural.”
Your cheeks are starting to warm from all the compliments. “Thanks,” you say in a small voice.
“Don’t go getting shy,” says Sirius, coming in to steal a dry pasta noodle from Remus. He bites down on it with a crack that makes James grimace. “You were so vocal about how you knew the proper way a minute ago.”
“I still like my way better,” you say, recovering some.
“Right, well do it this way for our peace of mind, would you?” James’ hand warms the small of your back as he watches you work. “You have very pretty fingers, and I don’t think I’m being too presumptuous in saying that we all like them too much to risk it. Plus, you’ve picked it up so quickly.”
The heat from your face spreads lower. It’s all you can do to squeak out a meek “okay.” You’re grateful when James leaves to return to his own task.
A minute later, Remus comes over to check that you’re doing what you’re supposed to. He hums approvingly. “Good girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hair. All the air in your lungs dries up. “Thank you, darling. That looks great.”
“She learned from the best,” James quips.
Remus hums and kisses his hair too before turning back to his work. It’s only a handful of seconds before they realize you’ve not replied.
“Dove?” Remus looks at you.
“Hm?” you hum tightly.
“You alright?”
“Mhm.”
James and Sirius have turned to look now, too. You keep your face downturned to the cutting board, but you can feel the weight of three curious stares on the back of your head. Sirius prowls over to you like a cat, taking you by the shoulders and turning you slowly.
“Humor me for a moment?” he asks, smirking. “I want to test a theory.”
You’re wound too tightly by this point to respond, his smug teasing pushing you to the edges of sanity. You barely have the wherewithal to set your knife down carefully behind you.
Your boyfriend’s cold hands find your warm face, shit-eating grin only spreading as he takes his time feeling about your cheeks with his knuckles and fingers. Sirius isn’t always the most perceptive of your boyfriends, but unfortunately, humiliatingly, he’s the first to unravel this particular mystery.
He asks smoothly, “Do you like it when we tell you how good you are, pretty girl?”
You’re not sure if he can actually feel the flare of heat to your face at the words, but something about your expression must confirm it. Sirius laughs gleefully.
“Awe, angel.” James comes over to wrap his arms around you from the side, also laughing. “I didn’t know we were winding you up when we talked like that. I was just trying to compliment what a quick learner you are.”
“She is a quick learner,” Sirius says in a salacious tone. “You always follow instructions well, don’t you, gorgeous?”
“Stop,” you plead, covering your face with your hands and forcing Sirius to move his. All three of your boyfriends snicker, James pressing a conciliatory kiss to your burning ear. “It’s not like it happens all the time, you’re just being so much right now. You can’t just call someone—call them—”
“A good girl?” Remus asks you, and you don’t think he’s putting on a tone like Sirius is, you really don’t, but his regular voice is already so nearly pornographic that the heat in your core spreads anyway.
“Right,” you say weakly.
Remus chuckles. “I didn’t mean anything by it, sweetheart. Sorry if I put you in an…uncomfortable position.”
“No, don’t be sorry.” Sirius is giddy, smugness dialed up to eleven. “This is a revelation. Just think what we could do with this. You’ve given us all a gift, babe.”
“Oh, our poor girl,” James laughs when you try to hide your face in his shoulder. “Sirius is right, this is good! It’s always good for us to know what you like, right?”
You’re too flustered to reply, but Remus agrees for you, humming contemplatively.
“You know,” he says, “if I leave this to simmer for a while, we could make it up to you now, dove. I’d feel awful if I wound you up without giving you any payoff.”
His tone implies he’s at least partly joking, but Sirius doesn’t take it that way. He has you all in the bedroom in thirty seconds flat, your chopping left to wait for your return.
#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reader#poly marauders#poly marauders x reader#poly!marauders x fem!reader#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders x self insert#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders fluff#praise k!nk#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders drabble#poly!marauders blurb#poly!marauders oneshot#james potter#james potter x reader#sirius black#sirius black x reader#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#the marauders#marauders era#marauders x reader#hp marauders
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summary: oh, poor drew has to lose his big biceps while filming queer. and oh, poor drew, is victim of his girlfriend's teasing :(
warnings: none, pretty light and fluffy 👌
⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪
You’re lounging on the couch, scrolling idly through your phone, when the sound of a key turning in the lock catches your attention. Glancing up, you see Drew walk through the door, looking a bit slimmer but still smiling in that warm way that lights up his whole face. He came home only for a few days, and you still couldn't get over the fact that they didn't gave you a small copy of your boyfriend, it was actually Drew. Even if you were there in his whole process of weight losing, it felt weird.
You missed those pretty big things so much it was painful.
He’s wearing a loose T-shirt and faded jeans, his hair tousled from a long day on set, and something about him seems softer around the edges—almost like he’s let his guard down after weeks of intense filming.
You sit up, an exaggerated frown on your face. “Oh, no way.” Your tone is teasing, but you can’t resist it as you give him a once-over. “What happened to those big, strong biceps of yours, Starkey? Am I seeing things, or did you trade them in for some noodles?”
Drew raises an eyebrow, pausing mid-step as he gives you a look of mock offense. “Noodles? Seriously?”
You grin and shrug, crossing your arms. “I don’t know, babe. They’re looking a little… deflated.” You stretch out an arm, giving his bicep a playful poke as he comes closer. “Am I supposed to start lifting the groceries now?”
Drew lets out a chuckle and drops his bag on the floor before plopping down on the couch next to you. “I’ll have you know that my ‘noodle arms’ still work just fine,” he says, feigning indignation as he flexes, the bicep muscle tightening under his sleeve even if it’s smaller than you’re used to. “Had to lose some weight for Queer, remember? Luca didn’t want me looking like some action hero on this.”
You put on a look of exaggerated sympathy, patting his shoulder. “Aww, poor noodle-armed Drew. Must be so hard, not being the Hulk for once.”
He scoffs, but you can see the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re really not gonna let this go, are you?”
“Oh, no way,” you tease, leaning in and poking his arm again. “If you lose even one more ounce of muscle, I’m buying out the protein aisle and bringing it to set.” You pretend to squeeze his arm, making a show of struggling as if it’s the weakest thing in the world. “Seriously, who’s gonna protect me now? Or open all the jars?”
Drew smirks, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Is that right?” he murmurs, leaning closer, his tone a playful challenge.
In one quick motion, he wraps an arm around your waist and effortlessly pulls you onto his lap, his fingers tightening around your hips as you let out a small squeal of surprise, laughing. “See? Noodles or not, I think I can still handle you just fine,” he says, a smug grin on his face as he holds you close.
You try to keep a straight face but can’t help the smile that’s tugging at your lips. “Hmm,” you say, tilting your head as if contemplating. “Maybe you’ve still got a little strength left in you. But I’m gonna keep a close watch. Just in case.”
Drew raises an eyebrow, feigning exasperation. “Oh, great. A personal bicep inspector. Exactly what I needed.”
You laugh, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. “Someone has to make sure you stay up to code, Starkey. You’re still my big, strong boyfriend, right? Don’t want anyone thinking I’m dating some scrawny little noodle boy.”
He lets out a laugh, his arm still firmly around you as his hand traces slow, comforting circles along your back. “Would it make you feel better if I promised to go back to the gym as soon as filming’s done? Maybe even lift double just to prove I’m still ‘your big, strong boyfriend’?”
“Maybe,” you say, narrowing your eyes with a smile. “But in the meantime, don’t be surprised if I start calling you ‘spaghetti arms.’”
Drew groans, dramatically rolling his eyes, but he’s laughing too, unable to keep a straight face. “Fine, fine, make fun of me all you want. Just remember who’s still carrying you around all day if he has to.” With that, he shifts his grip and effortlessly hoists you up, standing and cradling you against his chest as he walks toward the kitchen.
You burst out laughing, arms looping around his neck. “Oh, okay, maybe there’s still a little muscle left!” you say, gasping between giggles as he gently sets you down on the counter, his hands resting on either side of you.
“Exactly,” he says, leaning in close, his face just inches from yours, his voice softer now, teasing but affectionate. “No matter what, you’re still stuck with me.”
Your laughter fades as you look up at him, a warm smile spreading across your face. “Good,” you whisper, fingers gently brushing his cheek. “Because I wouldn’t want anyone else, noodle arms and all.”
Drew’s expression softens, his gaze lingering on yours as he cups your face, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your lips. His hand trails down to your shoulder, pulling you closer until you’re wrapped up in his embrace, your laughter replaced by a comfortable, warm silence.
As he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, he chuckles, fingers idly tracing your arm. “I’ll get my biceps back,” he promises, his voice barely a whisper. “But for now, I guess you’ll just have to deal with ‘scrawny’ me.”
You grin, sliding your hands up his chest. “I’ll manage,” you say softly. “But just know I’m keeping an eye on those biceps. And maybe—just maybe—I’ll even give you a few compliments along the way.”
Drew laughs, kissing you again, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, with no need for words. Because no matter how many muscles he has—or doesn’t—you know there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than right here, with him.
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#drew starkey queer#drew starkey blurb#drew starkey#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey x female reader#drew starkey imagine#drew starkey one shot#drew Starkey concept#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron imagine
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Hiiii hshsh
So I got this idea on a car ride late at night after going to an extremely loud pub!! Which gave me this idea:33
Poly!141 plus reader
None of them know how to cook because they're used to having premade meals at the messhall or rations on missions! so when reader comes along (they can be part of the task force or they can be civilian), and they cook for them the lads decide that they're theirs now!! :3
I love this idea anon 😩😩
You didn’t think much of it at first, truly.
Cooking had always been second nature to you- something soothing, something tangible in a life filled with chaos. And in the military, chaos was the only constant.
It didn’t take long to realize something alarming, though: none of your teammates knew how to cook.
Not even the basics.
Soap, bless his heart, thought instant noodles counted as a proper meal. Gaz once tried to scramble eggs and somehow set off the smoke alarm. Ghost? The man could survive in the wild for weeks but willingly lived off protein bars and black coffee when left to his own devices. And Price could grill, sure, but anything beyond that? No chance. And it wasn’t as if a grill was always available.
So, you cooked.
Not because they asked. Not because you had to, or were made to feel like you had to. But because the first time you made something decent- just a simple stew, hearty and warm, after a grueling training session- they all looked at you like you had hung the damn moon itself.
Soap groaned after his first bite, tipping his head back in dramatic bliss. “Marry me.”
Gaz, already going for seconds, nodded solemnly. “Seconded. You can’t just cook like this and expect us to let you go.”
Ghost didn’t say anything outright, but the way he cleaned his bowl and then, after a pause, slid it forward for more? Yeah. That spoke volumes.
Price took his time eating, but you caught the way his gaze softened as he watched you. Like he was making a decision.
You didn’t realize what that decision was until the next morning.
You woke up to find all four of them stationed in the kitchen, waiting. Gaz leaned against the fridge, Soap sat on the counter, Ghost loomed in the doorway, and Price stood at the stove like he had any idea what to do with it.
“What,” you mumbled, still groggy. “Are you all doing?”
Price met your eyes, calm and sure. “Waiting on breakfast. If you do wanna make it, that is.”
And that was that.
You should’ve known. Feeding a group of hungry, half-feral soldiers meant claiming them.
And, apparently, it meant they claimed you too.
The first time you all came back from a mission completely wrecked, it happened without thought.
Everyone was exhausted- cut up, bruised, dragging themselves through debrief with only the promise of a hard-earned shower keeping them upright.
You were just as battered. Just as drained. But the moment you stepped into the barracks and saw the half-hearted collection of protein bars and tasteless ration packs sitting on the counter, something inside you rebelled and cracked.
No. Not tonight.
Your body screamed for rest, but you ignored it, rolling up your sleeves and getting to work. It’ll be worth it, you kept telling yourself, and the promise of an actual meal kept you going.
You weren’t alone for long, thougg.
Kyle trudged into the kitchen first, watching with quiet amazement as you moved. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”
“I know.” you murmured, but kept going. A warm, fresh meal…
Soap dragged himself in next, blinking at you blearily before rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re an angel, bonnie. A bloody angel.”
Ghost leaned against the doorframe when he came a little later, watching. He didn’t say a word, but when you swayed slightly from exhaustion, he moved- one steady hand pressing against the small of your back, grounding you. He didn’t tell you to stop, or get in your way- just stayed by you, a steady, comforting presence.
Also helped chop the vegetables when you asked.
John didn’t say anything either. But he sat at the table, waiting patiently, eyes tracking every movement like he was memorizing you.
By the time you put the food down- something warm, filling, real- they were too tired to talk, but their gratitude was written in every movement and shone through every appreciative sigh they let out
Soap sighed into his bowl like it was the only thing keeping him alive. “If I die tonight, at least I die happy.”
Gaz nudged your foot under the table, a quiet thank you.
Ghost, ever quiet, simply refilled your plate before his own.
And Price met your eyes across the table, something unreadable yet warm in his expression, before nodding once. “Good work, soldier.”
The second time, it was worse.
The mission had gone sideways, backwards, and right into hell.
It had been long, brutal, pushing all of you to the breaking point. When you finally stepped back onto base, none of you were unscathed- Soap’s knuckles were split, Gaz’s jaw was bruised, Ghost had a gash along his ribs, and Price carried exhaustion like it was part of him.
And you? You were running purely on fumes.
But the moment you made it back to your quarters and saw the way they all moved- silent, weighed down by the kind of tired that settled in your bones- you knew.
Without thinking, you made your way to the kitchen.
Soap’s voice, hoarse with fatigue, followed you. “You don’t have to, lass. You gotta rest-“
“I know.” You croaked out. And you still did it anyways.
The stew took time. Slow, steady, the scent filling the air like something solid. Something safe. It gave you enough time to lay your head down just a little, eyes slipping shut just long enough for you not to pass out.
They didn’t argue.
They didn’t tell you to sit down, to rest, to stop.
Instead, they hovered- Soap setting the table, Gaz nudging a chair toward you every time you leaned too hard against the counter, Ghost watching you in that way he did when words weren’t enough.
Price stood beside you near the stove, his hand brushing your shoulder in quiet appreciation.
And when you finally sat down, they made sure you ate first; Soap nudged the biggest portion toward you. Gaz made sure your glass was full. Price made sure you didn’t lift a finger once the meal was done.
Ghost was the last to move, reaching over to take your wrist, squeezing once. A quiet thank you in the way only he could say it.
That night, none of them let you leave, either.Soap pulled you down onto the couch between him and Ghost, resting his head against yours with a tired sigh, and Simon pulled your legs to rest on top of his thighs.
Gaz, already half-asleep with his back rest against the couch, muttered.” You’re stuck with us now, you know.”
And Price draped a blanket over your shoulders, the weight of it solid and grounding. He patted your head, then his hand slid down to squeeze your shoulder while your eyes slipped shut, drifting off into a much-needed sleep. “That’s how it works.”
#noona.asks#noona.writes#cod x reader#cod x you#cod#tf 141 x reader#tf 141 x you#tf 141#cod imagines#poly!141 x you#poly 141 x you#poly!141 x reader#poly!141#poly 141 x reader#poly 141#i love you anon this idea is perfect
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Okay this is going to drive me INSANE. D:>
Dearly beloved, Phandom darlings...
Can DANNY EAT VIDEO GAME/TV FOOD?
I... I NEED to know. You don't UNDERSTAND!? Think about it. No, seriously. THINK about all those HIGHLY unrealistic, too good to be true, PERFECT looking meals. Animated shows n games etc where there are chefs who will "cook for Anybody!"
Now think about being 14 going 20. A teenager. A broke college student. Your fridge is empty and everything you touch? Comes back to LIFE. You're... you're just so hungry. Tired. Your bruises have bruises and you have a paper due tomorrow.
I kinda want to CRY.
Can only eat cup ramen so many times before you DO.
And this show? That commercial? Yonder cooking game?? Well... they did a REAL good job animating it. It looks so WARM. So FILLING and COMFORTING. You can practically SMELL it.
You look down at your sad, soggy, cheap but you can afford it, EZ Noodles and? Feel something BREAK inside. You... you KNOW you can travel inside technology. KNOW this. Have done it before. Why... why AREN'T you? You can't keep living like this.
You gotta TRY, right?
I? Wanna believe it TOTALLY works?? Because Ectoplasm is weird like that? And just shrugs? Says "actual food, the concept of food backed by electricity, what's the difference? Sure, we can fuck with this"? And so Danny? IMMEDIATELY fucking switches his diet.
Like? Dead stop screech, slam on the breaks, u-turn to take that last off-ramp. Type IMMEDIATE.
Grocery bill? No, no, you mistake him! No. NOW it's his "carefully researched for their cooking, games and shows" bill. Touch his collection and he'll FUCKING BITE.
They got sticky notes on the cases. Menus n lil fold out "grocery store" locations. He punched a dragon for this fruit. Mmmmm, home cooked meeeeeals~
Just? Weird Foodie Danny. Yes he DOES know what those steaks taste like. While YOU fuckers were staring at the cat girls bizangas, HE was eating granny cat lady's home made meatball stew! Ha! YOU FOOLS!
More then that? I want him to write reviews. Like "yeah, fight system was OKAY but- *5 hour glowing rant about the food, sounding like a food critic who'd actually fucking gone and loved it* " and people are like?? Who? Is this funky lil madman? This is hilarious?
I want it to be DPxDC JUST? So everyone slowly starts to play the game "Meta or Shtick?" Because no one REALLY knows who he is. This dude gets POPULAR though. For some reason can't be hacked (shame on you guys! Way to try and ruin the FUN!). And like? Eventually? Someone just fucking ASKS?
And Danny is like... " wouldn't YOU like to know, weatherboy?"
So everyone is like:
"Meta."
But hey... since they're already ASSUMING~? >:3c WHOOOOO wants to help him PAY RENT~? Let's VLOG this fucker! Wooooo! Say "hi" Catchef! *feline noises* like? It's like a let's play combined with a mukbang.
Teen Heros everywhere are FACINATED. Game developers are suddenly like? "If there's food. You BETTER make it look amazing. We want that weird YouTube twink to... whatever his powers are, our game! Free viral marketing!" Food channels? Rending their clothes, on their KNEES, please! PLEASE! Just ANSWER OUR EMAIL! Just ONE SHOW! A one off! Guest appearance!
We have MONEY!!!
All while Danny? Is finally happy with his life. Weird as hell. Harrasing the world. Good food on the regular. Gets to travel, kinda. Best of all? He's raising money from it! Can help people! Now... who wants salad?
@babbling-babull @hdgnj @hypewinter @legitimatesatanspawn @spidori @dcxdpdabbles @the-witchhunter @lolottes
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where we left off. (hinata shoyo x reader)
summary: “you confess because you think you will never see him again, so it doesn’t matter ” - for my valentine’s day event - theme: confessions
word count: 1981
tags: @nishayuro @kitas-tapioca @kakashineedstotouchgrass s @amisuh @avis-writeshq @samanthaa-leanne @akaashi-todorki @sp1ng @kur0obaby @bleach-your-panties
event masterlist
There is a light in Shoyo that just won’t dim. Not that you want it to. It’s your favorite thing about him.
There are ten million reasons to like Shoyo (though Tsukishima would disagree and say he can barely find one. He’s lying. No one can dislike Shoyo. It’s not possible). But you like him for the simple reason that he is the best person you have ever met. He is dedicated and kind, loyal and friendly. You have known him since your first year in high school, and you have seen him face every adversity that comes his way with full confidence and optimism.
It’s no wonder you’re hopelessly in love with him. How could you not be? Shoyo entered your life and made everything ten times brighter and easier to deal with. From day one, he was your confidant and your cheerleader. In all those three years, Shoyo stood by you like you stood by him. You had grown by leaps and bounds with him as your friend.
Friend.
The sun was low in the sky, spreading a warm orange light over the clouds as it set. The color reminds you of Shoyo’s hair, and you have to curse yourself. It seems you can never stop thinking about him, and the world is adamant on making sure you didn’t even try to. You sigh and lean back on the bench you were seated on, closing your eyes and mentally preparing yourself for what was coming.
High school graduation had come and gone. Tomorrow, Shoyo will leave for Brazil. For two years minimum. And who knows? He says he will return, but there is a very real chance he won’t. An up-and-coming volleyball player like him, he could be snatched up by a local club. Or he could fall in love with beach volleyball and continue living there so he could keep playing it.
Two years is a long time for a person to change. You can change. He can change. You can’t trust yourself to leave this until then. Now, before Shoyo leaves, you will confess to him all of your closely guarded feelings. Before he potentially leaves your life for good, he has to know that he is the reason you are where you have gotten.
Heavy footsteps slowly fade in, making you turn your head to follow the sound. You spot Shoyo barreling down the sidewalk towards you, skidding to an abrupt halt when he reaches your bench. He takes a few deep breaths before grinning wide, and just the sight of his million watt smile has your own lips tugging up to return the gesture.
“Ready for dinner?”
Homey, comforting ramen is Shoyo’s choice of last meal in Japan. You both trudge into his usual ramen place, one that he loved to frequent often after practice. He talks your ear off all the way there, telling you about his day. He had been getting his affairs in order, saying goodbye to all the important people and packing up some last minute stuff. You let him catch you up to every tiny detail, (He is like that. He doesn’t like leaving anything out) and you hum along to his stories.
When steaming bowls of ramen are set down before you is when Shoyo finally shuts up, instead choosing to immediately wolf it down. You watch him with blatant adoration in your eyes. You know you do, and you don’t bother to hide it. Sharing this one last moment with him, you don’t want to hold back. This might be the last time you can look at him in leisure. So you drink him in the best you can, trying to seal this moment in your memory forever.
“Are you excited for beach volleyball?”
He nods around a mouthful of noodles. “I have just two years to learn it, so I’m a bit nervous. But I can’t wait to start!”
You smile at his usual unending enthusiasm. “You’ll be great, Shoyo. I have never met someone as hardworking as you.”
And there is that smile again, so bright you almost have to squint to withstand it. He was so different from how he was in first year. He had come such a long way in just three years. Imagine how much he would change after two years in a completely foreign country, on the other side of the world.
You can feel your shoulders drop.
After dinner, Shoyo insists on dessert and you both end up getting ice pops. He finishes his before you can even take one bite of your own, and then ends up finishing half of yours as well when you tell him you are full and he can have it. No wonder he has unending stamina. He eats the food of three people. You smile at the thought.
As per routine, Shoyo walks you home afterward. The sun has fully set by this time, and the streetlights periodically illuminate the two of you as you walk along the sidewalk. Your figures cast long, moving shadows on the concrete, and you keep your eyes on them as you walk. Shoyo is humming something under his breath, occasionally breaking the silence to comment on something. You bask in the moment.
When you slow to a stop at your front door, you realise it is finally time to do what you had been psyching yourself up for all this time.
“I have something to say.” You comment. Shoyo blinks and nods, encouraging you to continue. You take a deep breath.
“For the last three years, you’ve been the best person in my life. By a long shot. I can’t believe I met someone like you. You’re always so supportive, Shoyo, and you’ve really helped me be the best version of myself.”
You cringe at your corny statements, but Shoyo’s face has softened. He stays silent. You muscle on.
“I like you. A lot. A lot. And before you leave, I just wanted you to know this.”
Because I may never see you again. You let the last sentence die in your throat.
Shoyo looks down at the ground, fiddling with his hands a bit. You realize you have made him nervous. And no wonder. You just dumped a huge revelation on him the day before he leaves the country.
“You don’t have to say anything!” You add on, as soon as Shoyo opens his mouth to speak, trying to soothe his nerves. “I don’t want you to reciprocate. I just wanted to tell you all this before you left.”
You step forward to wrap him into a hug, feeling him freeze at the gesture. You don’t let yourself linger, pulling away mere seconds later. Shoyo opens and closes his mouth like a fish. You giggle.
“Do your best in Brazil, Shoyo. I’m counting on you.”
And then you pull open the door, shutting it behind yourself with one last smile at his surprised face.
……………………
Tokyo is a big city, and you lose yourself in the hustle and bustle of it.
Miyagi was quiet, peaceful, and you knew more or less everyone there. In contrast, Tokyo is continuously moving, and you have to run to keep up with it. It’s a big change, going from Tokyo to Miyagi, but it is a welcome one. You can feel how you change and blossom along with the city.
Your apartment is small. One bedroom, open kitchen, tiny bathroom. It’s a starter apartment and you are still a student, so it doesn’t matter. Every night, you cook yourself a modest meal and plop yourself down in front of the television, continuing some show you have been watching for the last few days. Afterwards, you have a warm cup of tea and then begin your nightly routine, ready for classes the next day.
Today that routine is disrupted by loud knocking on the door.
You pause your chewing, reaching for the remote to mute the TV. You don’t hear any sound, not even shuffling, but ten seconds later you hear another, longer knock. Sighing, you set your bowl down on the coffee table and throw your blanket off, trudging to the door. When you look through the peephole, all you see is one shoulder. You roll your eyes at the person who chose to not stand in your view.
You undo the lock and pull the door open, immediately freezing on the spot.
He has grown so much taller, and broader. His skin holds a wonderful bronze tan, and his hair is shorter than the last time you saw him. But his smile is the same. Bright and blinding, endlessly welcoming. Your heart skips.
“Hi.” He breathes. His voice is deeper too. A little scratchier. You continue to stare, mouth agape. You cannot believe it, and your brain cannot process it.
“Shoyo…” Your grip on the doorframe tightens. A small silence extends between you two. Shoto shifts a bit.
“Can I come in?” He asks sheepishly.
You abruptly jerk back, nodding vigorously. “Of course! Sorry, sorry. Come in.”
You allow Shoyo to pass through the threshold, toeing his shoes off and stacking them next to your own before looking back at you expectantly. You lead him into the living room, mind racing with a thousand thoughts.
He was back. From Brazil. Taller and tanned and just as bright. And he’s back. You reel with the revelation.
“How have you been?” He asks, seating himself on the couch and looking up at you with a small smile. He seems…. calmer somehow. More present instead of how flighty he used to be. More grounded. You nod a bit.
“I’m- I’ve been good. You?”
“Me too.”
“Okay good.”
Awkward silence stretches between you two. You feel your face heat up.
“I’m going to make tea!” You announce, bustling towards the kitchen before Shoyo can protest, trying not to think about the last conversation you had with him right before he left, over two years ago.
Once you settle before him with two steaming hot cups, the awkward air disperses a bit. You aren’t surprised. It always did with Shoyo. He had a talent like this. You ask him about Brazil and he goes on a whole storytime for it, telling you about the vast beaches and the burning sun. How much he learned and how much he changed.
That part is true, you can tell. Shoyo has changed. But despite all that, you can feel the way your heart skips, the way your palms get clammy. All those old feelings are coming back, and you cannot stop them. As you watch the way Shoyo laughs and reminisces with you, you’re not sure you want to.
A lull hits after Shoyo stops talking, and you watch as he fiddles with his hands a bit before speaking again, his voice lower this time, more serious.
“Can we….. pick up where we left off?” He doesn’t glance up at you, playing with his hands.
You blink at his words, trying to process them. He gives you a crooked smile that lights your nerves on fire.
“You never let me reply that day. And…. I didn’t think I should either, because I was leaving. But now…”
He trails off, you feel your breath catch. Is he implying what you think he is? You try not to get your hopes up, but Shoyo’s next words seal the deal.
“I like you tons.”
You can’t help your breathless laugh at his choice of words. Your skin buzzes. Shoyo scoots closer to you. You let him. His leg brushes against yours and you can feel the way electricity zips through you at the feeling.
“I like you tons too.”
Ten minutes later, when Shoyo drags huge suitcases into your lobby from outside your front door, you realize he came here straight from the airport. And it only makes you love him more.
#hinata shouyou#hinata shoyo x reader#hinata shoyo haikyuu#hinata shoyo x you#hinata shoyo fluff#hinata shoyo fanfiction#hq x reader#haikyuu x reader#hq fluff#hinata shōyō
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Midnight Snack Mystery (Simon 'Ghost' Fic) Part 1
Wife! Reader Pregnant! Reader Hungry! Reader Possessive! Ghost Possessive! Simon 'Ghost' Riley Possessive! Simon Ghost Riley Good Cook! Simon Ghost Riley Husband! Simon 'Ghost' Riley Hungry Wife! Reader. By this time he is already Captain or Major! or Lieutenant Col! Simon 'Ghost' Riley
Part 2, Part 3
Long, not so-long, but light hearted read. Warning: Don't read when hungry!! Summary: Pregnant with Simon's child, Y/N experiences intense late-night cravings. Her overprotective husband, Simon, keeps a close eye on her, ensuring she’s well taken care of. However, Y/N discovers a late-night noodle shop that serves her favorite foods—dumplings and noodles—and she can’t resist the temptation. She sneaks out in the dead of night for quick food runs, careful not to wake Simon. But Simon, ever the observant one, eventually catches her in the act and decides he’s not letting her sneak off again without a word.
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Midnight Snack Bust
Simon stirred slightly in his sleep, his instincts sharper than most even when off-duty. The weight on his chest—a comforting one—shifted, then disappeared altogether.
His eyes fluttered open in the darkness. Your side of the bed was empty, the covers pushed back, a slight chill left in their absence. Simon frowned. This wasn’t the first time.
He waited, still as a statue, listening for any sound that might tell him where you’d gone. The faint creak of the stairs gave you away.
Downstairs, you shuffled around the kitchen, carefully balancing a plate of toast smothered in butter, jam and honey. The thought of waking Simon was laughable—he was always in full protective mode, which meant no late-night snacks for you unless he hovered like a helicopter. Besides, you could handle it. The kitchen wasn’t that far from the bed.
Except, as you turned with your snack in hand, there he was.
Simon stood in the doorway, arms crossed, a shadowy figure of unimpressed authority. The glow from the fridge cast just enough light for you to see his raised brow.
“Really?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.
You froze like a deer caught in headlights, the plate in your hands trembling slightly. “I was hungry.”
“You could’ve woken me.”
“It’s toast, Simon. I think I can manage toast.”
He stepped forward, his size practically swallowing the kitchen whole. “Not about the toast, love. It’s about the stairs. And you bein’ pregnant. You fall, then what?”
You rolled your eyes, but he plucked the plate from your hands, setting it on the counter. Without another word, he scooped you up—scooped, like a bloody princess—and started carrying you back to bed.
“Simon!” you protested, flailing slightly.
“Shush,” he muttered. “You’ve got enough on your plate—literally—without riskin’ your neck for a midnight snack.”
----------
Back in bed, Simon pulled the covers over both of you, his arm locking you in place like a human seatbelt.
“Next time, wake me,” he said, his voice softer now. “You want toast, noodles, a bloody roast dinner—I’ll get it. Just don’t go sneakin’ about.”
You sighed, nestling into his chest. “Fine. But I’m holding you to the roast dinner.”
He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Deal.”
---------- A Wonderful Discovery
One sunny afternoon, you and Price’s fiancée (A/N: Same person from Papa Bear!! Material ;) and many more in this universe of mine, lol! ) decided to meet at a charming little tea house. It had become a bit of a routine—your way of catching up without the boys around to interrupt with their dry humor and war stories.
She was her usual lively self, flipping through the menu even though she’d already decided on her order. You admired how she could make even the simplest thing—like picking a biscuit—seem like an adventure.
“I’ve got to tell you,” she said suddenly, setting her menu down. “There’s this noodle shop. Open late. Best dumplings you’ll ever have. Like, melt-in-your-mouth, life-changing dumplings.”
Your eyebrows rose. “Late-night noodles? Around here?”
She nodded, leaning forward as if sharing a state secret. “Not just noodles—bao buns, dumplings, the works. I discovered it after one of those long nights when John was stuck at the base, and I didn’t feel like cooking. It’s a lifesaver. You’re lucky—it’s right near your place.”
Your interest piqued immediately. The thought of sneaking out for some steaming hot noodles had your mouth watering. “How late are we talking?”
She grinned. “Oh, past midnight. Maybe even 2 or 3 AM.”
----------
That night, as you lay in bed listening to Simon’s soft snores, the thought of that noodle shop lingered. You could almost taste the broth, the tender dumplings, the savory goodness of a late-night food escapade.
The idea began to take root.
----------
Late Night Escape
The idea simmered in your mind all evening. By the time Simon had brushed his teeth, pulled on his oversized sleep shirt, and settled into bed, it had blossomed into a full-blown plan.
You waited. And waited. Timing was everything. Simon’s arm, draped heavily across your waist, rose and fell with the rhythm of his breathing. His presence was solid and warm, a comforting weight—but tonight, it was your obstacle.
Carefully, you began to inch away, moving like a prisoner attempting to slip past a sleeping guard. His hand twitched, and you froze, holding your breath. After a long moment, he let out a soft snore.
Victory.
Sliding out of bed, you padded quietly to the wardrobe, pulling on Simon’s oversized hoodie and slipping into your trusty anti-slip slippers. The eco bag was stashed by the door, waiting. You slipped it over your shoulder, opened the door as quietly as you could, and stepped out into the cool night air.
The noodle shop wasn’t far, but with the chill nipping at your cheeks, it felt like forever. When you finally reached the warm glow of the restaurant, the smells of rich broth and freshly steamed dumplings greeted you like an old friend.
Sliding into a seat, you ordered a large bowl of noodles and a plate of dumplings. The first bite was pure heaven—warm, savory, comforting. This wasn’t just food. This was rebellion. A delicious act of defiance against Simon’s overprotectiveness.
You ate quickly, savoring each bite but keeping an eye on the clock. You couldn’t risk being gone too long, or Simon might wake up. When you finished, you wiped your hands, packed your leftovers into your eco bag, and headed home, feeling victorious.
----------
Simon hadn’t stirred when you returned. You slipped into bed, placing the bag under the bed for good measure. His arm instinctively found your waist again, and you smiled to yourself, utterly pleased.
But this wasn’t going to be a one-time thing.
----------
First Catch
It started feeling too easy. You’d mastered the art of sneaking out: the slow, deliberate slide from under Simon’s arm, the silent shuffle to the door, and the perfectly timed return. Your noodle escapades had become a nightly ritual.
But then, one night, your luck ran out.
You were tiptoeing into the kitchen, quietly opening the fridge to stash the leftover dumplings behind the unassuming bag of lettuce Simon would never touch, when a deep voice cut through the silence.
“Late-night fridge rearranging, are we?”
You jumped, spinning around with a gasp. Simon was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, his imposing figure illuminated by the dim light of the open fridge.
Your mind scrambled for an excuse. “Uh... just wanted some water.”
“In my hoodie? And with an eco bag?” His eyebrow arched, unimpressed.
You tried to tuck the bag behind you, but Simon’s sharp eyes had already caught the unmistakable sheen of takeout containers poking out from the top. He strode forward, plucked the bag from your hands with an annoyingly effortless tug, and opened it.
The aroma of noodles and dumplings betrayed you instantly.
“Water, huh?” He held up a dumpling with mock seriousness. “This what they’re calling it these days?”
You gulped.
----------
Minutes later, you found yourself seated at the kitchen table like a scolded child. Simon, clad in sweatpants and a scowl, had taken over the stove. The sight of him cooking—rolling up his sleeves with a tired sigh—might’ve been endearing if you weren’t on the receiving end of his disapproval.
“You could’ve woken me,” he grumbled, cracking eggs into a bowl with more force than necessary.
“You were sleeping,” you mumbled.
“I’d rather get up than have you sneakin’ around at night,” he said, his tone gruff. “What if somethin’ happened, eh? You’re waddling about in the dark like a burglar.”
You snorted at the image, which earned you a sharp look.
“Not funny,” he said, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “I’ll make the bloody noodles if that’s what you want. Just stop sneakin’ out.”
You stayed silent, chewing on your lower lip. No way were you telling him about the noodle shop.
---------
Close Call
Old habits die hard. A few nights later, you were returning from the noodle shop, quietly slipping into the kitchen to stash your leftovers behind the condiments, when Simon stirred upstairs.
He came padding down the stairs just as you were closing the fridge.
“You were gone,” he murmured groggily, rubbing his face.
“Kitchen,” you lied quickly, holding up an empty glass of water as proof.
He hummed, unconvinced, and squinted at you. “Should’ve woken me.”
“For the kitchen?” you asked, feigning innocence.
“For whatever,” he grunted, his eyes scanning the counter before settling on the fridge. “Don’t like you wanderin’ about on your own.”
You gave him your best innocent smile and shuffled past him toward the stairs. Simon followed a moment later, his suspicion lingering like a shadow.
----------
Growing Suspicion
It started with a nagging feeling Simon couldn’t shake. You were always warm when you came back to bed, slightly out of breath, and he could swear he caught the faintest hint of soy sauce and sesame lingering in the air.
One night, as you slid into bed beside him, he cracked an eye open just enough to catch you pulling off his oversized hoodie. You were trying to be quiet, moving with all the stealth of someone trying not to get caught.
He didn’t say anything. Not yet. But his mind was racing.
The next night, he pretended to be deep asleep as you started your routine. The slow untangling from his grasp, the soft shuffle to grab your hoodie and slippers. He cracked his eye open just as you tiptoed out of the room, eco bag in hand.
Simon lay there for a moment, his jaw tightening. He didn’t believe in jumping to conclusions without evidence—years of military experience had drilled that into him. But this was his wife, and the secrecy was starting to itch.
----------
The Watchful Eye
The next few nights, Simon kept up his act. He watched you go through the same routine: hoodie on, bag in hand, slippers padding softly across the floor. Each time, he waited until you were out of earshot before sitting up and staring at the door.
He debated following you right then and there but decided against it. Instead, he lay back, staring at the ceiling, letting the suspicion simmer.
Until one night, he’d had enough.
----------
Caught in the Act
Simon Riley, a man known for his ability to track an enemy through any terrain in total darkness, cracked one eye open as he heard the faint creak of the bedroom door. His wife, waddling like a stealthy penguin in his oversized hoodie, had escaped once again.
He sat up, running a hand down his face, and muttered, “Bloody hell.” This was the third time this week, and it was starting to feel personal. He reached for his jumper, his movements slow and deliberate.
By the time Simon made it outside, you were already a good distance ahead, waddling down the street with your eco bag swinging by your side. He trailed behind, staying in the shadows like a proper ghost, his breath visible in the chilly night air.
When you entered the noodle shop, he stopped just outside, watching through the window. You were already at a corner table, your face lighting up as the server placed a steaming bowl of noodles in front of you. Then came the dumplings, and your joy was almost palpable.
Simon shook his head, muttering, “Unbelievable,” before pushing the door open. The little bell above the door jingled, but you didn’t notice—too engrossed in your noodles.
He approached silently, stopping just behind you. “Enjoyin’ yourself, are ya?”
You froze mid-slurp, a noodle dangling from your lips. That voice. You’d recognize that deep, gravelly tone anywhere.
Slowly, you turned your head to see Simon standing there, arms crossed and a single brow arched. His expression was equal parts amusement and exasperation.
“I, uh…” You scrambled for an excuse, your voice muffled by the noodle still in your mouth. “Toilet break?”
“Toilet break?” he repeated, pulling out the chair across from you and sitting down. “Love, the loo doesn’t serve dumplings.”
A/N:
Just a heads up—Captain Price’s fiancée in this story is the same lady from Papa Bear Material—Mama Bear! So, if you've read that story, you might recognize her. As for the characters of Y/N, both are technically the same person, so feel free to choose who you identify with!
Y/N’s been caught. And now, Simon’s not having it. And with that, stay tuned for Part 2. Simon’s not letting this go anytime soon…
Edit: Part 2 is here!----->
#Ghost#Simon 'Ghost' Riley#Simon Ghost Riley#Ghost COD#Ghost Call of Duty#Ghost x Reader#Ghost x Wife! Reader#Ghost x You#Ghost x Y/N#Ghost x OC#Simon Riley x Reader#Simon Riley x You#Simon Riley Imagines#Simon Riley x OC#Simon Riley x Y/N#Ghost Fan fic#Ghost FanFic#Simon Riley Fan Fic#Simon Riley Fanfic#Simon Riley Fan Fiction#Simon Riley FanFiction#Simon Ghost Riley x You#Simon Ghost Riley x Reader#Simon Ghost Riley x Y/N#Simon Ghost x Reader#Simon Ghost x You#Simon Ghost fluff
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Can I request headcanons for Sunday, Boothill, Welt, Gallagher, Blade, and Dan Heng react to his gn s/o asking him randomly if they can hug him in private?
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Sunday: adheres to your every want and need without complaint.
He’d easily have a room cleared for you within seconds and make it known that no one should dare disrupt his ‘meeting’ with you, unless it was absolutely necessary.
And even then he’s the one making the final decision on whether or not the issue at hand was really worth his time and resources; which for most of the time they weren’t.
Sunday would more than likely make private hugs a thing in the future. He knew how busy he was and how little time that gives him with you that he felt as though somethings had to change as a result; Also it acted as the perfect guise for him to keep an close eye on you as you held onto him tightly.
He’s selfish and greedy with you and your affection and will take it whenever he felt necessary. Sunday was a hoarder in his own right but mainly with you and who he was forced to share you with because if Sunday had it his way, you’d never leave the room nor his arms unless he said so.
Boothill:
Smirking bastard this one.
Despite the fact that -apart from his face- he couldn’t actually feel anything, he wasn’t one to ignore you wanting to hug him because of it.
He, much like Gallagher, is the kind who’d thoughtfully enjoy just spending the day having you in his arms as having you close was his remedy for almost everything.
However he would be the type to tickle your sensitive spots for the fun of it, and getting to hear your squeals of excitement followed by the sound of your laughter as it makes him happy seeing you happy from something he did.
Does he hate that he can’t feel you against him? Yes.
Will he try to squeeze you closer in a desperate attempt to feel you, even if it that if was faint? Also yes. He just hoped that he could one day trick himself into thinking that he could feel you, but he spent too long coming to terms with that fact that he had lost that ability long ago.
But he keeps this all as far away from you as possible and decided to focus on the warmth your smile brings him instead to compensate.
Welt:
Is more than willing in giving you a hug.
He might think that something was wrong and that you needed some privacy so that you could confess to him your worries in confidence.
So upon arriving somewhere void of anyone and anything, Welt would ask if there was something that you wanted to get off your chest, only for you to tell him that you just wanted to hug him without having so many eyes on you when doing so.
Welt, being the most understand man ever, completely understands where your coming from and would let you hug him for as long as your heart wished. For he simply wanted you to feel as though he was there for you, regardless of how silly or stupid you might think your issues were, he wanted you to know that someone cared and that someone was him.
You’d probably end up sleeping him his arms as he was just so comfortable to be pressed up against and warm. Welt would find himself staring at you for far longer than he probably should, smiling dopily, before helping you to his room or yours where he would soon fall asleep also.
Dan heng;
Isn’t that great with PDA but is more expressive of his emotions behind closed doors. So the moment you asked for him to give you a hug in private, Dan Heng was more than willing to oblige.
After all he’s more prone to giving you affection and sweet words when you were away from everyone else. Not to say that he doesn’t shows that he cares for you in front of other people, but it would probably be a small group of people you both know, whom Dan Heng would feel comfortable with showing that side of himself towards.
Other than that rare expedition, most -if not- all affection was reserved for when you two were alone together.
His inner dragon noodle thrives off of your affection and warmth to the point where Dan Heng becomes flustered and embarrassed by it. You on the other hand thought it was extremely cute that he softly purrs when you burrow yourself into his arms.
‘You’re purring.’ You’d muse, kissing under his jaw.
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ Dan Heng says, face extremely flustered as the sound of his purrs continued.
He may not be all that vocal but he didn’t need to when his body told you everything you needed to know in the moment. He loved spending quieter moments with you and holding you close as it gave him his much needed reassurance that you very much appreciated him still. That he still had a purpose in your life to fulfil.
Gallagher:
Will agree within a heartbeat because any time with you is time well spent in his opinion.
He may or may not use you as an excuse to have the day off, just so he could hold you for the rest of the day, to the point it might as well become a cuddle session.
Give him any opportunity to cuddle and be lazy with you? Count. Him. In.
Also he’d probably would bite you at random points but you were made more then aware of this habit of his. So you’ve had enough time to make your peace with that fact, unfortunately you were also left with the unenviable position of having to explain why you were covered in bite marks, but that’s neither here nor there.
Gallagher would more than gladly spend the rest of his day with you in his arms no matter what and you weren’t one to argue with him as he was practically a walking furnace, and he made for an comfortable pillow on top of that too. Not to mention that he -in general- smelt amazing, which may or may not have been a primary cause for you to somehow manage to fall asleep in his arms a hundred percent of the time.
Blade:
Blade only accepts to hug you in utter privacy because PDA isn’t his thing. So at first he might not seem at all interested in giving you a hug, but the moment you mentioned that you’d want the hug in private, Blade grunted as he grabbed your arm and dragged you elsewhere from prying eyes.
‘This should work.’ He’d then say to himself before looking back at you and raising an eyebrow. ‘Well?’
‘Well what?’ You ask.
‘Aren’t you going to hug me?’ He relies.
‘Well you never really agreed to be hugged, you just grunted and dragged me here so…’ you trailed off as you were then brought against his chest as his arms kept your in place.
The hug itself was stiff, rigid and was a little awkward but all you have to do was practice a little patience and soon you’d feel him slowly start to relax under your touch. He’s not the type whom people feel as though they could come to him for affection or comforting, affirming words because that’s just not Blade, and he will agree to this also for it not being his forte.
For you however, Blade will try to compensate for those shortcomings by any means necessary. He doesn’t try for others nor put in the effort because why would he when it would ultimately amount to nothing?
but you? His partner? He genuinely tries but is secretly happy when you show compassion as to he just can’t.
#hsr imagines#hsr imagine#hsr x reader#hsr x you#Honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#Honkai star rail imagine#Honkai star rail imagines#welt yang x reader#welt Yang imagine#welt Yang imagines#sunday x reader#sunday imagines#Sunday imagine#dan heng x reader#Dan heng imagines#Dan heng imagine#gallagher x you#gallagher x reader#gallagher imagine#gallagher imagines#boothill x reader#boothill x you#boothill imagine#boothill imagines#blade imagines#blade imagine#blade x reader#hsr blade x reader#hsr blade x you
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12 DAYS and 20 HOURS WITHOUT YOU w/c: 5.1k - ; NAGUMO YOICHI x F!READER
✎ᝰ he’s a nuisance & you should be glad to be rid of him… so why does your heart ache for him so much? OR the part two in which you finally address your feelings for your hanger on ex.
࿄ ! warnings — porn WITH plot, MINORS DNI, piv, very explicit smut, unprotected sex (wrap up ppl), cunnilingus, fingering, female reader, nagumo is sexy and you will fall in love so pls keep that in mind.
/ note. i should be revising for my exams but instead i wrote this for a man who is severely underrated. it’s gonna be a nagumo fall. enjoy this anywho :P (ps. can be read as a standalone fic)!!
13 days. that’s how long it had been since you had seen nagumo. you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t eating you up inside.
after your small spat (if you could even call it that) you wrongfully assumed he’d be somewhere in your bedroom the next day when you hadn’t seen him on your couch. you were just about ready to scold him for having his feet all over your satin pillowcases.
only when you trudged upstairs, your bedroom was exactly how you left it. the door ajar, a small breeze from the window. pillows not askew. your sleepy kitten lounging on the covers.
at first, you considered yourself relieved. “good riddance,” you grumbled to yourself, falling atop the blankets and sighing, hands brushing at your pet. the chirp of the cicadas eats at your eardrums. has your home always been this quiet?
“whatever. knowing that idiot, he’ll be back in a day or two… now what to do…”
unfortunately for you, nagumo’s unprecedented drop ins had become part of your daily routine. you don’t become aware of the fact until it’s been exactly 4 days and he still hasn’t shown his face. it had already struck you as odd on the second day, let alone the fourth.
“why do you even care?” you ask yourself, standing under the hum of a sweltering shower. why do you care that your ex hasn’t come around to lounge in your home and bother you? in fact, isn’t this a good thing? the first few times it happened, you were irritated beyond belief - telling the man to get lost, locking your windows and doors only for nagumo to show up despite your barrage of insults, whether that’d be in your kitchen or on your couch or even in the shower (the image of seeing a naked nagumo after all this time was truly something, though you’d never admit it to his face, instead opting to throw a hard bar of soap at him and to which you then had to tend to his aching back after he so called “wept in pain.”) so why did he now decide to just ghost you?
“typical,” is all you can think, drying your hair off, eyes lingering on the razor he left on top of the toilet.
day five comes around. a good day at work with a cute man asking you out renders nagumo forgettable. you’re glad your brain decides it’s high time to forget about him. day six, seven, eight, nine. it’s extremely bearable. you start to see him in your dreams on the seventh day - exactly a week since he just up and left. “that’s normal,” you muse. you dream about people that aren’t in your life all the time. he’s no different.
the night of day ten falls. you’re incredibly exhausted, and you’re regretting making plans on saturday with that somewhat attractive man who works across the street. “it’s no biggie. it’s just one day till the weekend and i can cancel.”
you’re nodding off into your dinner. the warm smell of char siu and noodles doesn’t do much to keep you awake.
then you see him. dark brown eyes and a goofy smile to match. it makes you jump so hard you spill half the content of your meal down your shirt. nobody’s there. your cat sits at the leg of your chair, licking the sodden mess off of the ground.
the gravity of the situation dawns on you. you really really miss nagumo.
ᝰ ᝰ ᝰ ᝰ ᝰ
day eleven comes and goes and the twelfth drags, as do most fridays. that guy who asked you out the other day offers to drop you home when you’re standing outside. it’s warm out and you think a walk would be good for your head. you don’t decline his offer.
the man asks about you and confirms the details of your excursion, and you politely affirm, answering all his questions and asking them back just the same. “he’s not much of a talker,” you think. you’re not used to that.
by the time you’re home, you just want to pass out. you look around your kitchen, living room - heck, even the bathroom for safe measure, just in case you-know-who decided to drop by. the sound of metal clattering has you running to your bedroom, ventricles pumped. not that you cared… you’d act super cool and nonchalant if when nagumo drops by again. it’s all in vain, anyway. it was just your cat jumping onto your vanity. you shoo her away. your heart falls like a crescendo from loony tunes.
who exactly were you kidding? you had long dropped the facade that your heart wasn’t yearning for the idiot, and you wonder how he’s doing when you settle into bed. it would be unlike him to die in an unforeseeable accident, and he would never succumb to a death on the job. another looming realisation dawns on you.
he’s ignoring you.
you groan into your pillow. it’s not like you could really call him (you totally could, and it’s not because you noted down the digits of two of his burner phones, definitely not) without outing yourself. don’t forget the phone works two ways. forget it. you have a date tomorrow.
saturday comes. you get up relatively early. (un)fortunately for you, it’s a miserable day out, contrasting the beautiful weekdays that had passed.
your date texts you in teasing and sweet fashion and the pre-typed out message that consists of grovelling, apologies and more grovelling sits at your fingertips. fuck it. you can’t stay wound up over a man who probably didn’t want you in the first place.
you get ready very early, and you stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror, all done up in a silk to do and the accessories to match. it’s been a while since you’ve had a proper date. a few flings here and there, sure, but this seemed real. like a sure thing. similar to when…
!creaakkk!
your cat meowing and dropping things around in your bedroom has you standing up right, casting aside your lipgloss and running to shoo her away.
“honestly, ponyo, you’re such a drama queen-”
the words die on your tongue at the sight before you. nagumo sits at the edge of your bed, kitten fidgeting in his arms. he looks you up and down, and then he sends you an earth shattering smile, eyes crinkled.
“hey stranger. long time no see!”
your mouth opens and closes as he gets up, and ponyo leaps up and away when he places her on the ground.
“do you think she missed me? i think so. with the stuff you feed her, it’s inevitable-”
“are you serious?!” is all you can say, exasperated, gasping. nagumo’s eyes widen, and he sheepishly scratches the back of his head.
“don’t tell me you’re still mad at me? don’t make me get down on my knees and beg because-” the man gets cut off again as you all but throw your arms around his frame, face in his shirt, a little shaky. if nagumo feels the wobble of your body, he doesn’t mention it and a hand comes to rest at the small of your back.
“so can i assume that you’re not mad at me anymore?” you shake your head, and nagumo chuckles, nose pressed into your hair.
“i wasn’t mad at you,” you say, muffled into his shirt.
“oh? tell me more,” and you move your face slightly so your cheek is smushed against his shirt, eyes pointed away from him. though, you can already feel the expectant smile on the corner of his lips and you want to slap him. kiss him? both.
“i was mad at myself. and i was going to apologise for what i said but you basically ghosted me… for almost three weeks.”
it’s quiet for a moment until the man laughs, guffaws even and it emanates through his chest. you huff and step away from him, back turned away.
“ok, it’s not that funny. you can stop laughing now!”
“sorry, sorry. i’m done, i promise.” nagumo walks from behind you to step into your line of sight. “and technically, it’s only been… i wanna say 12 days and 20 hours.”
you deadpan. then you roll your eyes. “you were counting?! you’re unbelievable!” and he just pouts at you. eyes wide and shiny. you don’t admit to him that you’ve also been doing the same. that day’ll come.
“i mean, i would’ve come around sooner buttt! contrary to popular belief, i’m not so socially inept to not give you space. although, i was starting to think you were replacing me with that loser at that law firm. i want to say his name is hajime-”
“okay, not even close-”
“and what kind of idiot takes their woman out to a sushi bar on the first date. and he drives a toyota camri. he’s lame.”
“…first of all, i’m not his woman. how did you know i was going on a date tonight? and how do you even know what car he drives?”
“…let’s not sweat the details. that dress is new, right? haven’t seen it before. looks beautiful on you-”
“so not only were you spying on me but you were ignoring me?!” you fist the man by the collar of his coat and you just loll your head onto his chest. “were you always this crazy when we dated?” you hum and he laughs again. like he knows you’re addicted to the sound and how it makes your tummy ignite into something worse than flames. his hands find their way into his pocket and he shrugs.
“probably. but you liked it.” you don’t bother to contend. nagumo grabs you by the wrists, and takes a good look at you. his deep eyes follow the sliver of gold against your collarbones, all the way down to the hemming of your dress. it makes you feel hot under your heart shaped neckline.
“like the dress. like it a lot. wouldn’t waste it on some shitty sushi and cheap sake, though.”
“well it’s not you taking me out tonight though, is it? it’s…” you think for a second. you can feel the laughter blooming in his chest and you try to fight your way out of his grasp, though it’s in vain. nagumo laughs so hard that the pout on your face starts to pop into a smile and it’s infectious enough that you laugh too.
when the laughter inevitably dies down, you and the dark haired man share a look that you encompasses all the thoughts and emotions that have been swimming in your head the past long few days. he’s still holding you by the wrists, your fingers crinkling against the loose material of his shirt.
nagumo says your name, more so to himself as his tattooed hands stay wrapped from the width of your jewellery clad wrists down to your forearms.
“you’re being awfully touchy to a woman who’s supposed to being out on a date in a few hours,” you say, just above a whisper.
he hums at that, pulling you in further by the elbows. “i guess you’re right. you could always tell me to go away, though. wouldn’t be the first time.”
you groan audibly and he shoots you another grin that climbs its way into the wrinkles of your brain. “what do i have to do for you to not bring that up? and don’t make me get on my knees and beg-”
“damn, that was my first choice too!” you roll your eyes. he’s still holding you. your palms are flat against his chest. “i suppose i could call it even if…” nagumo pretends to ponder for a moment. you try to shove him with as much power as you can on the man.
“if you don’t just come out with it-”
“kiss me.”
the speed at which your eyebrows almost shoot into your hairline is unprecedented. you try to read his face for any sign of playful unfairness, but you’ve known him long enough to read the softness of his eyes.
your hands fist at his shirt again and it’s your turn to laugh at him, head thrown back. he pouts in response.
“you’re unbelievable,” and before he can retort, you lean up on your tip toes to do as he asked. he’s exactly how you remember, all those years ago. warm, sweet, slightly intoxicating. the sigh you release is shaky and he swallows it whole. the width of his palms immediately let go of your arms and find purchase on your waist and your hands travel all the same, resting on the planes of his face and neck.
the kiss is over before it started and you don’t even get a chance to breathe before nagumo is back on you, pulling you in by the hips, tongue slipping in comfortably like you’ve always been this way. and you give in, your body adapting to years old muscle memory. it’s like you’re almost a decade younger all over again, and your brain turns to mush when nagumo gropes you, grabbing all the parts he can to get impossibly closer to you.
you almost don’t notice the way he throws off his coat. and the fact that he’s trying to get you onto the bed. almost.
you protest in a breathy whine, breaking apart from locking lips. “we-i can’t. my date-”
“sucks. he sucks. i’ll take you wherever you want. buy you everything you want. just let me have you.”
you’re too out of it to even give a snarky answer, grabbing nagumo by the neck and pressing your lips to his own once more. he grunts, lightly pushing you both down onto the pillows.
he breaks apart from the kiss to lave more around your jaw, with one heavy hand resting on your cheek while he bruises on your neck, clavicle and the top of your breasts, all heavy and imposing. you writhe in his touch, and you can’t help the fact that your thighs start to rub against each other to soothe the heat arising in your core.
as perceptive as ever, nagumo quickly notices and makes fast work of placing his leg between your own, and you can’t help but breathe out a winded “yoichi.”
he groans, smirking against your collarbone. “missed hearing you say that.”
you huff, pushing his hands down the curves of your body. “don’t push your luck, nagumo.”
he chuckles, unfazed, and smooth, deft fingers climb under the hem of your satiny dress. he hikes your dress high enough to see a flash of damp cotton panties.
he presses a digit against your clothed clit and you can’t control the way your head falls against your pillows, mouth falling open as you whine out his name again.
nagumo halts all movement though, pushing himself backwards to lean further onto his knees off the bed. you practically jump up, confused and stupidly horny.
“strip for me.”
you narrow your eyes. he shoots you a saccharine smile, and you don’t bother to banter with him, getting on your haunches and pulling down a thin strap on either arm, and shimmying out of the garment. you can tell by the elated shock in nagumo’s eyes that he hadn’t expected you to comply but you throw the dress in his face, and he shakes it off faster than you can adjust yourself on top of the bed covers. he’s already crowding over you, face mere centimetres away.
“sorry, you can’t be the only one having your fun,” you tease, leaning up to kiss his nose and it’s his turn to not take your bait, but maybe it’s because he’s too enamoured at the sight of your naked body after all this time. a tattooed hand reaches up to grab a handful of your boob, pinching slightly at your nipple and the other makes it descent down to the hemming of your panties. his fingertips dip into the front, pushing the material to the side and he groans when he can see the way your pussy clenches over nothing.
“you’re so pretty,” he sighs, and you watch the way he touches you, featherlight and it has you writhing, inching closer to feel more of his touch.
“patience, baby.” nagumo throws off his shirt, and you take in the expanse of his never ending tattoos. your hand reaches up to touch the one on his stomach and he smirks, albeit warm and slightly teasing.
“got a few new ones a couple months back,” he all but whispers and you hum.
“i like them,” you state, matter of factly and he pushes your hand away to lay on his stomach between your legs.
nagumo’s face presses into your belly, and you push a few fingers into the dense strands of his hair. he kisses you at the belly button, paving a wet path down to your moist underwear.
he noisily smooches on your panty clad clit and you wordlessly protest in embarrassment, groaning and whining while he smiles against you. though, you’re quick to stop complaining when he pushes your panties to the side and breathes you in, kissing your uncovered pubis. now you’re frantically trying to push him away instead.
“you’re so shameless,” you fuss and nagumo doesn’t say anything. he only pushes your legs further apart to accommodate him.
“can i eat you out?” he asks and you raise a brow, face flushing. he shrugs, “i wanna hear you say it.”
you want to insult him for trying to fluster you in his own weird way but you’re also stupidly, ridiculously turned on right now that you can’t be bothered to play this cat and mouse game.
your hands cover your face and you mumble ever so quietly, verbatim: “please eat me out.”
“can’t hear you, sweetheart. come on, you can’t possibly be acting all shy. my face is literally in your-”
“just please eat me out!” you say, exasperated and incensed by the burning desire to have his mouth on you.
nagumo doesn’t mess with you any further but he can’t help the snicker that escapes him. you’re also ready to call him names and berate him, unfortunately being the hot head that you are, but it’s a useless act because nagumo already has your pants down your legs and strewn across the room somewhere, and he’s immediately pressing a sloppy, wet kiss on your love button.
a strangled “yoichi!” escapes from your throat and you’re already helplessly weaving between the strands of his black hair. it only goads him on further, and your head struggles to keep itself up when he thumbs at the hood of your clit, lifting it up to suck at the bundle of nerves. you become one with the plush pillows beneath you once again.
nagumo’s tongue soothes and pokes around, sucking and kissing at all the sensitive parts of your flower. he lifts one leg up higher to allow him more access, and you lock your fingers on top of his hand that grips ardently at the tender skin of your thigh. you have no time to react when you feel two fingers press into your cunt hole, and you chant his name like a mantra, gasping and almost tearful from the way he feels.
you can feel his dark brown eyes on you, and he stops tasting you to bite your inner thigh. you yelp, and he lulls over where he indented you with his teeth.
“you’re close, right? want you to look at me when you cum,” is all he says, and you don’t get to reply when he’s back sucking your pearl into his mouth, pressing his fingers against a certain spot inside you that has your legs trying to close in on themselves around his head.
“f-fuck, ‘ichi, i’m gonna cum,” you moan, and per his request, your eyes stay on his own, and you tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, the applied pressure stopping you from falling back and losing it.
“say my name like that again,” he groans, and you don’t fail to notice the way he grinds against the bed ever so slightly. “come on, baby, you’re almost there-”
“hnngh, fuck, right there ‘ichi, ‘m cumming-,” you gasp and a flash of white behind your eyes renders you temporarily paralytic, eyebrows furrowed and mouth opened in an ‘o’, and the grip on nagumo’s hair tightens. he keeps a firm hand on your thigh, and your heart would burst at the romantic gesture of him interlocking your fingers together at literally any other time, but he doesn’t stop his assault on the spongey spot inside you until you go limp and you practically have to pry the man off of you.
nagumo’s no sadist (to you, at certain times) so he stops, pulling back and watching the way your chest heaves and the way you glisten between your upper thighs. you don’t register that he’s next to you again until you feel nimble fingers touching on your lower belly. you open your eyes to look at him, and the full blown lust in his eyes makes you choke a little bit.
you grab his hand off your stomach to kiss his fingertips, and then you’re clambering on top of him, palms splayed against his decorated chest. you feel the thickness of his hard cock pressed against your wet core, and you grind against the strained material of his trousers. nagumo grunts, head falling back slightly as he immediately finds purchase on your ass.
“you’re hard,” you assert, and he laughs a little breathlessly and it breaks off into a moan when you press down on him a little harder.
“i guess i am,” he rustles, squeezing your lower curves to push you against his stiffness. “you should let me put it in.”
“oh? is that so?” you say, taunting the man as you slide up and down his neglected cock that’s begging to be released from its confines.
“yeah… wanna fuck you, baby.” nagumo’s all heavy eyelids and suave lips as he gazes up at you, hands all touching all over you. you’re heating up from his languid touches, and you’re cursing yourself for already being so raring to go after he ate you to his heart’s content.
“okay,” is all you say, and you shimmy backwards to undo the man’s bottoms, unbuttoning his pants and helping him kick them off till he’s left in tight gray boxer briefs. your eyes find the damp patch on the front of his shorts, and you softly finger the head of his cock through the cloth. nagumo grunts, sighing your name when you waste no time pulling down his underwear to reveal him in all his glory.
“didn’t that hurt?” you wonder out loud, more to yourself if anything, and nagumo realises you’re referring to the tattoo above his pelvis, only shy of the dark trail that nests above his erection. he places a hand over your wandering one and he chuckles.
“a little. nothing i can’t handle.” you make a noise of something, and you lean down to kiss him very gently and so very close to where he wants. nagumo groans, and he reaches down to pet your hair.
“another time,” you wink, biting your lip. nagumo smiles, raising a brow and he looks like he wants to ask you what you mean but you’re ahead of the curve and you’re settling back up on his lower body, your soaked heat brushing and sliding against his cock. he’s putty after that, head in the clouds as he feels the drench of your lips rub against the hardness of his cock.
“tell me you want it,” you say, and you stop looking down to where you’re almost conjoined to meet nagumo’s eyes; his face contorted to something readable only to you. “or, you know, you could just cum like this.”
nagumo moans at that, and he sets a heavy handed grab on your ass. “don’t remember you being such a tease, baby, sh-shit.”
you croon at his words. you don’t stop the ministrations of your grinding and the raven haired man beneath you barely puts out until the slick of your cunt hole catches the mushroom shaped tip of his cock.
“fuck, i want it, baby, want you to cream on me-” and you don’t let him finish his vulgarity because you grab him at the base of his cock and settle yourself right on top of him, inch by inch.
nagumo hisses, and his iron grip on your hips doesn’t subside until he’s all the way inside you. you both simultaneously moan in relief when he’s by the hilt, and you can practically feel him all the way in your throat.
“fucking missed this so much,” he keens, and you feel him raise his knees to accommodate to you better. you slowly get the rhythm going, grinding and gently bouncing on his dick and you’re delirious at the way his pubic hair brushes against your swollen clit, and how you can feel the slap of his weighted balls against your ass.
nagumo plants his feet on the bed, refusing to loosen his grip on you and you can’t even bring yourself to care about the bruises that’ll stay depressed into your skin. you move one of his number decorated hands to grab at your chest, which he complies with and the other stabilises you against him so that he can thrust into you at a steady pace.
“so, so good,” you whine, almost falling forward by the jolt of nagumo’s body. you plant both arms on either side of his head, tits bouncing in his face, going back and forth against his open mouth that tries to catch a pebbling nipple.
taunting words leave his mouth as he watches you try to keep up. “feel good, baby? shit. tell me how it feels, y-yeah? you like it when i fuck you like this, huh?”
you clench around him tighter. “hnnngh, so fuc-fucking good, ‘ichi.”
you lean down on your elbows, and while he bucks up into you, his eyes don’t stray, and when your lips follow the sharp lines of his jaw and press on his jugular, nagumo angles his head so you can sloppy kiss him on the mouth.
it’s like that for a few moments until he stops to throw you off of him, and you’re ready to whine and complain, but he’s already on you again, this time on top.
“gotta take my time with you,” he breathes, and he finds a new position, this time pulling your left leg over his shoulder and spreading the right one to fit around his hips.
“is that code for you were gonna cum too fast?” you giggle, and nagumo doesn’t grace your playful ribbing because he slips back into you and your once teasing laughter breaks off into a deep moan of pleasure.
“don’t make fun of me,” he says, feeding his cock into you at an achingly slow rate, “hurts my feelings.” and you want to call him embarrassing and silly, you really do, but your heart is on your tongue and nagumo overcrowds every part of your senses.
nagumo leans over you, and grinds himself inside your compact walls. his face is in the crook of your neck and he teethes at the tender skin. you throw a callous hand in hand to satiate the hunger in your belly.
the unrelenting pace in which he fucks you is downright insane: all you can think about is him, all you can smell and taste is him. when you open your eyes, he’s looking down at you, holding and stretching you open, spitting not-so-sweet nothings at you. you worship him all the same, crying out his name, begging him to take you harder and faster, nails raking across the width of his back.
“you’re s-so, hah, shit, you’re so gorgeous,” he moans, “not gonna last, f-fuck.”
you’re almost there, teetering on the finish line, so nagumo ever so slightly adjusts his position, and he presses his cock head against that point inside you. you’re weightless in his hold, writhing when he reaches down to rub taut circles against your puffy pearl. it’s enough to make you sob, gasp and cry out a throaty “‘ichi!”, back arching, toes curling.
nagumo takes a hardened nipple into his mouth, bruising against the creamy flesh of your tits. his speed and movement becomes sloppy, rushing to the edge, the echoes of skin slapping against each other. your tearful face and your short winded begging (“cum inside me, yoichi” and “want you to fill me up”) in the midst of your intra-climatic hue are enough to get him to empty out hot inside of you, his eyebrows furrowed and an o-shape taking over the soft shine of his mouth.
you pull yourself up by the hand on the back of his scruff to kiss him wetly, tongue and all and he takes it, moaning and cursing out your name while pushing his seed deep inside you.
it’s quiet except for mingling, heavy breaths and the creak of your bed when nagumo falls on top of you. you squeak in protest, trying to push the lug of a man off.
“get off me you big idiot!” you squeal, and you feel his body shaking while he’s closed in on you.
“you’re nice and warm,” he sighs, “think i could stay like this for a good, couple of hours.”
you scoff. your hand reaches up to pet at his damp hair. nagumo smiles against your clavicle.
“do you think i still have time to go on that date?” you say, all forlorn and nagumo’s head shoots up, in which you laugh at the way his face contorts. he grumbles, and he eases out of you slowly. you hiss, but the grin on your face stays all the same.
���you think you’re so funny,” nagumo dryly contends and you sit up, kissing him on the nose.
“what can i say? learnt from the best,” you reply, just to the point where only he can hear you.
you think he’s so ridiculously easy (you won’t ever tell him that) when he returns your grin, and grabs your face to kiss you, all over you cheeks and lips.
“damn right, baby, damn right.”
EXTRA, EXTRA - read all about it:
“by the way, what did you mean when you said i owed you one?”
nagumo pulls his head from your chest, tv blaring and illuminating his puzzled, adorable expression, a piece of popcorn dangling from his mouth. his face turns blank as he ponders. then it’s like a lightbulb switches on above his head.
“oh, i fed ponyo and let her out onto the balcony but that old man saw me and i convinced him that he was seeing things so he wouldn’t call the cops… you’re welcome!”
“you did WHAT?!”
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#✎𓂃⊹ monologue💬 .ᐟ。°˖⌕#༝˚૮ .♡ yoichi.#✎𓂃uma thirsts。°˖⌕#nagumo yoichi x reader#nagumo x reader#sakamoto days x reader#nagumo smut#nagumo yoichi#skdy x reader#sakadays x reader#nagumo yoichi fanfic#no beta read sawryyy i tried
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