#longer drabble

[sku11s1asher]

neuvillette x male reader for soulmates au😞😞 enemies to lover trop to omg there both rivals but slowly fall inlove with each other😭

neuvillette x nb/male reader (soulmate au)

note: ermm ignore how long it took, i forgot to check inbox, also i didn’t go too much into enemies more like haters to lovers lol (this is a long drabble bc i couldn’t think of any main prompts, enjoy it bc it really is long oops)

ooc neuv , suggestive , also they don’t really go in a order so yeah

fem dni

before finding out your soulmates (d1 haters frfr)

⋆ you and neuvillette seemed to argue over every little thing. if you breathed in his direction he’d mumble something under his breath, causing an argument.

⋆ everyone thought you both were dating, every single time you both even come close to each other theres some awkward sexual tension

⋆ he criticized every little thing you did, if said something a little wrong, he’d make fun of you, always having to run his mouth

⋆ now you personally didn’t really believe in soulmates because of how hard it is to find yours, to find your soulmate you have to actually touch them; not a touch as in accidentally graze but like an intimate type, a hug, etc.

⋆ if you are a attorney, you always would always drag on the case longer than it needs to be just to argue a little longer (you also did it to spend more time with him but, i won’t tell anyone your secret)

⋆ neuvillette and you had some weird type of rivalry, you guys knew each other for a while, every single time you felt as neuvillette liked someone you ended up taking them from him and he did the same to you.

⋆ at the same time, he didn’t honestly know how to feel about you, your personality was so different from his. he tried his best to stay away from you but, clearly it didn’t work.

⋆ his hatred for you was also contributed because of your friends, the people you hang around, the not so liked people in fontaine.

⋆ he felt as you were a competition for him at the same time; you were a little too good at your job (whatever you want it to be), now it may not necessarily be at his level but you were too good for his liking.

⋆ his emotions and feelings are all over the place. he couldn’t decide if he hated you, didn’t care, or was jealous.

⋆ neuvillette always looked at you, even if it was a look of hatred, love, admiration, anything. he always had some type of eye on you, he felt some time of connection with you.

⋆ if you ever got in trouble, he took the blame for it, which was odd as he wouldn’t really care if you were someone else.

⋆ fontaine was raining really bad, that day happened to be the day you got injured.

⋆ you had just got back from sumeru which isn’t the safest place, your injuries weren’t thatttt bad but, they weren’t the prettiest.

⋆ once you got a little healed and we’re allowed to leave, you saw him. he wasn’t doing anything important just looking at the melusine.

⋆ you walked up to him to annoy and tease him, most people were conflicted if you were enemies or lovers.

⋆ you weren’t expecting his reaction though, instead of arguing with you, he hugged you. you were frozen for a moment but eventually hugged him back, which is how you found out you were soulmates.

once you find out you’re soulmates ;

⋆ he always has some part of him touching you, even if it’s his pinkie, he needs the comfort of you.

⋆ soulmates share a mark with each other, you both have (design of your choice idk), every single time you get intimate with him, he always kisses and loves on it.

⋆ he loves praising you, if you win a court case or do something really good in your job, expect a night full of praise.

⋆ you both didn’t announce your relationship with anyone though, you both give sly comments every chance you get.

⋆ neuvillette loves you though, your the only person who gets him to act the way he does.

⋆ he’s always had a soft spot for you, before you were soulmates and when you were hating on each other every chance you both had.

⋆ once you both got into a huge argument, it was raining hard, you felt bad because he’s your bf/hubby

⋆ when you walked into his office and saw him crying you didn’t know what to do. he never got better with his emotions and expressing them with you.

⋆ “baby, i’m sorry, you were right i was wrong, okay?” you said to him while walking up to his desk. all he did was look at you and wipe his tears, not giving you a response.

⋆ he truly was the prettiest crier you’ve ever met, it was kind of a turn on, but keep your mind out the gutters your bf is cryin!

⋆ you both cuddle a lot, after you argue. he never liked having serious arguments with you though, it brought him some type of sadness.

⋆ just overall, he’s an lovin boyfriend (and hopefully husband), he’s the best soulmate you could’ve ever asked for!

⋆ ps; he still doesn’t like your friends (lyney)

[trappolia]

"i never noticed this before," you murmur, brushing your fingers over the singular dragon scale upon malleus's forehead, the ebony a darker shade of his hair against the pallid alabaster of his skin. the touch startles malleus for but a single moment, before he regains his composure.

he smiles, something impish and childlike glinting in his eyes as he leans down till he's level with you. unperturbed (you've grown accustomed to his many quirks in your time together, just as you've found the beauty of the gargoyles that malleus finds so much joy in observing), you take his closeness in proximity as an invitation to continue. malleus makes a soft, pleased purr as you brush his bangs away, touching the delicate scale.

"i suppose it's always been covered by my hair," he muses, smiling conspiratorically. "does it please you, finding more evidence of my draconic lineage?"

you hum, barely holding back a smile as you twist a strand of his hair around your finger. "i suppose it pleases me just to learn more things about you."

malleus blinks, caught off guard by your boldness for just a moment before he throws his head back to the raining heavens to laugh. the tears of the sky touch his face, and he has never been more angelic.

"oh, you delight me so, child of man."

[deusfoundry]

girl dad!zayne is a head turner whenever he attends his daughter's school events. people drool at the sight of him, honeyed smile flashing as his daughter runs to him, arms flexing through his shirt when he picks her up. they almost build up the courage to approach him, but they catch a glimpse of the gold wrapped around his ring finger and settle on admiring from afar. others who still try to make a move on him are shot down immediately when he pulls you into a sweet kiss, chuckling against your lips as your daughter gags jokingly. he plants a kiss on her temple before wrapping his free arm around your waist as he guides you both to his (very expensive) car.

[shotmrmiller]

in which johnny gifts the love of his life a sex toy outta nowhere

when you mumble into the phone that you miss him, johnny, he pauses for a second, then tells you he's going to bring you a gift back home. "to keep ye company, hen." after, he locks himself in a bathroom stall and watches you play with yourself until you both come.

but you'd thought he'd bring you a pet. a live animal that needs a cage to be brought across the world, not a long, slim unmarked box.

it's a sex toy. and it's rather large, at that. your hand wraps around the base, fingertips still a good inch apart.

"and i'm supposed to be using that?" his arms wrap around your waist, his thick stubble grazing the sensitive skin of your neck, raising goose flesh.

"don't like it? only had ye in mind, hen." he presses a wet kiss on your fluttering pulse. you've never really talked about toys in your relationship. you don't need them, of course, and johnny more than makes up for the time lost between you two whenever he's home but this?

"i don't know," you mumble. "a bullet would've made more sense, i think. at most a rose." his hands run up your sides, to the swell of your breasts and give you a gentle squeeze. he doesn't believe the tripe of people valuing size over all else, does he? the thing is easily as thick as your forearm and it's corded with veins. and it's uncut. whoever is making these are going to extreme lengths to make it as realistic as possible.

he bucks his hips, prominent bulge in his jeans coming to rest in the small of your back. of course he'd get excited. menace.

"ye willnae have t'use it alone now tha' i'm here. 'sides, i think ye'd look perfect with my pretty kitty stretched thin around it." johnny grabs your hips firmly, creating small divots as his grip tightens. "maybe i'll watch ye fuck yerself on it, hm? lap at yer clit while ye do." liquid heat pools in your belly, pulsing hot between your legs.

he really wants you to use it, given by his ragged breathing and he rutting himself against you. fine. "okay. just, not right now, yeah? i want only you in me." his eyes burn fluorescent as he nods, his large hand cradling your head as he pulls you in for a kiss.

you missed this. the sweet sting of his cock sliding home in your aching cunt, the sharp pinch below your navel when his tip comes to sit snugly against the plug of your womb. you've missed this. missed him.

maybe he'll forget all about that monstrosity sitting in the box.

-

he doesn't. he's bringing it up hours later, his spend still dripping warm on your thighs. johnny cannot be serious.

"course i am, hen." his fingers sweep at the hair stuck to your sweat-slick forehead. "is it a crime to want to see ye split open on some- something else?"

you think nothing of his stutter. "alright," you groan. if that's what he wants. it'll be interesting to see just how much you can take. you'll never tell him that your pussy clenched around nothing at the thought, his cum trickling out faster, pooling on the sheets.

-

it's not warm. the tip of it presses against your swollen entrance, cold in contrast to your heated flesh. johnny watches you swallow a gasp, your trembling hands reaching for his as you slide down an inch, two, three. johnny's cum is wonderful lube, but the searing burn- the size of toy is overwhelming, your walls being wrenched apart as you glide down further. johnny presses a prickly kiss on your cheek, cooing in your ear all the while his clever fingers draw gentle circles on your clit. "focus on breathin', bonnie. yer tensin' up."

desire begins to bubble beneath your skin, pleasure causing your muscles to warm and slacken, and after a long couple of minutes, you find yourself at the base.

but then johnny grabs your hips from behind and pulls- oh. "that's it." if you'd thought the toy had originally been in your stomach, it's now in your throat. "pretty as a peach, hen. jus' wha' i wanted to see." a shiver dances up your spine, notches trembling as you get used to the unforgiving stretch of the toy. his breath warms the side of your neck. "on yer go."

you come around it no less than three times, leaving it milky and johnny cleans it up with his mouth before he cleans you up.

-

the girth of it is something you'll never get used to but it does get easier. when johnny goes back to work, he tells you that all he asks for are videos of you using it. for his collection, he greedily says.

you send him as many as you can, no matter the hours. just a quick nsfw text before getting his thumbs up and away it goes. it's incredibly fun. the relationship hadn't been dull by any means, but this just feels invigorating. you feel rejuvenated. that johnny is your biggest cheerleader while using it is such a bonus.

you oughta marry him. maybe you'll elope the next time he's home. but when the next time comes, johnny calls you instead of messaging you the usual be home soon text.

and it sends you reeling.

bonnie. the toy treat ye well while i was gone?

no better than you could me, but yeah. i'm still sore from using it in the last video i sent you.

that's great. if ye like the toy then ye'll love the real thing, i ken. we'll be there in 10.

[rissouu]

it was well known that choso was a family man before anything. when he found out about your pregnancy, he was nearly bouncing off the walls in joy. everything was so perfect at first.. watching his daughters first step with you, her first words, all of it.

but that was years ago now. somehow in the midst of the up and downs of having a newborn, your relationship started to fall down the drain. so much so that it got the point you both just called it off, neither of you having the energy to keep trying to save yourselves from the inevitable.

he was still there for his daughter of course, that’s one thing he wouldn’t dare to lack in. but it was so hard to be around his daughter without the thought of you in the back of his head, he fucking missed you.

and after drowning in his sorrows for so long, he finally built up the courage to talk to you and act like a real man.

that’s what got you here, with one leg wrapped around his waist in hopes to keep him trapped in you. “p..please baby, missed this ‘s much- missed you so much!”

choso chuckled lowly, silver chains dangling from his neck and hovering over your sweaty face. his hands locked around your plump thighs, helping to hold them in place.

“y’missed me mama, really? what about all those fuckin’ dates of yours hm?”

his blood boiled thinking about it, all those times he had to hear from your daughter that you were out, out with other men.

you tried ignoring his question at first, not having the energy in you to utter a word. but you nearly lost it when his big calloused hands pushed on your lower stomach, applying pressure to your abdomen.

“you don’t hear me talking to you? what did i tell you about that shit?” his head tilted, drops of his sweat falling from his chest to yours. you never felt more full.

puddles of your own spit piled in your throat making it hard to speak or even breathe. you couldn’t help it when you started choking, just as choso couldn’t help it when he started pushing down harder. “mm please, please cho i hear you! ‘m sorry, never gonna go on any dates ever again!”

he chuckled lowly at your fucked out state. drool and sweat covering almost every inch of your face, hair messy and tangled as if you’d just woken up.

“you let anybody touch my perfect pussy since i been gone mama? or my pretty tits?” he cupped your soaking cunt in his palm, his thrusts only getting rougher, quicker.

all you could give him was an aggressive shake of your head, which was the truth. choso was the only man you’d ever let have you like this.

“such a good girl, my good girl.” he left soft kisses to your forehead, serving as a thank you for taking him so well. “what d’ya say we give our baby a couple siblings? you’re such a good mama, and i heard she’s been pretty lonely all by herself..”

©rissouu 2025 (pls i literally pulled this shit outta my ass, but imagine cho as a baby daddy?? i need him..)

dom!choso collection

[samaraxmorgan]

Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time The Heater Broke On Christmas”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: frenemies to lovers, tooth rotting fluff, mutual pinning

Word Count: 2.44k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Christmas is always a hectic time of year, and after spending the last week in an utter state of chaos trying to get all of your friend’s and family’s gifts ordered and in the mail on time, cookies baked and hidden away from your ravenous roommate Sukuna who swears up and down that he doesn’t even like sweets but the ones you make just taste so much better, and staying up until midnight haphazardly taping in messily folded wrapping paper and scribbled “to and from” tags on countless presents, you were more than ready to flop onto your living room couch and pass out.

But you’re just not allowed to have nice things, it seems.

The apartment is freezing cold when you walk in the front door, cool air pinching your skin and the groan of annoyance escaping your throat leaving a puff of white air in its wake. Sukuna left shortly after you did this morning to spend the day with his brothers, and as you rush your way over to the thermostat to turn the heat back on you can’t even begin to fathom why he would bother turning the air off when you were both only gone for the day. Sure, the bills can get expensive, but he’s not seriously that broke… you hope.

But as you push the buttons on the thermostat and the little screen informs you that the air in fact is on, dread rushes through you. A quick call to the landlord ends exactly how you expected it to, sent to voicemail with a cheery little message mentioning that no one will be available until after the holidays.

You may as well just die in here, you think as you sit down on the couch. The cool leather is almost painfully cold, making you flinch when it hits your skin. Silently you contemplate going back to where you spent the whole day; even if there were tons of people and you ended up leaving early because you were dying for some peace, at least it was nice and warm there.

But you push that idea aside, getting back on the train would be a pain, you’d have to trek through the snow again on your way back to the station, you could come up with a million excuses but in the back of your mind there’s this little nagging feeling that you don’t want to admit is the real reason you would rather stay home. You haven’t seen Sukuna all day.

It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid, but you’ve been so busy and even though the two of you live together it feels like you haven’t been able to see him for almost the entire week. And even though you spent the whole day around people you love, you couldn’t wait to come back home to your dickhead roommate.

Obviously you’d rather die than admit that to him, already picturing that trademarked smirk plastered on his tattooed face, but you can’t deny that something about him is charming. He’s smug and sarcastic and cocky and annoying and- you could really go all day to be honest; but then he has those moments where he can take the air right out of your lungs. Sweet, kind little gestures where this big scary bad guy acts like a total gentleman and it makes your heart race.

You doubt you’ll ever understand how he has that hold over you.

The sound of the door creaking open is your only warning before Sukuna steps into the freezing apartment, pink bangs damp and disheveled falling over his forehead and snow clinging to his black leather boots. He shrugs off his coat with a fluid motion, tossing it onto the stair rail as he fixes you with a sharp grin, flashing his canines mischievously.

“Didn’t think you’d actually beat me back here,” he drawls, a sarcastic lilt in his tone, “Guess you couldn’t go a day without missing my charming personality.”

You roll your eyes, breath puffing out in a faint cloud as you speak, “Missed that loud mouth, you mean.”

“Cute.” Although the word is borderline dripping in sarcasm, you still manage to catch the way a smile subtly tugs at the corner of his lips.

“I don’t suppose you’re any good with fixing heaters?” You ask hopefully, Trying to suppress a shiver as you motion toward the uncooperative thermostat.

He raises a brow, kicking off his boots and stepping into the living room, “The fuck do I look like, an HVAC guy? Just call the landlord.”

“I did,” You flop back against the couch with a defeated thump, tossing an arm over your face, “No one can come out ’til tomorrow, holidays or whatever.”

Sukuna could literally hear the frustration in your voice as he plops down next to you on the cold leather couch, “Tragic.” His tone is teasing, but his crimson eyes linger on your shivering form; with an over dramatized huff puffing an icy cloud in the air he muses, “Guess you’ll freeze.”

You briskly rub your hands up and down your arms, a futile attempt to warm yourself up, “And you won't?”

He peers down at you, posture completely relaxed despite the icy air and an unimpressed frown on his face, “I don’t get cold.”

You can’t help but let out a snort at his audacity, “Yeah?” You prop yourself up on your elbows to grin up at him, “Same way you don’t get sick?”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, letting his back sink into the cool leather cushions of the couch, “That was a fluke.”

“Such a big fat liar,” You tease, elbowing his arm. But the playful jab shifts into curiosity when you notice that his skin is actually warm against your frozen fingers. Without hesitation, you wrap your hand around his tattooed wrist, making him flinch and hiss dramatically

“Fucking christ-”

“You were actually serious?” You interrupt, scrambling upright to press your freezing hands into his arms.

“Yes, I was- fuck, stop touching me holy shit.” He swats your hands away, goosebumps forming on his skin, “How the hell have you not died of frostbite? You a fuckin’ reptile or some shit?”

“Are you a living space heater?” You scoot closer to him, grabbing at his forearms in a desperate attempt to warm yourself up.

“Quit grabbin’ me you fucking weirdo,” He stands abruptly, nearly having to yank his arm out of your desperate grip, rolling his eyes at the pitiful groan of disappointment that escapes your throat, “Just- give me a second, hold on.”

You watch pitifully as he jogs up the stairs, the already freezing cold room feeling so much colder without him sitting next to you, even in the mere seconds that he’s gone. It’s almost embarrassing how you came home early to see him, have missed him and his attitude so much, and then god forbid he walks away this cramped little apartment just feels empty. But within less than a minute you can hear his footsteps thumping down the wooden stairs, a large dark red comforter slung over his arm.

He can’t help but chuckle when he sees your eyes light up, gently shaking his head as he tosses the comforter over your head and watches you scramble to wrap yourself up in it, “How long were you home without considering a fuckin’ blanket?”

“Fuck off.” You mumble as you clutch the blanket in your shaking hands; it isn’t exactly warm, still cool to the touch from sitting on his cold bed, but it’s better than nothing. Shivers still run over your skin as you wrap your arms around yourself.

You can feel the cushions shift under Sukuna’s weight when he sits down on the couch. His eyes peer down to your shivering form laying up against his thigh, silently watching you for a moment as if he’s contemplating something. Without saying a word he squeezes up behind you, wedging himself behind you and pressing his chest against your back. His arm snakes over your torso, pulling you flush against him.

Your body grows stiff in surprise, a pink blush rushing to your cheeks, “What… are you doing?”

“What?” he mumbles, resting his chin on top of your head as if this was the most natural thing in the world, “Not allowed to do something nice? Quit complaining.”

You can hear that signature smirk in his voice even without seeing his face, but the warmth radiating from him is undeniable. His arm tightens around your waist to anchor you to him and you could swear that he had heat radiating off of his chest, flooding into your cold skin and seeping through the blanket to chase away the chill that so stubbornly clings to your skin.

Hopefully he can’t hear the way your heart is pounding.

And although you’re grateful for the comforter wrapped around you, you’re silently cursing it for putting a barrier between you and Sukuna. You need more, need him impossibly closer to you, to wrap yourself up in his embrace and tighten your arms around him. You squirm in his grasp to try and free your arms, and an empty cold immediately strikes you when he releases you within a millisecond, parting himself from you and shoving his back into the cushions of the couch.

“Shit, I’m-”

You unintentionally cut him off when you turn around to face him, slinging the deep red comforter over his tensed up body. From this angle you can see his face and he looks… surprised? For the briefest moment you could catch a look of panic in his eyes before he settled, eyes widened and his mouth dropped open into a small oh. As if he wasn’t the one who started this, but he’s silent as his apology is caught in his throat.

You tilt your head down and grip your fingers onto his waist, attempting to pull him back to you, “Why are you all the way over there? Come back.”

It takes him a moment, like he's trying to process what you'd said, before he shifts closer to press his body firmly against yours. You bury your head into the warmth of his chest where you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and your thigh finds a comfortable space to slot between his legs. His arms wrap around you again, but this time he holds you closer like he's trying to keep you locked against him, caging you against his strong torso in a way that feels almost possessive.

But it's so nice, the protective hold in his arms feels so warm and comfortable; and not just because of the temperature difference. You'd be lying if you said you'd never imagined yourself wrapped up with him, but never in any of your guilty daydreams did it ever feel so intimate. You and Sukuna have never been quite this close to each other, usually sharing nothing more than passive aggressive elbow jabs while trying to share the bathroom sink in the mornings, or maybe the occasional moment where he'll grab your hand in his when he sees you're about to trip and his touch lingers just a little too long.

But now you’re wrapped up in him, the smell of cologne on his neck embracing your senses with a warm woody scent, the heat of his body dripping onto your skin until your shivers finally come to a stop. Your racing heart slows to a steady pace and you let your eyes fall shut for a while, enjoying the peaceful quiet sounds of his breathing and his steady heartbeat.

The two of you stay like that for what feels like an eternity, the silence broken only by the occasional creak of the old apartment and the distant hum of wind outside. Sukuna’s warmth envelops you completely, seeping into your chilled bones in a way that no blanket ever could.

“Better now?” His voice is low, almost a rumble in his chest, and you feel the vibrations against your cheek where it rests against him.

“Much.” You admit quietly, your breath tickling his neck.

“Good. Maybe now you won’t freeze to death.” He mutters, but there’s no bite to his words. His tone is softer, almost fond, and his hand begins to draw lazy circles over your back.

You glance up at him, his face just inches from yours. His crimson eyes are half-lidded, his usual smirk softened into something gentler. You rarely see him like this, but lately you’ve been witnessing it more and more; he’s relaxed, unguarded. It’s a side of him that’s both unfamiliar and heart-achingly endearing.

“You’re awfully cozy for someone who didn’t want to be touched.” You tease, tilting your head slightly to study his reaction.

He scoffs, his cheeks darkening just enough to make you wonder if he’s blushing, “Yeah, well, I didn’t think you’d be this pathetic about it. Consider it a favor.”

“A favor?” You raise a brow, unable to hide your amused grin.

“Yeah. Don’t get used to it,” he grumbles, though his arm tightens around you ever so slightly.

Despite his words, you can feel the contradiction in the way he holds you, his grip firm and unyielding as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away. And you can’t help but wrap your arms around him tighter, hoping this so called favor doesn’t have to end.

“You’re warm.” You mumble, almost to yourself.

“Don’t get all sentimental on me,” His voice is a low warning, but it lacks any real edge.

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, and for a moment, neither of you says a word. The air feels heavy, charged with something unspoken yet undeniable. His eyes flicker down to your lips for the briefest second, and your breath catches in your throat.

“You’re staring.” He mumbles, but he doesn’t look away.

“So are you.” You whisper softly.

The tension between you grows, fragile yet electric, until finally, he huffs and shifts his gaze away, breaking the spell, “Go to sleep, idiot. You’ll need it for when the landlord shows up tomorrow.”

Despite the abrupt shift, his tone carries no real harshness, and the arm around your waist stays securely in place. You press your cheek against his chest once more, unable to resist a small smile.

“Fine.” You whisper, closing your eyes and letting yourself relax fully into his warmth.

He doesn’t say anything, but the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear is answer enough. Whatever this moment between the two of you is, you’ll take it for now, tucked in his arms as the cold world outside fades away.

A/N: Merry Christmas to those who celebrate!! And thank you to everyone who has been so kind and supportive and patient with me during my writers block <3 I don’t think I’m fully back quite yet but I’ve made massive progress and I’m hopeful that I’ll be writing regularly again soon :) Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

[hurlingdown]

☆ THE PLAYHOUSE

# you can find all of my fics & drabbles here. some works contain dark content and sensitive themes. please read the tags before proceeding. all top!reader. special events: kinktober ‘24!

ONE PIECE

monkey d. luffy

eat you up: you find out about your perverted captain's love for your huge size.

dress to impress: ‘cause i’m a freak for sexy lingerie . . .

roronoa zoro

need you: a drunk, needy zoro seduces you into fucking him.

how to break a monster: cock so big it got his stomach bulgin'!

hungry work: you're hungry for him, in more ways than one.

backyard bunny (kinktober): guess he's your bunny now.

dress to impress: ‘cause i’m a freak for sexy lingerie . . .

vinsmoke sanji

i want more!: you eat the brattiness out of his sore pussy.

pervert! sanji (drabble): you catch him masturbating to your underwear.

portgas d. ace

make me feel good: he wants to make you feel good. you'll gladly return the favour. ftm! reader.

dress to impress: ‘cause i’m a freak for sexy lingerie . . .

trafalgar d. water law

burn, baby, burn: omega! law goes into heat after catching a whiff of your scent - it's up to you to satisfy him now.

let my fingers do the talking: fingering his pussy in public.

trickle: you wake up to your pregnant mate riding you.

dress to impress: ‘cause i’m a freak for sexy lingerie . . .

dracule mihawk

distraction: he needs a distraction. you're happy to give him one.

donquixote doflamingo

crime and punishment: he was your master, but now he's just your plaything.

the omega! series (mini thirsts)

omega! luffy omega! zoro omega! law: your needy, pathetic omega mates.

JUJUTSU KAISEN

gojo satoru

stranger! reader + afab! satoru series: somnophilia exhibitionism

hot demon b!tches near u!!! (kinktober): your roommates? more like your sluts.

how to make gojo satoru squirt (drabble).

baby, fervour!: getting baby-fevered on new years night might just be the best way to spend it.

nanami kento

fuck you like an animal (kinktober): you're a werewolf exposed to the full moon. and he's your mate.

geto suguru

hot demon b!tches near u!!! (kinktober): your roommates? more like your sluts.

baby, fervour!: getting baby-fevered on new years night might just be the best way to spend it.

deal with the devil: in exchange for being the only one you'll ever fuck, he promises to become your personal whore.

toji fushiguro

gun play (drabble): you’re a mafia boss, and he’s a spy sent out to honey trap you.

baby, fervour!: getting baby-fevered on new years night might just be the best way to spend it.

ryomen sukuna

with my hands around your throat: he'll never admit it, but he likes it when you make him beg for your cock.

beast feast (kinktober): in another life, they only knew you as his guard dog. in this one, he's yours to own.

baby, fervour!: getting baby-fevered on new years night might just be the best way to spend it.

ARCANE

jayce, vander, silco, viktor

the bad touch: featuring shameless, rough sex with the arcane men.

THIRSTS / DRABBLES

cunnilingus monsterfucking feminization baby fever riding

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

as long as he leads the way . .

katsuki's childhood habits remain the same

katsuki still apologizes to you the same way he used to when you were kids.

he always makes a face whenever he knows he’s gone too far or when he’s done something he knows he shouldn’t have, his eyebrows are furrowed and his little chubby face contorts into a sad little pout. he tries to look tough but he can already feel guilty tears in his eyes so he looks away from you, little hands balled into fists at his sides and his head hangs low so you can’t see his red face through his bangs.

usually, he tries making it up to you by showing you something he thinks you’ll like or something he finds cool, and sometimes he’ll even let you hold his precious all might card, but only when he knows he really messed up. he’ll stiffly pet your head as an apology for pulling at your hair a little too hard earlier and if you ask him to he’ll kiss the pain away from when you scrapped your knee because he accidentally shoved you a little harder than he meant to when he was chasing you around.

but when you’re mad at him because he’s been really mean, in ways he knows his shiny holographic all might card won’t fix, he opts to simply sit next to you. with a little pout on his face and with his cheeks turning red, he’ll shove his head into your shoulder. he holds onto you tightly so he’s sure you won’t be able to escape him or his apology. you squirm around a little bit but he doesn’t let you go. you stop moving around but you still huff at him, calling him a big meanie. all he does in response is shoving his head against your shoulder and he mutters out a little "m’sorry." against it.

he hears you shuffle to look at him and he looks up at you, his eyebrows are still furrowed and his cheeks are so red because he’s really not used to apologizing and he doesn’t like to, but he does for you. and even at the tender age of seven, you really can’t stay mad at him when he looks like that, so you forgive him and you’ve already forgotten what you were even mad about when he grins at you boyishly, already back to his usual self as he drags you off to your next adventure who knows where, but even at the tender age of seven, you knew you’d follow him to the ends of the earth as long as he led the way.

he’s changed so much and not at all at the same time. he hates it whenever you get mad at him and he still does everything and anything to get your attention when you are. and just like before, whenever he hurts you in ways he knows his actions can’t fix, he opts to come up behind you and wrap his arms around your middle loosely, giving you the option to break out of his hold if you wanted to. his hold on you slowly tightens when you make no move to, his head is shoved into the crook of your neck and his chest is pressed flush against your back,“ i’m sorry.” he whispers.

it wouldn’t mean much if it came from anyone else but this is katsuki. you’ve known him for as long as you can remember, you know how he is : he’s unruly, headstrong and so stubborn it drives you crazy sometimes. but he casts all of that—all of him aside for you.

“i’m sorry.” he says again, his voice is low and a little shaky.“ shouldn’t have said all that to you. that wasn’t…cool” he fumbles around for the right words to say and you have to hold back a laugh as he does so, but you can tell he’s trying.“never wanna make ya mad at me..” he finishes quietly. he’s fiddling around with the ends of your shirt waiting for your response. then he hears you shuffle around to peek at him and he looks up at you.

he really hasn’t changed. he’s still got the same little frown, the same little crease between his brows and the same rosy cheeks. sure his features are less rounded, his cheeks are definitely less chubby, he’s gotten taller but he’s still your same katsuki who’s a little rough and a big meanie sometimes, but who also always makes sure to apologize to you when he knows he’s hurt you because that’s the last thing he wants.

you grant him a tiny smile. his eyes light up and he stands a little straighter and after a second he’s on you, pressing kisses all over your cheek, grinning boyishly at you and you still want to follow him to the ends of the world as long as he’s leading the way.

[poohbea]

guys… i have aunty fever.

okay but like imagine being married to or dating sukuna, right? and the first time he introduces you to baby/toddler yuuji he becomes your best friend. never wants to leave your arms, always loves cuddles, will be your shadow while you’re doing things round the house. you’re attached at the hip from that very first moment.

and kuna both loves and hates it 😭. loves it mostly because he doesn’t have to deal with yuuji’s shenanigans all day. hates it because whenever he tries to kiss you or offer any sort of affection, yuuji comes running to put himself between you both with the grumpiest frown ever 🤣. he’ll mumble out something like “no, my aunty.” and hug your leg while trying to push his uncle away.

it’s a constant battle, especially because yuuji takes up all of kuna’s you-time 😂. watching a movie? yuuji’s there using your lap as a headrest. taking a nap? yuuji’s nestled right up against your chest. cooking in the kitchen? you’ve got yuuji perched on your hip or up in the baby wrap/baby sling. and kuna would swear up and down that yuuji — the sweet darling angel that he is — knows exactly what he’s doing. swears that he’s got some sinister plan to steal you away — he’s joking, mostly.

he should honestly be blaming himself because he’s been terrorising his nephew since he was born. his latest stunt? he found an old halloween mask that’d been sitting in the back of y’all’s closet since last year, put it on and decided to chase yuuji around the house with it.

“i’m gonna eat you!” is what you hear before a very distressed little human comes sprinting around the corner screaming, his uncle in tow. and so yuuji races to hide behind you, arms hooking between your legs for safety even as he’s still crying. but still kuna tries to reach for him and so you have to step in and unmask your monster of a man to save your hearing.

i think the other thing is how much you spoil yuuji. like cute little aunty (uncle can come too) and nephew dates. you’d be twinning with your outfits sometimes. go out to the zoo. the park. ice cream. the beach. the aquarium. sometimes kuna questions who’s child that really is — yours or his brother’s? — with how much time the two of you spend together.

it probably secretly gives him baby fever. if you’re this good with his nephew then he can only imagine how it would all go with a baby of your own.

he wants to see it one day. when you’re both ready.

[starrystevie]

it was all supposed to be a dumb joke.

the boys had been sitting around after rehearsal one night passing a bowl and more than a few beers, laughing about how unsuccessful the newest music based social media app would be. mere seconds of songs looping over and over with other songs mixed in would never work, especially for corroded coffin where the story, the buildup of their songs was part of the reason to listen.

it all started with jeff, grinning slowly ear to ear. "what if were to get in there and take some celebrity's name for a user name? like paris hilton or something."

then it moved to gareth, who paused with a scrunched up face. "dude, paris hilton? what the fuck kind of reference is that..."

then it was over to greg, choking on a smoke-laced laugh. "yeah, it'd be funnier if it was eddie's pop prince loverboy instead."

that got everyone's attention. eddie had protested to ears that didn't want to hear it as they cackled in their studio that they rented by the hour, bent over in their rolling chairs, leaning against the side of the mixing board for support.

"loverboy?! you know i can't stand steve harrington and his bullshit lyrics, what the fuck kind of suggestion is that..."

but come the next day, when the weed had left his system and his veins were alcohol-free, eddie stared at the mixr app home screen and the blinking red circle over his inbox with disdain after successfully acquiring a user name he never would have picked for himself.

'steveharrington', eddie's account says, along with an icon of himself and his tongue out.

if it hadn't been for being less than sober when the app dropped. if it hadn't been for his best friends egging him on with taunts and jeers and kissy noises and less than sincere dreamy calls of 'oh steve' in the background. if it hadn't been for the way that eddie secretly did think about a certain head of floppy hair and soft brown eyes and shoulders littered with constellations.

if it hadn't been for all of that he wouldn't have had the chance to have his celebrity crush, the steve harrington, in his inbox at 8am on a random tuesday morning.

"good morning!" the message says simply enough. eddie stares at the words, trying to process what they mean, looking at the verified username of 'steveharrington1' next to an icon of his most recent album along with it. his inbox is flooded with people all asking him random things, thinking he's the real steve harrington, but this one verified account has him shaking.

for all that eddie is, all big hair and black jeans and skull rings and leather, he's still a man. a man who can look at a pop star, annoying as their music may be, and see charm. he can see attractiveness. he can see that smile that steve harrington has perfected behind his eyelids and he can see them strolling off into the sunset together hand in hand and he can see steve all flushed and breathing heavily underneath him on a mountain of plush pillows and he can see-

the message pings again with a new addition. "i know this seems weird and my team advised against it but i'd really like your user name of... well, my name."

eddie blinks slowly. he pictures steve maybe laying in bed, maybe sitting at the breakfast table with a cup of coffee, with his phone in his hand as he types out a message to him. to think that steve has any idea about him existing on any sort of level is doing his head in. his heartbeat races a little faster as he types back with shaky hands and a pit in his stomach.

"is this real?" is all he can type out, leaning against the kitchen counter as he waits for his coffee to brew.

three dots pull up on the app screen before disappearing and eddie pulls his lip in between his teeth to focus his energy elsewhere. he tears his eyes away from his phone and looks out the window to watch the people out for their morning walks. he's just about to the point where he thinks about maybe taking up walking if nothing else to get all the pent up energy out of him when the app dings again. as he looks back, his heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach.

it's a photo of steve that can't have been released before. he's sitting outside in bright sunshine with sunglasses on, tousled hair and grin on his face. he's holding his hand up in a thumbs up and eddie can see the remnants of cream cheese on the side of his index finger.

he sucks in a stuttering breath through his teeth, trying to force his lungs to breath again. the dots pop up on screen once more and the message that comes through is instantaneous.

"real enough for you?" it reads. and then an additional message is tacked on. "need me to hold up a newspaper with the date on it?"

there's a winky face that follows and it feels fake even though it's very real. this whole morning feels wrong, unreal. he's just eddie munson, some singer in some halfway popular band in some kind of shitty neighborhood in los angeles that just happens to have not just some pop star in his dms. this doesn't happen to him.

"why did your team tell you not to message me? does my reputation precede me?"

eddie pulls his hand up to his mouth to bite at the side of his fingernail, watching the screen with rapt attention and waiting for the typing dots to disappear.

"according to this account your name is steve harrington and yes, i'd say his reputation does precede him."

eddie barks out a laugh, not exactly expecting that.

he didn't know what he was expecting out of any of this. he thought that it might help get the corroded coffin name out more if he got tangled up somehow with the steve harrington name. spark a little bit of drama to boost their visibility. but now here he is, talking to the man himself, cracking jokes and trying not to hyperventilate.

"how were you able to get this name so fast anyway? my team was on it right when the app dropped last night."

"i had the power of bandmates and weed on my side," he types back, side of his mouth quirking up into a smile.

"oh so you're a musician? maybe i should be looking into your reputation then, mystery person."

eddie pauses and thinks about every option. he is semi-known in the metal scene, his outlandish stunts on stage and political speeches at shows that garner them becoming an almost brand for him. if he tells steve who he is, would he know? care? run away from the scary guy who may or may not use stage blood in every music video?

but the thing is, he's not a scary guy and he never has been. he might be a little intimidating and he guesses that's the armor he puts on everyday after being bullied in school but it's not an accurate showing of who he is. eddie is sweet, funny, kind of smart in that has random fun facts about dungeons and dragons kind of way.

and he wants the steve harrington to know that guy.

eddie flips over at his middle so his head is nearly touching the floor and ruffles his hair, giving it volume and calming down the frizz that comes from sleep. he shakes it out of his face once he's upright and grabs his garfield coffee mug if only to have something to do with his hands. grabbing his phone off the counter, he opens the camera option in their message thread and snaps a quick picture of himself grinning, mug next to his face with a matching cat-like smirk. he nervously presses send before he can even think about all the flaws with it.

"eddie munson at your service," is what he types out with a saluting emoji and a muttered prayer to whoever would listen to him that things don't end horribly.

it's not like he's expecting to sweep steve off his feet. he knows that steve has picture perfect partners, he sees enough internet news to know that gruff and dark isn't the kind of guy he normally goes for. but he looks back at the photo he sent and hopes that steve sees the kindness in his eyes, the scruff on his jawline that makes it look just the smallest bit chiseled, the whimsy and life that he embodies that comes from a tacky coffee cup.

there isn't an automatic answer and it makes whatever hope eddie has floating around his system falter. ''at this point you've probably searched me and i can reassure you, i'm not actually a vampire like google seems to think i am."

"holy shit."

it's short, two words followed by typing dots that disappear, reappear, disappear once more before reappearing for the last time.

"would you believe me if i told you that i am huge fan??"

choking on coffee hurts, eddie finds out. he coughs as the hot liquid goes down the wrong pipe and concentrates on the messages once he gets his bearings back. steve, the steve harrington, a fan of his? it's a prank, it has to be, there is no way that steve harrington-

"one of my exes took me to your show at the bowl and it quite possibly changed my life. you gave that speech about the pipeline before the encore and i went home and bought every single one of your albums that same night."

he's dead. the papers will read 'eddie munson found dead in his home in a ratty metallica shirt holding onto a garfield coffee mug and cellphone open to a chat where steve harrington tells him he's a fan of his work'. it's the only way that this is possibly happening. he's died and gone to whatever fucked up version of heaven has him still living in his shitty la apartment.

"are you fucking kidding me?" is what he types back, slamming his coffee mug onto the counter to have access to both hands. "you've heard my stuff?"

and then it happens, like out of a shitty teenage rom-com, his phone is lighting up with an in-app call from steve harrington. the steve harrington. careful not to drop his phone in his hurried movements, he presses accept faster than he thinks his fingers have every worked.

"hello?" he questions into the phone and there's no hello back, just steve apparently freaking out as much as he is.

"i hope this is okay," he says and god, does his voice sound wonderful over the phone like this. "but it's faster and i have too many things to say that typing it all out would be stupid."

eddie grins and his feet tap against the ground like an excited kid. "it's fine, i uhm... i get it. god, this is weird."

steve hums in agreement before laughing. and oh, that laugh. it has eddie floating up to cloud nine, heart thumping painfully in his chest, butterflies beating their wings wildly in his stomach.

"yeah, it's definitely not how i expected this morning to go. talking to eddie munson, wow."

"sure," eddie snorts, "you talk to celebrities all the time, i'm sure this is small fish for you."

he hears steve laugh again, soft and gentle, like it's meant just for eddie. "i might talk to celebrities all the times but not ones that i have posters on my wall of like a pre-teen. i'm properly geeking out right now."

eddie short circuits. that's the only way to explain the way his body shuts down as he slumps into an armchair in the living room.

"you, steve harrington, have posters of me on your bedroom wall?" eddie's mouth feels dry as he talks and regrets making coffee at all because he's wide awake now and feels jittery.

"well okay, to be fair, it's of the whole band and it's in my studio but you are shirtless so i contemplated putting it in my bedroom." something shifts on the other end of the line and it sounds like steve sitting down. there's birds chirping in the background and eddie closes his eyes to picture himself sitting with steve on a patio instead of in his dingy apartment.

"you're gonna give me big head, pretty boy." the pet name slips out before he can stop it and the pitch of his voice lowering is out of his control. eddie can't be held responsible for his actions at 8am especially when he's flirting over the phone with his celebrity crush.

"pretty boy, hmm?" steve murmurs back. "so does that mean you have posters of me too?"

the timbre of his voice shoots from eddie's ears all the way down to his toes, lighting his veins on fire as it travels down his body. the hopeful part of his brain supplies an image of steve smirking, relaxing in a pool chair outside of what must be a mansion, phone in one hand and cup of coffee in the other. it could be domestic, if eddie thinks about it hard enough. if he wants it enough.

and god, does he want that. domestic bliss with steve harrington.

"well i wouldn't exactly call picturing you in my dreams every night posters, but it's close enough i guess."

it's gutsy, it's brash, it's too forward for a tuesday morning but steve started it. he hears a shaky exhale on the other end of the line and lets out a chuckle. it feels like they're playing chess and there's no clear cut winner quite yet but if the match ends in a tie, eddie can't exactly say he'd be upset about it.

"i tell you what," steve says in an almost airy voice. "in exchange for giving me my user name, i'll give you my number and you can use it to see me in something other than your dreams tonight."

"...are you bribing me, harrington?"

"is it working?"

eddie takes in a deep breath and thinks about what possible plans he could have with the username 'steveharrington' that would amount to something better than taking the man himself out on a date with his phone number saved as a contact in his phone. he'd put a heart next to it and everything.

"of course it is."

the call drops away and it's quick enough for eddie to think everything that happened in the last 30 minutes could have been a fever dream but then there's three dots on the message thread and his hopeful heart starts to kick back into gear.

"213-555-5469. let me know when you've given up that username and i'll let you know when to pick me up. it's a win-win all around. turns out we each get to go a date with our celebrity crushes, how lucky is that?"

it's signed with a kissing face emoji and eddie's glad that he's sitting down when the last picture steve sends comes through. he's grinning in a way eddie's never seen before, blush high on his cheeks, sweaty shoulders and collarbones and pecs glinting in the early morning sun, and eddie thinks it's probably too early to be in love with someone but he's well on his way.

he texts the number he's sent without hesitation and without shaking hands this time. he signs the message with a black heart like it's a signature of it's own.

"lucky indeed."

[zephyrchama]

Raphael is a modest guy. Especially in comparison to the seven brothers, who will seize any opportunity to flaunt their charm points off to their human.

He prefers to settle things with magical spears instead of fists, so once you get used to hanging around him, it gets easy to overlook the way his daily wear highlights his biceps. His outfit hardly changes. What first was an impressive sight becomes mundane, just another part of who Raphael is.

Except when he's getting ready to embroider. The start of each new sewing project is a rare and unpredictable gun show.

The silent, unassuming angel takes his fabric and lines it up neatly in his embroidery hoop. He takes his time aligning both circular pieces of wood, then starts to tighten the screw at the top. He wants the thread tension to be even and for the fabric to not slip while working, so he has to really ensure everything is as tight as possible.

Raphael's muscles go on full display for a hot minute whenever he's tightening that embroidery hoop screw. His face is stoic, full of the same serious concentration he pays all of his actions.He flexes his arms and the black fabric covering them starts bulging. He may let out a quiet grunt. He pulls the fabric so taut, you could beat on it like a drum and it would stay perfectly in place.

Sometimes part of the hoop slips or gets misaligned during the process, and he has to start all over. You don't mind. You're too busy admiring the way his abdominal muscles ripple each time he twists the screw. He really puts his core into it.

[eddiesghxst]

best friend!reader x best friend!steddie and shes telling them how she doesnt know how to give head so they teach her🥹

HELLO I SCREAMED. YES A MILLION TIMES.

(sorry for any mistakes it’s 2 am and i didn’t proofread oops)

18+ — MINORS DNI

————

Steve should’ve known Eddie was cooking something up whilst you were explaining your dilemma. He should’ve seen it coming, but he was too busy listening to you ramble about how you’re scared to give a blowjob because you’ve never done it— scared about what movements feel good and how to be conscious of your teeth (you’ve heard that men complain about that a lot).

He was being a nice friend, consoling you and trying his best to assure you that you’re just overthinking and when the time comes, you won’t be as bad as you think you’ll be.

And Steve was so occupied with you that you both seemed to have forgotten the little devil sitting on the opposite side of you until he spoke up, tone suggestive with a glint in his eyes that made you what to squirm, “What if we just showed you how to do it?”

So now, Steve’s jeans are pooled around his ankles and his shirt is rucked up his chest as you and Eddie kneel before him. Steve’s not exactly sure why he was chosen to be the demonstration model, but he can’t find it in him to complain— especially not when your warm hands are slowly jerking him off in a toe-curling way that has him nearly seeing god.

Eddie’s hand rests over your hand, gently guiding your sinful movements and the scene causes Steve’s eyes to roll with a string of curses falling from his tongue. Eddie smirks at the sight, “Feels good, big boy?”

“Y-yeah… fuck, I don’t wanna cum before she has a chance. Hurry up, Munson.”

Eddie laughs and rolls his eyes before turning to you, “Okay sweetheart, Stevie here can’t take much more of your teasing so we’re gonna have to move onto the next step. Consider that a compliment.” He winks and you preen.

Eddie’s fist is gently stroking Steve’s cock as he speaks, “It’s easy, really. You can start out with a few licks and kisses, but overall, just imagine you’re sucking a popsicle.” Eddie leans forward, hand still stroking the throbbing cock as he licks at the tip a few times before pressing a few kisses to the underside of Steve’s cock.

Steve’s thighs tense, breath stuttering at Eddie’s teasing touches. Eddie’s lips close around the tip of Steve and he gently suckles, lapping up the bit of precum and humming at the taste. As Eddie sinks lower, Steve moans, a curse falling from his lips. Eddie sucks him off for a little bit before he pulls off with an approving hum, smirking at Steve’s disheveled state and the sight of your intrigued expression.

“Wanna try, sweetheart?” He asks. You quickly nod and he shuffles to the side to make room for you. You eagerly grasp Steve’s wet cock, stroking a few times as Eddie had beforehand. You lean forward to mouth at Steve’s cock, but you hesitate last second, glancing over at Eddie for an approving nod which he quickly gives.

You lean in, alternating between sloppy kisses and wet licks up his cock. You keep going until Steve’s hand reaches up to hold your head, resting there in an encouraging manner. You wrap your lips around his tip and suck, just like Eddie, slowly moving down the length of Steve. You can hear Steve’s bated breathing and Eddie’s soft praise, “Good girl, you’re taking him so well, princess.” His ringed hand rubs soothing circles against your back.

You don’t see it, but Steve can clearly see Eddie’s other hand sink to his own crotch, softly pressing against the hard tent beneath his jeans. You moan, pushing forward as far as you comfortably can, shuffling on your knees as you begin to bob your head up and down the length.

“How’s she feel, Harrington?” Eddie asks, gaze flickering up to the other curly-haired boy. “Fuck— good, she’s really good… i’m gonna cum, pull off.”

Your wide eyes flicker up to Steve’s face, watching as his features twist in pleasure. Eddie gently tugs your hair, silently ordering you to pull off of Steve’s dick. You release him from your mouth with a sinful pop, continuing your slow strokes as you look at Eddie, chest heaving in excitement and lack of air.

“I-I wanna taste.” You admit. Steve curses, a curled fist rising to his forehead as he tries to ground himself from the words you’ve just said. Eddie smirks, “Yeah? Wanna give it a try, princess?”

You nod and he chuckles, “Go ahead, before Stevie passes out.”

Steve curses at Eddie and you giggle and happily resume your activity. As you continue sucking Steve off, Eddie sneaks a hand in between you and Steve, gently grasping Steve’s tight balls. Steve moans, gaze snapping towards Eddie’s to see him smirking, “Come on, Harrington, you gonna keep our girl waiting?”

And Steve sure as hell isn’t, he’s blowing his load the second Eddie asks, moaning and cursing as he empties himself into the wet heat of your mouth.

You take as much as you can before you pull away, sputtering for air and coughing at what little cum you’d choked on and Eddie softly laugh, rubbing soothing circles across your back as Steve strokes himself off for the last few ropes of cum left in him.

“Did… was that any good?” You ask, wide eyes darting between the two boys. Steve scoffs out a laugh, “Yeah, sweetheart, that was fucking insane.”

You giggle in excitement and Eddie smiles. Steve stokes his sensitive cock once and moans before nodding at the two of you, “Now, why don’t you show Eddie what you learned, hm?”

[ylangelegy]

like real people do ☢️ seungcheol x reader.

little is known about the apocalypse of 2017. a century later, archivists are now unveiling the relics they found from those who lived through that time.

★ seungcheol x reader.  ★ word count: 2.1k ★ genre: alternate universe: apocalypse, alternate universe: soulmates (the only way for your scars to disappear is when your soulmate kisses them goodbye), angst, romance. ★ warnings: major character death. depictions of death/violence, injuries/scars. established relationship; suggestive scenes but no real smut. set in a fictional apocalyptic world. doubling down on the angst warning; i cannot say with any certainty that this is a happy ending. ★ footnotes: this is part of my follower milestone event. viv gave me an inch (a request for angsty seungcheol) and, in turn, i am giving her a mile (a whole thing instead of just a ficlet). mahal kita, @heartepub! this will be the last hozier brainrot i offer you— for now. + much thanks to @gyubakeries and @tusswrites for beta reading! love you both to the end of the world. ❤️‍🩹

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺ like real people do by hozier. apocalypse by cigarettes after sex. i know the end by phoebe bridgers. fourth of july by sufjan stevens. interlude: i’m not angry anymore by paramore. atlantis by seafret. end of beginning by djo. nobody’s soldier by hozier.

When the fish started dying, you did not think: This is how the world will end.

Why would you? The decimation of marine mammals and seabirds didn’t make the news. The misguided scientific breakthrough that triggered everything was kept under wraps.

It isn’t until much later, until the damage is irreparable and the Rapture is imminent, that you will realize it. 

The world as you know it is ending— but at least you have Seungcheol.

There’s some cruelty in the timing of it all. The two of you had just moved in with each other, coasting on the honeymoon phase of a long-term couple with a new thing to share. The paint on your apartment’s walls had yet to dry when the government declared a state of national emergency.

Dozens of other countries followed suit not long after, all blaming one thing or the other. Food crises. Social unrest. Cultural collapse. 

“This is crazy,” Seungcheol grumbles. 

The television is playing clips of a hurricane tearing through the Philippines. Extreme weather conditions, the reporters are saying. Due to the rise of CO₂ levels. 

You and Seungcheol are sprawled out on the floor, watching it unfold. The furniture store meant to deliver your couch has delayed shipment until further notice. 

Seungcheol has always been the sulky type, though the expression on his face nowadays has been less of his trademark pout and more of a serious frown. You can feel his growing agitation in the stiff way he holds you, in the set of his eyebrows. 

“It’s crazy,” you agree quietly, resting your hand on his knee in a bid to calm him a bit. “But it’ll pass.” 

Your touch seems to give some sort of reprieve. He rolls his shoulders. He unclenches his jaw. 

“It’ll pass,” he echoes, reaching out to intertwine your fingers. 

Neither of you knew just how wrong you could be. 

April 8, 2017 

Weird times. Cheol knows just how anxious I get when I’m cooped up, so he encouraged me to pick up journaling. I’m not sure how much this will help, but it’s worth a try. 

It’s been a month since everything has essentially gone on ‘lockdown’. The news says that all of this started because researchers wanted to regulate harmful algae. Their genetically engineered virus ended up infecting all algae, and now the majority of phytoplankton are just... dead. 

I don’t know what to write about. Terrible oxygen levels? Seafood costing a fortune? This ‘work from home’ system everyone is trying to figure out? 

I guess I should just write about the good stuff. That way, when I look back on these entries, I can remember something good.

Today, Cheol tried to fix a leaking faucet himself instead of calling for a plumber. We flooded the kitchen floor, and ended up wet from head to toe.

I cooked pasta, called mom and dad on Skype, and watched the latest episode of Santa Clarita Diet. 

Once everything opens up again, Cheol and I have to visit my parents. (And ‘get better screwdrivers’, he claims.) 

When Seungcheol first kissed you, you did not think: This man is my soulmate. 

It had been a clumsy, shy thing, traded way back when the two of you were high schoolers still stealing away from your eagle-eyed parents. Seungcheol liked to wax poetics about how it was perfect even though you know that first kiss was more a clash of teeth than anything. 

You don’t discover the truth of everything until a couple of years into dating. Seungcheol had gotten into playing basketball, and, one evening, you absentmindedly pressed your lips to a scar he had at the bend of his elbow. 

The mark smoothed out instantly. 

Seungcheol had giggled at the development before spending the rest of the night kissing every inch of your skin that he could reach— injured or not. You still think it’s one of your best memories as a couple. 

Kisses that healed scars. You hadn’t believed in the stories yourself until it had happened to you, until you realized how fortunate you were that your soulmate wasn’t halfway across the world or something. No, you had your soulmate, and he was more than willing to kiss away all your wounds. 

You had counted yourself as lucky. You still think you are, even now, as Seungcheol strokes your hair and holds you to his chest in the pitch black darkness of your apartment. 

His voice is quiet and small when he speaks up. “I’m sorry.” 

“What for?” you mutter back. 

“I’m sure this isn’t what you imagined,” he says. “For us moving in together and everything.” 

An amused snort escapes you. Of course that would be your boyfriend’s concern. There’s the rotational power outages and the merciless prices of goods due to inflation, but Seungcheol is worried about your expectations not being met. 

You shift in his hold. The days have been getting warmer and warmer, and the evenings are no exception. Seungcheol has taken to sleeping shirtless. You’re a couple of celsius away from doing the same. 

“It’s not your fault that we decided to move in together for the end times,” you say into the skin of his bare chest. 

He gives the small of your back a light thwack. “What have I said about the apocalypse jokes?” he chides lightly. 

You roll your eyes. He shouldn’t see it in the darkness, but he knows you all too well. “And don’t roll your eyes at me!”

His reprimand draws a short laugh from you. Even that feels like a monumental effort, like it's a waste of good air. 

Seungcheol doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about the two of you waking up in pools of your own sweat, doesn’t care that there are whole government newscasts on how to preserve oxygen in enclosed spaces. 

He holds you like a lifeline and kisses you until you’re breathless. 

“Cheol,” you whine against his mouth, the protest already at the tip of your tongue. The end is near; sex should be the last thing on your mind. 

But then Seungcheol’s fingers toy with the hem of your shirt, and he sounds so, so sweet when he mumbles, “Yes, soulmate?” 

That’s always gotten to you. 

“Unfair,” you groan as you work on shucking off your own clothes. “You’re so unfair.” 

In between giggles, he kisses every part of you. Again, and again, and again. 

June 15, 2017 

Cheol and I are on the run. 

He keeps telling me not to call it that because it supposedly makes us sound like criminals. I think it’s just funny, and God knows I need something to find humor in. 

As badly as I want to say “we have gone through worse before,” that would be a lie. We’re out of our apartment and trying to make our way to some place where there’s better air quality. In the meantime, we’re living out of his car. It’s so funny to me that I’ve started laughing until I’m crying. 

Anyway, the good stuff: Today’s sunset painted the sky purple. We snagged some still-cold cans of Sprite in an abandoned 7-Eleven. Cheol spotted a family of ducks crossing the road, pointed it out, and said “us, soon!”

Us, soon. It feels dangerous to hope, but that’s all I seem to do nowadays. That and being on the run. (Cheol made me strike out that last part, but whatever.) 

When Seungcheol finally admits to you that he is scared, you did not think: This means that things are much, much worse than I thought. 

Maybe because there were bigger concerns, like the car’s blinking fuel warning light and the scratches littering Seungcheol’s arms. Like the fool that he was, he had gone against your well-meaning advice to not look for help. 

He did not return unscathed. 

Your lips are pursed in a thin line as you rip open a Band-Aid. It’s one of the few that the two of you have left, and Seungcheol seems to remember the fact. He reaches out to stop you. 

“Hey, c’mon,” he urges, obviously trying to aim for levity. “You know there’s other ways we can fix me up, right?”

The frown that tugs at your lips shows that you’re still less-than-pleased at his little stunt. 

“Maybe if you didn’t head out in the first place,” you grumble. “We wouldn’t need any of this.” 

Seungcheol looks like he might push back, but seems to decide against it at the last minute. Instead, he wraps his fingers around your wrist and gives you a gentle tug. 

“It won’t happen again.” His tone is edged with remorse, enough to almost convince you. Almost. 

“No more playing hero?” you ask. 

A corner of his lip twitches upward. “No more playing hero,” he concedes before tugging at you again. 

You let him. You move closer into his space until you’re practically in his lap, until you’ve got a better view of the angry red cuts on his skin. 

Tentatively, you press chaste kisses to the injuries. Seungcheol’s hands find purchase at your waist and he tilts his head back, letting you work your magic. He’s quiet as your lips trace over each gash and wound, as you take away all the hurt with the ghost of a kiss. 

After a moment, he mumbles, “Is it bad that I want you right now?” 

“Seungcheol.” 

“Okay, okay.” A beat. “I want you all the time, actually.” 

“Shut up!”

The sound of his laughter fills the car. It’s enough to have you forgetting his murmured confession of fear, the vulnerability that he had tried so quickly to cover up with affection. For a moment, there is nothing else in the world except this, except you, except him. 

September 23, 2017

Is it weird to say that I’m starting to forget what it was like before all of this happened? Cheol is trying to assure me that it’s to be expected, that we’ll all be back to ‘normal’ soon, but I don’t even remember what normal is like anymore. 

I can’t forget. I don’t want to forget. And so here is a small list of things I took for granted: 

The first breeze that tells you winter is coming 

The kindness of people who don’t know you 

The smallest fish in the sea

Date nights with Cheol 

Clean water 

Breakfast

My parents

Cheol says there might be some biodomes ahead. Oxygen-regulated habitats. It sounds like something only the rich can afford. We don’t have a lot left between the two of us, and it’s getting harder to jump from building to building. 

But there’s something waiting for us on the other side— right? There has to be. 

May the best of my todays be the worst of my tomorrows. 

When the gunshot rang out, you did not think: This is it.

Seungcheol never gave you any reason to think that way. He had held your hand as you raided rundown grocery stores. He had positioned himself in front of you when there were stampedes. The world might have been ending, but he was with you.

He was with you even when the strangers you ran into started getting more aggressive. He was with you even when fights would break out over necessities like water and medicine. 

“People are dangerous when they're desperate,” he’d tell you softly— still his rational, kind self even when faced with the worst of mankind.

He was with you. He was kind. He was yours. 

Even when the bullet lodged itself right between his ribs. 

There is not much that you remember after that. 

The people dispersed. The cause of the fight— a can of chicken noodle soup, once your comfort food— lay forgotten on the floor.

The love of your life, staring unblinking at the sky.

When you sink to the ground, you’re moving purely on instinct. Your quivering lips press over his chest, over the red blossoming and staining his shirt. 

You kiss him. Again.

And again. 

And again. 

December 1, 2017

The kisses don’t work on bullet wounds. 

▸ Archivist’s note: The following entries are undated and some portions had been redacted/deemed untranscribable. We are led to believe that the author struggled to cope in the aftermath of their soulmate’s death. For posterity, we have still reprinted their final entries.

You’re so unfair. 

I still want you. 

Things I took for granted: ███████, you, ███████, youyouyou. 

What now? 

My love, it’s only a matter of ███████—

▸ Archivist’s note: Nothing follows.

This concludes our transcribed logs. The full collection can be viewed at the National Museum of Remembrance.

It is our deepest regret that the author is unnamed and that they cannot be properly credited. However, we know of two things with certainty. 

We know of a man named Seungcheol, and we know that he was loved. 

[uhohdad]

(18+) ♡König♡ Voiceline Inspired Drabbles

“Who else is with you?”

Jealous!König Shows Ghost Who Reader Belongs To

WARNING: ABUSIVE & NON-CONSENSUAL THEMES

“I can hear them with you, don’t even think about lying.”

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

Your response was meant to sound nonchalant, but it comes out wavered and squeaky. Shaking fingers fidget with the hem of your shirt.

“Who is it?” König demands, but you both know he already knows the answer.

“It’s- it’s just the guys,” You mumble into your phone, shoulders braced and lips pulled back in unease.

“Of course it is. Is Simon there?”

“Who ya talking to, bonnie?” Soap asks, and you give him a panicked push on his chest in an effort to shut him up.

“Come home, right now.”

König’s tone leaves no room for argument. Grit and threatening, it sends a chill down your spine and raises the hairs on your neck.

Your lips part to speak, stammering through your sentence.

“I- I’m not driving, I cant-”

“You have twenty minutes.”

The line cuts off, the phone shaking in your rattling hands as you pull it in front of your face, staring at it with wide eyes.

“Simon,” You utter, “You have to take me home, now, please.”

The car goes silent, the light atmosphere sucked from the car the moment your frantic words cuts through.

“What’s wrong?”

“I- nothing,” You say, eyes darting to the side, “Just-”

You cut yourself off, debating whether or not you should tell the truth, scrambling for an excuse, but your mind draws a blank.

“You have to take me home.”

“Lover boy?” Simon asks.

Your silence confirms his suspicion. You wince, knowing this is being filed in his ever-growing ‘Reasons to Hate König’ folder.

“Simon, please,” Your plead is made of only breath, fingers fidgeting beyond control.

Simon says nothing, the car suffocatingly silent. He continues driving, not so much as activating his turn-signal.

Your voice picks up vigor, the desperation palpable, “Simon- Simon, please. Take me home.”

“No.”

The car sucks in a collective breath, only the hum of the engine filling the taut, awkward air choking you all.

“Simon,” You whine, your eyes pinch shut and your hand rests on your collarbones, “Please.”

Soap raises a brow, lost, “What’s wrong?”

“Lover boy doesn’t like it when our dove has a good time,” Simon answers gruffly.

You unclip your seatbelt, sticking your head in between the two front seats.

“Simon, you have to take me home, now, please.”

He says nothing, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Simon!”

Without thinking, your trembling hand darts out to grab the steering wheel.

“Sit back!” Simon demands, the car swerving in its lane as he bats your hand away.

The sudden harshness in his voice makes you flinch, eyes wide and your hand retracting to your chest. It is not a request between friendly co-workers after hours, it is an order from your Lieutenant.

“Now,” He says, glaring you down in the rearview mirror.

At once you shrink in on yourself, shoulders slouching and eyes fixated on your shoes as you sit back in your seat.

The burn of Soap’s stare is searing, he’s looking for an explanation, but you can’t meet his eyes, too busy swallowing the shame of Ghost’s scolding and the fear of your boyfriend’s fury. Your stomach is twisted in knots, breaths shallow and knee bouncing to expel the nervous energy.

When Simon pulls into the pub’s parking lot, you whip your phone from your pocket as you scramble to order a ride, but Simon snatches your phone from your hands and ignores your objections.

“Simon, please! You don’t know what you’re doing!”

“I’ll handle it,” Simon grits without looking over his shoulder.

He gives you a look piercing enough to make your knees knock together. You swallow, unable to find the strength to argue.

After a few drinks, the energy of the group has relaxed, but you’re still fidgeting, darting your eyes around and trying to keep the beer in your stomach instead of throwing it up from pure nerves.

You freeze when you see him yank open the pub’s door, hard enough he nearly rips it off the hinges. Your heart stops, your mouth parts, wide eyes locked onto him. He scans the pub for a moment before he finds you, wearing those scary, half-lidded, dangerous eyes that bore into you. From across the pub, his stare makes your stomach twist, and you have to stifle the urge to claw your way free from the booth and flee from predator eyes.

König crosses his arms over his chest, and tilts his head at you. An impatient finger taps his opposing bicep. Even from the other side of the noisy room, his message is clear.

‘I’m waiting.’

You swallow and look to the sticky tabletop, both your knees and your voice trembling when you speak.

“I gotta, I gotta run to the bathroom,” you mumble to no one in particular, shimmying awkwardly from the booth.

“König,” You start once in range, “I can explain, please, just let me-”

You cut yourself off with a gasp when he snatches you by the wrist with a crushing grip, forcing you to stumble over your own feet as you’re dragged out of the bar and along the sidewalk.

“König, please- I tried, I swear I tried, Simon just-”

König’s other hand grabs you by the waist with enough strength that bruises are surely to bloom at his fingertips. He ignores your writhing and winces of pain when he pushes you up against the pub’s dingy alleyway, blocking you in with his massive frame. His voice is hissed, his eyes devoid of any emotion other than rage.

“I don’t ever want to hear his name again. You understand me, little one?”

You choke, sputtering and stammering out syllables that will never get flushed out into sentences as his eyes narrow at you. Your body curls in on itself as he towers menacingly over you, his size alone more than enough of a threat to keep you compliant.

You nod, shaky but quick.

“Say it,” He growls.

“I understand,” You answer, just a squeak with words warbled in.

“Good,” He says, but you can tell by his tone he’s still not appeased.

A hardened hand snatches your wrists, pinning them to brick. Another yanks at the waistband of your jeans, ignoring your objections and your squirming legs.

“König, no! Here?” You whisper frantically, head whipping around to search for watchful eyes.

“You had the opportunity to come home. And you chose not to.”

He leaves no room for argument, a boot coming up to step on the pants bunched at your mid thigh, forcing them entirely to the ground when he plants his sole back on the concrete. You obey when he nudges you to suggest you free your ankle, and he wastes no time taking his cock from his pants.

You whimper when he presses himself to your panties, nestling between your lips with a grind.

He laughs, low and sinful in your ear.

“Already fucking wet, schlampe?”

A raspy grunt leaves him as he ruts his swollen cock against your panties.

“Just a little hure, whoring herself out for every man who pays you attention.”

You shiver at the vibration of his words against your chest, the tickle of his breath on your ear.

“Guess I’ll just have to remind you who you belong to.”

With your wrists pinned to the brick above your head, his other hand snatches your jaw with a tight grip. He forces your head to the side, sinking his teeth into the sensitive, exposed flesh of your neck. You can’t help the strangled cry that leaves you, and the hand on your jaw quickly covers your mouth, muffling your wails with his calloused palms as he leaves imprints of his bites on your skin.

He laughs into your slobbered skin, kissing over the tender indents in your flesh.

“Don’t worry little one,” He coos in a sickly sweet voice, “It’ll be over soon.”

Your whimper is stifled by his hand, but he gives your voice back when he reaches down to yank your soaked panties to the side.

“But you still need to learn your lesson, ja?”

He lets out a groan when the tip of his enraged cock swipes along your slick cunt.

“König, please,” You whine on a shaky exhale.

“Sh, sh, sh.”

König grinds between your lips, coating himself in your arousal before lining himself up. He is by no means patient, bullying half of his cock inside of you on his first thrust. Your head lulls forward, sniveling in his hold as your cunt stretches around his greedy cock.

He grunts through clenched teeth, pulling himself from you only to thrust mercilessly back in.

“Take this cock like a good girl,” He grits.

He finds a steady pace, hardly letting you adjust to his size before he’s fucking more of himself into you, your arousal soaking his throbbing cock.

“You want to act like a hure, hm?”

He leans in, letting go of your wrists to pick you up by your thighs, and gives you a stint of particularly brutal thrusts, your tits bouncing degradingly against your ribcage as he fucks you further into the bricks.

He snarls at you.

“Then I’ll treat you like a fucking hure.”

With your hands free, you’re clawing at him, trying to expel the overwhelming sensation of him robbing you of your tight, sensitive cunt. White knuckling his shirt and digging into his chest with your finger nails, pathetic whimpers leaving your lips.

“See? You can barely handle me, hure. You don’t need anyone else.”

You suck in a sharp breath when you hear bootsteps echoing at the end of the alleyway.

Sprung eyes lock with Simon, standing still in his spot, watching you get pounded against the wall.

König laughs, low and truly gut-wrenching. He doesn’t even have to look to know Simon’s there. As soon as he’s aware of his presence König doubles the pace of his thrusts, forcing his entire cock into you and filling you to the brim with each bottom out. His brute cock, his mound slapping against your clit, it turns your moans choppy and unrestrained as you succumb to the pleasure, the pain, the humiliation of knowing your Leuitenant has a front row seat to your punishment, watching König demean you and have his way with you.

You’ve gone entirely limp in his hold, intoxicated and cockdrunk, only able to focus on his ruthless cock ravaging your dripping cunt, the feeling of being stretched and filled, the burning eyes of Simon at the end of the alley.

“Alles meins,” He growls strictly, “Got it? All mine.”

You nod, stuttered moans pouring from your lips without thought. His grip on the back of your thighs tighten painfully in threat.

“Say it.”

“A-All yours!” You cry, lulling your head against the brick in defeat.

The pleasure is building in your lower abdomen, an electric and exponential euphoria taking control of your body, every muscle tensed and shaking.

“Tell your Lieutenant who you belong to.”

You twitch in his hold as he pushes you over the edge, not letting up in the slightest, cruelly abusing your g-spot as he works out every last wave of your overwhelming finish.

“König!”

♡ Jealous!König Makes A Bet With Reader ♡

♡ König Drabble Masterlist ♡

Dividers by the lovely @strangergraphics

[maxlarens]

Max and 10 please <3

10) spooning at night

Despite the soundproofing you’d installed during Covid, you can still hear Max’s pedals going thunk against the walls of the apartment. The sound accompanied by faint chattering, occasional laughter, cries of outrage as he talks to his friends on stream.

He worries sometimes. But you’d tell him if it bothered you— besides, you like hearing sounds of life in the apartment. You’ve not quite adjusted to the sheer square footage of Max’s penthouse apartment yet, even though you’ve lived with him for years. You grew too used to New York apartments where your bedroom, kitchen, and dining room were always piled on top of each other. It’s strange to have so much space, more rooms than you know what to do with.

Anyway, no, the noise doesn’t bother you. You like to hear him enjoying himself, laughing with his friends, doing something that doesn’t have so much pressure attached to it. You don’t like to take him away from that prematurely, even if you’re missing him.

And you are missing him.

It’s the middle of the night. Maybe past midnight now. You’ve got the windows in your bedroom open, letting in the Monaco sea breeze in a futile attempt to cut through the sweltering heat. The overhead fan whirrs above you. Some mindless show you love drones quietly on the TV, casting you in ever changing colours as you twist and turn in the sheets. Trying to keep your mind off things you shouldn’t be worrying about.

You wait a while, watch an episode.

Then you give in to your selfish tendencies and pull up your Discord chat with Max on your phone, sending off a simple message— come to bed?

You put your phone back on the nightstand and try not to smile too wide when you hear the sim rig thunk and thud as Max climbs out of it a few minutes later. His footsteps on the hardwood floors as he stops by the kitchen and then makes his way to the bedroom.

The door creaks open. Max comes inside, stepping quietly as if you’re already asleep.

“Sorry, liefje,” he says softly, before he ducks into the closet to change, “I didn’t mean to keep you up.”

You shake your head even though he can’t see, “You didn’t. I just couldn’t sleep.”

“You should have told me,” he sighs, coming out of the walk in closet wearing the oversized cat shirt you’d bought him and worn sweat-shorts with holes in the waistband, “I don’t mind cutting the stream short, not for you. They will survive without me.”

You hum and nod placatingly, knowing you wouldn’t ever ask him to do that. At least not for something like this. You’d only sent that message tonight because you knew he’d already been on for hours and would be wrapping up soon anyway.

“Got it,” you say, opening your arms and beckoning him to get into bed already.

He sighs again, an exasperated little exhale through his nose, and then climbs under the single sheet you’ve got draped over you. He shuffles into your space, pressing a wet kiss to the side of your chin as you press a kiss into his forehead and adjust your arms around him.

“Where are the cats?”, you ask, while Max busies himself with turning around.

You feel Max shrug. He’s adjusting the sheet so it sits over him perfectly and then fluffing his pillows so his head sits comfortably. You reach out to scratch the back of his neck, with three fingers, the same way you scratch the cats out of habit.

“Jimmy’s sleeping in the spare room,” he says, reaching blindly behind him to catch your shirt and drag you closer, “Dunno where Sassy is.”

“Causing trouble,” you laugh, slotting into place at his back.

You nudge your nose into his shoulder and sling your arm over his waist. Curling it around to press into his stomach. Your legs end up tangled, one of yours bent and hiked on his hip. Later, he’ll nudge it off because it twists the material of his shorts, but he tolerates it until you’re asleep.

“Mm,” he agrees, finding your hand splayed flat on his tummy and intertwining it with his own, “Always.”

[wikiangela]

"I'm going to ask Tommy to marry me." Buck says out of the blue one random evening, sitting in Eddie's living room, spread out in the armchair, sipping a beer, eyes on the TV, where Eddie and Christopher are playing a video game. His tone is even and firm, not even a hint of hesitation, it's not a huge revelation, or even a decision he's made just now. He's been thinking about it for weeks, maybe months. He doesn't know why he says it now, it just slips out - maybe he just needed to talk to his best friend about it.

"Really?" he hears a hint of surprise in Eddie's voice, but when he looks at his best friend, he's still focused on trying to beat his son at the game. He's smiling, sparing a glance at Buck. "That's great, Buck."

"Yeah?" he breathes out, feeling even more settled now. He wasn't nervous, exactly, but still felt kind of like he did when he came out to Eddie. Like he just wanted his best friend to approve, to support him - and he had no doubt he would.

"Of course," Eddie answers easily. "You guys are perfect together, and you love each other, and if you're sure you want to spend the rest of your life with Tommy, yeah, go for it. I'm happy for you," he adds, finally looking at Buck, a soft, genuine smile on his face. Christopher uses this moment to win the game, and Eddie groans at his triumphant yell. "Aw, not fair, Buck distracted me." Both Buck and Chis laugh, while Eddie pouts for a moment, before a smile breaks through anyway.

"Well, I won." Chris shrugs with a grin. "And I think it'd be so cool if you and Tommy get married," he adds, moving his attention to Buck.

"Yeah?" Buck repeats, his smile even wider now. Having two of his favorite people not only really love his partner - Buck's pretty sure Tommy's the first one to spend so much time with all of them together, and it feeling so right - but also approve of Buck wanting to tie him into their family forever.

"Duh, Tommy's the coolest." Chris rolls his eyes. "Better lock him down while you can," he jokes, and Buck gasps in surprise. He's such a teenager.

"Wow, rude. He's not going anywhere." he shakes his head with a laugh. That much he's sure of, for the first time in his life he's not scared of getting left, of his partner getting bored or fed up. He knows Tommy's gonna be right at his side no matter what.

"Not if you put a ring on it." Eddie joins his son's teasing. Laughing, Buck reaches over to the table to pick up a chip from a bowl and throw it at Eddie, who dodges it as it lands somewhere on the couch. "Hey!"

"But seriously, you don't think it's too soon?" Buck asks after a moment, a little bit of nerves seeping into his tone. He's more than sure about wanting to marry Tommy. He's just a little scared that he's gonna freak him out. They have talked about this, about their future, what they want out of this relationship, out of life, but they never really discussed any timelines, and Buck might be a little in his head about this. Hence why he needed to talk to someone about it, probably.

"Buck, you've been together for over a year. Some people get married after less." Eddie raises an eyebrow. "When you know, you know." He shrugs, and Buck releases a breath. Because he does know. He has known for a long time now.

"So you think he'll say yes?" Buck asks, but he knows the answer before Eddie has a chance to roll his eyes with fond exasperation. Tommy loves him. He loves Tommy so much his heart wants to burst out of his chest and live in Tommy's. Tommy is his forever, he's sure of it, and he knows that when he asks, and it's going to be very soon, he'll get a positive answer.

"He'll say yes." Eddie says with a small shake of his head and a wide smile. "Now, two important questions from me: who's gonna be your best man, and do you need help planning and picking out a ring?"