#love them but goddamn my heart strings

[quozy-exists]

ok but is anyone else genuinely DEVASTATED by the good omens s2 ending. like what. no. I wanted them to be happy WHAT DO YOU MEAN 😭

[astralis-ortus]

guess i missed you too much

✱ boyfriend!bc x fem!reader

— that's what being in love does to you.

w.count → 1.2k genre → fluff warning → reader referred to as baby and my love, 2 (two) chatroom screenshots a.n → based on this request! ngl i was like '!!!' as soon as i read the request bc i can just imagine how it would go i'm—ㅠㅠㅠ also, i have an announcement here about requests, commissions, and fanart shop—i would really appreciate it if you'd check it and help a girl out♡ ⋆ see masterlist

to put it simply, chan is dumbfounded.

he's pretty sure he had mentioned to both han and changbin that you're coming here, to seoul, in a exactly week and chan needs to have all the urgent project revisions to be done prior to your arrival. he's absolutely sure the two promised they will only be gone for a little while to get some coffee to wake them up, and chan is now certain that the two are definitely not only heading out to grab those goddamn coffee.

"if you two aren't back here in 5, just know this is your one and only warning," chan muttered through gritted teeth, trying his best not to sound too pissed before sending the voicenote in their '3racha only' groupchat.

it's not that chan didn't understand—he knows he's been pushing both changbin and han more than he usually does, and chan is very much aware that the duo are bound to be a bit more rebellious than usual once they reach their point of exhaustion, but he really is looking forward to the time he's about to spend with you, and he's not about to let anything come and ruin that.

it's been a while since you've last spent a considerable amount of time together with chan. sure, there are stolen dates here and there whenever a holiday would match up and you could take some time off to visit chan's version of paradise (which is unironically everywhere within the bounds of japan) together, but those visits always ends as quickly as it starts and left the two of you with a longer list of regrets by the time you had to let your hands slip away from chan' warmth.

so this time, when you finally were able put your responsibilities on rest for two whole weeks, it didn't take much of a convincing for either you or chan to finalize the dates when you would finally be able to be within each other's reach. chan even went the extra mile to immediately book your flight coming in, though you had to basically threaten him with no video calls for a week if he went through with his other plans to spoil you rotten.

well, you could only hope that chan won't pull any uno reverse card on you once this plan came to an end.

a bell sound from his phone quickly distracts chan from the lines of lyrics he's trying to edit—an action he came to regret when the notification in view were merely a singular line of emojis sent by changbin, consisting of the same teasing faces and a pink ribbon both changbin and han been sending chan for days now on end.

"oh, he's done," chan groaned, head tilted back in annoyance as he threw his poor beanie back at the sofa where changbin was supposed to be seated right now. to be frank, chan didn't understand what changbin has been implying with the string of emojis at all. presumably changbin and han had seen the way chan saved your kakao talk profile—hence the pink ribbon, but why now? exactly when chan's the most sensitive of the topic? the fact that chan couldn't contact you drives him even crazier—you had told him you haven't been feeling well and you'd text him again once you feel better, but that was like, what, an eternity ago? chan didn't want the risk of waking you up either especially with your trip coming up, so…

he's basically helpless.

another set of annoyed groan became chan's initial response when his phone came alive with a new notification. reluctantly grabbing the device, chan was mentally prepared for a text bubble sent by the youngest of the three, containing of the same string of emojis changbin had just sent—only for his heart to jump out of his chest when he saw the pink ribbon next to your name.

before chan could type another reply, his attention were robbed by the knocks on his studio door—which is a little weird considering neither han or changbin would bother, and the fact that it's nearly midnight meant that almost no one that chan knows of should be looking for him around this time of night.

"manager hyung?" chan cautiously called out, instinctively grabbing his discarded beanie before he went to reach for the door. "did you leave something? or are you—"

the words on chan's tongue dissipates soon after the door swung open—but even with the way his eyes just doubled in size, chan still couldn't believe what he's currently seeing right in front of him now.

"hi, my channie," you finally spoke, a wide grin decorating your lightly flushed face from all the adrenaline you've been feeling; and only then, chan seems to wake up from his trance.

"wha—baby?" chan could hear how voice had skipped an octave higher, but he couldn't care less—did he fell asleep? is this a dream? chan had to pinch himself before he even pulled you in his arms, tightly wrapping the giggling mess that you are in his warmth. "you're actually here? wasn't your flight next week? did i got the dates wrong? how—"

"whoa whoa, calm down there, racer," you quickly stopped your boyfriend's wild train of questions, still with your smile plastered across the span of your face—your plan is a massive success.

"it was supposed to be next week," you confirmed, eyes still taking in chan's perplexed face while your brain etched the memory in its hall of fame, "but i miss my boyfriend too much to wait another week, so… i asked for bin and jisung's help to change my plane ticket!"

suddenly, everything that's been happening to chan in the past week just clicked—the time he caught changbin and han meddling with his laptop, the nervous chuckles, the way they become way to secretive with their phones, the phone calls, and those lines of goddamn emojis. it all finally makes sense.

"is that so?" chan shook his head despite the clear view of his dimpled smile, arms tightening around your waist, "so you three little naughty being has been cooking up plans behind my back, that's what you're saying?"

the sound of your sweet laugh fills chan with an overwhelming sense of warmth— you might spend the majority of your year apart from each other, but for chan, it's moment like this that makes all the dark nights of longing seem worth to be worth his patience.

after all, you're everthing chan ever wanted in his life.

"my my," clicking his tongue in faux disappointment, chan gently fixed the strands of hair falling over your eyes—ones ever so tender whenever you fixed your gaze on him, "what am i gonna do with you, hm? you naughty little baby?"

"not sure," you cheekily replied, lightly scrunching your nose the way chan usually does. you're just happy that you're finally in chan's arms again, to hell with any of the 'repercussions' chan might be building in his head for your little misdemeanor.

"but can you kiss me first?" you continued, trying your best to stay nonchalant despite the sudden spike of your heartbeat due to your own silly attempt at being witty and chan's surprised laugh, "i think i need my boyfriend's kiss so i could face my punishments later."

frankly, chan's head is still plagued with tons after tons of questions of your little successful stunt—he can't help it, you're someone he love and cares about after all,

but who is he to deny your sweet little plea?

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[azzibuckets]

do you even love me anymore? [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: quick little blurb based on azzi’s tiktok repost

a/n: yall better not give my any heat for the fact that im so desperate that im getting inspo from tiktok reposts

word count: 700

masterlist

Paige dragged her teeth across Azzi’s collarbone, nipping at her skin and tasting the saltiness of her sweat. In response, Azzi’s grip on Paige’s hair tightened as her breath hitched, her chest heaving in sync with the pants escaping through her parted lips. Paige’s hands trailed down Azzi’s abs, tugging at the strings of Azzi’s shorts, but her hands were gently pushed away.

“What’s wrong?”

“You said we could get Yogurtland.”

Paige dipped her head back down, running her lips along the soft crease of Azzi’s neck. “You’re seriously thinking about yogurt right now?” When Azzi sighed softly and tilted her head to give Paige more access, the blonde smirked, congratulating herself for making Azzi forget about dessert so quickly.

Azzi’s eyes fluttered close. “I want gummy worms this time. And chocolate chips.”

Paige dropped her head onto Azzi’s shoulder and groaned, knowing that she was fighting a losing battle. “Right now?”

“Right now.”

With another exaggerated sugh, Paige dutifully climbed into the front seat. “What are you getting? I might take a bite.”

“You’re not getting your own?” Azzi’s face looked almost wounded.

“Nah, I’m good. I’m still full from dinner.”

“Ugh, fine. We might as we just go home then,” Azzi grumbled, purposefully ignoring Paige’s hand splayed out for hers on the console.

Paige looked in disbelief at the dark haired girl before grabbing her hand and forcefully interlocking their fingers. “Dude, we can still get you your yogurt.”

“I don’t wanna be getting dessert while you’re just watching me.”

“Azzi.”

“I’m not even hungry anymore.”

“Az, you’re being ridiculous.” The fondness in Paige’s voice was evident. When Azzi stayed silent, the older girl shook her head and started the engine. “Okay, I’m driving there anyways.”

Once they parked in front of the white building, Azzi stayed wordless, slumped low in her seat with her arms crossed and looking everywhere but the huge pink Yogurtland sign right in front of them.

“Unbelievable.” Paige reached over and unbuckled Azzi’s seatbelt, trying to prod her into getting out. “You were literally just begging me to get Yogurtland two seconds ago.”

“That was before you broke my heart and called me a fattie,” Azzi said coldly, tapping her nails against the armrest.

“Well, we’re here now, so you might as well get some.”

Azzi sniffed, her nose upturned as she looked away. “Do you even love me anymore?”

“What the fuck?”

“You don’t even wanna get dessert with me. Next thing I know, you’re gonna be saying you don’t want kids with me.”

Paige rested her forehead against the wheel of her car, resisting the urge to bang her head. Goddamn it. “Azzi,” she said slowly. “Would you like me to get yogurt as well?”

Azzi was already out of the car and slamming the door before Paige finished her sentence. “You’re paying!” she yelled as she ran inside the store.

Rolling her eyes, Paige grabbed her wallet and followed her girlfriend inside. Azzi was pumping vanilla yogurt into her bowl by the time Paige walked through the door. The blonde took a furtive look around the mostly empty store before wrapping her arms around the younger girl’s waist and planting a sloppy kiss onto her cheek.

“Ew, Paige,” Azzi complained, wiping her cheek with the sleeve of her sweater.

“What should I get?” Paige asked, even though she already knew she was going to get strawberry because that was Azzi’s second favorite flavor but Azzi would never get it in her own bowl because she hated the way strawberry and vanilla tasted when mixed together.

“I don’t know, anything,” Azzi said dismissively as she moved to the bar of toppings, but Paige smiled when she saw the quick glance she sent to the strawberry dispenser.

Paige pressed a quick kiss to Azzi’s hairline as they walked out, each with a bowl of yogurt. “Happy?” she murmured, nuzzling her nose against her hair.

Azzi nodded, offering a spoonful of her vanilla yogurt for Paige to try. “That’s good,” Paige said, biting back a grin when she saw the wistful glance Azzi sent towards her own bowl. “You want some of mine?”

“I mean, I guess I can try it,” Azzi said nonchalantly.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re dramatic as hell?” Paige said when Azzi finished taking a bite.

“Not my fault when you spoil me.” Azzi said cheekily. “You have no one to blame yourself.”

“My fault? You’re the one who walks around looking like this all the time,” Paige grumbled. She pressed Azzi against the car, hands fisting her shirt. “I should just lock you up in my room and never let you out.”

Azzi brushed her nose against Paige’s, her eyes lighting up with a smile. “Refuse to get dessert with me again and you’ll regret it,” she said, faux sweetness dripping off her words.

“You’re sick.”

[askew-d]

KAGEHINA FICS MASTERLIST

• ⭐️🎖️ jellyfish, by mysterytwin — hinata makes a list of things to do before graduation; and that includes confessing his feelings to kageyama. a wonderful story, so heartwarming. my utmost favorite.

• ⭐️ in transit, by mysecretfanmoments — while riding the bus together, hinata begins to discover about his feelings for kageyama. absolutely lovely.

• dare, by majesticartax — kagehina’s chosen to play a dare in which they end up locked in a room, and, of course, revelations ensue. this one made me scream lots. rated m!

• you know all the strings (and know just how to tug them), by artemisia_hq — 5 + 1 story about kageyama being whipped and can’t say no and hinata saying yes. domestic fluff.

• like always, by artemisia_hq — during their last walk home together, hinata becomes aware of his feelings and decides to do something about it. short story, yet so cute!

• ⭐️ i wanna know you, and i wanna love you, by momochai — kagehina go on a day together, or better yet, a date; even though they’re not quite aware of it. i was dying throughout all of this, outstanding!

• you’re grabbing my hands like they’re handbars, by mountains_6 — basically tsukishima being a third wheel when the three of them travel to rio, based on the extra bit of the manga, lol. short and endearing.

• 🎖️ a hundred or so hellos, by iwillstillopenthewindow — kageyama reincarnates over and over and hinata continues dying over and over. angst. a lot of angst. but still goddamn beautiful.

• let me in on the open secret too, by switmikan74 — kageyama doesn’t know that he’s dating hinata, until he gets hints from a shoujo manga. that’s so fitting, definitely worth the read!

• highway verse, series by emleewrites — a pixel cars au that i didn’t think it’d catch me until i read it and had dreams about this fantastic universe.

• ⭐️🎖️ if it wasn’t for you, by halfbloom (diphylleias) — in brazil, hinata learns more about relationships and what it means to have a bond with kageyama. got my heart effortlessly. such a delight.

• ⭐️ one more thing, by marks — it’s tsukishima and yamaguchi’s wedding, and kageyama and hinata decide to go together. can i please have more of this? sweet stories like this makes my heart melt, i swear.

• 🎖️⭐️ i can do better, by buu — kagehina compete over everything under the sun, and that includes kissing. and some more. in fact, every kagehina fic by this author hits. and this one… made me feel stuff. rated m!

• ⭐️ no angels could beckon me back, by lilacnoctua — heated arguments lead kagehina to heated moments with each other. a hot story with great development. loved every part of it.

• from this day forward, by emleewrites — kageyama tries to propose; it goes as badly as you can expect. so funny, seriously! i could easily recommend every fic by this author too, as well as esselle’s, but i’m gonna list my favorites anyway, so hang on!

• soft serve, by tothemoon — kagehina drives an ice cream truck to help karasuno; as one might expect, feelings are involved in between. summer fic, brings a ton of good emotions!

• 🎖️ famous v-league players make fools of themselves on twitter dot com, by crone_zone — the appearance of one hinata shouyou through the eyes of twitter users. pure comedy and it’s a whole show. gorgeous!

• room to grow, by mysecretfanmoments — things are different in their third year and hinata’s still learning how to deal with it. ah, young love! the best kind.

• raining verse, by emleewrites — kageyama’s cursed to be a kitten, hinata’s the one who finds him. i love a magic realism au, so imagine my happiness while reading this.

• future’s kiss, by mervousmer — kageyama somehow travels to the future for a moment, and hinata’s there, all grown-up. come on, time travels also have my heart! this one’s cute as hell.

• ⭐️ dethroned, by setkia — kageyama counts his victories and losses against hinata in his mind. what a gem! short and fabulously creative.

• saffron and cayenne pepper, by dontsaycrazy — neighbours kagehina: one only knows how to set the kitchen on fire and the other one’s actually a chef, what could work between them? everything, that’s the answer. a hit!

• on quarantining together…, series by winterey — social media kagehina making lives while on quarantine. fun and addictive!

• conflict of interest, by zukushou — more of social media kagehina, this time with journalists thinking they’re rivals when they’re actually… yknow *gay for each other*. just everything i’d ever want for them.

• ⭐️ with suds in your eyes (and a smile on your lips), by hqkrys — established relationship kagehina take a messy shower together. overall just endless fluff, which melts my heart!

• a bento for dr. kageyama, by zukushou — hinata leaves food for his husband and causes gossip at the hospital said husband works in. hahaha, this is definitely terrific.

• the best laid hands, by mysecretfanmoments — kageyama doesn’t even know how to deal with his own romantic life, so it’s best if other people don’t ask for advice. but what if it’s an advice for hinata? you never know :)

• ⭐️ better than firewhiskey, by mysterytwin — hogwarts au with kagehina! someone should definitely find this author by the way and give them a big hug. i want to. they rock.

• chase the light, my love, by thebeaming sun — kageyama planning to propose and earning support of his teammates. established relationship kind of thing that makes me smile.

• hinata and kageyama terrorise a simple interviewer, satorou masashi, series by call_me_j — story told in the form of an interview, including post time-skip kagehina of course. remarkable!

• optical, by kvhottie — kageyama wears glasses; everyone freaks out. do i need to explain more? hella entertaining.

• never doubt i love, by gentle_autumn_rain — jealous hinata thinks kageyama got a boyfriend. he didn’t. love these small misunderstandings that lead to a confession! so good.

• of gentlemen and scoundrels, by mysecretfanmoments — historical au with kageyama as a gentlemen in london and hinata who’s… well, not very much like him. the writing and the sexual tension in this is spectacular!

• ⭐️ save the last dance for me, my prince, by zukushou — prince kageyama and bodyguard hinata, as this fandom deserved. and such a well-developed at that. charming!

• patience, by mistonthelake — surprisingly enough, hinata discovers about kageyama’s crush on him earlier than the man himself. a lesson in being patient.

• wrestle for victory, by emleewrites — after their fateful game, kagehina decides to compete over wrestling. that’s definitely something they’d do and it got me hooked.

• ⭐️ oh we play, in autumn days, by aruariandance — kagehina being silly boys and kageyama getting a phone. is it because he wants to text hinata? that, he’ll never admit. i’d give it a hundred kudos if i could.

• ⭐️ ridiculous, by festivetrickster — yachi has to spend some time with kagehina in their apartment. the way they live just makes me suspicious of their relationship. no, like, this is indeed so ridiculous but i like it so much!

• sunstruck, by orphan account — kageyama gets the help of romero to sort out his relationship with hinata. seeing introverted kageyama slowly but surely trust his teammate and idol with issues like this makes me proud.

• ⭐️ sun above your shoulders, by longleggedgit — even in an universe where they go to different high schools, kagehina meet each other anyway. everything’s delightful here!

• the missing piece, by akaashism (acciomerlin) — kageyama deals with the changes in hinata. just adorable, i giggled a lot.

• the trouble with soulmates, by navybluewings — our sweet cupid hinata’s journey to get soulmates bonds fixed! this au rocks.

• five star review, by emleewrites — hinata’s hired to paint kageyama’s wall and they start a “friendship” out of it. amazing to see this unfold, so nicely done.

• 🎖️ for the best of all possible worlds, by tinygumdrops (curryramyeon) — an au about kagehina’s relationship journey from across countries, including letters. they meet while being apart and we see it unfold. is there anything better than this? majestic!

• at the tip of your nose, by cloesh_scribbles — where kageyama’s obsessed with eskimo kisses and hinata’s obsessed with him. please help me after this, the fluff killed me.

• the video series, by sunnyslipper — kageyama and hinata breaking the internet over and over with their videos. funny and spot on!

• alexa, play waking up in vegas, by attackofthezee (noxlunate) — kageyama and hinata get married accidentally. the thing is, i can totally imagine them doing this. they’re absurd and lovely.

• meat bun is a love language, by icecreamromantic — kageyama decides to confess using meat buns. come on, it’s stupidly perfect!

• slipping through sand, by majesticanna — an au in which kagehina meet in brazil. just so warm, waaah!

• high dose, by akaashism (acciomerlin) — hinata convinces kageyama that, because of a health issue, he needs kisses. i swear, these silly boys will break me. this is excellent.

• why do i feel like it’s (fake) love, by izucaii — hinata and kageyama pretend to be boyfriends while in brazil. a gorgeous fake-relationship story!

• ⭐️ a best man’s worse problems, by villainphilia — tsukishima, the best man for kagehina’s wedding, prepares his speech while reminiscing how the two dumbasses got together. all of this is just marvellous!

• five proposals, by dayoldcupcake — kageyama proposing, hinata saying no. done with the intent of giving me diabetes. chef’s kiss!

• ⭐️ plain as day, by emleewrites — hinata has a low self-esteem and kageyama tries to make him realize how wonderful he is. i died and came back. truly stunning.

• kageyama tobio reads thirst tweets (unedited), by popcornpearl — after making a bet, kageyama reads thirsty tweets and tries not to blush. it’s harder than he expected. rated m!

• i’m lucky to have you, zukushou — the famous “just woke up high in anestesia and i can’t remember my own partner” trope. pure comedy, love this for them.

• ⭐️ the obvious is at eye level (but i might need a step stool), by dr_awkward221 — hinata watching sakusa’s relationship with miya and slowly realizing things about his own his kageyama. i loove this one, it’s unbearably good.

• ⭐️🎖️ let the light out, by uhohshouto — kagehina make a bet in which the other one must ask for something of the loser. kageyama wants a kiss… and then something more. seriously though, i can’t believe this; it’s a wonderful story, so entertaining. rated e!

• epic, by esselle — a surfing au with hinata as an instructor and kageyama as an arrogant professional. this charming scenario surely made my day.

• let’s take this offline, by pas_dautres — office employees kagehina who meet through emails and reports. i had to add this, because it’s nice, surely worth the read.

• 🎖️ these hands of time, these hands of mine, by fireheartaw — kageyama being introspective over their story together and apart. light angst maybe, but the narrative’s so interesting and captivating.

• discordant, by majesticanna — academic rivals kagehina meet again as professors. so short but so sweet!

• 🎖️⭐️ pursuit verse, series by emleewrites — a gambler hinata and an attorney kageyama based on the ace attorney game. never played the game. but the story? deserves to be printed. if you never read it, you need to. hear me out: you need to.

• ⭐️ getting it right, by akaashism (acciormerlin) — play pretend boyfriends for miwa who end up actually having domestic moments and finding out more about their feelings, hehe.

• know you better, by mysterytwin — bakery worker kageyama and spell shop owner hinata in a world of magic! great development and very poetic.

note that this is based on the fics i’ve known since i entered the fandom and that i truly enjoy. either they’re famous or not famous, i’m just adding them here for my future self contentment and for those who, just as me, wanted a full list of kagehina fics upon getting engaged in haikyuu media.

if you think i should add more and if you have recs for me too, i’m accepting them! thank yoou.

last update: 3/3/24

[tired-biscuit]

yuuji’s eyes. that is all. need to stare into his eyes as he cums down my throat

18+ MDNI, fem!reader

i think he’s such a loverboy and is so open about his feelings that he doesn’t mind eye contact at all.

sometimes it’s cute and innocent. like when he looks at you across the table whenever you go out to have dinner because you both felt like dressing up a little that night and enjoying a meal neither of you knows how to cook at home.

he’s still chewing when he tells you how pretty you look in your dress, trying to tone down the rosy blush that’s coating the apples of his cheeks, and you want to punch him in the shoulder and tell him to quit lying even if you just know that he isn’t doing so. after all, every time he looks at you his pupils expand like the goddamn dinner plates you’re eating off of. he’s so in love and his eyes tell you that — it can’t possibly be a ruse.

or when he looks at you with a comforting smile before he brings you in for a hug whenever you’re sad and need to be consoled. he can be a bad listener sometimes, he admits it, but this mere quirk of his lips that causes his eyes to wrinkle slightly at the corners just has the power to immediately make you feel at least a little bit better no matter how bad the situation at hand is.

he looks at you like he sees you, you know? all of you. and what is that if not comfort?

but other times it can be… a bit more twisted, too. like when he’s eating you out for example.

you’re writhing atop the crumpled bed sheets while he goes down on you, back trying to lift from the mattress in a perfect lust-stricken arch, and he just looks up at you. stares right into your very soul, where everything is so tender and vulnerable, with this dazed, pussy drunk gaze that has you feeling hot all over and has you clenching with climax the second his fingers hit that equally as tender and vulnerable spot that’s hiding deep inside you and his tongue eagerly presses against your clit.

or whenever you’re sitting on his lap, riding him. he’s lazily sucking on your nipple while your bodies work that slow rhythm that’s got you both feeling so fucking good; pink cupid’s bow quivering with pleasure around it as he looks up at you from underneath his pretty lashes. his brow is slick with sweat, and it furrows deeply whenever you lift your hips up and slam them down just as deep, taking him as much of his thick length as you possibly can.

he loves this position. secretly loves being used like some kind of boy toy even if he’s well aware that he means much more to you than that. you can feel his cock twitch with excitement whenever the eye contact is made during sex even if he can barely keep his lids from squeezing shut because of how close to cumming he is. his mouth opens as he pulls back to pant and catch his breath to try and stop himself from rutting into you like an animal in heat, a thin string of glimmering saliva still connecting him to you, and it’s like there are literal hearts appearing in the spot where his pupils should be.

he just becomes so stupid and horny and obsessed with you whenever your panties come off… and whenever they don’t, too. this obsession, this love that he harbours for you — it shows itself in his eyes. always.

and he’s so direct with it and brave about it. he’s looked you in the eyes the first time he’s introduced himself to you with that sheepish grin and awkward hello. the first time he’s gathered the courage to ask you out. the first time you’ve slept together. when he said his first i love you, hell, he’ll probably do it even when he says his last.

and speaking of eyes; yuuji’s are so warm. so kind and friendly, charming and full of love — just like he is. sweet honey swirls inside them whenever he smiles and laughs that laugh that makes your tummy tighten with butterflies that just want to drown in the sugary nectar. they make him look like a puppy that you just want to squeeze and hug and kiss until the end of times. they truly are like a window to his soul and heart.

he just… he can make you feel like you’re his dreamgirl whenever he looks at you.

and it’s because you are.

[peachtea-and-paint]

much needed distraction

modern! college ellie williams x reader

your girlfriend has been busy with midterms all week, and you've been missing much more than her company...

cw: 18+ MDNI! established relationship, masturbation, fingering, *oral sex r! and e! receiving, strap, dom!Ellie, sub!reader, breeding kink, dacryphilia if you squint, degradation, aftercare* (*part 2 will feature the strikethrough bits)

AN: This is my very first fic, so please be honest and kind! This is a WIP, so I will be updating w/ part 2 soon if this does well <3

Ellie rubbed the bridge of her nose, leaning back in the chair as far away from her laptop as she could. The lines of text began to blur together, the bright light starting to stab into her eyes. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t write the rest of this goddamn essay. She picked up her phone from the desk, desperate for a distraction. Behind the bolded 2:28 AM was a picture of you laughing in her arms, wearing sunglasses and Ellie’s favorite green sundress that flaunted your curves and was featured in some of her most favorite- yet less than… shareable… memories.

She scrolled through a sea of notifications, having put her phone on silent to try to focus on the essay that was kicking her ass, when her eyes paused on your name. She clicked on the notification banner.

Her heart jumped into her throat. You had sent 11 messages, all unread. Hopefully not time sensitive, she prayed silently. The first text read, “Hey you up?”. She quickly relaxed, smirking. Ellie knew exactly what you wanted, without having to read the other messages. That was something she loved about you: you were always so easy to read. She continued down, seeing an increasingly needy string of texts pile up.

1:30 AM        hey you up?

1:41 AM        baby pleeeeeease i’m so bored

1:48 AM        girl please, i need you

1:49 AM        like… in a biblical way

1:52 AM        ellie baby, i miss you

1:57 AM        sure i can’t tempt you?

1:57 AM        *picture attached*

Her eyes widened, bringing the phone closer to her face. It was needy all right. Ellie’s favorite sight, your face, was not in this particular photo. But she was not sad, as her second favorite sight, your breasts, were. A black lacy bra was covering almost none of you, allowing for Ellie’s eyes to lovingly caress the curves of your chest. Her eyes lingered on dip of your collarbone, remembering the countless hickies left nearby because she loved the soft gasps in her ear whenever she nibbled the sensitive skin.

Warmth started to pool between her legs. A second photo revealed that you were wearing a matching set. Ellie had probably bought this one for you, but to be honest she couldn’t really remember. The ones she would buy you were either ripped or on the floor so fast that she could never really get used to one set.

The third and fourth photos didn’t even gain Ellie’s attention. You seemed to have taken off everything by 2:10 AM, but by this point all she could focus on was the video sitting tantalizingly at the bottom of the text thread. Her hands scrambled for the headphones she left by her laptop, popping them in her ears and pushing play on the video the second the Bluetooth could connect.

A giggle, quickly followed by a quiet, breathy moan filled her ears. Ellie listened intently, pressing her legs closer together. The video was black; you had only sent the audio, knowing without a doubt it would drive Ellie even crazier since she couldn’t see what you were doing. No, she couldn’t see anything… which made every desperate little sound coming out of her headphones all the more intoxicating. Ellie squeezed her eyes shut, easily conjuring up an image to go along with your pretty little sounds.

You started off slow, in Ellie’s mind, your free hand caressing over your breasts first, pausing over the nipple to tease and play with, then dragging your fingers further down. A sharp inhale: you ghost your cold fingertips over the searing skin of your stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps. You moan louder then, and Ellie imagined a finger brushing just underneath the waistband of the black lace. A small snap confirms this. Fingers stroke lower and lower, rubbing directly over your clit, eliciting more than a few curses out of your mouth. You teased yourself endlessly, this much Ellie knew for certain. You could never seem to get enough when Ellie teased you just to the edge, always begging for more despite the fat tears rolling down your cheeks. F-fuuuck, Ellie cursed in her head. The thought of you crying for her strap made Ellie as breathless as you were in the audio.

Gasps, moans, and low whispers of how much you needed her to come over right this second left Ellie dazed. So dazed, in fact, that she didn’t realize the video had finished a while ago. Her eyes shot open, mental images disappearing and replaced with the bright fluorescent computer screen glaring back at her. She removed the hand from the jeans she didn’t even remember unbuttoning. Somehow, despite the distance, Ellie could practically taste the heady scent of sex in the air, could feel the way your body arched through the phone. She suddenly remembered where she was and scanned the room, embarrassed that she could be caught by her roommate in such a precarious position as getting off in the living room from her girlfriend’s video. Haphazardly wiping her fingers on the black denim of her jeans, and satisfied that the room was completely roommate free (they were on vacation but old habits die hard), Ellie turned her attention back to her phone. She wondered for a moment if she could just listen to it again in the privacy of her room, but that thought left the instant she saw the time stamp.

5 minutes ago. Shit, you only sent this 5 minutes ago. Ellie’s heart started to pound. Her thumbs furiously typed a response and hit send.

Ellie 2:31 AM           Hey baby u still need me in a biblical way?

The three dots popped up almost instantly. Ellie could feel her boxers grow wetter by the second, the fabric clinging to her at the fucking thought of seeing her fantasy come to life. The three dots disappeared, and her fingers itched to send a second question. But she didn’t; after all, this was Ellie ‘Ego’ Williams. She never double texted, not even when her life- or her sanity- depended on it.

After what seemed like an hour (10 seconds), a blue bubble graced her phone screen. Ellie shot up, tripping over her feet to grab her jacket and bookbag. She shoved her converse on without even doing the laces and ran out the door. The normal 15-minute drive through quiet suburban neighborhoods became a 6-minute drive in a grand prix, blasting through every stop sign and practically drifting through roundabouts. Ellie pulled up to your apartment complex, miraculously remembering to lock the car before fumbling with her keys at the front door. She slid her copy of the key into the lock and burst into the door. Happily, you had no roommates, so Ellie didn’t have to worry about being loud. In any way.

She kicked off her shoes and placed her keys on the counter, but the adrenaline began to settle as she took in the stillness of the room. No sign of my girlfriend, she noted. The last photo you sent had clearly shown you sprawled on the couch, so the empty living room was strange. Curiosity piqued, Ellie slowly padded into the kitchen listening intently for anything that would give away your location.

Silence.

Ellie moved towards the hallway, getting ready to call out your name. The adrenaline and anticipation mixed together were coursing through her, setting her even more on edge. She passed the first door without a thought. Roommate’s room is always off limits, you weren’t that freaky.

(A/N: y’all don’t have sex in other people’s rooms/beds, it’s weird and violates SO many boundaries)

A sound whispered from down the hall, stopping Ellie in her tracks.

“…”

She moved forward wordlessly, inching towards the last door. Your door.

Another soft rustle, followed by a more distinguishable sigh reached her ears, sending a delicious shiver down her spine. Another moan, this one louder, spurred Ellie on. You were touching yourself, she thought, even though I was already on my way… Soft light filled the hallway as Ellie nudged the door open quietly, where her eyes settled on the object of her search: you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You had had a very long day, and the absence of your girlfriend during her midterms could only be endured for so long. The worst period cramps of your life had stopped you and Ellie from being intimate for a while, so the timing of her being busy for a week with essays just happened to coincide with the most horny ovulation phase you’d had… ever. You were feral, having to take more than one bathroom break during work shifts to survive. You were having daydreams, starting to fantasize about Ellie taking you in the breakroom of the café you worked at. Bending you over the back counter and eating you out from behind. Fucking her strap into you as you tried and failed to do the dishes. Her staring down at you as you sat on your heels, gazing with heavy-lidded eyes as she fucked into the back of your throat.

No wonder you couldn’t get anything done today.

So when you had finally made it home, you tried to unwind by half-heartedly watching a movie on the couch. Unfortunately for you, the show you picked had a sex scene 20 minutes in that yanked you right back into lusting after your absentee girlfriend. You sent Ellie text after text, trying to nudge her into coming over. But by the 4th photo with no response, you begrudgingly took matters into your own hands.

You meandered (albeit naked) to your bedroom and rummaged in your dresser for your favorite toy. Plopping down on your bed and getting comfortable, you shut your eyes and started to conjure up the work fantasy from earlier.

A desperate thought crossed your mind, and you reached for your phone, pressing record before you could pause and regret. Moaning as needily and enticingly as you could (though it wasn’t that hard considering how sensitive you were), you sent the audio.

No sooner had you started to touch yourself again when a notification alerted you. Your eyes widened with giddy anticipation as Ellie messaged you. You confirmed that you were in fact still dying of need-to-get-railed-itis and eagerly awaited an “omw” text, but it never came. Maybe she’ll call? you thought, but the idea of waiting was just too much. Your thighs ached and underwear was already off.

Impatient fingers slipped down your curves, feeling your own skin prickle with goosebumps as you teased around your stomach and onto your inner thigh. You brushed against your clit, seeing if you were still as sensitive as you were a minute ago… You were. You gathered wetness on your fingers and then began to just lightly ghost around your pussy. Soft sighs escaped your lips as you pushed a finger in, moans growing louder as you slipped deeper into yourself and your fantasy. In your mind, Ellie had just slipped her strap inside you, as you begged her to go deeper. A particularly good stroke of your fingers made you gasp, and you begged fantasy Ellie to fuck you just like that.

A chuckle from across the room made your eyes shoot open. As you blinked away the fantasy and lust, the real Ellie stood before you; leaning across your doorway with the most irritating smirk you had come to know and love.

(they fuck, the end lol)

(jk, part 2 will get down to business in great detail. comments are appreciated)

[milf-murdock]

Safety First

(AKA: The one where Simon views “the law” as a relative term when it comes to your safety)

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Civilian!Reader 

Summary: After a scare involving a break-in at your flat, Simon decides to take extreme measures to ensure your safety—including getting you an illegal firearm and teaching you how to use it. What he doesn’t expect is just how turned on he is by watching you shoot it. Warnings: potential break-in scenario described, protective Simon to the rescue, use of a firearm, descriptive use of firearm, smut (I promise there is a plot here though it just….devolved into smut because I have no self control), P in V, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex, sliiiiiiight breeding kink, praise kink (really exposed myself with the number of “good girls” here👀), no mask Simon because civilian life, mate 😌  A/N: I had a lot of fun with this. It just seems so very “Simon” to me. He would have exactly 1 (one) incident where he gets scared shitless that something has happened to you, and he would pull every last goddamn string necessary to get your trained up on a handgun to make sure you can defend yourself always, even when he’s not there. Personal firearms are very much illegal in the UK but you can’t tell me the 141 boys aren’t packing at home. Simon Riley?? Leaving weapons behind?? Be so fucking for real.

Your grip on the shopping falters, nearly dropping the heavy container of milk. Your body freezes as you take in the sight before you, immediately on high alert. The front door stands ajar.

Someone’s broke in, your anxieties speak for themself. Images flash in your mind at a rapid pace, escalating in concern: men ransacking through your things, hiding out, waiting for you, strong foreign hands on your body—your shaking hands have your boyfriend’s number dialed before your imagination dares to unfold any further. You drop the shop bags on the floor, backing away from the door and down the hall of your complex.

“Hey—“ the deep  familiar baritone is immediately cut off by your sobs. 

“Si-Simon?” You choke out his name between your gasping breaths. You try to steel yourself, but the tears have already started.

“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” Simon’s voice instantly hardens, shifting to one of action. 

The tears are relentless now, and you try to force them at bay to respond. 

“Answer me, love, are you hurt?” Simon’s voice raises ever so slightly in pitch. 

“N-not hurt,” you gasp out. “It’s my flat. The door’s open. I know I locked it—at least I think I locked it, I went to the shop, I needed more milk, remember? I was only out for a bit—“

“Breathe, babe. Breathe.” You can hear the jingle of keys in the background of the call. “Listen to me very carefully, love. You turn around right now and get back in your car. Lock the doors. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right there.” 

You sniff, thankful the tears seem to have finally subsided. You’re already put slightly more at ease knowing Simon is on his way. “Okay,” your voice waivers. “I can do that.” 

“‘Course you can. Now stay on the line with me until you get to your car.” You hear his car door slam in the background. 

__________________

Simon turns the 20 minute drive to 7. 

His sharp tap on your window startles you, sending your heart racing once again. 

“Stay ‘ere, love. Be right back.” Simon’s voice is muffled through the window, but you nod in response. 

Simon makes his way up the stairs to your flat, pulling his concealed weapon to his side and subtly shifting the safety off. The heavy weight of the cold metal is familiar as he cocks the weapon, preparing for a sweep. The motion is as natural as breathing for him. He gently toes open the door, immediately pulling his weapon at attention as he scans the room for threats. “Clear” Simon thinks to himself. Some habits are too deeply engrained. 

He makes his way through your flat, thoroughly checking for anything amiss. Once he’s satisfied that everything looks clear, he disarms the weapon, clearing the loaded round from the chamber and clicking the safety back on. The gun gets tucked back safely against his body, concealed from sight as he makes his way back out to your car. 

Simon gives you a brief nod, signaling all was clear. At that sign, you fling the car door open and throw yourself out of the car, instinctually trusting those strong arms to catch you. 

The moment your face is buried in the broad expanse of his chest, his familiar scent hitting you like a freight train, the tears well up once more. 

“S-sorry, I was just so freaked out,” you stutter, unsure if Simon could even understand you with your face pressed against him, but unwilling to untangle yourself even a bit. 

“Shh, it’s alright swee’art,” Simon murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as his hand rubs soothing circles on your back. “I scoped out the whole place. It’s clean.” 

He could feel the relief in your body as you took in his words. 

“You sure you locked the place up, babe?” Simon treads lightly, not wanting to upset you further. “It didn’t look like anybody had been in. Could’ve just been a draft knocking the door open if it wasn’t shut and lcked properly.” 

You pulled your head back from Simon’s chest, fumbling with the edge of your jumper to gently wipe the tears and snot from your face, sniffling. 

“I’m sure I locked it.” You pause for a moment. Well, at least you think you’re sure. You think back to when you left your flat, hands juggling your keys, your purse, distracted by your neighbor and his adorably fluffy Pomeranian who were leaving at the same time. Mr. Darcy immediately demanded your attention, of course, and who were you to deny him all the fluff-filled pets his heart desired? Embarrassment curdles in your stomach, a heat creeping up into your cheeks. 

“Well, maybe not absolutely sure…” you correct yourself. “I think I did, but Mr. Darcy was out, and I got distracted, and I just needed some milk for my tea, and I—“ 

Simon took you back in his arms, cutting off your monologue. “Ahh, Mr. Darcy, you said?” He knows your fondness for the small Pomeranian well, especially after the last time you dog sat for them and insisted Simon make friends with the blasted pup. “That would explain it.” 

“I’m sorry if I overreacted,” you sigh, shame replacing the fear. “I shouldn’t have called you.” 

“Oi-“ Simon is quick to cut you off. His strong hand grips your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “You did the exact right thing. Any time something feels off, got a bad feeling from some bloke at the pub, walking out by yourself in the dark, I don’t care what it is or when it is—you call me. Understood?” 

“Understood.” You sniffle once more. 

“Let’s get back inside and get you that cuppa,” Simon soothes, one hand pressed to the small of your back as he guides you back inside your flat. He stops to grab the forgotten shop bags off the floor with one hand. 

__________________

You two are getting ready for bed, having convinced Simon to spend the night—not that it took much convincing. Simon watches as you parade around the bedroom in one of his oversized t-shirts, toothbrush in your mouth as you walked around getting ready for bed. It’s in these little moments he realizes how truly in deep he is. He’d give his left fucking arm to have this view daily. 

“Thanks for coming to my rescue today,” you quip, exiting the bathroom and sliding into bed next to him. “And for agreeing to stay the night.”

“‘Course, love.” Simon opens his arm and lets you get into your designated spot, head on his chest, leg tangled over his, hand resting on his stomach. “Woulda probably stayed the night anyways.” 

“Yeah, but still…” you let out a sigh as you settle in, curving your body against his. The warmth of his body heat warms your chilled frame. 

“I was so scared.” Your voice is a whisper in the dark. “I just kept imagining the worst possible scenario. What if I was home? Alone? And someone did break in? What if you weren’t here? What if you were overseas?” Your breath hitches and your heart rate picks up again. Simon resumes rubbing soothing circles across your back. 

“I just felt so helpless. So defenseless.” 

“You’re okay.” His voice was low, steady. “Everything worked out okay. You’re safe. I’m here. You’re safe.” 

Between the repetitive soothing motion of Simon’s strong hand against your back and the steady rhythm of Simon’s heartbeat, sleep soon found you despite your fears. 

As your breaths evened out, Simon’s own mind starts swirling with dark thoughts. The what if’s find purchase in his brain and he subconsciously pulls your sleeping form even closer to him.  

You were right, of course. He couldn’t always be here. He had to find some way to make sure you could take care of yourself, to make sure you could defend yourself. He had to know you were always taken care of, no matter where he was. 

Of course he had already walked you through the basics of self defense. You had a decent right hook, and he more than appreciated the opportunity to teach you a few other moves that had the two of you sprawled on the floor of your sitting room, sofa pushed up against the wall to create enough space. If his memory served him correctly, that particular little sparring session had resulted in an entirely different from of…wrestling.

But none of it was enough to put his mind at ease. Simon knows that if someone truly meant to do you harm, someone from his line of work…all the moves in the world wouldn’t help you. He wouldn’t want you getting close enough for that kind of combat anyways.There was only one thing that could make him feel even a modicum of peace. 

Simon was going to teach you to shoot. 

______________

That weekend, Simon woke you up bright and early, claiming to have a surprise date for you. 

“Oooh, what is it?” You’re nearly bouncing with excitement in the kitchen chair as Simon hands you your breakfast. 

“If I told you, wouldn’t be much of a surprise, now would it?” 

“Fair point,” you mumble around a mouth full of toast. 

“Let’s just say it’ll make us both feel better.” Simon takes a sip from his mug. 

__________________

You gazed out the window, the rising sun casting the military base in a warm glow. Simon had never brought you here before, had always hidden this part of his life away from you. You try to drink in as much detail as you can, driven by curiosity at this mysterious part of his life. 

Simon pulls the car as close to the shooting range as he could. Despite the base being mostly deserted this weekend, he was still taking every precaution necessary to ensure he was limiting your exposure to this area of his life as much as he could. 

With the car parked, Simon makes his way to your side of the car, his large, protective form shielding you from any prying eyes. He feels particularly exposed without his mask, but it’s a short walk to the range and he trusts that Price has held up his end of the bargain to keep this particular area abandoned this morning. His hand finds its way to the small of your back and guides you inside the range. 

The smell of gunpowder immediately filled your nostrils. There was always a lingering scent on Simon when he came home, but nothing quite as affronting as this. 

As promised, the range was completely cleared out, and Simon made a mental note to personally thank Price for his help. 

“What’re we doing here, Si?” Your voice piqued with curiosity. 

“Well, we’re teaching you how to shoot, o’ course.” 

“But why? It’s not like I’d ever have access to anything like that. S’not legal.” 

“About that.” Simon made his way to an area of the range that housed the standard weapons that were available for practice. He trusted that Price followed through on one other crucial part of this deal. 

Sure enough, a small compact handgun was nestled amongst the other array of firearms. 

Simon grabbed it, testing its weight in his hand before making his way back to you. 

“Listen to me very carefully, love,” his tone shifted, dripping with sincerity, and a touch of his natural commanding energy. 

You immediately sober up, looking at him with your full attention as if to show how good a listener you were. 

“This is for emergencies only. It stays hidden always. No one knows you have this. No one knows this even exists. It’s very important you understand that.” 

“But how did you—? Should I even—?”

“Mm-no questions. Just—“ Simon lets out an exasperated sigh. 

“Just trust me. I need to make sure you’re safe. ‘Specially after that little scare earlier this week.” 

You nod your head solemnly. “I understand, Si.” 

“Good. Then let’s get after it.” 

He guides you over to a stall and places your gun on the countertop as you assess your surroundings. There’s five lanes in this section of the range, each separated by stalls with an open range ahead. You can make out five faux targets at the end of the lane, but they seem impossibly far. Surely no-one can actually make that shot, you think to yourself. You’re pulled from your thoughts as Ghost steps up to you and places a pair of bulky earmuffs over your head. “These’ll help protect your ears while we practice,” he says as he adjusts them to fit snugly against your ears. 

“Don’t you need some?” Your voice is raised to compensate for your dulled auditory senses. 

Simon chuckles in response. “I’ll be alright. M’used to it.” 

“Now go pick it up,” he gestures towards the gun. “Safety’s on so don’t worry. It won’t bite.” 

Reality sinks in as you step forward and reach for the weapon. It’s lighter than you expected, but there’s a heftiness there that doesn’t have anything to do with the weight of the object itself. You test the feel of it in your hand, mimicking what you’ve seen in movies. 

“Good,” Ghost murmurs, stepping up behind you. He’s close enough now that you can feel him pressing up against your back. Two strong arms encase your frame as he leans forward and places his hands over yours. His large hands manage to make the weapon, and your hands, look even smaller. “Hold it like this.” He adjusts your grip just slightly. “Atta girl.” 

His thumb guides your own along the edge of the handle until you reach a firm button on the side. “Here’s the safety. You can tell it’s on when this red button is sticking out. See that, yeah?” 

You nod your head but it’s taking every ounce of energy you have to focus on his words and not the feeling of Simon’s hard body pressed against your back, his hot breath sending a chill down your neck, and the look of his large hands dwarfing your own—

“Oi. Pay attention. This is important.” 

You mentally scold yourself and refocus, adjusting your grip. “Okay, so the safety’s on?”

“Yes. Press it in to turn it off.”  You do as he says, the click instantly elevating your senses. Did the gun get heavier? 

“Now, pull back the top like this to,” he motions pulling back the barrel. “That’ll load the bullet into the chamber. It should already have a round in there, but we’ll get you some more ammo before we leave. Go ahead, cock it.” 

You can’t help the snort that escapes you. “Cock it, eh?” You turn your head to waggle your eyebrows at him. 

“Behave,” Simon warns, turning your chin to face forward. 

It takes more power than you expected to pull the barrel back, but the reaffirming click lets you know that something did indeed happen inside. 

“Alright, she’s loaded now.” 

“Okay…” you hesitate, waiting for further instructions. “Now what?”

“Now you point and shoot.” 

“At what?”

“See that fella at the end there? Aim for his head.” Simon gestures to the paper dummy hanging at the end of the alley. 

“All the way down there? There’s no way anybody could hit that!” You protest. 

Simon sighs, resigned, and flicks a small toggle on the countertop, triggering the electric pulley system that pulls the paper dummy closer to you, stopping it about halfway down the track. 

“Better?” 

“Only one way to find out,” you mutter, adjusting your position and taking aim. 

With a centering inhale, you close one eye, aim as best you can, and pull the trigger. 

The shot rings out louder than you thought possible, even with the ear protection. The force of the shot thrusts you backwards into Simon’s sturdy frame. Gun powder fills your nostrils even stronger than before. Your heart races as you look ahead to see…

You’ve miss the target completely. 

 “S’alright, love, wasn’t too terrible for your first shot,” Simon consoles. 

“Here, move your foot,” he gently taps the inside of your foot with his toes, and you spread into a wider stance. “Good, now straighten up those shoulders. Don’t worry about cocking it yet, let’s get the position right.” 

You do as he says, pulling the gun up once more to eye level. 

“Give your elbows a bit more bend. You want to hold it tight, but be loose enough for the recoil so it won’t knock you on your arse.”

“How’s that?” You ask, loosening your shoulders and relaxing your arms just slightly. 

“Looks good to me. Go ahead and cock ‘er.” 

You pull the barrel once more and ready yourself to take another shot. 

“Deep breathe,” Simon reminds you. “Now I want you to keep both eyes open, and look at where you’re directing your shot. You want to aim just slightly above your target. Gravity will pull the bullet down a bit from this distance.” 

You try your best to keep all these factors in your mind as you take your aim. 

A deep inhale and you brace yourself as you pull the trigger. 

This time you have a better idea of what to expect, and you move your upper body with the recoil, feeling more stable.  

“Did I do it? Did I hit it?” The excitement radiates in your voice as you eagerly lean over the table to get a better look. 

Simon can’t help but laugh at your enthusiasm, so at odds with what he usually sees in this environment. “Let’s take a look,” he says as he presses the toggle and the motorized target moves closer. As it gets within range you see a clear, definitive hole in his upper right chest. “I got him!” You exclaim, jumping up and down. 

“Easy there, love,” Simon scolds halfheartedly as he leans over you and clicks the safety into place. 

You set the gun on the counter and turn to throw your hands around Simon’s neck, laughing. “I did it, Si!” 

You laughter is contagious and Simon’s own chuckle is music to your ears as his strong arms lift you up on your tiptoes. “Yeah, you sure did, babe.” 

And then his lips are on yours, his kiss hot and passionate, setting your body ablaze. He deepens the kiss for a final moment before setting you back on your feet and pulling away, leaving you breathless. 

“Damn,” the curse falls from your lips as you try to catch your breath, feeling just a tad lightheaded. 

“Right,” Simon clears his throat, trying to get the run of himself once more. He not-so-subtly adjusts his trousers bringing a satisfying smirk to your lips before turning you back around. 

“Let’s get some more practice in.” His voice is resolute, but the bulging erection currently pressing into your backside says differently as he sends the target back to the middle of the range. 

You pick up the gun once more, already feeling more comfortable with it, and adjust your stance to set up for another shot. Simon reaches up and corrects your aim just slightly, and you take the opportunity to lean back into him, ass rubbing against his hardened cock.

“I said behave,” Simon groans aloud, but you can feel his hips thrust ever so slightly in response. 

You fire off another shot, reloading and firing two more times. The thrill of each shot sends a jolt of electricity through you. You feel in control. Not helpless. Not defenseless. No, you feel…powerful. 

Simon swears his cock couldn’t get any harder. He had brought you here with the express purpose of teaching you to defend yourself when he wasn’t there. How could he possibly have anticipated just how fucking turned on he’d get watching you fire that weapon. 

Your confidence grows with each shot, your stance already self-assured. You look like a badass. And right now, it is taking every last goddamn bit of strength and willpower for Simon to stop himself from taking you right then and there. 

Finally, the gun gives a satisfying click, signifying the end of your rounds.  

“Phew,” you exhale with a chuckle. “That was an absolute thrill.” Clicking the safety back in place, you set the gun down and turn to face Simon. 

The wide smile on your face, bright as the morning sun, it takes his breath away. He can’t hold back a second longer. His lips crash against yours, large hands settling on your hips, pushing you back against the countertop. He doesn’t dare break the kiss as his meaty hands slide down to your ass, squeezing the supple flesh before lifting you up with a grunt to set you on the countertop. 

“Si!” Your exclamations drown in another breath-stealing kiss as Simon slots himself between your legs. 

Simon bites back a groan as he grinds his erection against your core, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. 

Deft fingers undo the button on your jeans and you lift your hips up, allowing him to pull down your trousers and knickers in one swoop. 

You let out a hiss as the cool countertop meets your bare ass, but the sensation is lost among more exciting sensations as Simon gets on his knees before you. Thank god for his height—even with you seated on the countertop he’s at the perfect height. 

“Bloody perfection,” Simon eyes your bare cunt, eyes full of wanton need. 

His comment brings heat to your cheek, intensified by his playful nips and kisses placed along your inner thighs. 

He kisses higher and higher, exciting you with every soft kiss, before skipping right over where you truly need him, moving to the other thigh. 

You let out an exasperated groan. “Quit teasing, Si.” 

His brown eyes shoot to yours, giving you a look—how dare you order him around. He has half a mind to punish you right here and now, but the scent of your dripping cunt hits his nose and his mouth waters on instinct. He places one more kiss to your thigh before acquiescing and a moving to your core. 

Words escape you as he laps at your heat, eating like a man starved. Fingers tangle in his dark blonde locks, hips rising off the cool countertop to meet him. 

Simon’s strong hands slide up your legs, gripping your hips and forcing you back down on the counter, tongue driving deeper between your folds, relishing in your gasps of pleasure. 

His tongue slides up your sweet folds, savoring every drop, until he reaches your puffy clit. This is when Simon slows it down, takes his time. His tongue swirls around your clit, sending shivers up your spine. He continues teasing you like this, your legs shaking until you’re not sure how much more you can take. 

His eyes are wide open, locked on your squirming form. While shooting that firearm gave you a sense of power, this is what gives Simon his sense of power—watching you come undone by him, his tongue, his actions alone sending you into this frenzied state. His right hand slides from your hip to your inner thigh before sliding inside you. He curls his fingers expertly, hitting that spongey spot inside you, making you see stars. He takes your clit into his moth, suckling at the swollen nub, fingers fucking you hard, preparing you for his cock. He releases your clit with an audible pop, his voice breathy and low. 

“You’re gonna come for me right now. Just like this. On my fingers. Understood?” 

You’re past caring. You’re past words. But somehow you manage out a breathy “Yes, yes, Si, just let me— I’m gonna—“ his tongue is back on your clit and his fingers hitting that spot just so and you’re toppling over the edge, body going rigid. Simon’s tongue is incessant, lapping up every drop of juice that spills from your sweet cunt, prolonging your orgasm with every nip and suckle until you’re bucking up against him. 

“Too sensitive, Si,” you mumble, lost in the haze of your orgasm. 

“That’s just how I like you swee’heart.” Simon stands up and undoes his belt, freeing his cock from its restraints. You crack your eyes open to see him wrap a fist around his cock, giving his member a few rough tugs, rolling back the skin to expose the deep red shade at the tip of his cock, already leaking precum. You bite your bottom lip as you let out a moan. 

“Now you gonna take my cock like a good girl?” Simon smirks down on you, making eye contact as his fist slides languidly up and down his cock. 

You nod fervently. 

“Good girl, just what I like to hear.” With that, he notches his cock at your opening, looking to you for one final nod of approval before he starts inching inside. 

You gasp at the intrusion, but Simon’s groans are nearly pained. 

“Fucking hell, babe, you’re so fucking tight.” 

You can only whimper in response, still lost in the post-orgasm bliss. 

“Shit,” Simon mutters under his breath. “Gotta relax, love,” he presses one hand against your abdomen. “Relax for me. You can take it. I know you can.” 

Simon’s mumbles even more praises, each good girl blurring into one another, lulling you, relaxing you. With a final grunt, Simon thrusts in to the hilt, filling you completely. 

“That’s my fucking girl,” Simon growls, pulling out to the tip and thrusting back into you. “Ya always take me so well, so fucking well.” 

His thrusts are deep, steady, his thick arms holding your body in place while his hips drive home. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes around the room, punctuated by your moans, and Simon swears he’s never been so thankful for Price’s little favors in his entire goddamn life. 

“Si…” you cry out, already feeling that familiar tightening in your stomach. Simon is already two steps ahead of you—he recognizes that tell-tale tightening of your cunt, that change in pitch as your breathy moans increase. Simon slides one hand from your hip down to your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles. 

“C’mon sweet girl, my good, sweet girl,” Simon’s hips move faster, cock thrusting into you with reckless abandon as he teeters on the edge. “Gonna come all over this fat fucking cock, yeah? Gonna let me fill you with every last drop of me, huh?” Simon’s words bordered on nonsense at this point, lost in the haze of pleasure. 

“Need it, Si,” you gasp. “Need to—gonna—can I—“

“Yes,” Simon growls low. It sends you over the edge, your entire body goes rigid as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. 

“That’s my girl, good girl,” Simon coos, working you through your orgasm. His thumb doesn’t leave your puffy clit until your body is jerking against him, overstimulated and worn out. 

“You’re such a good girl coming undone for me, love,” Simon murmurs, pressing a kiss to your damp temple. 

You’re barely floating back to reality, but you know he hasn’t finished yet. “Need you, Si,” you moan. “Need you to fill me up…please?” You’re downright pitiful about it, but Simon swears it makes him cock even harder. 

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Simon adjusts your hips in both holds, holding you steady as he pounds into your swollen pussy. “Fuck,” he groans, eyes rolling back. “Not gonna last long like this.” Simon loses all sense of rhythm as he pounds into you with abandon, searching for his end. “Fuck, I’m coming—“ Simon finishes with a growl, hips giving one final hard thrust before his warm seed start to flood you. Simon holds you close as he finishes, panting hard, forehead pressed to yours. 

You reflexively tighten your core, causing Simon to inhale sharply, beyond sensitive. 

“Fuck,” Simon curses, his breath still coming in pants as he tries to slow his heart rate. “You’re bloody perfect.” 

You chuckle in response, flushed from the thrill and excitement. “You’re just saying that because it turns out I’m a decent shot.” 

Simon smiles softly before nuzzling his head in your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there. 

“Something like that, love.”

[pedrospatch]

when i’m feeling alone, you remind me of home

Javier Peña x DEA Agent Female Reader

summary: Spending Christmas in Bogotá, Colombia isn’t ideal. Javier knows you’re missing home a little harder than usual, so he comes up with a plan to cheer you up.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. minor deviation from canon timeline (had to make it work), reader is an agent for the DEA, NO AGE SPECIED, NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION, reader understands and speaks spanish but no mention of her race or ethnicity, friends to lovers trope, reader celebrates christmas, reader has a good relationship with her family, minor smoking and alcohol consumption (both reader and javi), reader’s a bit rough around the edges sometimes. fluff, soft javi, he’s a bit of a grinch in the beginning though. switches in pov’s and tenses.

*ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS AT THE END.

word count: 2.9k

a/n: thank you to @hellishjoel for inviting me to join in on this fun project!

12 Days of Pedro Masterlist

Javier Peña doesn’t do Christmas.

He especially doesn’t do Christmas in Bogotá.

He doesn’t see the point even acknowledging it.

There are more important things on his mind.

Capturing Pablo Escobar.

Dismantling the dangerous Medellín Cartel.

Living long enough to tell the fucking tale.

Those were his priorities while in Colombia.

Not decking the halls with boughs of holly.

And yet, there he is, fighting with a string of bright and colorful lights, wishing these damn things would put themselves on the tree. “Puta madre,” Javi curses underneath his breath as he tries untangling them from around his waist. Somehow, he only makes it worse. He grumbles, “This is fucking ridiculous—it shouldn’t be this fucking hard throwing lights on a goddamn fucking tree—” He pauses, spins around to find where he’d gone wrong and then continues grouching to himself. “Can’t believe people do this fucking shit for fun. Stupidest thing I’ve ever—”

Javi manages to free himself and glances down at his watch to see he’s running out of time—it’s past five now, and unless Messina’s in one of those bad fucking moods of hers and decides to dump some last minute paperwork onto your desk, then you’re going to be walking through the front door soon.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling a deep and frustrated sigh.

He’d been an idiot to decline Connie’s offer to help him when she had dropped off the decorations for him earlier that afternoon.

“You sure you don’t need my help?” she had asked as she handed him the cardboard box overflowing with festive ornaments and tinsel. “I have a couple of more hours before I have to be at the clinic, you know. I can help you set it all up for her, make it all nice and pretty.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got it handled,” he’d replied. “I’m sure it won’t take me too long to put some—is this fucking fruit?” Confused, Javi shifted the box over to his hip, pulling out a string of dried oranges and red cranberries. “Um, what the hell is this for? This supposed to be a snack for me while I decorate?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s a homemade garland.”

“It’s a homemade what now?”

“Garland, Javier. It goes on the tree.”

Amused, he’d raised an eyebrow at her.

“Fruit going back onto the tree? That’s ironic.”

Sighing, Connie rolled her eyes at him once more.

“Last chance. Do you want my help or not, Javi?”

“I appreciate it, but like I said, I’ve got it handled.”

She’d shrugged. “Alright, suit yourself, then.”

Little did he know how he’d regret his decision. It’s a bigger headache than he thought it would be, an incredible waste of valuable time he could’ve been using to hunt down new leads, do the job he came here to do and find Pablo Escobar. Then again, the more he thinks about it, the more Javi realizes this isn’t a waste of his time at all—not really.

Because he’s doing this for you.

Because he knows you love Christmas.

Because he knows you’ve been feeling homesick.

The season you normally adored was bringing you nothing but heartache this year. There is a void—a hole in your heart that only your family could fill.

“Messina denied my request for time off,” you had told him, taking a drag of his cigarette—you’re not much of a smoker, but he’d learned that tended to change on occasion when you were upset. “Said it isn’t fair to let me go home for Christmas. That I’m not the only one who wants to be with their family. And I get it. I do.” Sighing, you took a second drag and then handed the cigarette back to Javier; he’d put it between his lips, the taste of cherry flavored lip gloss that lingered on the filtered tip prompting a craving stronger than his craving for nicotine. “It was selfish of me to even think of taking time off. I just—I miss spending Christmas in my hometown, you know? Waking up to snow outside my window in the mornings. Building snowmen with my sister, hurling snowballs at my brother. I miss my mother and her cooking. I miss my father and how even at our age, he still insists on pretending to be Santa.”

Laughing, Javier leaned forward on his stool.

You’d asked him to meet you at your usual spot—a quiet lounge bar right around the corner from your apartment. When he walked in and saw the scotch in front of you on the table, he’d known something was wrong. You’re not much of a drinker, either.

“Does he eat the cookies and drink the milk too?”

You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest, a little grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. He tried not to let his gaze longer there too long—he’s just one man. There was only so much strength he could muster to keep fighting the temptation.

“Of course. He takes his role very, very seriously.”

Despite your smile, he’d noticed it right away.

The unmistakable sadness in your eyes.

You were tough as fucking nails.

In this line of work, you had no choice but to be.

But Javier knew your family was your weakness.

His weakness?

His weakness was sitting there in front of him with a crestfallen expression on her pretty face, tracing around the rim of her glass with her finger.

“It’s stupid, isn’t it?” Your voice had thickened, the emotions you’re used to bottling up threatening to boil over.

“Of course not,” he assured you. “There is nothing stupid about wanting to go back home to see your family. There’s nothing stupid about wanting to be with them for the holidays. I promise you that.”

You snorted. “Peña, we’re trying to bring down the most dangerous man in all of South America. Last thing I need to be doing right now is dreaming of a white Christmas. It’s fucking stupid, alright?”

Hesitantly, Javier lifted his hand and placed it over yours—it wasn’t the first time he’d ever held it, not the first time he had shown physical affection, but this was the most vulnerable he had ever seen you and he didn’t want to make things worse. Once he realized it was okay, he brushed the back of it with his thumb softly, soothingly.

“Yo hablaré con Messina, cariño.”

“No hay caso para eso, Javier.”

“Maybe I can convince her to let you go. She’s got me and she’s got Murphy. We’ll handle things here while you head home for a few days, spend a week with your family for Christmas. Doesn’t hurt to try, you know.” Javi squeezed your hand. Knowing just how fucking stubborn you could be, he insisted on it. “Por favor, cielo. Dejame ayudarte con esto. Yo solo quiero verte feliz. Dejame ayudarte.”

You drained the rest of your scotch and swallowed it along with the lump that had climbed it’s way up your throat. Setting the glass back down, you then pulled your hand out from under his and stood up.

“Forget it. I’m here because I have a job to do—we both have a job to do. I’ll get over it, Javier. Always do.”

Before he could say another word, you’d picked up your jacket and purse, making a quick dash for the exit before he could see the stubborn tear slipping out from the corner of your eye and down the side of your face. But he had seen it, and that’s exactly why he knew he had to do something for you.

About an hour later, Javi places a glittering star on top of the white spruce and then takes a couple of steps back, hands on his hips. Cocking his head to the side, he observes the tree and makes sure that he hasn’t left a single spot bare. He decides to add more gold tinsel until he feels oddly satisfied—and once he is, he pulls out his pocket knife, using it to open the small sized box he had brought with him; two different addresses were scribbled on the side of it in your mother’s handwriting, his apartment’s address the destination, her address the return.

“I wrapped it well,” she’d said over the phone. “It’s her most prized possession, so I really hope it gets to you in one piece or she’s going to kill us both.”

Javier slowly unwraps the object inside and feels a wave of complete and utter relief wash over him to see it made it through customs without breaking.

He squints, taking a better look at the ornament.

The little blonde ballerina is made of porcelain and holds a nutcracker soldier in her arms—the skirt of her dress is white lace embroidered with teeny red rosettes that perfectly match the blush painted on her cheeks and the color of the bow in her hair.

“It’s Clara,” your mother had explained to him.

“Who?” he’d asked, stupidly.

“Clara. You know, from The Nutcracker?”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” he’d fibbed. “Clara. Got it.”

He had no clue what she had been talking about—but if it’s special to you, then it’s special to him.

Carefully, Javi hangs it on tree just as he hears the front door open and then slam shut so hard that it causes the paper thin walls of your unit to rattle.

“Peña!” you shout loudly. “You fucking asshole!”

Lip rolling between his teeth, he stifles a laugh.

You must have seen his Wrangler parked outside.

Grinning, Javier steps out into the hallway to greet you. “Hola, hermosa. Bienvenida a casa.”

“So, let me get this straight,” you say, tossing your purse and unit keys onto a nearby table. “You offer to give me ride to and from work but then proceed to ditch me and leave work three hours early—you leave me with no other fucking choice but to call a cab to bring me home and when he drops me off, I see your fucking car outside of my apartment?”

Rubbing his chin, he hums, “Sounds about right.”

You approach him, your hands curled into fists.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Javier?”

Javi’s quick to hold up his own hands in defense.

He won’t put it past you to knock him out—he and Murphy have seen you bring down men twice your size before without a weapon. Neither of them can decide if it’s hot as hell or downright terrifying.

“Okay, put those away and let me explain,” he tells you, shaking his head. “I’m really sorry I did that to you, but I did it for a reason.”

You scoff, “Well, if that reason was to piss me off, I have some news for you—it fucking worked.”

“That wasn’t the reason. Not this time, anyway.”

Chuckling, Javier extends a hand, holding it out to you.

You peer at it. “What are you doing, Peña?”

“Ven conmigo, cielo. Tengo una sorpresa para ti.”

Suspiciously, you ask him, “What did you do?”

He laughs again. He knew it wouldn’t make it easy for him. “You do know how surprises work, right?”

You lift your chin. “I do and I don’t like surprises.”

“I know you don’t, but I think you’ll like this one.”

Javi continues to hold out his hand and waits.

He’s just as stubborn as you are, if not more.

“We can stand here all fucking night, corazón.”

Sighing in defeat, you place your hand in his, heart skipping a beat when he smiles and laces together your fingers with his own.

“Cierra tus ojos.”

“Javier, I don’t want—”

He quickly cuts you off. “Do you trust me?”

Of course. Hell, you trusted him with your life.

And not just because it’s a job requirement.

Huffing, you do as he says and close your eyes.

“Good.” Javier places his other hand on your waist and his fingers brush against the patch of smooth, soft skin peeking out from between the waistband of your jeans and the hem of your blouse. Ignoring his burning desire to feel more of you, he leads the way into the living room and positions you in front of the tree. Without dropping your hand, he moves to stand directly behind you, chest pressed lightly against your back.“Puedes abrir tus ojos, bonita.”

“Look Peña, I don’t know what you’re up to but—”

Your own startled gasp cuts you off mid sentence.

Squeezing your hand, he leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear and you can feel his grin as he whispers, “Sorpresa, preciosa. Tienes un arbol de Navidad. Qué tal te parece?”

You open your mouth to speak, then clamp it shut.

His surprise had left you speechless.

Pleased with himself, Javi nudges you towards the tree and then drops his hands down at his sides as he watches you gingerly touch the needles.

Closing your eyes, you inhale deeply, the delicious, woodsy smell of pine reminding you of your family and how you’d all pile into your father’s old pickup truck and head to the Christmas Tree Farm to find the perfect white spruce to take home. Your father took great care in the picking process—he wanted the tallest, fluffiest, most fragrant tree. “Need this place to smell like the farm!” he’d boom. You smile and can’t help but to think he’d approve of Javi—if not because of what he had done for you, then the choice in tree would be enough to win him over.

“Do you like it?” he asks, softly.

You open your eyes and whirl around. “Javi, I can’t believe you did this,” you say, breathlessly. Smiling brighter than the lights on the Christmas tree, you throw your arms around him. “I love it so much!”

He savors the embrace—and wonders if you know just how perfectly you fit right in his arms.

“There’s one more surprise,” Javier informs you as he spins you around to look at the tree once again. “Do you see it?”

“See what?” Peering at the tree, you frown. “What am I supposed to be looking for—wait a second, is that—is that Clara?” Your hand flies to your mouth and you look up at him in complete shock. “That’s the ornament my grandmother made for me when I was a baby! I’ve had her since my first Christmas. How did you—?”

“Santa no cuenta sus secretos.” Javi grins, pulling you closer against his side. “But if you must know, your mom sent it to me,” he confesses. “Actually, I have to be honest—this whole thing was her idea.”

Perplexed, you ask, “This was my mom’s idea?”

“I know you’ve been having a hard time being here during the holidays instead of with your family,” he says. “I called her up a couple of weeks ago, asked her what I could do for you. We started talking and came up with this.” He shrugs and touches a hand to the back of his neck, sheepishly. “I know it’s not the same as going home. But I thought it might be nice to bring a little piece of home here to you.”

Warmth blossoms inside of your chest as you turn to face him. You place a hand on his chest. “Javi?”

Nervously, his throat bobs. “Yeah?”

“Why did you do this for me?”

Javier lifts his hand and tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. “I told you. I just want to see you happy.”

“But why?”

You know why.

But you need to hear him say it.

You need to hear it from his own mouth.

Javi’s hand moves to cup the side of your face. “Is it not obvious?” he murmurs as he grazes the silky soft skin over your cheekbone. “Tú bien sabes qué yo siento algo por ti, hermosa. Aunque no sientas igual.”

“How do you know I don’t feel the same for you?”

“Do you?” His thumb sweeps your bottom lip. “Do you feel the same for me?”

Your hand curls around his red plaid flannel.

“I shouldn’t,” you admit. “We’re work partners.”

He feigns offense. “Ouch. And here I was, thinking we were friends.” He now takes your chin between his index finger and his thumb. Licking his lips, his eyes meet yours. “Breaking my heart, baby.”

Your breath audibly catches. “We are friends—and it scares me to put our friendship on the line.”

“But?” he prompts as he tilts your head up toward his. His opposite hand finds your hip and pulls you closer to him.

“But when you do things like this—it’s hard for me not to fucking fall in love with you, Peña.” You drag your hand down his chest, your fingers relishing in the softness of his flannel. “It’s so fucking hard for me not to fall in love with somebody who feels like home.”

Javier’s chuckles softly.

“For the record, this wasn’t a ploy to get you to fall in love with me, corazón. But if it worked—” Javier pauses, dropping his hand from your face. “Then I guess it’s worth pulling this thing out.”

He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Javi, what the hell are you—?”

He grins, holding the mistletoe above your heads.

“Connie said this might come in handy.”

Your eyes flicker to his lips, then meet his gaze.

“Ven aqui, Peña.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull Javi in and crash your mouth against his. You brush his bottom lip with your tongue and he grants you the access you’re looking for. He tastes like spearmint and scotch, and something else too.

He tastes like yours.

And he feels like home.

diver credit to @saradika-graphics ❤️

Translations

Yo hablaré con Messina, cariño. - I’ll talk to Messina, darling.

No hay caso para eso, Javier. - There’s no point, Javier.

Dejame ayudarte con esto. Yo solo quiero verte feliz. - Let me help you with this. I just want to see you happy.

Ven conmigo, cielo. Tengo una sorpresa para ti. - Come with me, I have a surprise for you.

Cierra tus ojos. - Close your eyes.

Puedes abrir tus ojos, bonita. - You can open your eyes, pretty girl.

Sorpresa, preciosa. Tienes un arbol de Navidad. Qué tal te parch? - Surprise, precious girl. You have a Christmas tree. What do you think?

Santa no cuenta sus secretos. - Santa doesn’t tell his secrets.

Tú bien sabes qué yo siento algo por ti, hermosa. Aunque no sientes igual. - You know all too well I have feelings for you. Even if you don’t feel the same.

Ven aqui, Peña. - Come here, Peña.

[libraryofolive]

i have a drabble request and i hope it makes sense but i was thinking of when reader is dating jjk men (the usually group you do) and then you guys are out on a date or something but then they just propose out of nowhere or something along the lines 🥰 just thinking something like that would be cute🥹 love your work btw❤️🫶🏼

Proposals

featuring: Satoru Gojo, Choso Kamo, Suguru Geto (didn't defect au), Kento Nanami, Toji Fushiguro, Ryomen Sukuna (true form), Takuma Ino and Hiromi Higuruma

genre: pure fluff, drabbles

word count: 6k

a/n: Thank you so much for the request anon, I had a lot of fun with these! I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them!

Like this? You can find my other smaus here and my drabbles and fiics here!

Do you have a request? You can find my rules for requesting here!

To say Gojo was a nervous wreck was an understatement. You were quite possibly the only thing in the entire world that had his palms sweaty and his heart beating a little too quickly. He was Satoru Gojo, for crying out loud - he was the strongest sorcerer of the modern day, yet you had him reduced to a bundle of nerves akin to a blushing schoolboy. He was patting his pocket every time you looked away, checking again and again that that little square box was still there. He could take down a curse without breaking a sweat, so why was he so goddamn nervous?

Earlier that day, he had taken you out and pampered you to the extreme. He always spoiled you rotten, so this was nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, date nights were often date days, your loving Satoru taking you out to buy a new outfit especially for the date he was going to take you on that night, usually topping it off with a nice meal at some high end restaurant. You had no idea about the treasure hidden away in his blazer pocket, chalking his nervous jittering up to a sugar high.

After a delicious, albeit incredibly expensive meal, Satoru had convinced you to walk the scenic route back to your shared home. Calling it the ‘long way home’ may have been an understatement, as he lead you in the opposite direction you expected, heading further away from your apartment rather than towards it.

“Toru, my feet hurt. Can we please head home? I’m so tired.” You said after 15 minutes of walking.

“I promise baby, just a tiny bit longer. Then we’ll go straight home.” He pulled you along by your arm, practically dragging you along with him as his pace quickened and quickened. You sighed, giving in to his antics, knowing that when he got like this it was easier to just go along with him.

Eventually, he brought you to a clearing in a park, the trees covered in strings of fairy lights. You took in the scene before you, the warm glow from the fairy lights illuminating the clearing, and the flower petals lining the ground of it. Satoru gently took hold of both your hands, standing in front of you, a big smile on his face and tears glistening in his already captivating eyes.

“Baby, I have never been happier than when I’m with you. You have always supported me, even in my less than mature ideas. With you, I don’t have to be Satoru Gojo, the strongest. I can just be your Toru, your boyfriend who is head over heals in love with you. But that’s not enough for me anymore - would you, please, let me be your Toru, your husband? Will you marry me?”

When Nanako and Mimiko had burst into your room, claiming that Suguru had a big surprise for you that day, but they couldn’t tell you what it was, your interest was piqued pretty quickly. The girls were never the best at keeping secrets, often telling you all about what your boyfriend had planned for you out of sheer excitement. However, this time, when you asked them what he had planned, they went quiet and giggled. You pressed them a bit further, asking again what he had planned, but they just shook their heads and continued laughing. They refused to answer you, and this was certainly out of the ordinary.

Your earlier interaction with the girls was in the back of your mind throughout your date. You weren’t anxious, just.. anticipating what surprise could possibly so top secret not even the twins would tell you about it. Suguru seemed perfectly relaxed as the two of you wandered around the art gallery he had brought you to, often comparing you to the artwork adorning the walls. He knew you loved quiet outings like this, and he loved the way you stood and studied the art that filled the rooms. He held your hand the entire way around, happily letting you drag him between the pieces you wanted to admire as long as it meant he got to admire you.

Eventually your stomach started to rumble, so the two of you decided to head home. The thought of trying to cook wasn’t a pleasant one, and you find yourself hoping that you boyfriend’s big surprise was just getting some take out so you could both relax with your girls. Suguru had entrusted them to the care of their Uncle Gojo today, so you could have the whole day to yourselves, Suguru had said, but the way he smiled as he said it made you think it was part of the surprise they had warned you about.

You walked into your apartment, the sunset making the open living room glow. What took you back, though, was that the furniture had all been moved to the edges of the room, leaving a wide open space in the middle, flower petals covering the floor. Suguru led you to the middle of the room when soft music started playing from the speakers around the room.

“What’s going on?” You questioned, brow furrowing at your partner.

“You are the most amazing partner I could have ever asked for. You love me - and the girls - so unconditionally, and I don’t know how the hell we survived before I met you. You are the glue that holds our little family together, and you fight for us every single day. Just being around you makes my day so much brighter, we- I can’t live without you.”

“Suguru…” You whispered. As he started to sink onto one knee, everything clicked into place. This was what the girls were talking about earlier - your theory solidified by the high pitched giggles you heard coming from their bedroom. You peeled your eyes away from Suguru, looking over in that direction, and sure enough, you could see three eyes watching you through a crack in the door way.

“Gojo is watching you propose?” You giggled at Suguru.

“He what?” The man in front of you turned around, eyes narrowing at his best friend who stood in a poor attempt at hiding with the twins. He grumbled slightly before turning back around to face you. “Why did I trust him to help?”

“It’s okay baby, it’s all kind of perfect.” You reassured your lover.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you so much, it hurts. Will you marry me?”

Wining and dining you was Nanami’s specialty. Every restaurant he took you to was amazing - he knew all the best spots in town for whatever cuisine you might be in the mood for. You both loved food and eating well, especially if it meant enjoying a nice meal in each other’s company. However, this meant that when it was time to propose to you, Nanami felt like a simple candlelit dinner at a nice restaurant was too boring, too mundane. You two were always going out for dinner, so surely something as monumental as a proposal needed something more special, right?

He had thought about how to propose for months. Buying you a ring was the easy part, but actually planning his proposal? Nothing he could ever come up with felt good enough for you. You were so perfect, the light of his life, so he reasoned you deserved the perfect proposal too. Nothing too elaborate, he decided, as the more there was to it the more there was that could possibly go wrong.

You had noticed a slight change in your boyfriend over the last couple of months. He seemed more distant, more prone to zoning out. It worried you - every time you brought him back to the real world with a mention of his name he seemed flustered, his face going red, but also... frustrated? The first few times it happened, you brushed it off, guessing that something must have happened at work. Recently, though, it had been happening more and more often, which led to you confronting him one night.

That night, you had cooked a hearty meal together, opening one of your nicer bottles of wine. You decided to wait until after dinner to talk to your boyfriend, hoping that having full bellies - and a glass or two of wine - would take the edge of what could turn into a prickly conversation.

“Ken, we need to talk.” At your words, Nanami’s heart stopped. That was break up speech, he thought, if only he had been quicker with his proposal. Why did he fester on it for so long?

“Is everything okay, honey?” He tried to keep his cool, but his heart had started beating too quickly, as if it was trying to make up for his previous palpitation. His palms were sweaty as he reached for his glass, willing his hands not to shake.

“You’ve been a bit… distant, lately.”

“Distant?”

“Okay, maybe distant isn’t the right word for it. Distracted, maybe.”

“Distracted?” He hated himself for it, but Nanami stopped hearing your words as his thoughts spiralled. If he was listening, he’d know there was no chance you were ending the relationship, your words full of reassurance, offering comfort and to share whatever burden had him so distracted. But he wasn’t listening, instead internally freaking out over the fact that he thought you were going to break up with him because he was too busy thinking about how to fucking propose to you that he didn’t actually pay enough attention to you. That he was so fixated on making everything perfect for the currently fictional proposal he had negatively impacted the real relationship he had.

“Marry me.” He blurted out, interrupting you. You blinked at him, mouth open as if it was forming your next word, which it probably was before your partner spoke.

“What?” You gaped, eyebrows practically meeting your hairline.

“I- oh my god.” Nanami patted his pockets, shit, he had left the ring box in his blazer pocket. He had had the ring on his person ever since he bought it, heaven forbid he lose it or that you find it prematurely. Not that it mattered anymore, thanks to his impromptu proposal. He stood up, accidentally knocking the table as he did so. “Just - excuse me, for one moment. Stay there, please.” He rushed to where he had previously discarded the blazer of his suit, which was hanging on the back of your shared bedroom’s door.

“Kento, did you just- come back, we should talk about this.” You stood up, ready to follow him, also knocking into the table, but you managed to tip over your wine glass. “Shit.” You reached for some tissues to mop up the spilt wine as Nanami emerged from your shared bedroom, holding a small box.

“I am so sorry, my love. This was not how I imagined doing this.” He got on one knee, opening the box to reveal a stunning engagement ring, “You mentioned me being distracted earlier, and I have to admit, I have been. But only because I have been agonising over how to ask you one simple question - really, who knew four little words would bring me such frustration? You deserved a proposal as wonderful as you are, and I can’t begin to explain how happy you make me. My whole life I was just floating around, doing what everyone told me I should without real meaning. But you, being with you, brought me the meaning that I was missing. I apologise for being distracted sweetheart, and for just blurting this out without a real plan, but the thought of you leaving me-”

“Who the hell mentioned me leaving you-”

“The thought of you leaving me had me so distraught that I just had to ask. Please, darling, will you marry me?”

When it came to proposing to you, Choso went straight to his brother for advice. With all the films Yuji had watched, Choso reasoned he must have some ideas about how to go about it, or at least how it was supposed to go. Yuji had told Choso a basic formula he could adapt to suit you - buy a nice ring, big romantic gesture, down on one knee and ask the question after a big romantic speech. Surely it couldn’t be that difficult, right?

Wrong. Choso was stressed. He loved how observant you are, how well tuned you can be to his thoughts and feelings, but God did he wish you’d turn it off sometimes. It was great when he came home after a long day, and he didn’t have to say anything, you just knew he was upset and knew exactly what to do to help him. But when you had picked up on his nerves, and he didn’t have a lie prepared to get you off his back (not to mention just how bad Choso was at lying to you in particular) he had stuttered out some lame excuse as to why he was so nervous. Okay, maybe not a lame excuse, but rather a crazy, completely over the top one.

“I’m only nervous, because…erm…” his face heated up, “Yuji is in the hospital!” Choso had smiled, proud of himself for making up an excuse on the spot. But to you, Choso had a mad grin on the face at the thought of his younger brother - who meant the entire world to him - being in the hospital. Yeah, you called bullshit. You had seen Choso freak out because Yuji had once nicked his finger when chopping vegetables one night whilst he helped Choso cook dinner. If Yuji was in the hospital, Choso would be sat next to him close to tears. Your boyfriend never lied to you, and your eyes narrowed in suspicion. However, the thought of seeing just how far Choso would take this lie was an interesting one, so you decided to play along.

“Yuji’s in the hospital?” You forced your voice to sound concerned, “what happened? Is he okay? We should be there! Let’s go, now!”

“Er, no.”

“No? What do you mean no? You’re little brother’s in the hospital, he needs your support right now!”

“I, er, I didn’t mean no, I mean that erm, we can’t, because er, visiting hours are over! We have to leave him be so he can rest.” Oh how his blushing face and proud-of-himself smile made him so adorable. Why did he have to be so cute when he was lying to you?

“I- then we’ll go sit in the waiting room or something. He’s like my little brother too, Cho, I want to make sure he’s okay.” Choso’s heart swelled at your words, at your insistence to go and check on Yuji, even if it was thwarting his plans slightly. If anything, it only made him more sure that he wanted to marry you, to be yours forever. Family was everything to Choso - Yuji was everything to Choso - so knowing that you cared so fiercely about him too was the best feeling in the world.

“Okay. We’ll head over there now.” He conceded, grabbing his keys. You didn’t expect that to be his answer - shit, was Yuji actually in the hospital? Was he okay? What was going on? Choso was freaking out just as much as you were. Why did he say that? Would everything be ready? You would be there hours earlier than planned. Wow, he thought, I really suck at this.

The two of you climbed into Choso’s car, him driving. The car was full of nervous energy and an awkward silence filled only by the radio. “Are you sure we’re heading the right way, Cho? I thought the hospital was in the other direction?” You eventually asked him. What the ever loving fuck was going on? Were you being kidnapped? He had been acting weird lately, was this why?

“We just have to make one stop on the way. I promise we won’t be too long.” Choso smiled at you in what he thought was a reassuring way, but it just made your suspicion grow. Eventually he brough you to… a strawberry picking field?

“Cho, as cute as it is that you brought me to where we had our first date, I really think we should head to the hospital if Yuji’s there. Reminiscing can wait.” You said, on edge.

“Please, just, trust me?” You nodded your head sceptically, giving in to your boyfriend’s whims. He grabbed your hand excitedly, pulling you along with him to the end of the field. There you saw a pink head of hair that was undeniably Yuji - at least you knew that your initial guess was right and that Yuji was okay - but then what the hell did the two brothers have planned? You were swimming in questions, the lake full of them that was your mind only getting deeper with every step.

“Cho, you’re early! I just finished setting up.” Yuji also looked nervous. You halted your steps, demanding answers from the boys.

“I’m not taking another step until the two of you tell me what is going on. You told me Yuji was in the hospital, Choso. I didn’t believe you at first, but then you started acting really weird and I got worried and thank God he’s okay but what the fuck are you two up to?”

“You told her I was in the hospital?” Yuji turned to his brother, confusion all over his face.

“Please, lovely. Everything will make sense in a few minutes. Just trust me for a tiny bit longer? Please?”

“Yeah, c’mon y/n. I’ve been setting this surprise up all day. Trust us?” They both turned to you, matching puppy dog eyes pleading with you on both their faces. It was times like this where you could really see the family resemblance.

“Fine.” You sighed, making Choso pick up your hand again and drag you another 100 metres or so. There you found a big picnic all set out, complete with the cliché plaid blanket and wicker picnic basket. It was overflowing with all of your favourite foods, and there were a few battery powered tea lights scattered about. You took a few steps forward in surprise, taking it all in.

“What- what is this?” You tuned back to face your boyfriend, only to be met with him on one knee, holding up a pretty ring in a box that resembled a strawberry. Yuji was off to one side, filming the two of you on his phone, a wide smile on his face as he gave Choso a thumbs up in encouragement. A gasp escaped you, your face breaking out into a wide grin.

“Family is everything to me,” Your boyfriend started, “you’ve always known that. You treat my family as your own, you always have. I mean, you were just freaking out because I accidentally told you Yuji was in the hospital-” ”You’re such a bad liar, baby-”

“I know.” He chuckled, “You love and accept me, and always have. But when I saw that love and care extend to my brother, well I knew I had to marry you. My whole life, I’ve been told I’m just half curse - a monster. But with you, I’ve always felt so human, so whole. I’m addicted to that feeling, to your love, to you, I, I can’t live without you. I won’t live without you. So, will you marry me?"

A proposal from Sukuna, was, well, less of a question and more of a command. You were one of his concubines - the key word being ‘were’ because for a long time now you had been more than that to him, not that he wanted to admit it. He still kept the other concubines around, sure, but that was for reputation more than anything. Dismissing those other women would mean the king of curses admitting that he felt something for you, something you never thought he would do. Until now.

You were summoned to his throne room - not the most unusual thing in the world, sometimes Sukuna liked to have a pretty thing like you on his lap to show off to the servants as he went about his business as the King of Curses. As you made your way to it, the rest of the estate was eerily quiet. Often you would walk past the other concubines, their teasing laughs and scathing remarks made out of jealousy following you around. The King of Curses had never had favourites before, treating all of his concubines equally (like scum on the bottom of his shoe, the way he had always treated everyone) until you captivated him. All of a sudden his attention was solely on you, wanting only you to warm his bed or decorate his arm.

You arrived to the throne room, and there was Sukuna in all his might, his usual cocky smirk decorating his face. The entire estate was there, watching you - it made you pause. Sukuna beckoned you over, and you find your place in his lap. One pair of his arms situated themselves around your waist, and one of his remaining hands cupped your face. He brought your lips to his own, kissing you hungrily. At this point, you had grown out of being embarrassed at such public displays - everyone was beneath Sukuna, so why should he care what they thought of him and his actions? If he wanted to kiss you, hold you, perhaps even take you, why would the presence of these people stop him?

He pulled away from you, still holding your face.

“You are to be my queen.” He said.

“What?” You were taken aback, brows furrowing.

“You are going to marry me and become my queen. You are to permanently move into my chambers, and a tailor will be with you later today for fittings.”

“Sukuna, my lord-”

“Are you trying to deny me?” His gaze turned ice cold, enough to induce a shiver down you spine and goosebumps along your arm. His grip on your waist tightened in warning.

“No! Of course not, my Lord!” His grip relaxed.

“Good. We will discuss this no more. You will wear this as proof that you are mine.” He produced a ring, slipping it onto your finger. It was beautiful, you had to admit, and it fit you like a glove. You wished that his proposal could have been more romantic, or at least a bit more private, but this was Sukuna, what could you really expect?

You and Toji Fushiguro had been dating for two years now, and you were incredibly happy. You had been one of Megumi’s teachers, drawn to his handsome father but refusing to act on your feelings, deciding it would be improper to fraternize with the parent of one of your students. However, on Megumi’s last day of school, and the last day of being your student, Toji showed up to collect Megumi, but not leaving until you had agreed to go on a date with him. It was the beginning of a joyous - if sometimes tumultuous - relationship.

You knew about Toji’s first marriage with Megumi’s mother. He had told you briefly about it at the beginning of your relationship, and you had learnt more details as the relationship progressed. Because of it, you had never expected marriage out of Toji, especially with the connotations of loss he held with it. What you didn’t know, however, was that as Toji learnt to love again - through loving you - he realised that marrying you wouldn’t take away from his previous marriage. He saw how your eyes sometimes lingered on wedding dresses in the windows of shops you passed by, or the way you so eagerly fawned over your friends’ engagement rings. Soon he was thinking about how he would propose to you, and before he knew it, he was buying a ring.

It was a simple proposal - all-out romantic gestures were never really Toji’s thing. He took you out for a nice dinner, for which he dressed himself up in a suit. Seeing him all dressed up set off bells in your head, not quite alarm bells, bur rather a signal that something was happening on your date. Toji never got dressed up unless something was truly important, hell, you had to force him into a pair of slacks when he met your parents. So Toji dressing smartly out of his own accord? Yeah, something was going on.

The restaurant he took you to was fancy. What was even fancier was that Toji had reserved the terrace completely for the two of you, which was entirely lit with the soft glow of candlelight. The two of you enjoyed your meal together, but you couldn’t help but wonder what your boyfriend was up to. Once your desserts were clear, and you two were on your last drink of the evening, Toji slid a small velvet box your way over the table.

“Oh? A gift?” You asked.

“Yeah, you could say that.” Toji’s voice was quiet, the way it sometimes gets when he’s nervous.

“What’s the occasion?” You gently picked up the box, opening it to reveal the elegant ring inside. You gasped.

“Doll, I love you so much.” Toji’s words were slow, and those that don’t know him may mistake them as hesitant. But you knew they were only slow to keep in emotions that were threatening to overflow. “After my first wife died, I was so lost- I didn’t know what to do with myself. But then I saw you with Megs, looking all pretty in that summer dress you were wearing, so kind, that I went insane. I spent that entire year trying to pluck up the courage to ask you out, and on the last day I knew it was my last chance. You said yes, and I looked crazy, couldn’t stop smiling - even Megumi asked if I was okay. And every day since, you just keep making me happier and happier. Will you marry me?”

When it came to Ino Takuma wanting to propose to you, there was one person he knew exactly who to ask for advice. But when he explained everything to his mentor, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed with Nanami’s answer.

“To be perfectly honest, Ino, I’m not sure if I can help you with this. It should be completely from you. Just be genuine and speak from the heart. I’ve seen the way the two of you look at each other, I’m sure they will be happy with whatever you come up with.” Be genuine. Speak from the heart. Ino could do that! But proposals are a big deal, and he wanted to do something romantic for you. A surprise of some sort. But what? He wanted it to be as special as you are to him, something that showed you just how much he loved you. Ino spent a long time thinking about it, probably a little bit longer than he would like to admit.

Eventually, he settled on an intimate proposal, just the two of you. He brought you to an open field with a bunch of your favourite snacks packed for an evening of stargazing. Your evening was perfect - a nice night out with your favourite person in the world, spending hours laughing and enjoying each other’s company (and making out), just the two of you.

Although, you picked up on your boyfriend’s nervous energy pretty quickly. He was jittery, and he kept patting his pockets like he was scared of losing something. You clocked on to the fact that he had something else for your night planned, but were clueless as to what. He also kept sighing, as if he was working up the courage to say something, before chickening out again. Eventually, you couldn’t take it much longer. The two of you were lead out on the picnic blanket, your head on his chest, one of his arms around you and the other under his head when you finally asked.

“Is everything okay, Takuma? You seem to be sighing a whole lot over there.” You lifted your head to look up at him, resting your chin on his chest.

“What? Yeah, all good baby. You don’t have to worry about me!” Ino smiled at you, but there was still a nervous energy surrounding him. You let it go, though, until it happened again.

“Okay, that’s it.” You sat up, making your boyfriend prop himself up on his forearms to look at you, eyebrow’s raised, “I appreciate that you want this to be a cute date night, but I can’t just sit here and relax if something’s bothering you. Talk to me ‘Kuma, what’s up?”

“Nothing’s bothering me, per se, I’m just nervous ‘bout something.”

“Nervous? About what?” You asked as you watched Ino stand up, before lowering himself onto one knee.

“About this.” He brought the ring box out of his pocket, opening up to reveal the ring he had bought you. Any words you wanted to say got caught in your throat as tears welled up in your eyes. “You are just, so amazing. I can’t fathom the idea of not being with you. When I first saw you, I knew that you were going to be the person I ask to marry me. You’re so kind, and thoughtful, and beautiful, and I just love you so, so much. Will you marry me?”

Recently, your handsome lawyer of a boyfriend had been incredibly busy with work. You couldn’t blame him, knowing how busy his firm had gotten and how dedicated he was to his clients, desperately trying to get them that ‘not guilty’ verdict. As much as you didn’t hold any malice to Hiromi Higuruma for his busy schedule, you couldn’t help but miss your lover. He was leaving for work earlier and earlier, and returning home later and later, to the point where there were days you didn’t see him at all, the only evidence of his presence being the crumpled sheets on his side of the bed. Before long, you brought up your feelings to him, surprising him at work one day and forcing him to take a lunch break for once. He understood your every word, and the two of you decided you would go on a much needed date that weekend, so that you could really spend some quality time together.

What you didn’t know, though, was that whilst yes, one of the reasons for Hiromi’s absence from home was due to an increased workload, another was for planning a proposal, which he had planned to take place that weekend. So when you told him that you missed him, his heart hurt, but when you suggested a date that weekend he eagerly agreed - telling you to leave all of the planning up to him. You had protested, claiming that he already had enough on his plate, and that you could handle this, but he refused the idea. He had been planning this for weeks, after all.

It started with him surprising you with a bunch of sunflowers at your workplace on the Friday, along with a note instructing you to go to a certain address when you went on your lunch break. Your colleagues noticed how much more chipper you were that day, and their questions were answered with you sighing happily and gushing over your boyfriend. You went to the address Hiromi had given you, finding yourself at a nail salon. You went in and told the technician what had happened earlier that day, to which she smiled knowingly and asked you how you wanted your nails doing. Confused, you told her you didn’t have an appointment, to which she informed you that your boyfriend had made one on your behalf, instructing them to charge it to his card and to tell you to let him treat you and to get whatever you wanted.

You returned to work, admiring your freshly done nails, but stomach grumbling. Between getting to the salon, getting your nails done and getting back to work you hadn’t had any time to buy some food, and you had left your lunch at home. However as you sat down at your desk you found your favourite take out waiting for you, with a note.

Enjoy, my love. There are more surprises to come. - H

Your heart swelled with love for your boyfriend. He was pampering you to the extreme, as if he was giving you all of the attention you had craved for the past few weeks in one day.

The rest of the work day was uneventful, until Hiromi himself came to pick you up from work. A weekend getaway, he explained. He had already packed for you, and the two of you were leaving immediately. He couldn’t get distracted by his work if he wasn’t near any of his work, he had reasoned. So you let him whisk you away to a log cabin in the woods that he had rented for the weekend for the two of you. The broad grin you were wearing never left your face as the two of you drove, happy to once again have the undivided attention of your lover.

Your first night in the cabin, the two of you cooked together and had a quiet night in to recharge from a busy work week together. The next day, though, was planned in excruciating detail by your boyfriend.

It started with a hearty breakfast, before spending the day at a woodland spa together. Then, it was back to the cabin to get ready for a nice meal at a local restaurant, and then a late night walk to the lake that was a short distance away from your cabin. All in all, it was a relaxing day spent at each other’s side, catching up on all the time together the two of you had missed recently. As you got to the lake, you stood taking photos of it on your phone, the beauty of the scene, lit up in the silver moonlight, rendering you speechless. What left you more speechless, though, was when you turned around to try to convince your boyfriend to take a picture with you. But when you turned around, he was on one knee.

“My love, I have to apologise for being so busy these past few weeks. It’s true that my workload got bigger, but it also coincided with me planning this weekend for you, so that I could ask you this question. You mean everything to me. You are my reason for waking up in the morning, and are the last thing I think about before I fall asleep. You keep me sane, you stop me from working myself into an early grave, and I find no other comfort that can compare to being in your arms. Will you marry me?”

[chocsra]

yknow tht chuuyas friend got killed during the dragon head conflicts, right?(source dead apple) yea, wht if reader was one of them. letter fics reader confessing her love to chuuya and him finding it after she died.

"Tainted With Sin, Weakness Comes From Love."

16! Chuuya x implied fem! reader

summary: chuuya finds your letters to him after your death in the dragon head conflict

content: angst, heavy mentions of death, swearing

There, the boy remained victorious.

Others would furrow their brows, feel their heart clench into an impending drop. The utter and impeccable fear of such a small body, a young boy who yearned for nothing but a reason - a purpose, holding such power. He was as if he was sculpted by a passionate artist, a woman who presented herself as a 'mother' - soft orange locks, the ever glow of his skin that never left his face, and a harmonic assortment of features, those features that made him special. A child who was stringed together like a melodic harp by a mother is every child, and that was Nakahara Chuuya. He too, was a child.

At least, he felt like one.

"Chuuya," A tall, ginger woman speaks solemnly, clasping her hands together elegantly, as always. "here - [Y/N]'s stuff." Kouyou passes a large cardboard box to the boy; items like notebooks, pens, photos, and sticky notes. It had only been 14 days after the Dragon Head Conflict, and yet, the world's lost all sense of art: skies have been less blue, birds more or so melodically sing mantras of sorrow, rather than blissful chirps. Maybe it was because of his comrades who died, maybe it's because you were one of them, or maybe, it's his brain using his frustration with the world against him. In this box, consider it pandora's box of humanity - perhaps the sight alone brightened the sky, awakened the birds. You existed, and so, he longs to feel your existence once more. Be it through letters.

Chuuya runs his fingers along a folder of letters you've written. He'll close his eyes and pretend it's your skin - he'll close his eyes and make out each indent of each thought, each question you held for the universe on that paper.

Dear Chuuya,

Happy Birthday! You finally turned 16, loser. You're all over the Port Mafia, you know? Double Black is so goddamn popular I've been approached by people I don't know asking if we're friends. So ahem, here are my birthday wishes for my boy best friend - the only one I share my gossip to that isn't a girl.

You get taller.

You find out what the hell happened before you were 8.

A girl would finally like you or something - rare, I know.

You finally get a dog. PLEASE shut up about it :)

Thank you for being my friend, even though you lose your shit when we play UNO with Albatross. Get good, kid.

Sincerely,

- [Y/N].

The redhead can practically feel himself scoffing, even though it was more like a chuckle, before sealing the letter once again; a small smile tugging on his lips even though he finds himself wiping a bit of tears from his cheeks.

"Why did it have to be you?.." Chuuya chuckles, swallowing thickly to cover the strain of tears spilling out. Crystal tears were never a threat to the boy - once again, such things like a heart doesn't suit him - yet, he finds it ironic. Maybe you had it all along.

The boy, molded by the hands of divinity, stringed together by an otherworldly being, was nothing divine. Nakahara Chuuya reigned from torture, yearned for retribution, and became an artist - one acquired dazzlingly with revenge. He took the vessel of himself he loathed and despised it with his entire being. Arahabaki was no divine being, nor a mother who lovingly caressed and loved with dainty hands. He was a monster, Chuuya was too. But from the rippling shackles he's restrained himself to, there was an angel, sacred and divine, who chided him for his hatred, his sorrows, his regrets. You too, knew how it was like to lose, to betray and be betrayed, and yet, you would never bring those to him again, but it seems once again, you've failed.

You were an angel, his angel, a light in the sky that he never failed to follow. And yet, you too fell from heaven's gate. Chuuya, who has been by your side for years, never dare touch you - Nakahara Chuuya may taint you with his sin, ruin the wings that guide him through the light. But shit, as an artist of revenge - he'll repaint it with regret.

To grow from a child, child of hatred to man of soul, touch will remold him to his feet. Rebuke his despondency. Chuuya regrets, for his only reminder of your skin was your life slipping through his fingers like ash.

To be Chuuya's angel was to lace his hair in between your words.

To be Chuuya's angel meant you were going to be immortalized.

To be Chuuya's angel meant that was only going to happen once he's lost you.

Yet he still flips the page.

Dear Chuuya,

I like you.

I thought love was foolish. A four letter word, and one syllable of absolute bullshit. Love is only a fixation in TV shows and movies. Love is a weakness, and contrary to popular belief - love cannot save you.

But you saved me. Countless of times.

The first being when I botched an assignment miserably. I was about to sacrifice myself before you kicked all the enemies' asses! You even took the blame for me.

The second was when I ate too much during a celebration and you had to bring me home safely.

The third was when you didn't say anything after I farted in a closed elevator.

Maybe you're stronger than love, then. You're Chuuya Nakahara, the strongest ability user in the world. But, even if I fell for you - it's not because of your strength, or protection. I genuinely like you, Nakahara Chuuya, not the strongest ability user, but the boy who sought a past, the boy who longs for a wine collection, the boy who cries watching dog movies, the boy who thinks chokers are a fashion statement.

Don't think because you define yourself as Arahabaki I will too. You're so much more than that.

But eh, who cares anyway, its not like you know how to read or write.

Love,

- [Y/N].

The boy who sought a past, felt himself shatter, because now he actually he had one. A best friend of his memories. An angel only in his dreams. A desire he could only do so much but reminisce. But contradictory to your previous statement, Nakahara Chuuya could read, even write now.

All because you taught him.

[py-dreamer]

Man I am on a roll these days!

I love this doll base for the lmk characters, I actually drew some designs for the other lmk characters in this base in a notebook and as much as I would like to post them, Idk if that'll be any time soon.

I know in the show, Mk's headband is his signature. Even since childhood, I get that but I also saw a design of kid MK with him without the headband and fell in love.

Also he has light up sketchers. Cause why not.

It was a lot of fun doing the crayon drawings and seems like red and yellow are our lil prince's favorite colors, though it was a bit difficult to do them on such a small scale and at a slanted angle.

why does Mk have random building blocks?....

...

(I genuinely don't know)

Looking back, I do wish I made the toys a little more scuffed up cause while I do believe Pigsy would buy some toys and new clothes for his son the kid but I do love the idea that many of MK's old toys were hand me downs or at least second handed from Pigsy's past or even any cousins giving old toys or heck. Maybe some of Tang's university students found out their teacher has a new kid and give some old stuff to help out since Mk is a sweet kid and his appearance was quite spontaneous.

Perhaps that doll is a clone Wukong placed to keep an extra eye on the boy

BTW that love heart is NOT romantic in any way you creeps. Like how a child loves a toy, there is nothing weird happening here.

WUKONG IS HIS GODDAMN DAD/FATHER FIGURE AND IF YOU GENUINELY SHIP PEACHYNOODLES, GET OUT

OUT OF THIS HOUSE!

I try to respect different ships and opinions. I try my best.

But we see in the show, their father-son dynamic. I know there is a ship format of mentor x student but there is a clear parental relationship here!

It just feels icky, especially when you consider the inbalance of both power and experience in any 'romantic' context

Sorry, I just went on a tangent there, but hope you enjoy the actual piece and enjoy the easter eggs (>u ')/

(also out of curiosity, are any of you interested in the stopmotion film, Kubo and the two strings cause there might be a new au on the horizon!)

[wh0re43van]

Sparks (Evan Peters X Reader)

Summary: You’re a set director on American horror story’s Freakshow. Evan has been trying to convince you to ‘smoke and chill’ for months, but you’ve always rejected him in fear of jeopardizing your job. After a particularly stressful shoot, Evan finally convinces you to spark with him.

Warnings: intense smut, face fucking, choking, drug use.

Word count: 3k

A/n: This is my first time writing in awhile so I’m bit rusty

"Hey y/n I just re-upped,” Evan announces as he walks up behind me.  “He's got the best homegrown around and It's cured perfect every time. Come to my place tonight and I'll let you sample," He offers as he slips an arm around my shoulder. "You don't even have to match, just give me something else in return," he says lowly in my ear. My heart skips a beat and my cheeks blush red. Evans been blatantly flirting with me since we started shooting. It's been my own personal hell having to reject such a perfect man because its 'not professional to have personal relations with the cast'.

"Evan," I sigh as I look up at his dark eyes. "I honestly would love to-" he cuts me off.

"Then consider it y/n," he simply states. I smile at him. I have to admit that he's starting to wear me down

"Evan, I have to finish my walk through before the shooting starts" I turn back to the counter to consult my mockup. He backs up and leans against the wall.

"I’ll just keep you company then," he grins.

•

•

‘Fuck’ I curse internally as I run from a very angry Mr. Murphy. One of my idiot crew members forgot to do their only job and set out the menus for the next scene. We’re an hour behind on filming and we’re only here for three days. The director is pissed to say the least.

I throw open the door to the storage room and start ripping open boxes. I swear I'm going to lose every last ounce of sanity I have left. We started shooting two hours ago and I've rolled my ankle, got broken glass stuck in my hand, and of course, been bitched at constantly.

"Did you find them?" Evan questions as he closes the door behind him.

"What?" I ask, not processing what he's saying as I rip haphazardly through every single cardboard box in this room, brown paper flying everywhere.

"Did you-" He begins to repeat, then pauses. I feel him grab my arm gently, stopping my whirlwind of motion. "Y/N," he says calmy.

"What Evan?" I snap at him. I can feel the stress dripping out of every pore of my body. Turns out stress smells a lot like sweat. Evan jumps a bit at my tone, then simply points his 'lobster claw' to a box of pink menus that I opened without even realizing it. I was so stressed and overwhelmed I didn't even realize I found the goddamn menus four boxes ago.

I groan and lay my head on Evans chest.

"I'm such a fucking stupid idiot." I mumble his white shirt, feeling tears well up in my eyes. Evan chuckles and clumsily lifts my chin up with his makeup bound hands. His smile immediately drops when he sees my face.

"Hey y/n don't cry," he coos, his voice laced with concern.

"Evan I'm losing my mind," I sniffle as he pulls me into a hug.

"You know what you need?" He asks I shake my head 'yes.'

"A blunt." We both say in unison. I feel his cheek stretch into a smile against mine, proud of himself for finally convincing me.

•

•

My hand shakes as I ring the doorbell to Evans hotel room.

“Ma’ Lady,” Evan bows as he opens the door for me. What a dork.

“Thank you good sir,” I attempt a curtsy as I walk in. I guess were both dorks.

We chuckle as he latches the door behind me.

“Right this way,” he ushers me to his balcony looking over the city. I step out onto the cool concrete, hearing Heaven Beside You by Alice in Chains playing. There's two bean bag chairs set up with a bundle of blankets on each one. Purple and white string lights hang all around the ceiling and railing of the small balcony.

“Wow Evan, this is really cool. I’m impressed with how you spend your free time,” I admit, sitting down in one of the chairs, pulling a blanket into my lap.

“Actually,” he sits down in the chair beside me as he picks up the rolling tray. “I’ve never done this before. I set all of this up as soon as I got home,” he chuckles.

“I don’t even know what to say,” I tell him honestly. I’m dumbfounded. This might seem like a small gesture, but this is one of the sweetest things anyone’s done for me. He went out of his way just for me.

“Then don’t say anything. Just grab me that bong,” he grins, pointing to the glass sitting on the ground next to the door. I stand up and bend over to pick up the simple clear bong, feeling Evans gaze burn into the back of me. When I hand him the piece, I get close enough to his face to see that his eyes are already glossy.

“Evan Peters,” I tisk. “did you start with out me?” I ask putting my hand to my chest in faux offense.

“I was a little nervous, I’ve been waiting for this for so long… I was scared if I was sober I’d mess it up,” he admits. His pale cheeks tinting pink.

“I’m flattered,” I smile. He opens the metal grinder sitting on his lap and begins to pack the bowl. “but it is rude to start a sesh before your guest arrives.” He hands me the packed bong.

“Well how’s bout you get this all to yourself and we call it even,” he wagers. I take the bong with a smile, accepting his offer. As I put the cool glass to my lips, I reach for the lighter on Evans thigh, but he snatches it, looking me in the eyes as he flicks the zippo, igniting a hot bright flame that he circles around the bowl. He begins to pull the flame away, but I grab his hand to hold the light in place for a couple more seconds. His eyes widen a bit and he smiles.

“Damn I’m glad I didn’t want any,” he chuckles, finally pulling away to spark his own joint. I pull the stem and inhale the milky smoke sharply, holding it in my lungs for bit before exhaling slowly. The smoke clouds around my face before a small gust of wind disperses it.

“Yeah, me to,” I grin softly as Evan takes another hit off his joint. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but with the past few weeks I’ve had, I’m goanna need a lot more than some weed to recover from all this stress,” I take another hit and lay my head back in the soft chair, finally feeling my muscles relax as the golden light flows through every nerve of my body. I turn my head and open my heavy eyes to look up at Evan.

“Wow that is bad,” he says, staring at something in the distance. I take this moment to truly admire the man beside me. The purple lights cascade onto his sharp features, violet pin pricks reflect in his coffee-colored eyes. The wind blows his loose brown curls around on his forehead as a rough hand holds the paper filter up to his pink lips. The end of the cone glows crimson as his chest rises, taking in a hit of hot smoke. Evan looks down at me to finish his thought. Had I been sober, I would have quickly looked away. But right now, nothing could tear my eyes from this perfect image in front of me. Evans’ eyes lock into mine as he releases the smoke slowly out through his mouth and nose. “Y/n, I-“ he begins, but before he can finish, I sit up and pull his face into mine. Gently kissing him, the smell of smoke mixed with his cologne is intoxicating all on its own. He tenses for a moment, processing what had just happened, before putting his hand on my back to bring me closer.

“I’m sorry,” I pull away suddenly feeling embarrassed for being so forward. Evan looks at me with wide eyes and flushed cheeks for a second before furrowing his brow,

“Are you kidding me,” ashes fall from his joint onto his pants, reminding him of its presence. He takes small drag before finishing. “That’s all I’ve wanted since the moment I saw you.” I smile at his confession. He holds the joint to my lips offering me a hit. We hold eye contact as I pull the smoke into my mouth, then to my lungs. “You’re beyond beautiful y/n,” he compliments. I lean into kiss him, shot gunning the smoke to him. He kisses hard and inhales the smoke as if it’s his last breath. He sits the joint in the ash tray then puts his hand on the back of my head, gently but firmly, so I don’t pull away this time, Evan exhales the smoke though his nose, so he doesn’t have to break the kiss. I clumsily crawl into his lap to straddle him, and his hands instinctively grab my ass. The heat from his hands warming me through the thin fabric of my leggings. I feel hungry, starving for more and more of him. As my knees sink into the soft chair around him, I begin to grind my hips against his.

“Evan,” I breath out, begging to feel more of his skin on mine. He looks at me with lust filled eyes and kiss bruised lips as I begin to lift his shirt up. He grabs my hand gently.

“Let’s go inside, darling,” he whispers. “You never know if one of those creeps are near by.” He looks around, checking for paparazzi. I was puzzled for a second, before remembering Evans’ status. I nod and climb off him. He stands, his dark jeans tented at the crotch and his white t-shirt rising and falling quickly on his chest. He grabs my hand to guide me inside.

“Can’t forget this,” I grin, stopping to grab a fresh blunt and the zippo. He chuckles as I spark the cone. He pulls me into his lounge, locking the door and closing the blinds. After I had a few hits, I hand the joint to Evan as I sit down on the leather couch.

“We don’t have to do anything more than this if you don’t want y/n,” he almost whispers through the smoke, sitting down next to me. I look into his desperate eyes as he hands me the warm paper.

“Please,” I inhale. “Please Evan I need you,” I beg the stoned man in front of me. With that, in one swift move, he takes the cone from my hand, putting it on the side table ash tray, removes his shirt and smashes his lips to mine, laying me down on the sofa. His kisses trail from my lips to my ear. Grabbing my throat gently he whispers. “You have no idea how desperate I am for you,” all I can do is moan in response my brain too high off THC and lust to form a coherent thought. His kisses continue trailing down my neck as his fingers work with the buttons on my black flannel. He smiles like a child when he sees that I have nothing underneath the warm button up. His mouth quickly drops to one breast swirling his warm tongue around as his hand massages my other breast, sending me into a fit of pleasure. After giving the same treatment to the other side, he rips off my leggings. He grabs the waistband of my thong. “May I?” he asks with heavy bloodshot eyes.

“Please,” I nod. He wastes no time removing the flimsy fabric and spreading my already trembling legs. He dips a long finger into my heat, groaning at how slick I already am.

“All this, just for me?” He licks the fluid off his finger, just to dip it back inside of me and out once more. “Have a taste baby,” he reaches his finger up and I close my mouth around it, licking seductively, making sure to keep eye contact.

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself. “Good girl,” he praises with a kiss on my nose. He quickly dips his head back down, licking from my entrance up to my clit, sucking and licking with expertise, earning a loud moan and a string of profanities from me. I quickly feel my orgasm building in my stomach, but its not enough.

“Evan, I need you to fuck me, please,” I whimper. He pulls his head up, his mouth and chin shimmering. I definitely didn’t need to ask twice. He jumps up dropping his pants and boxers allowing his perfect cock to spring free, giving himself a few good pumps. I shiver at the sight. Evan dips his head down to my core one last time, giving me a kiss then allowing a trail of warm spit to drip down and trickle to my entrance. The sight is enough to make me melt into this sticky leather couch. Evan lines his length up with me, pulling my hips up and guiding me onto his dick. Slowly filling me, stopping halfway in allowing me to adjust, but I don’t want it. I buck my hips forward, making him bottom out immediately. A string of curses leaves both our lips as he pokes at my stomach from the inside. He begins thrusting quickly, taking the hint that I’m not  wanting to make love tonight. Evans’ toned body begins to shimmer with sweat as he brings a strong hand to my throat squeezing the sides, making me just lightheaded enough to intensify the pleasure. He looks down at me, biting his lip, as he watches my face contort in pleasure from what he’s doing to me. The louder I moan, the harder he pounds into me. My breathing starts to hitch with each thrust as I clench around him.

“Evan I’m going to-” before I can finish my sentence, he pulls out completely, making me groan from the sudden empty feeling. I curse and open my mouth to question him.

“Turn over,” he demands as he stands up. I obey and begin to shift on the couch. “hands and knees.” He specifies, slapping me hard on the ass, I cant help but giggle as the sting lingers on my sweaty skin. I prop myself up on my forearms on the arm of the couch and spread my legs, wiggling my ass a bit as wait for Evan to fill me back up.

“Your body is so perfect,” he says as grabs and kisses my ass before I feel him line himself up again, quickly thrusting in to satisfying the ache in the empty space he left behind in my stomach. Once he finds his rhythm, I feel his hand snake around my throat and the other around my torso as he pulls me flush against him. My shoulders press against his as I arch my back. In this new potion, he hits my g spot perfectly.

“Shit Evan! Yes please,” I pant. “just like this. Please fuck me just like this! Don’t stop,” I plead as I squeeze his strong arms that are wrapped around me. Even groans lowly at the praise.

“I need you to cum y/n,” he whispers in my ear, reaching down to rub circles on my clit. “Can you do that for me, gorgeous?” All I can do is moan and nod my head ‘yes’. His thrust propels me towards my orgasm as I scream out profanities. “That’s it, good girl,” his hot breath moans into my ear laced with the smell of stale smoke. I curl my toes and grip his forearms with all my force, leaving nail marks as my whole body tenses, then releases in pleasure.

“Evan I’m cumming!” My screams and the sound of our skin slapping together fill the room. “Fuck you make me feel so good,” I whimper as he begins to slow down his thrusts, allowing me to ride out my high.

“Good job baby,” he pulls out, pumping himself. “now get on your knees. Open your mouth.” I quickly obliged. I drop down and look up at him. The sight of his heaving, glistening chest and his brown curls sticking to his red sweaty face is enough to make me orgasm all over again. He reaches his veiny arm down and pulls my hair into a ponytail and. I happily open my mouth for him as he gently taps his rock hard tip on my lips, I moan quietly as he begins to slowly thrust in my face. I take it upon myself to press his dick as far as I can down my throat, gagging as my nose touches his abdomen.

“Holy fucking shit baby,” he pants out, now fucking my face. It doesn’t take long before he’s twitching in my deep in my throat and the salty pre cum drips into my mouth. “That’s it baby, fuck,” he swears as he grips my hair so hard I can feel a few strands snapping. It takes all of my strength to pull my head a away.

“Cum on my face, please Evan,” I gasp for breath, looking up at him with tears running from my pink eyes, as thick strands of spit string from my lips to his perfect dick. With a few pumps, and his death grip still on my hair, I open my mouth and hum in satisfaction as he releases his strings of hot liquid all over my face. He groans and curses, finally releasing my hair.

“Fuck y/n,” he sighs, looking down at the beautiful mess he’s created on my face. He brings his thumb to my mouth scooping up some of his cum and bring it to my lips. I smile around his thumb, lapping up all the liquid. “I can’t believe how beautiful you are,” he looks at me with such strong admiration in his eyes, I can’t help but blush as I lay my head into the hand he puts on my cheek. “Lets get you into the shower,” he begins guides me to the bathroom but I stop him.

“Don’t you want a cigarette first” I offer, grabbing the menthols from my flannel pocket. He grins. “Well, I’m not going to ever turn down a cigarette after sex that good,” he looks at the state of my face again. “But let me at least wipe off your face first. It’s the least I could do.” I giggle as he walks over to get a wet rag. This is absolutely worth risking my job for.

[lucidloving]

Here is a familiar picture: a girl surrounded by people she knows opens her mouth and shuts it again, the way one does with a shoe-box of old things that are precious only to the one who owns them. This is a self-imposed silence that emerges from understanding that a braided string, a misshapen crystal, and a blackened eraser stabbed 23 times have no worldly purpose. But with the profound solitude of loving something that no one else loves comes the lifelong necessity of loving that something enough to make up for the solitude. This is an ultimate truth. But most days it will feel like a burden. This is the other ultimate truth.

Sometimes there is a dull pulse in my ears which speaks of the absurdity of gravity: how all things must eventually fall, like apples, like arrow-shot birds, like people who’ve climbed to the top. It is as much a scientific fact as it is a personal doomsday clock (in fact there is a good deal of overlap between the two). But when you bear the responsibility of loving something, you cannot particularly afford to fall. It’s about pride. Or maybe pride is the bandaid-word for shame. Either way, your eraser parodies of Roman dictators are still waiting for you to come home, so come home you must.

But yes, some days, you will not want to come home. For instance, the day you come to the realisation that you exist purely as a convenient concept to most people you know is possibly crushing, depending on the person who inadvertently induces this realisation. Doomsday science pulls you back down to Earth—after years of believing that you’re more than just a figment of other people’s imaginations, your feet finally touch the ground. There is soil caught uncomfortably between your toes. Most people will never know this. In fact, you understand now that most people probably forget you even have toes.

I really believe now that to him, I’ll always be 17 years old, bright in useless ways and clumsy with my mouth and heart and hands. Forgiving to a fault, laughably predictable, and always, always beneath him. And I believe now that to them, I’ll always be a female option before I am my own person. It will never matter to them what I like to read or what keeps me awake at night or what that idiotic crystal meant to me when I was ten. And I believe now that to them, I am just an accommodating, one-dimensional idea attached to a four-syllable word.

They don’t tell you how hard it is to resist throwing out the whole goddamned shoe-box. But you know you’d regret it. Sure, it’s terribly old and it’s kind of musty and useless, but it’s yours. Even if no one gives it a second glance, even if they throw it down and step on it and spit on it, it’s yours. It hurts when they don’t see you as a person. But I am not an idiot who opens her shoe-box to people who don’t want to understand a thing. Closing my mouth is an act of pride, not shame. Precious things should be kept safe for those who love them, and to hell with those that don’t. This is my favourite ultimate truth.

[rogueddie]

Friends With Benefits Steddie Fics

Important: READ THE TAGS! Also, leave a comment and kudos! These fics are amazing and I love them and I hope y'all do too 👀

let me be your (every)thing

starsdontsleep

Nancy has broken up with Jonathan and the moment Eddie hears the news, he realises his "thing" with Steve is about to be over.

Words : 2,882 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences (Mature)

AO3 : x

tangled up in barbed wire love

twelvexclara

“You’re so fucking—”

Before he can finish what he’s saying, Eddie grabs him by the shoulder, switches their position. Presses him into the door harshly and his head thumps back into the wood, sends a spike of something through his veins. He’s got a forearm at Steve’s throat, digging into his pulse point.

Daring him to say something.

He blinks dizzily up at Eddie, ignores the hinge digging into his back. They share breath, panting at each other, frozen for a moment. Steve’s heart is a hummingbird in his chest and he hopes, prays even, that Eddie can’t feel it.

Words : 39,260 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Explicit

AO3 : x

Say Something Stupid

murdertrashbabyrat

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit fuck, goddamnit.

Steve cannot fucking believe he’s realizing this right now, when he is literally inside Eddie, cannot believe he is watching this man smoke a goddamn joint as he rides him and thinking oh shit, I love him.

Words : 6,159 Chapters : 4/4 Rating : Explicit

AO3 : x

It was only a kiss

corrodedbisexual (mishabawlins)

Steve and Eddie's nighttime coping with the horrors of their past brings them close in ways Eddie never would have expected. But that's all it is. Moments of mutual comfort, a fun distraction from the endless string of nightmares.

...Or is it?

Words : 5,377 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

if my body told the truth

literaldisneyprincess

“Hey, hi Eddie, hey, it’s Steve. Uh, do you know anything about cats?” he asks.

There’s a pause. “Steve, did you get a cat?”

Words : 19,321 Chapters : 3/3 Rating : Explicit

AO3 : x

Friends and Benefits, and Maybe Something More

oddermoths

“You know Harrington,” Eddie set his arm on the armrest of the chair. “If you weren’t straight, I’d kiss you silly right now.”

“Then do it,” Steve found himself saying before he could think.

Or, Steve and Eddie enter into a friends with benefits relationship, and Steve finds himself wanting more.

Words : 6,445 Chapters : 5/5 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

How to Be a Heartbreaker

literaldisneyprincess

Steve has a plethora of methods under his belt for getting his conquests to leave soon after they’re both satisfied. He’s used them all, with varying rates of success.

He doesn’t have much experience in getting someone to stay.

Words : 8,715 Chapters : 4/4 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

Are You Flagging?

soidade

“Look, I’m just asking, okay? Not– I don't mean anything by it. But, uh.” His eyes darted back and forth, then he leaned in close to Steve. Steve had gotten used to that, kind of. The guy had no concept of personal space. “Are you flagging?” Eddie finally finished.

Steve shook his head slowly, eyes narrowed. He had no idea what that meant. He had no answer. “What?”

Eddie leaned away from Steve, facing forward again and nodding. “Okay, got it. That answers my question. Carry on.”

Words : 40,991 Chapters : 17/17 Rating : Explicit

AO3 : x

[mosneakers]

Jill: Belladonna, sweetheart, I know what that blue aura means when I see it. You holdin' up okay?

Coni swallows, her shoulders slumping as she shrugs softly. She can’t find the right answer, her eyes fixed helplessly on what's left of her world crumbling to dust before her. Coni: I should have said something a long time ago. Jill: Oh, honey, you don’t have to carry that blame. There are extraterrestrial beings everywhere doing the same thing—keeping their identities hidden to protect themselves, and for good reason. You did what you had to do.

Jill Smith lightly brushes her infant son's head to soothe him, a subtle gesture to reassure Coni of her maternal nature.

Coni: But the Darlings can be trusted, though. We didn't have to keep this from them. Jill: Well... maybe. Coni: ...Sorry? Jill: I don't know, dear. It seems to me like some of those characters may not have been who you thought they were. Coni stares blankly ahead at the grim scene unfolding in front of her, deeply contemplating the weight of Jill's words.

Tycho: Why? If you knew this entire time, why did you string me along? Another wave of shock crashes over her; every muscle in her body feels like it's screaming, and she can no longer contain her rage. Like a defensive fawn posturing as fierce to fend off a predator, she steps forward and furiously shoves him, stumbling clumsily over the high heels that had earlier tonight driven Tycho wild.

Coraleye: I'm sorry, what? I gave you chance after chance after chance to come clean—to do the right thing. But instead, you tried to steal my goddamn memories! Our memories! The private things kept just between us—were they not sacred to you? Huh? Tycho: I struggled so much, okay? The guilt ate at me every single day. But I guess it turns out I wasn't the only one lying here. I feel like such an idiot. Coraleye: [Mock-sympathetic tone] Oh! It really hurts, doesn't it, baby? Welcome to my life! Only the joke’s on me— because I lied to myself, too. I fully convinced myself you'd come around, that we’d build a life together. I was ready to give you my babies, my hand in marriage, my whole future. But no, you couldn't help yourself. You get off on fucking with my head. Well guess what? You can't control me, Tycho. You never could.

Tycho: Control you? Coraleye, I was never trying to control you. I put it off for so long because I didn't want to scare you off. I thought there could be a chance I'd lose you—lose what we had. Coraleye: Well if you thought that would scare me off, then you have no idea who I truly am. Tycho: That's never been clearer. Given your reaction now, seems I was right to believe that. Coraleye: Yeah, now! God, Tycho, your double standard is insane. Are you happy, now that Erwin's out of the way? You never did quite get that jealousy trait under control, did you?

Tycho: Am I happy? What's wrong with you? Why would you say something like that? Erwin's my best friend. You know what? You’re no better than me. If you’d just been honest from the start, instead of sneaking around, we could’ve worked together to protect him—and your brother, too! I know I was a coward and a liar, but you’re just as much to blame for all this as I am, and you know it.

Coni: I… I can't do this. They’re putting our friend to death, and I can’t just stand by and watch the world burn while it happens. I can’t stop them, but I can’t let him die alone.

Jill: I see. You'd like to leave for the cosmos? Should I tell your friends you'll be back?

Coni: [Pauses, shakes head] No. Please give them all my love.

The storm inside Coraleye comes to an abrupt halt, leaving her mind reeling in the eerie wreckage. This is what I get for breaking the rules and following my heart, she thinks to herself.

Tycho instantly recognizes the harm in his words and desperately tries to take them back, but it's too late—Coraleye severs their relationship. He doubles down, and the tension escalates until officers must intervene, dragging them apart as they curse and scream.

In the midst of the chaos, Coni Breeder quietly slips away, leaving for a distant planet to spend the remainder of her days as Belladonna Darling Goth.

[alternate-real-ities]

Hi. It would be interesting to know how you look into other universes? Do you have any kind of device or magical abilities? Can you demonstrate this on me?

Hey there, cutie 😉. Thank you for your intriguing question about how I perceive other universes and realities beyond our own. While I do not possess any magical abilities, I have developed a remarkable device that allows me to peer into the multiverse. My machine utilizes advanced quantum computing technology coupled with exotic matter as the energy source. It allows me to access specific realities with decent clarity by calibrating it carefully.

To demonstrate this capability for you, I would be happy to show you some alternate realities where you're still as stunning as you are now, only in a different way:

Here's a universe where you are instead Filipino. Here, your hair is a deep black with just the slightest hint of waviness at the top, framing your heart-shaped face perfectly. You possess a boyish face that makes anyone weak in the knees at first glance. When you smile, it's like seeing a whole world open up.

Your chest is smooth and flat, leading down to your soft belly and then tapering off into elegant legs that show little signs of hair. You are so small and delicate that it's hard to imagine that below all that innocence hides a deep lust for a big strong man to hold you up and do with you as he pleases.

-

Now, let's pay a visit to a previous dimension I like to call "Arab World". At the pinnacle of this society are the most perfectly engineered humans - those with Arab DNA that has been optimized through generations of careful selection, genetic tweaking and breeding to create individuals of unparalleled physical perfection and mental acuity. In this universe, you are an alpha of unparalleled might, your virility unmatched by any who have come before. You take great pride in your genetic superiority, knowing that no mere mortal could ever compare to your perfection.

You are blessed with a virile physique, muscular form sculpted by years of intense physical training. Your bulging chest and rock-hard abs speak to your boundless strength and vitality. In the gym at your lavish estate, you push yourself to the limits, determined to maintain peak condition.

But as much as you appreciate fine living and opulence, your true passion lies in power, conquest, and sexual domination of lesser beings. As an elite Arab alpha ruler, you take immense pride and pleasure in asserting your superiority over those beneath you, including your slaves.

-

To end this showcase gracefully, let me show you one last reality which might be my favourite. In this dimension, one of your parents is black, and as such you were born to become an handsome lightskin man.

You are an absolute fuckboy, and you wouldn't have it any other way. Your life is one endless string of parties, workouts, flirting, and fucking. You are utterly shameless about flaunting your body to anyone who will look. At the gym, you make sure every single rep is perfectly calibrated for maximum muscle growth. You strike poses, flexing and posing with a confident swagger that lets everyone know just how goddamn hot you are. The mirror loves you as much as you do.

Your nightlife consists of endless nights out on the town. You're always down to hit up the trendiest clubs in the city, the hottest bars, the flashiest parties. Your social media is filled with steamy selfies showcasing off your bodacious physique - pecs popping from tight tank tops, washboard abs glistening as you do ab crunches against a wall. Fans and admirers drool over every inch of exposed skin.

You are always on the prowl for a special someone to show off and bring home - some unsuspecting twink who can't resist getting lost in your world of pleasure and excitement. The way you touch them, caress their skin with lingering fingertips, leans into them with smoldering intensity - it's enough to make even the most experienced bottom moan like a bitch in heat.

-

These are just some examples of the diverse array of alternate realities that my machine allows me to access and observe from afar. Although, with the timeline converger project I'm currently working on, it may one day become possible for me to physically transform you as well if we both so desire.

As a side note, I'd like to thank you for your patience! I know I took a lot of time, but calibrating my machine takes quite some time if one wants to see realities that aren't as normal and boring as ours. I hope it was worth your time, because I'm sure it was worth mine 😉 See you next time!